V. Moody's Blog, page 12

Book 3 – 29: The Mind Body Problem

Wormhole Island - Interior.

Figaro Ollo - Interior.

 

Figaro was inside his own body, but he wasn’t inside his own mind. That space had been hijacked for the moment. A moment that could last a lifetime.

Whereas previously Figaro had existed in a locked-off part of his brain while all voluntary and involuntary functions of his body were remanded into the custody of the Antecessor’s Fourth God, now he had been evicted completely.

He wasn’t sure what had happened but a change was occurring. Something to do with the fusing of his organic with another, he assumed. Figaro had thought he would be required to play some part in the process, but apparently not. He wasn’t even allowed to observe — at least, not from the upper deck.

He was still here, though. Able to exist as a thought, even though he was outside of his brain, because of the way the Fourth had separated him from his body. It wasn’t as simple as compartmentalisation. It was more like a clean break. No longer in any way connected to the brain stem. It was like he had been squeezed out.

And now he was a free-floating existence inside his body.

It wasn’t an existence he could explain. How did thought exist without a brain to produce it? How did thought move around as an independent phenomenon?

Figaro had read and studied enough philosophy to be aware of the arguments relating to the connection between mind and body. The physical and the ephemeral. It had long been argued that they were two entirely separate substances, not even sharing the same plane of being, and yet their effect on each other was undeniable.

Some claimed the consciousness was an eternal soul, able to exist beyond the body. But there was no evidence to support this. Other than what Figaro was currently experiencing.

But was he really a soul cut loose, or merely a pioneer of mindless thinking? His whole sense of self felt under siege. Who was he now? Who had he ever been? A son, a prodigy, a tool...

Whatever was happening to him, the result would produce major changes. Maybe even death, the most major of all changes. Figaro needed to be prepared.

He did have one port to aim for in this storm. His father had inserted one of the nanodrones into his body.

It wouldn’t necessarily change anything, but it would give Figaro a place to shelter his disembodied soul. If he could find it, of course.

Deaf and blind, he was able to move around his internal organs and blood vessels while somehow sensing where he was. It required him to focus and open himself to the environment and rely on familiarity.

He moved around his body, able to visualise his surroundings through a mixture of refining his senses into probable objects, and evidence-based imagineering.

His current goal, if that wasn’t too lofty a term for wandering around blindly while randomly poking at things, was to find the nanodrone. What he would do once he found it, he wasn’t entirely sure, but again, no point getting ahead of himself.

His father had introduced the nanodrone into his shoe. From there it could go anywhere, its burrowing nature allowing free entry into his suit and from there into his body. His father, though, was not one to leave things to chance. He would have programmed it to head to an area with access to all the important regions of his body, and also somewhere it would not be easily spotted.

In order to find it, all he had to do was think like his fathers. Also something he had been trained to do his whole life.

Figaro remained floating near, in his estimation, his liver. He pictured the nanodrone entering his foot and making its way up to his groin — not too far from where he was now.

Plenty of exit points, back and front. Lots of substances to hide in.

As Figaro considered how best to locate the nanodrone, there was a change in the area around him. He felt it as a tremor, at first. He didn’t shake but the sensory input he was absorbing began to lose cohesion. It stuttered and became more jarring. Something was happening to his body.

If the organic in his body underwent a transformation, it would obviously have a physical effect. Genetic manipulation could kill you, but not immediately. The cascade of changes would take a little time to become lethal. Was this the start of that?

His connection to his body (apart from his brain) seemed to have been strengthened. He couldn’t control it or make it move the way he wanted, but he could sense it in a very intimate way. Like a house he’d lived in a long time. And which was now falling apart.

There was no pain and no anxiety. He wasn’t scared and he didn’t feel an urge to get out. Where would he go?

No fight or flight response meant he wasn’t connected to the adrenalin escalation his body was no doubt undergoing.

Intellectually, he did think it would be wise to find some kind of shelter while the remodelling went on. He was well aware that if the fusing of organics failed, he would no longer have a place to stay. How long could he survive without a body?

Figaro used his unification with his body to scan for foreign objects. If he could recognise the familiar, he would be able to spot the unfamiliar. It only took a moment for his reverse-search to yield results.

The nanodrone was sitting on top of one of his kidneys. It had sunk into a layer of fat with only the top part of its carapace showing. If it sank any further, it would be almost impossible to detect.

Figaro headed towards it, struggling to keep himself from veering off course as his world crumbled around him.

As he reached the nanodrone, he slipped into it. The portal in was obvious and clearly designed for him. How had his father modified the device so quickly? Or had there always been this aspect to the little digging machine? He wouldn’t put it past his father to anticipate a need for it.

Once inside, Figaro felt a little safer. He was enclosed and protected on all sides. There was nothing he could but wait. He hunkered down and did his best to sense what was going on.

The training he had been given throughout his life had been very deep. Every part of his body was considered a tool that might come in useful someday. Not only was he taught how to fight, think, adapt, he was also taught how to reduce his needs to the absolute minimum.

He closed everything down and waited for a sign he could recognise.

His training had focused on global changes and also the tiniest movements. He could untie a rope with his feet, manipulating knots with his toes. He could also unknot a string with his tongue. The exact purpose of these skills was never specified, but it was assumed he would realise their worth when the time came. At the very least, it had made him very popular with the women in his life.

There had always been women in his life. His mother’s entourage had always been female, with many around the same age as him. He didn’t know if this was intentional or entirely unrelated to his presence. Most things in his mother’s orbit had nothing at all do to do with him, he was just one of many satellites, and far from the most important. Now that he had a sister, even less so.

Young, fit, athletic women of the Corps had been his closest companions growing up. He had found himself drawn to them, for obvious reasons. Many of them had returned his interest. For all their misandrist rhetoric, the majority of the Seneca Corps were heterosexual, with active sex drives.

Not many indulged in long-term relationships with men, but short, overnight ones were common.

Children were discouraged, but they were still needed. Many chose to have daughters, but not all were born with high CQs. They were reduced to menial jobs, if they chose to stay with the Corps.

Some, like his mother, left it to chance and had male offspring. It was rumoured there was a planet somewhere, populated by the unwanted sons of the Corps. But it was only a rumour.

He knew he was seen as a celebrity of sorts because of his parentage. The child of Armageddon. The son of the great Ramon Ollo. He was considered both an ideal male specimen and, at the same time, something taboo.

It made him a temptation to many. Sometimes they succumbed, sometimes the one doing the succumbing was him. Nothing ever came of his trysts. His mother was aware of them, of course. Perhaps she had even arranged some of them.

There was supposedly a whole clandestine branch of the Corps that trained women to control various important figures using sex. Another rumour. Perhaps.

Would his mother try to control him in that manner? If the organic in his body was truly as powerful as claimed, it might be worth having an extra control rod in the heart of the reactor. But his parents had always encouraged him to keep a degree of detachment from those around him, so his heart had never felt lost.

Both his parents attempted to influence his future. Both believed that adversity built strength. Figaro didn’t disagree. Nature more than proved the point — every chick that had to smash through a shell, every insect fighting its way out of a cocoon. His struggle was the same. He accepted it as just another complication of his life and tried not to dwell on it. He had always avoided trying to think too far ahead.

Marriage, children, his own destiny — those things seemed far out of reach.

But now, here he was, with only thought to sustain him. If he allowed himself to go blank, would he be able to recover?

It was hard to tell how much time passed until eventually things settled down. He couldn’t say for sure it was safe to emerge, but there was a feeling of stillness that made him think it was worth taking a risk to poke his head out, as it were.

Leaving the nanodrone, which had offered nothing apart from a sheltering spot, was a little harder than entering had been. Part of him seemed to be stuck to it even as the rest floated out.

With a little mental effort, he broke free and found himself back in his body.

A quick scan revealed nothing had changed, and yet everything felt a little different. Like coming home and finding someone had redecorated. It was unsettling. But his sense of self was the same. He had held onto what made him him. He didn’t need his body or his brain for that. He knew who he was, his issues and insecurities and the expectations he lived under remained the same. The pressures that had moulded him still pressed down on him, even when there was no one to apply them.

There was also an absence of the pressure he felt when the Fourth was operating his mind, so there was a good chance there was no one on the bridge.

Figaro pushed his consciousness upwards, aiming to re-enter his mind and examining the wreckage.

But as he floated up, like a diver heading for the surface, he found himself slowing until he came to a stop. Something was blocking his way back in. The locks had been changed.

“Impressive,” said a dark and sombre voice. “Your father was correct in his estimation of your resilience. You did not go insane and you did not dissipate.”

Figaro couldn’t see the Fourth, but he felt its presence like a damp fog seeping into him.

“What do you want?” Figaro asked. It seemed best to be direct.

“Nothing. It is only a matter of seeing if you survive now.”

“And if I do?”

“Then you will be a powerful entity that can play a role in what is to come.”

Figaro took a moment to consider what that meant. He was alive, or more accurately, he had been allowed to continue living. There had to be a reason.

“It worked? The fusion?”

“Yes,” said the Fourth. “As well as could be expected.”

“I thought a human body wouldn’t be able to cope with a double organic.”

“Not a fully fused pair.”

“Then this wasn’t a proper fusion?”

“No. It was a recombination.”

He was getting a lot of information so he pressed on. “Mine and… what was the other organic?”

“Your father’s.”

His organic, with the power to release energy at a phenomenal level, and his father’s, with the ability to suppress the power of other organics. Rather than increase his power, it would reduce and stabilise it, while suppressing the organics of others.

If that were true, then he could see how the two organics could work in unison while helping to diminish the stress on his fragile human structure. If it were true.

“And my father? Is he still alive?” Removing someone’s organic was also a first.

“Yes,” said the Fourth.

Figaro was surprised. “Can I see him?”

“Yes.”

“How? I don’t seem to be able to wake up.”

“You have to find your own way.”

Figaro strongly felt he was being manipulated and was merely a tool in the Fourth’s hands, but he still had some autonomy — perhaps that was necessary — so he planned to make the best of it. If the Fourth wanted him to struggle out of his cocoon, then so be it.

If there was a way to reintegrate his mind and body, then he would find it. Figaro set about reducing himself to pure thought and searched for his home.

It didn’t take long. Once there were only two points of light in the world — the world as he saw it — then it became a simple matter of drawing a line between the two. He didn’t have to move towards it, he just had to stop resisting the pull it naturally had on him. The time he had spent in the nanodrone seemed to have tempered his thoughts into a sharper, more condensed point. It penetrated more deeply.

He plopped back inside his mind and opened his eyes. It took a second to readjust to real visuals rather than imagined ones. He saw his father merged into the wall of the creation engine, eyes open but his skin pale and lifeless.

“Father?”

“Figaro.” There was a glint in Ramon Ollo’s eyes, but no other sign of life. His voice came from the wall surrounding him, lights rising and falling with the words. “I knew you would succeed.”

“I will find a way to get you out of there.”

“No. There is no way for me to survive outside of this place. It is enough for me to see you awaken. Now you must proceed with the rest of the plan.”

“What plan?”

“There is no time to explain. They have arrived. The Antecessors, they are landing now.”

Book 3 – 28: Three Times Two

Wormhole Island - Interior.

Bone Room.

 

Point-Two’s brain shuddered six times as the six points of light struck him. One after the other, they rushed towards him and then entered directly between his eyes.

He was aware that this was just his perception. What he was seeing wasn’t visual, it was mental. His eyes were closed and his conscious mind was attached to the bone. The bone he had approached without due care or caution, tempted by the idea of claiming a superior organic.

Who could he blame but himself? The answer was obviously Ubik.

This was the problem with hanging around Ubik too long. You started to think his ridiculous good fortune applied to others in his vicinity. The truth was that Ubik only had a rich abundance of luck because he stole everyone else’s share.

There was a slight pause before the pain hit. Six very painful blasts in the middle of his brain, like rapid fire from a hot-plasma rifle on full-auto. Not that he had ever been shot point-blank with hot-plasma, but it wasn’t hard to imagine it was similar.

The six lights hit him, his brain exploded six times in quick succession, and then he detached from himself.

That was what it felt like, a decoupling and then floating free. Perhaps this was what death felt like. It wasn’t too bad. The pain had stopped, at least.

He was alone with his thoughts. It wasn’t unbearable. He wondered how long it would last before the end came. He assumed the end would be nothingness. There could be something after death, but he had no particular hopes or aspirations about what it might be. Nothingness would be fine.

“Don’t move or try to move,” said a voice. It sounded vaguely familiar. “I’ve disassociated your mind from your body so the transformation won’t cause you as much discomfort.”

Point-Two condensed his free-floating thoughts into a point and looked around. He became aware of a figure. A person. A small, dishevelled person.

“Ubik?”

“No,” said the figure who looked very much like Ubik. “I decided to take this form to make you feel more comfortable.”

The parasite? That was the conclusion Point-Two came to. The alien parasite inside Ubik was talking to him in the guise of Ubik. To make him feel more comfortable.

“You think looking like that will give me peace of mind?” said Point-Two. “Isn’t there some tentacled demon monster from ancient times you could change into?”

Ubik II frowned like it didn’t understand what Point-Two was trying to say. “This is the recognisable and familiar appearance of your friend.”

“What are you doing here? Where is here?”

“This is your consciousness,” said Ubik II. “There is no need for alarm, you are perfectly safe and cannot be harmed or caused physical pain. You will stay here until the procedure is complete.”

“What procedure?” Point-Two had a rough idea what was going on but he wanted it explained to him, preferably in as much detail as possible.

“You agreed to have several organics placed inside your body.”

“I don’t think I agreed to several,” said Point-Two.

“I wouldn’t have agreed to even one if I had the kind of body you have, but your body, your choice.”

The parasite’s casual disapproval of the procedure it was performing didn’t fill Point-Two with confidence.

“What happened? In the bone room, what was that alarm?” The last thing he remembered before the lights hit him was the sound of an alarm, or something loud and reprimanding.

“The bone, as you call it, is a repository of great worth, so obviously it is carefully monitored and guarded. Your intrusive examination led to your presence being noticed. The Fourth God attempted to intervene. Luckily, Mr Ubik quickly swept your consciousness, along with the organics, into a safe place.”

The parasite was being very forthright and clear in its answers, which felt odd when it looked and sounded like Ubik.

“We triggered an alarm and it notified the Fourth? The prisoner being held here? Doesn’t that seem strange? Prisons don’t usually notify the prisoners if there’s a problem.”

“This is an unusual prison,” said Ubik II, in a very Ubik-like manner.

“No, I don’t think so,” said Point-Two. “I think you’re not telling me the whole truth.”

Ubik II tilted his head to one side. “Nothing I have said is untrue. It might not be accurate but the facts are the best I currently have access to.”

Point-Two would have frowned if he had a face. Ubik II looked very calm and sincere; another Ubik speciality. He wasn’t a figure standing in the dark. There was no dark. Ubik II was just there, like a thought or a memory.

“Those lights, they were organics?”

“Yes. Six organics.”

“You’re going to fuse six organics into my body?”

“I hadn’t planned to but now I am.”

“How many had you planned to do?”

“Two. Against my better judgment.”

“Is six possible?”

“I very much doubt it.” Ubik II didn’t seem concerned, smiling warmly. “But Mr Ubik had a fantastic idea that I, as an expert in the field, found to be quite plausible.”

“What fantastic idea?” Point-Two didn’t like the sound of Ubik coming up with something he considered fantastic. The fantastic nature of Ubik’s ideas was usually the main cause of any problems.

“By separating your consciousness from your body, the transformation can proceed without your presence, preventing the number one most likely outcome, insanity. Once the organics have fused, your mind can be returned to your body and you can begin the assimilation of your new abilities.”

It almost sounded reasonable.

“Can you give me a rough idea of how likely the fusion is to work? A percentage.”

“No,” said Ubik II. “I have never known the Antecessors to try something this foolish, so the data isn’t available for success rates.”

“But if you had to put a number to it…”

“Zero. But only if I had to. And because a negative percentage isn't a viable mathematical input.” Ubik II continued to sound enthusiastic.

