Deep Yellow (32 page)

"Anything
untoward?"

"Wheel tracks. The
high-spectrum camera showed wheel tracks from the corridor into his
office. It could be a safety bot which regularly visit all the
offices."

"Anyone not where they
should be?"

"No, all working on
the Challenge. The technical monitoring office was busy, but
everyone was there."

"Technician 22?"

"At his console at the
time of death."

"And the Twins?"

"In their office, with
their four odd assistants. Sir."

"Good work, Scrivvens.
When all this is over, I will update your personal record. Thank
you."

Brune took a few more
sips. Key people all in their places, nothing to suggest holos
used. The safety bots were similar to the cleaner bots that look
after the inmates’ cells. He sat back and checked the current
situation in the Challenge. Brell had found some intox. Brune shook
his head and went back to reading his guidelines.

***

Brell sat staring into
the computer. Meren had hidden the bottles of whisky and positioned
herself purposefully in front of the auto chef.

"
The Obelisk and
the King are here. Look under the Tower, then for une
chemise
,
"
Brell said aloud and examined the words
again.

"Make any sense?"
Meren said.

"There is something in
the back of my mind, but I can't recall it. Let's have a look."

Brell started pressing
buttons, reminding herself about the language they were using. It
became easier just to type in parts of clue words and the holo
world locations.

"Can I at least have a
drink?"

Meren ordered a hot
coffee milk drink and plonked in front of Brell. She took a sip and
curled her lip at Meren. Back to the screen.

"Well, each of the
worlds has an obelisk of sorts, a reference to a King, a tower, and
une chemise
, need to look that up." Brell said.

"What's best? Start in
this place and work our way into the other locations?" Meren
said.

“I wouldn't put it
past Williams pulling some tricks like altering the countdown or
sending in someone to chase us. Let's go through it again. The
obelisk."

Brell worked away,
bringing up images, text, and historical reference materials.

"Okay. Here, most of
them have an obelisk of sorts. Washington, Paris, copy of one in
Las Vegas, Bangkok, all of them. The fancy tall building here in
San Francisco is sometimes called an obelisk. Paris has an obelisk
from ancient times whilst the one in Washington is very tall, but
not as old.”

"Let's look at King.
There are people with that name, like Martin, or they had a king as
a ruler, like Paris with Louie. Bangkok also has a monarchy. Moscow
shot theirs. There is a tower here in San Francisco, it's on top of
a hill, saw it from the bridge. All places have large metal towers
of one sort or another. The clue is open to interpretation. I
think."

Meren sat and watched
Brell's screen, the images not making not making much sense to her.
Stopping for a moment, Brell held her fingers above the keyboard
and stared at the wall.

"Okay?" Meren
said.

"There is something I
am trying to remember, but can't connect with it. Perhaps I need
more whisky."

"So, Paris has the
oldest obelisk and tower, and they had a king," Meren said, moving
the subject off intox.

"Hold on." Brell
drained her coffee drink. "The theme involves prisons and
executions, right? Williams loves that angle, doesn't he? Well,
Paris had a large prison where they interred people, including the
king and queen, before taking them off for execution by beheading.
The site would be near where an obelisk is now. They also have a
unique large metal tower. Rome, The Tower, Paris, all places of
Inhab-47 history. Blood and gore. Death. Murderers. Us!” Brell
rubbed her chin continuing with her thoughts.

"It fits in with all
the other challenges. We should go there first.
Une chemise
must be a clue to the exit. It is from a language used in Paris. It
means, got it, this is so slow, here we are, it means a shirt, one
shirt. There are shirt sellers near the tower and cafes."

Brell used an image
manipulator to zoom images of the big metal tower, becoming used to
the basic nature of the programming.

"Well, it looks like
the clue points there. What other choice do we have?" Meren
said.

"None. Time for a
whisky." Brell said lowering her voice, and sauntering over to the
auto chef. Meren just shook her head.

The auto chef went
into action and Brell took a swift glug.

