trench-coat, standing before a grey slab of metal, reaching out to touch a metal tree with his right hand.
Bairn looked on. “That’s nice,” she said. “It reminds me of something.”
“Mmmm. Let’s have some furniture.”
As a low padded circle rose from the floor, Kevin pulled a thin sheet of plastic from his suit. He smiled as he looked at it, then let it flutter to the floor.
“That should make things more interesting,” he said. “Now, shall we wait for them outside?”
“Kevin?” Bairn said suddenly.
“Yes?”
“Do they have to die?”
“You make it sound like it’s some big deal,” Kevin replied. “I do it all the time.”
He stepped out through the wall of the apartment and back into space. Bairn was pulled along with him to float naked above the Earth.
Helen had changed into a one-piece black passive suit. Her blond hair had been tied back in a ponytail and then sprayed with a flexible black plastic coating that kept it fixed in place. She stood with her hands on her hips, gazing down through the transparent base of the factory at a fissioning section of the Shawl beneath her. She had made herself up to look like Judy: her black lips were taut against a white-painted face.
“I don’t know what point you’re trying to make,” Judy said, glancing across at her.
“And you a Social Care operative, too,” Helen said snidely.
It was cold in this section of the factory. Their breath came in white puffs, cold against the blue light that illuminated the open space.
“You don’t have to come along with me,” Judy reminded her, watching another unattached section of the Shawl spin into view.
“I want to find Kevin. I want to meet the person who did this to me.”
“Why?”
Helen folded her arms and said nothing. She was standing on a thin sheet of plastic, just a few centimeters separating her from hard vacuum and the long fall to Earth. She was at the focus of one of the Watcher’s greatest artifacts, the factory: the region through which materials from around the galaxy were funneled to provide the raw materials for the Shawl. It was the EA’s equivalent of the water and the carbon cycle: a living space that was born and died made up of sections formed of matter from the Earth, from the Enemy Domain, from the farthest reaches of human expansion. The space below made her think of a great melting pot. The spinning, fissioning sections of the Shawl seemed to boil and bubble like soup in a cauldron. All those materials being mixed together, eventually to fall to Earth.
Judy had explained it all to her. What she hadn’t explained was
“Hello, Three. Hello, Helen.”
Another Judy was approaching, walking over the slight curve in the transparent lens that looked down on the volume of the Source. Her kimono was black, her face white, and yet there were subtle differences between her and the Judy that Helen had come to know.
“Hello, Helen. Hi, Four. Hi, Three.”
And then another Judy was there, and another. Helen looked around as she found herself in the center of a constricting circle of digital Judys. She counted eight of them. All black-and-white, all subtly different. All of them wore impassive expressions, and yet Helen could feel how they were watching her. She could sense something, a faint disapproval. She got the impression that it wasn’t directed at her. Emotions were stronger at the moment- maybe the aftereffects of the MTPH Judy 3 had let her take earlier. Judy 3. They weren’t sure about Judy 3-that was what they were thinking. Was Judy 3 doing the right thing in letting Helen come along? Helen shivered, feeling unsettled. Why were they all so concerned about her own presence here?
One of the Judys stood forward. It was a bizarre sight. Eight black-and-white women standing on a great transparent lake over the swirl of the Earth. Helen swallowed.
The new Judy spoke: “Eleven asked me to speak on her behalf.”
“Where
“I don’t know. Neither do we know where Two and Nine are.”
“The Watcher?”
“The EA?”
The words came from random points in the circle. It wasn’t so much as if they were having a conversation, more as if one person was speaking to herself. Helen looked around, feeling dizzy. Eight immobile black-and-white statues standing on nothing, and her, caught in the middle of the dream.
“The atomic Judy has seen a robot.”
“The Watcher is warning us off.”
“But why be so obscure?”
Not all of this conversation was in words. Helen caught the gestures, the signs made by people who knew each other as well as they knew themselves. How did they stay so constant? Why did the different Judys’ personalities not diverge? And why had they chosen to all stay the same?
“Something happened far off, at the edge of the galaxy.”
“The secret is out.”
“The Watcher can’t stop it spreading now.”
“If it wants to…”
“Eva Rye.”
“Justinian Sibelius.”
“Need to find him…”
“Judy 11.”
“The Private Network.”
“Kevin.”
Helen looked up at that point. All of the Judys but one were gazing at her. Judy 3 was the only one looking down at a fissioning section of the Shawl below.
“What’s the matter?” Helen asked.
“What do you know of Kevin?” It was one of the Judys-the one who spoke on behalf of Eleven.
Helen looked around. She felt annoyed to be spoken to like this, just another pawn in the Judys’ games. More, though, she was driven into a cold fury at the sound of Kevin’s name.
“Kevin? He’s the bastard responsible for the Private Network.”
“Partly responsible.”
“I don’t care. He nearly had me raped.”
“He
And then they were off again, speaking in broken sentences and that obscure sign language of their own.
“…Justinian died…”
“…Eva Rye insisted…”
“…the Watcher knew…”
“…David Schummel…”
“…atomic Judy is on her way to see him now…”
“…Kevin is here…”
“…long suspected…”
“…find Kevin…”
“…Three…”
“…Eleven…”
“…Three…”
“…Three…”
“…Eleven…”
“…Three…”
