Collective Mind (31 page)

“Come
on, tell me. I’m a total nervous wreck. Even the guys have already called
twice.”

In
reply, Isaac handed Bikie a copy of his undertaking not to leave the area.
Bikie whistled.

“All
right, just pull yourself together. Here, take a swig!” said Bikie, holding out
a flask of rum.

The
rum scalded Isaac’s throat, going down into him with an agreeable sensation,
and he instantly felt shot away.

“We
forgot about the roaming. From Sardinia.”

“I
get it.”

“What
else is important?”

“He
knows I ended up with the card. The memory card. He called me out when I was
getting ready to leave. I didn’t admit it, but he is certain. He definitely
knows, but I can’t say from where. Maybe Elvis gave me away, maybe there were
cameras at the police station. I don’t know, but he knows for certain that I
have it.”

“What
else?”

“He
was surprised about Pascal and Vicky, but I was prepared, and I think I answered
that perfectly.”

“Is
there more?”

“I
think that’s all.”

“Try
to remember, Isaac!”

“That’s
definitely all. I read the report of the interview before I signed it, fifteen
minutes ago.”

“OK.
Never mind. Let’s go home quick. We’ll think of something.”

The
commissioner, who had trailed Isaac from the police station all the way to
where he met Bikie, thought to himself delightedly: “And here’s another
character. An accomplice. Bikie in person, from the look of things. So they’re
working together. Well-well. He matches the description from the hospital. He
was there with Pascal and Isaac.” Taking out his mobile phone, he entered a
note: “Who is Bikie?”

After
that, pleased with the interesting case and successful interrogation, he went
to a restaurant and ordered a scallop carpaccio with truffle oil and his
favorite lasagna.

The
scallops were magnificent, but he had to wait a little while for the lasagna,
as the Pulcinella restaurant was crowded. Pellegrini’s hunger reached its
highest point, and when they eventually brought the steaming plate, the
commissioner attacked it with a redoubled appetite, washing the food down with
a light Provençal rosé. He was savoring his meal and the
successful ending to the day when his phone rang. The screen informed him it
was Pascal Dean.

Pellegrini
chuckled contentedly and answered the call:

 “Pellegrini
speaking.”

“Commissioner,
please, they’re threatening me!” he heard Pascal’s frightened voice.

“Who?
Why? Who is threatening you?” the commissioner’s smirk evaporated.

“It’s
Isaac. He called me. He is very strange! He’s gone crazy. Very aggressive! I
think he’s drunk. I want to call the police!”

“Calm
down! Everything will be fine! Right, hang on a moment. Can you lock all the
doors?”

“Yes,
of course, I can. I already have.”

“Don’t
call the police, you’ll frighten him off. I’ll be there in ten minutes. And
don’t open the door for him no matter what! What’s your address again?”

Pellegrini
darted across to the waiter, taking out his police badge on the way.

“You
got a car? Or a scooter or motorbike? It’s urgent!”

“Yes,
yes. A car. It’s out there in the car park, the company car.”

“The
keys, right now! I’m from the police! I’ll bring it back later.”

The
waiter ran to get the keys and a minute later the commissioner was hurtling in
the direction of Pascal’s home.

A
dumbfounded patron watched the car go with his mouth hanging open. He had never
seen anything like that in respectable Monaco.

Pellegrini
pushed the car at top speed. He stopped one block from Pascal’s house and ran,
keeping as close to the wall as possible. In the evening light, he was barely
visible. He glanced at his watch: eleven minutes had gone by. Everything was
quiet at Pascal’s house. Aha, so he had got here ahead of Isaac! He knocked on
the door quietly, dialing Pascal’s number at the same time.

“Pascal,
it’s me. Everything’s fine, open up. But quietly.”

“Just
a second.”

First
of all, the commissioner glanced quickly round the room.

“Turn
off the light, so he won’t spot me from outside.”

Pascal
meekly turned the light off.

“Phew,”
said the commissioner, catching his breath. “Bring me a glass of water,
please.”

