Authors: Taiyo Fujii
Tags: #Fiction, #Science Fiction, #General, #Cyberpunk, #Genetic Engineering
“Jackpot,” murmured Thep. One of the grasshoppers had found the answer among the astronomical number of possibilities. Now it was signaling the rest of the swarm. I hadn’t expected the illumination to be so intense.
The grasshopper left a trail of lights in its wake, each new little star rising and flying in a different direction, spawning more lights. The glowing wakes spread like capillaries across the site.
Soon the 3D image looked like the center of a galaxy. The TerraVu image feed spread across the floor started picking up the new lights.
Yagodo exhaled in amazement. Kurokawa’s eyes devoured the image. The whole site was bathed in a brighter glow. The different hues of SR06 and the intruder were no longer visible. All we could see was a field of pulsing light.
“It’s starting,” I whispered. The light at the north edge of the site faded quickly, leaving a bright slash of red across the dull green backdrop. When the glow had ebbed from half the site, I heard Nguyen gasp.
Two gigantic lines of red text emerged, topped by an even bigger bar code.
OPERATION MOTHER MARY
COURTESY OF GUARDIANS OF THE LAND
The edges of the letters flickered like fire.
“There you are, Gough. Your declaration of responsibility. I used your grasshoppers to spell it out.”
“You did this? How did you figure out the software?”
“John McCauley was nice enough to leave me DARPA’s development kit. That and a video message.”
“McCauley? That little twit!”
“You’re the twit. You let a kid fresh out of school play with a bioweapon. You must’ve been smoking something.” I turned to Sascha, who was leaning against the wall with her arms folded. “Why don’t you interview Gough and Nguyen? The ecoterrorists who caused the mutation at Mother Mekong. You’ve got the culprits right here. That’s quite a scoop.”
She glowered at me. “I don’t need your advice. You don’t know anything about reporting. You’ve no idea how much we spent to get this story.”
“Here’s a chance to recoup some of your investment.”
“Don’t bother, Mamoru. World Reporting is finished,” said Thep quietly.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” snapped Sascha. Thep stood up and pointed to the table.
“The message has two parts. The second part is coming.”
Everyone’s eyes returned to the image. Below the first message, another line of flaming red text started to materialize, beginning as a blur but coming quickly into focus.
SPONSORED BY SASCHA LIEFENS AND WORLD REPORTING, INC.
Yagodo clapped gleefully. Sascha’s eyes flashed with rage.
“When did you do this?” I asked Thep.
“Just before you called me. Coding another line of text was easy. With plain text all you have to do is input it”—she typed on an invisible keyboard—“compile it, and you’ve got yourself a mission code. Kurokawa-san told me all about World Reporting.”
“Wait, when did he do that?”
“Mamoru, I can deploy two avatars, you know. One was briefing her while the other one invited her here.” He raised an index finger and swept it left and right across his forehead.
“Let’s not forget the memorial photo.” Yagodo pointed to the feed on the table, made the copy/paste gesture, and placed a screen shot on the wall next to Sascha. “Guardians of the Land didn’t actually write this declaration, but the impact is the same. This is it for the Guardians and World Reporting too.”
“Jean, we’re out of here!” Sascha yelled. She sounded hurt. Jean already had his monopod folded and was running for the door.
“You might have a problem with that,” said Yagodo.
“Sascha, we’re trapped!” The cameraman tugged frantically at the handle. “It’s no use! There’s no latch.”
Nguyen had stayed slumped in her chair, staring at the floor. Now she looked up. “It opens if you’re registered.”
“Huang! Take care of them all. Do her first.” Sascha pointed to Nguyen.
Kurokawa and Yagodo both yelled “Down!” I hit the floor. Behind me the masked man growled, “Goddamn it, which one is which?” I saw a double image of Kurokawa, one small figure running toward Nguyen and another tugging at the legs of her chair. The first Kurokawa leaped on her and knocked her backward.
The air behind me exploded with gunfire and the shock wave from the muzzle. I shut my eyes tight.
“Huang, don’t kill him yet! It might deactivate the stage.” I heard a struggle behind me and opened my eyes. Yagodo was grappling with Huang for the submachine gun. The bodyguard knocked him to the floor, jammed the toe of his boot into Yagodo’s back, and started kicking him toward the door. Sascha pointed at me.
“No, him!” Nguyen and Yagodo were still struggling on the floor. The gun butt struck me in the head again. Huang frog-marched me to the door.
