Multireal (38 page)

The politicos filed in from the foyer, nine in all, each more smug and
self-satisfied than the last. Natch disliked them immediately.

It was a motley group. A labor boss who had led a violent strike against
OrbiCo, simultaneously causing a handful of deaths and a plunge in the
company's stock price. A pair of tycoons who had bought large swaths of
real estate on Luna and turned them into indulgent playgrounds for the
wealthy. A few L-PRACG politicians who dangled from the shadier fringes
of the libertarian movement. The bodhisattva of Creed Libertas, looking
quite regal with her long black hair and her robe marked with the insignia
of the rising sun. A tiny bronze-skinned woman whose connectible collar
tagged her as an Islander. And finally, of course, Khann Frejohr.

The interesting thing about the libertarian movement, Natch
reflected as he watched the group jockey for seats in his living room,
was that neither rich nor poor could claim ownership of it. The instinct
to keep the centralized government out of one's business didn't just
cross boundaries, it obliterated them.

Natch wished he could be somewhere else entirely. The MultiReal
stunt he had performed on Khann Frejohr yesterday had taken more
out of him than he thought possible; a palpable sense of uncleanliness
seeped through his pores, as if his OCHREs were limping along near
burnout. And that on top of the corrosive black code in his veins, the
MultiReal programming in his skull, and the throbbing of his arm. If
only he could jettison all these people from the apartment and just ...
sleep. How long had it been?

Frejohr waited until the labor boss had parked himself on Natch's
favorite work stool and everyone had taken the prudent step of priving
themselves to outside communication. Then the speaker brought the
meeting to order.

"My friends," began Frejohr. "Comrades. We live in dangerous
times. We're standing on the precipice of a very steep cliff. We're
looking over the edge, and we can see that it's a long, long way down."

Natch had found a place near the front door where he could observe
the proceedings without intruding. Listening to Frejohr now, he
understood why this man had risen so far in the ranks of the libertarian
movement, why he had become the symbol of opposition to Len Borda.
The voice that had sounded like a tired mumble yesterday had metamorphosed into a hypnotic purr in the presence of his peers. The
politicos were transfixed. Natch's exhaustion was quickly forgotten.

"Len Borda has single-handedly ruled the Defense and Wellness
Council for almost sixty years," continued the speaker, beginning a
slow stroll around the perimeter of the garden. "And what's the high
executive given us in that sixty years? An unprecedented military
buildup. A state of constant warfare with the Islanders and the Pharisees. The erosion of the people's power base and civil liberties. Just last
month, the Prime Committee gave him the legal authority to shut
down any program on the Data Sea, at any time.

"And now the Council is in a state of disarray. Within Len Borda's
own organization, we hear, a rebellion may be brewing. A rebellion
that could decide the fate of the world.

"Yes, the world! I'm not exaggerating. Because now the ultimate
weapon has been thrown into the mix, and it's called MultiReal." Frejohr stopped, gave a particularly intense stare at the daisy patch in the
middle of the room. "I assume you all heard about Natch's little ...
demonstration yesterday?"

The politicians turned toward Natch with something resembling
awe, as if he himself were the weapon Borda was seeking. Natch
thought he could detect a few trembling knees in the group, and he
wondered if the politicos were going to demand their own demonstration. Thankfully, no one did. I'd rather jump off the balcony than do that
again, he thought.

"MultiReal," continued Frejohr. "A weapon that can warp the will
and control realities. A weapon that the Council could use to reduce
the Islands and the Pharisee Territories to rubble.

"Now the creator of this weapon is dead. Its principal engineer's
been dragged off to prison. And its owner"-he made a gesture toward
Natch-"its owner has been stripped unlawfully of his property. All
that stands between the Council and this deadly technology? A single
fiefcorp analyst.

"So I've called a meeting with you, the power brokers of the libertarian movement. The forces on the street, the ones who were there
during the troubles in Melbourne in 318." Natch saw a few nods from
the group, including the bodhisattva and the labor leader. "The ones
who did their part then, and the ones who will do their part when the
next opportunity arises.

"My friends, the time for delay is over. The time has come to act."

The speaker stepped into the corner and bowed his head with what
was less an ending to his oration than an indefinite pause. It was a good
speech, Natch decided; short on substance, long on passion. The libertarians sat for a full three minutes staring at the carpet.

"So this fiefcorp analyst," said the labor boss, breaking the uneasy
silence. He had perhaps the widest head Natch had ever seen. "What's
her name again?"

"Jara," said Frejohr.

"This Jara-where is she? Shouldn't we go get her and hide her
away somewhere?"

"Not as easy as it sounds," replied the speaker. "She's still holed up
at that estate in West London, and the place is surrounded by drudges.
There are a hundred Council officers right around the corner, just
waiting for someone to make a move."

The Islander clasped her head in her hands. "So what's stopping
them? The Council could raid that estate right now. They could torture her and force her to hand over MultiReal while we're sitting here."

"She's being watched," said the bodhisattva of Creed Libertas,
stroking her hair like a cat grooming its fur. "We have devotees inside
the estate keeping an eye on her twenty-four hours a day. If the Council
tries anything-either faction, Borda's or Lee's-then we'll have some
notice. We'll be ready."

Natch remembered the spontaneous protest on the tube that had
saved him from those Council officers a couple of weeks ago. Antigovernment activists couldn't stand up to the officers of the Council in an
open fight, of course. But if there were indeed sympathizers among the
staff at Berilla's estate, they had a chance of spiriting Jara away from
such a confrontation. They could keep her and MultiReal safe, for a
little while.

"This is all moot," put in Frejohr. "With all the chaos surrounding
Margaret's death and the infoquakes, the Council won't risk another
raid. They'd have open rebellion on their hands."

