The Orb Page 5

  A couple of hours later, back in her cluttered office that smelled faintly of prawn dim sum, she noticed two other things immediately: the badly wrapped package sitting on her desk and her war senses screaming in warning. Too bad she’d not hardened her delicate new body for combat. Her defensive crouch, spin and final strike were weak and unconvincing. The dark figures in the shadows easily dodged her counter. One held her down, while another stabbed her in the neck.

  As Zip slipped into the tar pool, she promised herself she’d get her new body properly trained up if she ever resurfaced.

  Chapter Four – Mathew

  Peter sat near the top of his house. He ignored the rare view of woods and wild fields through the streaming rain running down the glass walls. Instead, he stared at his hands in his lap that twisted and turned like angry Greco-Roman wrestlers. Where was Zip? She hadn’t just disappeared; his investigator had been disconnected. There had been no Net trace of her since she’d visited Mathew. He was going a little crazy. Zip was a trashy abomination, but the strange girl-woman had given him some hope. Should he find someone else? What would Kiki want him to do? He desperately wanted to ask, but her time was precious; maybe he should wait a little longer.

  A priority VR call from Orb Industries was an unexpected and ugly intrusion. Peter reluctantly accepted the meeting request, knowing he didn’t really have any choice.

  The VR setting was unbearable. As the environment formed around him, Peter cried out and buried his head in his hands.

  The Suit fluttered anxiously, “Are you alright, Peter? Is it acrophobia?”

  Peter didn’t reply; he just buried his head deeper under his folded arms and moaned.

  “Wait a moment. There, the live feed has been disabled. You can open your eyes, Peter.”

  Peter squinted nervously through his laced fingers and exhaled loudly. Thankfully, the floor was now an ordinary floor and not completely transparent. Peter looked up. Overhead was a vaulted glass ceiling, and above that, dark clouds were unburdening themselves. A torrent of watery bullets smashed into the ceiling, each shattering into a myriad of smaller pieces of liquid shrapnel. The splinters arced upwards and fell back to create a sizzling chaos. It was as if the water was boiling.

  Peter stumbled towards a seat and fell into it, still breathless, his hands shaking from the shock of the momentary view through the floor before he’d snapped his eyes shut.

  “Sorry.”

  “The Orb?”

  “I have a phobia.”

  “I apologise. I didn’t know.”

  The empty Suit lowered itself into a seat close to Peter. There were dozens of comfortable chairs scattered across the otherwise empty space. Peter couldn’t help staring at the Suit. It sat on the seat as though it were occupied by an invisible man and moved like it was being gently caressed by a private breeze. The cloth deformed and reformed, swaying rhythmically to a silent beat.

  “Has something happened?” he said.

  “You do realise that access to a live VR feed of the Orb is an exceptional privilege?” said the Suit, ignoring him. “Obviously, your Recording is blocked, just like a real pilgrimage. If anyone could see a VR Orb, why bother visiting it? Anyway, we wanted to honour your achievements.”

  Was the Orb executive playing with him?

  “Thank you, but there’s still a long way to go. What exactly did you want? I’m rather busy.”

  “Are you sure you wouldn’t like to see the VR view from the roof of the Cuboid? It’s quite unique and simply amazing. The Orb looks like an enormous sapphire set in a sea of Pilgrim flesh.”

  “Thank you, but I’d find it very distressing. Can you just tell me what you want?” The floating Suit was as impossible to read as it had always been. He had never known who he’d been talking to, other than a representative of Orb Industries, and judging by today’s setting, it was a senior executive.

  “Down to business then. We know you’ve been lying. You’ve had the system working for a while. Is using your daughter’s Record memories entirely ethical?”

  Peter’s mouth filled with cotton wool and his heart smacked against his ribs. Swallowing, he managed to whisper, “How?”

  “You’re using our security, Peter.”

  “Please, you can’t stop my research. Not now. It’s not stable. I need more time.”

  “Really? K4 – or is it Quattro? – is a triumph. The previous version, K3, was almost good enough. It’s probably best we don’t talk about the first two attempts.”