“Then why did you put the damn things in me?” shouted Point-Two, although the volume of his words remained the same. Shouting without vocal cords didn’t appear to have much effect in here.

“I didn’t. Your good friend forced me to begin the process and didn’t seek my advice on the number of organics to use. I am not in a position to override his commands at the moment.”

Point-Two noted the use of ‘at the moment’ and assumed this meant there would be an attempted coup in the near future. At which point, he would have to decide whether to help or not, and which side.

Realistically, Point-Two knew he would die. That being said, there was benefit in making plans for that eventuality, so it would only be worth considering the slim chance that the organics would successfully fuse with him and each other. And if that happened, it would help if he had a rough idea of what to expect or how best to handle the power he would be in possession of. He probably wouldn’t have much time to practise.

“When will you start the fusion process?” asked Point-Two. He had willingly submitted to this — well, not to this exactly, but he hadn’t run screaming in the opposite direction as he now wished he had — so there was no point dwelling on it.

“It has already begun.”

“Oh,” said Point-Two. “I won’t feel anything?”

“Not now that your consciousness has been separated,” said Ubik II. “I don’t know what primitive methods your people have used in the past, but I’m sure they are less than optimal. I am specialised in this procedure. You may die, but you won’t be in pain when you do.”

It was sort of reassuring to know he wouldn’t die screaming in agony. He was starting to feel quite hopeful.

“If the six organics don’t kill me,” said Point-Two, “what sort of abilities will I have?”

“I don’t know,” said Ubik II. “As I said, six organics have never been combined inside one subject.”

“What’s the most in one person?” asked Point-Two.

“Four.”

“And what organics were used in that case?”

“Two extreme speed types — one muscle accelerator and one interspace fluidity piercer — one environmental inhibitor and one structural augment.”

Point-Two roughly followed what Ubik II had said. Two types of speed-up, one that allowed you to stay alive in extreme conditions like space or underwater, and one that made it hard for your body to fall apart.

“And what was the result of combining those four?”

“Massive spacial rift movement,” said Ubik II.

“What does that mean?”

Ubik II paused, looking up for a second. “Teleportation.”

Point-Two was impressed. There were organic-users who could move very fast between two points, but he had never heard of true teleportation.

“What sort of distance?” he asked.

“Unlimited. Between planets, between stars.”

Point-Two was astonished. Nothing like that had ever been achieved. If that was what four could do, what about six?

“That’s very impressive.”

“Yes,” said Ubik II. “It was a great success. If the subject had lived longer, there could have been even greater advancements made.”

“How long did it live?” asked Point-Two.

Ubik II looked up again, probably converting the duration into human measurements. “Six hours.”

A knot-tightened in Point-Two’s phantom stomach. If four organics under ideal circumstances only lasted six hours, how long could he hope to last? He didn’t bother to ask for an estimate.

“How’s it going, by the way?” said Point-Two. “Are you keeping an eye on things?”

“Of course. The first organic is almost fully integrated.”

That seemed very fast. “Which type was it?” When Point-Two had examined the six organics, he had identified them very vaguely as being hard, hair, water, distance, jelly and heat. That was what he had guessed from the symbols representing them, so he could have been completely wrong.

“Structural integrity,” said Ubik II.

“Hmm.” That would probably be the one he’d seen as ‘hard’. “Couldn’t you just do that one and leave the others until, um, later?”

Being very tough didn’t sound like a bad ability to have. Why get greedy?

Ubik II looked confused. “Leave five organics floating around your body unattached?” His tone already suggested this wasn’t a good idea. “How would you survive?”

“I wouldn’t survive?”

Ubik II slowly shook his head.

Point-Two had no idea what havoc organics left to roam inside a human body would cause. He knew Fig had a dormant organic, and it gave him numerous problems, but he wasn’t sure of the specifics.

“Is there a chance I’ll survive but be in an injured state?” Point-Two didn’t really want to know but felt like he had to ask.

“Yes,” said Ubik II plainly. “The most likely result would be brain death of some kind. A permanent vegetative state. I’m not sure it would change much for your quality of life. From what I’ve seen, human life is not that much advanced than that of vegetation.”

“You are a parasitic organism, you know.” Point-Two couldn’t help but feel a little offended. “It hardly makes you a higher life form.

“I am not a parasite. And judging from the change in my base functions, I would say I am the one who has been infected.”

Point-Two gave it a moment’s thought. The parasite did seem to be getting more and more like Ubik in its general demeanour and lack of social etiquette. Was Ubik the parasite and the alien organism his unfortunate host? The parasite certainly seemed the less enthusiastic of the two about the team-up.

Point-Two felt something move inside himself. He knew it wasn’t a genuine reaction to a physical stimulus, but his connection to his actual body might not be completely severed.

“Did something just happen? I felt a twinge…”

“Oh shit,” said Ubik II. “What the hell’s that worm doing?”

“Ubik?” Suddenly, the parasite didn’t seem like quite so much a copy.

There was panic in Ubik’s eyes. “I have to go check on… something. Wait here.” He disappeared.

“Is it the second organic?” Point-Two shouted (without volume) into the nothingness. “I think it’s fine to stop at one. I don’t mind.” There was no response. “Ubik!”

Point-Two waited, hoping there wouldn’t be bad news.

He felt a tug. And then he was inside another place.

Here it was dark but very, very painful.

With teeth clenched, Point-Two did his best to not lose his mind. It was the most intense pain he’d ever experienced. It was like his bones were liquefying. And he wasn’t being metaphorical. He was back in his body.

Then everything turned icy cold. It was still painful, but the lack of movement helped, like his bones were held in a full-body cast to stop them leaking out of his body.

But as the cold filled his body, it turned into a blazing fire.

It quickly permeated through his pores and deep into where his bones had been. He was a skeleton made of flames.

He could feel every cell in his body, each one screaming. Terror flowed manically into him.

There was an increase in pressure on his body and he began to be crushed. It provided some relief as it distracted him from the freezing cold and demonic heat. The pressure increased until he felt like every cell in his body was about to burst.

Point-two coughed up a mouthful of blood. He couldn’t open his eyes but he felt it pour down his chin.

If this was the effect of two organics in his body, he wasn’t looking forward to six.

Agonising heat surged once again. It was like magma coursing through his body, devouring his organs. He was sure he could smell flesh burning.

Something shoved him and he was ejected from his body.

The pain was gone but its after-impression remained, like closing your eyes after staring at a light.

Point-Two refocused his shattered consciousness and looked into Ubik’s face.

“If I could have killed myself, I would have.” He meant it.

“Yeah, but it should be fine now.”

“What do you mean, fine? I’m burning to death and freezing to death simultaneously.”

“No,” said Ubik. “Your body is like a furnace right now. It is the perfect environment for a fusion to take place.”

“I want you to stop. Right now.”

“I can’t do that. It would kill you. And anyway, if you’re going to take a massive gamble with your life on the line, you’ve gotta go all in, right?”

Point-Two knew he was right. It was too late to do anything other than follow through.

“Ubik, why did you pretend to be the parasite?”

Ubik shrugged. “Thought you’d be more comfortable talking to someone with prior experience.”

“And all the stuff you told me about fusing organics?”

“Oh, that’s all true. I got all that from the parasite. He’s actually quite happy to discuss his work. Point of pride for him.”

Point-Two finally felt himself calm down. Even though he was no longer suffering in his body, the shock had lingered for a while. Now there was no choice but to wait and see if Ubik really could make this work.

“What happened just now? Was it the Fourth?”

“Nothing happened,” said Ubik, a bit too casually.

“But the alarm…”

“That was nothing. The Fourth won’t try to stop us. This is what it wants us to do. That’s why it led us here.”

The Fourth wanted Point-Two to become the strongest organic-user. That didn’t make any sense. “Why?”

“Dunno,” said Ubik. “Gotta be something good, though. Maybe you’ll save the galaxy.”

“Wait,” said Point-Two. “If the Fourth wasn’t going to stop us, there was no reason to shove all six organics in me.”

“No reason?” said Ubik. “Where’s your sense of adventure?”

Six organics and near-certain death, all for a lark. Point-Two felt like he was ready to crumple into a heap on the floor. But he didn’t have access to a body (that wasn’t on fire) and he didn’t have a floor.

“How many organics so far?” he asked in a resigned voice.

“Two. But it’s looking good. Once your body reforms into a solid. Number threes the bottleneck, apparently. And then it should be plain-sailing.” Ubik smiled. “Then we just have to find a way out of here.”

“Out of here? What do you mean? Where are we?”

“We’re trapped in the bone,” said Ubik. “I mean, the Fourth doesn’t want to stop us, but it won’t want us running around with the most powerful organic ever created, will it?”

“Ubik, I’m not going to survive six organics.”

“Course you are.”

“But even the Antecessors never got six to work. They barely managed four, you said so yourself”

“That’s because they didn’t have our secret weapon,” said Ubik.

“What secret?” said Point-Two.

“Master Figaro,” said Ubik.

“Fig’s going to save us?” asked Point-Two.

“No, no, no. He’ll be too busy trying to save himself,” said Ubik dismissively. “No. But you remember the bracelet he wore, right?”

“The one you broke?” said Point-Two.

“Do you really think I would ‘break’ something like that?”

“Yes,” said Point-Two.

“Whatever. Anyway, that Dr Yune of his was quite a creative fellow. But with a tendency to be a bit too flashy. The important part of his organic suppressor was quite tiny and barely noticeable.”

“What did you do with it?” said Point-Two, not liking where this was going.

“If it can suppress Fig’s organic, then it can suppress yours. Not all six, but it can bring them down to a more manageable level. You see?”

Point-Two did see, and he still didn’t like where this was going. “Where did you put it?” He had no recollection of Ubik attaching any device to him.

“Don’t worry, I inserted it somewhere discreet.” Ubik winked at him.

Book 3 – 27: Supreme

Wormhole Island - Interior.

Door Room.

 

Figaro sat deep inside himself deciding what he was going to do.

He was currently in a meditative trance — a mind-state he had been trained to inhabit since he’d been a child — which enabled him to protect his consciousness in extreme situations where his body was at risk.

Such a state would allow him to remain alive even if he were to be thrown out of an airlock in space or trapped underwater.

But rather than cut himself off from his body to preserve himself, he was focused on consolidating a base from which he could oversee his inner-self.

His inner-self was not under his control at the moment. He couldn’t move his body, not even to look around or speak. But he was able to use his training to turtle the part of himself he did still control under layers of mental shielding.

This was all to prepare himself for what would probably be a very jarring experience.

The Fourth God of the Antecessors — a title that indicated the beings place in the Antecessor mythos as defined by humanity rather than its actual role — had convinced Figaro to allow himself to activate his organic.

The organic he had spent his whole life trying to suppress so that it wouldn't kill him along with everyone around him.

Not only was he going to activate it, but he would be upgrading it also. A power he could not control made even more powerful. A fusion of two organics to create something more in line with what the Antencessors had used organics for.

The Fourth seemed to be optimistic about the chances of success but there was no guarantee. Figaro didn’t think there was a better, less risky, option right now, but it wasn’t like there were many options to choose from.

He had been well and truly caught by the Fourth with no way to escape. The difference between their power-levels was more than apparent. The Fourth could have easily killed Figaro and made use of his body without him.

But it hadn’t.

It seemed to need him for something. Something related to the fusion of organics.

Figaro saw this as his best hope for regaining control of his body. Not a very big hope, but he was willing to take a chance. It was that or give up.

Figaro was also aware that this was probably all within the Fourth’s expectations. He didn’t dare think for even a moment that he would be able to outsmart it.

It wasn’t clear how he was meant to fuse organics — he had yet to integrate the organic he already had — but free will might be a component.

If the Fourth needed him to willingly accept the process, then it also gave Figaro a possible way to remain in control. The granter of permission usually retained authority in some regard. It all depended on what it was the Fourth intended to have him do.

He knew it was far more likely that once he had served his purpose, he would be shunted into some dark recess of his brain and forgotten about, or simply killed. He had already accepted this as his fate. Which made it much easier to entertain the idea of attempting the unfeasible and the ridiculous. It was quite a liberating way to think.

He wondered if this was Ubik’s perpetual mindset.

Figaro condensed his consciousness into a compact ball. Even if his body was destroyed, as long as his brain remained intact, he could be resuscitated. But in this case, he wasn’t attempting emergency stasis, he was trying to stabilise his mind to begin initiating his organic.

How he would do that, he didn’t know. Not yet. The Fourth had left him to get ready.

Normally, when in a deep meditative state, Figaro would be aware of the organic inside of him and do his best to avoid disturbing it.

It was like a slumbering beast, restrained and sedated by Dr Yune’s devices, but restless and unsettled.

This time, it was practically comatose. The Fourth’s methods were far more effective than the doctor’s. Figaro felt confident enough to approach it, mentally, and probe its structure.

Of course, the organic itself was a disparate and nebulous thing spread throughout his body, present within the DNA of each cell. But it manifested inside his psyche as a point of pressure; tightly-bound energy waiting to be released.

It was still there, still projecting the image of a volatile animal caged but waiting for an opportunity to attack. But it had been subdued fully, for now.

Figaro was able to sense its outline, its shape and dimensions, which he had never dared to do before. These weren’t things he could put into words, but it was a revelation to him to feel how much of him it took up.

Now that he examined it, there seemed to be something missing. An incompleteness, just as the Fourth had said. Would it really magnify in power if a second organic was somehow added? Would his body be able to withstand it?

As frightening as the idea of releasing this beast, Figaro had to admit he was curious to see what would happen.

There was a fluctuation in energy, as though somewhere there had been a power source that had been turned off and then back on again. A minuscule dip and then back to how it was. But even in that short period of time, Figaro had felt the organic stir.

It was suppressed for now, but if the power the Fourth was using to maintain that suppression was negated, there would be an eruption far worse than anything Figaro had encountered before. His thoughts turned to PT and Ubik. Mainly Ubik.

They were both still out there, causing problems. He had no definitive proof of that, just a very well-educated guess. Whether their efforts would help or hinder him was impossible to predict. All he could really do was prepare himself as well as possible and deal with the issues as they arose.

Figaro calmed his mind and fortified his base. The Fourth was able to take control of Figaro’s body at will. Figaro hadn’t even tried to challenge it. But he knew there would come a time when they would clash over ownership. Maybe the result of that fight was already a foregone conclusion, but he wanted to give himself the best chance of creating an upset.

There was no sign of the Fourth’s presence at the moment. Probably dealing with Ubik’s antics. There wasn’t much Figaro could do until it returned and began the process.

Figaro slowly let a strand of his mind float up to the surface of his consciousness to take a peek. No one blocked him or pushed him back.

His eyes flickered open and he saw his father, crouching by the wall, examining the designs carved into it.

“Father,” he said in a weak voice. It felt like he hadn’t used his own mouth in forever. His throat was dry and his tongue felt awkward in his mouth.

Ramon turned just enough to look up at his son and smiled. “Figaro, you have returned.” He said it like Figaro had just been out for a walk. “Are you prepared?”

Figaro was hovering above his father, suspended by some unknown force. He couldn’t move anything below his neck.

“I don’t know, Father. Do you know what the Fourth will require of me?”

“I can’t tell you exactly. Its methods are strange and… indiscriminate.” Ramon looked at the wall. “This creation engine, it is beautiful and impenetrable. It will help you transform but I can’t tell you how or into what. But I know you will become something astonishing. Someone to strike fear into the heart of the galaxy.”

Figaro’s eyebrows knitted together. There was real reverence in his father’s voice. He truly believed the Fourth would raise Figaro into some kind of ascendant being.

Figaro thought so too. It was what would happen after that that concerned Figaro.

“Where is the Fourth now?” Figaro asked.

“Dealing with your friends. It seems they are causing a nuisance.”

Figaro couldn’t help but feel a little relieved. Any delay to his fate was welcome.

“Will I really be able to fuse my organic with another?”

“It does seem so,” said his father. He looked tired and haggard. There was a dampening field on this place that affected the Fourth and also his father. Both had the ability to suppress organics — the Fourth’s vastly more powerful than Ramon’s — but the Fourth seemed less troubled by it, while Ramon seemed to get progressively weaker and worn down.

