David Edelman - Infoquake

Soon, Natch had muscled the panic into a temporary chokehold, and his face showed nothing but the normal intensity, the normal restlessness, the normal insanity. "I don't think we need to worry too much about the black code for the moment," he said. "Len Borda's people are sniffing around looking for the ambushers. I think his show of force this afternoon scared them off. If these people in the black robes wanted me dead-or wanted you all dead-it would have happened by now.

"But if you're looking for a way out ..."

Without warning, the wolf inside took over and Natch burst into that predatory grin. The grin of the savage beast, the grin that put fear inside his friends and enemies alike.

"If you want a way out, I'll give you one. You all have twenty-four hours to liquefy your shares and cash out your contracts at no penalty. Anyone who doesn't have the stomach for this, anyone who doesn't want to keep looking over their shoulder wondering where the next surprise is coming from, now's your chance to get out."

Natch took the tube out to Cisco again to see the redwoods. He sat for hours mesmerized by their beauty, until they merged together in his mind, until all he could see were different aspects of one universal Tree.

Of course, the challenges had just begun. They had always just begun. Natch had connived and bargained and bluffed his way through the bio/logics game, only to find himself playing in a much more complex game. The stakes were higher here. You could lose your business. You could lose your possessions. You could lose your life, and the lives of those around you.

But had anything really changed? He remembered being five years old and feeling the oppressive weight of that bureau pressing down upon him. He remembered a very real fear that the blocks he had used to prop it up would slip away and leave him dead on the floor.

He stopped in Omaha on the way home.

"I think she's going to quit," Natch said to Serr Vigal, sitting on a velvet chaise in the neural programmer's study.

Vigal was in his kitchen, preparing tea the traditional way, by steeping fragrant leaves in near-boiling water. Natch found it a peculiar time-wasting habit. But then again, he had trekked across the continent enough times for a glimpse at the redwoods to look past a petty vice like caffeine. The older man carefully drew the antique china cup and saucer to his lips, blew softly, and took a tentative sip. Relaxation immediately rippled across his face. "Which one?" he said. "Merri or Jara? "

"Jara, of course. Mark my words, she'll be taking orders from that peon Lucas Sentinel before the end of the week. As for Merri-I think she'll stay aboard."

"Are you certain?"

"I know what you're afraid of, Vigal. You're thinking that sooner or later, Magan Kai Lee is going to get to her and start playing the morality card. Would the Bodhisattva of Creed Objective want you to stand up for a man like Natch? He hasn't been asking you to lie and violate your vows, has he? But I think she's stronger than she looks. Merri won't turn on us."

The neural programmer came into the study and took a seat across from his protege. Natch watched his mentor squint at something out the window. He knew from long experience that Vigal wasn't preoccupied with the view of downtown Omaha two hours before sun-up; he was preparing to make an emotional statement. "So who do you think was responsible for the black code, Natch?" he asked finally. "The Patels?"

"Petrucio says he doesn't know about any black code," replied Natch. "And even though I've never trusted him before, there's something different about him lately. He really did pledge to Creed Objective. He was telling the truth about that much at least. Maybe Frederic ordered the black code attack-although if it was Frederic, he did it behind Petrucio's back."

"So if not the Patels, who then? One of your other competitors?"

"Like who? Bolliwar Tuban, or the Serlys, or Billy Sterno? They don't have that kind of imagination. Pierre Loget has the expertise to put together a piece of black code that powerful, but it would never occur to him. And Lucas Sentinel is afraid of his own shadow. The Meme Cooperative scares him silly, let alone the Council."

"What about your old hivemate? Have you considered whether he might have been involved?"

"Krone." The word came out like a sneer. "Well, he certainly has the motive. And he has all those Creed Thassel resources at his disposal. But I stood in the same room with him for an hour, Vigal, and I came out in one piece. If Brone wanted me dead, Len Borda wouldn't have scared him off-he would've pulled the trigger and gotten his revenge on me regardless."

"Gorda then."

Natch rose impatiently from the chaise and began to tread around the room, doing his best to avoid the Oriental knickknacks stacked in every corner. "That's my worst fear. Hasn't everything turned out his way? After sixteen years of failed negotiations with Margaret, he's finally gotten his foot in the door. But if shooting me full of black code was Borda's way of getting me under his thumb, he went to some pretty extraordinary lengths to pull off the bluff. If Borda knew I wasn't in any danger, why did he order a legion of Council troops to swarm all over the Surina compound and make all those threats? It just doesn't make sense."

"Perhaps his henchman Lee ordered the attack without Borda's knowledge."

"Maybe. Magan Kai Lee is a weasel. Who knows what that man is capable of."

Vigal caressed his goatee thoughtfully. Natch could see a grand topic of conversation sequestered behind that furrowed brow, waiting for the right moment to spring. "I know this might sound absurd," said the neural programmer, "but have you considered the possibility that Margaret Surina was behind this?"

Natch halted mid-pace and gave Vigal a look as if the caffeine had addled his brain. "Margaret? Why? She brought me into this whole mess in the first place."

"I don't know." The neural programmer finished his tea down to the dregs and set the empty cup on a side table. "I really can't think of a motive. But she certainly has the ability to create that kind of black code-and plenty of people at her disposal to marshal a strike team. And let us not forget that you've been conducting all these fiefcorp meetings at the Enterprise Facility. She could very easily have put you under surveillance."

Natch shook his head. "Margaret can't be too happy about my making a deal with Len Borda so quickly, but I'm not sure she even knows about it yet." Brone's words echoed in his mind: Certainly you must know by now that Margaret isn't dealing in good faith with you. What happens when Margaret Surina grows tired of you, as she surely will? Natch thought back to that conversation and barely stopped himself from kicking over Vigal's ceramic tea service in anger. "I wonder what Margaret's going to do. I can't believe she's just going to sit up in that tower and forget about MultiReal."

"Yet, that appears to be what she is doing."

The two remained silent for a few minutes, lost in thought. Natch moved to the window to watch the pre-dawn lights from Omaha's gambling quarter. Behind him, he could hear the neural programmer delicately crack his knuckles in preparation for a strenuous lecture.

"Natch, do you remember what that capitalman once told you about the natural wants of the universe?" the neural programmer burst out suddenly.

"Figaro Fi," Natch replied. "Everything that asshole said is permanently stuck in my head. The universe just won't stay still. It wants to move; even its smallest particles want to be in motion."

"Have you ever thought," said Vigal hesitantly, "about whether the universe wants you to succeed?"

The laughter came bubbling out of Natch like a hot spring. "What a silly thing to say! Do you think the Demons of the Aether are out to get me?"