“He’s the closest thing you have to a father.”
“He’s nothing to me, Clair. Not like you. You’re my friend. If I am what you say I am, then the only things stopping me from saving you are rules—and they’re not even my rules: they’re VIA’s rules.”
“But the rules are there for a reason, Q. If you break parity, you break d-mat, and if you break d-mat . . .”
Clair stopped, imagining a world without d-mat. No food, no water, no medicines, no waste disposal, no tools. Families would be scattered all across the planet with no means of finding each other again. Some homes didn’t even have doors anymore, so anyone inside would be trapped until the system rebooted. If it did reboot. Who knew if that would be possible or not with one of the two AIs broken?
That it also meant no dupes, no Improvement, and no Ant Wallace pulling the strings seemed a small consolation.
There had to be another way.
A plan came to her then, a plan so terrible she almost dismissed it out of hand. She couldn’t possibly do something so awful. It wasn’t in her. It wasn’t like her.
But . . . You’ve changed.
Clair put her face in her hands, knowing that she could do it if she had to.
And it looked very much as though she did.
“I want you to surrender.”
“What?”
“You have to, Q. We can’t destroy the world for my sake or for Turner’s. I’m not like WHOLE. I believe that d-mat does more good than bad—and maybe even Wallace can be turned around, with you there to argue with him.” Clair tried to find the right words, even though her heart wasn’t in them. “You know that duping people is wrong. You know Improvement has to be stopped. Wallace thinks he’s getting some superhuman slave, but he’s wrong. He’s getting a conscience.”
“Clair, I—”
“Don’t argue, Q. It has to be this way. Go to him now and tell him he’s won.”
“If that’s what you want—”
“It is.”
“I’ll make him get rid of the dupe,” Q said. Her voice was hollow. “As soon as I can, so you can go back home. I won’t let him hurt you.”
“I know you will, Q. You’re a good friend.”
There was a very long pause.
“I am?”
“Always and forever.”
“Do you promise?”
Don’t think of it as betraying her. . . .
“I promise.”
78
Q WENT. CLAIR sensed her going and could see the conversation starting with Wallace elsewhere in the station.
She stood up. Her plan required that she remain connected to the station’s operating system, and she didn’t know how long she had until Wallace revoked that access. But she didn’t need long. All she had to do was call up a particular file and start the process rolling.
sssssss-pop
“That was . . . unexpected.”
The voice came from behind her. She turned and was relieved to see only Turner. Her instructions hadn’t been interfered with by Wallace or anyone else. Turner’s pattern had been plucked safely from the cache and brought to her intact. He looked puzzled, and with good reason. No time at all would have passed for him since his kidnap from the One Penn Plaza building. Unfortunately, there was very little time now to explain what had to happen next.
“Your backpack,” she said, hurrying to him. “Give it to me.”
He did as he was told. Someone was pounding at the door, and Q was sending Clair urgent messages.
She stamped the transmitter underfoot, silencing one of the distractions.
“Ray had grenades,” she said, rummaging through the pack. “Tell me you’ve got some left . . . please.”
“Several.” He showed her. There were four of them, apple-sized black spheres with handgrips and a menacing air. “What’s going on, Clair?”
There wasn’t time to explain fully.
“You wanted to take some direct action, didn’t you?” she said. “Well, here’s your chance.”
He paused for a second, meeting and holding her gaze.
Everything he needed to know was in there.
This was for Libby, she told herself, and Q and Turner and the entire world. It was sacrifice, not suicide, but if a little bit of Mallory was in her, making her do it, then that made the justice all the more poetic. With one gesture, she would rid the world of everything she had been fighting.
Turner grinned.
“We made a terrorist of you in the end, huh?”
She didn’t smile.
ssss—
That wasn’t her activating the booth. Someone had noticed and was trying to stop them. They had only seconds left before the process was complete and they were taken elsewhere, put on ice, or erased.
Clair and Turner faced each other, a grenade in each hand.
“On three,” she said. “One. Two . . .”
78 redux
SSSSSSS-POP
Clair cried out at the sudden pain in her sinuses. Tears flooded her eyes, and for a moment she saw little more than a blur. She reached out to steady herself and felt glass walls on either side of her. Windows? No, mirrors. She obviously wasn’t in the office anymore. She had d-matted from a large space into a very small one, hence the pain in her ears. The small space was nothing more than an ordinary booth.
But where was Turner? The last thing she remembered was telling Q, “I promise,” and then calling up Turner’s pattern so they could destroy Wallace’s space station together. He was supposed to be there now, fresh out of the cache. Why wasn’t he, and why wasn’t she on the station anymore? What was going on?
The doors opened, and the air was suddenly full of clamoring alarms and smoke.
She blinked furiously. Slowly her eyes cleared. She stepped out into a scene of utter devastation.
Penn Plaza was covered in smoking rubble. Huge holes gaped in the side of VIA HQ, from which gouts of black smoke belched. Rescue and Repair vehicles swarmed everywhere, on land and by air. Several neighboring buildings were burning also. Everywhere Clair stared, she saw broken glass.
It looked like a war zone.
A small amount of mess, Q had said. No wonder Wallace had been frightened of her.
“Q?” Her infield was empty, even though she appeared to be connected to the Air. That was weird. After the events of the previous hours, she would have expected it to be overflowing. “Q, can you hear me?”
No answer.
Peacekeepers were everywhere, clearing rubble and helping put out fires. One of them looked up, saw her, and hurried over.
“You shouldn’t be here,” he said. “The plaza is off-limits.”
“I, uh, just arrived,” she said, indicating the booth she had emerged from, one of eight in a line.
“You couldn’t have come in this way. We’ve isolated the subgrid.”
There was a rattle of footsteps from across the plaza as more peacekeepers ran to join them. They had their weapons drawn. She felt a stab of alarm at the thought that they might blame her for the attack on VIA HQ. She had brought WHOLE and Q here, after all. The PKs would know exactly who she was.
But then she saw Jesse among them, grinning excitedly, and all her worries were temporarily suspended.
She ran to meet him in the middle of the plaza, and they hugged until the pain in her injured elbow forced her to let go.
Jesse babbled an explanation.
“They said there was a parity violation, and I knew it was you. It had to be you. Your dupe is in custody, although she hasn’t admitted anything, not even when the satellite blew up. We were in space—do you know that? I already told the PKs about Wallace, and they actually seemed to believe me—I guess there’s too much evidence for them to ignore now—and I told them about Dad, too. He wasn’t a dupe, right? We can get him back, as real as he was before. As real as I am now, thanks to d-mat. All we have to do is figure out how.”