The Chaos Chronicles Page 8

  /// Were you serious about watching TV?

  I don't think we can afford the time— ///

  /I was most certainly not serious. Look Charlie—if you don't mind, I'd like to cut the crap here and start understanding what's happening to my life./

  /// I think that's wise. ///

  Bandicut nodded and stopped to peer out one of the corridor windows, with a view toward the main surface mining area. A cloud of vapor was rising from beyond the intervening building structures; the lasers were back in operation, burning away ices and rock in search of embedded metals. The metals of a civilization from another star system, another eon . . . a civilization destroyed by war. The images that the quarx had shared with him rose again in his mind. It occurred to him that he was the only human being alive who knew the actual source and history of those metals.

  He felt a sudden, deep sadness in his heart, and realized that Charlie was also seeing those images again, and grieving for what had been. /I'm sorry, Charlie./

  The quarx stirred uneasily, and changed the subject.

  /// I guess I still have some things

  to explain to you. ///

  /I haven't forgotten. But your "mission" isn't the only thing I have to think about. I need to go check the system boards and see what sort of reassignment they've given me. Just because I've been given a mission to save the Earth doesn't mean I don't still have a job to do here. Unless you decide our mission is urgent enough to let me talk . . ./

  The quarx spoke up hastily.

  /// No.

  We can always go public, if the situation warrants.

  But we can't then go unpublic,

  if you follow. ///

  /Yes, well . . ./ Bandicut turned to continue down the corridor.

  "John!" he heard, from behind him. It was a woman's voice. He turned and saw Georgia Patwell from ops coming his way with a relaxed, loping, long-legged stride that seemed to fit perfectly with the low gravity. She was accompanied by another woman, about six inches shorter, who was moving with a more energetic gait. Bandicut recognized the other woman from the exoarchaeology group down in the basement.

  "Hi," he said, hoping he wouldn't be asked one more time what he'd done wrong.

  "Bandie, I thought you were going to give Stelnik hives today, when you dropped out of contact," Georgia said, gliding to a stop with a grin. "I know I shouldn't, but I have to give you credit. That was great."

  "Uh—thanks."

  "You're all right, though, aren't you?" She suddenly looked concerned. "I read your report. I don't know where everyone else is getting their ideas, but it sounds as if they're trying to elect you sacrificial lamb of the week."

  "I, uh—"

  "You know my friend, don't you?" Georgia turned slightly to include the other woman in the conversation. "Julie Stone, from exoarch? John Bandicut, survey ops?"

  Bandicut gulped and nodded, trying to smile. "I, uh—yes, I think we've met—"

  Julie offered a hand to shake. "In the rec area. I've seen you playing EineySteiney, but I don't think we've been introduced." Her face flashed with a quick smile, then became inscrutable. She was pretty, Bandicut thought, with short brown hair and blue eyes; and she was probably thinking to herself, so this is the goak who fried his neuros, and then fried a rover for good measure and held up half the station's operations for a couple of hours. Good one to stay away from, she was probably thinking.

  He felt a sudden temptation to introduce Charlie to the two women, then felt his face flush as he realized he was still shaking her hand. "Nice to meet you," he croaked, letting go.

  "I guess you had kind of a tough day," Julie offered. "Georgia was just telling me about it."

  Great, Bandicut groaned inwardly. He took a breath and nodded. "It wasn't . . . one of my better days. I was just on my way to . . . see where I've been reassigned."

  "Well, good luck," said Julie.

  "Hang in there, Bandie," Georgia said, patting him on the arm as she continued on her way with Julie.

  Thanks, Bandicut whispered silently. He sighed and followed the women, but slowly, allowing them to disappear through the bulkhead doors ahead of him.

  /// You seemed rather

  ill at ease with those women, ///

  the quarx noted.

  Bandicut shrugged. /Not with Georgia. She's easy to be friends with. She's married, of course, which is probably why. No threat, you know. But the other one—/ He hesitated.

