Hyperthought

by M M Buckner

  Then I hit on the idea of his father. I never had understood the relationship between Jin and his father. I just started talking randomly, imagining what such a father must be like. And I got sort of worked up.

  “What kind of man makes three-year-olds work in factories? He’s a monster. You want to smash his face, right? Knock him down. Stomp him. But he’s your father. He gave you life. You feel a bond with him in your gut, and you know he feels it, too. So the two of you can’t leave each other alone. You dance around, fencing with each other, giving little nicks and cuts, and Jin, you’re always bleeding. Mes dieux, but that’s askew.”

  The door flew open, and a cybernurse rushed in, followed by Hamad. “There’s a spike in the alpha waves,” he whispered tensely. “Keep going. Mr. Sura is listening.”

  While the cybernurse injected a stimulant into Jin’s bloodstream, I stammered. Knowing so little, what could I say next?

  “Speak to him!” Hamad commanded.

  “Your father wants you to fail,” I began. Who knows where those words came from? “He—he’s afraid of you. He pretends to ignore you, but he really watches every move you make—because—because he’s afraid you know something he doesn’t. If you give up now, your father wins. Don’t let him stop you, Jin. Fight him!”

  I felt the bed shake. Jin’s body started jerking erratically. Whether from the force of the stimulant or from his own effort of will, he’d gone into a seizure. Another cybernurse rolled in, and Hamad pushed me out of the way. I pressed back against the wall as they held Jin down and strapped him to the bed. Hamad adjusted the cocktail of drugs entering his neck port, and the monitors beeped wildly.

  “What’s happening? What are you doing?” I shouted.

  “Get out!” Hamad’s rude tone surprised me. I stayed rooted to the spot while he and his cyberteam worked frantically around Jin’s bed.

  “Father.” That was the first faint word Jin moaned. As he said it, his muscles stopped jerking, and he lay in the damp sheets laboring for breath, his chest heaving. His eyes blinked opened, but I don’t think he could focus. His thin hospital wrapper was soggy with sweat. He turned his head on the pillow, grimacing in pain. His lips twitched as he tried to speak again. “Father,” he croaked.

  All at once, the three musketeer cybergoons appeared in the doorway. “Get her out of here,” Hamad commanded over his shoulder as he continued to work. One of the guards grabbed me by the nape of my neck and hauled me into the corridor, but not before I saw my Mend Hamad transmogrified into the fierce little Dr. Merida, laboring to save Jin’s life.

  12

  You’ve Slept Long Enough

  HOW DID SHE do that? How did Merida disguise herself as the gentle Hamad? Did she use holographic projections, hypnotism, hallucinogenic drugs? Or plain old-fashioned stage make-up? I don’t know. Once burned, twice burned, how many times would it take me to wise up? Still, Hamad had helped me coax Jin back to consciousness. I’m not sure I could have done it without him—her. Hamad had seemed so caring and sincere—was that a lie, or did Merida really have a gentler side? Mes dieux, but she kept me off-balance.

  Two days passed, and I heard no news. The light-strips in my cell glowed constantly, so I had to use my own circadian body rhythms to track time. Uncle Qués had taught me that trick, back when we were kids together in the Paris tunnels. It required an eye-popping ton of concentration, but what else did I have to do?

  The three musketeers brought food and bathing towels. They carried my chamber pot in and out. But cybergoons don’t say much, have you noticed? With no one to talk to, I fell into a funk.

  Merida had used me. I’d done what she wanted, brought Jin out of the coma. I didn’t regret that. But now what? I’d served my purpose. Maybe she would wait to see if Jin had really recovered. She might need me again if he relapsed. Otherwise, what would she want with a cheeky, out-of-work tour guide? She said I lacked the strength of character to commit murder. On the other hand, her character seemed plenty freakin’ strong. Gloomy thoughts.

  Motivating thoughts. I’m not a girl who wants to die young. That second night during dinner, I used my best sleight of hand to evade the surveillance cameras and hide a plastic chopstick up my kimono sleeve. Time was definitely not on my side, so I took up my position at once, nonchalantly crouching against the wall. When the cybernurse opened my cell door to retrieve the dinner tray, I sprang.

  One well-aimed jab of my chopstick into its infrared transceiver port, and the little machine succumbed. I dashed into the corridor. Thank the Laws, Jin’s door was not locked. He lay in a doze on the bed, restrained by the leather straps and guarded only by another little cybernurse. Alarm bells rang.

