Islands in the Net (23 page)

“I'll check,” Castleman said. He tapped rapidly at his keyboard. The lights dimmed to a mellow glow.

Rainey slapped a leather bag onto the tabletop and pulled its drawstring with a hiss. “Lamb's
bread
!” he exulted, pulling a handful of chopped green weed. He began stuffing the pipe with deft, flashy gestures.

The prime minister was sitting at the head of the table. A little black man wearing dark shades and a high-collared military jacket. He'd materialized out of nowhere.

“Welcome to Grenada,” he said.

Laura stared.

“Please don't be alarmed, Mrs. Webster,” said Prime Minister Louison. “This is not a formal proceeding. We often reason together in this manner. In the sacrament of meditation.”

Rainey slid the pipe across the table. Louison took it and fired it with a chrome lighter, puffing loudly. The marijuana ignited with an angry hiss and bluish flames danced above the bowl.

“Burn the Pope!” said General Creft.

Louison's head was wreathed in smog. He blew a stream to his right, across Stubbs's empty chair. “In memory of a good friend.” He passed the pipe to Rainey. Rainey sucked loudly—the pipe bubbled. “Fire and water,” he said, giving it to Gelli.

Gelli huffed enthusiastically and leaned back in his chair. He slid it to Laura. “Don't be scared,” Gelli said. “None of this is happening, really.”

Laura slid the pipe toward General Creft. The air was growing blue with sweetish smoke. Creft puffed and blew with great hyperventilating wheezes.

Laura sat tensely on the edge of her seat. “I'm sorry I can't join your ceremony,” she said. “It would discredit me as a bargaining partner. In the eyes of my company.”

Rainey cawed with laughter. They chuckled all around.

“They won't know,” Gelli told her.

“They won't understand,” Castleman said, breathing smoke.

“They won't believe,” said Gould.

The prime minister leaned forward, his shades gleaming. His medals glistened in the light. “Some mon deal with information,” he told her. “And some mon deal with the concept of truth. But some mon deal with
magic
. Information flow around ya. And truth flow right at ya. But magic—
it flow right through ya
.”

“These are tricks,” Laura said. She gripped the table. “You want me to join you—how can I trust you? I'm not a magician.…”

“We know what you are,” Gould said, as if talking to a child. “We know all about you. You, your Rizome, your Net—you think that your world encompasses ours. But it doesn't. Your world is a subset of our world.” He slapped the table with his open palm—a gunshot bang of noise. “You see, we know everything about you. But you know
nothing at all
about us.”

“You have a little spark, maybe,” Rainey said. He was leaning back in his chair, steepling his fingertips, his eyes slitted, and already reddening. “But you'll never see the future—the
real
future—until you learn to open up your mind. To see all the levels …”

“All the levels under the world,” Castleman said. “‘Tricks,' you call it. Reality's nothing but levels and levels of tricks. Take that stupid black glass off your eyes, and we can show you … so many things.…”

Laura jumped to her feet. “Put me back on the Net! You have no right to do this. Put me back at once.”

The prime minister laughed. A dry little wizened chuckle. He set the fuming pipe under the table. Then he sat back up, lifted both hands theatrically, and vaporized.

The Bank's Directors stood in a body, shoving their chairs back. They were laughing and shaking their heads. And ignoring her.

They strolled off together, chuckling, muttering, into the pitch blackness of the tunnel. Leaving Laura alone under the pool of light, with the glowing decks and cooling mugs of coffee. Castleman had forgotten his cigarette case.…

[“Oh my God,”] came a quiet voice in her ear. [“They all vanished! Laura, are you there? Are you all right?”]

Laura's knees buckled. She half fell backward into her chair. “Ms. Emerson,” she said. “Is that you?”

[“Yes, dear. How did they do that?”]

“I'm not sure,” Laura said. Her throat was sandpaper dry. She poured herself some coffee, shakily, not caring what might be in it. “What exactly did you see them do?”

[“Well … it seemed quite a reasonable discussion.… They said that they appreciate our mediation, and don't blame us for Stubbs's death.… Then suddenly this. You're alone. One moment they were sitting and talking, and the next, the chairs were empty and the air was full of smoke.”] Ms. Emerson paused. [“Like a video special effect. Is that what you saw, Laura?”]

