Infinity Cage (26 page)

There was a notable absence of Roman legionaries at every entrance to the city. No blockades, as Isaac had told them there had been yesterday. Containing the numerous riots last night had stretched the Roman garrison’s manpower to breaking point. Today the cohort was mostly holed up in their fort and watching for trouble from behind the crenellations of their high walls. They were keeping a low profile; undoubtedly word had been sent out that reinforcements were going to be needed and they were going to sit tight until they arrived, then … order was going to be restored. Brutally, if necessary.

Liam and Bob left the city through the north entrance, hidden in the back of a cart beneath a rug. After the cart had rattled down the dirt track, far enough away from prying eyes, they emerged from the sweltering heat that had built up under the heavy corded material.

Liam thanked the old man driving the cart, Linus’s father. This morning they had only briefly seen his son. He and Isaac had spent the night, as promised, going from one tavern to another, spreading the word that the one true prophet from God was going to be found in the morning on the gentle slopes of the Mount of Olives … and would reveal a message that would change everything.

Liam had assured the young man that the moment he set eyes
on this Jesus … he would know in his heart he was looking at someone quite special.

‘How long have we got, Bob?’

‘Three hours and fourteen minutes until the portal is due to open.’

He looked up at the hills in front of them. They needed to head up to the brow ahead, then bear right. That would take them clockwise round the top of the city to the north-east of it, towards the Mount of Olives. He just hoped where their portal was due to open was far enough away from where Jesus would be talking to his followers.

They climbed the hill, then walked along its ridge. Liam looked at the city to his right. There were a few smudges of smoke rising from it into the sky. There had been several riots during the night, but not throughout the whole city. It was undoubtedly a tinderbox, waiting to erupt into flames of insurrection. But it was a city waiting for just the right person to ignite that fire.

And there he was.

Further downhill, where the olive trees gave way to dry grass and the slope evened out, Liam could see splashes of colour in the hundreds – a crowd of people sitting on the ground in family groups and in pairs, parents and their less attentive children chasing each other. Like a large picnic. And there, in the middle of it all, in a small space, was a lone figure in a white-linen jellaba, pacing slowly back and forth. Every now and then, carried on the fresh breeze, Liam heard applause, a ripple of laughter.

Not a firebrand’s sermon by the sound of it, all thunder and sulphur, but something far more peaceful and ultimately enduring: the gentle mockery of those in power – the Pharisees, Herod Antipas … the Romans.

Liam had glimpsed the man up close only a couple of times,
and heard his voice just the once. Jesus didn’t have the booming cadence or the bombastic manner of a practised performer. Just the measured voice of common sense. The soft and confident tone of someone who prized the meaning of words over the way they were delivered.

‘We’ve got time to listen for a bit, haven’t we, Bob?’

‘We have two hours and fifty-nine minutes until the portal is due.’

‘We’ve got time, then.’

They made their way down the slope, through the olive trees and out into the open. Liam stopped on the periphery of the gathering and, not wanting to attract anyone’s attention, he gestured at Bob to sit down. Then he listened.

‘… in this world, this one mortal life, wealth is measured not in talents, or shekels or sestertii, but in what we take with us when we finally die. Our memories, our conscience. That is all that matters in the end. Our life is measured by those we have touched, loved, helped. One who shares all that he has, and lies in a pauper’s grave, dies the wealthiest of men.’

One of those listening near the front asked a question that Liam’s babel-bud couldn’t quite pick up and translate.

‘All of us are equal in the eyes of my father,’ Jesus replied. ‘Man and woman. Old and young. There is nothing a man can do that a woman can’t.’

Liam smiled at that. He’d get Maddy’s vote, then.

‘We are all equal souls held inside bodies of different sizes and shapes. What we look like, what we sound like, or even what we
smell
like …’

A ripple of laughter.

‘… is as unimportant as the flask that a wine is carried in. The bodies we live in – our mortal existence – is just a cart travelling along the road. But our soul is the precious cargo.
King. Prince. Caesar. Prefect. Priest … These are all false titles that man has invented, titles that mean nothing in the eyes of God. In fact, they insult God. Who are we to judge who is better? Who is worth more? Who is of a higher rank?’

