[Maybe it could do some damage, at that.]
And so they walked into TrueShield as if they were guests. The sprite took them down a long corridor. There were ancient trees where the walls should have been. Doors opened between them, leading into small work suites. Once the sprite gestured them into an office, then closed the door behind them. Footsteps passed by. When the passage was silent again, it led them back out.
‘I have kept you safe, kind sirs!’
The corridor ended and they stepped into a large atrium, open to the darkness of the night. Then reality began to change. As they walked towards the atrium’s centre, a forest grew up around them. It was far more ancient than the one they’d encountered in Violin Fields. Mist curled around moss-shrouded trees, all snarled in on themselves like arthritic hands. It lent the darkness between the trees an almost physical quality, turning it into a thick, stodgy murk. There were standing stones, too – archaic shapes rearing grey in the gloom. Some stood alone. Others were piled up to make arches. All hinted at lost peoples, forgotten rites and hidden meanings.
[ This is purest essence of bullshit,] said Fist.
[ It’s branding. It’s meant to represent the company and the dangerous world of hidden hazards it can guide us through.]
[Gods. I want to cut my own strings. Where did you learn to talk such nonsense?]
[ I dated an advertising executive. She showed me how to read this kind of thing.]
The path the sprite was leading them down did, in fact, feel very safe indeed, when compared to the deep forest. It was paved with grey stone blocks that cut through the gloom with confident certainty. The sprite turned to look back at them. ‘If you follow the TrueShield path,’ it announced, ‘you’re always safe.’
‘How much further?’ Jack asked it.
‘A few minutes.’
[ There can’t have been a forest like this for centuries,] said Fist.
[ There’s never been anywhere like this.]
[ Really?]
[ This is just a dream. Like Violin Fields. Like the whole of Homelands.]
[ I thought you loved it here, Jack.]
[ Not any more. I’ve been away too long and I’ve seen too much. The Totality, everyone who’s with them – I never knew it before, but they’ve made the void their own. Not like us.] He gestured around him. [ We’ve built a home from dreams and called it memory. Then we try and live in those memories and call that life. But it’s just nostalgia.]
[ That’s very philosophical, Jack.]
[ What do you see when you look at it all?]
[Patterns waiting to be broken.]
[ Is that all we are to you?]
[ That’s all this is.]
They walked on in silence. Then Fist was hovering by Jack. He put his hand on Jack’s shoulder and spoke. His voice was carefully neutral. [ I’ll be breaking your pattern soon. I thought I’d enjoy it.] Jack stopped walking. For a moment he wasn’t sure what to say. [ I’m sorry,] Fist told him.
Jack was both moved and astonished. He was silent for a moment, then said in a soft voice: [ We don’t have a choice. We’ve just got to make the best of it.]
The Sprite turned back and saw that they’d stopped. ‘Tarry not, good gentles!’ it squeaked. ‘We near our destination.’
[One more word out of that jumped-up mosquito …]
[ Fist!]
The path led through an arch in the trees.
‘Behold! The object of your quest. My task is done.’
The sprite melted away.
[Kill this virtual bollocks?] asked Fist.
[Do it.]
The forest vanished. Hard neon illumination replaced gloomy sylvan dusk, hurting Jack’s eyes. Everything was white – the floor, the ceiling, the walls, the server stacks that stood in henges all around them. Technology hummed and air conditioning whined.
[ Fuck yes,] breathed Fist. [ Beautiful, just beautiful.]
[ How long till you’re in?]
Fist pattered over to one of the server stacks. His fingertips sunk into its white plastic body. Jack felt a light tug on his consciousness as Fist drew on deep resources.
[ We’ll see. Not too long. Want to watch?]
The room shimmered around Jack. The servers became patterns of figures representing buried worlds of data. Some were static, others flickered in constant motion. Jack remembered his accountancy days. He’d spent weeks drifting through accounts, carving clear and final financial snapshots from confusing, tangled corporate structures. [ Takes me back,] he said. He stretched a hand out to touch a nearby server.
[ Whoah!] yelled Fist. [ You don’t go near them. You’ll set off alarms all over the place.]
Jack pulled his hand back, embarrassed. As an auditor, his presence had always been legitimate. Once signed into corporate databanks he’d never had to worry about triggering security.
[Drop me out, Fist. I’ll keep watch.] The white room reasserted itself.
Fist was still at the same server. [Getting stuck in, Jack!] he said, then stepped into it as if he were walking through an open door. [Digging around,] he continued. His voice sounded muffled. [ Interesting!]
[ What’s their security like?]
[ Hardly there, compared to Totality ice.]
[ You’re not missing anything?]
[ Jack, please. I know what I’m doing.]
[ You missed something important in reception.]
[And was that a problem? Besides, this is much more interesting than hacking a diary. Right, got to concentrate.]
[Don’t screw up.]
There was no reply. Jack sat down on the floor, leant back against the wall, and waited.
[Aha!] said Fist, after a while. He sounded far away. [ I’m in! Even easier than I thought it would be.] There was a pause.
[ What can you see?] asked Jack.
[ Files.] Fist’s voice echoed lightly, as if he was standing in a vast, empty space. [Lots of files.]
[Get digging.]
[ I’m firing up some of your old Greyware. The corporate analysis stuff.] Jack felt another tug in his mind. Semi-archived systems unpacked themselves and groaned into life.
[Seven years old, verrrry old school! Want me to pull down the updates?]
Jack was getting nervous. [ We don’t have time for that. Just get stuck in. Look for Pantheon traces, anything flagged Yamata …]
[A-OK.]
Fist’s voice was coming from even further away. He was deep in TrueShield’s virtual self. Jack felt a moment’s dizziness as the Greyware drew resource from his consciousness. In the distance, Fist started singing.
[ Take this seriously,] hissed Jack.
[ It helps me concentrate,] said Fist dismissively. [Digging hard. Oo, what’s that? It’s hiding from me.]
[ You’ve found something? Already?]
[ I’m not sure. I’m just coaxing it out.] A moment’s silence. [ Now I can see it! What the fuck? It can’t be.]
[Don’t get distracted.] Fist didn’t reply. [ Fist?] Little grunts reached Jack. Fist seemed to be working hard at something. Something rustled. Jack thought of the unreal leaves of Violin Gardens.
[ It goes up and up and up …]
Fist’s voice was coming from somewhere above Jack.
[ Be careful. It could be dangerous.]
[ …all the way past the moon.]
[Show me!]
The ceiling lights flickered out of existence. Jack was looking up into a dark sky. There was a pale, buttery moon and a scattering of stars. A beanstalk reached up towards them, shimmering with golden light. Fist was pulling himself up it, hand over hand.
[More branding,] Fist explained. [ You should have spared yourself.]
[ What are you climbing?] asked Jack.
[A Pantheon hardlink,] Fist replied proudly. [Straight to whoever’s behind Yamata.]
[Come down, now. Deep security!]
[ Nothing I can’t deal with,] breezed Fist. [ Besides, what better way of finding out which giant we’ve got to kill than climbing up their beanstalk?]