CAPACITY

Judy shot Helen a warning glare, but Helen just stood gazing, her arms firmly wrapped around her breasts, more for warmth than modesty.

“Kevin just seemed to know what I wanted, Judy. No offense, but he left Social Care standing. I didn’t know I had those wishes myself until he reached inside me and drew them out.”

“Zinman…” Judy warned.

“Okay, they were my wishes. I suspected they were there, but it was Kevin who gave me the chance to live them. He kindled the fire. There’s something about Kevin. You wouldn’t know unless you’d met him. He’s not like most people. He’s old-fashioned. Out of time, like he’s not really a man at all. More of a…” He looked at Helen and something awoke in his eyes. “Oh…” he began.

“Is he the one who persuaded you to make a personality construct of yourself?” Judy said quickly.

“Yes, I suppose he was,” Zinman said in some surprise. “I never thought about that before. I used to interface with his processing spaces from the atomic world, but Kevin persuaded me that it would be more satisfying if I was in there with the…clients.”

“Victims, Zinman. Say the word.”

“Victims.” A thought occurred to him, a difficult one. “He had me in his power as soon as I did that, didn’t he?”

“That will be something for you to think about later. Have you met Kevin since you had this PC made?”

“Oh, yes, many times. He used to come to my processing space all the time. Always with his servant in tow.”

“What did he come there for? Recreation?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think so. I think he got his kicks on a more mental plane than I did. He liked controlling people without having to touch them. Now there’s power.” He blinked, looking into Judy’s black eyes. “You’ve done something to me, haven’t you? It’s like I’m seeing things clearly for the first time.”

“I’m good at my job,” Judy said.

“You are. But you’re like Kevin, aren’t you? You’re doing to me what he does. You both manipulate people: get them to do what you want. Did the Watcher teach you that?”

“I’ve never met the Watcher.”

“No, but you follow its wishes.” Zinman shook his head. “That’s what I mean, Judy: we have no free will out here. We only do what we are told, whether we are aware of it or not.”

“I asked about Kevin,” Judy said. “If you wanted to, could you summon him?”

“Penumbra is the only place to live.” Zinman’s voice sounded slurred. He looked back and forth, trying to concentrate on something. “Kevin lives in the Shawl. He is made in the factory, over and over again. In the factory. Over and over again. Oh. I think I…Over and over…”

His voice faded away, leaving him staring into space.

“What have you done to him?” Helen asked.

“Nothing.” Judy frowned. “I think that something has been done to-Hold on.” She reached out and took hold of her console. “I’m calling up his VRep.”

She studied the shape that formed in the air before her: a loop of tape clunking round and round between two hemispheres. “But that’s impossible!” she murmured in disbelief. “I thought we cured that years ago.”

“Cured what?” Helen asked nervously.

“Recursion. The White Death. I guess Kevin didn’t want him telling us any more about how to find him. He got a recursive meme into Zinman’s head.” She bit her lip. “We’d better get back up to the Shawl. We’ll take the direct route. I want to talk this over with my sisters. There’s something strange going on here. I’m beginning to wonder about Kevin. I think there is more to this than just the Private Network.”

She stood up and made to go, but was halted by the expression on Helen’s face.

“What’s the matter?”

“Is he dead?” Helen stared at Zinman.

“Not exactly, but his mind is in a loop. I doubt if we can get it out of that.”

“Good,” said Helen. “He deserved it.”

“It’s not for us to say who deserves what,” Judy replied.

“Really. Except you, maybe?”

“No, not even me.”

Helen stared at Judy. “He was playing with my mind, wasn’t he? Literally shaping my thought patterns!”

“Not literally, Helen, but even as a PC your mind is dependent on your virtual body. People like Zinman are experts at warping your hormones and glands and sending your mind curving off down other paths.”

“And you let him do it!” Helen’s voice cracked.

“No, you let him do it. Helen, the next time you go to Penumbra, you won’t have me to look after you. You have to learn to handle these things on your own.”

Helen gazed deeply into Judy’s calm eyes. There was a tiny flicker there, just enough to convince Helen that her suspicions were correct.

“But that’s not all there was to it, is it, Judy? You liked what happened to me in there. You enjoyed watching them take me apart. You knew that you could stop them at any moment, so essentially I was safe, but even so, you let them do it.”

“I took no enjoyment in watching, Helen.”

“Hah! I don’t believe you. Watching is what you do, Judy. Like Zinman said, it’s how all the people in Social Care get their yayas.”

“We always accuse others of what we wish to do ourselves, Helen.”

“But that’s the point, Judy. I’ve done it all. You’re the one who hasn’t. You’re the virgin. You’re the one who gets her kicks by listening in to the illicit memories of others.”

She tore a last piece of rose thorn from her hair and flung it to the ground.

“I’m beginning to understand what Zinman was talking about. The Transition is a huge confidence trick. The Watcher has laid down the path that it wants us all to follow, and you willingly steer us along it saying it is for our own good. Hypocrites! You’re all hypocrites!”

The Atomic Judy 3: 2240

Ten years ago, when she was nineteen, Judy had known everything. She wore her chastity like a shield between her black kimono and her lithe body, and she walked with a calm self-assurance that allowed the former to spice the latter. Her black hair was pulled up to reveal her long white neck sliding smoothly down to the promise of her naked body beneath her clothes.

“Into the main hall,” Frances said, speaking through Judy’s console. “I think that’s where I should like it to take place.”

Judy walked through a door like any other and into the huge space of the factory. A woman in a white jumpsuit was gazing up at a great yellow wishbone being pulled slowly from two flat pools of golden liquid set in the floor. She straightened up as she saw Judy and gave her an inquiring smile.

“It’s all right, Ms. Barbucci; she’s with me.” The woman’s expression changed to something like respect as Frances’ voice sounded from her console.

“You must be Judy,” she said, taking her by the arm. “Come this way. I have some things laid out waiting.”

She led Judy around the low lip of one of the circular pools from which they were pulling the wishbone. The syrupy liquid it contained seemed no more than a few centimeters deep, yet as they circled its calm surface, Judy saw another half-meter or so of smooth yellow material slide from the pool.

“The finished object must be all one piece,” explained Ms. Barbucci, pointing upwards to where her leg of the wishbone joined the one emerging from the other pool.

“What’s it for?” The yellow shape was beautiful in its flawless way, possessing a balance and symmetry to its sweeping form.