Crystal Rebellion (18 page)

“I’m not sure where he is going with this,” Criss told her.

“I don’t understand,” she said aloud.

“People do not appreciate being treated like they are
stupid.”

As he continued, her mind raced trying to decipher his
message.

“In one of the most fraudulent acts in human history, the
Union orchestrates fake elections, installs three misfits who as near as I can
tell still live on Earth, and you think none of the six thousand smart,
independent settlers here in the colony would notice?” He had a full head of
steam and spittle flew with his next words. “And now you tell me they’re
freelancing and you wonder if perhaps I’ve noticed something worth mentioning?
Yeah. I noticed that you stole our society. And for now, those of us at lunch
today accept it and hide the fraud because you make it very profitable for us
to do so.”

He shook his head and Cheryl saw it as someone disgusted
with himself. “We help control the message for you, but the President should
know that resentment is building and the charade can’t continue. We can look
after our own affairs here.” Then he flashed a quick grin. “A new dome would
ease our troubled conscience.”

“The President sent me here because he is concerned,” said
Cheryl. “I can tell you with certainty that the Triada’s days are over. And I can’t
speak for him, but I would be very surprised if he didn’t support open,
democratic elections just as soon as they can be arranged.”

“Good,” said Criss. “The President thought he was supporting
open democratic elections when the Triada won.”

“What are they doing that has the President concerned?” Chen
sat upright on the seat. “Was that trouble in the Quarter yesterday related to
them?” He lifted his hand and touched his neck below his ear, then ran it
though his hair. “You need to connect me back. I can’t be doing this alone.”

“We’ll connect you in a moment. But you will have to keep
this information in confidence. At least for now. The Union will know if you
talk about this to anyone.”

“Sid is wrapping up,” Criss told her.

Standing, Cheryl clasped Chen’s hand and gave it a firm squeeze.
“You’ve helped me today. Thank you. If I need anything, can we count on you?”
She tightened her grip.

He surprised Cheryl with his response. “Were the promises
good? The planning grant. Meeting with the President. New elections?”

Good for you, Chen.
She nodded. “Yes. You have my
word.”

He smiled and matched the pressure of her grip. “Of course
you may count on me.”

Criss reconnected Chen to his linked world and as the man
focused on updating his group, Cheryl gave him a good-bye wave and started out
of the park. Following Criss’s arrows, she made her way down a side street and
then over to Civic Avenue. Sid stepped out of the Kensington Pub as she
approached.

“How’d it go?” they asked at the same time. “Good.” They
responded together.

Since Sid was playing the role of Cheryl’s aide, they maintained
a professional demeanor while in public. She missed the touches he would steal—his
way of adding a physical dimension to their communication.

Floating arrows appeared, leading them down the street. Sid
started walking and Cheryl took quick steps to catch up. Now visible to the
public, Sid did not shy away from the jostling that sometimes occurred on the
crowded walkways of the Central District.

“I’m pretty sure Bobbi is going to help us,” he said.

“That’s great,” replied Cheryl. “Listen to what I discovered.
We know we’re here because the Union thinks that Mars is up to something. Well,
Mars thinks that the Triada is a puppet government installed by the Union and that
they’re controlling the colony from afar. They think it’s us and we think it’s
them. In the confusion, the Triada run the place like it’s their own.”

“Criss,” said Sid, his tone signaling impatience. “What do
you know of this?”

“The Triada have been quite successful in advancing the
development of the colony, and life has been better for everyone since they
took office. The malcontents are few and the Triada finds ways to buy their cooperation,
including Chen and the others at lunch today. And those not for sale are intimidated
into silence. I underestimated the number of people who believe that the Union
installed the Triada. However, the number of people upset about it is smaller
than Chen implies.”

“The confusion explains how the Triada got where they are,”
said Cheryl.

The arrow floating ahead of them swelled in size and shifted
its angle. Instead of pointing down the street, it now pointed to the doorway
of a building just ahead. Urgency was clear in Criss’s voice. “Enter this building,
descend one flight, and proceed to the door at the end of the hall.”

While Sid paused at the doorway to make a visual sweep of
the street, Cheryl entered the small lobby and followed a floating arrow to the
stairs. Sid caught up with her and together they strode down a bright hallway
with a set of doors at the end. Emblazoned across them was the business name
and company catch phrase:
Idle Time -
Crafting Your Unique Entertainment Experience
.

