Realms of Light (27 page)

Kumiko shuddered at that. Then she asked,
“And me?”

Yoshio smiled. “I think, daughter, that I
have not paid you enough attention of late. I hope we will be very
close in the future.”

Kumiko hung her head and said nothing, but I
was not satisfied. “That’s all? No memory wipe or anything?” I
asked.

“That’s all. I do not tamper with the minds
of members of my own family.”

“She conspired to kill you.”

“I do not believe she will do so again. I
will be changing my will, of course, to remove future temptation,
but I doubt it’s necessary.”

“You’re going to trust her?” I demanded.

The old man’s smile twisted wryly. “Oh, I
haven’t trusted her since she reached puberty, Mis’ Hsing,” he
said. “Why would I start now?”

I realized I was still pointing the gun at
him. I raised it slightly higher. “You trusted
me
,” I said.
“What if I’m not satisfied with letting her run loose?”

He shook his head, still smiling. “You won’t
shoot me, Hsing. You won’t shoot Kumiko, either. You are in no
imminent peril, and it is not in your nature to kill a fellow human
being in cold blood.”

“Are you sure of that?” I said, pressing the
button that made the gun whine as if homing in on a target.

“In fact, I am. Before hiring you I checked
into your background extensively, and had a full psychological
analysis done. You might kill in self-defense, or in moments of
anger or stress, but shooting an unarmed human under circumstances
like these? No. I
am
sure.”

I wanted to call his bluff. I wanted to blow
his brains out. The damned superior old man treated me like a tool
he could use as he pleased, and I resented it.

But he treated
everyone
as mere tools
or game-pieces, and he was right. It wasn’t a bluff. I couldn’t
pull the trigger. It wasn’t that shooting him would get me sent
straight to reconstruction and probably a total wipe; it’s that I
wasn’t a murderer, and refused to become one.

I lowered the gun. “Has the case been
resolved to your satisfaction, Mis’ Nakada?” I asked coldly.

“It has, Mis’ Hsing.”

“Then I would like my fee.”

“Your father and brother are on their way to
one of the city hospitals, and a dream contract for Guohan Hsing
has been negotiated with Eternal Adventures. When you present an
itemized bill, you will be paid the remainder of your fee and all
expenses.”

“Good,” I said. I started to turn away.

“
However
, Mis’ Hsing,” the old man
called after me, “I would like to amend our agreement.”

I turned back. “A deal’s a deal,” I said.

“Indeed, and I will honor ours. However, I
wish to offer you another commission.”

I looked at Kumiko, standing there. “Not
interested,” I said.

“I really think you should reconsider.” His
voice turned cold. “I am not a good enemy to have.”

I hefted the gun. “Are you threatening
me?”

“Yes, I am.”

I hadn’t expected even Grandfather Nakada to
be quite that blunt. “Why? What do you want?”

“Because
you
are in a position to
threaten
me
, Mis’ Hsing. You know too much about my family.
You know what Kumiko and Shinichiro did, and what will become of
Shinichiro. You know what was in my ITEOD files in Nightside City.
You know what Shinichiro intended to do with Seventh Heaven
Neurosurgery, and it’s entirely possible I may want to pursue some
portion of his scheme. You have said you will not allow me to
modify your memory, and I am not going to force you—legally I
can’t, practically it would be extremely awkward to do so without
risking damage to your personality, and all in all, I would prefer
to keep our relationship one of mutual trust and respect.”

“I know how to keep secrets,” I said. I
glanced at Kumiko. He hadn’t mentioned the existence of
Yoshio-
kun
, even though that was something he’d want to keep
quiet, and I guessed it was because his murderous daughter was
listening.

“Even when you believe those secrets to
endanger innocents?”

I didn’t answer that. He had my psych
work-up.

“May I tell you what commission I’m
offering?”

“I’m listening,” I said.

“It’s a very simple one,” he said. “I will
pay you one hundred million credits to leave the Eta Cassiopeia
system and live elsewhere for the rest of your life.”

