Manifestations (37 page)

~ * ~

‘Hello, Pete. Wake up,’ a voice said.

Pete was in the cockpit of a Services squib. His left arm was comfortably heavy and he could feel the symbiot reclaiming his body.

‘Geof? You got me out of there?’ he asked.

‘More the Colonel’s influence than mine.’ Geof sounded the same. All sentences spoken as if reporting status updates.

‘So they have found a use for me after all,’ Pete said.

‘The Colonel has been on the up since the latest Kronos disaster.’

‘I don’t know what that is.’

‘You’ve missed a lot, haven’t you?’

‘Have you found Pierre Jnr? Is that why I am here?’ Pete asked.

‘We haven’t had much time to focus on him.’

‘But what about your pattern tracking?’

‘No. No luck there. There’s too much noise in the data now. We have anomalies everywhere, not to mention a huge grey zone over the Cape.’

‘What’s happening there?’

‘I can’t tell you about it, Pete. Sorry.’

‘That’s okay. I understand your position.’

Pete watched the clouds passing under him for a while. Flying in that peaceful zone above the weather.

‘So where am I going?’ he asked eventually.

‘First, back to Yantz to rejoin your team.’

‘Arthur?’

‘Yes. Your squad has a new Ten.’

‘What happened to Clarence?’

‘He was promoted.’

‘And Anchali? What will happen to her?’

‘She will stay where she is for now.’

‘I understand,’ Pete said again. He did understand. There was a presence inside of him that understood. He understood that he had no choice. Until he could escape he would never have a choice. ‘What is the assignment?’

‘Are you sure you are ready for this? You don’t want to rest first?’

‘Geof, I don’t think I’ve ever had so much rest.’

‘It’s Risom. He’s gone on a killing spree.’

‘Then we will have to stop him.’

‘Wait —’ Geof said.

‘I was just saying —’

‘Hold on. I have to go.’

‘What is it?’ Pete asked but their connection was broken.

Pete: Geof?

~ * ~

It was quiet on the beach. Jessop watched flocks of birds heading inland. Perhaps a bad storm was coming, though his stream hadn’t been sent any alarms.

‘Ah, snag it. Get back here, Poog!’ he shouted at the dog that was tearing down the beach to investigate the piles of seaweed and rubbish that were washing up with the tide. She bounded joyfully from heap to heap. Dogs have to sniff everything.

It was a long beach, a slow curve to the headland. The tide coming in was foamy and left a line of scum on the sand as it pulled back, like saliva around an old man’s mouth — dotted with happy surprises for a curious canine.

Jessop saw Poog running towards a dark lump on the tide line.
A black rock,
he thought, but ran to catch up in case it was a dead thing. Poog would want to eat it. Before reaching the pile, his dog slowed and entered a wary stance, staring hard at something. Her tail wasn’t wagging.

‘Leave it alone, Poog.’

But the damn dog didn’t listen, she sniffed closer and pressed her nose to something. Jessop heard her moan just before she collapsed. Something black was stuck to her face.

He threw himself down and tried to grab the edge of it to pull it off. But it must have been sharp as it jabbed his hand. Spines emerged and drove through his skin. In pain he fell back but his hands were caught and he fell over, kicking and pushing with his legs. He felt it pushing up his arms and he was screaming.

When Jessop’s stream stopped broadcasting the helper bots from his house and those of his closer neighbours rushed to the point of his last transmission.

Their signals cut out too. That’s when the alarm sounded and the beach was closed.

~ * ~

When the squib touched down, Pete waited for an indication of what he should do next. Geof hadn’t contacted him since he broke off and Pete spent the whole flight wondering what had taken him away. He looked down for a line to direct him to his next destination but none appeared.

Someone knocked on the wall of the squib, making him jump. He was lost in his own thoughts — if they were his own thoughts. It was Gock, the Prime’s proxy. He was the same. He hadn’t left the needle since returning from Atlantic, living in confinement with Arthur in the next room.

‘We are waiting for you downstairs.’

Pete climbed obediently out of the squib and went to the elevator. It took them down and the doors opened quietly into the common area. He stepped out and saw a thin well-dressed man he didn’t recognise.

Pete, it’s me. Arthur.

‘Arthur ...?’ He blinked and remembered. The empath he had helped collect no longer looked like the scrawny and wasted being they had found. ‘Arthur!’ he exclaimed and stepped forward to embrace him. ‘You look well. I didn’t recognise you.’

‘It’s me. It’s me. What do you think?’ Arthur pulled out from the hug and turned in a circle. ‘I’m like a new man.’

Pete sensed outward, and agreed. Arthur was different inside too. His thoughts were clear and unmuddled. ‘I can see that.’

‘How have you been?’ Arthur asked.

I
... He couldn’t think how to answer and instead let Arthur share in his memories of his time on the islands, the people, the joining. ‘I’m happy to be back. Tell me, what have you been doing?’
Any news on Pierre Jnr?

None.
‘I’ve been here mainly. Occasionally I get taken out for a walk to tell them what I can detect. It’s been a lot quieter without you.’

Which probably means they have something planned. If it was just Risom, they would have left me there.

I think another push is coming. They’re getting scared.

Arthur shared his recollections of the news he had gleaned from the world and the Weave. The rise of the psis in Atlantic and the break in the Services blockade. As well as Kronos in Busan and Mexica.

‘What is that thing?’ Pete asked.

‘I’d hardly be the one to know. I only see what they’re willing to show me. Have you seen Anchali?’ Arthur asked.

‘They’re keeping her on the islands.’

‘Perhaps if you are good, she will be returned,’ the Prime’s proxy, Gock, said, remembering her figure and fondling his memories.

‘Please don’t do that,’ Pete said.

‘Do what?’ Gock asked.

‘Think of her that way.’

