Tears in Rain Part 34

"Yes, but why the rush to finish me off? Right now I can provide them with a lot of airtime and be very useful to them. I'll appear everywhere as the rep a.s.sa.s.sin. But it looks like they're desperate to liquidate me. Yesterday they sent that guy, and today it's Habib himself, who I don't think is a minor player in the game. They're risking a lot to kill me. Why?"

Lizard rubbed his fleshy forehead.

"What do you think?"

"My son. The memory of my son. It was so real! And all that love and that pain."

Bruna shivered.

"It still smarts inside. Listen, what if they used real memories as a model? Some memorists do that. I know mine did. That would certainly have been easier for them than inventing something sufficiently intense and believable. What if that child really existed? What if they're afraid I can still remember something? I mean, what if they're scared I can remember them?"

"And could you?" asked Lizard with interest. "The salt crystal has already dissolved."

"But there are bits still left...tiny fragments of feeling, although they're rapidly erasing themselves. Just as the memory of a dream is wiped out as the day progresses."

"Well then, give it a go right now. Try. What do you need?"

"Quiet. Concentration. Maybe darkness would help."

Luckily, the windows had venetian blinds, which Lizard lowered. The room was plunged into a cold semidarkness. They sat down at the work table, as far from the body as they could. With her back to Habib, Bruna leaned her elbows on the table, buried her face in her hands and tried to remember.

It was like descending into a cellar in the shadows. A chubby little hand. That was the first thing she saw. A plump baby hand with little dimples on the knuckles.

A sudden pain constricted her throat. Oh, that touching, uniquely beautiful hand of her son! That child for whom she was prepared to die and to kill!

The memories-broken, fragmented-kept arriving like the flotsam from a shipwreck that waves deposit on the sh.o.r.e. A crash of the sea, and the image of a child appeared, running after a ball, sweaty and happy, bubbles of foam. And now she was seeing Gummy in the hollow of his cot, waking up, his lips still puffy from sleep.

That child for whom she was prepared to die and to kill.

Pain was circling around the bottom of her brain like a shark.

Gummy singing, Gummy whimpering, not really wanting to cry. Houses and stairs, tree-lined avenues dappled with sunlight, the sound of the wind. The child smiling from someone's arms. That smiling child was very still. And the person holding him in her lap was still as well. It was a photo. And the person holding the child was definitely a woman. To kill and to die. Bruna knew that woman. She was young and she was dressed in a different style, but she knew her without a shadow of doubt. The rep opened her eyes.

"It's RoyRoy."

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT.

After Habib's death, the revelations succeeded one another with devilish speed. It's like the final stages of a jigsaw puzzle, thought Bruna, when the few remaining pieces begin to fit in place at a dizzying pace as if they're attracting one another, until the gap that's left, the final unknown piece, is closed, finally revealing the entire design.

In Habib's office they found a second computer that, although protected by a sophisticated security system, was easily accessed by the experts and revealed a mine of essential information, including the material used to create the threatening holograph sent to Chi, and an encoded list of contacts that they were meticulously a.n.a.lyzing. The anatomical-recognition program proved that the eye reflected in the butcher's knife belonged to Habib himself. That it was his eye, as apparent as the eye of the Helix nebula, was an obvious conclusion that had, however, never occurred to Bruna. It was no doubt Habib who had provided Chi with the information about the first dead replicants and who had left the threatening ball in her office. It was Habib who suggested they should infiltrate the HSP, and who sent the chip to Nabokov so she'd go mad. That data chip was what he must have been looking for so desperately when he and Bruna were searching Chi's apartment. He was always around, that d.a.m.n Habib, but the detective didn't see him.

One of the first names they were able to decode from the list of contacts turned out to be that of a second-rate racist bully who'd already had problems with the law over a.s.saults and public indecency. The man was arrested at his house like a rat in a trap, and an hour later, he was confessing all that he knew-which wasn't a lot, apart from the fact that the Democratic State of Cosmos also seemed to be connected somehow to the whole business. The police actually already knew about the connection, since their experts had been able to break into Habib's computer only because his sophisticated security system came from Cosmos, and the system had already been broken earlier by Earthling spies.

And as for RoyRoy, Lizard himself led the operation that went to retrieve her from Yiannis's house, but when they arrived, she wasn't there. She had disappeared, leaving behind all her belongings, including a stunned and desolate archivist. Perhaps the billboard-lady had arranged that Habib would give her a coded call when he'd accomplished his mission and had decided to flee when the call didn't come through. The central ID database spent hours a.n.a.lyzing some pictures Yiannis had taken of RoyRoy, and in the end it found that her real name was Olga Ainho and she was a famous biochemist who had disappeared fifteen years earlier. An apartment in the Salamanca district had been rented using Ainho's ID tag, and in the apartment they found a small lab with the capacity to synthesize neurotoxins, as well as doc.u.ments with various images, the majority of them recordings of scientific experiments. But there was also a close-up of Hericio's evisceration with a spine-chilling audio of Ainho explaining to her paralyzed victim why she was doing it to him.