I didn’t take it in at first. “What?” I said.
“I...
what
?”

He held up a finger. “No, wait—a better idea.
I will pay you one hundred million credits to leave the Eta
Cassiopeia system and live elsewhere for the rest of
my
life, or until such time as I ask you to return.”

“Live elsewhere?” I looked around a little
wildly. “Where?”

“Anywhere,” he said. “Anywhere but this star
system.” He lifted the finger again. “No, wait again—upon further
consideration, anywhere but this system or Earth. Nakada
Enterprises has enough interests on Earth that your presence there
might be inconvenient.”

“My sister Alison is on Earth,” I said. I
didn’t really mean to say it; I was free associating to avoid
thinking about the actual offer.

A hundred million bucks. I would be rich. Oh,
not by Nakada standards, but by mine.

But I would be in a strange city somewhere,
on an unfamiliar planet, circling a different star.

“Perhaps we can find her for you,” he said.
“She might want to join you in your new home, or if not, at least
you can communicate with her.”

I didn’t know whether I liked that
possibility or not; my relationship with Ali was... odd, I guess. I
hadn’t really intended to mention her. I changed the subject.

“The rest of
your
life?”

He nodded. “I am a very old man, and you are
a young woman. You should easily outlive me, and once I am gone I
see no reason to continue to restrict your movements.”

“And if Kumiko murders you ten minutes after
I leave Prometheus?”

“Then you are free to return and investigate
my death, should you so choose. It is of no concern to me what you
do after my death.”

“How do I know you won’t just have me spaced
once I’m off-planet?”

“I told you, Mis’ Hsing, I trust you. I think
this galaxy is a better place with you in it. And while my moral
code is far more flexible than your own, like you, I prefer not to
commit murder if I can accomplish my ends without it.”

“But... one hundred million credits?”

“It is nothing to me, Hsing; I am an old man,
with far more money than I could ever hope to spend, more than
enough to leave all my descendants wealthy. It pleases me to make
you
wealthy, as well.”

I looked at Kumiko.

“This is between the two of you,” she said
stiffly. “I do not interfere with my father’s whims.”

“Do you hire assassins willing to travel
interstellar distances?” I asked.

She had the grace to look embarrassed. “I
suspect my father will make certain that I cannot do so with
impunity.”

The old man nodded.

I looked at them, and then I looked up at the
sky.

It was full night now, and the compound’s
screens were all down, the buildings all dark. The portable lights
were focused elsewhere, and the glow from the city outside the
compound’s walls was not overpowering. The red glow from Eta Cass B
wasn’t enough to do more than add a little color. The air above us
was cool and clear, and I could see a handful of stars shining
against the blackness.

I had never particularly wanted to visit
them, but the idea wasn’t unpleasant, either.

“One hundred million,” I said. “In addition
to the five million you already owe me.”

“Yes.”

“You’ll provide transportation wherever I
want to go?”

“That was not part of the original offer, but
I think I can throw it in, so long as you stay within human-settled
space.”

“Achernar? Fomalhaut? Eridania?”

“Wherever you please. Once there, you will be
on your own.”

“I’ll want some time to choose.”

“And I need time to restore this place to
normal operation,” he said. “We will need to analyze every single
system before allowing it back online, to make sure Shinichiro’s
influence has been removed.”

“Ten days, perhaps? That will give me time to
say my goodbyes and make sure Dad is settled in.”

“That sounds fair.”

I looked up at the stars again, at those
spots of light in the sky that were suns, with worlds circling
them, and I wondered whether this was real. One hundred million
credits—had I somehow wound up in a dreamtank without knowing it?
Was I an upload being fed an elaborate fantasy? My father had said
I was living a life like one he might see in his induced
dreams—
was
it all unreal?

Did it matter? If the images I saw came from
light reaching my eyes, or projections onto my retinas, or direct
stimulation of my brain, did it matter? Did it make any difference
whether I was thinking with electrochemical reactions in a lump of
organic tissue, or with microcurrents through silicon and optical
fiber? I saw what I saw, and thought what I thought, and if it
wasn’t real it was so perfect an imitation that it might as well
be.