Pascal
went to the kitchen for the water. The commissioner watched him go, feeling
annoyed. “Oh, these Veggies. I dashed here, but he’s moving like a tortoise. In
no hurry to get anywhere.” Pascal came back, carrying a glass in trembling
hands.

“Don’t
worry, I’m here now,” the commissioner reassured him and downed the water. “Did
he call again?”

“No,
he didn’t call. But he said he was coming. You got here very quickly. Thank
you, commissioner.”

The
commissioner’s legs and arms suddenly felt heavy. His eyelids were closing, he
was falling asleep.

 “Why,
you bastard,” was the last thing he had time to think before he blacked out.

Pellegrini
woke up with his head throbbing violently. He tried to get up, but couldn’t
because his hands and feet were bound tightly to his chair.

“You’ve
come around, dear commissioner,” he heard a polite voice say.

Pellegrini
peered at the speaker. A late-middle-aged man holding a cigar... And then a
jolt of recognition seared him like an electric shock: sitting there in front
of him was the famous Professor Link in his own person! The one who had
disappeared without a trace!

The
professor continued calmly:

“At
last, you and I can talk in a calm setting since you know, you’re always in
pursuit. On your side commissioner, you have all the technology and thousands
of brains, including the best in the police. On our side, we have only four
creative, high IQs and a longing for a free life. Almost even odds, right?” the
professor winked slyly. “But we have won. How are you feeling?”

“Does
that matter?” the commissioner asked venomously.

“Of
course. We’re human beings and exceedingly humane ones. Which cannot be said of
machines. Computing machines.”

“In
that case, I wouldn’t mind a glass of water.”

“Sparkling
or still? Local or Italian?”

“Without
any poison!”

“What
poison? It was a standard sedative. The latest generation. Your head will stop
hurting in a couple of minutes. So would you like French or Italian water?”
asked Link again with a smile.

Apparently
the professor knew about Pellegrini’s career setbacks due to his Italian name.
But how did he, the commissioner wondered. It was Pellegrini’s secret grudge,
one he had always kept to himself and never shared with anyone. And from out of
this grudge grew a great and powerful resentment of all nationalist blockheads.
With his professional attention to detail, Pellegrini realized that for some
reason this was no secret to the professor.

“When
did you go digging into my head?”

The
commissioner forgot the condition he was in for a moment and almost barked at
the professor in his interrogation voice. He had been an interrogator many
times, but this was his first time in the position of a detainee. Well, or a
prisoner, which wasn’t all that different. Checking himself, the commissioner
relaxed his shoulders slightly and glanced imperturbably round the room. Isaac
and Pascal and Bikie were here. So they were all in it together. Pascal wasn’t
a victim at all!

“Bring
me a double espresso with brown sugar and a croissant,” Pellegrini said in the
most brazen and provocative voice he could manage.

“Isaac,
bring the commissioner some water and a cup of coffee. With a straw,” Link added
and turned back to Pellegrini. “I haven’t been digging into your head, it
contradicts our basic principle. At this stage, we are opposed to the use of
other people’s thoughts or collective thoughts. It is simply that, as often
happens after the sleeping drug that Pascal slipped in your water, you were
slightly delirious and you let slip one of your closest secrets.

“In
this case, you spoke abusively for a long time, expressing your grievances by
using the words ‘Frenchmen’, ‘Italy’ and ‘surname’. As your opponent, I have
studied you quite closely, and it wasn’t hard to guess what you meant.”

“That’s
contemptible!” said Pellegrini, turning scarlet.

“You’ve
got nothing to worry about: it is of no interest to me, and I didn’t eavesdrop
on you deliberately. I simply came in to check on your condition. In a moment,
you’ll have your coffee.”

The
muscles of the captive’s face relaxed slightly, forehead lines smoothed out.
The professor saw that the commissioner was starting to calm down.

“Will
you give me the croissant through a straw too?” Pellegrini drawled caustically.
“Is there anyone here to chew it up for me, apart from rats?”

“There
now, see how useful it is to have imagination,” Link commented in the soothing
voice of a pediatrician. “You can even compare people you don’t like with rats.
Soon you’ll be able to eat whatever you want but that’s if you want to, of
course. Very soon, so you’ll have to wait a little bit for the croissant,
especially since its evening now, and croissants are only served at breakfast
here.”

