Daniel Suarez - Freedom (TM)

Sebeck didn’t know what to say. A couple of years ago he would have called her crazy, but she was right—spirits or bots, it was just semantics. “And what happens if I refuse to proceed?”

“If you stray from your path, the Daemon will compel you to return to it. Of more concern to me is how you could possibly complete your quest while remaining first level.”

“I can’t go up levels?”

“The darknet is arranged like Sobol’s game world. You can only go up levels by completing tasks—or quests. However, the Geas spell prevents you from taking on any other quests until you complete this one. You are stuck at first level until you achieve your goal. And you have quite a goal.” She didn’t appear too optimistic. Riley checked her watch. “We need to get going. You should wake up your factor.”

“Factor?”

She pointed at Price sleeping in the car. “Chunky Monkey.”

“Where are we heading?”

She patted the “Enchanted Mesa Spa & Resort” logo on the side of the van. “You’re with us until you certify with the shamanic interface.”

He glanced back at the car and shrugged. “I’m good to go.”

“You’re leaving your factor behind?”

“He’s a spy planted by Sobol.”

She reached up to manipulate unseen objects in a way that Sebeck had seen Price do many times. A few moments later she shook her head. “I don’t see that he’s reporting to anyone. Although, he has been tasked by Mad Emperor to handle the logistics of your quest. Unlike you, he can quit this task at any time and be replaced.” She lowered her hands. “But neither has he given you high marks for cooperation.”

“Leave him.”

She just looked at Sebeck. “And your things?”

“Replaceable. A few changes of clothing, toiletries.”

“If that’s what you want.”

Riley drove the passenger van south into scrublands, past creosote bushes and the occasional piñon tree. They were headed toward distant mesas of tan rock, mottled by the shadows of clouds. Sebeck was glad that the Thread no longer loomed in front of him. His view was unobstructed for the first time in a long while. The only reminder of his quest was when he looked at Riley and saw the subtle aura glowing above her call-out—she was his current goal.

He focused his attention out the window. A surprising amount of grass grew in the lowlands this time of year. It was beautiful.

Sebeck sensed Riley studying him, but for several minutes they drove in silence. She finally spoke. “I know who you are.”

Sebeck didn’t respond.

“You’re that detective—Sergeant Peter Sebeck—the one who was framed for the Daemon hoax.”

Sebeck nodded.

“They put you to death.”

Sebeck nodded somberly again. “If you believe the news.”

“You’ve lost a great deal. Your career. Your reputation. I don’t imagine you’re here voluntarily.”

“No.”

“Did you know Matthew Sobol? Is that why he gave you this quest?”

“Sobol was my primary suspect in a murder case. From the point my name entered the news, I was in the Daemon’s sights. Sobol effectively framed me with a computer program.”

“How did you survive your execution?”

Sebeck shrugged. “Ask Price. He was the one who revived me at the funeral home.”

“You mean Chunky Monkey, the operative back at the travel center?”

Sebeck just gave her a look. “His name is Laney Price. Another misfit the Daemon found somewhere.” He cast a glance at Riley. “No offense.”

“None taken.”

Sebeck decided to change the subject. “Is this your tribe’s land?”

“No. Right now we’re passing through the Acoma reservation. I’m a Laguna Indian. We’ll reach Laguna land in about fifteen minutes. The Navajo nation is north of us—much larger—and the Zunis are to the west.”

Sebeck gazed out the window at the mesas and light green grass bowing in a breeze. “This is beautiful country. I always thought of New Mexico as just sand and rocks.”

“The Spanish word for lake is laguna . That’s how our tribe got its name. Access to water is what attracted Europeans.” She pointed into the distance and a line of tan rock on the horizon. “The Acoma pueblo up on that mesa was first settled in eleven hundred A.D. It’s the oldest continuously occupied community in North America.”

Sebeck was genuinely surprised. “So they didn’t fall along with the Anasazi civilization?”

“You have an interest in Anasazi history?”

“It came up recently in conversation.”

“Well, Acoma rose partly from the collapse of Chacoan society. Some of the survivors resettled here.

“Acoma was attacked in the late fifteen-hundreds by the Spanish. They used cannons and attack dogs to force their way up the stone stairway onto the mesa. They killed all but two hundred and fifty of the twenty-five hundred inhabitants and cut one foot off every male survivor. The children were given to Catholic missionaries, but most of them wound up being sold into slavery. The Spanish then used the pueblo as a base to conquer the rest of the region.”

Sebeck didn’t know what to say.

“That was two centuries before the British colonies in the East declared their independence. We’ve been here a long time.”

“And now you’re a darknet faction leader. Are you some sort of militant?”

She laughed. “You mean, a violent fringe group? No, Sergeant. We’re builders.” A look came over her, and she tapped again at invisible objects on a hidden layer of D-Space. “In fact, you’ll see some of our work on the way.” She was about to say something, but then apparently thought better of it.

“What?”

“If you’re wondering whether I bear a grudge against the Spanish—or the U.S. government for that matter—I don’t. Nursing anger against people long dead is a waste of one’s life. Today if someone wrongs us, we do what anyone else does: we send our lawyers after them.” Riley fixed her gaze on Sebeck. “The Laguna value education highly. It is our rod and staff, as my father used to say.”

“How did a woman your age get involved in the darknet?”

“A woman my age ?” She laughed. “Don’t sugarcoat it, Sergeant.”

“I’m just wondering how you—”

“Sobol’s online fantasy game— The Gate .”

He just looked at her.

“Okay, what’s a fifty-two-year-old woman doing playing online games? I found them interesting. The idea of putting on a body like clothing—there was something about it that seemed intriguing. That we might surpass our physical differences and deal with one another as human beings. With no preconceived notions about gender or race.”

“And that’s where the Daemon found you.”

“I did the finding, but it wasn’t the Daemon I found. It was the darknet. The encrypted wireless network Sobol created. Only later did I discover how much blood Sobol shed establishing this network. And yet, I can’t help but wonder, just as evil sometimes arises from good intentions, if good can’t sometimes grow from evil. It’s a distasteful notion, but human history makes me wonder.”

Sebeck gritted his teeth. “I may be on this quest, but that doesn’t mean I agree with Sobol. I accepted it because I had no choice, and I was concerned that unless I did so, he would enslave humanity. Matthew Sobol killed friends of mine . Police and federal officers—people with families.”

She held up a hand. “I’m not defending Sobol, Sergeant. I’m saying that Sobol was willing to be our villain to force necessary change. So that we didn’t have to.”

“Megalomaniacs always justify their actions by saying how necessary it is.”

She gave him a sideways look. After a moment she said, “Do you feel any guilt for what your ancestors did to the Indians?”