(84)
And at that, I knew they were going to kill him.
Another thing I knew, though, was that Marena’s earlobe-mounted phone, and the whole house’s phone and Internet systems, weren’t running off the increasingly sketchy post-Disney World Horror local towers. Instead, there was a pair of direct-uplink dishes on the roof. And they ran on the house’s electricity.
I toe-mushed my latex sandals off my feet and padded out, into the kitchen, and through a little pantry. It was Florida around here, so there wasn’t any basement, and the house’s gut brains were all in a little room behind a commercial water cooler. I’d already identified both the regular main circuit breaker and the big isolator switch that cut the line to a natural gas-powered backup generator that lurked in a shed in the backyard. Just to make a cleaner break, I cut the generator first and then the house main. There was a second of real dark and then a few battery-powered night-lights came on. Well offstage, Marena’s voice shouted something.
That ought to give him a few extra minutes, I thought. I’ll try some of his cold e-mail accounts later. My cold e-mail accounts. Our. I opened the kitchen door, jogged across the backyard-which wasn’t the yard with the pool and the pepper hedges and everything, but just a swath of centipede grass surrounded by dready yew bushes-and vaulted-well, vaulted sounds a little too graceful-over a steel fence post into the neighbors’ yard. I lost footing and rolled over. If they catch me, they’re going to ice me pretty fast after this, I thought. A few days of interrogation, tops. Still, I was less terrified than I would have expected I’d be. Maybe Tony’s brain-the less conscious part of it that was still there the way he’d left it-was less cowardly than the Jed mind it had appropriated. Or maybe it felt like I didn’t need to worry because I wasn’t really me. I got up again and ran around the neighbors’ big faux- Spanish-Colonial pile toward Oshkechabi Street. I’m doing great, I thought. Got to ditch the phone, though. And check again for implanted chips-oh, hell. I only got the vaguest impression of something behind me before there was something around me, crushing my chest, and as I realized that one of the guards had tackled me the grass tilted up and mashed me in the face.
Too late.
(85)
“Well,” I said, “if you’d let me meet with him, like I’d been begging to do, this wouldn’t have happened.”
“Or else it would have still happened,” Marena said. “Or something even worse.”
We were checking out Jed 1 ’s house, or rather aquarium. There were wads of Kleenex and drilled-and- smashed hard drives lying all over. What a fucking slob, I thought. Marena and I had come out onto the sort of porch because I couldn’t bear to watch Ana’s team tear up the place.
“Okay,” I said, “but-look, what was I supposed to think? It sounded like you were going to kill him, in fact I bet you were going to kill him, and I didn’t know why, so, so, so-”
“Okay, okay,” she said, “let’s not just keep going over and over this. We’ll find him, and you’re going to help us find him, and we won’t kill him, and everything’ll be fine.”
“Uh, yeah,” I said.
It was me, I thought again. I am such a fuckup. I’m evil, I’m vile, I’m evillive vileeliv, I’m No. No, it’s not me. That me is a different me. The me I am is not that person any more. Better. Anyway, don’t dwell on it. Fix it. Find him and neutralize him. And don’t get sentimental.
Someone I know of but whom I’ve never seen face-to-face, I thought. Idiot. Who else could it have been? Obviously mirrors don’t count. Idiota, tonto, pendejo -
Cancel, cancel. Not helpful.
Come on, work with Marena. Make sure she’s okay. Because she’s not okay right now, that’s for sure. She doesn’t realize how much trouble she’s in. Warren’s paranoid. I mean, both the individual and the company are paranoid. No matter how much I doth protest, they’re going to think I’m going to make the same decision as Jed 1. Especially after my little world-destroying misunderstanding the other day. They’ll keep me on a short leash, short like choking, and when I don’t have any more goodies for them, they’ll kill me. And Marena-I mean, they’ll do her, too, no matter how sophisticated she seems she’s still a little too trusting, she still thinks they’re her friends, she doesn’t realize they’ll do anybody, oh, Jesus we are so screwed Cancel that, my interlocutor self said again. Don’t sell yourself short like one of your corn contracts. You’ve still got a few arrows in your bow or strings to your quiver or whatever the hell it is. Go along with it, stay close to Marena, win her over to your way of thinking, put in protection for both of you… I mean, you know all this, Jed, Jed slash Tony, Jed-Sub-Three, whoever you are now, just do it.
I guess you’re right, I thought back.
“… how to stop it,” Marena was saying. “Right?”
“Sorry?”
“What?”
“Sorry, I tuned out,” I said.
“I said, Jed-Sub-One thought the Cascade wouldn’t be stoppable because you couldn’t figure out how to stop it. Right?”
“Well, yes,” I said, “if you mean that just doing random things and hoping one of them’ll work is too much of a shot in the dark. Presumably it’s a robust autocatalytic event chain with a variable n of-”
“Okayokayokay, hang on.”
“I tried to access his finances, but I couldn’t get much of it.”
“The thing is he didn’t know about the Human Game, right? So it may be figure-outable with that, I mean, it might identify a whateveryouguyscallit, there may be, you know.”
“A stopping mechanism.”
“Right. And with the LEON version of that, the, I guess we’re calling it the Human Game, that should do it, right?”
“I hope so. I mean, we hope-”
“So, so let’s just put everything into finding Jed-Sub-One, and then, we’ll get out of him what, you know, whatever’s going on, and then we’ll bring in LEON and work from there.”
“Get out of him, like, sweat him.”
“Right. Why, do you mind?”
“Oh, uh, no, no, definitely-”
“Hang on.” Ana and one of her tech people were calling for us to come back in. We did. They’d really torn up the place, but so far, it looked like they hadn’t disconnected any of the fish tanks. They’d pulled up the rubbery jigsaw matting and were prying the old half-ton Chubb safe out of the concrete. Needless to say, Jed 1 had reset the combination.
“Any erasing or explosive triggers on this?” Ana asked.
“Not that I know of. Unless I got even more paranoid after the Guate trip.”
“No radioactive materials or anthrax powder or whatever?”
“No, no, are you kidding? I wouldn’t-”
“Anything that’s going to erase the hard drive on opening?”
“No, I don’t think so. It’ll erase without the password, though.”
“Right. Any ideas on the password? Any favorite pet names, TV characters-”
“No, I don’t do it that way, it’s like with the safe combination, every Sunday when I do my Grandessa Game I just grab a new sixteen digits off a randomizer and reset it to that.”
“What’s a Grandessa Game?”
“Well, a Grandessa…” Hell, I thought. It felt violating, getting interrogated. But I’d screwed up. Pretty regally, in fact. You deserve it, Jed. Just co-fucking-operate. I started again. “A Grandessa’s just a word for a sort of pouch of like, seeds and stones that all Maya sun-adders have. And we use it to tell the suns, you know, like divination. So it’s kind of an abbreviated version of the Sacrifice Game. But I use it with a full Game board. And I do it at midnight on Sunday and that kind of maps out the next week.”
“Why on Sunday, aren’t you on a Mayan calendar or something?”