‘Oh, you mean like this?’ In his mind, he fucked her bent over and she screamed for more.

‘I said, don’t.’ Pete took hold of Gock’s mind and plucked out the memories of Anchali. He wasn’t exactly sure how he did it, but he found them, he removed them and then it was done. ‘Thank you.’ Pete felt ill and Arthur was looking at him askance. ‘Why are you here, Gock? Are you still proxy for Ryu Shima?’

‘Yes. But he hasn’t communicated with me yet.’

‘Until he does, you should stay in your room.’

‘Yes.’ Gock turned and shuffled back to his area, leaving the lounge for Pete and Arthur.

What did you do?
Arthur asked.

I didn’t mean to.

You shouldn’t do that. That is bad.

I know. It was an accident.

Pete
...
you don’t feel like you
...

I know. I am a bit of all of them. They are a part of me now. Anchali, La Gréle, all the psis on the island.

What did you do
?

I don’t know, Arthur. But it was wonderful.
‘I think I shall go lie down until they need me.’

Pete showered and stood in front of the mirror. Was this his face? Was this external body a part of him? The receptacle for his soul?

‘Are you there?’ he asked his reflection.

The mirror remained inanimate. It was only a reflection of a tired man.

Sleep escaped him. Eyes open or closed, he saw things that kept him awake. Memories, dreams, eyes. Or the ceiling with its single light.

He stood and looked out the window for a time, looking down on the spread of Yantz below.

It was dark when Geof pinged his symbiot.

Pete: I’m ready.

~ * ~

It wasn’t easy to avoid detection in the union cities with their almost total surveillance. Omnipoles recorded the movement of Citizens with cameras, audio recordings and Weave contact. As most Citizens wore a bot or a chain of thinking trinkets, the location of any individual could be pinpointed in a second.

Risom had to dress as a denizen, one who lived amongst them but refused to join the Citizenry, and he relied on the adage of the three evils to avoid detection. Speak no evil, hear no evil and see no evil; which meant he didn’t say a word, had stolen a trinket that would broadcast a digital mask, and he kept his hood up and his arm covered over.

He didn’t have time for a full skin-symb like Grey had used, but after acquiring a skate, or squib-bike, it didn’t matter as he could wear his helmet everywhere he went.

The skate was controlled with gyroscopic sensors, so he could lean his body to turn and bend forward or backward to speed up and slow down. They called it the Streamline. The newest in skates that used the same patented tech as squibs, but single-seated and with a canopy so thin you could forget it was there. It made a soft whumming sound that repeated faster as he accelerated.

Risom hovered in place by the upper floors of a trade tower, feeling out with his senses for the man he was seeking.

Come out, come out, wherever you are.

Nigel Westgate was somewhere inside, perhaps too deep in the building for Risom to detect, but he could sense people who knew where he was. He flew in, landed at the nearest parking platform and went in search of his prey.

He had come in the back of Magnus Tower 4, and Nigel was on the far side that overlooked the central plaza. Risom turned other people’s thoughts away so they walked past without looking at him. He found one of the horizontal lifts that took him quickly to the east side.

Darkened windows offered a shaded view of the gardens and rail station.
That is a very industrious ant colony down there,
he thought to himself. And like ants he could ... his fingers sought out his metal limb and caressed it. But that would have to wait, first came Nigel.

‘Excuse me, I have an appointment with Nigel Westgate,’ he said to the secretary.

‘There’s nothing on his ...’ As the man scrolled through the diary Risom made him see an entry with his name on it. ‘Yes. Here it is. Risom Cawthorne. Please go right in. He is expecting you.’

~ * ~

The office wasn’t much to look at. There were posters of the man himself on the walls, giving rousing talks to crowds of thousands. Westgate was slack in his chair, head back with a visor over his eyes.

Risom leant over him and dipped into the man’s mind. Nigel was immersed, hosting one of his APL rallies where they swarmed over otherwise innocent forums and through constant activity and strength of numbers silenced their dissenters.

‘How can we ever be safe? We must remove all psis from our planet.’

The APL members seconded and amplified his message. They looked at him for their next rally call but Nigel was suddenly stuck on his words. He stuttered. ‘N ... I’m wrong ... The psis are our friends and I am one of them. Pierre Jnr is our lord and master ...’

‘Ahh!’ Nigel screamed and fell from his chair. He could hear the alarms and scurried under his desk.

‘Are you trying to hide from me, Nigel?’ Risom tutted. ‘Why would you think that would work?’ The desk lifted up to the ceiling where it wobbled above Nigel’s cowering form. ‘You’re going to have to try harder than that.’ He threw the desk through the window, glass smashing loudly and the whistle of winds sucking at the room.

Nigel sprang for the door and ran.

‘That’s the spirit.’ Risom smiled.

The building was emptying out. He could feel the people running from him, alerted to his presence. It was obvious they knew who he was so he removed his helmet and kept walking after his prey.

‘Niiiiiiiiigel. Oh, Niiiiiiiiiigel,’ he called. Risom made faces for the cameras just before he popped them. ‘I can feeeeeel yoooou.’

He turned the corner and saw a man’s ankle disappear behind the next turn. Risom shot a pebble at him, exploding it into the wall where his target had just been.

‘That was a close one, Nigel. You should run faster.’ The man yelped and tried for more speed. ‘Nigel, you do know that I could get you whenever I wanted, don’t you? I’m only playing with you until —’ Peter Lazarus was standing in the corridor, blocking his path. ‘About time you got here.’

‘Were you waiting for me, Risom?’

‘Yeah. Did you come alone?’

‘The building is covered and you’re marked, Risom. You won’t get away.’

Risom watched as elevator doors closed, blocking Nigel Westgate from sight. ‘He didn’t even say goodbye.’ Risom feigned disappointment.