  /// Julie?

  Didn't she fit your idea of . . .

  friendliness? ///

  /Uh-huh. That's why I was . . . well. I always expect the worst, somehow, when I meet a woman I like. I always figure something will go wrong, that they'll wind up . . . not . . . I don't know why./

  /// Hm. ///

  /What do you mean, "Hm"? You aren't going to start psychoanalyzing me, are you?/

  /// Well, no, but . . . I just wondered . . .

  is this the way you always relate

  to women? ///

  Bandicut stopped at another window and pressed his fingers to the supertherm glass. Just on the other side of that pane was a rarefied atmosphere at a temperature much closer to absolute zero than to the temperature inside which was keeping him alive. Sometimes it was a distraction to think about things like that, but right now he found that it focused his thoughts remarkably. /I don't really have many relationships with women, Charlie, except for a few . . . friends . . . like Georgia./

  The quarx was silent for a moment.

  /// Didn't I glimpse

  something about a . . . niece? ///

  /Dakota? Well, yes—she was orphaned when the rest of my family was killed in the Chunnel. But Charlie, she's just a girl, plus she's related. That's hardly the same thing./

  /// But you're

  sending her some of your earnings? ///

  Bandicut shrugged. /Big deal. I couldn't let her depend on my sister-in-law's family, could I?/

  /// Um . . . ///

  /She's a nice kid, Dakota. I want her to have a chance when she gets older./ Bandicut turned away from the window with a sigh. /I gotta go see where I'm posted for work tomorrow. Want to come?/ He started back down the corridor, passing several people and not meeting their eyes.

  /// Ho ho.

  John, I have an idea.

  Is there anything you have to be doing

  right now? ///

  /Besides checking the postings? I guess not./ He thought of the sleep he was going to need if he was posted to mining work tomorrow. /Except—/

  /// You can sleep later.

  I think you'll like this idea. ///

  /I'm listening./

  /// Good.

  Is there someplace we can go,

  where if you still had your neuro,

  you'd be able to connect to the datanet? ///

  Bandicut walked a little more briskly. /I guess so. Why?/

  /// There's something I'd like to try.

  I might be able to improve

  on what we did a while ago. ///

  /You're going to try to plug me in?/ Bandicut felt his pulse rate increase. /Well—there are the operations centers, but we couldn't just walk in and use them. Anyway, I can't just plug in—or even pretend to—without people noticing. Charlie, everyone knows I lost my neuro!/

  /// Isn't there someplace private? ///

  /I suppose we could use the rec center. That wouldn't give us full datanet access, but we could reach some of the public info services. We could use a booth, and nobody would know if we were connecting direct, or by screen./

  /// Sounds perfect.

  Let's go. ///

  *

  From the smell of the rec center, someone had thrown a party here recently, with liberal amounts of locally fermented, hydroponic-grain beverages. By now, the dep-heads had probably plastered the system board with notices warning against any future such occurrences. Bandicut wrinkled his nose against the stale beer smell and found an empty booth. He didn't give a damn what
management thought, as long as they didn't try to associate him with it.

  /Here we go,/ he said, locking the booth door and sliding into the console seat. /This is where people come when they want to send or receive messages from in-system. They expect people to be looking for privacy here. But we aren't going to get the higher functions./

  /// We'll see. ///

  He raised his eyebrows, but didn't ask what the quarx meant. /How do you want to do this? First I need to check the postings. I can do that from here./ He poked at the screen controls and brought up the newest notices and job listings. He noted that a brief summary of his mishap was posted, with a warning that until an investigation was completed, all rover electrical systems should be regarded as susceptible to possible cryo-failure. /They bought it,/ he muttered in disbelief. He checked the job postings and cursed. He was to report to mining ops for the early shift the next day. /They didn't buy it that much./ With a sigh, he flicked off the screen. He didn't even want to read the newsies of his accident, knowing how much the local amateur newsie reporters took from the rumor mills.

