Binary Read online

  ‘Do I believe that she wants me on her private stream, or popping by the office? That she mortifies herself nightly over what Bel’Natur did? Over what she allowed to happen to Gabriel, and Callan, and goodness knows how many others? No, no and no. She doesn’t look nearly shredded enough.’

  The big man sighed and ran a hand through his hair. It was medium length and a nondescript lightish brown. The modifications he bore were more than sufficient gemsign; his designers had correctly judged that topping them off with a jewel-coloured, phosphorescent mane would have been redundant. His double thumbs left twin furrows on either side of his head.

  ‘But is she now genuinely trying to chart a new course? She might be, Eli. She knows they can’t go back to the old days. Innovate or die, as they used to say at Recombin. Infotech has been stagnant for a long time. We are all Syndrome-safe now, gems and norms, even the Remnants. Bel’Natur might be up to exactly what she says they’re up to.’

  ‘You sound like a politician, Mik.’

  ‘Go wash your mouth out. With soap.’

  UPBRINGING

  She grows up in a city.

  They live high above the sweat and dirt and horror that haunts most of it, in the heart of the old, proud seat of empire. She is accustomed to looking out of tall windows at soaring spires and swirling domes, their fairground gaiety at odds with the blocky, bland pragmatism of the modern buildings below. She gazes at the bright temples and palaces for hours sometimes, intensely, as if she could couple her concentration to their sleeping grandeur and bring a lost world to life; and in her mind’s eye she does see the pennants and pageants that they once hosted, the great romances and golden ages and armies marching home in triumph. All her life she will love architecture that curves and sweeps and does more than merely contain.

  Her father rarely looks out of the windows. His enchantment is reserved only for her, and she sometimes wishes she could interest him elsewhere, become less the laser-sharp focus of all his days. But she is his light and his life, he tells her, his greatest achievement and the only one which will matter in the end. Outside is only grief and despair and the slow degradation of all else he has treasured. He seems not to share her ability to unhear the moans of the afflicted and wails of the bereaved, to unsee the smoke that rises from a thousand thousand cremations. He worries endlessly about the emptiness of the world in which she will one day have to make her way, about how she will cope and whether she can be happy. To be the only precious child of a rich and powerful man guarantees little in this latter, desolate age.

  She knows that he is among those battling against the plague, and that though they may have the answer now to the disease’s vicious question, victory is still far from certain. They have lost so much ground. So few remain to fight. He is one of the rare ones able to protect his own, and he has bequeathed the armour of immunity to her.

  It is not his only gift.

  4

  The park was already very full. Eli and Mikal headed for the bandstand. Heads turned as they went past, but the looks and half-overheard comments all seemed friendly enough as they skirted the families and couples spreading bioweave blankets and unpacking picnics. Children chased each other between the little encampments, shrieking with delight.

  As usual the majority of the kids appeared to be norms, although this could be deceptive. It was not uncommon for naturally conceived gem children – at any rate those healthy enough to run and play – to bear no obvious gemsign. And it had only been a few years since gems were free to have their contraceptive implants removed and to find out, with trepidation and much heartache, whether their engineered genomes would allow conception, whether the resulting foetuses would be viable, and at what cost.

  Eli stole a sideways glance at Mikal, caught him watching a gaggle of noisy five-and six-year-olds clambering over a climbing frame. His expression was hard to read; there was curiosity there, and longing, and loss. Eli looked away, not quickly enough. The giant spotted the motion and sighed.

  ‘Since you’re politely not asking, yes, we’re still trying, and no, no luck yet.’

  Eli let it sit for a moment, then said quietly, ‘You could always go in vitro.’

  ‘I know. Still no guarantee just mixing things up in a Petri dish would work, though. Unless we had them engineer us a solution.’

  ‘That’s what I meant.’