Bruna had spent all the previous day, Tuesday, and that night in detention, but the avalanche of evidence ended up exonerating her. The duty magistrate had released her at 10:00 on Wednesday morning, and it was now 10:38 and she was having breakfast with Lizard in a cafe near the courts. The inspector had been waiting for her at the door of the courts when she walked out.

"When I recall the fuss Habib made about me not telling him where I was-ha! By that stage he already knew that I was at the circus. It was Yiannis who suggested I go there, and Yiannis was with RoyRoy. What a despicable fraud," mumbled Bruna with her mouth full of a sticky bun.

"Lately we've been recording all the RRM communications. A security measure. I guess Habib was establishing an alibi when he called you," Paul commented.

"Not just that! He also called me so that his henchman would be able to locate me inside the circus. The sound and light from the mobile led that character straight to me. What I can't understand is why Habib was open to doing all this."

"Money or power. Which ends up being the same thing. Those are always the basic reasons."

"Do you think so? In this case, I'm not so sure. A rep activist collaborating in a supremacist plot targeting reps? And working for Cosmos, a power on whose territory technos are banned? I don't see why he'd take part in a plan that might lead to his own extermination."

Ever since the plot had begun to unravel, there had been a storm raging inside Bruna's head. A flood of facts, churning and clashing and pairing up with one another in search of meaning. The rep needed to reinterpret and untangle what had happened. Now she realized, for example, that if the enemy always seemed to know of her movements, it was because the archivist was telling RoyRoy everything. Ainho, that is. She felt a p.r.i.c.k of resentment toward her garrulous friend, but it was immediately diluted with compa.s.sion. Poor Yiannis. He must be devastated. To discover that the woman with whom he had fallen in love was a monster capable of coldly disemboweling someone must be terrifying. Moreover, everyone knew that emotions inevitably affected the brain cells. That was why she didn't want to fall in love again. She threw a discreet glance in Lizard's direction, and he seemed stronger to her than ever. A wall of flesh and bones. A man so big that he was blocking out her light. The inspector had cut everything on his plate-the fried eggs and the entire slice of ham-flavored soy-into small uniform pieces, and now he was rhythmically eating the little squares, leaving the egg yolks till last. He was like a child, an enormous child. A moist warmth flooded Bruna's chest. The gooey softness of affection.

"Thanks for coming to get me this morning. It was very thoughtful."

"Actually, I came to make you a semiofficial proposition," grunted Paul.

Bruna choked on her bun. She leaned back in her chair feeling ridiculous. Whenever she let her emotions go, she ended up burned. Four years, three months, and nine days. She hastened to compose her features into a serious, professional, somewhat disdainful expression.

"Oh, a proposal. Excellent. What is it?"

"We've just found out that Olga Ainho is a member of the diplomatic corps of the Emba.s.sy of Cosmos. Unbelievable, isn't it? She's never appeared publically in anything connected with the delegation, but she is accredited. And we think that's where she's taken refuge. I got the amba.s.sador out of his bed, and he didn't take it at all well. He denies that the woman has committed any crime, he talks of fake evidence and an orchestrated campaign, and says that Ainho has full diplomatic immunity."

"In other words, he's admitted that she's there."

"In reality, no. Officially, the Cosmics categorically refuse to collaborate and the matter is turning into a sort of international incident. In short, the amba.s.sador is an idiot, but it would seem that behind the scenes they're trying to defuse the situation. They've called to tell us that the ministerial counselor has agreed to receive us. An informal meeting, they stressed. At his home. At 12:00 sharp."

"Receive us?"

"I thought you might like to come along," said Lizard.

His fleshy cheeks crowded together into an irresistible smile that lit up his entire face. Nothing remotely like his usual sarcastic, tight-lipped, disdainful sneer. The warmth of that radiant expression softened the rep again.

"You should smile more often," she said in an unexpectedly hoa.r.s.e and intimate tone.

Lizard closed up like a Venus flytrap. He swallowed the last piece of his egg, gulped down his coffee, and stood up.

"Shall we go?"

And Bruna again felt like a complete idiot.

