Upgrade (62 page)

“They took Marlene into Entertainment.
 
She was supposed to be technical.
 
But then there was this big break, an opportunity of a lifetime — if only she’d…”
 
Haraway looked at him, then turned away from the window.
 
“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

Mason chewed that one over for a moment.
 
“Fat black man?”

“He wasn’t so fat.
 
Not back then.”

“Does he know?”

Haraway looked at him.
 
“Know what?”

“Know that you know.
 
That you arranged a new contract for your sister.
 
That you knew what… what happened to her.”
 
Mason leaned back.

“No,” said Haraway.
 
“Maybe.
 
I don’t think so.”
 
She shrugged.
 
“I’m not sure.
 
I’m not sure of anything anymore.
 
He probably suspects.”

“What do you mean,” said Mason, “that you picked me?”

“I picked you,” said Haraway, “because you ask the right questions.
 
I picked you because you see the right things.
 
I picked you because you care about the wrong things at the right time.”

Mason blinked, then took a step back.
 
He turned to the window, side to her, before he spoke.
 
“Do you know how this game is played?”

“I don’t even know the rules,” she said.

“Carter has sent the Federate on a chase,” said Mason.
 
“She sent Harry up to the Great Wheel.”

“Why is Harry by the Great Wheel?”

“Because Harry owes me,” said Mason.
 
“He’s probably not there anymore.
 
Sent.
 
Past tense.”

Haraway looked confused.
 
“What?”

“Keep up,” said Mason.
 
“You’re the smart one.
 
Look, the Federate is chasing its tail right now.
 
Seeing conspiracies everywhere.
 
The best way to keep them on the sideline is to give them an actual conspiracy.”

“You gave them Harry?”

“What?
 
No.”
 
Mason frowned.
 
“Carter’s dousing the inside of the Federate information network with false intel.
 
She’s told Harry.
 
She’s set Harry in play.”

“Harry knows?”
 
Haraway frowned.
 
“What does that buy us?”

“Not a lot,” said Mason, “unless we get someone else involved.”

Haraway rubbed her face, the expression tired.
 
“Who?”

“Reed.”

“Reed?”
 
There was a hint of anger in her voice now.
 
“We’re signing a deal with Reed?”

“No,” said Mason.
 
“We’re sending Reed against the Federate.”

“I don’t understand at all,” said Haraway.
 
“Who…
 
How?”

“Metatech,” said Mason.

“Metatech?”

“Metatech,” said Mason.
 
“Metatech are sending Reed against the Federate.
 
Carter’s giving the Federate the wrong information.
 
Metatech are giving Reed the wrong information.
 
Everyone’s got the wrong information.
 
Except us and Metatech.”

“Oh my God,” said Haraway, her eyes wide.
 
“You’re starting a syndicate war.”

“I don’t know about that,” said Mason.
 
“I’m pretty sure
you
started this.
 
I’m just trying to get us out in one piece.”

“You’re…
 
You’re doing this for me?”
 
Haraway’s voice was small.
 
“After what I did?”

“After you set me up and lied to me, you mean?” said Mason.

Haraway didn’t say anything, but gave a sharp nod.

“No,” said Mason.
 
“I should shoot you in the head and leave you dead.
 
But you’ve got debts to pay, and I can’t pay them for you.
 
You’re part of the deal.
 
You’re signing up with Metatech.”

“I’m…
 
I’m part of the—”

“There’s a girl out there who’s getting out.
 
She’s going to be free.
 
If that means you and I have to work for a living, well, shit.
 
It’ll be just like old times.”
 
Mason leaned forward.
 
“But I’ll give you something.
 
For free.”

Haraway’s voice was a whisper.
 
“What?”

“My word, Jenni.”
 
Mason turned back to the window.
 
“After this?
 
We’ll find your sister.”

⚔ ⚛ ⚔

They were waiting on the street when they caught sight of the convoy.
 
Three APCs, black and hard in the sun.
 
His optics picked out the crossed sabers of Metatech on the side.

Smooth and quiet, the APCs pulled up.
 
Doors on the sides hinged open, men in black Metatech armor spilling out.
 
They worked the sight lines on the street, weapons ready.

All except one, who walked towards Mason.

“Hi,” said the man with immaculate cuffs.
 
Mason’s eyes moved up his tailored suit to the Metatech sabers stitched into the jacket’s lapel.
 
“I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

Julian paused, his hand almost on the handle.
 
Behind the door was —

Pain.
 
There was always pain.

“Come in,” said Prophet, his voice muffled through the door but clear in Julian’s mind.

Watching as if it belonged to someone else, Julian let his hand touch the handle, grip it.
 
He pushed the door open, into the room of dark wood and plush carpet beyond.
 
Prophet stood at the window —
always at
that
window
— his back to Julian.
 
“Master?”

“Yes,” said Prophet, not turning.
 
“How is the repair of the device coming along?”

“It’s pretty trashed,” said Julian, “but you knew that already.”

“Yes,” said Prophet.
 
“I knew it already.
 
Having you here gives me someone to…
 
What’s that delightful word you use?
 
I have someone to hold accountable.”

Julian swallowed.
 
“I—”

“Do you know why I want it?”
 
Prophet turned and looked at Julian.
 
“Do you know what Prophet means?”

