Manifestations (5 page)

His teacher’s stream was closed to him, censured from above: it was the challenge for every scout to learn about their teacher. Mister Lizney had moved into the area three years ago, brought in by the social engineering department to help train the young boys and girls in the area who wanted to work the Weave when they matured. He had twenty students on his roster. Zach had their names and ages, but had found no pattern to them, and he was the only orphan amongst them. He knew their progress and knew he was in the middle tier. He knew that the mentor appraisals from Lizney’s students were positive, but no student had yet graduated, under Lizney’s tutelage, to a weaver position.

For now he didn’t have the ability to crack into Mister Lizney’s stream, but that also wasn’t the point of the exercise; that would be hakking. The aim of the challenge was to see the unseen. He, and the other students, had to find the Lizney-shaped hole in the datum to draw their conclusions. Somehow this pointless exercise was meant to teach them everything they needed to know, which Zach couldn’t understand.

All weavers swore by it as a valuable exercise though and Zach had resorted to studying the histories of some of the great weavers to see if they explained how they had defeated the challenge. There was nothing he accessed that had helped him. It was a search by word patterns that discovered recurrent mentions of
What We Can See,
a thought tract composed by Milawi Ortega that spoke in Confucian-type stanzas about observation. It also preached a learning practice that to Zach seemed to border on the religious.
Look, watch, believe, practise, accept
...
what was that supposed to mean?

There was data before it turned into data, so he was told. The Weave is not the whole world and everything carries information. Appearance, possessions, vocabulary. Manner, motivation. Outcomes.

For the last two weeks, Zach had been observing Mister Lizney. He had had his unit monitored, he even had some of the man’s clothes and pocket items chipped. His teacher lived in a modest home, more modest even than the orphanage. He kept no mementos on display, nor did he ever look at any when Zach revised the surveillance footage. Mister Lizney spent most of his alone-time immersed, probably monitoring his students. He might even know that Zach was watching him, but that didn’t seem likely, because if he did, something would have changed between them.

This is what Zach had observed so far. Lizney presented himself as the first wall for his students to climb. A hermit with no history who taught low rankers about the Weave — and yet he didn’t wear a symbiot. That was curious.

Today he greeted Zach at the door and waved him in. He had a wand in his mouth and a couple of handscreens wedged under his arms. Always busy with more than one project. Zach reached out to catch the screens before they fell. Lizney had stiff movements and always dropped things.

‘Why, thank you.’ He took the wand from his mouth. As he walked he rubbed his hip. It must be sore today. If Zach had a sylus, he would be able to scan him for implants. He would have to find a way to get one into the unit. After he’d found a way to get one, that is. He was always looking for new ways to gather data.

The man had thinning hair, which he must have chosen not to repair. When asked about it, he claimed he would revive his scalp when he could get around to it. Lizney wore his helmet almost permanently, a silver cap with tinted lenses that went from purple to opaque when he immersed. He wore a range of indoor kimonos with bright patterns that confused the eyes. In his off-time he enjoyed a little mesh, but never around the students.

Miles was a bit plastic in the face. His skin was pale, but turned a deep tan if he caught too much sun. Zach thought the sheen of it looked unnatural. Zoom-ups over one thousand per cent caught a regularity that indicated manufacturing. His teeth too had been replaced at some point.

Mister Lizney avoided the topic of his skin; he said there had been an accident and didn’t like talking about it. ‘This is one of those mysteries you are to solve, young Musashi.’ His smile was sad. His smiles were often sad. It was the only time Zach liked him, when he smiled like that. At other times Lizney’s face and manners seemed artificial and he acted as though he was barely managing to put up with his students.

‘How are you today? Tired yet?’

‘No, sir,’ Zach replied automatically.

“‘No, sir.” Very good. We can tick off “Shows continued respect for his elders” then. Of course I know your beta waves are down so you’re either lying to me or you have convinced yourself.’ He didn’t wait for an answer, but bent carefully into a seat, one of two that were angled together by the small window, and beckoned for his screens back. When Zach took the other chair Lizney tapped the air with the wand and drew a vertical line.