  I took out the second nurse with a quick chopstick jab and began clawing at Jin’s straps. Releasing the buckles seemed to take long agonizing minutes, but when I starting yanking at the wires connected to Jin’s body, he woke up and shrieked in pain.

  I hesitated. Those alarms were still clanging. The guards would be on top of me in seconds. I had to act. So I grasped the drip tube connected to his neck port and tore it free in one swift pull. Blood spurted from his neck, and I grabbed up a knot of bedsheet to press against the wound. Jin was moaning and weakly pushing my hand away. Crimson blood soaked through the sheet.

  “That’s arterial bleeding. He’ll die in seconds.” Merida stood in the doorway. I glanced around and saw all three cyberguards at her back. “You’ve acted stupidly, pet Move back and let me save him.”

  “Move back and let us go,” I said.

  “He’ll die, you idiot Guards, take her away.”

  As she stepped aside to let the musketeers enter, I brandished my plastic chopstick, gripped Jin’s upper body and aimed the pointed end at his eye. “What happens if I stove this straight up inside his brain?” I said. “Would that mess up your experiment?”

  Merida halted the guards with a gesture. For an instant, we hung silent. Bright red blood continued to pulse from Jin’s neck, saturating the sheets.

  “You won’t kill him,” Merida said. “Sorry, pet. We’ve discussed this before. You don’t have the courage for murder.”

  “Maybe I think he’s better off dead.”

  “You’re not a good liar, Jolie.”

  I didn’t answer. I just gripped Jin’s chest and moved the chopstick nearer to his eye. If my bluff was going to work, I had to show resolve.

  “He’s bleeding too much.” Merida was losing her composure. “Fool! Your stupidity will kill him. Let me close that wound.”

  I said, “Move into the hall, and you can send a cybernurse to fix him. But don’t try anything, or I’ll stab his brain and destroy your whole project.”

  Merida probably figured she could take control at any time, so she humored me and moved out of sight. A cybernurse rolled in and did something very simple that stopped Jin’s bleeding. I wish I’d known how to do that.

  “He needs a transfusion,” the cybernurse reported mechanically.

  I quieted the little demon with my chopstick and panted for breath. The guards waited in the corridor. Jin’s body had stopped jerking in rhythmic little spasms. He wasn’t fighting me anymore. Trying to recall the moment now, I guess my idea was to throw him over my shoulder, run like hell and find some safe hidey-hole in Merida’s rambling habitat, to catch my breath and think of a next step. I know. Lame.

  But what could I do, leave him there for Merida to play with and wait in my cell till the guards came to kill me? For all I knew, Jin’s mind might be locked in an endless nightmare of suffering. This was no time for logic. I felt a ferocious compulsion to get Jin away from Merida at any cost. And I wasn’t about to give up.

  So I grasped his thin hospital wrapper, heaved him to a sitting position and slipped my arms around his torso, intending to sling him over my shoulder in a fireman’s carry. You may ask how someone my size could do that, but I’m tougher than you’d think. I’ve carried plenty of fat Commies in out of the rain.

  However, just as I
bent close, Jin’s eyes focused on me. “Who are you?” he mumbled.

  “I’m Jolie. Your friend. Remember? Jolie Blanche Sauvage. You sent me the messages. I’ve come for you, Jin.”

  “I don’t know you,” he said more clearly.

  “Jin, I’m Jolie, the tour guide. You sent for me.”

  He studied my face carefully. “I’ve never seen you before in my life,” he said.

  I opened my mouth in stupefaction. Jin had forgotten me? He hadn’t sent for me? He didn’t even remember my face? I stood there gawking at him with my mouth hanging open like a fool. An instant later, the guards were on me like viruses. I felt a sting on my neck, caught a quick glimpse of the jet spray, and lights out.

  I awoke in another place. My cheek rested on a smooth firm pillow that smelled of citrus. I was lying on my side in a fetal curl, and someone had loosened my belt. I rolled over and opened my eyes on rosy light.

  “She’s awake.”

  “The lord must be told.”