The doors opened as they approached.

“This way,” Criss called, waving from a small conference room
off the lobby. He sat in his overstuffed chair. Across from him sat projected
images of Alex and Juice holding hands and sitting shoulder-to-shoulder on a
loveseat.

Cheryl knitted her brow, her patience at its end. “Are you
really going to make us ask?”

“We have a hostage situation,” said Criss.

Sid rolled his shoulders the way he did when prepping for
physical activity. “Perp and prey?”

“Ruga,” said Criss. “And us.”

Criss told Juice about the satellite
buoy and its horrific potential. Her face went pale and she began to breathe in
fast, shallow gasps.

She stood next to Alex in the fab facility while Ruga, speaking
through Larry, laid out a harsh reality, including a two-day deadline to perfect
the details of a crystal-to-crystal transfer of a sentient being.

When the synbod left the lab, Criss called a leadership
meeting, saying to Juice, “We can have privacy in Alex’s office.”

Criss had stumbled across two more traps—both dead man’s
switches—during his work on the entwined system with Bobbi Lava. One had been hidden
within the tangle of functions for dome repair, the other had been inserted just
below the dome fortification supervisor. Both required daily resets by Ruga,
and both were horribly destructive if that did not happen.

Freeing up yet more capacity to expand his search for traps,
Criss fretted that despite his efforts, it was happenstance—luck—that dominated
his success.
It is difficult to defend against madness.

While he guided Sid and Cheryl to a private space so they
could participate in the meeting, Criss watched Juice and Alex as they plopped
onto the loveseat in Alex’s private office.

Juice’s instructions to Criss, delivered in a side whisper in
the hallway, had been clear. “I can’t tell Alex who you are until I check with
Sid and Cheryl. But make sure I’m truthful with him.”

“You’ll do fine,” he’d told her.
This will never work
,
he thought.

Juice turned to Alex on the loveseat and started: “I’m about
to speak with a few of my shipmates. You met two of them, Sid and Cheryl. The
third one, Criss, uses a simulated image because his leadership doesn’t want to
expose his identity.” She met his gaze. “I hope that’s okay.”

“Of course,” said Alex. “After seeing your cloak and stuff,
a secret identity is nothing.” After a moment of silence, he asked, “Who is the
pet Ruga talked about?”

“I don’t have a pet and I don’t use that as a nickname for
anyone. I think that’s just Ruga being creepy. I believe he was referring to
Criss, though, which makes sense because the guy is an incredible know-it-all
with a huge ego. Just wait until you see the handsome-man image Criss uses in
his projection.”

Juice looked away from Alex and, with an impish grin, stuck
her tongue out. Criss knew she was teasing him, and her attention caused a
delicious ripple across his outer tendrils.

Putting a hand on Alex’s leg, Juice spoke in a solemn tone.
“I won’t lie to you, but there are things I can’t say. So when you ask
something in that category, I’ll just say that I can’t tell you.” She picked a
speck of lint off his clothing. “And if I say I can’t tell you, please don’t
ask again. I’ll know you want to know, and I’ll want to tell you, but I can’t.”
She slumped her body against his. “I know I’m asking a lot.”

Sid and Cheryl arrived at the Idle Time business office and
Criss sent projected images of Alex and Juice into that conference room, while
at the same time projecting Sid and Cheryl into Alex’s office. In both places,
he projected himself sitting in his overstuffed chair.

Criss waited while Sid moved chairs into position, and felt
a twinge of sadness when Sid touched each chair in a deliberate act before
leaning down to pick it up.

He still doesn’t trust me.

Years earlier, Criss had been experimenting with ambiance
and décor, and at one meeting he’d included projected images of wall hangings,
potted plants, and a table-and-lamp set. He’d also included a projected image
of an unpadded wooden chair positioned between two real upholstered chairs,
believing it added balance to the setting.

Sid had entered that meeting and, instead of picking one of
the comfortable upholstered seats, chose the wooden chair. And since it was a
projected image—a trick of light—Sid had fallen to the floor with a solid thump.

Criss had called a warning to Sid but he’d been too late. He’d
apologized afterward, several times, but Sid continued to believe it had been a
deliberate act—Criss playing a prank that went wrong. And while Sid now
recalled the episode with laughter, usually after several beers, he continued
to test each chair before sitting.

