Ill Wind (Chaos Witches Volume Two) Page 2

  “Domed cities can only be built in special places, like our valley. When I was a girl there were only two cities in Las Joyas. Do you know how many there are now?”

  “Five”

  “No dear, there are four.”

  “It's five! They built five but everyone left one of them. We learned that last year, I told you about it, Mommy!”

  “Fine, but we are going to New Berlyn.”

  “But Techview is the best and the brightest, right?”

  “Shhh. Everyone thinks their home is the best.”

  “But ours really is, isn't it? The first and the brightest jewel in Earth's muddy crown.”

  “Where did you get that?”

  “From a song we learned in school.”

  “Okay, but don't sing it here.”

  “But where is 'here', where is New Berlyn?”

  “I don't know, Sweetie. No one knows.”

  “Someone must know.”

  At that moment, someone stood in the darkness and emerged into the dim light. The mother and daughter looked up in surprise, only to be startled a second time when they saw the figure's face, or lack thereof. It walked by them and out into the aisle.

  After a minute, the mother leaned over to her daughter and whispered.

  “She probably knows where it is.”

  “Who was that?!” the daughter whispered excitedly, her mind finally distracted from the storm.

  The Navigator

  The navigator walked from the compartment, the shiny, mirror-like face plate that she wore made her stick out in every situation save when she was with her own kind, so she did not bristle at the tone of the child's voice. She did not envy that 'normal' child, she pitied her if anything at all.

  Her special AI, a unit that even corpers had never seen, unlocked the various secure portals which led to one of several, redundant cockpits. The chamber was large enough to fit two people but there was no one else present. She knew that one of her partners was located at the other end of the train and another near the middle.

  She strapped herself into a safety harness, her arms falling to her sides and her fingers motionless, not needing AI gloves. The soft lights of the instrument panel reflected on her mirrored face plate but she was not looking back, she knew the data before even the dashboard could update itself.

  But she had heard what the child had said about 'Maltiempo'. She had asked her own mother the same types of questions when she was a child. She sighed, even a member of the Daneel Collective was not beyond longing for the comforts of the past and for her own mother. She envied the offspring of her people today, they would never be without their mother, or their father or any loved one.

  And Maltiempo was not such a bad thing. Weather had not been the lethal enemy of mankind, rather it was change itself. Besides, it was only in the age of Maltiempo that the planet had witnessed the next evolution of man, something new, something never seen in all of its history, something only imagined - a burgeoning collective intelligence, a hive of human brains connected in a profound way. They dreamed that one day every human would be connected with every other human, in real time. Some day. Not today.

  Thus she was not alone, even as she sat within a speeding, levitating train, her mind was connected, to some degree, with many, though not all, of her compatriots in the city she had left as well as the one which she approached. And they in turn were connected to others who were then connected to others of their kind, of their 'corporation'.

  Just as humans do not think with a single neuron or even a single region of their brain, neither did the Collective think with one of its constituent entities nor even with two of them. It was the sum of the minds which formed and influenced the whole. It even debated itself.

  Transom Industries was an excellent choice for our purpose.

  Large, but not too powerful.

  Pervasive, but prone to our intimidation.

  They will speak of our grievance with them and will be believed.

  More than if we had spoken ourselves.

  Because many fear us.

  Many love us.

  Some think us insane.

  Many envy us but trust our technology.

  But assimilation remains our greatest challenge now.

  Granted. Then why did we take only one of the Transom assets?

  The plan was to take both. We took only one.

  The point was made.

  Taking both might have resulted in undue resentment, Transom might still be useful.

  A partnership?

  A takeover?

  A working relationship.

  If only one should be taken why not the asset CC34F? The female?

  Females are better contributions for obvious reasons.

  The male was known to have compatibility issues.

  We always intended to take the female. That is why she was summoned.

  We changed our mind. We offered her a choice.

  Which she rejected.

  It was not the plan.

  Plans are not rigid things. We changed our mind. We changed the plan.

  It is done. Move on.

  But why was it done? We were not all present. We are not yet capable to be all-present.

  We, who were present, changed the plan.

  Why?

  She did not try to manipulate us.

  She respects us. She may be a useful liaison.

  She has a pretty face, are we even now so shallow?

  She sang us a song. Of paths which cannot be retraced, decisions which cannot be un-made. Something we know well.

  She understands us, she may join us willingly, and others will follow.

  Many will join us when they realize all that we are.

  Many will hate us for what we are becoming.

  Perhaps.

  Perhaps we were fooled.

  Perhaps she fooled us.

  Perhaps we felt sorry for her.

  Perhaps we felt sorry for her.

  Perhaps our gesture will be remembered.

  Perhaps we were moved by a song.

  Perhaps we were bewitched by a pretty face.

  “Perhaps we were bewitched,” echoed the thoughts of the faceless woman from within the cockpit of the strange levitating train as it rose above a ruined forest and moved on its way, obscured by darkness, protected by fear of the storm. Mostly.