The
skilled policeman in Pellegrini suddenly had a bad feeling. Link was standing
there in front of him, alive and kicking. Pascal and Isaac weren’t hiding the
fact that they were working together: this all meant trouble.

“Dead
men don’t eat whatever they want,” the commissioner summed up.

“Dead
men? Oh, come now, commissioner! We’re scientists, not murderers! We’re not
going to kill you.”

“Oh,
sure. Then why have you suddenly decided to reveal all your secrets? To make my
job easier?”

“Firstly,
we don’t intend to reveal all our secrets to you. And secondly, by morning, you
will be entirely harmless to us.”

“For
rats a good rat catcher is always dangerous,” the commissioner hissed through
his teeth.

“Isaac,
is the helmet ready? Link asked, then turned to the commissioner and continued
imperturbably. “We tried to decide what to do with you for a long time, and
then we had an idea, which, as you’ll appreciate, is rather brilliant in its
own way.”

Pellegrini
was really annoyed by the professor’s smile, but he didn’t show it, not
blinking an eye.

“We
are humane individuals. Of course, we can’t let you go, but we won’t keep you
prisoner. We’ll hold a ‘Link court’ over you, they used to ‘lynch’ people, now
we’ll ‘link’ you…” the professor smiled at his own joke. “And you’ll go back to
your job.”

Despite
the commissioner’s most intense efforts, an expression of surprise appeared on
his face. Isaac put the helmet on Pellegrini’s head and explained.

“Now
your OE will serve the world together with many talented minds, but separate
from you, unfortunately, or more precisely, from your brain. You’re a great
supporter and even defender of the program, now you’ll have a chance to be
involved in it for a while.”

“You
won’t dare,” the commissioner said in a dry, tense voice.

“Why
not? Believe me, it will all be done fair and square. We’ll measure your
creativity level and calculate its price. You’ll sign a standard contract with
your instructions and wishes. And Pascal will transfer the standard fee to you.
You’ll find him very interesting to talk to, by the way. He was a Veggie to,
not so very long ago.”

“What
do you mean, was?”

“He
was, but he isn’t any longer. Now he’s a normal person again,” Isaac said,
smiling.

“But
how? That’s impossible.”

“Impossible
for some, entirely realistic for others.”

“You
won’t dare,” hissed the commissioner again, turning pale.

A
large piece of the jigsaw suddenly fitted into place in his mind. If not for
his hundred-per-cent certainty that Happies didn’t come back, of course, he
would have realized that Pascal was too strange for a Happy. It was obvious,
that his behavior was different. Right through the interview with Pascal, the
commissioner had been haunted by a strange feeling that he was normal. But who
could ever have thought it? The commissioner had clung so tightly to the idea
of extortion, that he had totally neglected this suspicious point.

“Why
not, commissioner? Surely it is only humane to bring you closer, so to speak,
to your ideals?” said Isaac, calmly continuing to attach wires to the helmet,
but Pellegrini was already thinking of something else and didn’t try to argue.

“Hey!
Commissioner!” Pascal called, rousing Pellegrini from his stupor. “I have
something to tell you. I’ll reassure you. I was a Veggie and I looked happy.
You will too. I spent over two years as a boiled vegetable, it was like a
dreamless sleep, you know? I don’t remember anything about those years,
anything at all! Being a Veggie is like being in a coma. You won’t feel a thing
and you won’t understand a thing. And where there is no understanding, there is
no fear. You’ll become a blissful fool who won’t be bothered by any
discrepancies in the behavior of that liar Isaac, or that strange Veggie
Pascal. That’s what it will be like. Now isn’t that wonderful?”

The
commissioner followed Pascal’s words with a struggle. He was barely in a fit
state to listen. For probably the first time in his life, he was genuinely
frightened. He realized they wouldn’t let him go.

Initially,
when he understood that these people were not capable of murder he somewhat
relaxed, but what he heard after that, made him change his mind. They won’t let
him go, it was clear because otherwise they wouldn’t have told him the whole
truth. And was it the whole truth?