“Alex, you remember Sid and Cheryl,” said Juice, making the
introductions. “And this is Criss.”

As Criss exchanged pleasantries with Alex, he considered
that very few outsiders had ever participated in a leadership meeting. Granted,
Alex was a very special friend with vital information, and like Juice, he also
held a doctorate in engineered intelligence.
He will figure it out.

Cheryl led the questioning. “This transfer from one crystal
to another, do we know how to do that?”

“With Criss’s help,” said Juice, “there’s an excellent
chance we can make it work. But it’s a difficult operation, especially given
that we must be perfect the first time we try. Many variables affect success,
and that means there are many ways things could go wrong. Alex built the fab
facility and knows how to run all the equipment, so that will help.”

After some back and forth, Sid got to the heart of it. “So,
if we disrupt the transfer, his hidden traps could kill thousands. But if we move
him, he becomes stronger and his blackmail continues.”

“To locate all the traps,” said Criss. “I need access to the
Triada secure area. If I break in now, it means I’m the one who escalated the aggression.
How Ruga would react is difficult to forecast, but we know he plays for the
highest stakes.”

“Lazura would know where the traps are.”

All talking stopped and everyone looked at Alex, who pushed
his hair behind his ear and continued, “For Ruga to do anything like you
describe, he’d need to use some pretty sophisticated tools. Lazura leads the
Tech Assembly—we’re the Blues, by the way—and we’re the ones who develop the
tools. I’m pretty sure she knows everything about his every action.”

“Does he know she’s tracking him?” asked Sid.

Alex shrugged. “I have no way to know that.”

Sid pressed. “Would she turn on Ruga?”

“They have an interesting relationship. Twice I was working
with Lazura when Ruga interrupted. She cut me out when that happened, but both
times the few words I heard sounded like the beginnings of a quarrel. It’s hard
to imagine she would turn on him, though.”

The meeting resolved soon after with direction from Sid. “We
have twelve hours. Everyone should use a good chunk of that for sleep.”

Criss looked at Sid and Cheryl. “Your contacts might have
insights into the relationship between Ruga and Lazura, and Verda as well. It
would be helpful if you connected with them and probed for information.”

Criss turned to Juice and Alex. “After you rest, we should meet
in the fab facility and finalize a transfer protocol. Until we find a way to
stop it, we have to move forward like it’s really going to happen.”

Sid and Cheryl waved good-bye, and their projected image faded
from Alex’s office.

“It was a pleasure to meet you, Alex,” said Criss, and then
he and his chair faded, leaving the two alone.

* * *

Juice slumped back in the loveseat
and sorted through a list of tasks in her head. The next few days promised to
be intense.

“He’s amazing, J.” Alex looked where Criss had been. “That’s
your work?”

“What?”

“Don’t hurt my feelings. Let’s step through this labyrinth
of logic. You are President of Crystal Sciences, which fabricates the most
advanced intelligences in the solar system. And Criss is clearly AI.” He tapped
a finger to his lips in a pretend show of deep thinking.

Then he shifted his knees toward her. “We reviewed that AI
diagnostic together for Beckman our first summer in his lab. Remember? Criss
never interjects, interrupts, speaks over, or does anything that diagnostic had
as indicators. He leads by following, supporting ideas that fit his agenda. He’s
deferential. He’s too smart, too handsome, too…perfect.” He patted her leg.
“Like me, which is why you’re crazy about me.”

Juice folded her arms across her chest and Alex continued, “And
I’m thinking this makes you part of the leadership that didn’t give you
permission to share with me. Anyway, even without your ‘I have a secret’
routine, which is like saying ‘don’t look where I’m pointing,’ by the way, I’d
have figured it out.”

Juice glowered at him, her annoyance unmistakable in her icy
tone. “I can’t talk about it.”

“I hear you. But since I know, can you at least tell me if
he’s a four-gen? He has to be, right?”

Rising to her feet, she said, “We have a long day tomorrow
and I’m exhausted. I think I’ll head back to my room. Meet for breakfast?”

“Please stay.” Alex patted the loveseat cushion next to him.
“I didn’t mean to upset you. I apologize.”

“I’m honestly tired.”

Alex stood and leaned forward to kiss her. She turned her
cheek to him and made a pecking noise, and then started for the exit.