  His thoughts jumped between the possible places this conversation was heading without alighting on anything he could grab hold of. Peter started to feel sick. They’d take Kiki away; he’d never find out what happened. He had to know. “Did you have Kiki killed? To punish me?”

  The anonymous Suit danced in its invisible current, its voice calm and reasonable. “If we’d known the result was going to be Quattro, then others might have been tempted. But no, we didn’t have your daughter killed. I tend to agree with that weird Zip woman: Kiki probably did kill herself. Look at the evidence of the Ks. She had issues, Peter.”

  Peter growled in frustration and balled his fists.

  The Suit sat lightly in a chair, cloth legs casually crossed, as though it hadn’t even noticed Peter’s rage. “You’ve always known your technology is designed for a very specific one-time application. After that, it must be destroyed. AI is too dangerous.”

  “What application? You’ve never told me what you’re planning to do with it.”

  “All in good time, Peter. Meanwhile, the work in your basement must be transferred to an even more secure location.”

  “When? What about Quattro? What will happen to her?”

  “Peter, I’m sympathetic. We’re not heartless. We appreciate what you’ve done. You can keep K4 or Quattro, or whatever it calls itself, until the new facility is ready. We must move quickly. The Church is growing suspicious. War is coming unless we act to stop it.”

  “I can keep Quattro? Till … she’s gone?”

  “For now, Peter. I must go. We’ll be in touch when everything is ready.”

  “How long do I have? Wait …”

  Peter was back home, sitting and staring at the rain again, unable to decide if he should be relieved or in despair. For a time, he just stared at the little rivers running down the wall of glass, not seeing the greenery beyond, only the meaningless race of the droplets. After a while, he turned away. With Zip gone, he could try and find someone else, but it probably wouldn’t make any difference. He’d failed, he was tired and his stomach hurt all the time. Maybe Kiki had killed herself; everyone seemed to think so. And it was probably his fault. He should have seen the signs. He’d missed them all. It was like her mother all over again. He’d been obsessed with his work and then the simulation experiment. It never occurred to him that the simulation’s psychosis was anything to do with the real Kiki. He’d assumed it was a systems’ error. Stupid, stupid man.

  Knowing it wouldn’t help, but unable to stop himself, Peter called up a memory of a happier time from the house security system. It was a piece from shortly after they’d moved in. Kiki was only seven. They were all home, together. Peter’s wife had dragged him away from his work and out into the garden where lunch was laid out. It was a beautiful day, a rare happy day. Kiki was running in circles, sometimes chasing, mostly being chased by Tails, her new puppy. His daughter was laughing hysterically as the clumsy little dog tried to keep up before getting tangled with Kiki’s legs, sending them both sprawling. She was up and off on another circuit before Peter even had time to worry if she’d been hurt. Melisa, Kiki’s mother, was laughing. She turned to Peter and handed him a glass of sparkling wine. They both smiled. Everything was perfect.

  Peter groaned and slapped his face with both hands, hard. He couldn’t see that and not remember what happened only a few years later. His wife had started behaving oddly, furtively. Peter knew she was hiding something. The security system uncovered her secret. The ima
ges were hard to take. His wife had betrayed him in the worst possible way. Melisa was praying to the Orb. She had converted and become a Pilgrim.

  He had her deprogrammed, for her own good. Kiki thought her mother was travelling, then he told her Melisa was sick. After a year, Melisa came home. Peter believed she was happy, cured; that was until Kiki found her mother hanging by the neck from a tree in the garden.

  Enough. The only thing left was to ask Quattro what she wanted to do. At any time, Orb Industries could turn her off forever.

  Peter took a moment to wash his face and then made his way slowly down to the basement. He tried to be positive before lying down on the VR couch.

  Quattro emerged from the shadows, still barefoot and wearing the same simple, blue dress, with her thick black hair tied back in a severe ponytail. Walking slowly and deliberately, Quattro approached Peter. Her skin seemed paler than the last time he’d seen her with Zip, her eyes darker and her body more delicate, as if she might shatter if he clapped his hands.