“Jean, grab his hand and touch the handle with it,” called Sascha. Huang shoved me toward the cameraman and swept the muzzle toward Nguyen.
“Paul! Here, boy!” Yagodo shouted.
I heard the unlock tone. The door sprang open. The scent of blossoms blew in from the terrace. How did Yagodo’s avatar dog open a real door? I was trying to process this when something shoved me aside. A blur of golden fur sped past my feet.
“Hey, I know you.” The familiar sandpaper voice. My knees buckled and I pitched forward against the door. Again the voice. “Sorry, you better stay down. Talk to you later.”
“Shit! Who put the safety on?”
I heard the gunman swearing behind me and a man’s pitiful squeal, followed by the sound of crashing metal. I steadied myself against the door and turned. The cameraman had toppled over and was pinned under his array. Sascha was struggling with Paul and a man in black combat gear. Paul was going for her throat, while the man had her in a headlock.
It was Kaneda. I was seeing him through my right eye and his avatar through my left, in augmented reality.
“Paul, four o’clock!” Yagodo yelled from behind the sofa. He sounded like he was enjoying himself.
“My name’s not Paul!” Kaneda’s avatar barked. He jerked Sascha’s right arm behind her and pinned her in front of him, turning her toward the gunman. Huang couldn’t decide who was real, Kaneda or the dog. The muzzle of his gun jerked up and down.
“Heads up!” Kaneda yelled and propelled Sascha straight toward him.
“Stop or I’ll shoot!” Huang growled.
Kaneda put a huge hand on the nape of Sascha’s neck and threw her at the gunman. Huang dodged her and moved toward Kaneda, but Kaneda was faster. He grabbed Huang’s hands as they gripped the gun, and in one smooth movement stepped behind him and jerked them upward and back, folding Huang’s wrists sharply in the wrong direction. There was a sound like ripping fabric. The bodyguard bellowed in agony.
Sascha was gasping half crumpled against the wall. Kaneda grabbed the back of her neck, brought her head back for momentum, and slammed it against Huang’s goggles.
There was a crunching sound. Sascha shrieked. She and Huang collapsed in a heap on the floor.
“That was impressive,” said Yagodo, rising to his feet.
“You’ve sure got some bad taste. What is it with you and dogs?” grumbled Kaneda.
“You saved us, my friend. Tie them up for me, okay?”
“You could learn to listen. Hey, your guest brought something useful with him.” Kaneda stooped to pick up one of the jamming capsules scattered on the floor around the unconscious gunman. “Mamoru, help me feed these guys.”
“Sure, but we still have him to deal with.” I motioned to Gough, who had been watching everything from the sofa.
“Oh well, guess I have to do everything.” Kaneda grinned. Paul the avatar wagged his tail. Kaneda pushed a capsule into the gunman’s mouth. He gurgled and put his arms stiffly at his sides. His eyes bulged. Kaneda fed a capsule to Sascha and moved toward the cameraman.
“I have one last job for you,” said Yagodo. “It’s a piece of cake. Here’s the location.” He handed Kaneda a piece of paper.
“Piece of cake, right,” said Kaneda, studying the paper. “That’s what you said when we hijacked that ship off Singapore. All right. I’ll handle this. Hope to see you again, Mamoru.” He was already out the door.
Nguyen’s feet peeked out from behind the sofa. Was she shot? I looked behind the sofa. Kurokawa was kneeling next to her.
“I think she just fainted.”
“What about you, Takashi?”
“Oh, I’m fine.” Through my right eye I could see that his jacket sleeve was ripped. His hair was spiking in all directions, but he wasn’t hurt. Nguyen seemed to be asleep. There was no blood. “You look a little banged up, though.”
I squatted next to him. “Listen, I have to apologize. I thought you were in with those guys.”
He smiled. “I know. It’s okay. But what about him?” He nodded toward Gough. I took a deep breath and stood in front of him. Gough squinted up at me.
“Congratulations, Mamoru. You really cocked this up. Mother Mary is a failure. Meanwhile the march of genetic engineering goes on, with no one in control, thanks to you. You’re the terrorist.” He gestured dismissively to the image floating above the table. “Our kites captured the whole thing in high def. Grasshoppers using bioluminescence to communicate digitally.”
“So?” Kurokawa broke in.