“Hey,
Pellegrini, wake up! There is one piece of really good news,” said Isaac,
trying to bring the commissioner to his senses. “Our ultimate goal is to return
the energy to all the Happies, so think of this as a kind of medium-term leave,
six months to a year, I hope no longer than that. Fill out the contract,
please. Write the instructions, and I promise to deliver them to your
relatives. They’ll take you to California, or Hawaii, or Florida, or Goa.
Nothing personal, this is a battle of ideas.”

A
foggy swamp, a thunderstorm. That was how Pellegrini could have described his
train of thought. Flashes of light and total confusion, a kaleidoscope of
pictures flashing through his mind: his sister Janette, his god-daughter, the
Eiffel Tower seen through the window, salmon fettuccini, his office in the
Department and a Happy settlement. Himself and Gautier together.

“I’d
rather shoot myself. I’m an officer and I have the right to choose.”

His
mouth seemed to pronounce the words on its own as if it was his sub
consciousness speaking.

“An
interesting shift in your life philosophy,” said Isaac, surprised. “Only half
an hour ago you were prepared to tear us to pieces for the sake of your ideals,
and you’ve renounced them so easily.”

Pellegrini’s
mouth went dry, he had to respond to that.

“My
ideal has always been the world in which there is no crime or violence. I’m not
renouncing that world. And I’m not the only one in this room who has shifted
his philosophy of life! I think this is your invention, Professor Link?”
Pellegrini glowered at the professor. “Why have you suddenly changed your mind
and organized an entire underground movement as well?”

“Unfortunately,
commissioner, I created a monster. It has given the world many things that are
beautiful. The planet has taken a miraculous booster pill, you could say.
Became healthier, stronger. But I’m afraid the remedy has side effects that I
now have to put right.”

“What
are these side effects if you will pardon my curiosity?”

“Pascal
has told you everything already,” the professor replied sadly. “The condition
of being a Happy is not a real life. It’s a new form of coma. The people die,
not physically but emotionally, so to speak. The brain doesn’t work any longer.
No memories, as it turns out. We’ve given Pascal his OE back, as you see. But
what we’ve really done is brought him back from the afterworld. Believe me, it
wasn’t easy for me to admit that.”

“Maybe
you did something wrong when you returned his energy and accidentally erased
his memory?”

“Now
that is why we didn’t go to the police,” Isaac answered for the professor.
“Someone would say we returned the energy incorrectly, someone else would
suggest we were conducting additional research. Do you think it would be easy
for the Agency to renounce the power like that? Can you recall any similar
instances from history? And what if they declare us insane and stick us in a
madhouse? The fact that all children of Veggies have a zero level of creativity
doesn’t seem to have stopped the downloading.”

“But
not all the children are born Veggies!”

“Have
you done any DNA paternity tests on them? Why have you decided that both
parents are definitely Veggies?”

“Well,
that’s really getting ridiculous, young man,” Pellegrini tried to protest.

“No
Sir, I’d call it ‘assessing the risks soberly’,” Isaac replied firmly.

“If
we give another thousand Happies their creativity back, it will be an
indisputable fact. Not an isolated case that they could interpret any way they
like. Think about it. Without the professor, the back transfer will be declared
unscientific, because it wasn’t carried out in proper laboratory conditions,
for instance. And if we present the professor to them, we know they’ll stick
him away the next day. And who’ll actually do it? The terrorists or the
security services? And they could even cast doubt on Link’s statement. How can
you prove that the transferring back the OE was carried out correctly? They
could dispute the fact that Pascal was ever a Veggie. Maybe he’s a con artist
who got hold of some money and then coolly pretended to be a Veggie? If our
plan fails, of course, we’ll tell all of this to the police. And to the
journalists as well.”

“Well,
yes…” Pellegrini couldn’t help but agree with Isaac’s reasoning. Going to the
police didn’t guarantee anything. Except that to start with, they would all be
placed under arrest. After all, a theft had been committed, even if an unusual
one.