  /What do you want me to do?/ he asked the quarx.

  /// Put the 'trodes on your head. ///

  /Charlie, they took my implants out. There's nothing for the 'trodes to connect to./

  /// Leave that to me. ///

  He reached for the headset and hesitated, hands holding the set in midair. /Are you sure you know what you're doing? If this goes wrong . . ./

  /// It might not work.

  But I don't think there's any danger. ///

  Though he found this less than wholly reassuring, Bandicut positioned the neural set over his temples. The inductance electrodes pressed firmly against the spots on either side where he had once had receptor plates implanted under his skin. The contact made him acutely aware of the emptiness, the lack of what had once felt as important to him as his eyes, or his hands.

  /// Okay, I need to make some adjustments.

  Try to keep your thoughts still. ///

  He tried. He pushed away a fleeting rush of excitement at the thought that the quarx might actually be able to work a miracle here. He thought of the medical labs; he thought of the wrecked buggy; he thought of sleep; he thought of a pink elephant. He thought of how miserable he was going to feel if he got his hopes up for this and then nothing happened.

  /// Hush, John.

  Wait . . . maybe I can help. ///

  He felt something like a warm, soft rain in his mind and felt the thoughts melt away, leaving him relaxed and expectant. The quarx must have done something to give him soothing alpha-wave relaxation. It was blissful.

  There was a brief rush of static, and then he fell off the edge of a cliff into a deep, long, weightless fall . . .

  >

  >>>

  >>>>>>

  >>>>>>>>>>>>

  >>>>>>>>>>>>>——>>>>>>

  >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

  >>>>>>>>>>>>>——>>>>>

  >>>>>>>>>>>>

  >>>>>>

  >>>

  >

  ——

  Lights sparkled around him, like a fishing net encrusted with diamonds, flung against a night sky. Each light burned with possibility, with connectedness and energy. His heart leaped. The linkup was a little rough, but . . . this was precisely what he had been hoping for . . . if it was real.

  Charlie cut in.

  /// It is real.

  Is this the datanet we should be looking for? ///

  /Charlie—this shouldn't be possible! Not without the neuros! How did you do it?/

  /// Oh, it was just

  a matter of making certain cross-connections

  in the neuronal structure— ///

  /You mean, altering my brain?/

  /// Well, no.

  I mean, not—well, no.

  I mean using MY quasi-neuronal capacities

  to bridge the missing elements

  in YOUR neuronal system.

  I merely altered certain characteristics

  of the space-time matrix around your neurons.

  It's basically how

  I talk to you, anyway. ///

  /Ah,/ he thought dizzily. /That was another thing I'd been meaning to ask you about./

  /// Now you know.

  But let's not get bogged down in technical details.

  We have a lot to do,

  now that we're tuned in and turned on,

  as your people like to say. ///

  /I've never said that—/

  /// Fucking figure of speech, okay? ///

  Bandicut blinked, then laughed out loud. /Charlie! You just made a joke! Did you know you just made a joke?/

  /// Ha ha.

  I think we should get busy here.

  I see a lot going on,

  and I think we should explore it.

  Let's tie into some of those glittering bangles

  and see what there is to see.

  Are you with me? ///

  /Where else would I be?/

  A tendril of light leaped out and linked him, sizzling, to one, then two, then three of the pulsing nexi of data.

  Chapter 7

  Datanet

  >> . . . CERES EXCHANGE down 23 points in final trading. Following are highlighted prices (Euroyen): . . . . . Asteroid Aggregate, 75.73 . . . . . . Boeing-Ford Pressure Hulls, 64.94 . . . . . . Ceres-Mars Express, 57.60 . . . >>

  Stock quotes? They were flying by in a blur. Directly above and below it were other streams of data, just as blinding. He blinked his attention back to the quotes:

  >> . . . Sanyo Mining & Extraction, 83.25 . . . . . . Sirtus Astronics, 54.76 . . . . . . SemiOps Systems, 93.44 . . . >>

  He jerked his attention away. What the hell did he care about stock prices? And why would Charlie care?

