Regenesis (45 page)

She had someone to turn down her bed that night—spooky, at first sight. She wasn’t used to that, not since Nelly had left her. She assumed Joyesse had done it, or ordered it. She put on her nightgown—unaided—draped yesterday’s clothes over the chair and started to go to bed.

But the computer in her room suddenly showed a unique flasher on an otherwise dark screen, a flasher that lit the adjacent wall red, and her heart picked up its beats.

Not a mail notification that blipped quietly in a corner.
Log On
, it said, across the screen.

She sat down at the counter and did that, no question. And the screen blinked, and became text.

“So you’re making a move toward power,”
Base One said in the first Ari’s voice.
“And you wonder how I can guess that. Wonder instead who else can guess it, and act appropriately.”

It wasn’t really Base One doing the thinking. It was the first Ari, who’d set certain criteria, and when she met them, things turned up. This one had. And it sent a chill down her back. No good trying to talk to it. It had something to say, and it would say it come hell or high water.

“Correctly identify your allies and your enemies, young Ari. I don’t say friends, because that word is misleading and it can deliver you into a serious mistake. Some people you don’t like are allies and some people you do like are enemies once you choose a certain course of action, and by now you should understand that.”

She did. She had understood it. But Ari Senior put it into words in a particularly cold way that did nothing for the shivers. She wore a thin nightgown in a room cooled for nighttime, and she hugged her arms about herself, because Base One wouldn’t stop once it started, wouldn’t stop, wouldn’t pause, didn’t care about her weaknesses or her excuses.

“Rely on Florian and Catlin. No others.”

There was Justin. Marco. Wes. But, she thought, Elder Ari didn’t know them. But if elder Ari had intended to leave a loophole she would have left it.

“Particularly be cautious about trust. Trust stops reasoning. Look carefully at those you trust. Taking offense stops reasoning, too. You may find a certain person has betrayed you. Limit the offending person so his misdeed cannot possibly repeat itself. Waste no time in regret or sympathy.”

I’m about to do that. I’m ahead of you here, older Ari.

“Assume the worst case where it regards those possessing what you intend to take. Assume violent resistence or clever resistence. Assume sabotage. Once you move, move decisively and pitilessly to protect your own allies. If you have pity, bestow it appropriately, on those helping you. Reward compliance and you’ll be surrounded by the compliant.”

That’s not necessarily a good thing, older Ari.

“…which is not necessarily a good thing, young Ari.”

That was spooky. That was just downright
scary
.

“You’ll need complete control of ReseuneSec to protect yourself. For the rest, rely on Base One. At need, you can lock anyone out of communication. Your codeword is CannaeCannaeCannae. Input that and the Base you target will only respond to you. You will at that point be able to dispense other codewords, so have them ready, but hand a Base access only to those who are both friends and allies.”

Control on a platter. Elder Ari had set it all up for her, the way elder Ari had had Base One assemble itself out of bits and pieces and come alive. She’d triggered something without intending it or even knowing it existed, and possibly it would just roll on like a juggernaut, without her being able to stop it.

She thought: I don’t know if I want this. I don’t know if I want to lock Yanni out. I’m not ready to do that. Hicks’ people—they could start shooting. Hicks is Yanni’s man, I’m pretty sure. What am I supposed to do about that?

“Key your receipt of this message so the program is sure you heard it. It will replay on demand, should you need to review it. I recommend that.”

She keyed her login. Said yes to the question. And the screen went dark again, shut down.

She hugged her arms around her and stared at it, feeling the cold go numb, the mind—the mind traveling its own starless space.

Joyesse found her that way some time later, and hovered by her, saying, “Sera? Sera? Are you well?”

She knew it was Joyesse. The surface mind still took account of things, but the deeper thoughts didn’t want to be interrupted. She got up, and walked toward the bed, and got in, letting Joyesse draw the covers over her. She shut her eyes, but she wasn’t asleep, wouldn’t sleep, not while her thoughts were going over the dynamic that was Reseune, and the legislature, and the necessity of appropriating ReseuneSec.