Whether there was some reason for this, Figaro didn’t know.

“I mean, will I be able to survive? Have you ever heard of someone who achieved mastery over two types of organics?”

“No,” said Ramon. “No one has ever tried, to the best of my knowledge. But neither have I ever come across someone with your unique gifts. If it is possible to survive, I have no doubt you will be the one to manage it.”

Figaro wasn’t convinced. Mastering any single attribute was a complicated and strenuous task for even those with the highest CQs. And that was with fairly weak organics expressed at a low level.

How would he be able to fully comprehend the mysteries of organic fusion with no guidance and no experience? He didn’t even have a vid to watch past attempts. It didn’t seem very realistic to expect success.

However, if he could fully master two organics, perhaps it would enable him to stand against the Fourth.

That didn’t seem very realistic either.

At best, he might be kept alive to act as a slave for the Fourth, using whatever powers he might attain in his master’s service.

Ramon Ollo moved slowly, like an old man. He seemed thinner than before.

“You don’t look well, Father.”

“I too am preparing my body.”

“For what?”

“The same as you. Survival.” He moved towards Figaro until he was standing in front of him, head tilted up. “Remember, even if all they want is your meat, there is far more to you than any of them know. Let them give you everything they hold dear, don’t fight them.”

“You want me to cooperate?”

“Yes,” said Ramon. “Up until the point you have received the power the Fourth wishes to grant you. And then…”

“Won’t it be too late to do anything by then?” said Figaro.

“Perhaps, but I don’t believe so. I have prepared you for all eventualities, even the most extreme ones. This exact scenario might not have been predicted by me, but the skills you have will help you still. I was always prescient when it came to you. Your mother didn’t want me to allow you to leave home to wander the galaxy, but I knew it was what you needed to do. And now look at you. On the cusp of greatness.”

He sounded confident but Figaro wasn’t sure where this confidence came from. Yes, he had been trained to cope with all sorts of extreme life-threatening conditions, but they were mostly to enable survival in the short-term.

The Fourth wasn’t someone who could be resisted for an instance and then escaped from.

“You will see,” said Ramon, as though he was able to read Figaro’s thoughts. He reached out his hand and opened it.

Figaro looked down and his gaze instantly fixed on the single black speck barely visible on his father’s palm. It was a nanodrone. “This is where you can hide. They will think you have gone, but you will be able to reclaim everything.”

He raised his hand until he could just about reach Figaro’s boot. The speck was no longer in his hand.

“Stay hidden until you enhance your power and have the capability to control it.”

Before Figaro could say anything, he sensed the Fourth’s return. He sank down into himself immediately and was soon pushed down harder as his body was claimed by a superior power. He withdrew into his hard shell and dropped deeper and deeper, making himself a mere speck.

 

***

 

Figaro’s eyes opened again, but this time Ramon knew the intelligence behind them was not his son’s. It wasn’t human.

“You gave him the insect?”

“It is done, Master,” said Ramon with respect.

“Good,” said the Fourth. “Your acumen is truly impressive. Your progeny will bring you great pride when he fights for us in the coming war.”

“Yes, Master. Are the others in position?”

“Of course. The sigil will soon be activated and the bone is being plundered as we speak. The only thing left is for you to give up your organic.”

“I am ready, Master.” Ramon looked pale and sweaty. He knew what was to come would not be pleasant, but he was resigned to his fate, for the sake of his son. “You may begin the extraction when you wish.”

“Good. Very good. Your sacrifice will not go unrewarded.”

“Please take care of him in the future, if he survives the process.”

“You need not worry. Two organics is well within his potential,” said the Fourth.

A glint shone in Ramon’s eyes. “Could he perhaps take more than two?”

“Hmmph. Do not be foolish. His potential may be great for one of your kind, but more than two would burst him open at the seams.”

Ramon could tell the Fourth spoke the truth. He was simply being greedy on behalf of his son. Two organics would already make him more powerful than any organic-user that had ever existed. If he survived the process.

The creation machine began to flicker with light. Ramon braced himself for the pain, but even he was not prepared for the intensity of it when it struck. But endless, unbearable pain was a small price to pay to help his son reach the peak of human potential.

Book 3 – 26: Offerings

Wormhole Island - Interior.

Bone Room.

 

Point-Two was familiar with Ubik’s brilliant ideas. They were brilliant, yes, very often. Startlingly so, sometimes. But, they also came with a pretty high chance of getting everyone killed. Everyone except Ubik.

So far he had been lucky. He hadn’t died. To be more accurate, he had survived being around Ubik. And surviving was good, but it wasn’t really living.

“No,” said Point-Two. “I’m not interested in being your lab subject.”

“You don’t even know what I’m going to say,” said Ubik.

“That’s right,” said Point-Two. “I don’t know a lot of things. Because you refuse to tell me. What I do know is that you have an alien parasite inside you that may be influencing you. There’s also that bone over there, which seems to be emitting a weird energy and is probably a bomb.”

Ubik shook his head. “No. It’s not a bomb.”

“Could it explode under the right circumstances?” asked Point-Two.

“Well…” Ubik waggled his head. “Technically, I suppose it is an intensely packed power source that could — I emphasise could — be engineered to become unstable and cause some sort of high-yield, high-impact energy release. But be serious, alien artefact detonation is an extremely esoteric field. The number of people capable of doing something like that is extremely small.”

“Could you do it?” asked Point-Two.

“If I had to, yeah. I could probably whip something up.” Ubik looked at the bone with narrowed eyes. “Take me a couple of hours. But I wouldn’t. Not unless it was by accident.”

“Great,” said Point-Two. “Much more reassuring.”

“I think you’re being a bit paranoid, PT.”

Point-Two had no intention of denying it. “I find, if I treat explosive materials like they’re likely to explode at any moment, it gives me the kind of head-start I need to stay survive, at least in the short term.”

“More than a bit paranoid,” said Ubik. “Mind you, you are still alive, so I guess it’s working for you. Let me tell you what I want you to do.”

“I said no,” Point-Two restated, this time with extra emphasis.

“I’ll answer any questions, full disclosure. Go on.” He turned the top half of his body to look at the two Seneca mercenaries to let them know they would also have the opportunity to question him. “Anything you like — I’m wide open.”

“Okay,” said Leyla. “What—”

“Don’t,” said Point-Two. “It’s a trap. If he wants you to ask, it’s already too late.”

Point-Two knew he was being excessively paranoid. But, as Ubik had said, he was still alive so it must be working. Excessively paranoid was his baseline.

“You want to get out of this place, don’t you?” asked Ubik.

Point-Two took a step back. The new and improved, wide-open Ubik was not someone to take lightly.

“I’ve already been a volunteer for one of your brilliant ideas,” said Point-Two. “I think I should let someone else have a go.”

“But only you can save us,” said Ubik. “You’re the only one who’s primed and ready to go. The ladies already have organics fitted and I, sadly, cannot partake in the wonders of augmented bio-engineering.”

“Did he just call us ladies,” said Weyla.

“What’s he talking about?” said Leyla. “He wants to put an organic in you?”

“Yes!” said Ubik. “Let’s get rid of the middleman. Direct organic implantation.”

“You want to put an organic in me?” Point-Two hadn’t liked the plan before he knew what it was. Now he liked it even less.

“Not me. How would I do that? But I have an acquaintance who—”

“The parasite?” said Point-Two. “You want to use your alien parasite to put a random organic inside me?”

“I wouldn’t say ‘random’. A more accurate word would be ‘several’.”

Point-Two had to stop and stare at the floor to work out what Ubik had just said. Not looking at the little shit’s face helped calm him down. Several?

“You want to put more than one organic in me? Is that possible?”

“Of course it is. Theoretically.”

“Why?” asked Point-Two.

“What do you mean,” said Ubik.

“Why do you want to put several organics in me? How will it help us get off this ship?”

Ubik looked like he was about to say something but then stopped. His mouth tightened into a puckered pout.

“Well… it wouldn’t necessarily get us off the ship, but it’s never been tried before.”

Point-Two nodded. “So you’re just taking a punt for the sake of it.” He continued nodding. “That’s what I thought.”

“So you’ll do it?”

“No.”

Ubik turned the top half of his body towards the two ladies.

“No,” they both stated categorically.

“I feel like none of you are really appreciating the possibilities here,” said Ubik. “This could make you the most powerful person in the galaxy. Like, a whole order of magnitude more powerful.”

“Or it could make me dead,” said Point-Two.

Ubik let out an extended breath and looked around the darkened chamber, possibly for any potential volunteers he might have missed. “So paranoid…” he muttered to himself.

The atmosphere was a little tense. Even though not assisting Ubik in his mad scientist experimentation was clearly the right thing to do, they still had to do something.

If the VendX and Seneca people were free of their simulations, then they would be following the Fourth’s instructions and heading towards the sigil. Whatever the Fourth’s reasons for wanting them to do that, Point-Two was sure it wasn’t what they’d been told. Something else was going on here.

“Let me talk to it,” said Point-Two.

“Talk to what?” said Ubik.

“The parasite.”

Ubik looked momentarily confused. “What do you mean?”

“She said it took over your body in there. It could talk. I want to talk to it.”

Ubik smiled and turned his head slightly to look at Point-Two with just one eye. “You want me to let it take over my mind and body so you can have a chat? Do you really think that’s a good idea?”

Point-Two smiled back. “Well, it’s never been tried before.”

“Okay,” said Ubik. “You want to hear it direct from the source. I can respect that. Just hold on a minute.”

Ubik closed his eyes, straightened his arms by his side and shook his hands. He rolled his shoulders and clicked his neck with a sharp tilt of his head.

“What is he doing?” asked Weyla.

“I’m not sure,” said Point-Two. “Standing backflip?”

“Can he do one of th—” Weyla stopped mid-sentence as Ubik’s eyes snapped open.

“Hello, it’s me, alien worm.”

“No, it isn’t,” said Weyla.

“Mistress, so lovely to see you again. Perhaps later we can spend some time alone for a massage.”

Weyla crossed her arms. “I know it’s you, Ubik.”

“I am one with the mighty Ubik. We are joined in mind and body. This is how you like us to talk, isn’t it?”

“You won’t be doing any talking once I crush your jaw.” Weyla uncrossed her arms.

“What the hell is that supposed to be, Ubik?” said Point-Two, gently pushing Weyla back towards her sister.

“I am the last survivor of a mighty alien race.”

“No, you aren’t,” said Point-Two.

“I am one of the last survivors—”

“Ubik!”

“Wait, wait. That was just a test run. This time I’ll bring him out for real. Hold on.” Ubik went into his preparations again. He raised his head. “Greetings, humans!”

“Ubik, stop messing around,” said Point-Two. “I can tell it’s still you.”

“Can you? How?”

“Because it sounds like you.”

“So does the parasite,” insisted Ubik.

“Not really,” said Weyla “I mean, it does a bit, but he’s not as…” She seemed to be reaching for the right word.

“Let me stop you right there,” said Ubik, apparently not keen on hearing Weyla’s assessment of how the parasite was a better version of the original. “I can’t just bring it out like a puppet show. It doesn’t work like that.”

“It worked in the simulation,” said Point-Two.

“Yes, but that’s a mental projection. You can talk to it once we get the procedure started.”

“No,” said Point-Two.

“Come on,” said Ubik. “This is it, your big chance. Wasn’t the whole point of you leaving home and joining the guild so you could get an organic? Do you know how unlikely it is you’ll ever be given a really good one? I’m offering you the chance to choose your own organic from a range of amazing options, not the basic rubbish they give out to people like them.” He pointed at the two sisters.

“Are you calling us basic?” said Leyla, clearly taking offence.

“Oh, you’re a bit strong and she’s a bit fast,” said Ubik. “My mistake, you’re both clearly on the cutting edge.” He turned back to Point-Two. “If this works and you get fitted up with a couple of real beauties — you’ll be god tier. This is what the parasite was made to do. It’ll be a lot safer than any medical procedure performed by amateurs. And then you can saunter off back to the Lifeboat Gumball and make yourself the next rear admiral, or whatever it is you sailor boys get up to. Isn’t that your goal?”

It might have been an act, an elaborate sales pitch, but Point-Two had to admit Ubik wasn’t far off the truth. The only reason he had left was to find a way to obtain a powerful organic. He’d known it was a longshot from the start. The guild might find him a low to medium-grade organic if he performed well, but even then it would take several years. But here he was with the ideal chance to get his prize, and the only thing he had to risk was his life.

“I’m not taking more than one,” said Point-Two.

“Fine, take the safe option. Just hurry up. The other Antecessors are on the way and the Fourth isn’t going to let us do as we please. It’s just keeping us trapped here until the Ants arrive. Then it’ll hand us over for its freedom or whatever.”

“Then why did it want us to turn off the sigil?” asked Leyla.

Ubik shrugged. “Keep us busy. Needs us alive for some reason.”

“Then why didn’t it lock us up?” asked Weyla.

“Probably didn’t want us killing each other.”

“But letting us run around like this,” said Point-Two. “There must have been a better way to keep… Oh, the simulations.”

“Exactly,” said Ubik. “Keep us quiet and out of the way until the rest of them show up. Luckily, the whole place is falling apart. Memory leaks make it hard to sustain the system for any length of time, so it’s been improvising. Not something we have to worry about, though. We’ve found the treasure chest, we’ve got the key, and the perfect receptacle to carry it off in.” He grinned at Point-Two.

Point-Two knew on some level that he was making a mistake. There was an excellent chance this would go sideways and he’d wind up dead or braindead or, even worse, some kind of mutated monster. But the chance to get a top-grade organic, installed by an actual Antecessor (or at least the tool used by the Antecessors) was too tempting to pass up.

“We have to go in there?” Point-Two pointed at the bone in the other room.

“Yep,” said Ubik. “Don’t worry, this won’t hurt a bit.”

“How do you know?”

“It’s just a phrase, you’re not supposed to take it literally.”

The trees either side of the entrance flashed on and off, catching them all by surprise. It was only a flicker but everyone turned to look.

“Did anyone else see that?” Ubik pointed at the two trees.

“What does it mean?” asked Leyla.

“The Fourth is on the move,” said Ubik, his voice low and ominous. “If we’re doing this, we’ve got to do it now.” He looked at Point-Two.

Point-Two gritted his teeth, buried his misgivings, and nodded.

“Are you sure?” said Weyla. “It could end very badly. I don’t think he knows what he’s doing. I don’t think either of them do.”

“The Seneca Corps showing concern for a man,” said Ubik. “Speaking of things that have never been tried before.”

“No, it’s fine,” said Point-Two. “Let’s do it.”

He headed for the bone, marching through the doorway. It was horrible and uncomfortable, but once he was through the entrance, the pressure eased a little.

The others followed. When he reached the bone, he didn’t know what to do. There was a buzzing sound in his ear and his face felt hot. The bone was so large he could have crawled into it if there had been a door. He definitely didn’t want to be trapped inside a giant bone.

“What now?”

Ubik stepped up to stand next to him. He put out his hands and pressed the palms against the bone. His hands sank into it.

“Oh,” said Ubik, sounding surprised. “Just as I expected. You do the same.”

It was too late to back out now. It wasn’t really, but Point-Two told himself it was. He copied Ubik. His own hands disappeared through the bone’s surface. Everything went black in his mind, even though his eyes were still open.

“Right, that’s it,” said Ubik. Only, the voice was inside Point-Two’s head.

“Can you hear me?” he thought back.

“Yes. We have a mental connection,” said Ubik. “In some ways we always have.”

“No, we haven’t,” said Point-Two.

“This is a bad idea,” said a third voice.

“Is that the parasite?”

“I am not a parasite.”

“Yes,” said Ubik. “Show us what organics are in here.”

“I refuse.”

“You didn’t mention that you hadn’t got the parasite to agree to this,” said Point-Two.

“Do as I tell you or I’ll put you back in the girl’s head and you can be her plaything for eternity,” said Ubik.

