Part 26 (1/2)

Jara al owed herself a smile. ”Glad you could come,” she told the channeler, and for once she meant it. If anyone knew how to whip up a dish of false confidence for the drudges, politicians, and pundits awaiting them, it was Robby. The fact that he had taken several days out of his schedule to come to Melbourne spoke volumes about his faith in the cause. The channeler took a seat next to Merri as the train got under way again. Soon he had sucked the fiefcorp apprentices into a low-stakes game of holo poker.

Jara found an empty section of train and tried to prepare a statement for her Prime Committee testimony, but it was hopeless. What did she have to say about MultiReal that hadn't been said a thousand times already? It was a powerful and potential y dangerous program. It could make her fiefcorp a lot of money. Didn't the whole world already know this? Jara stared glumly at the changing landscape, writing nothing, and hoped the Committee wouldn't actual y need her testimony after al .

As for Serr Vigal-what was he thinking? Jara had no doubt the neural programmer's heart was in the right place. She had no doubt his opening statement before the Committee would be cogent and foursquare and thoroughly respectable. But Vigal just did not possess the gift of oratory. His politics were moderate. Having him usher in the libertarian side of the MultiReal debate with one of his dry, meandering speeches was an unmistakably bad idea.

But who else is there? thought the a.n.a.lyst. Who else is going to stand up before ten bil ion people and testify that MultiReal belongs in Natch's hands?

There was Khann Frejohr, of course, except Frejohr had thoroughly rebuffed Serr Vigal's overtures. Jara wondered what Natch had done to antagonize him. She figured it had something to do with that obviously forged Council memo, but she decided she didn't want to know. She had already seen enough low-level forgery to last her a lifetime.

It only took Natch a week to make a powerful al y, use him, and then toss him aside, she thought, shaking her head. That must be a new record.

The track from Cape Town to Melbourne was one long stretch of undifferentiated seascape, punctuated by the occasional pit stop on dry land or artificial crossroads. Waves, sun, sky.

Jara didn't remember fal ing asleep, but suddenly she was being woken by a gentle hand on her shoulder. Horvil. ”I thought you might want to see this,”

said the engineer.

The a.n.a.lyst sat up and rubbed her eyes. ”Thought I'd want to see wha-”

Then she looked out the window.

The city of Melbourne lay sprawled out below them, a tapestry of neatly arranged buildings and flickering lights. The tube train sat suspended on a ridiculously high track over Port Phil ip Bay, like a rol er coaster of old, watching the city slide graceful y into dusk. Jara remembered reading about this; some arcane procedure involving military security, or underwater transfer conduits, or something. Many believed it was just a ruse by the Melbourne L- PRACGs to impress visitors with the majesty of the centralized government. Jara could buy that. From this angle, the city looked so orderly, so perpendicular with purpose, it might have been careful y laid there by some omnipotent force in an era long before human confusion.

Then the tube abruptly plunged into Melbourne at breakneck speed, and the il usion was shattered. The train came to a stop some five minutes later.

By the time Jara shouldered her bag and made it off the train, the rest of the fiefcorp was already waiting-as was a group of handlers in garish purpleand-red robes, courtesy of Creed Elan. Horvil and Benyamin seemed right at home in their midst. One of the men took Jara's bag with a deep, respectful bow, as if she had entrusted him with crown jewels rather than a few changes of clothing and a.s.sorted toiletries.

”Don't suppose anybody brought a thermos of nitro,” grumbled the a.n.a.lyst with a yawn.

”There's plenty at the hostel,” replied one of the creed handlers. ”Lo-grade, hi-grade, you name it.”

Jara nodded. ”Then what are we waiting for?”

The purple delegation led the fiefcorpers through a vast maze of bureaucratic buildings, each more stodgy and architectural y unimaginative than the last. They pa.s.sed the headquarters for OrbiCo, TeleCo, and GravCo, the offices of major lobbying firms and political parties, the Meme Cooperative's lone Earthside presence, creed bureaus, and drudge organizations.

