Authors: David Wingrove
Muscle flexing. That’s what George had said. But by whom?
The truth was, he didn’t have a clue. Couldn’t begin to think who could benefit from this.
Maybe George was right. Maybe it was school kids. Geeks. After all, there was a long history on the internet of smart-arse kids fucking about with so-called ‘secure’ systems. Why
shouldn’t this be simply another instance?
It was a possibility, but a very remote one. Because it would take an absolute genius to have devised those programmes. A regular Beethoven of the computer keyboards, a Michelangelo.
Or four teams of slightly lesser talents, each team working on a single programme. For
years
.
The idea, once he’d had it, stuck.
Okay. But who would put the money into that kind of intensive research. And why?
He didn’t know. Not yet. But he would.
Jake dried himself, then sat down at his console in the bedroom.
‘Trish… give me what you know about GenSyn.’
‘Is that wise, Mister Reed?’
He turned, looking to the ceiling, as if she were physically there. ‘I’ll be the judge, thank you, Trish. I’m not going to see her again, if that’s what you’re
thinking. I’m just interested, that’s all.’
There was a second’s delay, then Trish responded.
‘On-screen, or shall I give you a summation?’
‘Just tell me, Trish…salient facts. When the company was formed, how it’s doing, what it’s developing.’
‘And your friend?’
He smiled. ‘Make it brief. I’m just intrigued as to why she joined them.’
‘Okay. The company was formed twenty years back, in 2023, by Gustav Ebert and his brother Wolfgang.’
‘What lovely names…’
‘Gustav, it seems, was a genetics specialist. He’d been working at the University of Heidelberg. He’d done his doctorate there and stayed on to do pure research. It was while
he was there that he came up with something. A year later he had formed the company with his brother.’
Jake interrupted. ‘Came up with something… what do you mean by that?’
‘It’s not clear. He’s never specified in any of the interviews he’s done since. But within the first ten years of its existence, GenSyn registered over three hundred and
forty patents with the WPO, all of them within the field of modified genetics.’
‘I see… and the finance for all this?’
‘Wolfgang was the financial genius. He raised sufficient capital up front to build his brother a new block of labs and, three years down the line, a fully-mechanized factory just outside
of Bremen. They call it “The Farm”.’
‘Any reason for that?’
‘It seems that one of the things they specialized in is modified animals, for the pet market. Super-intelligent mice, that sort of thing.’
‘And the others?’
‘The
other
… Enhanced human replacements.’
He waited, knowing Trish would explain.
‘Their clientele is very rich,’ Trish said. ‘They don’t deal with just anyone. It might interest you to know that your own CEO, Charles Hinton, is among them.’
‘And what did he buy from GenSyn?’
‘It isn’t specified,’ Trish said. Only Jake knew she was keeping that information from him. And who could blame her? She
belonged
to the Hinton organization, after
all.
‘But what kind of thing do they provide?’
‘Replacement organs. Replacement limbs. Full-body doubles.’
‘Sorry? Body doubles? What do you mean?’
‘Precisely that. Genetically precise copies of their clients’ bodies. They grow them, it seems, in vats.’
Now why the hell haven’t I heard of this before? Or was I simply not attending when that was on the news?
‘And these doubles… these
golem
… are they alive?’
‘Physically, yes. Mentally… no. They have no intelligence whatsoever.’
Jake shivered at the thought. So that’s what the ultra-rich are spending their money on these days. They’ve done with yachts and private jets. Now they’re buying themselves new
bodies, to replace the old ones when they wear out.
‘Okay… and they’re doing well out of this?’
‘Very well indeed.’
‘Then why haven’t I come across them in my work?’
‘Because they’re still a private company. There are only two share holders…’
‘Gustav and Wolfgang?’
‘Yes.’
‘And Alison’s role in this?’
‘Is precisely what she said it was. She looks at new projects and evaluates whether or not they’re worth pursuing. The Eberts think very highly of her. If she says yes to something,
then they put money behind it. If she says no…’
‘It’s no.’ Jake smiled. Some things never changed. ‘Okay. Forget I ever asked.’
‘It’s forgotten already.’