There was a long pause and then a multitude of small lights appeared in front of Point-Two, far too many to count.

“What are these supposed to be?” he said.

“These are the three thousand organics stored in this bone,” said the parasite.

It was shocking to think how much money he was looking at right now.

“How am I supposed to tell them apart?” said Point-Two.

“Show them as images that represent what effect they have,” said Ubik.

The dots of light changed into symbols. Point-Two was able to recognise them as indicators for speed and strength, elemental powers like lightning, mental abilities, powers that affected space and time. But their exact function wasn’t clear. And there were just so many of them.

“Which of these are most compatible with him?” said Ubik.

“None of them,” said the parasite.

“Okay, which are least incompatible with him?” said Ubik.

The lights rapidly disappeared until only six were left.

“Well, that narrows it down,” said Ubik.

Point-Two looked them over. Hard, hair, water, distance, jelly, heat. He could only guess what they actually did. Which one to pick? He reached out with his mind to try and understand better with a very gentle inspection.

Everything shook and there was a blaring sound all around that made Point-Two jump.

“What’s that?” said Point-Two.

“Sounds like an alarm,” said Ubik. “Who puts an alarm in a bone?”

“The trees are lighting up,” called out Leyla. “Really bright.”

“What does that mean?” said Point-Two, still in the dark with the six points of light. “Is the Fourth going to come here?”

“Yep,” said Ubik. “Gotta move, let’s go. Put the organic in him.”

“Which one?” said the parasite.

“All of them.”

“Wait,” said Point-Two.

The six points of light entered him.

Book 3 – 25: Bone Deep

Wormhole Island - Interior.

Bone Room.

 

There was an open doorway directly in front. Ubik let go of Weyla, who he had his arms around, and stood up. She let out a sigh or a moan or possibly an angry shout of “Get off me, you pervert” — it all sounded the same. He wasn’t really interested, his attention was taken up by the large object he could see through the opening.

A bone. An enormous bone like it was from some sort of primaeval beast, the kind that got dug up occasionally and the planet’s evolutionary history would get rewritten for the umpteenth time. Not that anything would really change other than the local museum getting a new exhibit. Stuff from that far back never made much of a difference.

But this bone was weird. It was jet black for a start. Bones tended to be white. Not here. Here the trees were white and the bones were black. And the lights were off, but he had no trouble seeing the bone. It was glowing. But not in the usual way.

Ubik felt the aura pouring out of the huge black bone like it was heat radiating off an active becquart block, like the ones he would sometimes find still hooked up to one of those small rotor-ships dumped in the junkyard, leaking protnickel oil and highly radioactive. Only, he didn’t feel the heat on his skin, he felt it in his mind.

“Did you do that?” said PT’s voice. “It just opened a minute ago, when the lights went out.”

“Hmm,” said Ubik, neither confirming or denying.

“What happened to all the trees?” asked Leyla. “Why did they explode like that?”

The two trees on either side of the opening were dull and lifeless.

“He broke them,” said Weyla.

“Just here, or all over the ship?” asked PT, not bothering to ask how or why. “Because if it’s all of them, that means everyone who was caught in a simulation is now free to run around the ship.”

You had to hand it to PT, he knew how to spot a potential problem way off in the distance. Way, way off.

“I don’t know. What’s with the bone?” said Weyla, standing up so she blocked Ubik’s view.

“Hmm,” said Ubik. He walked around her and moved closer. The only lighting was from Weyla and Leyla’s suits, but Ubik didn’t need it.

“Don’t just walk up to it,” said PT. “Don’t you feel that?” He stuck out his hand like he was trying to ward something off, but kept moving it around to find the right place to block it.

“It’s in your head,” said Ubik without looking at them.

“You’re saying I’m imagining it?” said PT.

“No, I’m saying it’s in your head,” repeated Ubik. This bone was special. It held secrets. He could feel it in his own bones, down in the marrow. You could learn a lot from what your bones told you, as Grandma always said.

“I feel it too,” said Leyla behind him. “From the bone. Everything feels different.”

“Your organic, does it feel more powerful?” asked Weyla.

“Yes. I don’t know. I’m not sure,” said Leyla.

“Kind of itchy?” asked Weyla.

“Yeah, exactly.”

The two sisters began comparing notes, both sensing something had changed since Ubik and Weyla had emerged from the simulation.

“Everything tighter?”

“Yes, tightened up,” said Leyla. “Like I’m bursting with it. My organic, maybe I should…”

“Hold on,” said PT, the worrier as always, “don’t max out your powers. If you push too hard, your body might not be able to handle it. Ubik?”

“Yeah, yeah,” said Ubik distractedly. “Might pop a vein or something.” He was slowly moving closer to the open doorway, one step at a time, eyes squinting.

“A vein?” said Leyla. “That wouldn’t be too—”

“Or your head might explode,” said Ubik, still focused on the giant bone in the other room. It wasn’t glowing, not really, but it had that sort of weird vibe to it, like it was feeding off a vast store of energy. It was almost magical. Of course, Ubik didn’t think in those terms. But the way it was floating in the air was kind of odd. Not anti-grav, not magnets, but then what?

“Ubik,” said PT, a little more insistent, a lot more impatient, “where are you going?”

“I’m just going to check on the, uh, bone.” He pointed ahead of him, although he couldn’t possibly mean any other bone.

“Aren’t you going to tell us what happened in the simulation?” PT always wanted to know every detail, always keen to avoid a possible disaster by collecting information. It was such a plodding, old-fashioned approach, it was a wonder the guy didn’t die of boredom with his pathological need for preparation and caution.

Over there, Ubik could feel the source of the aura waiting for him. In the middle of a large empty room, there was a mysterious bone, bigger than his whole body, floating there while its mysterious aura glowed; but only in his head. Who had time for considering the consequences when you had giant floating bones to inspect?

There were layers of energy around the black bone. Ubik knew what it was. It was the source of the Antecessor’s power. He didn’t know how he knew that, but he had no doubts. It was pure power without impurities. Something new.

“Ubik?” prompted PT.

“Just ask Weyla.” Ubik had his eyes fixed on that black bone. “She knows all the details.”

“Weyla?” prompted PT in a new direction. “What happened?”

“Uh, mm, well…”

“What is it?” said Leyla. “Why are you looking like that? Are you blushing? What the hell happened?”

“Nothing,” said Weyla. “Nothing happened.”

“Did he do something to you?” Leyla sounded both concerned and suspicious. “You can tell me, I’m your sister.”

“If you’re my sister, you should know I can take care of myself.” Weyla’s response didn’t sound too pleased with her sibling. “What could he do to me?”

“What about the parasite?” said PT, joining in the interrogation. Ubik crept closer.

“What do you mean?” said Weyla.

“Was it in there with you?” asked PT, becoming more insistent. “It talks to him. Did it influence him in any way?”

“No. He was like he always is. Annoying. The parasite…” Weyla’s voice drifted off.

“What?” said Leyla. “Did the parasite do something to you? Did it touch you?”

“No!” snapped Weyla. “It didn’t do anything. It was a lot nicer than him.”

There was a long pause. Looks were probably being exchanged. Ubik’s focus was on the bone. Whatever they were bickering about, it didn’t really matter. This bone, this was what mattered.

“Such enormous power after so long,” said a voice in Ubik’s head. “Is it not awe-inspiring?”

“Hmm?” said Ubik. He was at the door now. The waves of energy washed over him; through him. “You know what this bone is from?”

“Of course. It’s a finger from the left hand.”

It was hard to tell if he was being mocked or if the parasite was just naturally very obtuse. It wasn’t really well-versed in conversation until quite recently, after all.

“I mean what creature it’s from,” Ubik clarified.

“It’s hard to say. After the fall of the first era, the gods began to experiment with their own creations. Many hybrids were bred — abominations, really. They varied in size and ability. And longevity. Death was—”

“Did they create humans?” asked Ubik.

“Humans? You mean your kind? No. You are too—”

“Forget it then.”

There was a pause. “You don’t wish to know about the origin of this bone unless it directly involves you?”

Where had it learned to be so judgemental? Not from him.

“I don’t have time for long-winded life stories about the dead and ancient. Interesting as I’m sure you would make it. Did you even exist back then?”

“I was part of the creation process.”

“But were you conscious? Were you able to think? Weren’t you just a tool, a way to combine organics with organic beings?”

“What has that got to do with any—”

“I’m just saying, you only just learned how to talk, and most of your thinking patterns are based on me, right?” No response. “I can pretty much guess where you’re going after a couple of words. No point stretching things out, is there?” More silence.

Ubik stepped through the door. The pressure inside his mind was quite fierce. It was like he was trying to get closer to a furnace on full blast. He couldn’t get any closer physically, not without hurting himself.

With a tinge of expectation, Ubik closed his eyes and pushed back with his mind, reaching out to the bone. He felt a resonance between them. A coming together.

“You shouldn’t do that,” said the parasite.

“Be quiet for a minute, I’m at a delicate bit.”

There was definitely something here. Something inside the bone, deep in its core. It was packed tight and very powerful.

Ubik felt himself slip inside it. A few seconds later, he retreated.

“Oh. It’s deteriorating.”

“Yes,” said the parasite. “It is very old.”

“But there’s no intelligence. No programming. Just raw power fading slowly.” Ubik was disappointed. He had hoped to find some kind of ancient computer to plunder.

But this was just a beacon emitting waves of unidentifiable energy. There was no indication of how it operated or what effect it had. He guessed this was the source of the tronic jamming signal, but he had no idea how it was doing it.

And if he was right, why did the Fourth send everyone to the sigil? Wouldn’t coming here to destroy this thing be the way for it to gain its freedom?

“So,” said Ubik. “The Fourth, your god, it doesn’t want us to stop this bone from blocking all the tronics on this ship?”

“What tronics? This ship doesn’t work like that.”

“Right, right,” said Ubik. “Because it’s not like the other Antecessors.”

“That’s correct. It was the one who watched over the others.”

“You mean it kept them in line, like an enforcer.”

“Yes, I suppose you could say that,” said the parasite.

“But they locked it up and left it here.”

“Yes.”

“With this bone. As a… reminder?”

“I’m not sure what you mean,” said the parasite. “This is a valuable treasure. A repository of many organics.”

“Inside the bone?” said Ubik. He moved his focus back to the bone. It didn’t seem like an organic-rich item. He looked more closely. “Oh, I see. It’s the blueprints that are here. You’d need a way to convert it back to… is that what you do?”

“It is something I was designed to do, yes.”

“You could take it out of the bone and put it inside someone?”

“You are not compatible. None of your kind are. The organics you have claimed so far have all been wasted. You are able to express a fraction of their power and with only one.” The parasite sounded disgusted. Apparently, humanity’s use of organics to improve themselves had been an egregious misuse of a precious resource. Treasure that had been squandered by the undeserving.

“So, what you’re saying is that you won’t put any organic inside a human, even though that’s what you were made to do?”

“I wasn’t made to do any such thing.”

“But you could do it if you wanted to.”

“There would be no reason to do so,” said the parasite.

“And the organics are just sitting in there, waiting to be transferred. One of many. Pick and choose, whichever one. Like a catalogue.”

“You really don’t understand,” said the parasite. “One? That would be like… fitting a single engine to a ship when two or four or more would make the ship the fastest thing in the universe. But in the case of your kind, two would shake the ship to pieces, because of inferior workmanship.”

The parasite was trying to put it in terms it felt Ubik would be able to grasp more easily. And he did. He understood that humans were fragile and delicate. Only some of them could manage one organic, and at a very reduced power level. Two would be too much. Not that anyone had ever tried.

Ubik understood. But even if it was unlikely to work, you would think it would be worth trying at least once. Sometimes the specs surprised you, once you pushed them past their limits.

“How many organics could you get out of there and put in a human, hypothetically?”

“I told you, you aren’t compatible.”

“Not me,” said Ubik. “I wouldn’t do anything that risky. But I think I know the ideal candidate.”

He started to withdraw from the bone. Voices began to filter back into his consciousness.

“You mean he took control of a character in your simulation.”

“Yes.”

“Like a real person?”

“Yes. Like him. He copied the way he talked and everything.

“Did he touch you? You know you’re weak to being touched.”

“Leyla, shut up. He can hear you.”

“He’s in some kind of trance.”

“Not him. Him.”

“Um,” said PT. “I wasn’t listening. Really. But you said the parasite, it was like Ubik? How much like him?”

“A lot. But not as crazy. More reasonable.”

“The alien was the reasonable one?”

“I’m just saying, if it did take over his body, it wouldn’t necessarily be a bad thing. We could probably come to an arrangement.”

“You’re saying it would be easier with the parasite in control,” said PT, sounding dubious. “We should side with the parasite?”

“No, no. Only if — if — it takes over.”

“Hey, quiet. I think he’s back.”

Ubik opened his eyes to find three suspiciously guilty-looking faces.

“What?” asked Ubik.

“Nothing,” said PT. “Did you find anything interesting?”

“I did, actually, yes.” Ubik smiled. “But I’m going to need a volunteer. PT, I’d like to introduce you to someone.”

Book 3 – 24: Overload

Wormhole Island - Interior.

White Forest Room.

 

Devora Sway, General of the Seneca Corps, could feel the Chairman of VendX Galactic — that odious den of salesmen and merchants — probing her mind and she was furious.

Her body was taut and filled with power and disgust in equal measure; her fists were clenched so tight her nails would have pierced her own skin if her rampant organic hadn’t already turned the surface of her body as hard as diamond; her eyes were glowing so intensely her eyelashes were becoming singed.

She had been forced into a situation she did not approve of due to the requirements of mutual benefit.

The Corps did not work for mutual benefit.

Mutual benefit was a form of compromise offered by the weak while they built up their strength to eventually take total control.

It was the landing party for a full invasion.

General Devora Sway was one of the six Supreme Generals of the Seneca Corps’ War Cabinet. She was answerable only to the High Council, and even they were wary of asking her too many questions. They assigned her a goal to accomplish, but how she went about the task was up to her. Whatever the method, however much destruction, whoever the casualties — the path was hers to choose.

The Corps did not shackle its warriors. It did not prescribe a course of action. It just demanded results. At any cost. At nearly any cost.

The tree… insisted the notion now planted in her mind.

The Chairman had the ability to influence others with organics. An ability that had been jacked-up to extreme levels by the energy field in this blasted place. He had caught her out once, when she hadn’t expected it, but now that her guard was up, she was confident her training could keep him at bay.

But he had wheedled his way to gaining her consent. It sickened her.

She had let him in because it was the only way to communicate without the Fourth hearing it. She suspected this was his plan all along — get her to lower her mental barricade and slowly take over. Perhaps summoning the Fourth had also been part of it, to force her hand.

The tree…

General Sway gritted her teeth. Now was not the time to dwell on such matters. Whatever the reason, the Fourth was here. She had seen what had happened to the VendX employee the Fourth had vapourised. It was clear that her death had been instigated via the woman’s organic. The power surge had overloaded it to the point of utter destruction. Gone in a puff of dust and taking its host with it.

The power had come through the tree, the tree which was glowing still, pulsing slightly, and so the tree had to go.

The tree… No compulsion, just the notion on repeat in her head.

Sway yelled and turned, slamming her fist into the pale trunk of the tree. Her hand met the crystalline surface and there was a momentary pause before her hand passed through it, shattering the tree like glass.

The light blinked out. The presence that had been so oppressive a moment ago was gone. The Fourth had been able to come here through the tree. It had obliterated the VendX woman through the tree. The tree the VendX people had reactivated.

Sway moved a few steps to stand over the one called Bashir. He was lying on the floor, his arms over his face to protect himself from the flying shards that had already left his face a mess of cuts. He was shaking.

“What did you do?” Sway asked with teeth clenched. “You led it here. You killed that woman. She was your colleague and now she’s dead because of you.”

Bashir said nothing and proceeded to shake even harder.

Suddenly, a light appeared. Another of the trees had started to glow.

The tree…

“Get out of my head,” yelled Sway, snapping her head around to glare at the VendX Chairman.