‘I see you are on track for your endurance badge. Very good. Now there is a note here from your foster. He says you’re having trouble with the other children.’

‘He said that?’ Zach pulled his helmet from his pocket, flicked it open and quickly looked through the lenses to see the overlay Mister Lizney had superimposed in the room. It gave Zach’s records, his stream, in an orderly but complicated arrangement of documents, footage and graphical analysis. Lizney pushed the note from Tom towards him with the wand and Zach read it quickly.

Oh,
he thought.
Bronwyn.

‘It’s not all the kids, I don’t see much of them at the moment. I’m shut in my study day and night. There’s just this one annoying girl. She poured cold water on me while I was under and then Tom caught me as I was chasing her ... hey, why are you smiling?’

Lizney fought to keep the twitching corners of his mouth from turning into a grin. Zach was amusing him. Everything seemed so funny to Lizney. ‘Maybe she likes you.’

Oh, this is a life talk.
‘She’s just a silly girl.’

‘She won’t always be. And someday you might not be a silly boy.’ Zach didn’t want to answer. He just wanted to have his lesson and go. ‘Okay, okay. You still choose to keep that block up. When you change your mind I am here to talk. If you would like.’

Not likely, weirdie.

Lizney whisked the stream closed and the air was empty save for the dust motes.

‘Now, I have to talk to you about what has been happening in Korea.’ His teacher took a deep breath. ‘You will have noticed in your last immersion that there was an increase in red zones.’ Zach nodded. ‘And you spent some time investigating the reason why.’ There was no denying it. It was in his stream. ‘I have to ask you, for your own safety, not to try to cross the barriers between you and this information. There is a quarantine over the area and Services is asking everyone to keep clear. Both on and off the Weave.’

‘What is it?’

‘I don’t know. I don’t know if anybody knows.’

‘Is it the psionics?’

‘It seems to be inorganic. You saw that on the satellite feed. Points off for not remembering. And points off because it was due to your obsession with the psis. Your bias is clouding you.’

Zach felt annoyed again. He should have remembered that but he didn’t deserve to be fined for it. ‘Pause it, why does this affect the Weave?’

Lizney smiled. ‘Okay, you can have some points back for asking. The answer I have been given is that the Weave quarantine is a precautionary measure.’

‘So what is it?’ Zach asked again.

‘Look, Zachary. Feel free to watch the Weave for more information. At the moment Services have the matter well in hand. Now, do you have any questions for me today, or should we look over your math?’

Zach thought for a moment. He had been meaning to ask about Lizney’s lack of symbiot for a while, but it seemed rude to ask.

‘I don’t know how to ask. It is personal.’

‘Don’t be shy, Musashi. I am here to be asked anything.’

‘It is about you.’

‘I see.’ Lizney’s warmth disappeared. ‘What have you found out?’

I’ve found out you’re afraid of what I will find. That means it must be something bad.
He would put a search through the malefactor list, maybe a visual would turn up something. ‘I haven’t found anything out yet, but I know that most teachers have symbiots. You don’t.’

‘Oh, I see.’ His relief was obvious. Even to a thirteen-year-old. ‘I’m not sure I can answer that without giving away the whole mystery. Why do you think I don’t wear a symbiot? Reason it out for me.’

‘I think you’re not allowed one,’ Zach said.

‘And is that the only possibility? Could it not be by my own choice?’

‘But you are a Weave teacher. And a scout master. Everyone old enough has one, even Lily.’ A small one, like a bangle.

Miles’s smile was thin and fixed, but he nodded at each suggestion. ‘Or I might value my privacy.’

‘Nyeah.’ Zach batted that idea away with his hand. ‘You’re not superstitious.’ Believing in privacy was like believing that a camera could steal your soul.

‘Oh? Is superstition the only reason for people to want privacy?’

‘Well, no. Of course not. Bad people need privacy to hide what they are doing.’

‘Maybe I am a bad person,’ Lizney suggested.

