Уильям Гибсон - Agency

“Eunice?” Virgil asked, from behind the wheel, where he’d no doubt been listening too.

“None other,” said Verity.

“Who is she?” asked Manuela.

“That’s gotten more complicated since I just told you it was complicated,” said Verity.

Ash’s sigil appeared. Netherton, having gotten Thomas down for a nap, had just reached the partially closed nursery door. He slipped out, closing it behind him. “Yes?”

“Eunice,” said Ash. “She’s back.”

“Wasn’t she erased?”

“She was, but she’s having a conversation with Verity as we speak.”

“How’s that?”

“They wiped their single iteration, on both the APL servers they were somehow managing to use. Which makes it unlikely they could do another, but we aren’t sure whether they even thought of that. Her laminae spirited a copy of her out, piecemeal, prior to their erasure. She’s been recompiling, since, and that’s only just now completed.”

“Were you expecting this?”

“Not at all, though now we would, knowing this much more about the capabilities of laminar agents.”

“Where did they take her bits, then?”

“Into global distribution. Their system’s based nowhere in particular, with multiple redundancies. The aunties are impressed by its architecture.”

In the kitchen, Netherton opened the fridge. “I’ve been with Conner, in the drone,” he said, taking Rainey’s pomegranate juice to the counter and pouring a glass. “He’d just beaten five men unconscious, or a good facsimile thereof. Verity, and the girl those men had been sent to capture, left in a car, with Virgil and Dixon. Do you know where they were going?” He drank half of the juice.

“To Howell’s penthouse project. We need the drone with her there, to protect her.”

“There’s been scarcely any need for me to operate it.”

“You did, though, initially. And essentially, at the time.”

He drank the rest of the juice. “Where is Conner now? The drone, I mean.”

“Adjacent to Howell’s building.”

Netherton put the glass in the washer and returned the juice to the fridge. “I’ll see how they’re doing,” he said, and went back to the couch. He sat down beside the controller and put it on.

“Where’s the accent from?” asked a young woman with dark red hair, squatting before the drone, against a shadowy blue background.

“Marines,” said Conner.

She was in the lower half of the display. In the upper half, behind the drone, more of that same blue, and a faint light, moving. “Where are we?” Netherton asked.

“A space we assembled at street level,” Ash answered. “You’re in the anteroom of a larger space. We launch from there.”

“Launch what?” Netherton asked.

“You,” said Ash.

“Going flying, Wilf,” said Conner.

Madison’s sigil appeared, before Netherton could respond to this. “Getting a call,” he said to Ash. “Excuse me.” He muted. “Hello?”

“Madison, Wilf. Talk?”

“What is it?”

“The Black Shark,” Madison said, “the performance data. Got it.”

“Got what?”

“One-man Soviet attack helicopter, NATO reporting name Hokum-B. My Finn demanded classified performance data, in exchange for the rest of what he had on your project. Found it for him, about an hour ago. Swap’s all done.”

“Have you told anyone else?”

“Nope.”

About to tell Madison he’d tell Lowbeer himself, it occurred to him that this call was almost certainly already doing exactly that, as they spoke. “Would you mind letting Ash know? Tell her I’ve too much on my hands now to deal with it myself.”

“Will do. Finn gave me a walk-through, before we shook on it. All clearly labeled as project documents, except for one file of helmet-cam footage.”

“Of what?”

“Afghanistan, if the Finn’s right. Thinks he recognizes a mountain range.”

“Mountains?”

“An explosion. Janice doesn’t like it. Thinks it might be the last thing someone saw.”

“Lowbeer can sort it out,” Netherton said. “Get it all straight to Ash. And thank you, Madison. You’ve been a tremendous help. Have to go now.”

“Always a pleasure, Wilf. You take care.”

“What did you say you were launching?” Netherton asked Conner.

“Us,” said Conner. “Haven’t flown for years.”

They’d been parked for a while now, near what Verity assumed was a homeless encampment, though it seemed deserted. Eunice had said she’d check in soon, giving no reason for going.

Now she sat with her eyes closed, the others all having heard her side of the conversation.

“Time to talk?” Joe-Eddy in her earpiece.

“You aren’t texting.”

“Got my goggles upgraded. I’m up at Stets’ with my lawyers, but they’re here for him. I think their whole firm’s here, except for the two newest junior partners, who’re stuck with minding my place.”

“What’s happening?”

“I’m waiting to find out,” he said, “in this oddly placed trailer. Not all of the top-end Valley out there, over a hundred people, but invitations were literally last minute. He has some major faces, though. Shows what he can pull if he invites people over for a look at something really new.”

“What are they doing?”

“Having drinks and trying to guess what this might be about. Front-runner, currently, is that Caitlin’s pregnant.”

“Is she?”

“If she is,” Joe-Eddy said, “and I don’t think so, it’s unrelated. This is Eunice-centric. You’ll be seeing for yourself soon.”

“I will?”

“You’re close by, expected soon. A minute ago I heard Caitlin ask a stylist what they have for you to wear.”

“It’s dressy?” She looked down at the hoodie. At least it was bunched under her blazer, not the other way around. “What’s Caitlin wearing?”

“Futuro-goth workout gear, last I saw her, but she’ll be changing for sure. This is a big deal.”

“Stets told me he didn’t even know what it was going to be.”

“Whatever it is, there’s a budget for illegalities.”

“For—?”

“Crimes. They’re going to be breaking laws tonight. Mostly bylaws, if they can help it, so they’ve figured out which ones and how many they can afford to break. Fines aren’t a problem, so the budget’s about what they can do without going to jail, however briefly. But it looks a lot like finding the weirdest shit you can get away with in one night, in San Francisco, if you’re willing to blow a metric fuck-ton of money to do it.”

Hearing the window power down, beside Virgil, she opened her eyes.

“Carsyn!” exclaimed Manuela, beside her, delighted.

“Sorry,” Verity said to Joe-Eddy, “gotta go.”

“See you up here,” he said, “bye.”

“Girl”—a young woman greeted Manuela, smiling in through the open window, her hair dark red—“time you guys get in there, Virgil,” she said. “They have the extra set of lifters now, for Manuela.”

“What lifters?” Manuela asked. “Where’ve you been?”

“Working for the man here,” the woman said, squeezing Virgil’s shoulder.

“All out,” Virgil said, unfastening his seatbelt. “Voices down, please, and follow me. Bring your belongings. Carsyn’s taking the car.”

Dixon getting out now, as this Carsyn opened the passenger door for Manuela. Now Dixon opened the opposite one for Verity. Making sure she had both her purse and the Muji bag, she got out.

“You’re going?” Manuela, obviously disappointed, asked Carsyn, who was taking Virgil’s place behind the wheel.