The Beam: Season Three (41 page)

The new network would be a place where anything was possible, but a single irony remained: Humans — who were analog, physical beings — would be completely unfit to fully experience a place like that. To truly live on the new and evolved network, you couldn’t have a body. You couldn’t be physical. You’d need a way to enter a virtual realm as people had been doing for a hundred years now…but to do so fully then find a way to discard the physical husk and stay there forever.
 

If humanity could do that, they’d be able to live a life of actualized dreams.
 

If they could do that, they could have Heaven on Earth.

Noah met his eyes in the mirror.
 

If he could solve that one problem, humankind’s true evolution could begin — and
that
, maybe, would be a legacy worth leaving.
 

But there was a problem with that, too — albeit a quality one.
 

In order to leave a legacy, a person had to die.
 

Watching his reflection, imagining the mirror as a portal to that other world, Noah smiled.
 

Episode 16

Chapter One

October 15, 2042 — IggNite Productions
 

“The trick,” Iggy told Noah, “will be telling the right story.”
 

Noah was sitting in Iggy’s penthouse atop the Ophelia Spire, near the mag train. Noah’s own penthouse was in Quark’s Infinity Spire, not far from Rachel Ryan’s penthouse and across from Clive Spooner’s famous one in the twisted black building. It was ironic that Panel was supposed to be a secret. Anyone could find them all if they just skimmed the tops of the city’s best spires.

Noah turned. Iggy was watching him in his serious way. Iggy laughed a lot and could be quite funny (such that Noah found
anything
funny), but he had a deliberately grave expression he used when intent on making a point. It was hard to take him seriously. He was wearing fifteen-year-old Converse shoes and a shirt with a cartoon character that Noah wasn’t geek-culture enough to recognize.
 

“‘The right story,’” Noah repeated.
 

Iggy nodded.
 

“What are you talking about? I asked you about evolution of Crossbrace.”
 

“Exactly, Noah. You wanted to ask
me
. You didn’t ask Eli, who’d know the technical details much better. You didn’t ask Clive, who we all know is your main off-Panel go-to guy.”
 

Noah started to protest. Going off-Panel couldn’t be illegal because Panel itself was neither legal nor illegal, and it couldn’t be prohibited because everyone in the group was at least friendly, and many had personal relationships beyond their professional ones. But discussion of large matters was supposed to involve all of them. That’s what Panel was for. Everyone was supposed to agree to a covenant:
If all of us share everything with you, you agree to share everything with us.
It had to be that way. It was the only way to control the world.

Before Noah could pretend he’d never gone to Clive Spooner behind the others’ backs, Iggy waved a hand to keep him from embarrassing himself.
 

“Whatever. We all do it. Clive’s basically a silent partner at O, and everyone knows it. That’s why, in front of Alexa, Shannon sometimes calls Clive ‘Seven.’ Because he’s the seventh member of O’s Six. But if you ask me, Clive is actually just fucking Alexa (not literally, unless he is, which he might be), and she’s too naive to see it.”
 

“You may be the first person in history to call Alexa Mathis naive.”
 

“My point is, you came to
me
. Not Eli, who knows the web like another world and built half of it. Not Clive, who’s your normal guy. Not even Alexa, who’d believe the psychobabble behind it all. So why me, Noah?”
 

“Maybe we were due. You and me.”
 

Iggy laughed. Iggy, Clive, Rachel, and Noah had been the first drivers of the informal mastermind that became Panel, but Iggy was the only one Noah hadn’t ever transacted business with. There was little crossover to work with. Noah had built Quark, and Iggy, like Alexa, had his roots in writing, branching out into creative entrepreneurship. He was the most right-brained among them — and
that
, maybe, was why Noah had come.
 

“You’re good at finding creative solutions to problems,” Noah said. “This felt like a big problem. More than a network issue.”

Iggy leaned against one of his large windows. “You came to me because I’m a storyteller.”
 

“Oh. Well, good to find out what I was thinking. Now: What did I have for breakfast?”
 

“I’m serious. Maybe you didn’t realize why you called me, but your mind understands the problem enough to know how difficult it will be for
others
out there in the world population to understand it. Tell me the truth: You’ve tried to create an outline, haven’t you? A project map? Maybe a business plan, even?”
 

Noah nodded slowly.
 

“Right. But those things don’t quite encapsulate it all. They don’t quite cover the bases. You’ll map out how Quark could manage to afford the outlays necessary to replace the brand-new Crossbrace network then realize that the board would never approve the expense. You’ll draw system schematics showing how many sensor clusters you’d need to put where, to give your new
evolved AI
the eyes and ears it needs to begin building…but then run into a brick wall when trying to explain all the disruption the workers and needed construction would cause the city. Because people are happy for now and will balk at the need for all the
annoying improvement work
. Repairing something that’s broken is one thing. Quark and the people using Crossbrace would agree to all of it if Crossbrace were obviously flawed and broken, but right now, it’s — ”
 

“It
is
flawed!” Noah interrupted.
 

“From your perspective. But most people don’t feel that way. Look at it from the Quark board’s point of view. They were ready to lynch you, but somehow you pulled Crossbrace off. You managed to launch it and delight the world. The board’s patience paid off, and within a year the company won’t just have its rather large debts paid; it’ll be cash-positive and on its way to being a beast. And
right now
— right as
something
finally went right for Quark, against all odds — you want to sell them on another massive, risky project? A project that basically scraps the thing that just saved their asses and starts over? Do you see the big sticking point here? Nobody else sees any problems with Crossbrace. It’s the best thing since the microchip.”
 