‘But then you wouldn’t be allowed to be my scout master,’ Zach answered.

‘True. Maybe I have something to hide?’

‘Like what?’

‘Musashi. I thought we had established the rules. That is for me to know and you to find out. I’m not going to tell you anything. You won’t learn that way.’

‘So you
are
hiding something,’ Zach said triumphantly.

‘Of course I am. That is the challenge of the exercise. I’m glad you have finally grasped the aims. Have you considered a medical explanation?’ Mister Lizney asked. He must be trying to confuse him. To dilute his perception. Zach must be on the right track,

‘I haven’t heard of anything like that,’ Zach answered.

‘Have you looked into it at all? I can assure you such studies do exist, and are freely available.’ Zach quickly flicked to the Weave, data mode, searching by phrase and keyword. ‘I’ll wait,’ Lizney goaded. He wasn’t lying, there were many documented cases where a symbiot connection was denied for health reasons. There was even a routine medical check before inception was allowed. ‘Perhaps I have religion.’

Zach cursed as again his search showed that there were numerous belief systems that imposed bans on the wearing of symbiots. Lizney had done it, he’d made him uncertain.

‘Zach, I give you points for your query. Even when one is uncertain, one should not hesitate to tell their teacher what they are thinking.’

‘I felt so sure.’

‘And you were right to express yourself. You deserve the reward. Now, for next week. When I noticed you’ve been reading
What We Can See,
I made a reading list for you of other classic works that I think have equal merit. Please have a scan of them before our next session.’

Musashi sagged as he read a list of fifteen titles. Fifteen! A children’s picture book,
A Stream Runs Through It,
to the larger
The Eight-day Empire of the Fourth Weave.
A tome of eight volumes. Lizney knew all along what Zach was doing and was now throwing obstacles in his path.

Zach picked up his bag, folded his visor down and shoved it in his pocket. ‘Thank you, Mister Lizney.’

‘Thank you, Musashi. I’ll see you next week.’

Sure enough, when he hit the tracks to his next lesson, the surveillance feeds he had connected to Lizney’s apartment had been disconnected. He still had the footage recorded from before though, so his stream hadn’t been rummaged. But if Lizney had known he was watching, he couldn’t trust what he had seen.

Zach looked at the time and swore. ‘Kutzo! I’m late.’ Zach left the tracks at Corona and took an express bus across the city. The rest of his day he went from one tutorial to another. Watanabe for general math, Kelso for code and Belinda Maxwell for Weave history.

By the time he got home his feet were throbbing and his eyes itched. He was a cycle behind on his scouting thanks to Bronwyn and he would have to skip some of his sleep time to catch up and claim his endurance badge. He dropped his bag in his study room and went for a shower.

It didn’t help as much as he had hoped. The warmth made him sleepy and he yawned as he put his visor on and it slipped off his nose. He tried again, but it kept sliding around his face. The inside was greasy with something, it smelt like butter ...

Oh, Bronwyn. Why would you want to bring the wrath of Musashi down upon you?

Wearily, he wiped it clean and began imagining what his revenge should be. Bronwyn didn’t immerse, so there was no opportunity for pranking her on the Weave. He thought about having one of her soft toys replicated on a roboform, and then having it attack her in the night. She’d be terrified! He grinned.

At least it gave him something to pursue. He looked around his neighbourhood for who had a replicator and might allow him to use it. Dozey down the street had one, but he was a mesh-head and the kids were forbidden to associate with him. There was a boy not that much older than Zach who had one too. He lived a short scoot away, but Zach didn’t know him.

He looked at the boy’s stream. Garry Antram, sixteen. Only child. He went to classes centred around culture studies, architecture and organisation. His father had bought him the replicator kit for his birthday and they’d built it together over two nights, just so his son could make his model cities. Windsor Antram, the father, was forty-six years old, partnered to Eliza Barthes, though Garry’s mother was a woman called Jasmin Tosche, who was now with a man who spent most of his time in the Cape. They hadn’t had any contact with him in weeks and Garry’s mother was becoming distraught.