“Might the Cortex be able to receive signals from an alternative source in order to operate properly, Dr. Bush?” Allen asked.
“Indeed, it could,” the old man said, smiling.
“Wirelessly?” I inquired.
“Perhaps … but the reference towers are not designed in such a way. They operate only on radio wavelengths in order to send a continuous signal that allows an Automatic to triangulate its position. A signal that could affect the Cortex would require a substantial amount of energy and would be much too weak to travel over long distances. Boosters would be required for the signals to be detected, as well as a specialized device to allow the reference towers to proliferate such a specific signal. We have been experimenting with a way to conduct wireless telecommunications using pylons connected to the underside of the Plate. As of recently, the pylons have been used for collecting wireless data from Automatics to alleviate the stress put on the Reference Towers. Unless someone has gone behind my back, nothing else has been done to those pylons or Towers.”
As I looked over the exploded diorama, the pieces started fitting together in my mind. It might be a long shot, but I had a solid theory. “Could the reference tower’s signal be modified to connect to those pylons? As from a singular point? Someone sends Automatic commands through the towers to the pylons, they go to specific locations which are then detected by Automatics attuned to that signal, and then the Automatics execute the commands?”
“Interesting theory, but as I said, it would require the pylons themselves — or at least the central Reference Towers on GE — to be attuned and modified to handle and transfer such signals. Furthermore, those Automatics in the graveyard — past 90th in the Lower City, you said — were much too far away for the pylons to have been within range.”
“Someone could’ve set up makeshift radio towers, or piggybacked off old ones,” Allen suggested. “There would be much less interference in that area, allowing them to connect to more than one or two Automatics at a time.”
The theory didn’t sound so crazy anymore. In fact, it sounded almost plausible.
“How old is this tech? Are these Cortexes standard in new models?” I asked.
“Almost all Automatic models have the same Cortex, just modified and updated — even the old Swinger models from after the War,” Vannevar replied.
So … it might have been him. Fuck. It, I meant. Some son of bitch could be using my friend’s dead corpse to torment me. But why?
First things first: time to confirm whether this theory we’d put together was real.
“I need access to the engineers who work on those towers, to see if they were modified. They should be inside GE, right?”
“Of course.” Vannevar put the pointer down and readjusted his glasses. “A floor below us, working on Automatic Support Projects. Do you think this was done by someone internally?”
“I think it was done by someone who knew who to talk to. Time to do some digging.”
Whatever the boys in the room labelled Tower Control were working on, they dropped it as soon as I kicked open their door. It wasn’t locked, but old habits die hard. At least thirty scientists stood up, complaining and murmuring to a man about what a nuisance I was. They weren’t like the engineers we had under the Plate; they wore pressed suits whose shoulders were reinforced with silver and copper. They had triangular and rhomboid shapes pressed into the fabric of their clothing, giving the impression that they were humans contorting into metal — or maybe the other way around. If they were all rich enough to afford such clothes, they were also rich enough to know what they had to lose.
Vannevar had stayed behind in his office, sending the secretary from earlier to accompany us “for insurance reasons.”
“All right, boys,” I said as I walked in, Allen right behind me. The secretary stayed outside. I flaunted the holster to one side of my waist and the badge to the other. “Let’s play a game. Who thinks they’re smart enough to talk themselves out of being a murder suspect?”
The question travelled around the room like the latest gossip. Such words were foreign on this side of the Plate. They fell silent as soon as I began speaking again. “Now, we have a theory: someone here has access to the reference towers on GE, and therefore has an idea of how they operate. They might have had the crazy idea of modifying them to connect them to the pylons on the Plate, to radio towers on the ground, or who knows what else. Regardless, doing so has led to many, many deaths. How many, I can’t tell you, but if I had to estimate, I’d say the number of corpses equals the population of this room, tripled. And that’s in the last month alone.”
Truth be told, I had no idea how many people had gotten corpsed in the past month, but they had no idea I was lying. The squares talked amongst themselves, and I kept