  Mikal was silent for a while. The shouts and laughter of the children were well behind them when he said, ‘Sharon is up for that, but I’m not sure I am. I really want kids, but it’d mean authorising human gemtech. On myself, my own offspring. I’m struggling with that. And if we did go ahead, what instructions would I give? We’d have to decide whether to opt for minimum interference, just enough for a healthy baby, or have them carve out all the weirdness in my genetype so our kids could have regular hands and eyes and inside leg measurements.’ He turned his hands palm up, the four thumbs mirroring each other across their broad, creased surfaces, and looked at them for a moment as though they were found things whose provenance was uncertain. He dropped them back to swing at the level of Eli’s midriff.

  ‘What’s the right thing to do there, Eli? What should I wish for my children?’

  The question hung between them. Eli had known it must be part of what Mikal and Sharon were trying to reconcile, along with many thousands of gems worldwide. Relatively few of them, though, were in mixed couples, and he hesitated before asking the obvious question.

  ‘What does Sharon think about that part?’

  ‘As close to a normal random recombination as possible would be her choice. She says she doesn’t want our kids to only look like her.’ There was a note in his voice that brought a sudden lump to Eli’s throat.

  He waited until he was sure he could trust himself. ‘For whatever it’s worth, I agree with her, Mik. There’s nothing wrong with the way you look …’

  ‘Thanks, mate, but seriously.’

  ‘I am being serious. The norm population was so homogenised by Syndrome-safety gemtech that even small variations in appearance look big to us. I know, I know,’ holding up his hands, ‘… small is not a word that applies to you, but my point is, those reactions will fade over time. They really will. And in the meantime, if you undo all the things in your genetype that make you you, what does that say to your kids?’

  ‘There is also that. So. I’m struggling.’

  They reached a gate set into the fence that separated the backstage area and were waved through, to the envious looks of clusters of fans gathered outside. All norms, Eli noticed. Lyriam’s music was hugely popular among his own people as well, but the concept of celebrity was one to which gems appeared mostly immune.

  Inside, they made their way to a clump of marquees that had sprung up like angular, oversize white mushrooms, and wandered amongst them until Mikal, peering over a biocanvas slope, said, ‘There she is,’ and led them around the corner.

  Aryel stood in a little courtyard formed by four of the white tents, talking to a young man with jet-black hair and long, elegant, seven-fingered hands. Reginald was with her, along with two ruby-haired youths who Eli recognised from their stream profiles as Rhys and Gwen. Even from a distance the girl radiated a sort of effervescent enthusiasm; he could see it in the way she leaned into the conversation and the expressive gestures of her hands as she described something. Rhys hung back, diffident and, Eli thought, a little tired-looking.

  ‘It is our conquering hero, returned from the East,’ trumpeted Mikal, and they all turned round. The black-haired man came forward laughing, and his seven fingers and Mikal’s double thumbs met in what must have been one of the world’s most complicated handclasps, before the giant pulled him into a hug. Eli busied himself shaking hands with Reginald and being introduced to the others.

  ‘At last!’ laughed Gwen. ‘I was beginning to think you weren’t really real.’ Rhys shot her an unreadable look and said quietly, ‘It’s good to finally meet you, Dr Walker.’

  Up close
his initial impressions were confirmed: the young woman had a vivacity that was infectious. It was hard not to smile in her presence, not to become interested in turn in the myriad little details of preparation going on around them that had caught her attention. Her brother was clearly the introvert of the pair, less talkative and easy, but, Eli discovered as they chatted, just as keenly observant.

  He was struck too by Reginald’s paternal affection for them; a sense of proud guardianship that might once have also been there for Aryel. But she had flown so far now that theirs had become a friendship between equals. And though much of her early life among the Remnants remained mysterious, Eli knew she had been older when she came to them.

  The three visitors appeared to have already become fast friends with Lyriam, who emerged, staggering a little for comic effect, from Mikal’s embrace. Weary though he must have been after almost a year on tour, he was as energetic and focused as ever.

