Recursion

constantine 5: 2119

They quickly ran up the steps of the concert hall. There was so much to explain and, out in the real world, time was running out.

“There aren’t many real personalities in here,” Mary gasped, her face pink with effort, shiny with perspiration. “It’s a processor-intensive task, keeping a full personality running. There is a limit to how many we can model, so we only use a real one if we have to…”

Her breath came in great heaving rasps; Constantine offered her his arm. Mary may have been a simulation, but she had the poor stamina of an overweight fifty-something woman. He could feel the warmth of her body in the cold of the stairway.

“So who are the real personalities?” asked Constantine.

Mary gulped for air.

“Now? There’s only space for four. So it will be you and the three people they think will be the most persuasive to you. Marion and I are both hoping that we are two of the chosen ones…”

They turned another corner in the stairway to find Marion where they had left her. She was trying to read something on her console, distracting herself from the precariousness of her situation. She rose to her feet as she saw them approach.

“How did it go?” she asked Mary.

“As well as could be expected,” replied Mary. She nodded toward the door into nothingness. “Do we have to go back…out there?” she asked, blinking rapidly.

Marion gave a shrug; Constantine could tell from her expression that she wasn’t feeling as nonchalant as she was trying to appear.

“I don’t know. It all depends on what they’ve decided…”

She took a deep breath, then held her console to her ear.

“What next?” she asked. She tilted her head, listening to the reply.

“Only Constantine goes through,” she whispered. She listened again and a look of relief crossed her face. She gave Mary a great wobbly smile.

“It’s okay, Mary. They’re keeping us in here with him.”

Mary took hold of Marion’s hands and squeezed them tightly. Marion spoke again.

“They’re rearranging space in here, making it as hard as possible for DIANA to detect what is going on.”

She turned to Constantine. “You’re to go through the door. You’ll step straight into your hotel room. Try to get some sleep while you can. I don’t know when you’ll next have the opportunity.”

“Fine by me,” said Constantine. Simulated personality or not, he was tired and he needed to sleep. As he took hold of the doorknob, Marion’s console pinged and she put it back to her ear. She listened for a moment then held up her hand for Constantine to wait.

“From the very top?” she said, her face creased in utter puzzlement.

She listened further, her expression becoming more and more incredulous. When the call was over, she returned her console to her pocket and turned to face Constantine. She looked thoughtful.

“They’ve decided on the fourth personality. They say it’s a token of their goodwill.”

“Really?” He looked at her closer. “Is that all? There’s something else, isn’t there?”

“Uh…” Marion looked torn for a moment. Then she turned and hurried down the stairs, Mary close behind her, the clatter of their footsteps on the stone floor retreating into the distance. Constantine watched them go, wondering, then he pushed the door open and stepped back into his hotel room. There was someone sitting on the edge of his bed. The door swung shut and instantly became an open French window leading out onto the balcony. Constantine looked at the worried-looking figure on his bed, her arms wrapped around herself, gazing at Constantine through dark brown eyes that were wide with fear.

“Hello, Jay,” he said.

Constantine’s marriage contract was for an indefinite period. The figures in the small print predicted that they would remain faithful to each other with a confidence of six sigmas. It was what they had both wanted. That was why he felt so uncomfortable sitting here with what he liked to think of as the real Jay: the one that had been sneaked by DIANA into the virtual world, the one with all the strengths and vulnerabilities of a real personality, rather than the thought patterns of an actress playing a role in order to extract information from him. Resurrecting her after their discovery of her hiding in the floating building was supposed to be a gesture of goodwill on behalf of Berliner Sibelius, but Constantine couldn’t help thinking there were subtler schemes at work.

Monogamy had been Constantine’s choice. In the simulation it was no longer an option. How could he be monogamous when in one sense he wasn’t even Constantine: how could he be faithful or otherwise to a woman who lived in another world? 113 Berliner Sibelius had left him with the capacity for personal salvation of a clockwork orange.

They had left him marooned in a computer with a woman calculated to be attractive to him. Calculated to how many decimal places?

“Why you, Jay?” Constantine said.

“Why me sent here by DIANA, or why me resurrected by 113 Berliner Sibelius?”

“Both.”

“I already told you: Spearman’s coefficient of Rank Correlation. Someone did a personality match and found that of all the people available to DIANA I would be the most compatible with you. I guess 113 Berliner Sibelius resurrected me for the same reason.”

“Uh,” grunted Constantine, “I get the impression there’s more to it than that…” His voice tailed away. The room was dim, lit by the bright moon and stars shining from outside. Jay’s face was half in shadow. She had stopped rocking back and forth. She still shivered. Constantine wondered if he should fetch one of the thick white bathrobes from the bathroom. Or would that be just what they wanted? Would helping her be his first steps down the path that led to trusting her?

– It makes no difference what you do. Trust her if you like. I won’t allow you to say anything.

Grey’s words were a chilling whisper.

That made up Constantine’s mind. He rose to his feet, fetched the robe, and threw it to her. She began to pull it on gratefully.

“How did DIANA find out I was in here, anyway?” he asked.