“You don’t get it.” Gough sat back and lazily crossed his legs. “Mamoru just showed the world that artificial animals aren’t some unattainable dream. They weren’t just munching on SR06, either. They were engaged in directed activity using digital signaling. You even demonstrated that missions can be reformatted on the fly.” He jerked a thumb at the image Yagodo had pasted to the wall.
I’d thought of Gough as a naïve activist chasing an ideal world, but even without a background in science, he had grasped the significance of the Call Phase that Thep and I had coded.
“The boom in designed animals begins tomorrow. Engineers all over the world will be looking for backers. The big boys like L&B will be the tip of the iceberg. Tiny startups, totalitarian states, even high school students will be looking to make a killing because they know it can be done. Idiots like McCauley too.”
Gough’s point was the same one Thep had made the night before, a point I had overlooked. It was a shrewd insight. Even twenty years after losing his beloved Hermitage, genetic engineering and the fate of humanity remained his obsession.
“So what happens now?” said Gough. “The bugs we unleashed just happened to be a DARPA weapon, and you just happened to figure out how to hijack them for your own purposes. But the animals everyone is going to be scrambling to design? Some of them are going to be unstoppable breeders. You can bet on it.” He stood up and poked me in the chest. “You’ve opened Pandora’s box.”
“I know. You don’t need to explain it.”
His face stiffened and broke into a smile. I stepped closer and spoke right into his phony smile.
“I understand your fears. That’s why I’m publishing the source code. You saw the bar code over Mother Mekong. It’s the download link for the kit.”
“That’s insane! You’re going to put that tool in the hands of anyone who wants to play genetic engineer?” Gough took a step back in astonishment. His eyes opened as wide as Behavior Correction would let him.
“You got it.”
“But—but look at Takashi! You know the world is full of fools like McCauley. How can you put your trust in them?”
“Because it’s the best chance we have to move forward. Standing pat is not an option.” I’d been thinking about this for some time, but it had only been last night, when I was with Thep, that I’d finally decided it was the only way.
“There must be—has to be—a way to handle designed animals safely. DARPA has given us the best textbook we could’ve hoped for. Now the amateurs can’t do any damage.” I took a step closer to Gough. “Why don’t you help us find the way?”
I heard someone clapping. It was Yagodo, coming toward us with a folder under his arm. He had already downloaded the kit. The man didn’t waste time.
“Mamoru, you’re a hero. Audacious, but it was the right thing to do. This technology cost billions to develop. Giving humanity free access to a proven, safe path to designed animals will make sure no one is tempted to reinvent the wheel—the wrong way. Besides”—Yagodo opened the folder and riffled through the documents—“these files cover the whole range of things humanity has to start thinking about.”
He put a hand on my shoulder. “After tomorrow, we’ll be living in a different world. You did well.”
“Have you both lost your minds? I swear, the first biohazard that comes out of this, they’ll be gunning for you, Mamoru. You’ll be on the run for the rest of your life.”
“We won’t let that happen,” Kurokawa said. “I’ll make sure L&B does everything it can to protect him. It’s our responsibility to make the best use of the code he released.”
“If you ever need a job, Mother Mekong is waiting,” Thep said.
Gough snorted. “How long do you think that honeymoon will last? It’ll be a matter of time before the world turns against you.”
“The Hermitage is never coming back, Gough,” said Yagodo.
Gough said nothing. For a moment he just stared at his lap. His avatar betrayed no change of expression, but Yagodo’s words seemed to have touched a nerve.
“Mamoru’s going to need more than a few allies to protect him from humanity’s rage when this technology blows up in everyone’s face. It’s too bad, but it’s the truth,” he said finally.
Yagodo gave him a piercing look. “That’s why everyone needs to own the code, and not just the ‘big boys.’ We want the whole world to get involved. Mamoru understood the necessity of this. I think you realize it too.”
“Gough?” Kurokawa left Nguyen’s side and sat beside him. “I want you to know something. Without tough critics like you, genetic engineering and distilled crops would be in trouble. Nothing devised by human beings is perfect. I’m living proof of that.”
Gough was silent for a beat. “Takashi, be honest with me. You read my offer, didn’t you? Why didn’t you take me up on it?”
Kurokawa paused. “All right, I’ll be honest. You nearly had me. Living in this body is a personal tragedy. But I believe in the future.” He peered at Gough steadily. “So does Mamoru. That’s why he released the code.”
“You’re willing to bet humanity’s future on a bunch of idiots you can’t control?”