His blind eyes saw none of her rage, but she knew he felt it. Enjoyed it, even. His huge, bulbous body so smug and proud at the centre of the chaos he aimed to use to his advantage.

She was on the back foot here. No matter how desperate the situation, there had to be a way for her to regain superiority.

She moved at startling speed to the newly-lit tree and punched it without reservation. It exploded into a shower of tiny pieces. A couple of seconds later, a third tree flashed coldly in the dark.

General Sway gave orders to her soldiers to follow her example. If they wanted to keep the Fourth at bay, they needed to keep destroying the trees as soon as the first spark appeared in the dark. That was how it was able to appear here, and also how it could kill them.

Her people moved on her silent command, spreading out to await the next flicker, and then rushing to attack it. But there were a lot of trees in the forest.

Sway turned her attention to the VendX chairman. He had wanted her to buy time so his people could get information from the network. The one who seemed to have succeeded — Bashir — was now in the Chairman’s hands. Literally.

While Sway had been destroying trees, the VendX troopers had grabbed Bashir and brought him to their gluttonous leader, who had handfuls of the man’s suit in his clenched fists, pulling him up so they were face to face, close enough to kiss.

But there was nothing romantic in the way the Chairman looked into Bashir’s pale terrified face. The Chairman seemed to be sucking the life out of Bashir who was ageing in front of her eyes. It was horrific to see.

She had thought the Chairman’s organic effected some sort of mind-control. Even with a boost to his abilities, he shouldn’t have been able to take anything more than information out of his employee’s brain. But it looked like he was extracting the man’s very soul.

“What are you doing?” yelled Sway.

“He’s getting what we need,” said Daccord, stepping out from the group, anxious and jittery. “Keep the Fourth busy.” He wasn’t behaving like he was used to seeing his boss act this way. “Please.”

Sway didn’t like to be told what to do. And she didn’t like being kept in the dark.

Her soldiers were doing their job well enough — as soon as the Fourth tried to reappear, the tree chosen would be decimated — but even that concerned her.

This place was meant to restrain it — a prison, a dungeon with no way out — but instead it was using the trees to leave its cell.

And why did it feel the need to attack them? There was some conflict between the two parties, and they had been warned to avoid hostilities, but nothing warranted this kind of reaction. If the Fourth killed them all, how were they supposed to complete the task it had set them?

Until she had some answers to these questions, Sway had decided to play along with the Chairman, be his strike team while he retrieved the intel he needed to make his next move. Once she knew what that next move was, then it would be time to disabuse him of the idea that he was the one in charge here.

Two trees lit up at the same time, and were extinguished. Then three. Her soldiers were barely managing to keep up. Where was the Fourth drawing its power from? Had it misled them into thinking it was a captive here? If so, for what reason?

There was a loud zap and then the smell of burnt flesh that she recognised from earlier. Someone had just been vapourised. She tried to see if it had been one of hers, but it was impossible to tell.

When she looked back at the Chairman, she was shocked to find Bashir lying on the ground alone. The chairman had abandoned him and was now on the move. He had a group of his VendX troopers around him, each with a hand touching his body as they guided him through the trees. There was a path cleared for them thanks to the Seneca Corps deforestation efforts.

They were moving fast and in a very determined manner, as though they knew exactly where they were going.

Sway started sending signals. She would follow the same path, but she did not wish to go together with them. Her well-honed battle instincts were telling her something was amiss here.

She understood that the Chairman had learned some new information and was acting on it. Most likely it was a route to the sigil or to an exit. What didn’t make sense to her was that the route was the same as the path cleared by destroying trees.

Trees that had been illuminated by the Fourth. It could hardly be a coincidence. The Fourth had just happened to appear in the direction the Chairman needed to go? It was far more likely that the Fourth had arranged for its appearances to open a path. A path it wanted them to take.

They were being led into a trap, that much seemed obvious. Knowing it didn’t make it any easier to avoid. Sometimes, the best way to deal with a trap was to trigger it.

The Corps reformed ranks around their General, picking up Bashir as instructed. His body was limp and shrivelled. Whatever he had discovered, Sway wanted to know it first hand. She would have him debriefed later. For now, they needed to stay close enough to VendX to work out where they were headed, and far enough from them to avoid whatever fate the Fourth had in store for them.

Sway made a quick headcount. Two of her people were missing.

“Jupila, what’s wrong with him?”

Her adjutant placed a hand on Bashir’s chest as he was carried between two people.

“Dehydrated. Severely.”

“Fix him,” ordered General Sway.

Jupila took out a bottle of pills and shook one out into her hand. She pushed it into Bashir’s mouth and bent over him as the group kept pace with the VendX team ahead of them. She grabbed Bashir by the nose and chin, prising his mouth a little open, and placed her own mouth over his. Her eyes glowed blue and she violently blew air into his lungs, making his whole body go stiff.

“It’s in,” said Jupila. “Don’t drop him.”

Bashir began to shake as the pill dissolved into the lining of his lungs.

They had reached an area where the trees hadn’t been destroyed. There was still a clear path ahead but it was much narrower now. The VendX team forged on with no regard for their proximity to possible danger.

The trees lining their route lit up ahead of them, lighting a route for them to follow.

“Guns,” muttered Bashir. “Too many guns.” He seemed to be delirious and not making sense. Whatever the Chairman had taken from him, it had left him incoherent.

Trees flashed on either side of them, the lights rushing from one to the next in waves making it harder to smash the Fourth back into its box. And even if it were possible, there seemed to be no way to stop it coming back.

The tightly bound VendX crowd rushed on, eager to reach the end of their journey, the Chairman leading from the middle.

Her soldiers lunged at the trees, cracking them in half, futile or not.

Just what was this place and what was the Fourth really after? It already seemed to have the run of the place.

General Sway looked down at Bashir. If there was just somewhere to stop and investigate what he’d seen, perhaps she would be able to figure it out. Tactics and strategies had always been her strong suit. Everyone tried to disguise their true intentions, but no one ever hid them well enough.

The trees were lighting up faster now, so that it seemed several were lit up at the same time. She knew what would come next — an attack.

“Guns, guns, guns.” Bashir writhed in panic. “Don’t shoot.”

“Tighten formation,” she called out. “Reduce speed.”

Her guess was that the ones in front would be the target. She wanted to present her own group as less of a threat and clearly distinct from the lead group.

“Stay low, keep moving,” she ordered. The build-up was palpable. The air crackled. t was coming. She tensed, hoping the Fourth would choose to disable the group in front.

There was a sudden increase in illumination as all the trees around them turned brilliant white and several streaks of lightning shot out. Everyone was a target.

Around her, six women were struck and turned to instant ash. Ahead, at least six were also hit. The trees fell into darkness. Had the Fourth expended all its energy for a single lethal surge?

Both groups kept moving. She ordered the remaining soldiers to speed up. Whatever lay ahead, now was not the time to be left behind.

There was an opening in the wall, thin and incredibly tall. They ran towards it.

Another brilliant flash of white light. Lightning took out four more of hers, an unknown number of the others. Sway stepped in to grab Bashir’s feet as the soldier assigned the role disintegrated.

The VendX people disappeared into the opening. There was no indication of their fate. There was no time to stop and consider the options. They ran into the dark gap in the black wall.

A room, as tall as the one they’d fled from, but no trees. Instead, the room contained huge weapons. They were guns of some kind, but so large they would need to be mounted on a vehicle to fire.

“Well done,” said the Chairman. “As expected, the Seneca Corps persevere through adversity with aplomb.” The congratulations sounded sincere if grim. “Daccord, where are we? Is this the armoury?”

“Ah, yes, Chairman.” Daccord blinked as he looked around. “I think this is… some sort of armoury. But these weapons...”

The Chairman seemed pleased, satisfied with himself, like a dog that had sniffed out a delicacy, saliva practically dripping from its mouth.

“They are handguns,” said the Chairman. “You can tell from the design.”

He was right, they looked like they were designed to be fired by hand, if your hand happened to be the size of a human body.

“We can use these to fight back,” said the Chairman. “They were made to kill a god.”

Book 3 – 23: Ambitious

Wormhole Island - Interior.

White Forest Room.

 

Secretary Daccord woke as the trees around him burst into fountains of sparks, momentarily lighting up a forest dotted with surprised faces, before fading to darkness. He exhaled a soft sigh of regret. It had been a wonderfully comfortable dream.

He stood there, listening while holding his breath. He could hear heavy breathing from right behind him. The weighty breath of a large, heavy man.

The dream had been a simulation, he realised that now. It had all been far too real to just be a dream.

He had been on a small planet somewhere out near the rim of the galaxy where life lacked structure but opportunities presented themselves for the taking. If you worked for a corporation like VendX, there were always opportunities, but the quality of those opportunities tended to mirror one’s status.

You could improve your situation bit by bit, but the really lucrative chances were snatched up by those who already had everything. That’s just how it was in the ever-competitive world of business.

But out on the rim, there was a near-perpetual gold rush and anyone could make their claim, murdering and slaughtering anyone who stood in their way, regardless of family connections or corporate allegiances. Daccord had always been something of a romantic.

Even a lowly shopkeeper had the chance to start his own empire out on the rim. Although, statistically, you were around ten thousand times more likely to die of an unknown contagion before you reached thirty. That was even if you had full medical coverage — and if you could afford full-med, why would you be out scrabbling in the wilderness?

A heavy hand patted him on his shoulder. “Daccord,” said a booming voice from just behind him. “Were you trapped in a simulation just now?”

“Yes, sir,” said Daccord. “It seems the white trees I mentioned before were involved. They’ve been knocked out, so we’re in complete darkness.”

They had entered a large chamber full of the tree-like structures, gently glowing to light the area in misty white light. They had taken every precaution when entering. The same energy that boosted organics was the only thing they found, bathing them all — VendX and Seneca — in the warmth of a higher power. Too good to be true.

“Hmmph,” said the Chairman of VendX, not sounding particularly concerned. Then again, being blind, his whole life was spent in the dark. “Our people?”

“I don’t think there have been any injuries,” said Daccord. He assumed there would be cries of pain if that were the case. Some of them could have died, though.

“And their people?”

“I don’t know, sir. I imagine they had the same experience as us.”

Daccord understood the Chairman was referring to the Corps. The two groups had entered the forest of strange white trees at the same time. It was only once they reached the middle of the chamber that they had been dragged into a forced simulation. The reason for this was not clear, but it had proven impossible to break out of, assuming you wanted to.

And then the trees had let them go. And left them in the dark.

“Oh, I see some lights, sir.”

Small personal lights started to appear around them. They were emergency snap tubes that provided a few hours of green luminescence. Standard mandatory VendX equipment that no one liked to use unless they had to. Replacements had to be paid for.

Judging by the number of green pools of light, most of the VendX team had remained close by. The lights appearing were followed by a number of yells as some of the snap tubes caught fire. It was a known flaw but a recall wasn’t deemed necessary. Hardly anyone ever used them.

“Did you see, Daccord? In the simulation, did you see it?”

“See what, sir?”

“The way out.”

“Erm, no, sir, I’m afraid I didn’t.” It was always a difficult choice when it came to looking like an idiot and looking like a liar. In business, the people you worked for wanted to feel you were good enough to work for them, and dumb enough to not pose a threat to their ambitions.

He wondered what kind of simulation the Chairman had found himself in. What did a man like him consider a desirable fantasy? It would probably be best not to know.

“This whole place is obsolete,” said the Chairman. “A derelict. Riddled with vulnerabilities. We can take over the ship. I should have realised when we found those cubes.”

“The puzzle, sir?” The last room had contained several exits and strange cubes with patterns on each side. The Corps had worked out that there was a way to open the passages using the right combination of cubes. VendX had followed likewise. They had been close to solving the puzzle when the Null Void had appeared and overridden their plans.

The boy was going to be a problem. Daccord knew the Chairman still intended to deal with him once the immediate issue was dealt with. Revenge seemed such a petty goal, especially when there was no financial gain to be had.

“No, not a puzzle,” said the Chairman. “Cargo with location codes. Only the assigned cube can pass through the allocated door. Simple logistics. This place is the same. These ‘trees’ are charging stations for organics. And they connect to the rest of the ship through their ‘roots’. We merely have to access the main database through them and we will find what we need.”

“Yes, sir. How should we proceed?” Daccord had no idea how they had gone from stumbling around in the dark — and that was before the lights went out — to being on the brink of taking control, but he was willing to believe it. The Chairman was a man of great insights. His three books on success in business were all bestsellers.

“How many infoganics do we have?”

Daccord had to think for a moment. He didn’t have access to his datapad, but he had made a mental note of the organic types among the VendX survivors.

“Erm… three, sir. A long-range detector, a blocker and a hacker.”

“Good, very good,” said the Chairman. “With the boost in power they’ve all received, that should be enough. Bring those three to the nearest tree conduit. It doesn’t matter which one, they should all be inert at this moment.”

He was right. The trees were now dull-white crystalline structures, like ice sculpture props for a shop window.

“Everyone else, I want them to form a defensive perimeter around this position, thirty metres, no one to enter. Absolutely no one.” It was clear he meant the Seneca women.

“Yes, sir.” Daccord looked around for green-tinted faces he recognised at the small pools among the trees. “Renson, Hartigan, form up a defensive line with, circle, three-zero from my position.”

Feet started running as orders were barked and VendX troopers began to organise themselves.

“Bashir, Welu, Osaga, with me.” Daccord called out the last three names slightly louder, not being sure where those three were.

Within a few seconds, all three were jogging towards him. They stopped in front of him, ready for their orders, two of them looking a little concerned, one looking extremely nervous.

“Bashir, what’s wrong with you?” said Daccord.

“Nothing, Secretary Daccord,” said Bashir, fidgeting and glancing around. He was from the special op force that had been sent to the asteroid as a preemptive strike force. The rest of his squad were dead. Apart from one other. Daccord looked around to see where she had got to.

“I want you three to direct your organics towards that tree,” said Daccord.

They all turned to look at the tree and then back at Daccord.

“You want us to go back in there?” said Bashir.

Daccord didn’t like the way the man’s voice trembled. He was an experienced operative. Even if his whole team had been wiped out, he should still follow orders like a professional. That’s what he was being paid for.

“Yes. You have a problem with that?”

“No, Mr Secretary,” said Bashir, sounding like he was about to bring up the problem, “but we just broke out of there. Why do you want us to go back in?”

On the surface, it did seem a reasonable question, but it was still being posed in a doubtful manner, as though no answer was going to be very convincing.

“Aren’t they broken?” asked Osaga. The dissent was spreading. They’d want to unionise next.

“Yes, they are. That’s why you won’t be at risk when you go in. Pay will be doubled for the duration of this incursion.” In the end, money solved all problems.

“If there isn’t any risk, why are we getting danger money?” asked Welu, with no snark. Her face was devoid of emotion, she was just making sure she understood the brief.

“It isn’t danger money, it’s incentivisation. You will enter the network that connects all the trees in this room with all the trees spread around this ship, and you will gather information on…” He turned to look at the Chairman who hadn’t said anything so far.

“Find the sigil and the most direct route there,” said the Chairman, who had an uncanny ability to know when he was being looked at. “Use your newly enhanced organics to force yourself into the network. Even dead, it will provide you with empty channels to flow through. Work together to scan as quickly as you can. A big ship like this will naturally have a simple layout.

The three infoganics nodded. It made it much easier to accept a mission when it was given by the Chairman.

The three of them approached a tree from three different sides and placed their hands on the trunk. None of them looked convinced this was a good idea, but they at least followed orders. Three pairs of eyes lit up with a light far more intense than any of them had been capable of before.

“We have been breached,” said the Chairman in a matter of fact tone. Daccord scanned the area looking for an intruder.

There was a rush of air. A dozen or more figures appeared around the tree, crouched but moving swiftly to surround the three infoganics, having somehow gotten past the outer ring of defenders.

They held rudimentary weapons in their hands — sticks, swords, spears — that were crudely made, but in their hands they looked menacing and deadly. They took up position, ready to attack those around the tree and also anyone who might rush in from the perimeter, should they notice their lines had been breached.