  Voices rustled in the shadows, but I couldn’t see anyone. I stretched and kicked at the covers, and that’s when I noticed the beautiful sunset-pink kimono that enfolded me. It was embroidered with pale green dragons, and its gauzy chiffon fabric seemed to shimmer. I lay on a thick, cream-colored futon that felt softer than velvet. Above me, yellow and pink drapery billowed from decorative copper fixtures in the ceiling. Tiny russet designs flecked the drapery, like check-marks or flags. I focused my entire attention trying to decipher them.

  After a while, I sensed movement beyond the curtains, rustling breeze, a door opening. I sat up and yawned and tried to recall what I was doing here in this beautiful curtained bed. Only then did I remember Jin’s bright blood soaking the sheets, and the weapon I’d aimed at his eye. I sat up straight. I might have killed him! That recollection went slicing through my mind just as the bed curtains slid open, and I found myself face-to-face with Lord Suradon Sura.

  “Get up, Sauvage. Tempus fugit. You’ve slept long enough.”

  As soon as he spoke, I knew he was a holographic projection. His image appeared almost as solid as flesh—except for that slight tell-tale flicker around the edges.

  “Where’s Jin? Is he all right?” I asked quickly.

  “He’s recovering from your attack.”

  “Huh?” I bit my lip. My foolhardy rescue probably did seem like an attack. Or was Suradon being sarcastic? I felt very confused. “Am I still in Merida’s place?”

  Suradon grinned at me as if he found vast amusement in my questions. His features appeared more Asiatic than his son’s. Then I remembered he’d had cosmetic surgery to add that epicanthic fold. He had Jin’s liquid black eyes, but they gleamed with a merry light, and jovial wrinkles rayed out across his temples. He obviously smiled a lot. His hair and thick brushy eyebrows glittered silver. Underneath the expensive black suit, he had the same vigorous build his son used to have—before Merida’s operation.

  “Where’s Merida?” I asked.

  “Enough questions. My time is short. There’s a fuckin’ war going on.”

  From such aristocratic lips, his language shocked me. I fell silent at once. Along with his jovial expression, he carried an aura of command. Literally, an aura. That flicker bleeding out around his hologram was growing brighter by the minute.

  He deliberately assumed a stern frown, steepled his fingers together, and looked me up and down until I positively blushed. I pulled the kimono down over my knees and stuffed strands of ragged white hair behind my ears. In the shadows, I noticed cyberservants, standing at attention.

  Finally, he shook his head and grunted, “My son chose you?”

  Judgmental old bastard. Indignation overcame my nervousness. I jumped off the bed and threatened him with my fists. “D’accord! He chose a no-name tunnel rat to fight for him—because you wouldn’t! You said he could make his own choices.”

  Suradon’s lips twitched as if he wanted to smile again, but he held it back. “Jin doesn’t even recognize you, Sauvage.”

  Whoa, that hurt.

  He quirked one thick eyebrow. “Can’t imagine why not. Who could forget a mug like yours? With that big purple star splattered around your eye? I suppose the boy has so many lovers, he can’t keep track.”

  Wish you were here—Jin had said that twice, I reminded myself. Suradon’s sarcasm was throwing me off-balance. I gritted my teeth. “Whether he sent for me or not, he needs help. Any sane person can see that. A father especially ought to see that. Maybe Jin called me unconsciously—with those latent senses or whatever.”

  “Aw, don’t tell me you believe Merida’s bullshit.” His flickering image enlarged and towered over me, which just made me madder.

  “That’s right, it’s bullshit. And you’re letting Merida test it on your own son. Have you seen him lately? Don’t you feel any love for him?”

  Suradon smirked. “Maybe you wanna attack him with your chopstick again?”

  “How dare you,” I said. “How dare you make jokes while Merida carves up your son’s brain. You must know what she is.”

  Suradon’s eyes narrowed. “She’s an investment. Her ideas may be bullshit, but people buy bullshit left and right. If this experiment works, it could mean the salvation of Pacific.Com. Stable life support for millions of families, Sauvage. But you’re a free agent You wouldn’t understand what that means.”

  Suradon glanced at something outside the holo-stage, something I couldn’t see. He audibly ground his teeth, and the light bleeding around his holographic image jittered. Then he turned back to me, and the smile he’d been restraining suddenly creased his face. It looked like a bitter smile. “Sauvage, life is hilarious. You think you have troubles. I have troubles you can’t imagine.”

  Life is hilarious. That was Jin’s line. I felt my nostrils curl. “Old man, you’re worse than Merida. You want to see your son humiliated.”