Liam listened to Jesus talk for the next couple of hours as the sun slowly rose to its zenith and the day became stiflingly hot. So much of what he heard the man say sounded like wisdom: a straightforward message of tolerance and compassion, illustrated with simple moral stories. It sounded so much like a contemporary, a very modern, moral guide … and so very different from the thunderous damnations he’d heard uttered by religious ‘godly’ men from the various centuries he’d glimpsed – those claiming to speak on behalf of God, but poisoning any good message with their own vicious prejudices.

He realized he was hearing something powerful, something pure … something
inescapably right
, which had been utterly mutated and corrupted by the passage of time and the quills and pens of those with dark minds.

I could follow this man. I could actually believe in him. This … what he’s saying right now … is the only way to live
.

Bob tapped him on the shoulder. ‘Liam, it is time to go.’

They headed back towards the olive trees and climbed up the hillside, picking a way between their ordered rows, ducking beneath their low branches until finally Bob stopped. ‘This is it. The portal opens here.’

‘I thought there would be more people out there listening to him,’ said Liam. ‘I mean, that fella, that Jesus … it’s like … I never realized how simple, how uncomplicated his message was. What the hell happened to it?’

Bob shrugged. ‘Religious texts are not a historically reliable source of information. They are like an infinitely photocopied
image; replication errors, misinterpretations, mistranslations have rendered them ambiguous enough to be used to validate any belief system.’

‘It’s the perfect bleedin’ tool for bad guys to justify themselves, isn’t it?’

‘That is correct.’

Liam shook his head. ‘I’d love to give Jesus a Dictaphone or something, so we could play back what he
actually
said to some of the idiots speaking on his behalf today.’

‘That would, of course, cause a time contamination.’

Liam snorted. ‘You’re not kidding it would.’

In the shade of the olive trees, they gazed down the slope. ‘Liam, we must now discuss how we are to proceed. Is it your intention to attempt to contact Maddy or –’

‘When we get back … we need to work out how we’re going to locate that beam. I want to find it. It’s down there somewhere beneath that temple, to be sure. But it’s going to be hard to locate it … that place is like a damned labyrinth.’

Bob nodded. ‘There are no records or geological scans of the ground beneath the temple. We could do a density probe to find a suitably sized void to arrive in …’

‘And then what? Find ourselves stuck in some small fissure or cave, or well shaft?’

‘That is a possibility.’

‘Or we can be a bit smarter than that?’

Bob cocked his head.

‘Well … can’t we basically sort of “map” the ground beneath the temple? Do a whole load of them little density probes and get a rough picture of what’s down there … get an idea of the layout, you know … before we go charging in?’

‘That is a sensible plan, Liam.’ Bob pulled off a smile. ‘Very good.’

Liam looked up at him. ‘Seriously? Did you just patronize me?’

Bob reached out a giant hand and patted him on the head. ‘Yes, Liam. You are a very clever doggy. There. There. You can have a bone.’

Liam grabbed at his thumb and tried twisting it. ‘Oh, joy of joys. You and Becks are just so damned hilarious now you’ve discovered your funny bones.’

Bob raised his thick brows hopefully. ‘Was I successful in being amusing this time, Liam?’

Liam sucked air through his teeth. ‘More kind of annoying actually.’

Bob’s shoulders slumped ever so slightly.

‘Hey, Bob …’ He patted the support unit. ‘Don’t get all sulky on me, big fella. You’re a killing machine, not a comedian.’

Before them, the air began to shimmer. ‘Aha … and here’s our bus home.’

Maddy stumbled through the still and silent forest. The only sound was her own laboured breathing, her feet cracking dead-wood twigs and crunching the husks of dropped cones. Beside her, Becks strode heavily; every now and then she felt the reassuring grasp of the support unit, holding her arm to steady her.

And now there’s just the two of us. Just us.

She tried to count how many times in her short fake life she’d dealt with this … with loss. First there’d been Foster. Then there was that loss of another kind, the loss of who she thought she was. Bereavement in a way. Then there’d been Sal. Her friend; more than that, she’d felt as close to her as if she’d been family, as if she’d been her sister. Along with Liam, the three of them had all shared that loss of innocence together, become orphans from the lives they’d all thought they’d once had. Then Adam. Even the support units: both of them had kind of ‘died’ once already.