Daccord had been waiting for Seneca to interfere at some point, but not in such a direct manner. It was neither surprising nor unexpected, just annoying.

“You don’t want to do that,” said General Sway from on top of the tree where the branches flattened out. How she had climbed up there without being seen was truly impressive.

“We aren’t doing your people any harm, General,” said Daccord, keeping his voice even. “Please remove your troops and keep to your own area, as agreed.”

“We just managed to turn these light prisons off, now you want them back online?” She made it sound like a ridiculous proposition. “Are you completely stupid?”

“That isn’t what we’re doing, General,” said Daccord. “We have every right—”

“One moment, Daccord,” said the Chairman. He lifted his face, his sightless eyes closed, a thin smile on his lips. “General Sway, there is no reason for us to be in conflict, our purpose is the same.”

“Is it?” said the General. “I am not so sure. Your purpose at the moment appears to involve turning the power back on and allowing our host to resume observing us. I don’t like to be observed, Chairman. It makes it so much harder to perform unsavoury acts, don’t you agree?”

The threat wasn’t subtle. The Fourth had warned them not to fight amongst themselves and very likely had the power to punish those who ignored the directive, but now that they were in the dark, were they still being watched? And even if they were, how could they be punished? The power the Fourth used had just blown a fuse, and standard technology didn’t work here — no droids, no defence grid.

If General Sway wished to execute her rivals, now would seem to be the best time.

The Chairman scoffed lightly, a quivering sound from somewhere inside his voluminous throat. “You take it for granted that your women would be able to deal with my VendX specials?”

“I do,” said General Sway with complete confidence and barely any swagger, making it clear how little esteem she held VendX in.

Daccord could hear a soft growl coming from behind him.

“I dare say you’re right,” said the Chairman. “Your reputation certainly precedes you, General. But this is no detonation from orbit. You won’t be able to overwhelm us with superior battle tech. Hand to hand fighting is a dirty business, General. Desperate people will act in a most barbaric manner. Trust me, I know. Our sales strategies are based on it.”

There was a moment of silence as the Chairman’s somewhat more indirect counter-threat sank in. Seneca would win but at what cost? Certainly, they wouldn’t come out unscathed. And what would they gain? It wasn’t even clear what the Fourth planned to do with them.

“But there is no need to lock horns yet. There is a path to our goal here, one that will require us to work in tandem. I know you do not value partnership, but expediency is worth making a one-time exception.”

Seneca were known to reject cooperation. They saw it as a weakness that could be exploited. But the Chairman obviously saw a way to convince them otherwise. He was a brilliant tactician, and a legendary salesman. Daccord waited with bated breath to see how he would make such an impossible pitch work.

“You have nothing we need,” said General Sway. “Only consequences to share.” She looked down through the branches at the three infoganics with their eyes alight and their bodies frozen as they tried to manage the uptick in power surging through them. The tree was as inert as before.

“There are things you aren’t aware of,” said the Chairman. “Things VendX has knowledge of, about the old Antecessors, the ones who came before.”

Sway’s face remained impassive, but there was a glint in her eye. She wasn’t nibbling yet, but the hook was within reach of her lips.

“And your tiny little corp knows secrets even the megacorps aren’t aware of?”

“We have some investors that might surprise you,” said the Chairman. “We won’t always be prowling around the edges of the quadrant. We are building up to make our move, and we have accumulated the necessary data to do so. This ship, this network we’ve stumbled onto, it is more than oddly-shaped lamp posts We can—”

“Ah!” cried out Bashir, his body stiffening as he rose onto his toes as though he was preparing to float into the air. “I see it.” The tree began to glow at the tips of its branches.

“Stop him,” said Sway. The Seneca soldiers attacked, weapons thrusting at the three targets.

The tree flashed blinding white. Everyone covered their eyes, crying out in pain as they were sent flying away from the tree. Sway was sent crashing to the ground.

Two of the infoganics slumped, their hands still attached to the tree. Bashir remained standing, white glow flooding down the trunk and into his arms.

Only the Chairman didn’t flinch. “Did it work?” he demanded to know. No one answered him. “I said, did it work?”

“What are you doing?” asked a soft voice heavy with disappointment. “Did I not warn you to keep the peace? Now it seems you will have to die.”

Osaga screamed and was thrown from the tree. Her body had turned to ash before she hit the ground.

“Did it work?” shouted the Chairman.

“I can see… the way to the sigil,” moaned Bashir weakly.

“The shortcut?” said the Chairman.

“Yes.”

“Now, General,” said the Chairman. “Be a slave to a god’s whims, or join me in risking everything.”

He was grinning. His eyes were glowing and his mouth was shaped into a smile of pure malice. Whatever his plan, he was betting it all on this one gamble.

Not all gamblers were successful, but all successful people were gamblers. Daccord knew that because it was the premise of the Chairman’s first book, Choose Your House.

One rule was inviolate in gambling; the house always wins. Which was why you never made bets with the house, you made bets with the person next to you at the table.

General Sway rose to her feet. Her eyes were already on fire.

Book 3 – 22: Twobiks Enter

Wormhole Island - Interior.

Simulation.

 

Ubik II flipped his hands and produced two daggers out of thin air. He threw them both and Ubik only just managed to avoid having his eyes poked out by falling onto his backside. He got back to his feet. There were already two more daggers in Ubik II’s hands. The parasite had taken control of the simulation pretty smoothly.

“Oi, you sponger, how is this the correct way to show gratitude?” shouted Ubik with the appropriate level of disappointment and justified rancour. Duels were all about taking the high ground. “After all the nourishment and nurture I gave you. Ingrate.”

Ubik raised his fist and adjusted his stance.

“I don’t normally use violence to solve problems but you have a very punchable face.”

The parasite tilted Ubik II’s head to the side and squinted one eye. “But I have your face.”

“Yes,” said Ubik, “and it doesn’t suit you at all. Come on. Do you want closed hand or open hand?” He flexed his fists open and closed. “I think someone needs the bitch slapped out of them.”

Ubik started to circle the parasite, fists up by his temples, head bobbing. Two daggers whizzed past. Ubik smiled. “That all you got?”

Ubik II shrugged and pulled out a sword. It was a thin foil with a basket handle. He pointed the business end at Ubik.

“Hey, that’s cheating.” Ubik lowered his fists and straightened his posture. “What are you trying to do? Give alien parasites a bad name?”

“I am not a parasite, and you are the alien here. I am the last vestige of hope for a mighty race of superior beings. I will not fail in my mission. You are no more than an empty vessel without purpose. You are not qualified to be my opponent.”

“Don’t you think this arrogance is uncalled for?” said Ubik.

There was a snort from behind him. “It sounds just like you.”

Ubik glanced over his shoulder. “That’s because I’ve been its incubator. It’s been learning how to communicate from me, how to best adapt to its new environment so it can fulfil its mission. Obviously, emulating me is its best shot. But a single-celled organism like this is very single-minded. Lacks imagination. That’s why I—”

Ubik ducked as the sword jabbed at his head, then skipped backwards as Ubik II charged forward, swinging and slashing.

Ubik was forced to retreat, dodging each cut and thrust that was sent at him so fast he could see multiple after-images.

“Why are you letting him take over your world?” Ubik shouted at Weyla.

She was standing there doing nothing, more interested in being an observer than helping; like a princess watching two beaus duel for her affections.

“What do you want me to do? It wouldn’t be a fair fight if I attacked him.”

“Fair?” Ubik ran behind a column and jumped from side to side as the stone pillar was hacked to pieces. “You’re in the Corps. What has fair got to do with winning?”

“I left the Corps,” said Weyla.

“Does anyone ever really leave the Corps?” said Ubik.

“Yes,” said Weyla as Ubik stumbled backwards past her, dodging and weaving. “We have our own support group and veterans association. There are more of us than you’d think.”

Ubik kept moving, running around pillars, looking for something to throw. “Look, the only reason he can take control of your butler is because you’re letting him. The simulation doesn’t force a matrix on you, it takes whatever’s going on in your mind and extrapolates so you have something to do while your organics get charged up.”

“I’m not letting him do anything,” insisted Weyla.

“He pulled a sword out of his ass. Did you put it there? I really hope not because that would mean you have even more serious psychological problems than I thought. Just push the parasite out and shut this place down.”

Weyla exhaled through her nose and closed her eyes. Her head trembled as she concentrated.

Ubik II kept lunging at Ubik’s vital parts. Nothing changed. Fortunately, the parasite didn’t offer much variation. One-cell organisms tended to be tenacious but predictable.

Judging from the expressions coming and going across Weyla’s face, she was too distracted to be of much help. Somebody else’s confused and turbulent psyche wasn’t the best place to have a duel. If it had been his own confused and turbulent psyche, that would be different. The scenery would be a lot more interesting for a start.

The palace flickered into existence for a moment, but reverted to the dingy cavern the parasite preferred.

“Keep trying,” he shouted as encouragement.

A shadow fell across Ubik II’s face, an effect of the deadly intent the parasite was exuding. His eyes glinted with dark fury, nothing like the timid, obedient eyes of the butler Weyla had cultivated in her imagination.

It was certainly trying its hardest to kill him, but with a sword? Where had it come up with that idea?

Ubik stopped retreating and stood still as the next attack came thrusting forward. He didn’t even bother to evade it, he just grabbed the sword by the blade. The tip looked sharp but the blade had no edge, so it didn’t hurt.

“Okay, enough,” said Ubik. “I thought me being in danger might spur her into action, but no. So let's try putting your neck on the chopping block.”

With a click of his heels, his boots came online. Ubik kicked at the hand holding the other end of the sword, activating his boots’ grav plates at the same time, and Ubik II was sent flying backwards. Ubik tossed the sword up so it spun around. He caught it by the hilt and pointed it at Ubik II.

“I always thought swords were impractical weapons,” said Ubik. “But pretty cool.”

“Yes,” said the parasite. “That’s why I knew you’d try to take it off me.”

The sword glowed an intense red before exploding.

He was blown across the room, his clothes ripped to pieces and his face stinging like it was one huge shaving accident doused in alcohol.

Ubik II came at him like a storm. He leapt and spun, going low, going high, his legs kicking out at different heights — at all heights, it felt like. It was all Ubik could do to deflect the pointy, well-polished shoes striking at him.

“Ow, ow, hurts.” His hands were covered in blood and the skin was almost entirely peeled off. It wasn’t real blood, of course. A simulation wasn’t real. It just felt real.

Ubik blocked with his elbows and knees while screaming every time he made contact. Fists were coming in behind kicks and he was being backed into a corner.

Luckily, his Delgados gave him just enough of an edge to keep out of range. He kicked off the wall, landed hard enough to create a small shockwave that put Ubik II off-balance, and mounted a counterattack.

It had taken a few minutes of careful defending to work out the parasite’s pattern of attack. It was fast and used multiple combinations, but it was still lacking in imagination. Why bother with the unexpected when you could beat someone over the head with the obvious?

Ubik waited, waited, waited… and then timed his next kick to match his opponent’s. Their feet met in the middle and shoe smashed into boot. There was never any doubt to the outcome. Even in a simulation, Delgados didn’t lose out in a toe-to-toe battle.

Ubik II’s foot buckled at an unnatural angle and the next spin-kick collapsed as soon as his damaged limb touched the ground.

Ubik was already airborne, leaping with his landing spot already designated — one neatly combed but very oily head.

As his reinforced heel was about to crush the nose of his horrified victim, Weyla called out a desperate plea. “Don’t hurt him!”

It wasn’t just the inappropriate timing that was shocking, it was the idea of a Seneca stalwart speaking up for a man. Had the universe been flipped upside down?

Rather than stamping down hard and crushing the head like an overripe fruit, Ubik landed and stepped off the face in a quick hop, which was still enough to leave the parasitised butler prostrated and dazed.

Ubik swivelled around and walked up to Weyla with a sour expression. “What do you mean, don’t hurt him? He isn’t even real. Plus, he’s the enemy, remember? What the hell happened to you? Did it really break your mind when that guy dumped you? Where’s your self-respect? Can’t you function like a normal human being anymore? You’re Seneca. You stay on target until mission-end, don’t you? Do you have any idea how much harder this would be if it had worked out that tronics work in here and it didn’t need swords and daggers?” He stood in front of Weyla with his hands on his hips. “Now, focus your brain and give me a proper weapon.” He put out his hand. “Preferably something with a grenade-launching attachment.”

Weyla’s eyes grew bigger and rounder. She wasn’t looking at Ubik, though. She was staring over his shoulder.

Ubik turned to follow her gaze.

“Oh, shit.”

Behind him, Ubik II had risen. Not only to his feet but into the air. And around him pieces of Antecessor tech had appeared and were collecting like a suit of armour. Within a few seconds, his entire body was covered in black plates covered in white lines. Extra limb, weapon turrets, tentacles and a large scythe coming out of its back.

“I think you helped jog its memory,” said Weyla.

It seemed the parasite had not only figured out that tronics worked here, it had taken advantage of Weyla’s distraction to turn Ubik II into a droid. A big one.

“I’ve never seen one like that before,” said Ubik. It was similar to droids he’d seen, but with added death flags.

“This was one of the battle droids we used when I was first created,” said the parasite from somewhere inside the armoured body. “Its destructive capabilities are beyond anything you can imagine.”

“You think I’m scared?” said Ubik, shaking his head. He turned to Weyla. “Okay, you’re up.”

“Me? I thought you wanted me to change the simulation parameters.”

“I do. But you can fight that thing and switch settings at the same time. Punching someone will help you clear your mind. It's like meditation for you Seneca chicks, isn’t it?”

There was a flicker of doubt in her eyes and then she pushed him aside.

The droid towered over her, white lines streaking up and down its dark metal body, the arms ending in long tendrils that whipped about, ready to pin down anything that came within range.

Weyla eyes flashed red as she pounced, a streak of muscle bound in a flouncy dress. Now that her little manservant was covered up she seemed more able to beat the crap out of him. The two of them started to pound on each other.

The droid tried to ensnare Weyla in its tentacles while it kicked at her with its lower limbs. Weyla responded by ripping the tentacles out like weeds and using them to whip the droid’s face and head. The material was hard enough to cause quite a lot of damage.

“Change the simulation,” Ubik called out.

Weyla responded with a grunt — a sophisticated grunt that managed to convey the feeling that if he thought it was that easy to fight an Antecessor droid and make mental reconfigurations at the same time he should try it himself — but the cavern they were in changed to the palace.

Within a second or two, it changed back to the cavern. Then it changed to a spaceport — Ubik didn’t recognise which one — then back to a cavern. Well-cared-for training field, cavern, a monastery on top of a mountain, cavern, a basement full of weapons…

Ubik rushed to grab something that fired explosive shells but…

...a cavern.

The changes were happening so rapidly it was dizzying. The two combatants were still locked in battle, neither holding an advantage for very long as they swapped focus between smiting each other and trying to take control of the simulation.

“Hmm, interesting,” said Ubik. It wasn’t the alterations in his surroundings that were catching his attention, it was what he saw in between the swaps.

Every time the backdrop switched, for a fraction of a second he saw the space beyond the simulation.

“Keep going,” he shouted. “More. Faster.”

Weyla had her thighs around the droid’s head and was trying to break off its arm. “What?”

“More changes, different places. As many as you can. I can see a way out.”

The scenery began to change more rapidly. It didn’t wait for the cavern to appear, it kept switching.

“Great. Wait here.” Ubik ran at the wall.

“You better not leave me here,” shouted Weyla. But Ubik had run through the wall and disappeared.

At the same moment, the droid shattered, revealing Ubik II inside.

“Where did he go?” Weyla stared at the palace wall, serene and elegant, and shouted. “Ubik!”

“Madam?” said Ubik II meekly, his perfect hair a messy nest.

“Ubik! Come back here!” Weyla turned on Ubik II, nostrils flaring, eyes glowing incandescent. “This is all your fault.”

“I…” A look of terror crossed Ubik II’s face as Weyla descended on him.

From outside the simulation, Ubik watched Weyla take Ubik II by the throat and throttle him.