  Raiders

  The train passed over piles of tangled and interlaced tree limbs and vines, once an orderly forest. Huddled beneath a makeshift igloo of lumber, garbage and debris, white eyes looked out from beneath just in time to see the strange object pass overhead.

  Caught by surprise, Agnetha had no time to duck her head back, and she felt the tremble of the ground beneath her, beneath them all, and she was sure they had been found out. She closed her eyes in despair and waited the consequences of her mistake. But the blue-sparking thing passed them by.

  Raider. Others had named her and her people as such. But they were mistaken; they didn't understand. They were traders. And she has heard the tales of a few who had managed to barter with the owners of the flying eel. And profited greatly.

  So she has led her companions far off the normal travel routes, using only glimpses of the creature and her own guesswork as guidance. But the storms favor the bold with luck. Now, with this new sighting, she adjusted their heading once again and would continue on, hoping to find the lair of the people who have created such a machine.

  Darren

  Although he pretended to be gazing out the dark window of the hugger train as it neared New Berlyn, Darren was actually furtively watching the young woman in the berth across from his own. So while his eyes technically received light from the smokey fire within the toppled forest below, he was distracted and his brain simply did not realize the significance - that the ruined forest was harboring human life. He had bigger fish to fry.

  For Darren, it had been a productive trip, garnering two potential human contracts, two females anxious to better th
eir lot, to decrease their corporate debt by trading owners.

  The first subject was easy, young and naive; she had just reached the stage of her serfdom to have realized how long it might be before her debt could be paid but not yet experienced enough to know that corporate profits are not easily discarded. There was no such thing as a free lunch, not even a discounted lunch.

  The other, the woman he now watched, was more experienced and thus more suspicious, but Darren was a consummate salesman and knew to play the game to the last, pressing every opportunity and being persistent to the end.

  It had paid off. He was constantly amazed how the desire to improve one's social and economic status so easily overruled better judgment.

  It wasn't that the deal was too good to be true. But sometimes the devil you know is much better than the devil you don't. And this devil, the one to whom he would sell them, didn't want them to work for years, gradually paying off their debt through paltry commissions. No, he wanted them simply as medical assets, hosts, expendable bodies and that was the real reason such a large fraction of the debt could be written off and they would never get the chance to pay off the reduced balance.

  Still, he was concerned. This one, the olive skinned Transom asset, had a satisfactory fertility score, determined through the Paulson test, a procedure he was told was extremely uncomfortable, the word he preferred to use. And most subjects emerged disoriented but functional and aware. But this one had not.

  Instead, she didn't seem to recognize him or her surroundings. He had been forced to help her back to her berth, fighting her attempts to fall backwards, restraining the wide circular motion she tried to make with her arms, as if she were swimming. If she attracted too much attention, a medic might be called, and they might test a sample of her blood.

  He had hoped she would regain her senses during the remainder of the trip but she sat quiet, without speaking or reacting, her eyes lifted toward the ceiling of the passenger car as if she was looking up into the heavens.

  Suddenly, he realized that the train had stopped, safely docked in a hugger tube beneath New Berlyn, and the passengers were starting to gather their belongings and leave. The girl, however, did not react and remained seated, even as others rose and collected their belongings.

  Darren's eyes caught a young man eyeing the dark hair and smooth, tan complexion of his prospect with a look of concern. What if the intruder tried to strike up a conversation with her and became alarmed? Darren rose to his feet and approached her, possessively, and stood, as if waiting patiently. Finally, the man moved on. Then Darren reached down and put his hand on hers, and pinched her, hard.

  To his relief, the girl reacted, pulling her hand away. But unwilling to cast any further suspicion on himself, he simply muttered, “Wake up, we've arrived,” and then he walked to the threshold of the car and began to work his way into the aisle of disembarking passengers. He took a final look at her, and his heart sank, she was still in her seat.

  “Hey,” he began, and then whispered privately to a uniformed attendant, “there is a girl in that compartment...well I told her that we arrived but she just went back to sleep. She has been like that the entire trip, probably too much partying. I hope you won't leave without her?”

  “No chance of that,” the conductor replied seriously. “We go into the yard until tomorrow evening. But I'll roust her out.”

  Only partially reassured, Darren filed out with the rest and walked quickly into New Berlyn Station. He walked slowly up the wide, stone stairs toward the station exit, stopping frequently, even as people passed him and the station quickly emptied. Long range hugger trains always arrived in the dead of night and everyone was anxious to catch a ride to a soft bed.

  Finally, with his hand on the exit door, he saw her tall, dark form emerge from the tubeway. Thank the gods, he thought. He would sell her contract right away, before any complications developed; he could make up the credits when he sold the younger one. He made that decision as he pushed through the door and strolled out into the dome.

  Cynnamon

  She was swimming in the sea of everything, the dark liquid of space-time cool against her cheeks, the tingling of spontaneously created particles dancing before her eyes like fireflies before embracing their twins again and vanishing. She felt the soothing hum of the Universe filling her ears. She was relaxed and happy, her arms and legs executing a slow, gentle, back crawl as she swam through the void.