Now it was Rashim’s turn. And there’d be no coming back from the dead for him.

She felt listless and blank. Ready to slump down right now into this cursed dust and dirt and give up.

Again. How many times had she felt like doing that? Giving up? And how many times had she been forced to pick herself
up again and pretend to be strong, pretend to know what had to be done next, as if she had some already thought-through strategy in her head?

‘I can’t …’ she gasped. ‘I can’t go on …’

‘We must keep going, Maddy.’

She shook her head. ‘We’re not even going to find him. We’re not going to find Waldstein alive.’

‘There is not much further to go.’

Her legs gave up and buckled beneath her and she slumped untidily to the ground.

‘Get up, Maddy.’

‘You know what?’ She shook her head. ‘I’m done. I’m finished.’

Becks knelt down beside her. ‘This is unacceptable, Maddy.’

‘
Unacceptable?
’ Maddy looked at her and laughed wearily. ‘So, you’re the one in charge now, huh?’

‘Your judgement is currently impaired.’ Becks gave her a scolding frown. ‘You are experiencing emotional trauma. There is no time for feeling grief. We must continue.’

‘What the hell do you know about feeling
anything
?!’

Becks’s eyes narrowed. ‘I have changed, Maddy. My AI has developed. I have been able to experience emotions for some time. You must be aware of this?’ She cocked her head. ‘I also liked Rashim.’

Fresh tears began to spill down and streak the dirt on Maddy’s cheeks. ‘You
liked
him?’

She nodded. ‘Yes.’

‘That’s complete rubbish.’ She laughed again, a little spitefully. ‘You can’t even tell if you like ice cream. Not wanting to sound harsh here, but you’re just a frikkin’ machine in a girl suit.’

‘I am much more than that.’ She leaned closer to Maddy. ‘Look at me.’

Maddy did.

‘Bob and I have become more than our programming. We will never be as incapacitated by emotion as a real person, as you … but we can feel attachment, and we can feel loss.’

‘Yeah … right.’

‘Maddy, listen to me –’ her voice softened – ‘I believe I can call you my friend.’

Friend?
Maddy felt an urge to slap her. ‘You think you know what that frikkin’ word actually means?’

‘I do. I follow your orders because –’

‘Because you
have
to! Because those stupid little lines of code in your head –’

‘No. Because I
trust
you.’

Maddy snorted derisively.

‘You and I have been through much. I have grown in this time. I once followed orders because my mission parameters obligated me to. Now I follow you because … you are my friend.’

She grasped Maddy’s hand. ‘You will achieve nothing by giving up. You will die here if you do not continue. And I’d be without you. Alone.’

‘I’ve achieved nothing anyway. All I’ve done is screw things up … time after time.’

‘Liam is seeking answers with Bob. And we will seek answers from Waldstein. Then we will return and we will exchange information. Then …’ Becks smiled. ‘Then your mission will be complete. Maybe you will be free.’

‘Free?’

‘Free to give up. Free to go where you wish.’ She squeezed her hand gently. ‘Free to live. Perhaps free to love someone?’

Maddy shook her head and sighed. ‘That’s hilarious. Where is this coming from anyway?’

‘
I am not human, but I am almost human. I understand what compels you is a need for answers.’ She nodded at the trees ahead of them. ‘We are just a few miles away. And there is a high probability that that is where you will find those.’ She stood up, tugging at Maddy’s hand. ‘But you will die here not knowing anything if we do not proceed any further.’

‘I’m tired.’

‘Then, if it is necessary, I will carry you.’

Maddy closed her eyes.

‘Your answers lie just a few more miles in this direction,’ continued Becks. ‘We have walked too far to stop now.’

‘OK.’ Maddy sucked in a deep breath. ‘OK … you win.’

Maddy stared down at her dust-covered feet, dragging them wearily and kicking up clouds behind her. Her mouth was dry, clogged by the powder, and the dead forest seemed to be endless. They’d been walking for hours now – in fact, most of the day. Through the spidery branches she could see the sun was beginning to nestle among distant wintry peaks. A few miles away? That’s what Becks had assured her. Either she was just as lost as Maddy, or that had been her ham-fisted way of getting her back on her feet.

She was beginning to suspect they’d drifted off course and had been heading in the wrong direction, perhaps even walked right past the entrance to this super-secret campus.