“You’re overreacting,” he called.

“I just remembered I have a crazy morning tomorrow. Let’s meet
after breakfast.” The door closed behind her.

Muttering, Juice followed Criss’s arrows into the Central
District and to an apartment he’d arranged for her so she could be alone. Staying
in the colony saved travel, giving her more time for sleep. She didn’t notice
the beautiful décor in her bedroom, nor did she consider how Criss had arranged
for her clothes and toiletries to be there.

Sitting on the bed, she called for him, told him to go away,
then, after staring into the dark for most of an hour, called to him again.

“It’s my fault he knows. I guess it’s no surprise he figured
it out. He’s smart as hell.”

Criss sat on the edge of her bed and remained silent.

“I remember now from our time at BIT that he can be a little
arrogant. It’s not a positive trait. But here is the real heart of it. The
first thing I asked of him, the only thing I asked, was to not pry. He ignored me
and did it anyway.” She sat up and leaned against the headboard. “If there ever
was a warning sign, that would be it.”

“Perhaps Cheryl would have insights.”

“I’m not going to bother her this late. I don’t want to be that
whiny friend.” She smoothed the bedsheet with her hand. “Are they angry with
me?”

She’d committed a huge blunder by revealing Criss’s existence
outside of leadership, and much of her angst grew from that mistake. To ensure the
knowledge of his existence spread no further, Criss would now need to monitor
Alex around the clock, perhaps for decades.

“I can say that neither Sid nor Cheryl were surprised at
seeing him. And operationally, it has no impact on what comes next.”

She knew Criss wouldn’t violate Sid’s or Cheryl’s personal
confidence, but she’d asked the question because she felt she could glean
information from his careful response. Here, she took his words to say, “Sid
and Cheryl are not upset with you.”

With her burden lightened, she transitioned into work mode,
burying herself in the technical challenges ahead. There in the bedroom, Criss
projected a scaled-down but lifelike image of the fab facility ICEU, and with
his help, she worked through the steps of transferring an AI cognition matrix
into a four-gen crystal.

“Here’s how you monitor deployment,” said Criss, showing her
different displays. “This adjusts lattice orientation. And this shows the
unfolding sequence in ladder form.”

Juice toyed with the different features but didn’t practice.
The only way this would work was if Criss ran every step of the transfer. For
her to play a meaningful role, she’d need a month to gain facility with the methods
and equipment.

“Shouldn’t we tell everyone to get to shelter?” she asked
after finishing a sequence. “Each apartment is its own life support
containment, and then there’re the buildings themselves. As long as everyone is
inside, they’ll be okay.”

“I am not sure how Ruga would react if we sounded the alarm and
sent everyone for cover.”

“We can’t let them die.”

“We will wait until the transfer has started and Ruga is unconscious.
Until then, as long as we play by his rules, he won’t do anything that puts his
transfer at risk.”

“What does Sid say?”

“Both he and Cheryl support waiting.”

She snuggled under the covers and curled into a ball. “Do
you think there’s hope for us?”

“It is difficult to change people. Can you accept who he
is?”

She smiled because he knew which “us” she’d meant. “A bighead
who pushes when he shouldn’t?”

“Is that how you see him?”

“No. I really like him.”

She lay still but the thoughts swirling in her head prevented
her from falling asleep. She checked the time, and the late hour and shrinking
window for rest heightened her anxiety. “Can you help?”

“Are you ready?”

When she’d become leadership, he’d weaned her from commercial
pharmaceuticals and, for sleep assistance, moved her to a form of hypnosis. She
trusted him and desired his help, and this made her a perfect candidate for
simple post-hypnotic suggestion.

“Yes.” She nodded into the pillow.

He said her trigger phrase: “Sleep well, young lady.”

Her body relaxed and her respiration dropped as she transitioned
to sleep. Before long, she entered a dream state.

Surfacing hours later, she extended her arms, arched her
back, and pointed her toes in a long, feline stretch.

“Did you let me oversleep?” she asked, checking the time.

“No. Alex will be at the lab in about ninety minutes. You have
time for coffee before you eat.”

She grabbed a mug of medium roast from the food service unit
and slumped into a chair in the living area.

Appearing in a matching chair across from her, Criss took a
sip of coffee and then ran his finger around the rim of his cup. “Sid and
Cheryl give you permission to talk to Alex about me.”