Against Gravity

"I need you to find out who programmed something." Kendrick described the hotel's door environment, while Malky listened with apparent interest.

"Looks like the Archimedes? Interesting." Todd nodded towards the eepsheet he'd been watching as they'd entered. The preacher was now holding an old-style wand to his ear, in order, presumably, to better demonstrate the act of speaking to God. Another window opened on the eepsheet, showing an alternative view of the same preacher wearing flowing robes and a long white wig that crackled with computer-generated lightning. The berobed version looked down on his other self, zapping the wand with cartoon lightning.

Todd noted Kendrick's interest and nodded towards the images. "You ever watch this stuff?"

"I'm… afraid not."

Todd laughed nervously. "Stop looking so worried. You know I get off on shit like this. It tickles me. And, you know, that's what helped sink Wilber. Economically speaking, building something the size and complexity of the Archimedes took up a serious chunk of the USA's a

"Todd," Kendrick gently interrupted him, "I know all this – remember?"

Todd blinked, then his face coloured. "Sorry, forgot," he muttered sheepishly.

Though Todd's nerdish enthusiasms often ran away with him, Kendrick warmed to him nonetheless. "It's true that a lot of people still believe in Wilber's message, though," he added, by way of a gentle prompt.

Todd nodded eagerly. "Actually, this particular cha

Kendrick tried to frame his response as diplomatically as possible. "Wilber would use any lies that came to hand in order to gain power – and hold it."

"Look, I'm serious," Todd protested. "I'm far from being the religious type, but for all Wilber's craziness about using the Archimedes as a testing ground for building some kind of techno-rapture gridlink to God, the people he had working on it were real scientists. A lot of the people who tune in to RaptureNet, they're old guys who worked in the science industries before the LA Nuke. And regardless of whether or not they actually are religious-minded in the old-fashioned sense, they go for that whole Tipler consciousness-at-the-end-of-time thing."

"Look, Todd, I just need your help in finding out who did this thing."

"And wouldn't I like to know why," Todd chuckled. "Okay, okay, just kidding. It's no problem – right, Mikhail?"

"Absolutely," Malky replied.

"I mean, it's not like this is secret information, right?" Todd continued, his grin growing wider.

"You're asking because, say, you admire the skill of the artist involved?"

"I'm asking because I'd really like to know who did it." Kendrick tried unsuccessfully to keep an edge out of his voice.

Todd nodded. "How's Car doing?"

"You mean Caroline?"

Todd smiled. "Listen, Ken, this one's for free. I can tell you for a fact that Caroline produced that display on commission."

"Caroline?"

Todd wore a satisfied smirk. "You sound surprised. It's the kind of thing she does, after all."

It was indeed. "I should have thought of that, Todd. Thank you. I owe you one."

"No problem. So what's so special about some display based on the Archimedes, anyway?"

"To be honest, I'm not sure."

"Now, that's not really an answer."

"I know, I know, but it's the only one I'm giving you right now. Sorry."

Todd nodded with a gentle smile. "Got another question for you, then, just to make us even."

"Sure."

"What do you think is up there?" Todd asked. "What's up there that prevents anyone getting back on board the Archimedes?"

Kendrick frowned. Todd was clearly just looking for more fuel to feed his endless obsession with conspiracy theories. "Christ, Todd. There's nothing complicated about it. Nobody's dumb enough to try and get on board that thing while the place is swarming with runaway nanites."

"Yeah?" Todd's eyes glinted. "But sometimes, on the Grid, you hear rumours. You hear rumours."

16 October 2096 Edinburgh

Kendrick still had at least a little money left over from the post-Maze trials, remnants of the compensation he'd received. Unfortunately, the money had been paid in dollars, an already badly devalued currency by that time. Kendrick's financial acumen was not great but he knew enough to transfer the funds into other currencies and store it in European Legislate accounts before it devalued any further.

Which hadn't stopped a lot of that money slipping away in the meantime, but at least it gave him a means of keeping himself alive when times were lean. Careful investment had helped stretch the funds out, but Hardenbrooke's treatments had cut deep.

However, the money could only last so much longer. Occasional freelance journalism – under a variety of assumed names, of course, each with its own bank account – did help to bolster things, but the sporadic nature of such work meant that it was ultimately little more than a stopgap.

Now he would need to seek out new sources of income, without the European Legislate finding out any more about him than he wanted it to.

A few years before, Kendrick had signed a contract with a Grid news agency to work as a freelance stringer, having the advantage that he could file stories while remaining largely anonymous. But now there was the chance of something more permanent, which might mean moving south to London, or possibly somewhere in mainland Europe.

That would be good but, because he was a Labrat, there were some serious risks involved.

Which was why Malky so often proved useful in these matters. There was always the slim chance that background checks could lead to Kendrick's real identity being exposed. Altering the necessary records to maintain his independence was a risky operation all on its own, but creating a personality that would allow him to work fully above board in the media – well, all he had to do was decide if it was worth the risk.

Either that or he'd have to find some other way of making a living before the last of his money finally ran out.

As far as the incident at the Armoured Saint was concerned, it appeared that the heat was now off. Todd had done his job well: Kendrick had been scrubbed from the security records.

So what do I do now? he asked himself, waking in his own bed the next morning. A half-packed duffel bag still sat near the door, but thoughts of fleeing after the incident at the Armoured Saint had faded following his encounter with Marlin Smeby. Besides, he realized belatedly, if the Legislate had developed any concerns over his identity he would have known about it long before now.

His meeting with Smeby had occupied Kendrick's thoughts while he was sleeping as much as they had earlier when he'd been awake. Taking up any offer from Draeger was a wrong move, he knew that. What he'd been promised might not even be true – but even so, why couldn't he stop thinking about it? Why had he just accepted that information and left so meekly, without trying to find out anything more about why Draeger was so interested in him?

Perhaps he wasn't the hero he would have liked to be. He didn't want to die any more than anyone else did. When Smeby had offered the rest of his life to him, he'd very nearly gone down on his knees in gratitude at the hint of such a chance. He'd left the Arlington hotel disgusted with himself, having told Smeby that he'd need to think further about any face-to-face meeting with Draeger.