Jump 255 - Multireal Part 23

26.

Jara surveyed the list of the fiefcorp's high-priority issues. She had inscribed each item on a virtual block and used the blocks to form a giant skeletal structure on Beril a's couch. It looked disconcertingly like a vulture.

The a.n.a.lyst reached out and caressed a block near the vulture's feet. RETURN HOME, it read.

I'm tired of this f.u.c.king room, she thought, casting spiteful glances at the rococo furniture in the study. I'm tired of Beril a. I'm tired of hanging out in the hal ways with al the servants staring at us. She tuned the window to the front gates and the smal pack of drudges stil holding camp there. Just keep Len Borda out of here until Margaret's funeral, she thought. Just two more days. And then we can al go home. She pinched the corner of the block between her index finger and thumb, then dragged it down to the base of the structure, upgrading it to priority one. The remaining blocks silently cascaded into new positions.

Jara arose from the couch and forced herself to make one more trip to the great room.

n.o.body in the fiefcorp was quite ready to abandon s.h.i.+p-not yet-but the failed press conference had certainly sprung new leaks in their confidence.

Merri was going out of her way to avoid everyone; Benyamin's glower could be sensed from rooms away; Horvil seemed more distant and distractible than ever; and Serr Vigal was reduced to drifting about like an empty bottle on a windless sea.

Horvil was the only one in the great room. He was idling on a sofa, reading Primo's reports with programming bar in hand. Jara suddenly realized that she had never thought to ask where everyone else had been camping these past few nights. Horvil and Ben already had rooms in the estate, of course, but what about Merri and Vigal? She supposed they must have claimed a spare nook somewhere.

"So how bad is it?" Jara asked, settling on the chair with the fleurde-lis motif carved into its back. "Where are we on Primo's?"

Horvil let his eyebrows float slowly northward. "Last time I checked? Two hundred thirty-something."

"Two hundred thirty-!" Jara couldn't even finish her exclamation.

"Primo's moves fast," said the engineer, his face displaying total unconcern. "We haven't launched anything since ... since ... wel , I don't know when.

Back before we took on MultiReal, I guess. The surprising thing is that we stil rank at al .

We sold al the products that got us to number one. So we should be off the charts altogether." He twirled his programming bar in the air like a majorette and whistled.

Jara took a minute to study the engineer. Horvil was persevering under exceedingly difficult conditions, and he was doing it with a smile on his face. If anything, he seemed more grounded now than before this whole MultiReal crisis started.

Who else could claim that? Certainly not Natch. Certainly not Jara.

"So what are the other fiefcorps up to?" said Jara after a moment.

"Wel , you know Pierre Loget and Bil y Sterno have gone AWOL, and the Patels aren't paying much attention to the ratings either. Counting Natch, that makes four of the Primo's top ten suddenly gone. People are sensing this is the time to make a move. It's a land grab out there."

"Loget and Sterno ... where are they?"

Horvil threw his hands up high, almost sending his programming bar into the ceiling.

"Ridglee thinks they're on Patronel . Or Al owel . Can't remember which."

"Wel , that's Ridglee. He probably thinks we're on Al owel . I wonder what they're up to."

Benyamin happened to be returning from the kitchen at that moment, sandwich in hand.

"It doesn't real y matter what those guys are up to," he said.

"The question is, what's Natch up to?"

Jara nodded. It was the big variable in her calculations, the unknown that could torpedo al her plans. They could be performing miracles here in London, but that would al come to naught if Natch was working at cross-purposes--or, perfection postponed, actual y sabotaging them. Robby Robby had promised to alert the fiefcorpers if he heard anything, and Horvil had put some feelers out to his engineering contacts. So far, nothing. The best they could tel , the entrepreneur remained sequestered at his Shenandoah apartment, accessing MultiReal from time to time but not modifying it.

