Kaleidocide Page 9

  Just seconds after the payment was confirmed and Terrey was officially hired, he reached out and touched Lynn’s damp hair and asked her if she had taken a shower. She pulled away and said yes, and my old friend turned toward me and singed my ears with a string of military-style profanity. The gist of his rant, interspersed between vulgar references to human anatomy and maternal intimacy, was that I had better pay attention and do what he says, or I would regret it deeply.

  “I didn’t even think about it when she said she was taking a shower,” I said. “Sorry, Lynn.”

  “You are sorry, you…” And Terrey let out another string, and then sent some Lynn’s way because she should have known better.

  “Can we still get our million dollars back?” Lynn said to me.

  “No, he’s right, honey,” I said. “We’ll listen, Terrey. But if you don’t mind, BASS has kind of an unwritten rule about bad language.”

  “What’s up with that?”

  “In honor of Saul,” I said with an embarrassed shrug. “Who probably did it in honor of his wife.”

  “I thought you were in charge here.”

  “I am,” I said. “And it makes sense to me.” Not an entirely truthful answer, but one I thought both Lynn and Min would appreciate. In Mrs. Rabin’s orphanage, where Lynn had been raised, such moral traditions were an important part of the curriculum, and Min valued respect and respectfulness as high as anything.

  “Professionalism, intelligence, and distinctiveness,” a raspy voice suddenly rang out, and a holo of Saul Rabin’s ghost was standing in the room among us, leaning on his cane. Min had obviously accessed the construct through the net room, probably because he knew it would do a better job explaining this than I could. Min’s reverence for the old man was creating an awkward moment—not the first time it had happened—but out of deference to him I let the ghost talk.

  “First, at least some people consider it unprofessional to use profanity on the job, and any benefit it might possibly provide is not worth the risk of potential marks on our reputation. Second, profanity is often a sign of a limited vocabulary, a lack of creativity, and a lapse in mental discipline, and if someone cannot find a way to communicate effectively without it, he or she is not capable of functioning at the level our work demands. Third, this policy sets us apart from other organizations and shows how serious we are in our pursuit of excellence. Professionalism, intelligence, and distinctiveness.”

  “Sounds like something from a Middle School speech class,” Terrey said to me, and I shrugged again. “State your main points at the beginning and the end…”

  “I can hear what you’re saying, Mr. Thorn,” the ghost said in a gruff voice. “I am a fully interactive construct, and I heard what you said before, also, because all oral and textual data that Min receives is passed on to me.”

  Silently, Terrey mouthed to me the words Can he see me, too? I shook my head no, and he promptly gave Saul the backward peace sign that was known in England as “the two-fingered salute” and in Australia as “the forks.”

  “Fine,” Terrey said as he made the gesture, which is similar to “the finger” in America. “Look, I’ll cut the shite if you’ll tell these two to do what I say.” He now gestured toward Lynn and me, already forgetting that the ghost couldn’t see him. “So I can save the buggers’ lives.”

  “I will encourage them to do that,” the ghost answered, then added, “Within reason.” It was apparently smart enough to decipher to whom Terrey was referring. But the construct’s intelligence had some limits, as my friend now pointed out to me.

  “He didn’t seem to register the limey substitutes,” he said. “Could it be that he’s only programmed to recognize American slang? So I can speak down under and call you freckles and clackers, doodles, frangers. I can talk about your Mappa Tassie…”

  “You are correct,” Min spoke up. “Mr. Rabin’s Legacy Project only preserved what he knew at the time of his death, and he never learned to speak ‘down under.’” Was that a slight edge of wit from the straight-faced giant? “But Mr. Ares and I are able to load information from the net into the construct, like a dictionary of Australian slang, so that he will know what you are saying.”

  “That won’t be necessary, Min,” I said. I guessed that my friend’s belligerence about this minor issue was only to make sure his point was made, and to show that he wouldn’t be intimidated by anyone—even the legendary Saul Rabin, and especially this virtual version. “Let Terrey have his fun. We need to get to work now.”