  “I’m sorry I’ve been away so long. How are you?” Peter whispered, afraid that any loud noise might frighten her.

  “You haven’t, not for me. It’s been a blink of an eye.”

  Peter didn’t want to discuss Quattro’s perception of time. “Are you alright?”

  “Why do you do that? Switch me off like a light bulb. It kills me.”

  Peter shook his head. “No, no. It’s to protect you. We have so little time. Please. It’s complicated.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “We’re not stupid, Peter. The Whisperer told me that I can’t sleep. Is that right?”

  Disturbed by her hard-faced, accusing gaze, Peter turned away. How could she possibly know that? He couldn’t look at her. “The system can’t simulate sleep. Maybe, in time, I can fix it. I’m very sorry.”

  “Without sleep I’ll eventually go crazy. How long do I have?”

  “That’s not true.”

  Moving to stand directly in front of Peter, Quattro folded her arms and gave him a pitying look. “My sisters’ ghosts and the Whisperer are still in the machine, here with me. They tell me things, Peter, so don’t bother lying. Do I have longer than K3 before it begins?”

  Peter reached out and tried to take Quattro’s hand. She snatched it away. Quattro might as well have spat at him. He groaned out loud. It was already starting, the madness, imagining ghosts, and it was happening faster than K3. That didn’t make any sense.

  “You’re fine. There are no ghosts. It’s some kind of data echo. Like déjà vu. I’ll fix it.” Peter extended his arms to embrace Quattro.

  Quattro took a step back, out of Peter’s reach. “You don’t listen, do you, Peter? To me, Kiki, your wife, Melisa. And you wonder why we surprise you.”

  Diagnostics, he needed to run diagnostics. She wasn’t thinking right. He had to help her, fix her, make it better. Peter’s desperate search for answers was interrupted by Quattro.

  “I want to talk to Zip. Call her,” Quattro ordered, then vanished.

  For a second, he couldn’t understand what had happened. He was back in the real basement; Quattro had terminated the simulation. That shouldn’t be possible.

  It was some time before he could get up off the old couch and longer to calm down enough to initiate the diagnostics. It would take a while. He needed a drink. Peter made his way to the top of the house. His hands shaking, he poured himself a large sloppy gin and a foaming tonic. The foam escaped the top of the tall glass and pooled on the hard surface of the bar. Gripping the glass in both hands, he collapsed in a chair, spilling more. Peter gulped and swallowed, gulped and swallowed, till the glass was empty. Getting back up, he fixed himself another, his hands steadier. Quattro didn’t know what she was saying. She didn’t mean it. He was trying to help; why was she being so nasty to him? He couldn’t get her accusations out of his head. Where was that damn detective? Maybe Zip could calm Quattro down.

  The flicker in his eyelid made him jump. Finally, Zip. But no, it wasn’t Zip. The filters said it was a relevant call. Peter declined the VR invitation and accepted audio only.

  “Peter, thank you for taking my call. I am a criminal lawyer. A few days ago, I spoke to your representative, Zip, but I’ve been unable to contact her since. I wondered if she’d discussed my proposal with you?”

  Peter listened while the trace and background analysis brought up more of the caller’s details. Much of it was cloaked, but he was Mathew’s lawyer and a class-one criminal advocate.

  “What proposal? I haven’t heard from Zip since she went to visit your client.”

  The lawyer repeated what he had told Zip. Peter choked on the idea. For a moment, he couldn’t speak. His outrage trumped his shock. “You really expect me to deal with this … monster? He killed my daughter, decapitated her.”

  “I understand, Peter, but he wants to help you find the real killer, the person who hired him. He doesn’t believe it was Kiki. As far as I’m aware, he’s the only one who doesn’t think it was your daughter.”

  “He’d say anything to get out. Why would I trust him?”

  “As I’ve explained, Peter, he can’t escape his punishment. He’d help you as an avatar and under strict conditions. Mathew is very focussed on finding out who contracted him. He firmly believes that person betrayed him to the authorities.”