There was something strange and out-of-place about the cityscape that Jara could sense but not name. Merri saw her perplexed look. ”You notice it too?”

she asked.

”I notice something,” said Jara. ”I'm just not sure what.”

”The buildings-they're not moving.”

That was it. Melbourne's governmental quarter was entirely devoid of col apsible buildings. At this hour, most downtowns would be exhibiting a conspicuous ripple as the skyline rearranged itself for the night s.h.i.+ft. Melbourne did not budge. If Jara didn't know for a fact that the city had been substantial y rebuilt after the riots of 318, she might have guessed it had been permanently frozen right before the Autonomous Revolt.

”Government buildings that don't move,” said Horvil. ”There's a metaphor if I've ever seen one.”

Robby Robby's grin widened by a few degrees.

Jara felt the mental tug of an incoming ConfidentialWhisper. ”Don't look now,” said Ben, sounding clipped and nervous, ”but I think we're being fol owed.”

The a.n.a.lyst counted to ten, then took a casual glance around. The streets were crowded with security officers from a hundred different organizations striding this way and that, guarding every solid structure in sight. Pedestrians added a thousand more organizational insignias to the mix. Everyone in Melbourne, it seemed, had some kind of parliamentary affiliation.

And then she noticed them. Minions of the Defense and Wel ness Council on every corner, fol owing the fiefcorp's progress with great interest.

Whenever the fiefcorpers lost sight of one group, another would inevitably turn up on the next block to track them.

Before Jara could formulate a coherent reaction, they came to a culde-sac and pa.s.sed through an immense set of double doors-the Creed Elan hostel.

The place hardly fit Jara's definition of a hostel at al ; it was enormous, richly furnished, and teeming with important-looking men and women in purple.

Jara felt like she was back at Beril a's estate. The handlers who had met them at the tube station deposited their bags in a parlor fit for a high executive.

Rugs and viewscreens obscured every surface, while flasks of wine sat on countertops for the taking. Benyamin ducked down the hal to pay his respects to the hostel administrator. Jara, meanwhile, found a thermos of piping nitro and began fil ing up a mug.

Merri sunk into a plush suede couch. ”So does anyone know where Natch is staying?” she asked. n.o.body answered. ”Horvil?”

The engineer shrugged. ”You know as much as I do,” he said. ”Natch hasn't shown his face in public for almost a week, and you al saw how strange he looked at the funeral. I don't know if he's up to testifying before the Prime Committee.

Maybe ... maybe they won't actual y cal him after al .”

”Sure they wil ,” said Robby, kicking off his shoes to reveal ten huge prehensile toes.

”Natch is a symbol now. The libertarians are ral ying around him.

This unrest won't stop until he gets his say in front of the Committee.”

”What about Vigal?” said Jara. ”Where's he staying?”

Horvil: ”With Natch, I presume.”

”Do you think they're going to cal on any of us to testify?” asked Merri.

Robby shrugged. ”Anything's possible,” he said, channeler-speak for no. He tucked his shoes under his arms and disappeared down the hal , presumably to freshen up.

”Who knows what they're going to do,” said Horvil, taking a seat backward on a desk chair. ”When was the last time the Prime Com mittee held a special session like this? n.o.body even remembers the protocol anymore.”

Merri craned her neck to face the engineer. ”What is the protocol?”

”No idea. I don't know if there even is one. My guess is they'l just use some fancy version of Let's cal people up to testify until we've heard enough.

Ben's the one to ask about this stuff, not me.” He stretched and groaned. ”I just want this to be over already. I'm sick of the politics. I'm sick of the infoquakes. I'm sick of looking over my shoulder and seeing white robes everywhere. I just want to get back to the b.l.o.o.d.y engineering.”

Jara downed her second straight mug of nitro and took a seat in the corner. ”If you don't want to see white robes, you're in the wrong place. Ben saw a bunch of them fol owing us on the way here.”

Benyamin returned at just that moment, his face pale as milk. ”No,” he said, his voice cracking. ”That's not what I was tel ing you, Jara. Didn't you see?