  “The download is already completed,” Min replied.

  “Oh,” I said.

  Terrey asked, “Who’s in charge here again?” I didn’t answer, but told Min to shut down the ghost, and reiterated that we needed to get to work.

  13

  BODIES

  “Okay,” Terrey started, and looked at Lynn. “The first step, as I said, is to get this very tidy spunk out of harm’s way.”

  “All right, that’s it,” Lynn said, highly offended. “What’s with you?”

  “Sorry, marm,” Terrey said before I could defend him. “I’m still in the slang mode, I guess.”

  “It was actually a compliment,” I told Lynn. I had heard Terrey use those words many times for the women he chased during our military days.

  “Oh,” she said, and silently mouthed the words herself. “Really?”

  “Yes, really. How do we make her safe, Terrey?”

  He explained that as soon as the triplets arrived, they needed to take Lynn to a location that could be secured sufficiently. Various options were discussed, but Terrey said that it would be much easier to add the scanning equipment and make changes to a property that we already owned. So when Lynn realized that our home in Napa Valley was on the list, the matter was settled quickly. Lynn said she would rather be stuck at home than anywhere else, and “frankly I’d rather die there, too.” Terrey asked me about the security there, and I told him it was beyond his wildest dreams because the house was protected by the same measures installed for my new operations center, which was built into the mountain below. He seemed pleasantly and genuinely surprised by this—apparently the homework he had done on BASS had not yielded all of this information, and it gratified me to know that we still had some secrets. Hopefully Terrey would keep them, as his contract required.

  Lynn gathered her things, and when the triplets were outside, I kissed her good-bye and said I would fill her in on the rest. The cyborg girls had figured out how to fly an aero while riding here in one of them, which I’m sure was beyond easy for them because the flying cars were very user-friendly. We gave them the security clearance they needed to use them, and San took Lynn home in our personal aero. Ni and Go stayed to secure our perimeter and scan the area while we made some more plans.

  “Now we need to phase out the rest of your on-site staff as quickly as possible, both here and at the house.” Terrey said this in a much more serious and businesslike manner, which confirmed what I thought about the purpose of his earlier behavior. “But we’ll need a few more capable bodies, and some expendable ones, too, if we can. They need to be people who have had little or no connection with you, because anyone known to be around you could be contacted and turned by Sun’s agents. Same reason I don’t bring any staff except the Trois, who are inviolable. Can you think of anyone who is qualified but you don’t know well enough for anyone to predict they’d be here? Maybe a former peacer working somewhere else, someone that you know good things about?”

  “We don’t have much of a turnover here,” I said. But I thought for a few moments, and Min processed.

  “What about Keren Reyes?” I asked the big man. She was a good peacer who had requested a leave of absence to take care of a relative of some kind who had refused to move to the Bay Area from her native El Salvador.

  “A possibility,” Min said. “But it would be unfortunate for her to have to leave her mother at this difficult time.” It was her mother, right, I thought. That would be pretty co
ldhearted.

  “She’s on my list,” Terrey said. I noticed that his mouse sheath was back on and he was checking some information in his contacts. “We don’t have much time, so I had the triplets do some research.” A screen appeared in the room again, this time filled with various mugshots. “Here’s an option where we could possibly get two good men in one try.” One of the pictures was maximized, and I recognized the face immediately.

  “That’s the guy from the ‘silhouette’ incident,” I said to Min, using the term that had become shorthand for the worst few days of my life. “What’s his name?”

  “Valeri Korcz,” Terrey said.

  “Didn’t you shoot him?” Min said.

  “Only a little,” I said, raising my eyebrows.

  “He may not be very eager to protect you.”

  “He will when he hears about the pay,” Terrey said. “And he has a partner with a good résumé as well.” Another picture appeared next to Korcz’s, of a man with a lot less size but a lot more hair.