The members of the Cosmos diplomatic delegation lived on the top floors of the emba.s.sy. The building was a huge, truncated, inverted pyramid, so the widest part was on top. However, while the first ten floors were gla.s.s and totally transparent, the top four floors were clad with huge blocks of stone and windowless. The result was disturbing. It looked as if, at any moment, the heavy stone ma.s.s was going to pulverize its gla.s.s base. Whereas the headquarters of the Labarians was a neo-Gothic and archaic building, this one was neofuturistic and subverted traditional values, perhaps to symbolize the social subversion the Cosmics espoused. Either way, both buildings were inhuman and oppressive. The section clad in stone was reserved as residences for the legation; the more powerful you were, the higher up the pyramid you lived. As the ministerial counselor was second in command, his residence, which he shared with two other high-ranking officials, was one floor from the top. The vast top floor, the biggest one, the one that was oppressively squashing all the other floors, housed the amba.s.sador. That relentless hierarchical architecture must also have a lot to do with life on Cosmos, thought Bruna.

Inside, the emba.s.sy resembled a military barracks. Ultramodern and technological, of course, but like a barracks. Austere, monochromatic, and full of diligent soldiers who walked as if they had a metal rod instead of a spine. A female officer in an impeccable uniform accompanied them to the door of the minister's apartment. A robot opened the door and led them into the living room, a s.p.a.cious room with no windows but with two walls totally covered by 3-D images of the Floating World. It really felt as if they were in s.p.a.ce.

"Pretty, isn't it?" said the minister as he came into the room. "I'm Copa Square. Coffee, a soft drink, an energy drink?"

"No, thank you."

Square asked the robot for a ginseng concentrate and sat down in an armchair. He was a tall man with perfect features. So perfect that they could only be the product of a knife wielded by a good surgeon. Not a single catalog item here.

"You understand this is strictly off the record and, that said, also a sign of our goodwill. Despite the Earthling campaign of slander and deceit."

He was smiling as he said this, but it was a cold smile. He was one of those people who use courtesy as a veiled form of threat. A fairly common occurrence among diplomats.

"I thought the idea of an unofficial meeting meant we were going to be able to dispense with the usual cliches. You know Ainho did it," Lizard said calmly.

Copa Square's smile became more p.r.o.nounced. As did his coldness.

"Ainho has already left Earth, protected by her diplomatic status. An emba.s.sy vehicle took her to the orbital elevator, and by now she will be arriving at Cosmos. It makes no difference whether she did it or not. You are never going to be able to put her on trial, and on Cosmos they will never know what happened here. In a way, it is as if everything that happened here was...nonexistent."

"Yes, I know that on Cosmos you have strict censorship, but I never thought you'd brag about it."

"And yet it is something to be proud of. In the first place, technologically. Creating technology capable of filtering and controlling the vigorous, multip.r.o.nged flow of information is a scientific accomplishment. But on top of that, and even more importantly, it is an ethical and political achievement. The population does not need to know about anything that can be manipulated and misunderstood. Our people do not believe in G.o.ds. They do not believe in riches. On Cosmos, as you know, private property and money do not exist. The state provides, and individuals receive according to their needs. But the human being has to believe in something in order to live. And our citizens believe in the ultimate truth, in happiness and social justice. We are building paradise on our Floating World. I know reality is complex and contradictory, and it has to be managed from the shadows. But that ultimate truth has to remain pure and clean so that the people will not become disillusioned. In order to protect all those ordinary people who do not understand that the shadows exist."

"So I see...it's a curious paradise of believers run by cynics," interjected Bruna sarcastically.

"If you are saying that for my benefit, you're confused. You have no idea the extent to which I believe in that truth, which burns at the heart of everything I do."

Square was silent for a few seconds, looking at Bruna quizzically.

"You are the technohuman that Ainho manipulated. I can understand that you would be outraged. But in reality, everything that happened to you is a consequence of what you are. You androids are so artificial."

"Is that why we are forbidden on Cosmos?" Bruna asked, trying to contain her rage.

"For that reason, and because you were conceived as slaves. You are too different. You do not fit into our egalitarian society."

"You say that what happened has to do with the artificiality of reps, and I a.s.sume you're referring to the mem implants and such," Lizard interrupted hurriedly before Bruna could reply. "But we know that before Unification, Ainho was working on a secret EU plan to develop behavior-inducing implants for humans. So our brain is just as capable of being manipulated as theirs."

It had been a shot in the dark up to a point, but it landed.

"That EU plan you refer to is typical of Earthling hypocrisy: big, public condemnations of censorship, but at the same time, you are full of dirty secrets. That project was dismantled overnight, and all of Ainho's work was confiscated. Almost twenty years of research. And since she refused to accept the situation, her career was destroyed. A heroic achievement on the part of the free world."

"Of course on Cosmos there are no individual professional careers. Just one unique and great career-of the political hierarchy," muttered Bruna.

"And you immediately offered her your protection," said Lizard, disregarding the rep's comment.

