and pain, I command you to be gone. I speak your names and command you. Trouble me no more. Leave me and return to trouble your source. I command this illusion be done. One one zero zero one be done zero zero be done zero one one be done!" The surface of space seemed to shimmer like the heat of a summer road and then break into endless threads and strings in a massive tangle that began to break up itself. Babel heard someone speak as if from very far away. "The datastream's been disrupted!" the woman's voice said. "The system is crashing." A cool shower of static poured over Babel's sensorium, washing away the pain and the blood, leaving only a slight aching and fatigue behind. His vision cleared and he was still strapped into the same chair, but the bright light was gone and he could see the plain gray walls of the room. An Hispanic woman gently pulled the plug from the jack behind Babel's ear while looking askance from him to the snowy display screens as if she didn't believe her own eyes. A gentle beat filled the air, and Babel turned his head to see a man slowly clapping, like mocking applause, and he knew it was the shadow man from his vision. "Bravo," the man said, "well done." He was not so frightening in the light as he had been in the vision. Babel estimated he was a bit above average height, but he had an imposing presence his simulacrum lacked. He wore a corporate suit in a popular style, the dark motif broken only by touches of color in his tie and the handkerchief folded in his breast pocket as dictated by corporate fashion. His dark hair was short and touched with a bit of silver. His features were smooth, refined, and chiseled, accented by his neatly trimmed mustache. Babel didn't think he could be called a handsome man-the nose was a bit too hawkish and the chin a touch too pronounced-but the intensity of his gaze and his bearing made it clear that this was a powerful man who was used to being listened to and obeyed. "You have provided an excellent demonstration of the legendary abilities you-were sent to discover," the man said. "Too bad our instruments may not have lived to tell about it. Doctor?" The woman near Babel's head looked up from where she was wrestling with one of the display consoles. "The system is totally trashed," she said with a note of disbelief in her voice. "Not just the simsense routines, but all of the diagnostics as well. Some kind of progressive virus." "Very impressive," the man said, never taking his eyes off Babel. "So the stories are true. The otaku have the ability to deck without a deck, controlling computers with nothing more than the power of their minds. I can see why you are considered a valuable prize, Babel. Your gifts could make some of the hottest ice-cutting technology available look like an antiquated tortoise system in comparison." Babel raised his head from the chair as best he could to look the man in the face. The man looked familiar to him somehow, but Babel couldn't retrieve the memory from the whirling flood of images in his mind. Mama was right, his name was Michael, and he knew this man. "Who are you? What do you want from me?" "You've already figured out most of it for yourself. I want the information Renraku sent you to find, the secret of your amazing abilities. I also want details on who you took your orders from in Renraku and anything else you know about the company and its operations. In short, I want everything." "And if I refuse, what? You'll drug me again? Try to torture me again?" The man's face darkened and he suddenly sprang forward, like a stalking cat on a cornered mouse. The Hispanic woman gasped and stepped back as the man grabbed the front of Babel's thin shirt and held his face so close Babel could feel the heat of his breath. "I will, if you force me to," he said in a low voice. "Make no mistake, boy, you have something I need and I will get it from you however I can. You've proven that simulated interrogation scenarios won't work on you, but there are other means, real and very painful means, I can use to extract information. By the time I'm done with you,
you'll be begging to tell me anything I want to know. I've already proven that pain can be an excellent stimulus to the memory, haven't I… Michael?" The sound of his other name made Babel jump a bit. "Oh yes, Mama sold me your name. A pity she didn't share the rest of it. There are a lot of Michaels working for Renraku, but we're working on a comparison." The man slowly released Babel's shirt and rose up to his full height, adjusting the sleeves and front of his suit jacket. "Believe it or not, I have no reason to hurt you unless you force me to. Just tell me what I want to know, and I'll let you go. You don't have to make this any harder on yourself." He held his gaze on Babel for a long moment, dark eyes on pale violet, before Babel finally spoke. "Lanier," he said slowly. "Miles Lanier. I know you. You're on the Renraku board. I saw your image many times on the corporate news channel. You're playing a very dangerous game, Mr. Lanier." Lanier's jaw dropped for only an instant before composure covered his face like a cold mask. Knowing someone's name gives you power over them, Babel thought. Let's see if that's true. He only hoped he could find some way to get back to Renraku. He had to complete his mission. If Lanier was working for somebody else, as Babel suspected, then he had to make sure what he had for Renraku didn't fall into the wrong hands. Lanier looked down at Babel for a few moments, then turned to the doctor hovering nearby. Babel never found out what Lanier was planning to do next because the lights in the room suddenly shifted to red. Then an alarm sounded and all hell broke loose.