“I have allies,” she said cryptically.
“You would be as unwise to underestimate their power as you would mine.”
“But for all that power, there’s still something that scares you, isn’t there?”
“Nothing frightens me, Prefect Dreyfus.” She said his name with particular emphasis, making it clear that she knew of him.
“I don’t believe you. We know about the Clockmaker, Aurora. We know how it keeps you from sleeping at night. It’s a machine intelligence stronger and quicker than you, even with your allies to back you up. If it got out, it would rip you to shreds, wouldn’t it?”
“You overestimate its significance to me.”
“It can’t be that insignificant. If you hadn’t destroyed Ruskin-Sartorious, none of us would have been any the wiser that you were planning this takeover. You’d have achieved your goal in one fell swoop, taking the entire ten thousand at a stroke. But you were prepared to risk everything to remove the Clockmaker. That doesn’t sound insignificant to me.”
The analyst drew his attention to the compad again. The locus of habitats had now shrunk to eight hundred candidates.
“If you had control of the Clockmaker, you would have turned it against me already.” She leaned forward slightly, her voice hardening.
“In truth, you neither control nor understand it. Even if it was in your possession, you would fear to use it.”
“That would depend on how much you provoked us,” Aumonier said.
“There has been no provocation. I have merely begun the process of relieving you of the burden of care of one hundred million citizens. I care about them more than you do.”
“You murdered nearly a thousand people in Ruskin-Sartorious,” Dreyfus answered.
“You killed the prefects sent in to regain control of House Aubusson. That doesn’t sound like a very caring attitude to me.”
“Their deaths were necessary, to safeguard the rest.”
“And if it takes a million, or ten million? Would they be necessary deaths as well?”
“All that matters is that no one else need suffer. We have already discussed the inevitability of my success. If you resist me, people will die. People will die anyway, because people panic and do irrational things and I cannot be held accountable for that. But there is a way to bring this to an immediate conclusion, with the absolute minimum of fatalities. You have my takeover code: it’s the instruction set your agent so helpfully installed in the first four habitats. Make it universal. Broadcast it to the rest of the
ten thousand. I will have them all eventually; this way it will be with the least pain and bloodshed.”
“You’re out of your mind,” Aumonier said.
“Then I shall give you an incentive. I am convinced that many millions of lives will be saved by speedy transition to my rule. So convinced, in fact, that I am prepared to sacrifice a certain number of citizens to underline my point. You have six hours, Supreme Prefect. Then I shall begin humane euthanisation of one in ten of the citizens already under my care.” The child-woman eased back into her throne.
“You may stop the deaths at any time by broadcasting the code to the ten thousand. If you choose not to, the deaths will continue. But my weevils will still give me the ten thousand, whatever you do.”
“One hundred and thirty habitats,” the analyst whispered in Dreyfus’ ear.
“We’re zeroing in.”
“Before I sign off,” Aurora said, “let me assist you in one matter. Doubtless you are trying to localise the origin of this transmission. If you are employing your usual search methods, you will have narrowed the field down to between one hundred and one hundred and fifty habitats by the time I utter these words. Were I to stay on the line, you would locate my point of origin inside two minutes. I’ll spare you the trouble, shall I? You will localise me to Panoply. I’m sure it’s one of your candidates.”
Dreyfus looked at the analyst. The analyst nodded briefly, his face losing colour.
“I’m not really in Panoply. It’s a mirror bounce; very difficult to crack in the time I’m giving you.” Aurora smiled slightly.
“Just in case you were thinking of turning those missiles on yourselves.”
It had never exactly been day in House Aubusson—the dust-smeared window panels hadn’t let in enough light for that—but now even that half-daylight was sliding back into twilight, and another machine-stalked night would soon be upon them. Thalia supposed they had done well to last this long, but she could extract no comfort from the realisation. They had pushed their luck, that was all. They would not see another dawn unless they left Aubusson, and there was only one way that was going to happen.
She refrained from more detailed elaboration until Jules Caillebot had returned with the barricade squad. Paula Thory was almost incandescent with rage and incomprehension, and her mood was beginning to rub off on some of the others. But Thalia held her ground, standing with her arms folded in front of her. Nothing would be gained by showing even the slightest trace of doubt now. She had to appear in absolute command, utterly certain of success.
“We’re leaving,” she said as soon as Parnasse and Redon managed to quieten the party.
“Cyrus and I have already made the preparations. We either do this or wait for the servitors to arrive. No one’s going to rescue us in the meantime.”
“We can’t leave,” Thory said.
“We’re in a building, Prefect. Buildings don’t move.”
Without answering her, Thalia walked to the architectural model. It was now resting on the flat, damaged surface of the transparent casing that had once covered it. Between them, Meriel Redon and Thalia had removed most of the structures surrounding the stalk, corresponding to the actual demolition work that had taken place overnight.
Thalia reached into her pocket and removed the white ball that represented the sphere of the polling core, dusted it against her thigh and placed it gently atop the stalk.
“For the benefit of anyone who hasn’t been paying attention, this is us. Machines are trying to get at us through the stalk, and more than likely they’re climbing up the outside as well. So we have to leave. Here’s how it’s going to happen.”
She touched a finger against the side of the ball and toppled it from the stalk. It dropped to the side and rolled away across the denuded grounds of the Museum of Cybernetics until it ran off the edge of the model and fell to the floor.
“Oh. My. God,” Thory said.
“You’re insane. This isn’t going to happen.”
“That… doesn’t look survivable,” said Jules Caillebot.
“It’s not as bad as it looks,” Thalia said.
“For a start, we’re not going to just drop half a kilometre. We’re going to topple and roll. The sphere will travel down the side of the stalk, but it won’t ever hit the ground. The stalk widens near the base and then flares out until it’s almost horizontal. We’ll be moving fast, but there’s nothing to stop us rolling around the bend and continuing along a horizontal trajectory. It’s going to be bumpy, sure, but with the momentum we’ll have gained during the drop we should roll a long way, particularly as there isn’t much left out there to slow us down. We can thank the robots for that. If they’d left the surrounding stalks in place, we wouldn’t have a hope.”
“Girl’s right,” Parnasse said, standing next to Thalia with his arms folded and a look on his face that dared anyone to contradict him.
“Structurally, the sphere’ll hold. We can expect to roll two, three kilometres before we run out of momentum.”
“But surely we won’t be able to just roll off the stalk like that,” said the young man in the electric-blue suit.
“What do you want us to do? Run back and forth until we topple over?”
“We’ve taken care of the rolling part,” Thalia said.
“Cyrus and I have weakened the connections between the stalk and the sphere. It’ll hold for another hundred years as it is, but I’m going to give it a little nudge in the right direction with my whiphound. I’ll set it to grenade mode, on maximum yield. It’ll give us a pretty big bang. It should sever the remaining connections and push us in
