The bellboy delivered his new clothes with his breakfast; well cut, subtly woven fashions from a small but prestigious Homelands fashion house. They fitted him perfectly. Even Fist was impressed. ‘At last,’ he commented, donning black tie, an opera cape and a top hat, ‘a little sophistication. Now let’s go hunting squishies.’
Chapter 31
As they left the hotel, a porter enquired about the length of Jack’s stay. Fist was unimpressed.
[ Unctuous fuck. I preferred Charlie.]
[ He was a funny man.]
[ He was very lonely.]
Jack was surprised that Fist had seen through Charlie’s façade. Such precise emotional details usually escaped him. [ Fancy moving in with him instead of me?] he asked.
[ Fuck right off!]
Fist picked over the Totality software as their train rattled through the Wart. [ It’s fascinating!] he chirped. [Completely open, I can just walk right into all the source code.]
[Different from Pantheon products.]
[ No licensing, no end date. Maybe there is a point to them after all.]
[So what does it do?]
[Minds are all connected all the time. Even when a bit of one’s dormant, it pings for any other units around it. The software sweeps for those signals. But they need to be pretty close for it to work.]
Jack had to change trains at Vitality Junction. InSec were waiting for him. Operatives pulled him out of the carriage. ‘Lestak wants to see you,’ one of them said, hustling Jack down the platform.
She was furious. ‘What the hell do you think you’re playing at?’ she raged.
‘I’m doing something useful for people who deserve help.’
‘They’re not people, they’re an operating system with ambitions. And you’re ignoring my direct warning. I told you to step back.’
‘I’m here under a diplomatic licence, as specified in the initial Pantheon/Totality peace treaty. I’m outside your jurisdiction.’
‘So you’re a lawyer now?’
‘You can’t stop me.’
‘You have no right to be in Homelands. At best you’ll get in the way, at worst you’ll cause chaos. Lethal chaos.’
‘I’m here to look for mind fragments on behalf of the Totality. That’s it.’
‘Then you’d better make damn sure you stick within the terms of your licence. If you take just one step over the line I’ll have you in a Turing cage in an InSec cellblock faster than you can take your next breath. And if that puppet of yours comes out to play I’ll have you in a coma until it takes over, and as far beyond as I can possibly manage.’
‘Let’s be very clear, Lestak. There’s no way that you’ll catch me stepping out of line.’
Another train neared the station.
‘For gods’ sake. Get out of here.’
‘With pleasure.’
A few minutes later, Jack and Fist rattled into Violin Gardens. [ It’s residential space leased to mid-level executives,] explained Jack. [People who watch Heaven every day but are never going to get there.]
[Sounds like torture.]
[ I was one of them once. I was happy enough.]
Violin Gardens was circular. A thousand windows reflected light into the complex’s central garden space. Streams and little waterfalls danced between spiked brown metal shapes that were simplified representations of trees. They were rammed into areas of patchy grass like stubbed-out cigars.
[ How far onweave do you want to be, Jack?]
[Same as everyone else.]
Brown metal became deep-textured bark. Leaves sprang out of branches. A beautiful lawn bloomed from the scrubby grass, striped pale then darker green where an imaginary lawnmower had moved up and down. Birds flashed red and purple between the trees. Their songs mingled with the susurrus of the streams and the soft, rich sighing of a thousand violins.
[So that’s where it got the name.]
[Apparently the classical music stops teenagers from hanging out.]
[ Typical Pantheon, even the art’s there to control you.]
There were a few people wandering through the gardens. Some walked arm in arm. Others lay on the soft turf, staring up at the Spine. The gods returned their gaze. Their Homelands incarnations were higher resolution and more imaginatively animated than those that overlooked Docklands. Even Grey’s raven – still chained – was more active, hopping from leg to leg and occasionally trying to scratch itself with its beak.
[East is certainly cute,] said Fist. [ I bet you’d love another upgrade from her.]
[ I never enjoy not being able to choose.]
As Jack spoke, the goddess turned her face towards him. Golden hair billowed up and around her head, sparkling weightlessly in the sunlight.
[ Fuck, Jack, she’s looking right at you.]
[More than looking.]
The goddess winked from on high.
[Shit,] said Jack.
[ That was public,] said Fist. [Everyone will have seen it.]
And indeed everyone was pointing up, then looking around to see who East could have been communing with. A soft sound drifted around Jack, almost lost in the birdsong – the faintest suggestion of a giggle.
[So much for keeping a low profile,] groaned Fist. [ I’m going to end up comatose in an InSec cell!]
[ Nobody knows she was looking at us,] Jack reassured him. He pointed up and looked around, pretending to be as thrilled and puzzled as everyone else.
[ The news channels are just starting to pick it up.]
[Let’s move. She’s just having fun, it’s what she does. Bring up the search pattern, Fist.]
Ifor’s search app dropped a single white line over the estate. It coiled around it, mapping out the most efficient exploration path. As they followed it, Fist monitored the news.
The more celebrity obsessed channels went live to Violin Gardens, talking excitedly with those who’d witnessed East’s wink. People who had no particular relationship with the divinity expressed a guardedly general sense of gratitude. Her more devoted followers gushed about very personal moments of contact. An up-and-coming clothing designer was convinced that East had personally blessed the Chuigushou Mall launch event for her new collection. A middle-aged man described a new relationship. He was now confident that it would endure. A jogger gave thanks for East’s intercession. She was involved with a charity that was having difficulty raising money. Now, she could share its details with a massive media audience.
Jack felt very happy to have left Pantheon worship far behind. The last seven years had at least gifted him atheism. He thought with embarrassment how excited his younger self would have been by East’s visitation.
The search pattern led them on. Trees gathered in clumps around sunlit glades, filled with bright flowers and softly glowing patches of sunlight. Ground level apartment doors were represented by wooden arches. Flutes played, backed by pattering hand drums.
[ How do people live with such crap, Jack?]
[ It’s a dream they want to share.]
[ It’s an advert they want to inhabit. Let’s get rid of this bullshit.]
Glamour vanished. The unwoven apartment doors caught Fist’s eye. [ They’re a bit odd,] he commented. A few were pale bleached wood, matching the soft pastel colour of the block walls. Most were hard unpainted metal. Their uncompromising emphasis on security jarred with the soft tastefulness of the rest of Violin Gardens.
[ What are these people afraid of ?] asked Fist.
[ I don’t know.]
[ I could break us in there. Take a look round, see why these idiots are so paranoid.]
[ We’re keeping our noses clean.]
[ I’ll give them something to be scared of. Rewrite their homes, they come home, open the door – zombie horde attack!]