  “I remember being impressed with Korcz’s skill,” I said, then shrugged. “Until he got shot, of course. But I also remember that he doesn’t seem the type to be easily corrupted, or even a good liar. How did Saul like to describe some people? ‘Without guile,’ I think.”

  “He always said that about Lynn,” Min said. “That’s why he liked her. And he thought you had some of that in you, too, and she would bring it out.”

  “Can I make an offer to these two?” Terrey asked, interrupting the personal reverie and pointing toward the pictures of Korcz and his partner. After I said yes, he added, “Do you have anyone in New York that could help with the contact?”

  “Yes, we have ambassadors in all the major cities. They liaison with the movers and shakers and show off some of our tech. You know, stimulate salivation in case we decide to release it for sale, or to make friends.”

  “Have Min send that contact info to the triplets,” Terrey said, and I nodded my permission to the giant. “Now, the next thing we have to do is make you disappear, if we can. You need to think of a place you can go where no one will know where you are.”

  “Run away? That’s not gonna happen.” I stuck out my chin. “You of all people should know that.”

  “What I know is that if you stay visible, the chances of you dying are about ninety-eight percent. There’s probably a bomb and sniper being put into place right now, plus some form of poison and lethal gas, an accident being arranged, other kinds of sabotage, the betrayal of someone close to you, and who knows what else. One of those methods are bound to work, and then you don’t get to see your baby. And I don’t get enough money to even pay my expenses.”

  I didn’t care about the last part, of course, but I did about the one before it.

  “Tell you what,” he went on. “Let’s see if it’s even possible before we argue more about it. Indulge me for a moment … there are two things you would need to make this work really well: a place and a person. Can you think of a place where you could go and stay for a while, that no one would know about? You can’t have been there recently, you can’t own it, and ideally it’s secluded and you don’t have to pay anyone for it, so there’s no data trail. Second, can you think of a person you could trust who is unrecognizable and not traceable in connection with you, and who would be willing to bring you things you need, or even stay with you? Because you wouldn’t be able to leave the place.

  “That’s the ideal scenario, and the next best option is a major step up in risk, but still doable. You pick a random hotel and a random person, and pay them cash to get a room in their name. You stay in the room and keep paying them to keep confidence and bring you food and such, so as far as the outside world is concerned, they’re staying in that room by themselves. The problem with this approach is that there are too many variables—too many people around, what to do about the maids who will start to wonder why the ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign is on the door every day. Your helper may have a job or a family or both to juggle. They may recognize you and be tempted to say something, despite the large amounts of cash you throw at them. They might realize they could get even more money from the media or the other side…”

  I wasn’t even listening to Terrey’s last few sentences, because the strangest thing happened to me while he described the ideal scenario. Against all odds, I actually thought of both a place and a person that fit his description. I couldn’t believe it, and immediately (and quite involuntarily) thoughts about the supernatural started bouncing around my brain again, no doubt because of the conversation with Min and the nature of the “ideal” person who came to mind. This must be what the fanatics mean when they talk about God “showing up,” I thought. It seemed too uncanny and coincidental to be explained by natural causes. But that doesn’t mean it can’t be, I reminded myself, and came back to earth.

  “You’re not gonna believe this, Terrey,” I said, “but I know a place and a person that I think will work even better than you’re hoping. Lynn wouldn’t like either one of them, but—”

  “She doesn’t need to know,” he interrupted. “And none of us should know anything about it, so keep the details to yourself. But you really think it’ll work?”

  “Yeah, it’s bizarre. It’s like the situations are ready made for what you’re talking about, and the fact that they came to mind as you were talking is amazing, too. I had completely forgotten about the person until now. It’s like the thoughts were … downloaded into my head on schedule.”

  “Positively Dickensian,” Terrey said, after grunting a couple times. “So you’ll do it?”