"Lovely. It's good for
me, medicinal." Brell said, glancing out of the window. "Of course
we keep saying we, Meren. How is this going to end?"

She stared at Meren,
who looked down.

"It's the part that I
didn't want to think about. I mean, are you going to hit me or
something and run off? Or should I go away?” Meren said.

"Well, you're good at
hitting people, so I should watch out for you."

Meren stared across
the room, making no reply.

"Did you see anything,
clue-wise, before seeing me in the vehicle?" Brell said, wiping her
nose and changing the subject.

"No. I walked down the
pier. Carac started chasing me into a building, but I ran out
through an exit door." She laughed. "Then I hid in the crowd
amongst some bald-headed revellers."

"Look, for a
bald-headed nun supposedly just meditating all day long, you don't
do too badly for yourself."

Meren smiled, reached
over, and held Brell's hand.

"I cannot explain
everything. It has all been a rush, like going from silence to loud
3D music. Touching was not allowed in the Sanctuary. Some older
nuns would put an arm on my shoulder when no one was looking, but
holding a hand like this would have meant a penalty, like no
afternoon sewing circle." Meren maintained eye contact. "I am glad
to have spent some time with you." She let Brell's hand go.

"Two things. That's
the most you've said in one go, and sewing circle?"

"Yes, the sewing
circle was where I could gossip for an hour."

Meren stopped talking
and started laughing, her shoulders lifting. Brell briefly touched
Meren’s arm and smiled. She then took another swig of whisky. Meren
went over to the window and bent down to see the countdown
timer.

"Look, we both don't
want Carac to win, so how about we get to Paris, find the key, take
it from there and enjoy ourselves, if that is possible?" Brell
said, holding the cup near to her lips.

"Okay." Meren said.
She ran a hand over her smooth head.

"We need a plan and
another whisky," Brell said, then nodded. "Clothes change for a
start, put Carac off the scent. Then travel separately to the pier,
over the bridge and to the prison. Carac will probably be waiting
for us by the bridge. Get to the Living Room, and then through the
Paris door. If we lose each other, meet up at the large metal
tower. How's that?"

"As long as I can
drive," Meren said. Brell laughed.

"Right. Clothes
first." Brell emptied her glass and walked towards the door with a
slight wobble in her stride.

"Let's have a looky
outside. Shh." She held her fingers to her lips. Opening the door a
fraction, she glanced up and down the corridor. Some couples were
walking past.

"No. Soft holo. No.
Not wearing that. Yes, here we are, come on Meren."

Meren reluctantly
followed Brell out into the corridor. A male and female walked
towards them. Both were casually dressed in a similar style to that
of many Inhab-47 people.

"Hi, hey, you two.
Where is your room?"

The two holos stopped.
Brell touched the lapel of the man's jacket; it was made of real
cloth.

"Room 222," the female
holo said.

"We need your
clothes."

"Room 222," she said
again.

Brell grabbed the male
by the back of his arm and pushed him towards the room. Meren did
the same with the female, but clearly appeared uncomfortable.

"They are only hard
holos," Brell said over her shoulder as she pushed the male into
the room.

"Yes, but they are
image copies of real people."

"Hey, we are hours
from becoming ash and you're worried about hurting a holo."

Meren shut and bolted
the door. The two holos stood silently in the middle of the
room.

"Probably on some
predefined loop, so in a while they may start trying to walk out of
here back onto their path. Get their clothes off."

Brell started
stripping the man. Starting with his jacket, tie, shirt, and then
the trousers.

"It's a long time
since I have done this for real," Brell said, smiling.

Meren gingerly took
off the female's blouse. The two holos continued to stand,
unmoving, staring ahead.

Brell pulled his
trousers down, revealing his legs. She tapped one of them and it
made a plastic, hollow noise.

"See, not real, just a
type of plastic."

Brell giggled and
laughed even more as she saw Meren pulling the females dress down.
Soon both holos were just standing in their underpants.

"Think they will
fit?"