"Olga Ainho is a great scientist and the DSC needs every conceivable a.s.sistance to advance its project."

"But she doesn't share your ideological pa.s.sion, does she? She didn't strike me as a paradise enthusiast," said Bruna.

"Ainho's is a privileged mind, but she's a wounded woman. Her sixteen-year-old son had the idea of surrept.i.tiously breaking into the closed-down lab to retrieve his mother's files, and he was gunned down by the security guards-who, it must be said, were technos. Combat androids like yourself."

Which explains the sadism, that perverse detail of gouging out one's own, or other people's, eyes, reflected Bruna with a shiver. What a sick woman.

"Ainho never overcame it," continued the Cosmic. "She is pathologically obsessed with her son's death. She lives solely for revenge, and that sometimes causes a person to commit grave errors. In fact, that could be a good explanation of what has happened. A hypothetical and totally unofficial explanation, naturally."

"Aha! You mean that a mentally unstable Ainho conceived a megalomaniacal plan of revenge against Earth in general and technos in particular," said Lizard.

"Hypothetically, that could be the case."

"And Cosmos has now repatriated her and offered her shelter out of sheer generosity," added the rep.

"We have many enemies and we need every conceivable support, as I have already said. She may be unhinged, but she is a genius. We would not want to have to do without a scientist of her stature. Hypothetically."

"Why do you bother to receive us and offer us this absurd explanation? We are nothing more than a small regional investigative squad, but without doubt, all of Earth's secret services now know that you're stirring up social conflicts to destabilize the USE," said Lizard calmly.

Square gave him a withering, aristocratic look of disdain.

"The Democratic State of Cosmos is a neutral state and is totally respectful of existing legislation."

"Come on, Square, you know we're in a secret state of war. The Second Cold War. And cold wars sometimes become too heated. Between you and the Ones, you have all the terrorist groups on the planet on your payroll. You'll do anything so long as it debilitates the United States of the Earth and increases your power and influence. Speaking of which, that small detail of the fake tattoos struck me as exquisitely Machiavellian. You also managed, in pa.s.sing, to compromise the Kingdom of Labari."

The diplomat raised his beautiful eyebrows a little.

"I have no interest in continuing to listen to your tired cliches and your insults, so I think this is the moment to put an end to our conversation."

"Just one more question: How did you persuade Habib?" asked the rep.

The minister looked at her with a strange expression of malevolent delight, like a snake contemplating its paralyzed prey before devouring it.

"I did not convince anyone. You continue to be wrong about me. But I will tell you something about Habib. He had lived sixteen years. What do you think about that? You believe that all you technos have to die at ten years of age, but that is not the case. We have scientific knowledge at our disposal that makes it possible for technos to live much longer-twenty years, even thirty. And if truth be told, that knowledge would also be available to Earthlings if they were genuinely interested in developing it. How do you feel now, Bruna Husky, knowing that there are other androids who do not die so early? Are you not revolted by this famously free world that cannot even be bothered to do research into TTT because it is not profitable? Would you not be prepared to offer your services to Cosmos in order to be able to live even one year longer? Would you not be prepared to do anything?"

Lizard almost had to drag her out of the emba.s.sy. He had her gripped firmly by the arm, and it was thanks to this that the rep was capable of walking along corridors, going down stairs, and making it to the street, because otherwise she would have been paralyzed by the weight of her thoughts and by panic. By her fear of death, and her own anger, and her desperate desire to live.

They got into the car and Lizard took Bruna to her apartment and went in with her, because he felt she was still too upset. Once inside, the inspector-who seemed to be permanently hungry-suggested they make something to eat.

"Eating cheers you up. That's why they used to have that tradition of banquets at funerals."

So, to Bruna's amazement, the inspector prepared a rice dish into which he threw everything he could find in the food dispenser: peas, shrimp, green onions, eggs, cheese. And then they sat down and ate and drank in silence. When they were opening the second bottle of wine, the detective dared to extend a bridge over the abyss that had opened up in her mind.

"They don't all die, Paul. There are reps who don't die."

"They do die, like everyone else. Just a bit later. And I a.s.sure you that those extra years won't be enough for them. They're never enough. No matter how long you live, it's never enough."

"It's not fair."

Lizard nodded in agreement.

"Life is unfair, Bruna."

That was what Nopal was always saying: Life hurts. The rep remembered the memorist with a surprising stab of nostalgia. With the intuition that he would understand her.

Just then there was a knock at the door. It was a robot courier, sent by Mirari. It left a box in the middle of the lounge, a rather large box, covered profusely with "Fragile" stickers. Intrigued, Bruna opened the package. A furry ball shot out of the container and attached itself to the rep's neck with a shriek.