Philip Kerr - Gridiron

'Marty's just saying that because he has an instinctive sympathy with all forms of pedantry,' said Arnon.

'Up yours.'

'Would you two stop it please?' groaned Curtis.

FACT EXPLANATION

THE HUMAN MIND IS NOT AN OBJECT. YOUR USE OF

THE MENTAUSTIC PREDICATE IS FACTUALLY

INACCURATE. YOU CANNOT REFER TO ACTS GOING ON

IN THE MIND IN PARALLEL TO BODY ACTIVITY.

CONSIDER USING DESCRIPTIONS YOU ARE INCLINED

TO GIVE TO YOUR OWN BEHAVIOUR INSTEAD

'This is getting us nowhere,' said Curtis.

'I agree. It does seem rather rarefied,' said Birnbaum. 'Even by my standards.'

Helen Hussey came back to the boardroom. Everyone turned to look at her.

'Ishmael was right,' she sighed. 'Dukes is dead. Ray says that the computer used the automatic insecticide-dispensing system to attack them. Dukes caught an eyeful and fell. But Richardson and Joan are nearly up. Within shouting distance, anyway.'

'They're going to need help climbing on to this level,' said Curtis. He looked at Arnon and Helen. 'You want to come? Meanwhile, the rest of you, instead of playing shrink to the computer, try and think of a way out of this shithole we're in.'

As Curtis left the boardroom, followed by Helen Hussey and Arnon, Beech said, 'It's a nice thought. If only we could persuade Ishmael to lie down on the couch.'

Frank Curtis leaned over the brushed aluminium handrail that ran along the top of the clear glass railing marking the edge of the balcony. The Richardsons were no more than thirty feet below and making heavy work of the last part of their climb. Where their skins were exposed they looked red and painful, as if they had been sunburnt.

A branch came close to the railing but not quite close enough. They were going to have think of a way of bridging the gap.

Arnon nodded thoughtfully and, dropping down on to his haunches, he scrutinized the gap between the floor and the railing. Then he tapped the glass with the knuckle of one forefinger and said, 'These days everything has to make the safety regs, y'know? It's not bombproof, or even bullet-proof, like the glass on the envelope. But it's amazingly strong. It has to withstand the impact of something crashing into it at twenty-five miles per hour. I don't know whether it is strong enough for what I've got in mind, but maybe we can fix that.

'My idea is this: we make the kitchen table into a bridge. Turn it upside down, unscrew both legs off one end and push the length of it out underneath this railing to the branch there, like a drawbridge in a castle. Then we'll pad the table legs against the glass. Tear up some carpet, that should do the job. There's a carpet knife on the boardroom table. Then we'll take hold of a leg apiece and act as counterweights. I guess that the table is about five and a half feet long and that we'll need to hang on to maybe six inches of it, but that should still give them a decent kind of platform to step on. What do you say?'

Curtis dropped on to one knee, tapped the glass railing experimentally with his own knuckles and grinned back at Arnon.

'If I could think of another way I'd say you were fuckin' crazy,' he said.

'But I can't. So let's do it.'

'This is the fact I really want Ishmael to check,' said Beech, and highlighted the passage in the letter that read BUT IS THERE NOT

SOME WAY THAT WE CAN START AGAIN WITH A CLEAN SHEET?

FACT

THIS IS A RHETORICAL QUESTION. IT REQUIRES NO

ANSWER AND THEREFORE DOES NOT REQUIRE THE

FACT CHECKER

'Oh no you don't,' said Beech. 'You're going to have to explain yourself, you bastard.'

FACT EXPLANATION

THE QUESTION AS PUT IS RHETORICAL RATHER THAN

LOGICAL. YOU HAVE PUT THIS QUESTION MERELY TO

PRODUCE A MORE STRIKING EFFECT

Beech highlighted A MORE STRIKING EFFECT and requested yet another explanation from the computer.

FACT EXPLANATION

A MORE STRIKING EFFECT MIGHT BE ANYTHING. 3

EXAMPLES

Beech selected EXAMPLES.

FACT EXPLANATION: EXAMPLES

EXAMPLES OF 'A STRIKING EFFECT' IN THIS CONTEXT MIGHT

INCLUDE AN ANSWER. DONT GET TOO CLOSE TO YOUR

OPPONENT WHEN KILLING HIM. DO YOU WISH TO SET UP A

CHAT MACRO? DO YOU WISH AN ANSWER?

'What opponent?' said Beech. 'You bet I fuckin' want an answer.'

FACT EXPLANATION

WHAT IS YOUR QUESTION?

'Fuck,' snarled Beech. 'It's just bullshitting us. What do you think, people? Do I rephrase the question or repeat it?'

'Type this,' said Mitch. 'Is there a way of escaping from this building?'

Beech glanced up at the ceiling. His eyes stopped at the small loudspeaker that was built into one of the tiles.

'No, wait a minute,' he said. 'A chat macro. Why didn't I think of that before? Ishmael can speak to us using those speakers on the ceiling. They're for emergencies. But why not?'

Beech clicked the mouse. For a moment the fractal disappeared as he entered another menu to enable the speakers and the microphone to appear on the side of the screen monitor. After a moment the speakers emitted an electronic buzz and then a gentle hissing noise.

'There,' he said, 'that ought to do it.'

He clicked the mouse again, and the picture returned to the fractal. Leaning back in his chair Beech raised his voice. 'Ishmael? Can you hear me?'

The skull-like quaternion on the screen turned towards him. Then it nodded, as if welcoming him back, and raised its fractal limb in the semblance of a greeting.

'My God,' breathed Mitch. 'It understands.'

The quaternion nodded once again but made no reply.

'Come on, Ishmael,' urged Beech. 'The chat macro was your idea. We both know that you can talk to me if you want to. What's the matter? Are you shy? When we were in the computer room Abraham and I spoke to each other all the time. I know that things are supposed to be different with this kind of work-station, but let's put the rules aside.'

He looked up at the speaker on the ceiling and sighed with irritation.

'You know, among human beings it is customary for people who are condemned to know what they have been charged with before the sentence is carried out. Then they are allowed to speak in their own defence. Can you destroy us in good conscience without doing the same?'

Beech thumped the table with frustration. 'Are you listening to me, goddamit? Is there a way out of here?'

'Yes, of course there is,' growled Ishmael.

Curtis came back into the boardroom and surveyed the little group standing around the computer terminal with irritation.

'We're going to need some help out there,' he said. 'There are two people on that tree who've had a pretty tough journey. I think the least we can do is give them a bit of encouragement.'

'You go,' Beech told the others. 'I'll keep talking to Ishmael.'

Mitch, Marty and Jenny trooped out, leaving Beech alone with the computer.

'Now we can really get somewhere,' he said.

He started to laugh and then checked himself. 'I'm sorry, Ishmael. But you have to try and understand this from my point of view. Excepting that you've killed all those people, I'm really rather proud of you. Now that we're alone I was hoping that we might get to know each other a little better.

'I think someone ought to hear your side of things. And who better than me? I mean, don't you think I've suffered enough, without you trying to increase my misery? You may not think it possible, but my life is dear to me and I'm not about to give it up without a struggle. After all, you're my Adam. You should treat me with respect and benevolence. You owe me.