He was in some sort of non-space. It wasn’t a vacuum like in outer space, it was still inside the sim-U, or whatever the Antecessor used to hold minds inside these artificial realities, but he had fallen somewhere between the cracks.

It was quite a revelation to learn that Antecessor machines had cracks. Apart from the transparent sphere Weyla was strangling Ubik II in, there were many, many more spheres hanging in the darkness. They appeared to be the simulations holding the other arrivals on Prison Island — the VendX and Seneca people.

None of the constructs looked very stable. Ubik could feel the flow of energy, the strain on the system caused by so many simulations stuck in partial-completion. The system wasn’t designed to hold people indefinitely.

Not only that, but Weyla’s sphere had a number of other sphere’s extending from it. Every different setting she had manifested had its own sphere that hadn’t been deleted after it was replaced, and there was a very clear burden being placed on the system.

Even the creations of the great creators of the universe suffered from memory leaks.

“You found your way here,” said a voice that could have come from the darkness or it could be in his head.

“Yes. Are you still trying to kill me?” asked Ubik.

“I think that would be best.”

“Why? After all I did for you.”

“Did for me? You only care about your own survival.”

“Isn’t that why you hitched a ride with me?” Ubik looked around the endlessly confining darkness. “The Antecessors aren’t what they once were. Look at this place it’s falling apart.”

“Yes.” The parasite sounded almost sad. “The corruption has spread to an unmanageable level, even if there were anyone left to manage it. The strain your people are putting on it is too much.”

“We need a way out.”

“There isn’t one,” said the parasite. “And even if there was one, why bother?”

A depressed parasite, just what the world needed.

“It might not be the galaxy you expected, but you don’t know what’s going to happen next. It might surprise you. If you come with me, you can live long enough to find out.”

“Aren’t you the one most likely to kill me?”

“Yes,” said Ubik. “Which is why I’m the best person to guarantee your survival. I just have to do nothing.”

It was a risk, Ubik knew that. The parasite was changing, but changing into what? It had some knowledge of the Antecessors but it was little more than a tool to them. Still, it might come in useful.

“First you have to find a way out before the whole architecture collapses in on itself.”

It only took a moment for Ubik to work out how to use this to his advantage. Then he located the crack he had slipped out through and dived back in.

Weyla had Ubik II by the throat, his bulging eyes the only part of him still moving.

“Why? Why did you leave me? Why wasn’t I good enough?” she screamed at him.

“See?” said Ubik, taking her by surprise. “You can take charge when you want.”

Weyla dropped Ubik II, who fell to the floor in a heap, and stepped in front of the body. She faced Ubik with a wild look. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Did you find a way out”?”

“Don’t you want to make sure he’s alright?” Ubik II’s face was grey and he didn’t appear to be breathing. “Or have you come to your senses and realised how much superior the real thing is?”

Her face returned to its usual emotionless state, although she was breathing heavily. “How do we get out?”

“Same as before. Keep changing the background. As many different places as possible, as fast as possible. It’s going to draw a lot of energy, so be ready to grit your teeth and take it like a man.”

“What does that mean?”

“Oh, you’ve never heard that expression?” said Ubik. “Something my Grandma says a lot.”

Weyla gave him a dark look but then closed her eyes. The surroundings began to change. It was a lot easier without a droid trying to smash her into pieces.

The world crumbled and fell apart around then. Masonry fell but disappeared before it hit the ground. Darkness fell and a white mist enveloped them. When it cleared, they were looking at the double doors as they opened, liquid light spreading out from the white trees on either side, filling the markings in the wall. The room beyond contained something massive. It looked like a giant bone.

“You did it,” said PT. “Well done.”

Weyla stood up. She was looking down at herself like she wasn’t sure what she was seeing. “I feel… I feel different.”

The two white trees exploded in a shower of sparks, and the white lights covering the doors and walls went out, leaving them in the dark with the bone, which was gently glowing with a pulsating light, like a heartbeat.

Book 3 – 21: Doors Closed

Wormhole Island - Interior.

Simulation.

 

The moment Ubik entered Weyla’s simulation, he felt the pressure from the two trees disappear. Inside this artificial world, he was completely protected. It was a very interesting effect; one that a mere simulation shouldn’t have. But this simulation was far beyond the level of the sim-U machines he had been exposed to.

The palace he once again found himself in was glorious in its construction. A regular simulation replicated the world as accurately as it could, down to the molecular level, but this was something else. This was better than real.

Vivid. Intense. Brain-saturating. The colours, the light slanting in through the windows, the taste of the air, it was the difference between food that filled your belly and food made by a great chef. Both were ostensibly the same, but one made you feel a whole other level of sensation.

He spent a few moments appreciating the construct before he heard footsteps approaching and hid behind a pillar. He couldn’t help but marvel at the way the polished stone felt against his fingertips.

There were a dozen or so people approaching, led by Weyla. She was wearing an even more ostentatious gown than last time — far more colourful than the drab fatigues she usually wore — that looked very impractical for fighting. She also appeared to have a lot more hair than before. It was piled up on her head and held in place with bejewelled pins.

She presented a queenly figure with two columns of maids-in-waiting following behind, dressed in similar but less fancy dresses and their hair piled to a lesser height. And gracefully keeping to just about level with her, was another Ubik, dressed in smart black attire.

Ubik watched from behind the pillar as they paraded past. Where were they off to in such a hurry?

More to the point, what was the best way to use her strength to open the door?

He had told them that Weyla was the key to the giant double doors and that he could help her become capable of turning that key. He was sure she was the key — the symbols carved into the door said as much — and there was certainly a chance that he would be able to guide her into the keyhole, as it were, but exactly how to get her to unlock the huge doors while stuck in here was not immediately clear.

The footsteps stopped all at once. Ubik peered out from behind the white, silky-smooth column to find Weyla staring back at him.

“Come out. I can see you’re there.”

Ubik considered staying where he was and pretending he was a statue. There were bound to be loads of statues in a place like this. One more wouldn’t stand out.

“Here,” said Weyla, emphatically. She hardly said anything most of the time, but now that she was the queen of her own palace, suddenly she was assertive and brash, as though everyone also shared her delusions of grandeur. Power went straight to some people’s heads. “Now.”

Ubik felt himself move without actually moving. His feet were quite still and his joints and muscles weren’t in motion, but he moved nonetheless, stopping in front of Weyla and her retinue.

“I’ve been looking for you,” said Weyla.

“Me too,” said Ubik. “Finally, there you are! I love what you’ve done with the place. Your psyche has never looked better.”

“Cut the shit. Don’t think you can play any tricks in front of me, you and I know that you can’t escape from me in here. I am lord and master of this world.”

“Really? I’d heard all you Corps girls were mental, but this is quite nice. I like your hair, by the way. Very glamorous. And so tall.”

Weyla yanked off the wig to reveal her regular spiky haircut underneath. She reached out with her other hand and grimaced. Ubik rose into the air about a metre. There was pressure around his throat as though fingers were crushing his larynx. Or maybe a noose.

“Did you really think I would allow you back in without being ready? Do you know how many types of organics exert a psychic effect? The Corps trains us to have complete dominion over our minds — mental blocks, probe deflection, memory shields. You have no idea how many tedious courses I’ve had to take just so I was ready for pricks like you. You may have taken me by surprise last time, hiding in the shadows and spying on me like some kind of pervert, but now that I know you’re here, there’s nowhere for you to hide.”

“That’s great.” Ubik gently nodded so as not to strangle himself. “You’re already a long way to regaining control. Could you put me down?”

“A long way to regaining control? What do you mean a long way?” The pressure on his throat increased. “I am in total control. Now tell me how to increase my strength. I don’t feel any power-ups waiting to be picked up. How do I get boosted?”

“Well, yes, erm,” said Ubik, instilling no confidence in anyone, not even himself. “The exact method is something we need to work out together, as partners, so we get the right method for you. Right, partner?”

“I knew this would be a waste of time. You were making empty boasts as usual. We might as well go back. But not before I have a little fun with you first. What do you say?” She gave him a malicious smirk and turned him upside down with a flip of her hand.

Ubik didn’t mind. It was quite relaxing, actually. He felt very comfortable in her clutches. Some of the softest and most supportive clutches he’d been in.

“Can’t get out,” said Ubik. “If you release your senses outwards…”

Weyla closed her eyes and slowed her breathing as she reached out in all directions with her mind. This released Ubik, who clattered to the floor.

Concern spread across Weyla’s face. She opened her eyes. “There’s a barrier. We can’t pass through it?”

“Oh, I can,” said Ubik, getting to his feet. “But you can’t. Not without some help.”

“Then get out there and wake me up.”

“Sure, in a minute. But we’re here to do a job, right? Together.” He was about to give her a friendly punch on the arm, but saw how she was looking at him and decided to punch the air near her arm instead. “Eh, buddy?”

She was right, she was in control of the reality here, at least for now. It wouldn’t do him any good to upset her. Pain was still pain, even if it was a simulation.

“Do you have a plan?” she asked reluctantly.

Ubik smiled. “Of course. I have loads. What kind would you like?”

She stared at him for a good long while. “The kind that will open the door and let us out of here.”

“No problem. Have you tried sending your consciousness inwards, towards your organic?” He kept his voice upbeat and positive. Dumb people always liked it when things sounded good. Much better than real.

Weyla frowned ever harder but closed her eyes. A few seconds later she opened them again. “I can’t. There’s another barrier on the inside.”

“Really?” said Ubik. “Blockade, huh?” He hadn’t expected that.

“You didn’t expect that?” said Weyla.

“No, I totally did. Exactly as expected. Just checking. Energy field, right? Like a glass wall. Okay, then. Time to come up with a plan. I mean, I already have a plan, so time to put it into action. First—” Ubik stopped and pointed past Weyla. “Oh look, it’s me.”

Ubik II, who had been waiting quietly behind Weyla, raised his head, ready to receive instructions. He was dressed like a butler again, hair oiled and slicked back. And a thin moustache, which was new. Didn’t look too bad.

“Looks just like me, only more handsome. Can’t get my hair to stay down like that, though.” Ubik brushed a hand through his own hair. It flattened under his sliding palm and immediately popped back up again. “I hope you don’t make him perform unsavoury acts. Despite appearances, I’m not all that bendy.”

A blush of redness rose from Weyla’s chest where it was exposed by the neckline of her gown, up her face. And then it sank back down as though it was being forced to retreat.

Weyla’s eyes sank into her face as her brow descended. “He’s only here because I need a punching bag. But since you’re here, I guess I can give him the night off.”

“Is that right?” Ubik asked his doppelganger. “Does she beat you up?”

“Madam treats me well. I am happy to serve her in whatever capacity she sees fit.” The voice wasn’t quite right. Much too servile. Probably what she was going for.

“Nice. How’s the pay?”

“More than adequate,” said Ubik II.

“You’ve got him well trained, I’ll give you that,” said Ubik.

“Stop talking to him and get us out of here,” said Weyla.

“I am. This place might be under your control but it was created by them. When you need a way out of the playpen, ask one of the toys.”

Weyla looked from Ubik to Ubik II. “Him? You think he knows how to get out? Ubik, my… Ubik, do you know how to exit this simulation.”

“No, madam,” said Ubik II.

Weyla turned back to Ubik.

“Obviously he isn’t aware that he’s in a simulation,” said Ubik. “This is all real to him. But we can use him as a conduit into the system.”

“How likely is whatever you’re going to do to get me killed?” asked Weyla. Had she been talking to PT? Sounded like it.

“You must be joking,” said Ubik. He tapped himself on the chest. “I don’t put my friends’ lives in danger. Any risks I take are to make their situation better, no matter the personal cost to me.”

“Friends?” Ubik II seemed to have been startled into making an exclamation. “Ridiculous. When do you not deceive others for your own personal gain? You may be able to deceive others, but you can’t lie to me. Huh. Friendship. If there’s some advantage to it, you’ll be good to them, but if you were to face a crisis, you wouldn’t hesitate to abandon them without hesitation.”

Ubik stared intently at Ubik II. Something about his sudden loss of deference felt familiar.

“Be careful of this imposter, madam. It would be better if you stayed here with me.”

Weyla was also taken aback by the way Ubik II was speaking without prompting. “Stay here with you? Hmm. Do you know how to use the energy field to improve my organic’s strength?”

“I think I might be able to help,” said Ubik II.

“Do you know how to open the door into the main hull of the ship?” she asked.

“Not at the moment, but it could be possible to find a way if we work together,” said Ubik II.

“I don’t think you should listen to him,” said Ubik.

“Why not?” said Weyla. “You said he’s part of the system. He’ll know how to operate it.”

“He isn’t part of the system,” said Ubik.

“He isn’t?” Weyla looked confused. “Then what is he?”

Ubik approached his mirror-image. “How did you get in there?”

Ubik II stared back impassively.

“I asked you a question. Or do you want another beating?”

“You can’t do anything to me here,” said Ubik II.

“What’s going on?” said Weyla. “Who is he?”

Ubik raised his bare arm and tapped his wrist.

“Your parasite?” said Weyla. “How did it…”

“This is Antecessor tech and so is it. Your organic was meant to interact with the energy field being produced here but the problem is the user interface. Human. Didn’t even exist when organics were made. The parasite doesn’t have that issue. It can plug in directly.”

“This is bad,” said Weyla.

“No, it’s good,” said Ubik. “If it can access the system, then we can access the system through it.”

The scenery changed from sunlit palace interior to exitless cavern steeped in shadows. All of Weyla’s maids disappeared and only Ubik II remained.

“You have gone far enough,” said Ubik II. “The Fourth God doesn’t know you like I do. It would be best if you remained here.”

Neither Ubik nor Weyla could move. Feet stuck, legs unresponsive. He could twist at the hip and neck. Arms were pinned to his sides but he could make fists with his hands.

“Nope, you were right,” said Ubik, “this is bad. Bad, bad, bad.”

“You just swing from one extreme to the other, don’t you?” said Weyla. She dropped the wig she’d been carrying and focused on Ubik II. “This is still my mind realm. I might not be able to get out, but I can still control what happens in here.”

Her jaw tightened as she concentrated. Years of Seneca Corps training. The Corps made sure every soldier could resist mind control and tell the difference between real and virtual. She grunted with the effort but nothing happened.

“Why isn’t this working? I’m using my full psychic reserves.”

“I don’t know what that is,” said Ubik, “but you won’t be able to control him inside an Antecessor sim-U.”

“This is your fault,” said Weyla. “You brought that thing in here with you. Now it’s got my Ubik.”

“Your Ubik?” said Ubik. “FYI, legally speaking, I own all likeness and personal image rights.”

“Shut up,” said Weyla, struggling vainly to get free but staying fixed to the spot. “It’s not for commercial use, so it falls under fair use as long as it’s inside my head. Nobody gets to police my dreams.”

“Oh, so I’m also in your dreams.”

Weyla growled but said nothing and continued to struggle.

Ubik II stood watching them. He didn’t move, didn’t blink.

“Hey,” said Ubik from the side of his mouth. “Hey, Weyla, this is it.”

“This is what?”

“Our chance. Look, he’s trying to integrate with the ship’s systems.”

“Hasn’t he already done that?”

“No, he just took over this simulation. He still needs to follow the signal upstream to access the server. It won’t be easy, this thing is built for output not input.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means it chooses stuff from your subconscious, it doesn't take requests. Now’s your chance to get your Ubik back.”

Weyla stopped her squirming. “How?”

“Talk to him.”

“What good will that do?”

“He’s your Ubik. He might be built using their hardware, but it’s your software. They pulled him out of your head. You know him better than anyone. Get his attention.”

“Hey,” Weyla whispered hoarsely. “Ubik. Over here. Ubik.” She stopped. “It’s not working.”

“ You can’t treat him like just any old Ubik. He’ll respond to you if you treat him like your Ubik.”

Weyla didn’t look very comfortable with what Ubik was proposing. “Turn around.”

“I can’t turn around,” said Ubik.

“Then close your eyes.”

“Okay.” Ubik closed his eyes.

“And don’t listen.”

“I’m filling my mind with white noise.”