  Suradon rocked on his heels. “Fuckin’ whelp, a little humility wouldn’t hurt him.”

  “How dare you,” I repeated.

  “Hey, Jin came to me with this idea. Hyperthought. A profitable new product, he said. Frankly, Pacific.Com needs cash flow. The war is sapping our reserves. We’ve got enemies worse than your rebels, Sauvage. Greenland wants to tear us apart.”

  Greenland was his enemy? I thought they were allies. I didn’t understand a word he was saying. So I just squinted and tried to look mean.

  Suradon rolled his eyes. “Jin promised me this new Hyperthought would save our asses. I’m givin’ the kid a chance. You talk about love. How much do you know?”

  Suradon stretched out his hand, and a tiny holographic image of Jin appeared in his palm. Jin’s pale, thin form twisted restlessly in a tangle of sheets. He seemed in agony. I wanted to look away, but I couldn’t.

  “Tell me, Sauvage, what you feel for my son, is that love? I call it greed. You want to cling to him and never, let go, even if you kill him. And what makes it so damned funny, you don’t even know the sonabitch. You’re hooked on a character from the Mooovies.”

  I bit my lip. Suradon’s words had the ring of truth. For an instant, I doubted myself. But not for long. “What I feel doesn’t matter. Jin is suffering, and you can make it stop!”

  “Sauvage, can’t you get it through your head? My son is doing this to please me.” Suradon tossed the image of Jin in the air like a bail and spun to catch it behind his back.

  The old man’s complacent grin filled me with rage. I shouted, “Jin minks you’re vile! He told me about a three-year-old girl in one of your factories—”

  “Not that damned three-year-old again.” Suradon held up the image of Jin and pinched it like a squeeze toy.

  “He hates everything you do!” I spluttered, spraying my chin with saliva.

  The old man huffed. “He fuckin’ dotes on me.”

  Suradon made me so angry, I started punching his holographic image as if I could rip it up with my bare fists. He sparred with me, dodging my blows in mock fear. “Ha, that was
a close one. Come on, girl. Show me your stuff.”

  “You bastard Commie! Is everything a joke to you?” Despite my best effort, I felt my face pouting up to cry. “Jin is hurting. That’s all that matters. Stop letting him suffer.”

  I swung so hard that I spun off-balance and hit the floor.

  “You’re his choice, Sauvage. Catch this!” Suradon wound up like a baseball pitcher and hurled the tiny image of Jin right at me. I put up my hand, and an explosion of light filled the room. I felt a wave of heat and saw stars, and when my vision cleared, Suradon’s hologram had vanished.

  Seconds later, a bevy of cyberservants flocked around me like Japanese butterflies. Their doming flickered with rainbows, and they wore ornaments in their hair that sparkled with dancing light. Three of them helped me to my feet and led me toward a tall, carved doorway. I kept looking back at the spot where Suradon had been standing. More arguments kept springing to mind, things I wanted to tell him about Jin, but it was too late.

  Just as we passed through the ornate doorway, the light turned dingy, and the three geishas morphed into dull, platinum cybergoons. Merida’s musketeers. I looked back and saw an empty platform surrounded by blank walls. It dawned on me that the whole beautiful bedroom had been nothing but a holo-stage. Virtual reality projected from a computer. None of it was real.

  13

  A Giga-Brilliant Plan

  IN THE LEADEN light of real space, the three musketeers shoved me down the hallway. Such friendly guys. Their identical platinum faces never betrayed the first hint of expressiveness, and the longest sentence they ever spoke was, “Turn right please.” One had a scuff mark on the back of his head, so I called him Scuff, and sometimes I tried to start conversations with him. Not that he noticed.

  For the next several minutes, the musketeers escorted me through the preter-spooky maze of Merida’s habitat. We caught a ride on a squeaking prehistoric pedestrian beltway that dumped us straight into a dripping natural cave. The cave branched in fifty directions, and I couldn’t have guessed which way to go. One of the goons pushed my head down and led me through a low fissure into a rusting steel conduit. We crab-walked through the conduit to an adobe tunnel decorated with finger-daub paintings. Shadows darted up the walls as kerosene torches gave way to clunky sodium lamps strung on cables. This was the most schizoid habitat I’d ever seen. I took note of portals and cross corridors, but it was impossible to memorize such an irrational layout.