  She had purposed toward it, the impossibly black center around which everything else swirled, but as she grew closer she realized her aim was off, her speed increasing quickly. She stopped trying to correct course, she was now moving too fast and could no longer significantly change her trajectory. She looked toward the eye of the maelstrom as it whipped her body around it. And flung her back the way she had come.

  Next time, she mused, her aim would be better but no matter. She closed her eyes and savored the sensation of stardust against her skin as she sailed through it all.

  Suddenly, she was interrupted by a distinctive sound, a bell, a chime. She opened her eyes to find a floating island of rock. An illuminated door had opened in one facet of stone. Through it she could see a small room, shelves in one wall, each of which held many small, golden boxes.

  Instinctively, she knew the containers belonged to her. Each a reminder of something she needed to consider or wanted to do. Over the years she had come to the realization that some of these mementos might remain on their shelves forever, unfinished.

  The bell rang again.

  Cynnamon slipped out of the sea and stepped onto the rocks, sparking drops of liquid emptiness rolling off her gold hued skin, falling back to where they belonged.

  Curious, she walked to the door and passed through finding herself now in a brightly lit hallway. The music of the Universe was gone, replaced with a low, mechanical vibration. A solitary man stood ahead of her, gesturing to her and pointing.

  She moved forward, following his direction, along another corridor until she reached a closed portal, its window revealing the smooth, rounded walls of a strange corridor beyond. The portal remained closed.

  She turned back toward the man, confused, and watched as he made another motion and repeated his gesture. She turned and watched as the door parted before her. She stepped through.

  Annabelle's Search

  Arrival

  Annabelle Paige stepped out of New Berlyn station and received a nose-full of dry, metallic, dome air. She took a moment to gaze over the tops of the buildings which surrounded the raised station and into what appeared to be an unobstructed night sky, complete with blazing stars and a full moon. She smiled as another, smaller red moon sailed across the sky. This could not be real. These domers were so extravagant! Didn't they see that there was beauty in clouds as well?

  The mustached man, Miriam's companion, was not distracted by the unexpected sight, perhaps he had been here before. Rather, he waved them toward a waiting cab.

  Ann was ambivalent as to whether she should part ways with the couple now, but her inferior villager AI unit had been unable to secure a ride and it was well after midnight, so she decided that she would not pass up the offer. She took a seat opposite the pair, determined not to stare.

  The man, a doctor of some sort, had a clean cut, dapper appearance and even, reddish-brown hair with no signs of gray, though that meant little these days. He had a stocky build and ruddy skin so Ann pegged his age in the mid-forties, a stark contract to Miriam's trendy fashions, silky young skin, glittered eye lashes and beauty contest winner looks.

  Ann was amused to see the normally aloof Miriam fretting.

  “I hope she isn't standing in the middle of that old building waiting for us? It's late with few taxis,” Miriam complained, her large doll-like green eyes blinked slowly.

  “Then she will call one herself,” Ann assured her. “but it's much more likely she is long gone by now, attending to the whims of her corporate masters.”

  “Nothing wro
ng with that!” the Doctor smiled happily at Ann. “And by the way, who the hell are you?”

  “Be nice,” insisted Miriam, “This is Ann, my friend from that church, I told you about her.”

  “I remember something about a church, now you have a friend there?” He asked turning toward Miriam.

  “I bumped into her on the ride down. And yes, two meetings is enough to call her friend.”

  “Annabelle Paige,” Ann offered her hand but the man just looked at her.

  “Doctor Maximilian Petyr,” he smiled pleasantly. “What do you do Miss Paige?”

  “Well, I am a botanist in Techview, but I've always wanted to see New Berlyn,” Ann lied.

  At least that was her story, what she would tell everyone here, even Miriam. And while she would have to see something of this dismal valley, her main purpose, the only thing which brought her so far from her Techview home, was to investigate the disappearance of a member of the local Sisterhood; and not just any member, but its figurative leader, the First Sister of New Berlyn.

  “Really? Why?” the Doctor laughed, and then he relented. “Perhaps you came to see Transom Gardens? I hear they are spectacular, even by historical standards.”

  “Fragile dome flowers do not interest me, I live in the villages,” Ann declared.

  “Don't you mean under the villages?” Petyr responded with a glimmer in his eye, “in some fox hole?”

  “Do you have a place to stay, Ann?” Miriam interjected, placing a hand on Petyr's forearm.

  Ann looked at her blankly. She had thought to stay in the Sanctuary but the building had been abandoned and it was late.

  Miriam did not wait for an answer. “We have two rooms allocated, but as I will stay with the Doctor, you will take the other.”

  Both Petyr and Ann looked blankly at Miriam who now seemed satisfied and began arranging her full light brown hair.

  “Miriam, I can...,” Ann began, uncomfortable at the thought but realizing it would be convenient. She needed to begin her search first thing the next day and it would be better to accept this offer rather than registering her credentials at some corper hotel. It was still a working theory that Sister Lyn had been kidnapped to satisfy some corporate need.