Jake stood, meaning to go and dress, but Trish hadn’t quite finished.
‘One other thing,’ she said. ‘A little bit of gossip. About
Ubik
…’
He sat down again. ‘Go on…’
‘It’s about Drew Ludd. He’s finally signed a deal with Chinese media agents
Huang Chin Shih Tai
…’
‘Never! I thought he said he’d rather erase everything he’d ever done…’
‘That is what he said. But he’s struck a deal. A very good one, too. He’s all set to become the biggest grossing actor in Hollywood, dead or alive!’
Drew Ludd was the actor who had played Joe Chip in the media drama of
Ubik
. Until now he had been Hollywood’s most vehement opponent to ‘mor-phing’ – the use of
computer-generated actors’ faces, gestures and voices by studios and advertising agencies. Thus far he had insisted on doing things ‘the old way’, using live performances and
working with a cast of real actors. But now, it seems, he had sold out to the highest bidder.
‘Do you think it was just a bidding ploy, then, Trish?’
‘There’s a lot of commentators who are saying that, but there’s also a feeling that HCST offered so much that he just couldn’t turn it down. There’s word that
he’s giving half his future earnings to charity.’
Jake whistled. That would do him no harm, either. He was already the most popular actor on the planet.
‘Have they said anything about what kind of thing we’re going to see him in?’
‘Well… rumour has it that they plan to re-make the old TV show,
Band of
Brothers
, with Drew Ludd playing alongside Spencer Tracy, Marlon Brando, Robert De Niro, James Dean, Daniel Day-Lewis, Al Pacino, Peter O’Toole, Charlton Heston, Kirk Douglas, Elvis
Presley and John Wayne.’
Jake nodded. He liked the sound of that. What he didn’t like was when media companies used their licences to bring out crap. The
Shou Wei
company, for instance, had spent a fortune
acquiring the late Johnny Depp’s image-package, together with those of a whole number of nubile young actresses, only to bring out a stream of hardcore porn movies. It wasn’t right,
especially as in most cases the actors themselves weren’t alive to defend themselves against such exploitation.
‘Thanks, Trish. Is that all?’
‘That’s all.’
Jake dressed, then pottered about for a while in the kitchen, making himself a late breakfast. He would have preferred to have been at work, there inside the datscape, but George had wanted him
out, along with all their other
logins
, until they knew for sure what they were dealing with.
In one way that made sense. In another…
He had kept thinking about it. The only way to trace it was to be there when it happened. To have a whole team of them, hundreds strong, inside there, waiting for something to show up and then
reacting instantly, not four seconds later when it was too late.
He was standing there, lost in his thoughts, when Hugo rang through.
‘Jake? You there?’
He put the wall on visual. ‘Hugo? What’s up?’
Hugo beamed down at him from the big panel that filled the upper half of the kitchen wall, twice life-size.
‘Just wanted to let you know. I met up with Carl this morning. He’s real cute, isn’t he? Offered me a job, too. Not that I’m going to take it, only… well,
it’s nice to be flattered.’
‘It’s not flattery, Hugh… you’re good at what you do. Maybe the best.’
‘Don’t overdo it now. I know how good I am… and how far short I am from being the best. But I like what I heard.’
‘What’s the offer, then?’
‘Soundtracks… he’s linked up with some big Chinese media company…
Huang Chin
—’
‘
Shih Tai
,’ Jake finished for him.
‘How’d you know that? Did he say something?’
Jake told him about the Drew Ludd deal. Hugo whistled.
‘Christ… you don’t think…?’
‘I imagine they have hundreds of projects on the go at any one time.’
‘Yeah… and I doubt they’d want to use a novice first time out…’
‘No, but it’d be nice, eh? You can dream…’
Hugo grinned. ‘Yeah… and I kept thinking to myself, what a nice arse this guy’s got…’
‘Hugo!’
‘Oh, I know… but I can look, can’t I?’
After Hugo had signed off, Jake sat there, feeling at a loose end. Maybe he should contact Kate and see how she was, find out if she’d told her parents yet and how they’d
reacted.
