ahead they were thinking once Bethany spurred them on. The population pressures we’d been facing were nothing compared with what was about to be unleashed. A race of semi-immortals with the potential to increase their numbers at a near-exponential rate simply by using the old-fashioned natural method of reproduction — never mind artificial wombs and cloning techniques.
To think, when I was young, I used to worry that our early petrol engine cars would use up all the oil reserves. Within weeks of Bethany’s biononic modules coming on-line family spaceships charged off across the solar system to lay claim to any and every chunk of matter a telescope had ever detected. The most disgraceful, shameful year of post-Second Era history. A year of madness and greed, when all our rationality seemed to crumble before the forces of avarice. The Crisis Conference of ’65 managed to calm things down a little. Thankfully, every family rejected the Rothschild claim on the sun. And the rest of the solar system was apportioned almost equally. We Raleighs came out of it with Titan as well as a joint claim — with fifteen other families — on Saturn. But the Caesars still had Jupiter, consolidating their position as the foremost human family. And the FTL starship project was born, the agreement most accredited with easing the tension.
The function of family councils changed to that of resource allocators, enabling us to enforce the original legal framework that underpinned civilization. Controlling the distribution of raw matter was economics stripped down to its crudest level. But it worked, after a fashion, allowing us to retain order and balance. Given the circumstances, it was a better outcome than I would have predicted.
The last of the compression drive’s scarlet light drained away from the sky, taking with it the strange double shadows cast by the oak. I began instructing the FAI to contact a senior representative of the Lockett family.
Christine Jayne Lockett was a stark reminder that I really ought to get myself reset. Men always suffer from the same casual illusion that we simply became more handsome as we matured, and were increasingly desirable as a result. What tosh.
When she walked into my office in the Meridor Manor all I could see was the bitterness leaking from her face. It spoiled her features, a near-permanent scowl highlighting the wrinkles accumulating around her eyes and across her cheeks. Her hair was still long, but not cared for with any great enthusiasm. And the clothes she wore were at least a century out of date; they looked handmade, and badly at that. Paint flecked her hands, lying thick under short, cracked nails.
The small file of personal data which my AI had collected for me told of how she now lived out in the countryside in a naturalist community. They grew their own food, made their own utensils, smoked their hallucinogenics, and generally avoided contact with the rest of their family. No biononics were allowed across the threshold of their compound, although they did have a net interface to call for medical help if any of their number had an accident.
She stalked over to my desk and thrust her face up against mine. ‘Oppressive bastard! Who the hell do you think you are? How dare you have me arrested and forced away from my home like this. I’ve done nothing wrong.’ It was almost a scream.
The Lockett family representative who was accompanying her gave me a tired grimace. Apparently Christine Jayne Lockett had refused point blank to use an airpod, insisting she travelled by groundcar. It had taken them eight hours to drive to the institute from northern England.
‘Oh yes you have.’
My voice was so cold she recoiled.
‘You and Carter Osborne Kenyon are the only people left on my suspect list,’ I said. ‘And now I’m finally going to discover the truth.’
‘But Carter was with me for the whole evening.’
I directed a mirthless smile at her. ‘Yes.’
It took a moment for the implication to sink in. Her mouth widened in astonishment. ‘Holy Mary, you think we did it together, don’t you? You think we killed that poor, poor boy.’
‘The rest of the alibis all check out. You two provided each other’s alibi. It’s the only weak link left.’
‘You utter shit!’ She sat down heavily in my visitor’s chair, staring at me with malice and disbelief. ‘So you wait all this time until you’re some super-duper big shot, and exploit your position to pressure my family into handing me over to you, all so you can erase a blemish on your record.’ Her gaze switched to her family representative. ‘Gutless coward!’ she snarled at him. ‘The Locketts aren’t this feeble that we have to kiss Raleigh arse when they tell us. You’re supposed to protect me from this kind of victimisation. I’ve got strong links to the elder council, you know. Give me a bloody telephone, I’m going to hang you bastards out to dry.’
‘Your family council agreed to my interviewing you,’ I said.
‘Then I’m taking this to the Roman Congress itself. I have rights! You can’t throw me in prison because you’ve failed to pin this on anyone else. Why didn’t you bring Carter here, eh? I’ll bet the Kenyons wouldn’t stand for being shoved around by the likes of you.’
‘Firstly, Carter is on the
‘Interview me? Mary, how dumb is this? I did not murder Justin. Which part of that don’t you understand? Because that’s all I’m saying.’
‘It’s not that simple any more, not these days.’
My FAI floated over to her, and expanded to display a sheet of text. She waved dismissively at it. ‘I don’t use them. What does it say?’
‘It’s a ruling from the Neuromedical Protocol Commission, clearing a new design of biononic for human application. This particular module takes direct sensory integration a stage further, by stimulating selected synapses to invoke a deep access response.’
‘We all stopped speaking Latin at the end of the First Era.’
‘All right, Christine, it’s really very simple. We can read your memories. I’m going to send you down to our laboratory, wire you up to a great big machine, and watch exactly what happened that night on a high-resolution, home-theatre-sized colour screen. And there’s not a thing you can do to stop me. Any further questions?’
‘Bloody hell! Why, Edward? What do you believe was our motive?’
‘I have no idea, although this procedure will enable me to trace it through associative location. All I’ve got left to go on now is opportunity. You and Carter had that.’
Her stubborn scowl vanished. She sat there completely blank-faced for a couple of seconds, then gave me a level smile. ‘If you believe it, then go right ahead.’
On a conscious level I kept telling myself she was bluffing, that it was one last brave gesture of defiance. Unfortunately, my subconscious was not so certain.
The family’s forensic department had come up in the world over the last century. No longer skulking in the basement of Hewish Manor, it now occupied half of the third floor. Laboratories were crypts of white-gloss surfaces, populated by AI pillars with transparent sensor domes on top. Technicians and robots moved around between the units, examining and discussing the results. The clinic room which we had been allocated had a single bed in the middle, with four black boxy cabinets around it.
Rebecca greeted us politely and ushered Christine to the bed. Strictly speaking, Rebecca was a clinical neurologist these days rather than a forensic doctor, but given how new the application was she’d agreed to run the procedure for me.
As with all biononic systems, there’s never anything to actually see. Rebecca adjusted a dispenser mechanism against the nape of Christine’s neck, and introduced the swarm of modules. The governing AI guided their trajectory through the brain tissue, controlling and regulating the intricate web they wove within her synaptic clefts. It took over an hour to interpret and format the information they were receiving, and map out the activation pathways within her cerebrum.
I watched the primary stages with a growing sense of trepidation. Justin’s murder was one of the oldest active legal files the Raleighs had. The weight of so many years was pressing down on this moment, seeking resolution. If we couldn’t solve this now, with all our fantastic technological abilities at my disposal, then I had failed him, one of our own.
