Episode 16, “Does It Hurt?”

 

[image error]The squat man with the oiled hair resembled a toad. He smelled of Hongkongtown garbage. When he entered the interrogation chamber, thick fingers nervously plucking at his own shirt, VanClef did not look up. The Intelligence operative instead peered deeper into the scrolling data from the reader-chair. Strapped tightly into the chair was a twelve-year-old girl. Cables ran from a sensor collar around her neck. Her hair was so fair it was almost white.

“Mister VanClef, sir. Begging your pardon, sir, but–”

“Do you you honestly think, Temken,” said VanClef, “that your use of such pleasantries in any way mitigates your failure?”

“Uh, no, sir.”

“Good,” said VanClef. “I would hate to build our relationship on a lie.”  He made an adjustment to the terminal connected to the girl’s collar. An almost subliminal hum filled the room. Secured in the reader-chair, the blonde girl squirmed and frowned. She looked at VanClef, then at the ceiling, then to Temken. Temken looked away.

“I’m feeding you a series of weather data,” said VanClef to the girl.  “I want you to interpolate.  Give me forecasts for six months from now and a year from now. Use only the numbers in the grid supplied.”

The little girl nodded.  VanClef took a step closer.  “Is it…” he started. “I mean… Should you be torturing them?”

VanClef turned to Temken, his hands still on the dials of his terminal.  “Yes, of course,” he said. “That’s precisely what I’m doing.  I’m endangering close to thirty trillion in development funding because I enjoy inflicting pain on children.  Shall I bind her and leave her for the monorail when I’m finished?” He waved black-gloved fingers.  “Honestly, Temken. Leave the thinking to people who possess the necessary equipment for it.”

“Sorry, sir,” said Temken.

“We’re still calibrating the equipment,” VanClef said. Whether he was speaking to Temken or to himself was not obvious.  “It’s maddening. Sometimes we’re able to map their brainwaves. Sometimes we get nothing. Sometimes the machine tells us they’re plotting to take over the world. Sometimes it says they like ice cream.  Maddening.”

“What does it say now?” Temken said.

“It’s another hallucinatory episode,” said VanClef, waving his hand. The sort of meaningless imagery that makes no earthly sense.  According to the machine, she’s picturing a robot spider with cameras for eyes, sitting at the center of a spiderweb, using the strands like telegraph wires to communicate with other robots throughout its spider city. Clearly this has nothing to do with weather interpolation.”

“Telegraph?”

“Shut up, Temken.”

“Does it… hurt?” Temken asked.  The blonde girl had her eyes closed now. Her lips moved, but she made no sound.

“I’m told it requires a great deal of concentration,” said VanClef. “And that it is tiring. But no, she is not being ‘tortured,’ as you put it. Now either keep silent or make your report, damn you.”

“Sir! Yes, sir,” said Temken.  “I’ve been shadowing the Peytons for two weeks now, sir. “I’ve also been trailing the girl through the virts that she frequents.  Games, chathouses, that kind of thing. We were able to establish location and pattern.  The raid went off as planned. We successfully separated them. Our drones were able to drive the father off.”

“And yet you brought me nothing,” said VanClef. “No Annika. No Peyton. Nothing.”

“She disappeared somehow,” said Temken. “Completely off the grid. We’re still not sure how she did it. When she resurfaced she found a way to hack the local nodes. She inserted an animated signal in local displays.”

“Which you followed,” said VanClef.

“Yes, sir,” said Temken. “The signal also drew a third party, a street-level predator. Peyton killed him.”

“The father.”

“Yes,” said Temken. “The father killed him.”

“You were within meters of Annika Peyton,” said VanClef, “and you simply… left.”

“Her father would have killed me, too, sir,” said Temken. “There was nothing I could do.”

VanClef sighed. “Which means now we’ll have to reacquire them. The ability of Ian Peyton to remain hidden in Hongkongtown defies all logic.  The man must be 270 kilos. He stands half a meter taller than any human being. Hell, he’s wider than some people are tall. How do they do it? How do they remain undetected for so long each time?”

“We’re not sure,” said Temken. “My electronics team are working on it. They think maybe one of Peyton’s implants produces an electromagnetic field that interferes with surveillance.”

“He’s biological,” said VanClef. There’s nothing in his specifications that would account for that.”

“I don’t know, sir,” said Temken. “That’s just a theory. I can have a new team on them as soon as we place them. We could stage another raid.”

“No,” said VanClef.  The girl in the reader-chair was sweating profusely. VanClef took a black silk handkerchief from inside his suit jacket and gently dabbed at her forehead. “Focus on the virts. Perhaps you can draw her out voluntarily. Technologically propositioning a minor should be nothing new to you.”

Temken stared at the floor.  “Sir,” he said, “I hardly think–”

“That,” said venClef, “is an understatement.”  He wiped the girl’s forehead again, pressed the handkerchief to his lips, and tucked it away.  “Did you speak to maintenance?”

“They’re working on the problem, sir,” said Temken.

“Good. I need our internal network restored. I can’t have this facility isolated from the rest of the grid.”

“Yes, sir.”

“What about Level G? Is that door still sealed?”

“The hydraulics are frozen,” said Temken. “I’m told it’s going to take at least two more days to drill through the hardened pistons manually.  But Level G houses the auxiliary kitchen. The children should have enough food and water for much longer than that.”

“Tell the work crews I want them putting in mandatory overtime until the problem is solved,” said VanClef.  “The Project cost the taxpayers a small fortune.  It’s ridiculous that I should have my progress hindered by mechanical issues.”

“Yes, sir,” said Temken.  He turned to leave.  As he did, he saw VanClef lean over and kiss the blonde girl’s forehead.

“Temken,” said VanClef. “One more thing.”

“Yes, sir?”

“If you fail again, I’ll kill you.”

“Yes, sir.”