She didn’t want to pull the trigger. She didn’t
want
to lose Yanni. She didn’t
want
to treat Yanni as an enemy, but Hicks had told Florian they were going to have top-level access and either Yanni was hiding things from ReseuneSec, or ReseuneSec was hiding things from them.

And that wasn’t good.

Hicks was giving them a gift. Did they trust the thirty agents they were getting?

Assume the worst case where it regards those possessing what you intend to take.

I do have to do something. And something we’ve done put Base One on alert. It had a trigger tripped. Something I did, or that Florian or Catlin did, tripped it, and that means Yanni may figure it out, too, or Hicks might.

If it wasn’t us that tripped the alarm—if Yanni’s moved…

It was the middle of the night. She couldn’t call Justin. She
shouldn’t
call Justin and ask him to hurry in his assessments on the security sets. That wasn’t the way to get the best results.

Base One, however, could find out how he was doing. Base One could get into any computer in the Wing.

She got up, grabbed a robe from the closet this time, and said, “Base One, on.”

Base One asserted itself in the computer, and turned the terminal on. She sat down. She searched up computers that were active in the Wing and found Justin’s office net with no trouble at all. It was listed as secure, probe-proof. That meant nothing to Base One, which ran System in the Wing. She simply had a look into the files, and ran a search for recent files involving betas.

There they were, in a folder labeled
goddess1
.

Goddess
, was it? Sarcastic, maybe. Justin could be that. It was certain he had no interest in her
that
way. He’d made that clear when she was, oh, much, much too young. And he was settled with Grant. She’d be a fool to mess with that attachment, a really great fool.

She read the notes on the people Hicks had sent her. Justin had started with the bottom, the gammas. Number one gamma, passed, number two, passed.

She read far beyond that. He had left the betas for last, and was two individuals from finishing, which meant he might be done tomorrow.

“Sera?” From the door. Joyesse again. “Sera, would you like anything?”

“Nothing,” she said, and Joyesse went away. Ari delved deeper, deeper into her own understanding of sets, and read Justin’s notes, and absorbed his comments, which made
sense
. He saw, clear as clear, where the sets were vulnerable to a command, and noted push-button items that just had to be patched, was all.

Easy to do. She knew the way to do it. People reacted—to expectation of good stimulus, like praise; to fear, linked to imagination—imaginative people feared a wider range of things. And some people had an “off” switch that routed an idea to the analytic faculties, and some—mus, which they didn’t birth many of, were like that—you started them on a track and they’d follow it without a second thought. Mus wanted everything to be the same all the time—they were happier when it was like that—unless what they were assigned linked to a desire for an adrenaline rush, which was a whole other problem…

Betas, however, tended to overcheck and hesitate, and reconsider, and given an adrenaline rush, they dithered a second and then acted. These were guards. They had lightning-quick fuses where it came to threat against their Contract holders. But she also had to defuse their “pause” switch where it came to reluctance to report something as yet unresolved.

Report any anomaly to Florian or Catlin immediately, she’d tell them: they’ll take the responsibility.

And being azi, the new people would do that, once they took that order deep: they’d
want
that contact with Florian and Catlin—they’d be uneasy and unresolved until they got it, and they’d run to get it.

And if there was some buried contrary instruction in the stack, say, one to report to Hicks or Yanni, something that just somehow hadn’t gotten into the records, that command to go to Florian, emphasized with a hard drug punch, would send them into profound emotional conflict—enough to show up, fast, in a very, very upset azi. If you ever feel conflicted, she’d tell them, additionally, report to Florian immediately.

If you can’t find a bug in a set, elder Ari’s tape had told her, just do something to make the conflict show itself—
make
the subject react, never mind finesse. Present a quandary, contrary to the direction you suspect the bug to react, identify it—and excise it.