  ‘Too busy to be tired,’ he said when Eli commented on this. ‘And you can’t let yourself be distracted before a performance anyway. I’ve learned that. I might fall over for a few days after tonight, but then there are things to sort out. And I want to work on some new stuff … I heard the most amazing musicians in Australia …’

  ‘D’you mean the aborigems?’ asked Gwen. ‘I listened to those links you posted, it’s wonderful, sort of …’ and she tipped her head back and let out a long, trilling series of notes, sweet and haunting.

  Lyriam said, ‘Yes, exactly, and then they do these chords,’ and he sang a low, spine-tingling ululation, his fingers keeping time along an imaginary instrument, while the hairs on the back of Eli’s neck stood up and he stared from one to the other. Reginald laughed at his expression.

  ‘They’ve been doing that all evening. Whole new conversational form. Your mate Callan,’ nodding to Aryel, ‘should write a paper.’

  They stood around chatting for a few more minutes, until Eli felt Aryel’s eyes on him, and caught the tiny sideways inclination of her head.

  They stepped away from the others. He glanced over his shoulder as they moved out of earshot.

  ‘You’d think they’ve known each other all their lives. But where’s Lyriam’s other half?’

  ‘We saw Bethany earlier, she’s somewhere about. Seems there might be a little bit of tension there at the moment.’

  ‘Really?’ He was so astounded that Aryel laughed.

  ‘I don’t suppose they’re immune. It’s been a hard trip and, you know,’ she shrugged, ‘things are changing. They’re growing up.’

  ‘I guess. Still. Have to hope the socialstreams don’t get hold of that.’

  She did not respond, which for Aryel, Eli later thought, was significant. They wandered away from the pre-performance buzz of the tents to a quiet corner where she could perch gratefully on a tree stump, the gnarled tombstone of some ancient coppice. Eli was reminded of how much energy it took for her to fly, and how little time she would have had today to rest and eat. She must be exhausted.

  She looked up at him, a sharp sky-blue gaze full of the lively intelligence that had first attracted him. There was no weariness in it.

  ‘So. Our old friend Zavcka. What did you think?’

  Straight to the point. He picked through his impressions, organising them.

  ‘I don’t think it can be a bluff, not announcing it in that way. She must really be making a play for infotech. From what I know of that industry – which isn’t much – it’s dominated by just a few big legacy players who’ve been churning out pretty much the same stuff for almost a hundred and fifty years. It’s ripe for innovation. That part makes sense.’

  She was looking at him oddly, and he realised too late that he had simply delivered his opinion without first describing the event. Oh well. So much for waiting to see if she’d tell me herself.

  He was never able to dissemble with her anyway.

  ‘I saw you there, Aryel, I know you heard for yourself what she had to say. What did you think?’

  ‘Did you? Ah. Well as far as infotech is concerned, I agree with you. I’m less convinced by her assurances around gemtech.’

  ‘I’m still trying to wrap my head around that. It’s not like she could say anything different, not these days …’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘… But she went out of her way to say quite a lot. More than it seems she needed to.’ He told her about Zavcka Klist’s exchanges with Mikal after she had left. ‘If she’s acting she’s got a lot better at it.’

  ‘So you think she’s a reformed character?’

  ‘I wouldn’t go that far.’ He thought. ‘What do we know about her from last time? That she’s pragmatic and intelligent. And devious. This is a strategy.’

  ‘Again, I agree. She’s sharp enough to know there’s no way back to the days of indenture, but it’s clear she hasn’t lost interest in us either. She wouldn’t be courting Mik like that without a reason. And there’s something else as well.’

  She fell silent, as if thinking the something else over, until Eli said, ‘She doesn’t seem quite as unshakeable as she used to. Your being there rattled her, I think, though only for a moment.’

  Aryel nodded, still musing. ‘It was meant to. I’m not going to sit politely back and wait to see what she’s up to this time.’ She shook herself, wings rustling, and flicked a glance at Eli. ‘They changed the schedule at the last minute this morning, some flunkey from the Bel’Natur press office replaced by Zavcka herself, so I knew it had to be important. But Mik was going to be there representing the city, and I thought you’d be interested given your history with her, and I knew I could rely on you both to tell me all about it. So there was really no need for me to go. And then, barely a couple of hours ago, she sent a message.’