Jara knew this charade could only last so long. Already Robby was growing suspicious, and the drudges were making progressively wilder accusations. Pretending that the fiefcorp was stil working together in harmony undermined Jara's whole effort to remake the company's image. Sooner or later, they would have to admit publicly that Natch had abandoned the fiefcorp, and they would have to concoct some plausible story to explain it.

Ben took an angry bite of his sandwich and ground it to a pulp with his molars. "Do you think we should ... cut Natch off from the MultiReal databases?"

Horvil gave his cousin a stunned look. "What would that accomplish?"

"It would keep him from doing something irretrievably stupid, that's what."

"I'm not sure you appreciate-"

Jara cut him off. "It's a moot point," she said. "I've already tried."

Horvil simply stared at her.

The a.n.a.lyst sighed and kicked at a scrunched-up section of the Persian rug caused by s.h.i.+fting furniture. "Don't give me that look, Horv-I just wanted to see if we could lock him out. Turns out we can't. The Data Sea says he shouldn't be able to access the program, but he's getting in there anyway. I even tried moving the MultiReal databases to another location. Remember Horvil's calculation? The chances of him finding those databases are practical y nilbut it's not even slowing him down. There's no explanation for it that I can think of."

Horvil grimaced. "I think I know the explanation."

"What?" said Jara, eyebrows arched.

The engineer explained to them about the rogue MultiReal code lurking in Natch's neural system and Natch's futile attempts to remove it. "That must be what the code is," he continued. "A back door. A way of tying him to the databases and circ.u.mnavigating the standard Data Sea access controls."

"How's that even possible?" objected Benyamin through bits of lettuce and cheese.

"Wel , who created MultiReal?"

"Margaret Surina."

"And who invented the Data Sea access controls?"

"Sheldon Surina. Or maybe it was Prengal. One of the Surinas, at any rate."

Horvil extended an empty hand into the air as if to say, Case closed.

The question of what Natch was doing haunted Jara the rest of the day and into the night.

Had Natch managed to get his meeting with Khann Frejohr?

Was Natch cooking up some ruinous plan that would destroy everything Jara was fighting for? He had already duped her too many times to count.

Despite everything she knew about Natch, she had actual y believed he had made a sacrifice by handing her core access to MultiReal. He must have known already that it would make little difference. What other deceptions did he have in store?

Anch.o.r.ed by doubt, Jara couldn't seem to launch herself in motion. Meanwhile, the fiefcorpers spent hours drifting through the estate, conducting aimless MultiReal experiments that had little bearing on their business. That night, Natch visited Jara's dreams and did a slow striptease for her, only to reveal the smooth, s.e.xless torso of a marionette underneath his clothes.

You can't keep this up, thought Jara. Go ahead and do something, for f.u.c.k's sake.

So Jara yanked herself out of bed the next morning at an indus trious hour when the sun was just a faint red smudge in the east. She fetched a bracing cup of nitro, sat back in her makes.h.i.+ft desk, and spent an hour absorbing the drudge vibes from Sor, Ridglee, and Vertiginous. Something resembling the old electricity began to spark in her fingertips. By the time Vigal came tottering past the door in search of his morning tea, the a.n.a.lyst had already hurled a score of messages onto the Data Sea and made half a dozen appointments.

Jara sat back and al owed herself a slight smile. The anonymous ancient Britons on the wal regarded her with approval from beneath their ridiculous epaulets and bra.s.s b.u.t.tons. She stared back at them, wondering who they were.

Only one more day until Margaret's funeral, Jara thought. After that, those drudges wil be gone, and Magan Kai Lee wil be here looking for answers.

This fiefcorp has got to be ready.

The purple bottle had finger-sized grooves that would have been more at home on the grip of a dartgun than on a commercial beverage sold at sporting events.

"Go ahead, squeeze it," said Petrucio Patel with a mild grin.