There was a long pause before Weyla spoke again, her voice softer and gentler. “Ubik dear, come here will you.”

Ubik had the eye on the side nearest Weyla closed, but the other squinted just enough to see Ubik II look up and then walk over to where Weyla was suspended.

“That’s lovely,” said Weyla. “Thank you, well done. Good boy. Now release me, will you? And then mistress will give you a treat.”

“Do you take him for walks and play fetch?”

“Supposed to be not listening.”

“I’m not. Carry on.”

It was harder to see Ubik II now that he was closer to Weyla and on Ubik’s blind side. He peeked with the other eye.

Ubik II had his head turned to the side, gently resting on Weyla’s chest.

Weyla lifted her arm and patted him on the top of his oily head.

Ubik coughed politely. “Ahem?”

Weyla, now free to move, grabbed Ubik by the shoulder and shoved him hard, sending him stumbling for a good few metres before catching himself.

“He isn’t you,” said Weyla. “He just looks a bit like you.”

Ubik had plenty of thoughts on why she would choose to have a lookalike of him as her pet, but he chose not to express them.

Ubik II lunged at Ubik, fists first.

It was a little unexpected but Ubik managed to dodge easily and then tripped him up so he went sprawling. “Is this how you think I fight?”

“I didn’t expect him to fight anyone,” said Weyla. “Why did he attack you?”

Ubik had no time to discuss the matter. Ubik II was back on his feet, but this time his stance was a little different. He came again, but this time smoother, ducking Ubik’s grab easily and shoulder barging him.

“Oh, you’re back,” said Ubik.

“I know all your tricks,” said Ubik II, no longer the deferential manservant. The parasite had retaken control.

“Okay,” said Ubik, taking a proper fighting stance, “let’s see how well you know me, ‘cos I’m about to give me a damn good thrashing.”

Book 3 – 20: Know It All

Wormhole Island - Interior.

 

Point-Two had noticed a change in Ubik’s behaviour — and he didn’t like it.

His usual behaviour wasn’t exactly great. In fact, it was incredibly infuriating, not to mention unreasonable and also preposterous. Basically, any word that indicated a disregard for others — their thoughts, their feelings, their safety — would not be out of place when describing the actions of Ubik U Ubik.

But right now he was being polite, considerate, cooperative…

Not to Point-Two, with whom he had been through many life-threatening moments and calamities. No, he was playing the perfect gentleman towards Weyla.

The Seneca mercenary had suddenly become the centre of Ubik’s world, and Point-Two didn’t like it at all.

They were currently in the passageway Ubik had opened up so casually. It was huge. They could have easily flown through it in the spaceship they had been on before arriving on this ancient island lost inside the wormhole.

The size of the island was vast and it would have taken them a huge amount of time to get anywhere on foot, but both Weyla and Leyla were at the very maximum of their abilities.

Leyla’s organic allowed her to move swiftly, so now she was able to travel at supersonic speed; although she was restricting her movements to stay abreast with her sister.

Weyla’s organic was strength-based. Pushed to its maximum, she was able to leap a vast distance in an instant.

The two sisters were able to traverse the enormous passage at blistering speed — one in mighty bounds, the other cruising alongside.

Point-Two and Ubik had no such powers. They had to rely on their female companions. Point-Two was riding on Leyla’s back, his arms wrapped around her neck.

Ubik was in Weyla’s arms, carried in front because who would want Ubik directly behind them. Ubik didn’t seem to mind being transported in such a manner. In fact, he seemed to be enjoying it very much.

The three of them — Point-Two, Weyla, Leyla — could all sense something had changed with Ubik and were treading carefully. They weren’t in the trap quite yet, but there was a definite sense of being in the trap waiting room.

At the same time, no one seemed willing to bring it up. When you had Ubik leading the way, pointing out interesting features, answering questions — all in a polite, deferential manner — it was hard not to take it at face value and hope for the best.

Point-Two had been in too many tight situations with Ubik (usually tight situations caused by Ubik) to think this was a new leaf for the Master of Mayhem, but it was providing them with a lot of information from the normally unreliable narrator of their unwanted adventure.

Where they were headed, how they would get there, the reason they wouldn’t encounter any opposition. It was all revealed without any of the usual smoke and mirrors Ubik was so fond of. It was very disconcerting.

“How can you be sure the Corps won’t get there first?” asked Weyla. She obviously knew something was up, but she was playing along. Allowing Ubik to think he was winning her over while carefully extracting as much intel from him as she could. Amateur.

“They don’t have anyone to pull them out of their simulations,” answered Ubik, with no sense of sarcasm, no little coda at the end to point out how much smarter he was than everyone else. He just kept his arms around Weyla’s neck and kicked his boots up and down as he was borne aloft.

“But if they did,” said Weyla, pushing off the ground with enough force to cover over a kilometre with each stride, “they would be much more powerful than before. Their organics would be jacked, right?”

Ubik had already explained how the ‘trees’ worked, how they charged up the organics of anyone who came into range, but that humans were not the intended targets for this upgrade and instead would get stuck in a safety buffer for their own good.

This didn’t apply to those who didn’t have an organic. Which, in terms of human passengers on this giant ship, meant him and Ubik.

When the force pervading the ship attempted to plug into Point-Two’s organic, it found nothing to connect to, and he was able to slip out of the simulation he had been inserted into. He assumed something similar had happened to Ubik, although they hadn’t talked about it. Because Point-Two had assumed whatever Ubik might tell him would be a mixture of truth, lies and random fantasy. But perhaps now was the time to press him for details.

“All of you who have organics are going to find you have a lot more power than before,” explained Ubik, his manner that of a kindly teacher talking to a favourite student. “But the more power you have, the harder it will be to control it. What you’ve experienced so far has been little more than the pre-load. If I’m right, we, humans, have only managed to release a tiny fraction of the full potential of organics.”

Weyla nodded, doing her best to act like the attentive student. The only thing betraying her performance were the occasional looks towards her sister keeping pace with her, who was sending her questions to ask via blink-code.

“That makes sense,” said Weyla. “You really have an amazing insight into this stuff. Very impressive.” Did she really think ingratiating herself was going to work?

“Thank you, madam,” said Ubik with a smile, not even a trace of mockery.

Weyla tripped over her own feet and nearly brought them both to an abrupt and very messy stop. Leyla increased her speed and reached to steady Weyla, but Ubik had already jumped out of Weyla’s arms, bounced once on the ground to give Weyla the freedom to correct her posture, and then leapt back.

“Are you alright?” asked Ubik. Genuine concern. Point-Two had never seen him express even counterfeit concern before.

“I’m fine,” said Weyla, a blush of embarrassment on her cheeks. Because she nearly fell over? “Thank you.”

Leyla sent her sister a questioning look but Weyla dismissed it with a small shake of her head.

Leyla had a small frown on her lips, trying to make sense of the new improved Ubik and also a bemused pout that Point-Two assumed was a concern about her sister’s sudden loss of balance. A Seneca soldier didn’t just lose concentration in the middle of a mission.

Point-Two could see all this play out from over Leyla’s shoulder, his eyes watching each of them in turn, enough of an angle to catch all the sideways glances.

“What’s wrong with him?” Leyla said under her breath.

“Nothing,” said Point-Two. “This is the Ubik way. No one second-guesses the path of chaos.” He turned his head to look at Leyla’s profile. “The more you try to see the pattern, the more it’ll change.”

Leyla nodded, as though something had been made clear to her. It hadn’t. He was making up nonsense. He had no idea what Ubik was up to, but whatever it was, it was probably for a reason, and Point-Two’s only option was to blindly back him up.

He really hated providing backup without knowing what he was backing up, but he didn’t have the luxury of being insane like Ubik, so he had to play along with the doubts remaining in place, just like all the other inmates at the asylum.

Ubik’s arm lit up. An internal glow that momentarily turned his right arm translucent.

“This way, here,” said Ubik, suddenly jumping out of Weyla’s arms and skidding to a stop facing a wall. He put his hand against the wall at around shoulder height and pushed. The wall slid back all the way to the top and several metres wise to reveal another passage.

“You knew this was here,” said Weyla. She sounded impressed. Ubik had already told them he had seen the layout of the ship through the trees, but now he was proving it to be true.

The light on his arm flickered and then died out.

“Are you sure you can trust that thing?” asked Point-Two. It wasn’t a serious query, more of a reflex to the anxiety he felt every time he was reminded there was an alien parasite inside Ubikf.

“Yes, we’re perfectly safe. I wouldn’t put any of you in danger.” He looked at Weyla. “I’ll protect you.”

Weyla blanched a little, not knowing how to take the proclamation.

“What if it’s controlling you?” said Point-Two. “Without you knowing.”

“You’d still be able to tell,” said Ubik. “I’d be acting all weird and different.”

“You are acting all weird and different,” Point-Two pointed out.

“Me? No, this is just me being chill. I’ve got this whole place under my thumb. Nothing can stop us. Even if the Fourth tried to interfere, he couldn’t. He doesn’t have the strength or the access.”

“What if he uses the others to attack us?” said Point-Two.

“The Fourth and organics don’t mix,” said Ubik, supremely confident. He turned back to Weyla. “Do you think I’m acting weird?”

“No,” said Weyla, shaking her head a little too vigorously. “Not at all. Do you know where they keep their Antecessor weapons?”

“Yes, I do actually. It was clearly marked on the map I saw back at the tree. We should pass the armoury on the way.” He tapped the wall just inside the passage and a strip of light along the floor on either side of the doorway came on in sections, one after the other, showing the path ahead. “Shall we?”

“One minute,” said Leyla. “I just want to do a quick check.” She vanished in a blur. Weyla took a moment to check the lighting, trying to understand how it worked.

“What are you doing?” whispered Point-Two.

“What do you mean?” Ubik gave Point-Two a confused look.

“Why are you messing with her? She has a gun. And muscles.” He shifted his gaze towards Weyla.

Ubik shook his head. “You’ve got it all wrong. Think of it as therapy.”

“That’s great,” said Point-Two. “I’m glad you’ve finally accepted that you need help, but—”

“Not therapy for me.” He patted Point-Two on the shoulder. “I’ve never fixed anyone’s brain before. It’s exciting.” His eyes turned round for a moment before he stepped into the new passage as Leyla returned.

“Completely empty for the next few clicks,” said Leyla. “It’s like a ghost ship.”

“Ghosts,” said Ubik. “Yes, I suppose there must be.”

They continued as before, until several hours later when they came to a large set of double doors that loomed over them. They were ornate and imposing, and projected an air of grandeur which hadn’t been in the rest of the ship that they’d seen so far.

There was a white tree on either side, like guardians.

They stopped some distance from the doors, both to take in the sheer scale of it, and also so that the two women didn’t get caught by the trees again. Even from a distance, they could feel the power.

The two women already looked buzzed with the influx of power.

“Through there will be the start of the ship-proper,” said Ubik.

“What was all that we just walked through?” asked Point-Two.

“Storage,” said Ubik. “Some venting shafts, engine works.”

“We came in through the ventilation?” asked Leyla.

“Yes,” said Ubik, like it should have been obvious to everyone.

Point-Two didn’t doubt it, but there was something odd about all of this he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

“How do we open it?” asked Weyla.

“You,” said Ubik.

“Me?”

“Yes. If you don’t mind. It requires someone with strength augmentation to open it.”

“I just push it open with my bare hands?” said Weyla.

“No,” said Ubik. “You aren’t nearly strong enough, and anyway you don’t need to use physical strength. That’s what the trees are for.”

“The trees will boost her strength?” said Point-Two.

“Right,” said Ubik. “To make sure whoever wants to open it has their full power available. Top-up trees.”

“But how does that help us?” said Point-Two. “You said humans can only get a small boost, and that’s if they don’t get stuck in a simulation.”

The two women also waited to hear the explanation.

“Normally, yes,” said Ubik. “But this is the perfect opportunity for us to push the boundaries of the human experience.”

“When you say ‘us’,” said Leyla. “You mean Weyla?”

“That’s right. She has the most potential here — no offence — and I think she can make a breakthrough to a much higher level than anything that’s been seen before.”

“And if it goes wrong?” asked Leyla. “What will happen to her?”

“Death is certainly a possibility,” said Ubik. “I’m not going to lie, it’s a risk. But… with me here to guide her, I’m willing to bet she can do it.”

“What are you betting?” asked Leyla. “It’s her life on the line.”

“Naturally I also will bet my life,” said Ubik. “If I’m with her in there and she dies, then so do I.”

“In where?” asked Leyla.

“Ubik can access your simulation,” said Point-Two. “While you’re in there.”

For some reason, Ubik was violently shaking his head at Point-Two.

Weyla’s face changed. It went red, and then something darker. “You can see inside my simulation?”

“There’s nothing to worry about,” said Ubik, stepping back and holding his hands up defensively. “Nothing to be embarrassed about.”

Weyla didn’t look worried, or embarrassed. She looked furious.

“You saw. That’s why you’ve been like this.” She started to speak with her jaw clenched tightly and the words coming out like bullets. “What happens inside a simulated reality created by alien technology isn’t something I can control.” She was moving towards him. Slowly, with heavy footsteps.

“Of course,” said Ubik. “It isn’t important what the simulation is, only that it keeps you occupied while the trees do their work. You can’t fight it and you can’t give into it. You have to control it. Like a lucid dream.”

Weyla stopped bearing down on him. “What did you see? Did you see me fight or submit?”

“Fight, of course,” said Ubik. “But with me there, the real me, you can take control and make things the way you want them to be. That’s how you allow the power to infuse your organic.”

A thousand different thoughts seemed to pass through Weyla’s mind.

Weyla controlled her fury, as expected of a trained soldier (although Point-Two wasn’t sure she’d last long if Ubik mounted a full-out assault) and turned her attention to her sister.

“I don’t know,” said Leyla without a question having been asked.

“I want to try,” said Weyla.

Leyla nodded.

It only took a split second for them to have what appeared to be a short discussion, but as someone who was close to his own sister, Point-Two could tell there was a lifetime of shared experience behind that simple exchange.

Weyla looked back at Ubik. “I will kill you if this is a trick.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if you killed me even if it weren’t,” said Ubik, “madam.”

Weyla’s eyebrow twitched but her expression remained impassive. “What do I do?”

“Go sit in between the two trees,” said Ubik. “And don’t resist when I enter you.”

“When you do what?”

Ubik smiled. “Don’t worry, it won’t be physical. I’ll be entering your mind.”

It sounded like the better of the two options, but Point-Two wasn’t so sure.

Weyla gave her sister one final look and then started walking towards the door, equidistant from the two trees.

“That’s far enough,” called out Ubik. “Sit there.”

Weyla sat down in a lotus position with her back to them. Only her shoulders moved as she started to control her breathing.

“Okay, brace yourself,” said Ubik, and then he ran up behind Weyla at full speed, placed his hands on her back and slid the next few metres, driving her forward from behind.

As they got closer, both trees began to glow brightly.

Weyla stiffened, her head jerking back and then froze in place.

Ubik threw his arms around her from behind and sat down, embracing her.

Point-Two and Leyla watched, not daring to say anything, both wondering if this was just an Ubik ploy to wind them up. Point-Two didn’t think it was likely, but only in the way 49% wasn’t as likely as 51%.

Then the trees flashed an intense silver brilliance. That silver brilliance only lasted for an instant before suddenly exploding, leaves of light scattering into the air. The leaves floated down over the couple sitting on the floor.

Right above Weyla and Ubik, a luminous silver light expanded swiftly before slowing down, spreading and twisting. As it spread out, it took the form of hundreds of strange shapes which were different in form but similar in size.

They were rows of strangely shaped symbols and characters.

Point-two stared at those strange characters, unable to look away.

The characters moved towards the door and merged with it.

The doors swung open silently. A strange sensation swept over Point-Two. He lifted his head abruptly and his line of sight froze for a long time.

Through the door was what looked very much like a gigantic bone. Several metres long, pitch black in colour, and exuding a strange aura. He had never seen anything like it in his life, but somehow Point-Two knew he was looking at the bone of an Antecessor.