I had already left one world behind. And
really, I didn’t even
like
Prometheus.

“You have a deal, Mis’ Nakada,” I said.

I invited Dad and Sebastian to join me. I didn’t
tell them the terms of my agreement with the old man, only that I
was leaving the system.

Dad didn’t even consider it. He was eager to
get back in the tank. At least this time he didn’t just walk out
one day and not come back. We said our goodbyes properly. I didn’t
expect ever to see him alive again, even if I returned to
Prometheus someday. After so long in the tank he was an older man
at sixty-eight than Yoshio Nakada was at two hundred and forty.
Besides, he intended to dream away whatever time he had left.

Sebastian gave it maybe ten minutes’ thought,
then shook his head. “This planet is strange enough,” he said. “An
entire new system would be too much.”

I didn’t argue. We weren’t really that close.
“I’ll try to stay in touch better than Ali has,” I said.

“I’d like that, Carlie.” And that was that;
no more family. Wherever I went, I was going to be on my own.

I went back to Alderstadt and cleared out my
office there, wrapping up a few bits of code I’d left dangling.
That’s what I was doing when the money started to arrive.

The old man hadn’t sent it all in one big
suspicious mass; instead there was a steady stream of large
payments from various parts of the Nakada business empire. I
received winnings from the New York, fees from Nakada family
accounts, unexplained settlements from three different insurance
companies and half a dozen lawyers.

I’m sure anyone who tried would be able to
trace all that money; this was just to make it a bit less
obvious.

When everything in Alderstadt was smooth I
buzzed back to American City and paid the Nakadas a visit.

They had lights and heat and a few basic
services, but most of the household systems were still offline,
forcing them to rough it. About half the family had gone traveling
until the “repairs” were complete.

Kumiko was not one of them. I had the
impression this wasn’t by choice.

Grandfather Nakada invited me to his
still-cloudless office for a chat, and I went. We said a few polite
things about the weather and the work on the compound.

“You could fix everything by throwing one
switch, couldn’t you?” I asked him.

“More or less,” he said.

“What are you going to do about your other
seven dead relatives?”

He sighed. “I will be restoring them, but in
restricted facilities. I do not think it wise to let them roam
freely through the net until I have interviewed them
carefully.”

“Are you going to edit them?”

“Probably not. Editing an uploaded human mind
is very difficult,” he said. “More difficult than editing memories
in an actual human.”

“I’m sure you speak from experience.”

“Of course. Should you encounter Minish Singh
before you leave, I’m afraid he won’t recognize you; he remembers
nothing at all from when he was called to investigate an intruder
among the dreamtanks until he found himself in an employment office
here in American City.”

“I trust you compensated him generously.”

“Of course. And it
was
voluntary.”

“And Sebastian?”

“We used a much lighter hand with him, I
assure you.”

I nodded.

Just before the silence could become awkward,
he asked, “Have you chosen your destination?”

“Yes,” I said.

He waited for me to say more, and when I
didn’t he said, “May I ask where?”

“Mis’ Nakada,” I said, “I don’t think I want
you to know where I am. You want me off Prometheus; I want you out
of my life. I know you’ll be able to find me if you want to; I hope
you won’t want to.”

“Fair enough.”

And that was that.

Of course, I bought the ticket for the first
leg with the old man’s credit, so he knew where I was headed
initially. I assume the stealthed floater that watched me board the
liner
Eridania
two days later was his, but maybe Kumiko sent
it, or someone who’d noticed the payments I’d piled up, or even
just IRC, keeping track of their gritlisters. I didn’t worry about
it; I wasn’t going directly to my final destination. In fact, while
I had chosen where I wanted to go, I might well change my mind
before I got there. I planned to spend a few thousand hours
traveling, one planet to the next, before I settled down. After
all, I could afford it, and if I was giving up my home, why settle
for just
one
new world? I intended to look at a dozen.