Tony Ballantyne - CAPACITY

He pressed his console and vanished. Helen jerked backwards in surprise, banging into the mirrored wall behind her.

The black-and-white woman turned to look at Helen.

“I’m Judy,” she said. “I don’t think we’ve met yet, Helen.”

Helen gazed at the woman for a moment, her lips moving silently. She suddenly understood.

“I’m a personality construct, aren’t I? This isn’t the real me any more.”

Judy’s black lips formed into a smile.

“You’re not as sentimental as your personality profile makes out, are you? No matter how many readings Social Care pass on to me, they never give the same feel as actually meeting a person. Each time I’ve met you, you’ve faced up to reality straight away.”

Helen bit her lip thoughtfully. “Each time we’ve met?” she said. “There is more than one copy of me?”

“Oh yes, you’re very popular in this little chamber of horrors.”

Judy’s console made a shushing noise, and Judy tilted her head a little, clearly listening to something.

Helen opened her mouth, and Judy raised a hand to silence her. Helen looked around the mirrored chambers, at all the black-and-white women who raised their hands to the young blond women, images receding into infinity. Helen had a sudden sense that she was not looking at reflections; that, instead, each of the pairs of figures that she saw was another Helen and Judy, trapped in another computer simulation. Each one of them awaiting some dreadful fate.

Judy lowered her hand.

“Kevin has shown up on one of the Level Three simulations. I’m going to intercept him. Helen, you will be safe within the stealth cube area for the moment. Don’t wander too far into the arboretum; the simulation only extends for a few hundred meters beyond the limits of this construction.”

“But…” said Helen.

“Read this while I’m gone.” She thrust a thin plastic pamphlet into her hand.

“What…”

It was too late. Judy had vanished. Helen looked down at the pamphlet. Written along the top were the words “Welcome to the Digital World. Welcome to your new life!”

Level Three, Variation A

Helen crouched in the corner of the mirrored room, knees pulled up tight against her chin, arms hugging her shins. She guessed she had been trapped in the room for about six hours now. Long enough to make herself hoarse, shouting for help. Long enough to realize that Social Care weren’t coming. Long enough to realize that she faced the awful prospect of being a victim to those crimes she had thought were only vicarious entertainment on historical shows. Rape. Murder. Torture. She gazed at nothing, not wanting to look into the terrified eyes of the other Helens who shivered around her. The wide eyes, the pinched cheeks, the pale faces all served to amplify her own fear.

“Watcher,” she whispered. “If you are there. If you really exist. Please, please. Help me.”

Then there came the noise of the seals in the door disengaging. Helen whimpered with fear. How much would it hurt?

A thin, unshaven man stepped into the room, his eyes lighting up with excitement as he saw Helen.

“Please,” Helen said. Reflexively she felt for her console, but it was no use; Kevin had taken it away when he had first pushed her into this place.

The man giggled. “Say it again,” he said. “Say please and I might be nice.”

Helen felt something inside herself harden. She pushed herself upright against the wall, gazing at the man’s fingers as she did so. He didn’t look so strong, really. Maybe she could get behind him, hold his blue-stained hands away.

Too late. With a speed that took her by surprise, he lashed out, brushing his fingers against her cheek. She felt her legs give way.

The man stood back and looked down at her thoughtfully.

“Now,” he said. “Where shall we start?”

“How about with a profile readjustment?”

The man jumped at the voice.

A woman stepped into the room. Black hair, black lips, white face. The sight of her terrified the man.

“No,” he croaked. “You don’t understand. This is not what it looks like…”

The woman smiled. “Hello, Helen. Hello, James. My name is Judy. I’m-”

The man’s face crumpled. “How did you know my real name? They told me that my anonymity would be assured.”

Judy rolled her eyes. “James, they are running illegal personality constructs. They are collaborating in the torture and murder of said constructs. I think it may be a fair assumption that they are not the sort of people to be trusted when they tell you that your anonymity is assured.”

The man stared at Judy, trying to understand the full import of what she had just said.

Helen was a lot quicker on the uptake. “You mean this isn’t real? I’m a personality construct?”

“I don’t know about real,” Judy said. “It is true that you are a personality construct. According to your time frame, you were copied by a Marek Mazokiewicz two days ago. You’re being run, illegally and without your consent, so that people like James here can get their rocks off torturing you.”

Helen wasn’t listening. She was still focused on the first part of the sentence. “According to my time frame…” she said slowly. A yawning feeling opened up in her stomach.

Judy shook her head sadly. “According to atomic time, you were copied seventy years ago. You’re just the latest in a long line of Helens. I’m sorry.”

Helen felt a pang inside her. She forced down the welling nausea for the moment.

“Why?” she asked.

“Why were you copied? As I said, so that people like James here could play with you. Torture you. Isn’t that right, James?”

“No,” said James. He began to wring his hands. “I wasn’t going to do anything like that. I just wanted to know…wanted to know…what it would be like…”

Helen felt contempt rising inside her. She dismissed James from the conversation.

“What happens now?” she asked Judy.

Judy tilted her head. “That all depends.”

“On what?”

Judy looked at James. “The people who run this place know that their cover is blown. They’ll want to destroy the evidence. What happens now depends on whether they manage to wipe the processing space in which we reside, or whether my atomic self manages to stop them.”

Helen licked her lips. “Do you think you will?”

Judy smiled and nodded. “I always do. We’ve been dealing with the Private Network for some time now. One of my digital alter egos is hot on the trail of Kevin-one of the Private Network’s leaders-right now. They won’t do anything to harm the simulation while he’s still in here.”

James slumped hopelessly into a corner of the room.

Helen gazed at Judy. “Digital alter egos? You’re going to have to explain that…”

Judy fingered the black sleeve of her kimono.

“There are twelve of us,” she said. “Twelve digital Judys. And then there is our other sister, living out in the atomic world. For the sake of convenience, I’m sometimes called Judy 3.”

“Judy 3?” said Helen.

“You can call me Judy.” She tilted her head, listened to her console, which was set in the form of the black rod threaded through her hair. “Here we are. My sister has just caught up with Kevin…”

Level Three, Variation B

Judy 4 stepped into the isolation room. Kevin was already here, struggling with Helen. Calypso, the woman who had booked the session in the trap, was lying on the floor, feebly trying to get up. Judy paused by the door, letting events run their course. As she watched, Helen slumped to the floor. Kevin noticed Judy and gave her a smile.

“Hello again,” he said. He nodded to Helen on the floor. “She’s very clever,” he said. “She grabbed hold of Calypso’s hands and rubbed the relaxant on me. She couldn’t know that the simulation is programmed to exclude me from the effects.”