Jara eyed the container skeptical y as if it might jump up and bite her. She squeezed, causing the bottle to give way under pressure and coagulate into the jagged lightning-bolt symbol of ChaiQuoke. The cloudy liquid inside bubbled like molten lava.

"Not just flexible gla.s.s," said Petrucio. "Ultra flexible gla.s.s. Final y cheap enough to ma.s.s produce. Pretty impressive, eh?"

Jara managed a half-smile. "Sure, I guess."

"I tel you, we could al learn a thing or two from those ChaiQuoke marketing people,"

said the programmer. He took the bottle from Jara's hand and began enthusiastical y molding it into a variety of obscure and occasional y obscene shapes. "They real y know how to invigorate a brand ident.i.ty over there. Xi Xong got a look at their new spring campaign and it's just bril iant, bril iant."

The a.n.a.lyst nodded, wondering how long she could keep up this pantomime of politeness before she grabbed the ChaiQuoke bottle and started bludgeoning Petrucio over the head with it. Here in this meeting s.p.a.ce within the bowels of the Kordez Tha.s.sel Complex, she couldn't distract herself with the surroundings either. The curved chrome wal s and semireflective table might have been designed by some government task force for unimaginative SeeNaRee. Jara found herself casting sympathetic side glances at the boorish Frederic Patel, who seemed just as exasperated with his brother's prattling but was nowhere near as proficient at hiding it.

"So I suppose you're wondering why we're sitting here," said Jara final y, when Petrucio's shtick had lurched to a halt.

The Patel brothers gave each other opaque looks across the table. "Of course," said Petrucio. "But I'm not sure I real y want to know, to tel the truth."

"Funny you should mention truth," said Jara, inhaling deeply. "It's truth that brings me out here. Fairness. Justice."

Petrucio rol ed his eyes. "So I guess Natch told you that I pledged to Creed Objectivv,"

he said, seeming irritated but not particularly surprised. "I didn't real y want everybody from here to Furtoid to know about it."

Jara leaned forward and placed her hands on the table, palms down. "The Defense and Wel ness Council is trying to destroy our business, 'Trucio.

They're going around intimidating our friends and business partners. We need to take a stand against this. We al doeveryone in the bio/logics industry.

We need to show Len Borda and Magan Kai Lee that they can't just get away with this."

Frederic chewed his nails apathetical y. Petrucio's face had dissolved back into the normal vacant smile. "And how dwe al ' do that?" said Petrucio.

"You can do your part," said Jara, shoring up her foundering courage as best she could, "by testifying to the Creeds Coalition on Merri's behalf. Help her get reinstated as an Objectivv and clear up this nonsense about her pledging under false pretenses. I don't know what lies the Blade has been spreading around, but-"

"Please, Jara. Please." The elder Patel vented his frustration with a vigorous tug of his mustache. "Stop mangling the creed philosophy. It's just painful.

You're almost as bad as him." He indicated the portly Frederic with a hitch of his thumb, causing Frederic to erupt into a toothy grin. "The Bodhisattva's definition of truth has nothing to do with fairness or justice. They're entirely different concepts. The Bodhisattva said that truth is as heavy as a club and as sharp as a knife. I pledged to tel the truth, but that doesn't mean I have to go around spreading peace and love. I'm under no obligation to spread truths that negatively impact my business."

"But we're talking about another Objectivv devotee here," protested Jara. "It doesn't bother you that she's been suspended from the creed because of a lie?"

Petrucio shook his head. "I don't care for Merri. She's too pious. It gets irritating after a while."

Jara removed her hands from the table, sat back, and rubbed her haunches. Her raised eyebrows asked the question So what does that have to do with anything?

Frederic was thumping his fingers on the tabletop, a mad pianist practicing scales in a discordant key. "Don't forget, there's two Patels in this fiefcorp," he said. "Maybe Merri's suspension from the creed works to our advantage.

Maybe we like seeing your company go under. Ever think of that?"