Noah wanted to rant about lack of vision, but he kept his mouth shut. Iggy was right, of course.
 

“You can’t argue your way into what you want, Noah. You need to pull off a little sleight of hand. You need to make the world think that what you have in mind is their idea. That it’s inevitable, if only someone could solve the problem you’ve made them believe they have. And then you present the solution — not as something you’re pushing for, but something that’s dragged from you, almost against your will.”
 

“What do you mean?”
 

“Come on, Noah. You got a little reprieve, and for a while I suppose you’ll be a hero — at least within the NAU. Same as Clive was a hero, though that fucker is charming enough to
keep
selling everyone on the idea that his shit doesn’t stink even after he got the world to build his moon station and pay for it then let him keep what he had, safe over here while his home burned in the East. But you, you’re not charming. You’re an asshole.”
 

Noah considered contradicting Iggy but decided not to bother.
 

“So if you want to replace Crossbrace with something even bigger, you have to pull off what Clive did with the Mare Frigoris base…but even harder, you have to make it seem like it was barely your idea. That you had a vision but knew it couldn’t happen, and somehow you pulled it off anyway.”
 

“I feel like I’m missing something,” Noah said.

“Well, right. That’s where the story comes in. And who’s better at telling stories than me?”
 

Noah watched Iggy. He was long, tall, and awkward. He had a huge nose and a messy head of hair. Storytelling was Iggy’s thing. Noah supposed he had to give him
something
.
 

“How have those in power led armies to kill people they don’t know for centuries, always at the risk of their lives? By telling them God wants them to do it. By telling them that the country is depending on them.”
 

“Propaganda,” said Noah.
 

“Stories,”
Iggy argued. “Stories about religion and patriotism. ‘If you die for the cause, you’ll save those you love from evil.’ Because the enemy is
always
evil. They’re never just people in a distant land; they’re
evil
. Maybe you’ll go to Valhalla. Maybe you’ll be rewarded with a harem of virgins. Hell, Clive had a story, right? Why do you think his company is called For the People? Because For Clive’s Bank Account doesn’t have the same ring to it. He told everyone that if they could build that array and look back to the beginning of time, it’d give humanity a common cause. Or look at Alexa. Do you think O could have got away with the shit it did if they hadn’t spun all those yarns about sexual liberation and freedom? Hell, I don’t even know half the alter egos Alexa has out there. She has fake activists trying to establish that
not
screwing O girls on their sex islands and
not
buying O toys and sims is tantamount to repressing every woman who’s ever lived. You think you can change the world without a great story? Think again.”
 

Noah stood. He crossed to Iggy’s bookcase — which, like Ben Stone’s desk when Noah had begun his journey, was lined with small cartoon figures. One was a blue platypus with a fedora. Now what the hell was
that?
He almost wanted to ask, but it was never a good idea to get Iggy started.
 

“Okay. So how do I tell a story?”
 

“First of all,” Iggy said, “you have to remember that the story can’t be about you. The story that drove the Crusades wasn’t about kings and queens and popes; it was about the destiny of nations and Heaven. Clive’s story wasn’t about Clive; it was about giving the world something to work toward that just so happened to benefit Clive Spooner, and he just piggybacked on Terrence Ferris’s PR campaign for the Doodad. ‘Everyone can join the worldwide conversation? Awesome; now let’s put our heads together “For the People.”’ Or Take Alexa. O’s story wasn’t and isn’t, ‘We have the best sex toys and porn.’ It’s, ‘We’re evolved enough as a people that we deserve a new standard and a new understanding of freedom.’ And don’t even get me started on what Rachel pulled off with the NAU itself.”
 

That got Noah’s attention. His head flicked toward Iggy, still smiling his idiot’s smile.
 

“Come on, Noah. Enterprise and Directorate? Rachel’s own sons moving up each of those party’s ranks? Don’t tell me that doesn’t seem convenient.
And
beneficial to Ryan Enterprises, among other things.”
 

Pieces of a vast puzzle were sliding into place inside Noah’s mind. He’d always wondered why Iggy was part of Panel, regardless of the empires he’d built. Noah liked the man, but his talents had always seemed peripheral, central to nothing. Now he was seeing something he’d been blind to before.
 

“Did you have something to do with For the People’s PR? Or O’s? Or…Rachel’s?”
 

“You tell me, Noah. You’re the one who asked if you could pick my brain.”
 

Noah’s head cocked, more pieces slotting into place.
 

Before he could speak, Iggy smiled and said, “Or maybe it wasn’t actually
your
idea after all.”

“What’s in this for you, Iggy?”
 

The tall man shrugged playfully, his faux-serious demeanor evaporating in an instant. “I get to change the world. Not many people get to do that.”
 

“So what’s my story?”
 

Iggy became thoughtful. He moved to a chair and sat on its arm. One long finger went to his chin.
 

“What you said before,” he began. “About being a digital being?”
 

Noah nodded.
 

“You were talking about how a person would have to leave the physical world to enter the digital one. To die.”
 

“That’s the idea behind Mindbender. Copying minds to digital form, so people could still live after their body dies.”
 

“As a brain in a vat,” Iggy said.
 

“With the new network, it’s a bit more than that.”
 

“With whatever is next.”
 

Noah nodded again. “Crossbrace won’t support anything like it. It’d only be bandwidth on Crossbrace. There’s nothing emergent there, so there’d be no
room
for emergence. No precedence.”