[ I’d forgotten how much I hated that.]
[ I’ll sort it.]
[ You can block it?]
[Most people couldn’t, but I can!]
The logos became less hyperactive.
[ I’m sure there weren’t so many when I left,] sighed Jack.
[ Is that really a pole-dancing hamburger?]
[ I’m afraid so.]
[ Your human cultural achievements never fail to amaze me.]
[ The void sites have come online too.]
[ They sit in the marketing layer? Wow.]
Children’s faces hung over the city, monochrome memories of the lost. The images reset every thirty seconds or so, one sad face melting into the next. Sometimes a word would flash up – ‘Remember’, for example, or ‘Innocent’ or ‘Gone’.
[Depressing,] said Fist glumly.
[ They’re meant to be. Let’s have the social feeds.]
[OK …]
The geography of Docklands implied social networks. Interconnected engagement webs exploded across the landscape, making them visible. Informal groupings throbbed busily, as people entered their first status updates of the day and caught up with friends across the city. Dormant corporate networks shimmered through and beyond them. Soon they too would wake to life. Some would converge into rich, dense clumps, as employees settled into offices, factories, or shops. Some would remain stretched across the city, virtual businesses whose employees worked in a close digital proximity that made distance irrelevant. Some would pull workers out of Docklands entirely, into the Wart or Homelands. And some would leap into the void, clambering up the Spine to the wharves or beyond.
[ What’s everyone saying?] asked Jack.
The morning’s babble rose up around him. It was difficult to separate the messages. Excited voices shrilled joy at a new dawn, a new partner, even just an excellent cup of coffee, while the less perky dreaded the upcoming working day, bitched about waking up alone again, or bemoaned hangovers.
[ They’re all soooo mundane,] groaned Fist.
[ It’s what people do. It’s just as important as the big stuff.]
[ It’s pointless. What’s next?]
[Show me the Pantheon.]
[ You want to look at the gods? They’ll look right back at you.]
[ I trust your security arrangements, Fist.]
[ I’ll call them. They might be hard to damp at first. Close your eyes.]
[ Fist …]
[ No, really.]
Jack shut his eyes, and the world vanished. For a moment the hubbub of morning voices filled his ear, then that too died away. A breeze sang through the metal that surrounded him. Then a great flash broke in the sky, bright even through closed eyes. A deep, loud industrial hum shook itself into being. It sounded like a choir of machines chanting in a metal church.
[Containing the signal, Jack.]
The hum became a roar and then softened, modulating into a background throb that was almost gentle. There were eleven more flashes of light. Each was accompanied by a pulse of noise that Fist contained, again and again coming to terms with the numinous.
[ How’s it going?] asked Jack.
[Difficult to manage their outputs without feeding back our signatures, but it’s just about done. There – open your eyes!]
The world had changed. The Spine had been replaced by six great icons of the divine, representing each of the Pantheon. Only two appeared remotely human. There was Kingdom with his shaven head and East, looking reliably dazzling. She appeared in full figure, her clothes shimmering as they shifted and changed with the fashion whims of the moment. The Eastware in Jack’s mind responded to her presence, until Fist hushed it. For a moment Jack was at one with entire monasteries of her followers, solemnly hymning her dazzling style.
Then, there were the more abstract deities. The Rose’s petals were as violently red as they’d always been but the sharp green thorns partially hidden beneath them were entirely new. Sandal’s crystal cube rotated as slowly and deliberately as ever. The Twins were represented by a great set of constantly moving scales. First one side was in the ascendant, then the other. And of course, there was Grey.
He was a fallen god, no longer capable of acting as a free agent. But his corporate structures had not yet been fully absorbed by his competitors. Thousands of people still needed to use his apps, access data held on his servers, or call in other ways on his strategic and financial services. So his raven was still present, though it now made his broken status humiliatingly clear. A great iron band ran around its body, holding its wings tight to its sides. A silver chain glittered around its legs, and then ran up to its beak, holding it shut. A rag was tied around its head, covering its eyes. It had also been stripped of any animation.
[ That’s sad to see,] said Jack. [ It used to be so alert.]
The bird’s gaze had once constantly flickered back and forth across Docklands, tracking every single commercial transaction.
[ They’re … huge, Jack.]
[ You get used to them. After a while, you stop taking much notice.]
[ I can’t imagine that,] breathed Fist.
Thousands of slender silver threads drifted out from the base of each icon, falling away into the city. Each represented a link to an individual worshipper, dancing with sparkling light as data ran along it. Twined together, they showed the relative user bases of each Pantheon member.
[Look at Grey’s bundle,] said Fist.
It was far thinner than those descending from the other eleven icons, twine to their rope, and much duller – the colour of lead, not silver.
[ I’m surprised he’s still got that many followers.] Jack paused for a moment, suddenly thoughtful. [One more thing,] he continued. [Let’s take a look at my parents.]
[ I can see your father. And talking with Issie’s helped me track fetches. There’s your mother!]
[Get rid of everyone else.]
An entire population shimmered into nothing, leaving only a single red pixel right next to a single blue one, in a distant street rolling up behind the Spine.
[ They must be in bed.]
Jack remembered childhood nights, and the deep security of knowing that his parents were asleep in the next room. The knowledge of their closeness was always a ward against the small difficulties of a Docklands child’s life.
[Can we look at them?]
He was surprised at how quiet his voice was.
[Oh yes,] piped Fist. [And perhaps there’ll be some action! That’ll make up for last night.]
[ Fucking hell, Fist,] sighed Jack. [ If that’s what they’re doing, we’ll let them be. Now, how to see them?]
[Spoilsport,] replied Fist. [And, let’s see. A camera nest’s the best way, they’re all over the place. It’ll be quite risky though – they run on Rosecode, she’s tough.]
[ If Harry can hack camera nests, I’m sure you can.]
[ That sleazy fuck. We’ll have to be quick.]
Fist closed his eyes and threw his mind out into the weave, searching for a lens to bring Jack’s parents into focus. Jack stared up at the two dots, lost in sadness at his distance from them.
[Got it!]
A square of light flashed into being, resolving into a street of brightly coloured plastic boxes. It was like looking directly into a memory.
[ The camera nest’s got droneflies mounted on it. Just snagging one …]
The view in the window changed as the dronefly lifted up and moved down the street to hang outside an upstairs window. The curtains were drawn, but the window was open. Fist steered it into the bedroom. There was a single figure, asleep on one side of a double bed.
[ I’ll just drop your mother in.]
[Doesn’t my dad have to reset her permissions?]
[ Issie showed me a temporary hack.]
Suddenly there were two shapes there.
[Audio.]
His father was snoring. Nostalgia shook Jack. He so wanted to step into the image and find himself back in childhood.