He could picture their delight. Only even as he made to connect, George’s voice filled the air.
‘Jake… are you there?’
He sounded breathless, agitated.
Jake stood. ‘What is it?’
‘Something’s happening. I think you should get back here.’
‘I’ll be there at once.’
‘Right.’ And George cut. No formalities, he just cut, which was the surest indication of how serious things were, because George never forgot the formalities.
‘Trish. Get me a hopper.’
‘It’ll be here in two.’
‘Ah… right…’
George must have ordered it.
‘Trish… do we know
anything
about what went on in that board room?’
‘Nothing. It’s all level-A.’
‘Right… Then let Kate know I’ll probably be late.’
It wasn’t really necessary. Trish always knew best what to do. But it gave him the illusion that he was still in charge, and who knew, after what he’d seen earlier, whether they were
in charge of things or not. Only time would tell. Time and, he hoped, a little bit of luck.
As he stepped inside he could feel the wind blowing and knew a change was coming to the Market. The wind, like all else, was an indicator. Its strength reflected the flow of
stocks and shares, the amount of trade that was taking place.
A warm wind boded well. A cold one…
Jake shivered. There was a distinctly icy edge to this wind. It was an East Wind, blowing over a landscape of extraordinary forms. Things had changed in the hour or so that he’d been gone.
There were cracks now in the surface of the datscape, like fault lines, crusts forming and crumbling over the bubble and heave. He looked about him, noting how the surface of everything was
sweating now. That always happened when the Market got as volatile as this.
Only why? What had set this off?
Usually it was obvious. Normally, in this place where geometry met geology, one could trace its every stage, its every movement. But today was different. That wind was like a faint but steady
pressure. It felt…
fake
somehow, like someone was forcing things, was artificially driving prices down. But how could that be?
George had met him outside, in the Wiring Room.
‘What did they say?’ Jake asked. ‘What’s the plan of action?’
‘There isn’t one. They just want you to go back in there. Try and calm things down. Steady things. The Market’s edgy after that attack.’
‘They still think it’s schoolboys?’
‘I told them what you said, Jake. About the complexity of the programming. But I think they could see that for themselves. We got the MAT report while we were in session…’
‘And?’
‘They haven’t a clue, either. But this new development… it has to be linked, don’t you think?’
Jake didn’t know how, but it made sense. This new
pressure
on the Market came too soon after the other not to be connected.
Maybe what happened earlier was them firing off a few shots, testing them to see if they worked. Finding their range. Maybe the big bombardment was yet to come.
It was a crazy way to think of things, but what other way suggested itself?
He walked on, feeling the crunch of tiny pellets beneath his boots. It was warm in this sector, a faint tang of citrus and rosebuds contrasted with the strong metallic odour of some nearby
mineral stacks.
The wind gusted. Things shimmered, trembled, rattled silently. A flurry of azure dust gusted by, leaving a frosting of dark blue crystals on his arm.
Jake slowly turned 360 degrees, taking everything in.
Where’s the source of this? Or is this so subtle that it’s coming from a thousand different sources?
Follow the wind, he told himself. Check out its source.
Yet even as he thought that, even as he took the first step towards it, so he felt something else. The sensation that something had latched on to him. That his feed was suddenly
contaminated.
There was an expression for this.
Being ridden
.
Jake reacted immediately. ‘George… flush me through. I think I’ve got a rider.’
A second later he felt the surge as his sensory feed was dumped then reestablished. It made him stagger but he didn’t fall. What’s more he was alone again. The intruder had been
shaken off.
‘Put up blocks. And a trace. I want to know who’s jumping on my back.’
It happened sometimes. Other traders, not necessarily
logins
, tried to get a free ride – looking through his eyes and using his experience to make money. But this felt different. It
was as if they’d wanted him to know he was being watched.
Only why would they do that?
Ahead the land sloped down, an outgrowth like a giant pile of melted orange sugar blocked his path. Jake eased round it, jumping over a narrow stream of aquamarine ooze that flowed sluggishly
down its track.
And stopped dead, facing what looked like two identical huge red beetles. The two of them stood upright on their jointed back legs, their forearms and antennae twitching.