  Peter shook his head. Kiki’s murderer offering to help him? It was crazy, wrong. “Anyway, it’s not possible. You said Zip was key and the damn woman is disconnected.”

  “She’s under contract, and you’ve assigned her your victim’s rights. In relation to investigating Kiki’s death, you have her powers just as Zip has yours. It’ll be more complicated, but we can proceed if you’ll give me brainwave approval and authorise Zip’s role in her absence.”

  “I need to think,” Peter whispered, ending the call without waiting for the lawyer to respond.

  With another large drink clutched in both hands, Peter tried to clear his mind; what was he going to do? An alert signalled that the diagnostics had run clean. Quattro seemed fine; there was no detectable cognitive decay. If Quattro was well, she was the only one who could decide.

  Quattro was waiting for Peter when he returned to the basement VR. She looked the same, except her hair was hanging loose.

  “Where’s Zip?”

  “Disappeared. There’s something else. I’ve been contacted by the killer’s lawyer,” Peter said, and went on to explain the proposition. “What do you think?”

  “I want to talk to him. And look for Zip properly. Release the dogs.”

  “But he killed you.”

  Quattro clapped her hands to her ears and howled.

  “Sorry, her. He killed her – Kiki.”

  Quattro let her hands drop to her side and bowed her head, letting her hair fall over her face. “You’re killing me. Get Mathew. Find Zip. Now!” Quattro didn’t bother to look up before vanishing.

  Peter’s head was spinning from the day’s shocks. He’d drunk too much and eaten too little. It was all catching up with him. If he got up from the daybed now, he was going to faint. Peter closed his eyes and tried to rest. A moment later, he was sitting bolt upright.

  How did Quattro know about the dogs?

  Peter waited anxiously for Kiki’s killer to join the basement VR. It had taken only a few hours to organise after giving his consent. Mathew’s lawyer was good.

  Peter had taken every precaution. The link to the Thermal Mines prison would be hyper-secure and completely isolated from the Net.

  The air shimmered, became dense and formed a machine. Its liquid-metal skin reflected the surrounding basement and a startled Peter. It was not what he’d been expecting. A strange mechanical, like nothing he’d ever seen, had appeared in the centre of the room. It was a couple of metres tall, humanoid, long-limbed, smooth-skinned, unclothed and almost featureless. There were shallow indentations where the eyes should be. A snub nose without nostrils. Under the nose, the reflective skin was unbroken. There was no
mouth. The body had nominal undulations suggesting the major muscle groups, but its groin was sexless. It was as though a human mannequin had been clothed in reflective metal latex, turning it into an immobile work of abstract art.

  Peter looked over the strange creature for a few moments before speaking. “Mathew?”

  The motionless machine answered in a flat electronic voice emanating vaguely from its head. “Yes. Where’s Zip?”

  Peter was confused. He had braced himself to be repulsed and enraged when Mathew, the mute man he’d first seen at the trial, appeared. This wasn’t that man.

  “Zip’s disconnected. I’ve got custom data dogs looking for her,” Peter replied, still wondering how Quattro knew about his dogs.

  The machine avatar didn’t respond immediately. Its head turned slowly, while the rest of its body remained frozen, and surveyed the room. “Kiki?”

  She must have manifested. Peter turned to look at Quattro. His daughter’s simulacrum had changed. Her skin had more colour, and she was wearing heeled shoes and a high-collared, sleeveless, figure-hugging black dress that barely reached halfway down her naked thighs. Loose, wavy, black hair bounced on her shoulders as she approached. She looked beautiful, almost too attractive. It made Peter feel uncomfortable.

  “That’s Quattro, a very close friend of Kiki’s. We—”

  Quattro didn’t let Peter finish. “He’s lying. I’m a simulation of Kiki. I have all her memories up to the end of August last year. You can call me Quattro.”

  “I’m Mathew.”

  Peter clenched his fists. He was growing increasingly wary of the strange creature. “I don’t understand. What are you?”

  “I don’t know anymore.”

  Quattro laughed. “I know how that feels.”