Kendrick nodded, relieved by the change of subject. 'About the Arlington – I want to know who did the programming for their windows. I figured Todd might know, since he's in the same line of work.'
Malky shook his head in exasperation. 'Kendrick, did you ever think about just asking someone there?'
'I did ask someone, but they said they didn't know.'
'And, of course, I can safely assume you ran a Gridsearch as well.'
'I'm not an idiot, Malky. I checked out everything I could.'
'And, naturally, you're not going to tell me why you need to know this. I mean, why do you even care?'
Kendrick smiled apologetically. 'You'd think I was a lunatic if I told you.'
Malky spread his hands. 'Yeah, like I don't think that already. Well, let's go speak to Todd, then.'
From somewhere above them came a deep, growling vibration that sounded remarkably as though someone was using a pneumatic drill for unknown purposes. Kendrick had gradually grown used to the eccentric lifestyles and predilections of the refugees and artists who occupied the majority of the building's apartments. They were a reminder, Malky had once told him, of his own parents' bohemian roots.
A little further up the concrete stairs leading to the single enormous attic space that constituted Todd's home and working space they came across Lucia. She was standing beyond the open doorway of her studio, bare- breasted, her shaven head glistening. Kendrick couldn't help but note the industrial-sized pneumatic drill now discarded on the floor; Lucia was applying a blowtorch to the nose of an enormous construction of girders and concrete that took a moment to resolve into a two-headed T-Rex with a tractor in place of a ribcage. They continued on past her.
'Why is this so important, Kendrick?. What's the big deal?'
What to say? ' It's – hard to explain. But it's important. Very important.'
Malky spread out his arms. 'I'm a friend. It's not like I can't tell that something's going on.'
'Bear with me, okay?'
Malky shook his head. 'Fine, fine – whatever you say.'
It occurred to Kendrick that not even Malky knew exactly how many people lived here. However, a significant proportion appeared to be American refugees, most of them certainly illegal. He allowed Malky to lead him up yet another cramped stairway carpeted with moist-looking fabric. Finally Malky knocked loudly on the door at the top. After what felt like an appropriate interval they stepped through.
What little illumination there was in the room beyond seeped through patterned blinds drawn over tall windows. Kendrick remembered the first time he'd been there: Todd had taken care of all his ID needs, as well as providing him with a plethora of useful and completely false personal information. In Kendrick's augmented eyesight, the tattered furniture revealed itself in the gloom with an unnatural pearly ambience. Todd sat at the far end of the vast space, his eyes fixed on an eepsheet creased from being folded too many times. It was running one of the RaptureNet channels.
Unsurprisingly, given the apocalyptic tendencies of RaptureNet, a preacher kept thrusting his hands into the air and yelling in a tinny voice while a computer-generated image of the Archimedes floated in the background. Wherever I go I still can't get away from that damn thing, Kendrick thought to himself.
Todd was a small, mostly bald, middle-aged American with the frame of a famine victim and a soft, lilting West Coast accent. A workstation not unlike Caroline's occupied one wall, while a smaller version of her window- screen leaned against another wall, held in place with gaffer tape.
Todd glanced round at them, blinking and smiling. He nodded in recognition as Kendrick approached. 'Long time no see,' he said. 'In the flesh, at least. What brings you here?'
'I need you to find out who programmed something.' Kendrick described the hotel's door environment, while Malky listened with apparent interest.
'Looks like the Archimedes? Interesting.' Todd nodded towards the eepsheet he'd been watching as they'd entered. The preacher was now holding an old-style wand to his ear, in order, presumably, to better demonstrate the act of speaking to God. Another window opened on the eepsheet, showing an alternative view of the same preacher wearing flowing robes and a long white wig that crackled with computer-generated lightning. The berobed version looked down on his other self, zapping the wand with cartoon lightning.
Todd noted Kendrick's interest and nodded towards the images. 'You ever watch this stuff?'
'I'm… afraid not.'
Todd laughed nervously. 'Stop looking so worried. You know I get off on shit like this. It tickles me. And, you know, that's what helped sink Wilber. Economically speaking, building something the size and complexity of the Archimedes took up a serious chunk of the USA's annual GNP for a good few years. Can't maintain a wartime economy with shit like that going down, and that's why his own army eventually turned against him. Now, Wilber-'
'Todd,' Kendrick gently interrupted him, 'I know all this – remember?'
Todd blinked, then his face coloured. 'Sorry, forgot,' he muttered sheepishly.
Though Todd's nerdish enthusiasms often ran away with him, Kendrick warmed to him nonetheless. 'It's true that a lot of people still believe in Wilber's message, though,' he added, by way of a gentle prompt.
Todd nodded eagerly. 'Actually, this particular channel is pumped out of a portable studio in the back of a truck in Colombia. Real guerrilla-broadcasting kind of thing. But I've got to tell you, I think they just might have something.'
Kendrick tried to frame his response as diplomatically as possible. 'Wilber would use any lies that came to hand in order to gain power – and hold it.'
'Look, I'm serious,' Todd protested. 'I'm far from being the religious type, but for all Wilber's craziness about using the Archimedes as a testing ground for building some kind of techno-rapture gridlink to God, the people he had working on it were real scientists. A lot of the people who tune in to RaptureNet, they're old guys who worked in the science industries before the LA Nuke. And regardless of whether or not they actually are religious-minded in the old-fashioned sense, they go for that whole Tipler consciousness-at-the-end-of-time thing.'
'Look, Todd, I just need your help in finding out who did this thing.'
'And wouldn't I like to know why,' Todd chuckled. 'Okay, okay, just kidding. It's no problem – right, Mikhail?'
'Absolutely,' Malky replied.
'I mean, it's not like this is secret information, right?' Todd continued, his grin growing wider.
'You're asking because, say, you admire the skill of the artist involved?'
'I'm asking because I'd really like to know who did it.' Kendrick tried unsuccessfully to keep an edge out of his voice.
Todd nodded. 'How's Car doing?'
'You mean Caroline?'
Todd smiled. 'Listen, Ken, this one's for free. I can tell you for a fact that Caroline produced that display on commission.'
'Caroline?'
Todd wore a satisfied smirk. 'You sound surprised. It's the kind of thing she does, after all.'
It was indeed. 'I should have thought of that, Todd. Thank you. I owe you one.'
'No problem. So what's so special about some display based on the Archimedes, anyway?'
'To be honest, I'm not sure.'
'Now, that's not really an answer.'
'I know, I know, but it's the only one I'm giving you right now. Sorry.'
Todd nodded with a gentle smile. 'Got another question for you, then, just to make us even.'
'Sure.'
'What do you think is up there?' Todd asked. 'What's up there that prevents anyone getting back on board the Archimedes?'
Kendrick frowned. Todd was clearly just looking for more fuel to feed his endless obsession with conspiracy theories. 'Christ, Todd. There's nothing complicated about it. Nobody's dumb enough to try and get on board that thing while the place is swarming with runaway nanites.'