Mark Tiedemann - Mirage

"Like a zeolite."

For the second time in their talk, Mikels seemed surprised, although he masked it well. "Yes, that's right. You're familiar with zeolites, Mr. A very?"

"Only slightly. I've seen some work done on positronic matrices with them."

"Indeed. That's very interesting. Where was this?"

"Aurora."

"Now that's surprising. I wouldn't have thought Spacers would have much need for such primitive tech."

"Is it primitive?"

"The idea is."

"Like your imbedded devices?"

This time Mikels' smile did not seem warm, but predatory. He studied Derec for a few seconds, then turned his gaze toward his lab, his left hand playing absently with the cuff of his right sleeve.

"You have an interesting perspective, Mr. A very. Have you ever considered-"

"Mr. Mikels."

Derec started, surprised. An aide stood behind Mikels, leaning forward slightly at the waist, solicitous and apologetic. Mikels frowned at him.

"Sorry to disturb you, sir, but you're needed in Section Four."

"What? Damn." Mikels sighed loudly. "Forgive me, Mr. Avery. I have to tend to something. Kobbs here can finish the tour for you. It has been a pleasure making your acquaintance. Perhaps we can get together another time."

Mikels gripped Derec's hand firmly and shook it twice.

"Thank you for taking the time," Derec said.

Mikels gave him a last cordial smile and stalked off, leaving Kobbs waiting for Derec.

"There really isn't an emergency, is there, Kobbs?" Derec asked. "You just came to rescue him. What did he do, summon you somehow? His cuff?"

Kobbs looked uncomfortable. "If you'd like to follow me, sir, we can continue the tour in-"

"No, thank you, Kobbs. I feel that I've already gotten the tour. If you'd just show me the way out…?" Tathis Kedder lived just north of the Navy District, off the Southeast Corridor in the Garfield District. Derec left the strips near the apartment complex a little before twelve, an hour early for his appointment with Kedder. He had given himself plenty of time.

The complex was a collection of blocks arranged at different levels, heights, and orientations. Walkways, stairs, and balconies threaded throughout the mass like complicated three-dimensional mazes. Derec had once considered taking rooms here. It was an enclave for midlevel professionals like Kedder. He had been unsurprised to discover that Joler Hammis also lived here.

After receiving Hammis's resume, Derec had been unable to get in touch with the man. He had left messages asking Hammis to call him back, let him know if he had found other employment, or just to talk. Ariel's insistence that no one at the Calvin Institute had issued any such directive about "transition errors" made Derec curious about where those orders had come from. Kedder had obviously not questioned them, but Hammis had struck Derec as the sort who might question anything.

He went to Hammis's apartment first. He mounted the steps and went up to the third level of Hammis's block, found the number, and pressed the bell. He waited nearly a minute before pressing it again.

"It's probably available if you want it."

A man stood at the open door of the next apartment, a few meters further down the walkway. He was neatly dressed and carried a small case, large enough for a custom datum. Derec thought: Lawyer.

"Mr. Hammis is no longer living here?"

"Moved out three days ago," the man said, punching a code into his own door. "He complained about the job market, but Joler didn't strike me as the type to stay unemployed for long. He probably found something and swee-" he made a flying gesture to go with the half-whistle "-gone. Check with the housing authority."

The man smiled and walked past Derec to the steps and descended out of sight.

Derec punched the code for the complex housing authority into the scanner beside the door. The small screen came up with a bright pink MAY I HELP YOU? Derec entered the apartment number and pressed ENTER. A menu came up: RESIDENT, AVAILABILITY, OTHER. Derec touched AVAILABILITY.

Derec stared at the door for a time, debating if it would be worth the trouble to break in. He checked his watch-he still had forty minutes till his meeting with Kedder-and pulled out his decrypter.

Within two minutes, the device unlocked the door. Derec did a reflexive inspection of the walkway, then entered Hammis's apartment.

It did not look vacated so much as abandoned. Clothes lay scattered over the floor, a plate with days-old remains set beside a cup with a few centimeters of coffee on a table covered with disks and scraps of paper. The comline contained several calls in the message queue. Even to Derec it was obvious that Hammis had not moved out.

He walked from room to room, stepping quietly and carefully, touching nothing.

The place was disheveled, but it did not quite look ransacked. Derec returned to the living room and examined the scattered paper on the table. He recognized algorithms, a few scribbled notes on pathways-could be positronic, could be N-and a pair of pamphlets half-buried under the disks. He eased one out and opened it.

Derec felt his scalp tingle coldly as he read.

The ancient and honorable struggle to free Humankind from its own delusions and the chains such delusions become has never been more difficult and demanding as it is today. Now the battle must be fought with information systems and the very tools we have created to aid us in overcoming nature itself. To this end, OSMA has dedicated itself to the cause of resisting wherever possible, and by whatever means seem most appropriate, the subjugation of humans by machines, systems, or the seductive and pernicious ideologies such seeming-innocuous constructs require to come into existence in the first place.

Derec dropped the pamphlet back on the table and looked around the room for any other sign of Managins. After a few minutes, he picked the paper up again, folded it, and slipped it into his pocket.

He checked that no one was on the walkway when he left, then headed quickly to the other side of the complex, to his appointment with Kedder. The two had worked together. Maybe Kedder knew something about Hammis. Perhaps he suspected Hammis of being the method by which the Managins had gotten into Union Station with weapons. In any case, Derec felt relieved to be out of Hammis's apartment. He made himself walk at a normal pace, conscious of his quick, adrenalized strides.

Calm down, he told himself, it could mean anything. Millions of people probably have these pamphlets, it doesn't mean they're all Managins.

But what did it really take to be one? Perhaps most people were not officially members of OSMA, but certainly most of people on Earth sympathized with them-at least where it concerned robotics.

He was still ten minutes early when he knocked on Kedder's door. The scanner came on.

"Yes?"

"Derec Avery, Mr. Kedder."

"Oh. Um, yes. One moment." The door slid aside and Kedder blinked at him. He was barefoot and looked as though he were still waking up. He smiled sheepishly at Derec, then stood to one side.

"Please."

Derec stepped into the apartment. It was much neater than Hammis's.

"Your coworker seems to have moved out, Mr. Kedder," Derec said. "He lost his job, I understand." Derec turned.

Hammis stood by the door, looking frightened and apologetic. Beside him were two men, dressed in black, hoods covering their heads.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Avery," Kedder said.

Derec bolted for the back of the apartment and the rear exit.

Something caught his shins just through the first doorway and he slammed heavily onto the floor. Before he could stand, bodies crushed him. He struggled until something cool touched his neck and numbness spread throughout his body.