So just give me the files, Justin. Quit fretting. I need to get to work, and I need these people. Whatever’s been done, if it was done, it’s not going to be in any record. That’s what we have to worry about.

Justin thought she was still studying the basics—maybe thought she was out of her depth with these security sets; or he was, which was possible, he hadn’t really worked with the type before.

She had. From childhood. She knew Florian and Catlin. She looked at the possibilities in a security azi tape…

And she suddenly had a picture of how to solve any problem in a security azi set. It was right in the same place in the set that they attached the compulsion. Just conflict it, and get angst in the subject, and then resolve the angst, leaving the subject feeling oh, so much better. In azi, deep set work was so much easier. Deep set stuff didn’t need to be unhooked from all sorts of randomly acquired born-man thinking, which ran like a bad cabling job; and it didn’t even have to be unhooked from the later instructions: if there were conflicts, they’d show. The azi in question, above delta level, was very likely to report his own conflicts. Azi were so, so elegantly clean. A thought led to very planned places, economical, and ideally un-conflicted, everything structured and architectured and efficient.

And she wasn’t. God, she wasn’t. Her thoughts skipped all over the place. They tunneled, they ran riot through completely extraneous topics, they hopped from one point to another—pity the programmer that tried to solve
her
.

But a beta with a buried directive?

Damn if she couldn’t bring
that
to the surface, by exactly such brute-force mechanics as the first Ari said.

And she’d make the tape for the head of her new Security, beta azi he might be, but she could make the instructional tape herself, right to the deep sets, and be sure of him. She’d send Catlin down to barracks, to sit there and personally see he got it.

And when he woke up, he’d know definitely who was in charge and who could cure any angst he felt.
She
could help him. She would be his first recourse, in any case of doubt, because
she
was the highest authority in Reseune, and Reseune was the highest authority on the planet, and an azi who had access to her had access to having his questions answered definitively and absolutely. An azi who obeyed
her
directives was always in the right—as any azi wanted with all his being to be correct. Any delivery of information to anyone other than her chain of command was utterly forbidden; any request from anyone outside her chain of command had to be cleared, and any lingering doubt was utterly overcome by the power she had within Reseune. She owned his Contract, and any azi under that authority could be assured, very assured, that he was psychologically safe following her orders.

She took notes. She took abundant notes on the officer’s set, which she had scanned before she sent it to Justin, and for good measure she looked up deepsets for four of the unrelated gamma genotypes with a related program list, for whom the same tape would be quite, quite sufficient. For three others, again program sets related to each other, she could do a minor modification in the directive, but it sufficed. For the newly arrived Theo and Jory—a little different approach, but much the same. Physically, they were easy to get at. Intervening with Hicks’ incoming security team was logistically a little harder, but Catlin could manage. Catlin would go armed, and if the subjects had a psychotic episode—meaning her rewiring had hit a major or a lethal block—Catlin would deal with it, get the individual sedated, and notify her, specifically, that someone had tried something.

Sorry, Justin, sorry you’ve had to sweat this, and I know you hate real-time work worse than poison. You don’t need to send it to me: I see your notes, and they help me. They show me what I need to do, and it’s in the deep sets, not the things they’ve hung on it.

No wonder it’s driving you crazy. It’s like a birthday cake, icing all over, decorations here, decorations there, all sorts of programs and routines added on, none of it really showing you what’s underneath. We just need to slice right into it, and you’re far too kind for that.

I can’t afford to be. Maybe later, but not now, not in this.

J
UNE
7, 2424
0821
H

Early to the office, early to work, mindful of the extra requests, and there was a note from Ari, time-stamped yesterday at 1701:
Justin: I’m really anxious to have your comments on the sets I gave you. Please hurry.

Hurry. Hell. He’d already hurried.

Then another one, time stamped this morning at 0131:
It’s not that urgent. Relax.

Haste makes waste,
he messaged back.
But I’m hurrying. I should have something for you this evening. And when are you sleeping, anyway?