“A soothsayer,” said Julian.
 
“You predict the future.”

Prophet’s face twisted into a smile.
 
“It means…
 
I am a teacher, Julian.
 
I can’t see the future.
 
But I follow a prophecy.”

“A…
 
What?”

“A prophecy.
 
A map of how the world is meant to be.
 
Our scripture says this Heaven you live in is a place of wonder, and a savior will be brought from here to redeem our world.”

Julian looked at Prophet, then at the window to the cloudscape beyond.
 
He’s mad
.
 
“I’ve heard stories like that before.”

“I know,” said Prophet, “but this isn’t a story.
 
This is a real thing, as tangible as the leather of your very expensive shoes.”

“Real?
 
Master, forgive me, but there’s no—”

“There is,” said Prophet.
 
“The future is laid out.
 
Oh, it’s not rigid like the metal you make your wonderful machines with.
 
It’s soft, like the edges of the clouds outside our window.
 
But they’re still clouds, and you can see them, watch how they form and move.
 
The future is like that.”

“How—”
 
Julian stopped.
 
How does he know?
 
He seems so certain.

“Yes, I am,” said Prophet.
 
He tapped his temple with a finger.
 
“I can’t see the future, Julian.
 
That’s not one of my gifts.
 
Only once in ten generations is an oracle born.
 
The gift is rare.
 
But we always find them, and we…
 
We pull it from them.
 
The last was born hundreds of your years ago, and the records show she screamed right until the end.”
 
The man turned back to the window.

Julian swallowed, looking back to the black stain against the wall where a man had died.
 
Prophet hadn’t had it cleaned —
probably some kind of message.
 
We get it.
 
“What did she say?”

“That a bridge would be formed to Heaven.
 
Three people would cross the bridge.
 
That an angel would be brought back to enforce rule.”

“She said that?”
 
Julian frowned.
 
“What about the three people?
 
Three seems pretty specific.”

“Interpretation is the art of prophecy, Julian,” said Prophet.
 
“Fortunately, we don’t need to rely on interpretation.
 
She didn’t
say
it.
 
It was laid out in her mind.”

“And you’re the angel.”

“If you like,” said Prophet.
 
“So I ask again.
 
How is the repair of the device coming?
 
I need to rebuild a bridge.”

“We don’t even know if that Federate device is—”

“Are you blind or stupid?” said Prophet, a stab of pain lancing between Julian’s eyes.
 
He yelled, falling to his knees, clutching his head.
 
Prophet came to stand over him, the pain increasing.

“Master!
 
Please—”

“Did you not
see
me walk out of the air?
 
Did you not
watch
the bridge die as the machine was destroyed?”
 
Prophet turned away and the pain stopped, leaving Julian gasping.

“I…”
 
Julian looked down at the floor, saw the vomit there.
 
He hadn’t realized he’d thrown up.
 
He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
 
“We don’t understand the science of it.”

“What do you need?”
 
Prophet turned to look at him.
 
“Ah.
 
I see it.
 
You don’t know how it
could
work.
 
You need access to the Federate, to their scientists.”

“Yes,” said Julian.
 
“We have an angle.
 
We can—”

“This name,” said Prophet.
 
“Marlene.
 
Who is she?”

“She’s no one,” said Julian.
 
“She’s dead.
 
She was part of a failed deal few years back.
 
But her sister—”

“Is the head of Atomic Energy Research and Development at Apsel, yes.
 
I understand.”
 
Prophet frowned, turning back to the window.
 
“How can you bring her back from the dead?”

“We won’t have to,” said Julian.
 
“But, Master, I need—”

“You need to get into a synthetic.
 
So you can be strong again.”

“Yes.
 
I’m more use to you…
 
I’m better in the field.”
 
And, with luck, no longer a close throat to choke
.

Prophet laughed, the sound rough at the edges.
 
“This is why I keep you alive, Julian.
 
You’re correctly
incentivized
to come up with solutions.
 
Very well.
 
Do as you will.
 
But two last things.”

“Master?”
 
Julian started to get up from the floor.

“First,” said Prophet, “no one else must have this gate.
 
Destroy the Federate.
 
Wipe them from the Earth.
 
I don’t care what it takes.
 
You will have soldiers, all the bodies the city can give you.”

“I — very well, Master.
 
The other thing?”

“It’s time to get this carpet cleaned.
 
See to it.”

Julian left the Prophet’s presence, closing the door behind him.
 
Now
he wants the carpet cleaned.
 
Chrissakes
.

“Seriously,” said the Metatech man, “did I catch you at a bad time?”
 
His hand was still outstretched, palm open.

Mason reached out, accepted the hand.
 
Metatech’s grip was firm without being a vice.
 
Not a challenge
.
 
Mason let his eyes move past the man to what stood behind him.
 
He counted the men —
six
— and went to…
 
“Who’s the kid?”

There was a squeal behind him, and Laia ran forward past Metatech and leapt into a fierce hug with the kid.
 
The kid took a step back, then grabbed her back just as hard, lifting her off her feet.

Metatech looked behind him.
 
“That’s Zach.”

“Laia’s brother?”

“The girl’s name’s Laia?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s her brother.”
 
Metatech shrugged.
 
“Military hardware and family reunions.
 
It’s what we’re best at.”