"There's only one way
to find out." Brell whipped off her clothes, stood in her underwear
for a while then put on the shirt, jacket, and trousers.

"Not bad," Meren said
"pull the belt in a bit."

Meren put on the
blouse and knee length skirt.

"Wow what a difference
Meren. You've got legs. When was the last time you dressed like
that?"

"Before Jayzan
initiation," Meren said slowly. She wiped around her eyes with her
fingers. "Long time ago."

"You need a hat. The
bald head is a little, you know."

"Not Inhab-47
enough?"

"Exactly."

"Blue skin?" Meren
said.

"Well spotted," Brell
said.

Meren continued to
look at herself in the mirror, whilst Brell got another whisky in
celebration of the clothing change.

"Room 222," The female
holo said and started walking towards the door.

"Hang on," Brell said,
"I've got an idea." A slight slur in her words.

Carac tried his best with the basic computer,
but the screen was small, the images grainy, and he his eyes were
squinting. He had found a small cafe with a good view of the bridge
and some research computers. After pushing and pulling the tables
around, he sat down to read the screens whilst keeping a lookout.
Having ordered plain water and a small clear intox chaser, he
settled himself down.

He slowly typed in the
clue words and world names, copying the words directly from the
written clue. Frustratingly, various images and references were
displayed that could relate to all the worlds. An image search
showed some alien men wearing plain shirts. There was a tower in
San Francisco though, and a man named King. What if the real key
was there and Brell had it already in her pocket? He could not
rationalise that. The influence of the Tinker would not let that
happen, surely.

Perhaps something to
eat? See if the auto chef could create some proper food. There were
some food images on the walls.

"Beef burger." The
auto chef chugged away. Carac bit into the burger and threw the
plate across the room.

"What is this
crap?”

He tried again.
"Vegetables, cooked lightly. Milk flavoured drink."

Bit better, he mused
whilst munching on a carrot. He thought back to those times in
prison when he could obtain fine meals and wines. Having finished
most of the meal and the milk drink, he tossed the plate over at
some holos sitting at another table.

"Hello," one of them
said, their face briefly smiling before going back to eating their
meal. Carac grabbed the holo and threw it to the ground. Using his
feet and hands, he tugged the sweatshirt over its head and put it
on. At least it would detract the eye from the prison uniform, for
the time being. What the wording, “Alcatraz, Swim Team” on the
front referred to, he neither knew nor cared.

Glancing out the
window, he considered his options. Check out the San Francisco
tower himself in one of those transporters or wait for Brell, the
nun, or the Tinker? He bent his head and glanced up at the
timer.

***

Should we send
security bots to the hotel?
The Twins had asked.

Will put them in
standby mode. Carac may make a move soon. Will hold back and follow
his actions for now.

Technician 22 returned
to his attempts at finding the key locations. Williams must have
used a scanner shield. The viewer's data zaps were useful, and it
became evident that Paris was becoming the popular choice, with
Moscow at the bottom. He concentrated on Paris.

***

"You don’t get it
Meren, it gives me courage and makes me forget."

"Forget what? You’ve
been in prison long enough to forget everything."

"You may be able to
put things out of your mind with your meditation and fancy-dancy
religion. Everything’s perfect in your world."

"You are losing
control. No one is going to come down, stop the challenge and take
you back home to a nice quiet life. This is it, unless we do
something, we will die here." Meren said, slightly raising her
voice.

"Sound like my mother.
At least I’ll go out having fun, by myself, not stuck in some cell.
I was going to take termination next year anyway. May as well go
out on my terms. My terms," Brell said, wiping tear streaks from
her face with her left hand whilst sipping whisky from a cup in her
right.

"Is this is how you
want to end it all? Being drunk?"

Brell pointed her
finger towards Meren, stumbled forward, tripped over her own feet,
and fell on the floor in a heap. Slowly, she got onto her knees and
crawled along the floor. After a couple of attempts, she managed to
stand up, heavily supporting herself on the edge of the kitchenette
counter.