  ‘To you? She asked you to come?’ It hadn’t looked like it.

  ‘Goodness no, and I probably wouldn’t have gone if she had. It wasn’t about her announcement, not on the face of it anyway. She sent it to Herran.’

  ‘Herran?’

  ‘Herran.’ She paused, frowning into the distance again. ‘It was from her personally, very polite and respectful. Said Bel’Natur was working on a new project that they thought would suit someone of his particular skills. Hastened to add that it wasn’t gemtech and they particularly wanted to speak to him about working with them in a senior capacity, that they were sure he would find it a good fit and very rewarding. All of her contact details attached.’

  ‘What the— Have they met Herran?’

  ‘Not recently. But don’t forget, they made him. There were cues buried in the message, command phrases she must have hoped he would still respond to. The Herran they knew was far more biddable than he is now.’

  Again that bitter shake of the head. ‘You should have seen him when he first came to us, Eli. His autism may make him seem a bit like an automaton, but he really was one then. He’d been trained to it, they’d worked out the most efficient way to get him to understand and obey orders, and it was the only way he knew how to be. Inputs and outputs. But he’d got out before the Declaration – at the time he couldn’t even tell us how – and found his way to the Squats. So we knew there had to be more to him than they knew. They’ll since have come to the same conclusion, but she probably didn’t realise he’d immediately forward her message to me. With an addendum.’

  ‘Which was?’

  ‘Aryel fix.’

  Eli shook with laughter. He could imagine the carefully crafted rhetoric Zavcka would have employed, and how annoyed she would be to have it both covered and dismissed by one of Herran’s unvarnished utterances.

  ‘Good for him. So you decided to start the fixing by letting her know that whatever she’s up to, she’s going to have to deal with you.’

  ‘Exactly.’

  ‘And do you know what she is up to, Aryel? What does she want with Herran?’

  ‘I’m not sure, but it must be connected. She was being fairly disingenuous when she said that infotech was a new
direction for Bel’Natur.’ She gazed thoughtfully back in the direction of the tents, where the ruby heads of her foster siblings twinkled next to the white mane of Reginald and the tower that was Mikal.

  ‘That expertise she was talking about wasn’t just bluster. They did lead the industry in neural engineering. What she didn’t mention was why they focused on it so much. They were trying to design gems who could be plugged in. Literally. A bioprocessor. They didn’t succeed, not in the way they intended, and the collateral damage was horrendous. But they were making progress. They’d got further than they realised. And I’m wondering if they do know, now.’

  ‘You mean Herran … ?’

  ‘Herran came out of the bioprocessor programme. The cleft palate he was born with was the result of them trying to engineer a physical neuroconnection point, but he doesn’t need one. He can read – and write – raw code. He still has to do it through a tablet, but he can interface at the binary level.’

  *

  With showtime fast approaching, Lyriam had excused himself. Aryel was still deep in conversation with Eli over in a far corner as Mikal led the way to the hospitality tent, talking to Reginald about the gillung coastal technology and how it had been adapted for the Thames. Rhys, listening idly as he and Gwen strolled behind them, and enjoying the relative quiet of several conversations reduced finally to one, was struck suddenly by the unlikelihood of this. He glanced over at his sister. Her eyes flicked across everything around them as sharply as ever, but her expression had turned thoughtful, almost brooding.

  She felt his gaze and returned it. He grunted a wordless question. She shrugged it away with a raised eyebrow and quirked lip, shifted her gaze to the ground in front of them. He waited a moment, then tried again.

  ‘Guh.’ Gwennie.

  ‘Ah?’ Clipped off, preoccupied. What?

  ‘Ah.’ Tell me.

  ‘Nuh. D’no.’ Nothing. Don’t know.

  ‘Suh. D’la?’ Something. Don’t like?

  She looked up and around at that, at the evening deepening over the tents and the murmur of the crowd on the far side of the fence.