"It's going to come to that anyway," said the Islander, with a mysterious glint in her eye.

"Maybe," grunted the speaker, reticent. "Maybe not." It seemed to
Natch that Frejohr was very purposefully not looking in his direction.

"If the Council doesn't release Quell soon, you know exactly what's
going to happen," said the Islander. "You know how Josiah is."

Natch had no idea who Josiah was or what he was threatening, but
this insiders' conversation was growing tiresome. "You're both missing
something obvious," he said with a scowl. Heads swiveled around, as
if the politicians had forgotten all about him. "Why would the Council
want to conduct another raid? They put Jara in this position. Magan
Kai Lee did, at least. If he plays his cards right, Jara will just hand it
over to him."

"How do you know?" asked one of the L-PRACG representatives.
"What if-"

"What if what?" Natch barked. "Jara doesn't want the responsibility. She doesn't want MultiReal, and the Council knows that. Don't you understand? Lee and Borda are going to convince her that it's in
her best interest to work with them. They'll grease the way so that
giving the databases over is the easiest and most logical thing for her
to do. She's very easy to manipulate."

"But can't you prevent that?" said a Lunar tycoon. "Just use MultiReal against her. She won't be able to hand the program over."

Natch flung a withering look in the tycoon's direction. "That's the
stupidest idea I've ever heard. What if Jara's using MultiReal too?
Besides-just because I can stop her from giving it away once doesn't
mean I can stop her from trying again. Do you want me to stand guard
over her for the rest of my life?" He remembered his mental tug-of-war
with Khann Frejohr out on the balcony. The thought of another protracted neural battle so soon after the last one made his knees weak.
"Listen, this thing isn't hypnotism. It's not magic. You can't just use
MultiReal to permanently change someone's mind. If that was the
case, don't you think I would've used it on Len Borda already? Don't
you think I would have ... have ..." The sentence wandered off,
seemingly of its own volition.

The conversation lost its momentum at that point, leaving the libertarians to stare gloomily at the Tope paintings on the windows.
Natch felt an irrational urge to just abandon them there and sneak out
the front door. No, it's too late for that, he told himself. Get ahold of yourself. You set this up, and now you need to see it through.

Frejohr spoke. "Then I think it's clear what needs to be done," he
said, his voice muscular with purpose. The speaker crossed his arms in
front of his chest. "If it's inevitable that Jara's going to hand MultiReal
over to the Council, we need to do it first."

Everyone gaped at the speaker, Natch included. "Have you gone completely offline?" sputtered the bodhisattva of Creed Libertas.

Khann Frejohr appeared to be enjoying the surprise in his colleagues' faces, and Natch recognized the glee of a fellow showman in
midperformance. "This is what it all comes down to, isn't it?" he said.
"This is what it's always come down to, since the beginning. You still
have access to the MultiReal code, don't you, Natch?"

"Of course I do. She said ... she said it couldn't be taken away
from me."

"Jara said that?" asked the labor leader, perplexed.

"No, not Jara. Margaret. " Nach felt his emotions rear up at the
thought of the bodhisattva, at the thought of the MultiReal code
inside his head and the crisis she had brought upon him. He closed his
eyes for a moment, temporarily overwhelmed, and tried to mold his
emotions into sentences. "She said I was the guardian and the keeper.
It can't be taken away. The nothingness at the center of the universe.
Why don't you understand?"

He opened his eyes and saw the labor leader swallow and sit back,
obviously understanding nothing.

Frejohr was unmoved. "We need to let Len Borda have MultiReal.
Let Magan Kai Lee have MultiReal. Let the creeds have it, the fiefcorps, the drudges, the Meme Cooperative." The speaker stretched his
arm out to the balcony, which was facing the snow-engulfed eastern
courtyard at the moment. "Release the code and the specs onto the
Data Sea, Natch. Everything. Give everyone in the world access."

The room was starting to spin, and Natch could feel himself
sliding down into the mental quicksand once more. No, not now, not
now! He gave himself a bio/logic boost of adrenaline and assaulted the
nothingness until it released its grip on him. His eyes shot open, and
he noticed that the L-PRACG politicians who were standing nearby
had quietly scooted farther away. "Let me get this straight. You're
telling me I should take the most revolutionary product of our timemaybe the most revolutionary product in history-and just give it
away?"

Frejohr was unrepentant. His silver hair glistened in the reflected
sunlight from the window. "That's exactly what I'm saying."

"Why the fuck would I do that?"

"Studies show that free bio/logics products are more functional and
secure," insisted one of the Lunar tycoons, sliding into lecture mode
with one finger in the air.

"Plus free bio/logics creates demand," the other tycoon chimed in.
"In fact, that's actually how I made my first-"

"I'm not an idiot," yelled Natch, causing the tycoons to shut up
instantly. "Don't try to teach me hive-level economics. I know it backward and forward. Why would I open up the MultiReal code? To
create demand? To speed adoption? Ridiculous. My product's got one
hundred percent demand. Everyone in the solar system is going to be
using MultiReal a month after we release it. You think opening up the
program will make it more functional and secure? That's laughable.
There's subroutines in this program that could kill you in a second if
they're mishandled. People can't deal with that kind of freedom."

The entrepreneur found himself alone on the other side of the garden,
though he didn't remember walking there. Khann Frejohr stood across
the room with his libertarian posse clustered in their chairs behind him.
Suddenly Natch scanned the eyes of the Lunar tycoons and realized that
Frejohr had planned this. He had brought the libertarians to Natch's
apartment for the specific purpose of convincing him to release MultiReal
on the Data Sea. The thought gave Natch a perverse sort of amusement.
Some of them had obviously known the agenda ahead of time, while
others, like the bodhisattva, were just now coming around to the idea.