  The quarx spoke from his accustomed position in the center of Bandicut's consciousness.

  /// I don't know if it's relevant.

  But it is interesting. ///

  One of the other channels was a political digest service. News capsules were streaming past:

  >> . . . Secretary of the New England Nations denied Vatican assertions that recent state-sponsored ordinations of women were intended to subvert the authority of the Papacy. Observers noted significant contradictions, however . . .

  >> . . . third attempt on the life of Renaldo Pelliquez, CEO of the Caribbean Coalition, thwarted when an eleven-year-old street hawker noticed a suspicious vehicle in the central plaza of Ponce, Puerto Rico . . .

  >> . . . New efforts to open North China to world trade received a setback when . . . >>

  He could only snatch a sentence or two at a time; it was like trying to drink from a fire hose. He lurched from the political channel into another, a geyser of musical/video entertainment. It was compressed, accelerated, impossible to track.

  /// Ride with it, John.

  Go with the flow. ///

  /Go with the flow? I can't keep up with this!/

  /// Your baud rate was a little low,

  so I increased it,

  to get as much data as possible. ///

  He tried, but it was impossible to keep up with the flow—or to back away from it. /I can't do it, Charlie! You're drowning me!/

  /// Okay, wait—

  let's try a different perspective . . . ///

  The riptide of data dropped away abruptly, so that he seemed to be looking down over the datastreams from a great height. He gasped for breath. Everything was changed: the data were a topography, a smooth blur of broad brushstrokes, a swirling of smoke, the individual data-points no more visible than the molecules of water in Niagara Falls. It was easier to watch now, but he couldn't quite see the point of it.

  /// Watch this. ///

  He blinked, and it changed again: the viewpoint flicking wider, then wider again. He saw a hundred more channels of fluid movement, on a vast scale, as if he were floating high above a carved and runneled plain, w
atching fluvial motion as the gods might watch it. He was reminded of fractal imagery in which certain geometric qualities persisted even through repeated changes of scale. It was an orchestrated image of turbulence, chaotic beyond his comprehension.

  /// Precisely.

  Fascinating, isn't it? ///

  /Yes, I suppose so—but what good is it? I thought you wanted information about—/ He paused and thought a moment. /Actually, what did you want information about?/

  /// For now, exactly what you're seeing.

  The details are still entrained in the raw data,

  but we don't need them just now. ///

  /We don't? Why not?/

  The quarx coughed delicately.

  /// By "we," actually,

  I meant the translator and I. ///

  Bandicut felt strangely let down. /Oh. You mean, I wouldn't be able to understand it even if you told me?/

  /// I meant no offense, John.

  Remember, we talked about dynamical chaos

  and ways of analyzing it? ///

  Bandicut strained to remember. They'd gotten interrupted, and he hadn't quite been following it to begin with.

  /// Well,

  this information can be translated

  into a harmonic resonance

  that will ultimately,

  through various cycles of analysis,

  move us toward that answer you wanted. ///

  Bandicut remained mute with incomprehension.

  /// About what's going to hit the Earth?

  And what to do about it? ///

  /Ah. That./ Bandicut watched the strange graphical display with an uneasy feeling of disconnectedness. Whatever information was contained in there was going to remain completely incomprehensible, unless Charlie did something to explain it.

  /// John? Are you listening?

  I'm trying to help.

  Do you hear that musical activity? ///

  He listened. In the background there was indeed a deep, thrumming harmonic rhythm, which he supposed could be called music. /Yes./

  /// Well, that's the sound of the turbulence,

  filtered and partially transformed.

  To me, it's still mostly incomprehensible.

  But the translator can actually turn this

  into useful attractor-equations. ///