‘And in all of these things, I have choices to make. Choices of consequence. Bottlebacks in the ocean or not? Coral to scrape myself on and bleed, or not? Blood to bleed with, come to that? These are all matters requiring prior meditation. Full-effect gravity in the mountains? If I fall, will I allow it to kill me? And what will I allow that to mean?’ He looked at his hands as if they too were a choice of some sort. ‘If I break or tear something, will I allow it to hurt? If so, for how long? How long will I wait to heal? Will I allow myself to remember the pain properly afterwards? And then, from these questions, the secondary – some would say the primary – issues raise their heads from the swamp. Why am I really doing this? Do I want the pain? Why would that be? Do I want to fall? Why would that be? Does it matter to me to reach the top or simply to suffer on the way up? Who am I doing these things for? Who was I ever doing them for? Myself? My father? Lara, perhaps?’
He smiled out at the filigree poppies. ‘What do you think, Jack? Is it because of Lara?’
‘That wasn’t your fault, Nik.’
The smile went away. ‘In here, I study the only thing that scares me any more. Myself. And in that process, I harm no one else.’
‘And help no one else,’ I pointed out.
‘Yes. Axiomatic.’ He looked round at me. ‘Are you a revolutionary too, then? One of the neoQuellist faithful?’
‘Not as such.’
‘But you have little sympathy with Renouncing?’
I shrugged. ‘It’s harmless. As you say. And no one has to play who doesn’t want to. But you kind of assume the rest of us are going to provide the powered infrastructure for your way of life. Seems to me that’s a basic failure in Renouncing, all on its own.’
I got the smile back for that. ‘Yes, that is something of a test of faith for many of us. Of course, ultimately we believe all of humanity will follow us into virtual. We are merely preparing the way. Learning the path, you might say.’
‘Yeah,’ snapped Brasil. ‘And meanwhile, outside the world falls apart on the rest of us.’
‘It was always falling apart, Jack. Do you really think what I used to do out there, the little thefts and defiances, do you really think all that made any difference?’
‘We’re taking a team into Rila,’ said Brasil abruptly, decided. ‘That’s the difference we’re going to make, Nik. Right there.’
I cleared my throat. ‘With your help.’
‘Ah.’
‘Yeah, we need the route, Nik.’ Brasil got up and wandered off into a corner of the quadrangle, raising his voice as if, now the secret was out, he wanted even the volume of conversation to reflect his decision. ‘You feel like giving it to us? Say, for old times’ sake?’
Natsume got up and regarded me quizzically.
‘Have you climbed a sea cliff before?’
‘Not really. But the sleeve I’m wearing knows how to do it.’
For a moment he held my eye. It was as if he was processing what I’d just said and it wouldn’t load. Then, suddenly, he barked a laugh that didn’t belong inside the man we’d been talking to.
‘Your sleeve knows how?’ The laughter shook out to a more governed chuckling and then a hard-eyed gravity. ‘You’ll need more than that. You do know there are ripwing colonies on the top third of Rila Crags? Probably more now than there ever were when I went up. You do know there’s an overhanging flange that runs all the way round the lower battlements, and the Buddha alone knows how much updated anti-intrusion tech they’ve built into it since I climbed it. You do know the currents at the base of Rila will carry your broken body halfway up the Reach before they drop you anywhere.’
‘Well,’ I shrugged. ‘At least if I fall, I won’t get picked up for interrogation.’
Natsume glanced across at Brasil.
‘How old is he?’
‘Leave him alone, Nik. He’s wearing Eishundo custom, which he found, he tells me, whilst wandering around New Hokkaido killing mimints for a living. You do know what a mimint is, don’t you?’
‘Yes.’ Natsume was still looking at me. ‘We’ve heard the news about Mecsek in here.’
‘It’s not exactly news these days, Nik,’ Brasil told him, with evident glee.
‘You’re really wearing Eishundo?’
I nodded.
‘You know what that’s worth?’
‘I’ve had it demonstrated to me a couple of times, yeah.’
Brasil shifted impatiently on the stonework of the quadrangle. ‘Look, Nik, are you going to give us this route or not? Or are you just worried we’re going to beat your record?’
‘You’re going to get yourselves killed, stacks irretrievable, both of you. Why should I help you to do that?’
‘Hey, Nik – you’ve renounced the world and the flesh, remember. Why should how we end up in the real world bother you in here?’
‘It bothers me that you’re both fucking insane, Jack.’
Brasil grinned, maybe at the obscenity he’d finally managed to elicit from his former hero. ‘Yeah, but at least we’re still in the game. And you know we’re going to do this anyway, with or without your help. So—’
‘Alright.’ Natsume held up his hands. ‘Yes, you can have it. Right now. I’ll even talk you through it. For all the good it’ll do you. Yeah, go on. Go and die on Rila Crags. Maybe that’ll be real enough for you.’
Brasil just shrugged and grinned again.
‘What’s the matter, Nik? You jealous or something?’
Natsume led us up through the monastery to a sparsely furnished suite of wood-floored rooms on the third floor, where he drew images in the air with his hands and conjured the Rila climb for us. Partly it was drawn direct from his memory as it now existed in the virtuality’s coding, but the data functions of the monastery allowed him to check the mapping against an objective real-time construct of Rila. His predictions turned out to be on the nail – the ripwing colonies had spread and the battlement flange had been modified, though the monastery’s datastack could offer no more than visual confirmation of this last. There was no way to tell what else was up there waiting for us.
‘But the bad news cuts both ways,’ he said, an animation in his voice that hadn’t been there before he started sketching the route. ‘That flange gets in their way as well. They can’t see down clearly, and the sensors get confused with the ripwing movement.’
I glanced at Brasil. No point in telling Natsume what he didn’t need to know – that the Crags’ sensor net was the least of our worries.
‘Over in New Kanagawa,’ I said instead, ‘I heard they’re wiring ripwings with microcam systems. Training them too. Any truth in that?’
He snorted.
‘Yeah, they were saying the same thing a hundred and fifty years ago. It was paranoid crabshit then, and I guess it still is now. What’s the point of a microcam in a ripwing? They never go near human habitation if they can avoid it. And from what I recall of the studies done, they don’t domesticate or train easily. Plus more than likely the orbitals would spot the wiring and shoot them down on the wing.’ He gave me an unpleasant grin, not one from the Renouncer monk serenity suite. ‘Believe me, you’ve got quite enough to worry about climbing through a colony of wild ripwings, never mind some sort of domesticated cyborg variety.’
‘Right. Thanks. Any other helpful tips?’
He shrugged. ‘Yeah. Don’t fall off.’
But there was a look in his eyes that belied the laconic detachment he affected and later, as he uploaded the data for outside collection, he was quiet in a tightened way that had none of his previous monkish calm to it. When he led us back down through the monastery, he didn’t speak at all. Brasil’s visit had ruffled him like spring breezes coming in across the carp lakes in Danchi. Now, beneath the rippled surface, powerful forms flexed restlessly back and forth. When we reached the entrance hall, he turned to Brasil and started speaking, awkwardly.