Lawrence Watt-Evans: Realms of Light

I had never particularly wanted to visitthem, but the idea wasn’t unpleasant, either.

“One hundred million,” I said. “In additionto the five million you already owe me.”

“Yes.”

“You’ll provide transportation wherever Iwant to go?”

“That was not part of the original offer, butI think I can throw it in, so long as you stay within human-settledspace.”

“Achernar? Fomalhaut? Eridania?”

“Wherever you please. Once there, you will beon your own.”

“I’ll want some time to choose.”

“And I need time to restore this place tonormal operation,” he said. “We will need to analyze every singlesystem before allowing it back online, to make sure Shinichiro’sinfluence has been removed.”

“Ten days, perhaps? That will give me time tosay my goodbyes and make sure Dad is settled in.”

“That sounds fair.”

I looked up at the stars again, at thosespots of light in the sky that were suns, with worlds circlingthem, and I wondered whether this was real. One hundred millioncredits-had I somehow wound up in a dreamtank without knowing it?Was I an upload being fed an elaborate fantasy? My father had saidI was living a life like one he might see in his induceddreams- was it all unreal?

Did it matter? If the images I saw came fromlight reaching my eyes, or projections onto my retinas, or directstimulation of my brain, did it matter? Did it make any differencewhether I was thinking with electrochemical reactions in a lump oforganic tissue, or with microcurrents through silicon and opticalfiber? I saw what I saw, and thought what I thought, and if itwasn’t real it was so perfect an imitation that it might as wellbe.

I had already left one world behind. Andreally, I didn’t even like Prometheus.

“You have a deal, Mis’ Nakada,” I said.

I invited Dad and Sebastian to join me. I didn’ttell them the terms of my agreement with the old man, only that Iwas leaving the system.

Dad didn’t even consider it. He was eager toget back in the tank. At least this time he didn’t just walk outone day and not come back. We said our goodbyes properly. I didn’texpect ever to see him alive again, even if I returned toPrometheus someday. After so long in the tank he was an older manat sixty-eight than Yoshio Nakada was at two hundred and forty.Besides, he intended to dream away whatever time he had left.

Sebastian gave it maybe ten minutes’ thought,then shook his head. “This planet is strange enough,” he said. “Anentire new system would be too much.”

I didn’t argue. We weren’t really that close.“I’ll try to stay in touch better than Ali has,” I said.

“I’d like that, Carlie.” And that was that;no more family. Wherever I went, I was going to be on my own.

I went back to Alderstadt and cleared out myoffice there, wrapping up a few bits of code I’d left dangling.That’s what I was doing when the money started to arrive.

The old man hadn’t sent it all in one bigsuspicious mass; instead there was a steady stream of largepayments from various parts of the Nakada business empire. Ireceived winnings from the New York, fees from Nakada familyaccounts, unexplained settlements from three different insurancecompanies and half a dozen lawyers.

I’m sure anyone who tried would be able totrace all that money; this was just to make it a bit lessobvious.

When everything in Alderstadt was smooth Ibuzzed back to American City and paid the Nakadas a visit.

They had lights and heat and a few basicservices, but most of the household systems were still offline,forcing them to rough it. About half the family had gone travelinguntil the “repairs” were complete.

Kumiko was not one of them. I had theimpression this wasn’t by choice.

Grandfather Nakada invited me to hisstill-cloudless office for a chat, and I went. We said a few politethings about the weather and the work on the compound.

“You could fix everything by throwing oneswitch, couldn’t you?” I asked him.

“More or less,” he said.

“What are you going to do about your otherseven dead relatives?”

He sighed. “I will be restoring them, but inrestricted facilities. I do not think it wise to let them roamfreely through the net until I have interviewed themcarefully.”

“Are you going to edit them?”

“Probably not. Editing an uploaded human mindis very difficult,” he said. “More difficult than editing memoriesin an actual human.”

“I’m sure you speak from experience.”

“Of course. Should you encounter Minish Singhbefore you leave, I’m afraid he won’t recognize you; he remembersnothing at all from when he was called to investigate an intruderamong the dreamtanks until he found himself in an employment officehere in American City.”

“I trust you compensated him generously.”

“Of course. And it was voluntary.”

“And Sebastian?”

“We used a much lighter hand with him, Iassure you.”

I nodded.

Just before the silence could become awkward,he asked, “Have you chosen your destination?”

“Yes,” I said.

He waited for me to say more, and when Ididn’t he said, “May I ask where?”

“Mis’ Nakada,” I said, “I don’t think I wantyou to know where I am. You want me off Prometheus; I want you outof my life. I know you’ll be able to find me if you want to; I hopeyou won’t want to.”

“Fair enough.”

And that was that.

Of course, I bought the ticket for the firstleg with the old man’s credit, so he knew where I was headedinitially. I assume the stealthed floater that watched me board theliner Eridania two days later was his, but maybe Kumiko sentit, or someone who’d noticed the payments I’d piled up, or evenjust IRC, keeping track of their gritlisters. I didn’t worry aboutit; I wasn’t going directly to my final destination. In fact, whileI had chosen where I wanted to go, I might well change my mindbefore I got there. I planned to spend a few thousand hourstraveling, one planet to the next, before I settled down. Afterall, I could afford it, and if I was giving up my home, why settlefor just one new world? I intended to look at a dozen.

I was headed out to the cool and the dark,away from the harsh light of Eta Cassiopeia A, away from everythingI knew, and even though it hadn’t been my choice, I was lookingforward to it. I was looking forward to building a new life formyself, somewhere out there-a better one, out of the shadow of mypast.

I was hoping it would be a life with friends,with family; I’d have money, so I wouldn’t be struggling to surviveby digging up other people’s unhappy secrets, and maybe that meantI could dig up a little happiness for myself. I could spare sometime to make friends; I’d always been a loner, but it hadn’t alwaysbeen by choice, and I thought it might be time to stop. I wanted toget to know people who didn’t have secrets.

My father had his dreams, and I had mine. Hiswere clean and bright, with happy endings guaranteed; mine werevague and uncertain, with no promises at all. His were fiction;mine were real.

I liked mine better.