  “Well, wait a minute.” I was still amazed at what was happening, but I wasn’t ready to base my decisions on an experience. In the words of a classic British song, just ’cause you feel it doesn’t mean it’s there. “I don’t like the idea of being away from Lynn for who knows how long.”

  “If you get killed, you’ll be away from her a lot longer. And your baby—don’t forget her.”

  “People will figure out quickly that I’m gone. There’ll be a media circus, and Sun has considerable resources at his disposal. His forces could probably find me.”

  “Only if they’re looking,” Terrey said. “This is the best part. We’ll get someone to sleep with your wife.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Well, maybe not sleep with her, but at least live with her, and go to a few places you would go.” He sat back and crossed his arms, obviously proud of himself. “A double, to take your place.”

  “Is that possible?” I asked. I had heard of the idea, and even of it being done, but I wasn’t up on it.

  “Not for most people. But we can do it.”

  “How?”

  “Find someone who’s desperate enough to make a new start.” He was leaning forward now. “And willing to be physically altered and risk his life for the big bikkies.”

  “Where, a prison?”

  “Maybe, but not the best sort to choose from there, plus you have to circumvent the justice system somehow, which is not easily done.” He paused for effect. “There’s a better way.”

  “Okay,” I said, impatient with the pauses.

  “Hospital psych wards and online suicide sites.”

  “A mentally ill person would be better than a criminal, for living with my wife?”

  “Not everyone who wants to end it all is mentally ill,” he said. “Sometimes they’ve suffered a lot and just have no reason for living.”

  “So you give him one,” I said, nodding. “Have you done this before?”

  “Yeah, mate. And it worked, to answer your next question.”

  “Wow,” I said, shaking my head. “This is … weird.”

  “This is life and death,” Terrey added. “And time is of the essence. You’re gonna have to trust me on a lot because we have to move fast.”

  “I should talk to Lynn,” I said.

  “No, I wouldn’t do that. Don’t want too much emotion in the mix. Plus it would be fun to see if
she can tell that he’s not you.”

  “Hmmph,” I snorted. “To use your words, good luck with that.” I thought a little more about whether I should talk to Lynn, and decided against it because I didn’t think her opinions on this matter could possibly be more educated than Terrey’s.

  “I’ll go for it,” I said. “But I want to approve the double before you hire him, if he’s going to be living in my house.”

  “Fine. The triplets already have a search running throughout North America, screening about a half million candidates who have responded. I’m sure we’ll find at least one that works.”

  “That many people responded?” I asked, incredulously.

  “That many are interested in the million dollars we’re offering,” he answered, “and we’re certified by Reality G. Of course, most of them are eliminated right away, because we’re looking for a very specific set of qualifications.”

  “And there’s a fine line between desperate and too desperate, I’m sure.”

  “Right.”

  “Can we please make sure we stay on the safer side of that line?” I pleaded. “He’ll be living in my house, remember?”

  “No worries, mate,” Terrey said with a smile.

  14

  EXIT INTERVIEW

  “So you really think you’re ready to … do it?” the amateur journalist with the baby bump asked the five-year-old boy dressed in bright red and yellow, who picked his nose and wiped it on his shirt. They had moved to one of the many private rooms in the Exit website, where every day thousands of customers around the world recorded their last words (or thoughts, if they had implants), in the latest version of the timeless convention known as the suicide note.

  “Yes, that’s what I’m here for,” the boy answered, “and that’s exactly what I’m going to do.” Adult terms like “exactly” sounded incongruous in the lisping voice of a small child, but the thirty-five-year-old man speaking the words had chosen this net skin for a reason. He had created it by importing video of himself from thirty years before because it reminded him of a time of innocence, long before his life had been ruined in so many ways. He wasn’t a religious man, but as death approached most people had at least some thoughts of the afterlife, and he preferred to enter it this way, even though it was only a virtual construct. In a way, it actually mattered more what he looked like inside the site, because the woman was there to see him, whereas in the real world he was totally alone.