“A special effect,” Laura said. She gulped warm coffee. “Yes … they chose this meeting ground, didn't they? I'm sure they could rig it somehow.”

Ms. Emerson laughed quietly. [“Yes, of course. It did give me a turn.… For a moment I was afraid you'd tell me they were all Optimal Personas. Ha ha. What a cheap stunt.”]

Laura set her mug down carefully. “How did I, uh, do?”

[“Oh, very well, dear. You were quite your usual self. I did offer a few minor suggestions online, but you seemed distracted.… Not surprising, in such an important meeting.… Anyway, you did well.”]

“Oh. Good,” Laura said. She gazed upward. “I'm sure if I could reach that ceiling and dig around behind those lights, I'd find holograms or something.”

[“Why waste your time?”] Ms. Emerson chuckled. [“And spoil their harmless little touch of drama.… I notice that David has also had a very interesting time.… They tried to recruit him! We've been expecting that.”]

“What did he say?”

[“He was very polite. He did well, too.”]

She heard footsteps. Sticky ambled out of the darkness. “So,” he said. “You sittin' here talkin' to thin air again.” He sprawled carelessly into Gelli's chair. “You okay? You look a lickle pale.” He glanced curiously at one of the screens. “They give you a hard time?”

“They're a hard bunch,” Laura told him. “Your bosses.”

“Well it's a hard world,” Sticky shrugged. “You'll be wanting to get back to that baby of yours.… I got the jeep waitin' up on the roof.… Let's move.”

The swaying descent from the tower turned her stomach. She felt greenish and clammy as they took the winding road back to the coast. He drove far too fast, the steep, romantic hills lurching and dipping with the shocks, like cheap backstage scenery. “Slow down, Sticky,” she said. “I'll throw up if you don't.”

Sticky looked alarmed. “Why you nah tell me? Hell, we'll stop.” He bounced off the road into the shelter of some trees, then killed the engine. “You stay here,” he told the soldier.

He helped Laura out of her seat. She hung on his arm. “If I could just walk a little,” she said. Sticky led her away from the jeep, checking the sky again, by reflex.

A light pattering of rain rustled the leaves overhead. “What's this?” he said. “You hanging all over me. You been taking Carlotta's pills or something?”

She let him go reluctantly. He felt warm and solid. Made of human flesh. Sticky laughed to see her swaying there flat-footed. “What's the matter? Uncle Dave not givin' you any?”

Laura flushed. “Didn't your mother teach you not to be such a fucking chauvinist? I can't believe this.”

“Hey,” Sticky said mildly. “My mother was just one of Winston's gals. When he snap a finger, she jump like a gunshot. Not everyone touchy like you, you know.” He squatted beneath a tree, bracing his back, and picked up a long twig. “So. They give you a scare, do they?” He juggled the twig between his fingers. “Tell you anything about the war?”

“Some,” Laura said. “Why?”

“Militia's been on full alert for three days,” Sticky said. “Barracks talk says the terries gave the Bank an ultimatum. Threaten brimstone fire. But we through payin' shakedown money. So looks like we gonna start poppin' caps.”

“Barracks talk,” Laura said. Suddenly she felt stifled in the long black
chador
. She stripped it over her head.

“Better keep the flak jacket,” Sticky told her. There was a gleam in his eyes. He liked seeing her throw clothes off. “Lickle gift from me to you.”

She looked around herself, breathing hard. The fine wet smell of tropic woods. Bird calls. Rain. The world was still here. No matter what went on in people's heads.…

Sticky jabbed at a termite nest in the tree's roots, waiting for her.

She felt better now. She understood Sticky. The vicious fight they'd had earlier seemed almost comfortable now—like a necessary thing. Now he was giving her a look—not like a side of beef or an enemy, but a kind of look she was used to getting from men. He wasn't so different from other young men. Kind of a jerk maybe, but a human being. She felt a sudden gush of comradely human feeling for him—almost felt she could hug him. Or at least invite him to dinner.

Sticky looked down at his boots. “Did they say you a hostage?” he said tightly. “Say they were gonna shoot you?”