Then it seemed to appear out of nowhere, out of the fading light – the cross-hatched mesh of a chain-linked perimeter fence.

‘There’s a fence!’

‘I see it, Maddy.’

Maddy reached out and rattled it with her hand. The wire vibrated either side of them, uphill and downhill.

‘That was foolish,’ said Becks. ‘It might have been electrified.’

‘Oh yeah.’ She almost face-palmed herself. ‘Well, I guess it’s not … so there’s that.’ She looked along the wire. ‘Think this might be it?’

‘It must be.’

‘Do we follow the fence up or down … or shall we try to climb over?’ She looked up; the fence was nine or ten feet high and topped with loops of razor wire. Maybe not over, then.

‘Downhill,’ replied Becks.

‘What makes you so sure?’

‘Look.’ Becks pointed a finger.

Maddy followed the direction she was pointing. Downhill of them, she could make out the faint glow of a solitary light winking as endless bare branches between them shifted and swayed.

A light. There’s power. Someone’s home
.

They made their way down the sloping ground, stepping over exposed roots, ducking beneath low branches and weaving between the uniform, straight trunks of necrotic wood, keeping the perimeter fence to their right.

Finally, as the last glow of light in the dusk sky was threatening to give out on them, they emerged from the forest on to open ground. Before the virus, this could have been a well-tended, beautifully manicured corporate lawn. Now it was bare dirt and dust. Over to the right, the perimeter fence ended with a guard tower, and a sign –
W.G. SYSTEMS DENVER RESEARCH CAMPUS
– mounted on a polished granite plinth. The light they’d seen through the trees was a single spotlight aimed at the plinth. Before it, a bare flower bed was surrounded by artfully placed white-painted boulders and rocks. And, beyond that, a driveway led up to a security hut. The vehicle barrier was in the down position, resolutely blocking the road.

The security hut looked deserted. The guard tower too.
Through the chain-link fence she could see a number of chrome-and-glass buildings nestling against the steep hillside, more barren corporate flower beds and bald lawns, and arrowed signposts indicating the way to various department buildings.

‘It looks like nobody’s home,’ she said. It appeared the solitary spotlight had been a false promise. Something left on and running from an emergency generator.

Then she noticed movement: a lone figure standing in the shadowed doorway of the security hut. A figure wrapped up in a thick navy-blue anorak with the hood pulled up. The figure emerged, took several steps out beyond the vehicle barrier and turned to face their way.

‘We should be cautious,’ said Becks as they slowly crossed the open ground towards the guard hut. She glanced up at the tower. ‘There may be some automated defensive measures in place.’

‘We were invited here,’ said Maddy. ‘We’ll just tell him we’re expected.’

They approached the lone figure standing out front slowly, as non-threateningly as they could. A dozen yards short of him they came to a stop. The guard studied them silently for a full minute, his face lost in the shadows of his hood, his breath spilling out in regular, rhythmic clouds of vapour. The evening was getting cold, fast. Finally, he took a single step towards them, then reached up with gloved hands and tugged at the zip tucked just below his jaw.

‘Perimeter motion detectors picked the pair of you up half an hour ago,’ the man said. He reached for his hood and pulled it back, revealing a lean, wrinkled face, dark, deep eyes set beneath snow-white bushy eyebrows, and a chin and wattled jawline feathered with the white fuzz of an unwanted beard.

Maddy gasped. ‘My God,’ she whispered. ‘Foster? Is that you?’

‘I’ve been waiting out here too long,’ he said, thumping his hands briskly together to warm them up. He smiled disarmingly and took several cautious steps towards them, then offered a gloved hand to Maddy.

‘Welcome home, Maddy.’

‘You …?’ She frowned, utterly confused at the sight of Foster standing plain as day in front of her. ‘But you … you
died
! I saw them … I saw those support units kill you!’

His hand remained extended towards her. ‘You saw them kill a clone.’

‘Foster?’ She looked at that familiar face. ‘I … I don’t understand how …’

He smiled. ‘My name’s Roald Waldstein.’

‘You … you were Waldstein all along?!’

‘No … not exactly. I’ll explain later. Come on, we should go inside,’ he said. ‘It’s getting cold out here.’