"In the short term, sure," replied Jara without missing a beat. "For the next few months, you'l have al the momentum. But come on, fol ow the logic, Frederic. You don't have to be clairvoyant to see what happens if the Surina/Natch MultiReal Fiefcorp goes under. Len Borda wil sic the Meme Cooperative on you too."

"Doubt it," grunted Frederic. "We got plenty of protection from the Meme Cooperative."

"But do you have protection against an army with white robes and dartguns?"

The younger Patel's protest withered and died on his lips.

Petrucio gave his bottle of ChaiQuoke a dexterous double-squeeze, causing it to form the shape of an arrow. He held it before him and aimed the tip at Jara's nose. "So answer me one question," he said slyly. "What do you think Natch would do if the tables were turned?"

"For process' preservation," snapped Jara, her patience a brittle vessel with deepening cracks. "Do I even need to answer that? He wouldn't help you, not in a mil ion years." She took a deep breath and decided to just take that perilous leap before she lost her nerve. "But Natch isn't in charge of the fiefcorp anymore, 'Trucio. I am. Natch has left the company for good. And in case you haven't noticed, I'm not him."

Neither Patel appeared particularly surprised at Jara's declaration. In fact, something about her statement struck Frederic as humorous. His nose emitted a shril whistle of amus.e.m.e.nt. "I think I'm starting to like this woman," he said.

"Good," said Jara, turning to face the younger, fles.h.i.+er Patel. "Because I have something to ask you too. I want you to stand up for Horvil in front of the Bio/Logic Engineering Board next week. I want your help clearing his name and getting his credentials restored."

Frederic seemed much more amenable to this suggestion. "Now what they did to Horvil, that's a real shame," he said, chin balanced on one hand.

"Everyone knows Horvil does good work. He was framed, plain and simple. If he wasn't working for that a.s.shole-"

"He's not," Jara retorted. "Let me say this one more time. Horvil doesn't work for Natch.

He works for me." She furrowed her brow and clasped her fingers together on the table, careful not to make it seem like a gesture of supplication.

She fired up Earnest Xpression 35 and dialed it to a low setting.

"Listen. Both of you. I'm not asking you to give up your business. Al I'm asking is that, as a personal favor to me, you go to Melbourne in person and make a couple of quick statements. Merri has integrity; I've never seen her lie, the charges against her are obviously untrue. Horvil's one of the best biol ogic engineers in the business; he was framed. It'l take you a few hours, and I'l pay for the hoverbird fare. We'l both get good publicity out of it.

"Come on, Frederic ... Petrucio ... I don't know what kind of arrangement you made with the Defense and Wel ness Council. But this is a brand-new world. Margaret's gone. Natch is out of the picture. I'm running the Surina/Natch MultiReal Fiefcorp now. It's just our two companies in the MultiReal s.p.a.ce, and we don't have to play by the old rules anymore. Sixty bil ion potential customers. We don't need to go at each other with guns blazing al the time."

The Patels sat quietly for a few minutes, engaged in an urgent ConfidentialWhisper discussion. Frederic's finger pounding grew in intensity, while Petrucio gripped the ends of his mustache with great ferocity. Final y she could see the two come to some sort of consensus. Jara looked into Petrucio's eyes and tried to pa.r.s.e his thoughts. Was he gearing up to employ the patented pretzel logic of the Creed Objective truthtel er, twisting some minor fabrication until it resembled truth?

"I'm sorry, Jara," the elder Patel said final y. "We can't do it." There was no artifice in his expression; he real y did look sorry, and Frederic did too to a lesser extent.

The a.n.a.lyst summoned her most desperate stare and concentrated on the ChaiQuoke bottle for a moment. "You don't understand how badly we need this,"

she said.

"I understand," said Petrucio. "I'm sympathetic. I real y am. But we can't just do something like this as a personal favor."

Jara ruminated on this for a minute, her legs twitching with irritation. "What if I put something else on the table?"