“No,” Laura said. “They want to hire us. To work for Grenada.”

Sticky began laughing. “That's good. That's real good. That's funny.” He stood up loosely, happily, as if shrugging off a weight. “You gonna do it?”

“No.”

“I nah think so.” He paused. “You ought to, though.”

“Why don't you have dinner with us tonight?” Laura said. “Maybe Carlotta can come. We'll have a good talk together. The four of us.”

“I have to watch what I eat,” Sticky said. Meaningless. But it meant something to him.

Sticky left her at the mansion. David arrived an hour later. He kicked open the door and came down the hall whooping, banging the baby on his hip. “Home again, home again …” Loretta was crowing with excitement.

Laura was waiting in the hideous living room, nursing her second rum punch. “Mother of my child!” David said. “Where are the diapers, and how was your day?”

“They're supposed to be in the tote.”

“I used all of those. God, what smells so good? And what are you drinking?”

“Rita made planter's punch.”

“Well, pour me some.” He vanished with the baby and brought her back freshly changed, with her bottle.

Laura sighed. “You had a good time, David, didn't you?”

“You wouldn't believe what they have out there,” David said, sprawling onto the couch with the baby in his lap. “I met another one of the Andreis. I mean his name's not Andrei, but he acted just like him. Korean guy. Big Buckminster Fuller fan. They're making massive arcologies out of nothing! For nothing! Concretized sand and seastone. They sink these iron grates into the ocean, run some voltage through, and get this: solids begin to accrete … calcium carbonate, right? Like seashells! They're growing buildings offshore. Out of this ‘seastone.' And no building permits … no impact statements … nothing.”

He gulped three inches of cloudy rum and lime, then shuddered. “Man! I could do with another of these.… Laura, it was the hottest thing I ever saw. People are
living
in 'em. Some of them are
under water
… you can't tell where the walls end and the coral starts.”

Little Loretta grabbed her bottle avidly. “And get this—I was walking around in my work clothes and
nobody paid any attention
. Just another black guy, right? Even with old uhmm … Jesus, I forgot his name already, the Korean Andrei.… He was giving me the tour, but it was really low-key, I got to see everything.”

“They want you to work on it?” Laura said.

“More than that! Hell, they offered me a fifteen-million-rouble budget and carte blanche to get on with whatever I like.” He took off his glasses and set them on the arm of the couch. “Of course I said no dice—no way I'm staying here without my wife and kid—but if we could work out some kind of co-op thing with Rizome, hell, yes, I'd do it. I'd do it tomorrow.”

“They want me to work for them, too,” Laura said. “They're worried about their public image.”

David stared at her and burst into laughter. “Well of course they are. Of course. Well, hell, pour me another one. Tell me all about the meeting.”

“It was bizarre,” Laura said.

“Well, I believe that! Hell, you ought to see what they're up to out on the coast. They've got ten-year-old kids out there who were born—I mean literally born—in seawater. They have these
maternity tanks
.… They have women at term, right … they take 'em out into these birthing tanks.… Did I mention the dolphins?” He sipped his drink.

“Dolphins.”

“You ever hear of laser acupuncture? I mean right here along the spine.…” He leaned forward, jostling the baby. “Oh, sorry, Loretta.” He switched arms. “Anyway, I can tell you all that later. So, you testified, huh? Were they tough?”

“Not tough exactly.…”

“If they want us to defect, it can't have been that bad.”

“Well …” Laura said. It was all slipping away from her. She was feeling increasingly hopeless. There was no way she could tell him what had really happened … what she thought had happened … especially not online, in front of Atlanta's cameras. There'd be a better time later. Surely. “If we could only talk privately …”

David smirked. “Yeah, it's a bitch, online.… Well, I can have Atlanta send us back the tapes of your testimony. We'll look over 'em together, you can tell me all about it.” Silence. “Unless there's something you have to tell me right now.”

“No …”

“Well, I have something to tell you.” He finished his drink. “I was gonna wait till after supper, but I just can't hold it.” He grinned. “Carlotta made a pass at me.”

“Carlotta?” Laura said, shocked. “She did what?” She sat up straighter.