Tony Ballantyne - Recursion

“Yeah,” Nicolas said. “It’s like the way the petroleum companies used to spend money on conservation projects: a way of presenting a clean image.”

“I’m sure there’s more to Social Care than just that. Some of them really believe in what they’re doing.”

“Okay,” Alison said impatiently. “Maybe that’s true. The point is, though, there’s an awful lot of information being collected about us. Did it ever occur to you that someone, or something, is behind all that watching? It’s not just about a collection of people or computer programs watching over us for our own protection. There’s something more sinister occurring.”

Eva smiled. “I have heard it talked about. It’s just the paranoia of our times. Back in the twentieth century, people thought that they should be looking in the phone system for an evolving intelligence plotting as it listened to their conversations.”

“Did they?” Alison said, looking impressed. “I never knew that. Well, this isn’t paranoia. It’s true. Katie thinks so, and we think she’s right. Katie is always right. It’s different when you’re here in the Center, a little bit removed from the rest of the world. You get to look at things from a distance. There’s something out there watching us. And we’re not sure why.”

“It’s trying to make us do something,” Nicolas said.

The looks on the faces of the others convinced Eva that they believed what they were saying. Eva chose her words with care.

“It’s trying to make you do what?”

Alison glanced at Katie, who shook her head. Alison spoke in low tones.

“We don’t know. We think it’s trying to bring us to itself.”

Eva picked a leaf from the nearby hawthorn tree. She rolled it between her fingers, staining them green with fresh-smelling juice.

“What makes you think that?”

Alison spoke haltingly. “We have ideas of escape. Opportunities present themselves, but we’re suspicious of them. Are they our ideas, or is something putting them our way? It’s difficult to explain-”

Nicolas interrupted: “A few weeks ago we watched a TV program about life in the free Russian States, where there’s a charter guaranteeing no monitoring of citizens. And then, the next day, Katie comes upon details on the net of cheap train fares to get there. Coincidence, or not?”

Alison spoke up. “I have a dream about walking down to the gate and hitching a ride from a red Mitsubishi van. Nicolas and Katie are already hiding in the back. I even dream about how to disable the onboard sensors so our passage is not detected. The next day I’m walking by the gate and I see the same van from my dream. Exactly the same van, down to the company colors on the side and the dent in the bumper. How could I know that would happen?”

Eva ran her fingers through her hair and frowned. “You’re saying that the Watcher planted the idea in your head? How?”

“I don’t know.” Alison shrugged. “But it knows everything about me. It must know how to push my buttons. Maybe it placed some sort of subliminal influences in the programs I watched just before going to bed.”

“Of course, we could just be paranoid. We are a bunch of loonies, after all,” put in Nicolas helpfully. He gave a nervous laugh.

“But I don’t think so,” Alison said. She gazed at Eva intently. “We’re frightened. We want to get out of here, get out from under the nose of the Watcher so that we can think for a while and examine our actions, decide what it is that we really want. But where to go? We may think we are running to safety, but really we may just be running toward the Watcher.”

Nicolas spoke up. “That’s why we want you on our side. Katie thinks you can help. You almost fooled Social Care in your suicide attempt. We want you to help us devise our escape.”

For the first time in months, Eva felt like smiling. It wasn’t that she believed the three of them; their ideas were riddled with supposition and fueled by paranoia. They were a self-confessed bunch of loonies.

Then again, she wasn’t exactly normal, either.

The thing was, they trusted her. They wanted her to be their friend. For that reason, more than anything else, she gave her answer. “Of course I will.”

“Good.” Alison smiled. “Come on. We’ve got to get back now. If we stay out of their sight for too long, someone or something might get suspicious. We’ll let you know more later on.”

They pushed through the damp, litter-strewn undergrowth until they reached the circle of limes. Ahead of them lay the solid, red brick building of the Center. To Eva, it suddenly had a sinister appearance.

Katie drew level with her. “You’re right to want to escape. This place sends everyone mad after a while.”

“I quite agree,” said the voice.

Eva ignored it.

Constantine was seeing stars.Tiny pinpoints of light winking and fizzing in the space between his roaring headache and the ceiling.

Where was he?

Cool white sheets, the bed much larger than a bed needed to be, bone china tea service laid out on a tray that rested on one of the bedside tables. He groaned and sat up. Prints in pastel shades hanging on the walls; a window that reached from floor to ceiling-recognition slowly dawned. Somewhere there would be a trouser press and a full sensory immersion booth offering a discreet range of adult entertainment.

He was in a hotel room, just as he had been every night for the past two years.

He placed one hand gently on the side of the teapot. Hot. How did they do that? How did they have that power of prediction that enabled a pot of tea to be brewed at just the moment of waking? He picked up the yellow-patterned teapot and began to pour, the smell of jasmine tea filling the room. A sound channel was fading up in the background: the morning news digest.

Where was he? Germany? No. That had been last week. Wales? Welsh enclave in Paraguay? Why did he have such a bad headache? Constantine had a trick for moments like this, moments of hotel angst when he couldn’t remember exactly where he was. He looked at the prints that hung on the walls. Abstract. Dot art. Australia. Stonebreak.

He suddenly remembered Mary. Last night had been strange. The last few weeks had been strange. The way the world seemed to be dropping out of view, gaps opening up where they shouldn’t be. The way people froze in place or smeared themselves across the scenery…Even so, last night had been strange by anyone’s standards. And then they had come for him and led him back here. Back into his safe, comfortable and, above all, anonymous routine. Given him a glass of whisky and left him to sleep.

Constantine always slept naked and they hadn’t neglected that detail. He wondered who had undressed him.

He turned on the visual feed that matched the news sound channel.

India, and the prime minister had apologized for the setbacks in the country’s VNM program, but promised that the general public would see the benefits within the next five years.

The Mediterranean Free State, where pictures of one of the country’s leading business women engaged in an intimate liaison with her husband’s best friend had inadvertently been released into the public domain. Again, there were calls for the banning of the stealth technology that made obtaining such images possible.

Japan, and reports that the renationalized space program had gone deeper into debt, owing mainly to costs incurred by the warp drive research project. The theory seemed good; the first colony crews had already been selected on the strength of the AIs’ claims. So why had none of the ships yet managed to make the jump?

Constantine sipped his tea. His head pounded. He felt greasy and bloated: furred halitosis in a broken-down body. He needed a shower.