“Routine scans. This computer, the one holding the simulation, is shielded against most attacks, but people don’t always keep quiet once they’ve left work. The comm lines are buzzing with talk about you. DIANA submitted transcripts of conversations to the courts as proof of your existence. Unsuccessfully, though. Their request for a warrant of disclosure was denied, but don’t let that comfort you. They’re trying everything in their power to get a picture of what’s stored in this computer’s memory. A snapshot of your personality construct: proof that you’re here. As soon as they get it, they’ll have you wiped. And as soon as you’re gone, that’s it for me, too.”

– And Marion and Mary, pointed out Red.-No point keeping the simulation going once you’re destroyed.

Constantine nodded. “What is 113 Berliner Sibelius offering you if you help them?”

Jay flinched. She was obviously frightened, but she was angry, too. It was building inside her. Her reply was a hoarse whisper.

“What is 113 Berliner Sibelius offering me?” she asked. “What are they offering me? I get to live. For as long as you want me, of course.”

She stared at him, eyes wide, as she spoke. Constantine said nothing in reply.

Jay glared at him. “Well? Say something. I live or die at your word. My whole existence in this place is down to keeping you happy. How do you think that makes me feel? And you ask what 113 Berliner Sibelius is offering me?”

Constantine shook his head. It really hadn’t occurred to him to see things from Jay’s point of view. He had been too busy feeling sorry for himself.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

Jay waved a hand at him and stared down at the floor. She shuddered.

“Ah, why am I blaming you? You didn’t choose to come in here. I did.”

Silence descended. Jay shook her head gently. Constantine wondered if she was crying.

– It could all be a trick, of course, said Red.

– Shut up, Red, Blue said.

– I don’t think it’s a trick, said White.-Something’s happening. This room is not maintaining its integrity. I see it when we move around. Parallax. Things aren’t quite where they should be. Something is draining system resources.

– So what’s the point of saying anything? Blue asked.-As soon as DIANA gets proof that we’re in here, we’ll be wiped anyway.

Constantine nodded. The idea had already occurred to him. He opened his mouth to say something, but White interrupted.

– Something big has just happened. Get ready to move.

Constantine opened his mouth to ask what, then he saw it for himself. For a moment the room flattened, became two dimensional. Jay became a picture, pasted to the wall. The bed, the writing desk, the view from the windows, were all just a flatscreen picture.

Jay was moving, standing up, the robe slipping to the floor.

“What was that?” she asked.

Normality began to reassert itself. Her body separated from the wall. Looking down, Constantine saw his feet, regained his illusion of depth.

“I don’t know…”

Marion and Mary were in the room; the balcony window had been pushed open.

“Quickly,” called Marion, “this way.”

They brushed briskly past, heading for the door that led to the bathroom. Barely two days ago Constantine had showered there and attempted to rid himself of a headache. Now he was running for his virtual life.

“DIANA almost got a handle on you there,” explained Mary. “We had to relocate this room within the simulation.”

Constantine wanted her to explain more, but Marion had pushed open the door to the bathroom and he saw what she meant.

Through the door he could see another place. He saw the dark emptiness of a field, the night sky pressing down from above. They were looking out across the first level of Stonebreak. At the edge of the horizon was visible the first pale line of the approaching dawn.

Constantine wondered if he would live to see it.

Now they were making their way through the farmlands of the first level, wading through muddy fields, stumbling into ditches, pushing their way through hedges. Behind them rose the dark mass of the city proper.

Mary was gasping for breath. “Too tired. Too tired. Stop…can’t keep it up.”

Constantine was tired too, his breath heaving. Marion was talking into her console.

“Okay,” she said. She called out to the group.

“Over here. They’ve prepared an area for us.”

– Why do we have to keep moving? complained Red.

“Keep us moving, stop us thinking,” gasped Constantine out loud. He wanted them to hear what he said. Let them know he was onto them.

“Not true,” said Marion. “Don’t you realize the danger we’re all in? Come on. This way…”

They ran into a cornfield: genetically modified corn, standing taller than they were. They pushed on through the damp plants, tangled strings of vegetable matter clinging to their faces and bodies. On and on, pushing and pushing, lost in a maze of stalks. Just when they thought it would never end, they emerged into a clearing. They all fell panting to the ground.

“Okay,” Marion gasped, “we should be as safe here as anywhere else.”

Jay was biting her lip. Trembling. Hesitantly, Constantine put his arm around her. Wordlessly, she pressed closer. It felt nice. Constantine felt guilty.

“What now?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” said Marion. She was looking at Jay thoughtfully. “We just wait and see.”

The sun was rising. The heads of the surrounding corn were silhouetted against it. So he had lived to see the dawn. Now would he make midday?

They sat on prickly stubble in a cleared area, corn tickling their legs and bottoms, damp broken stalks caught in their hair and clothes. Constantine was holding Jay; the others were almost touching. Huddling for safety. No one had spoken for some time. They all looked at each other. Wondering. What was happening outside? Marion was watching Jay like a hawk. Why Jay? Why was she in here?

Constantine tried to distract her. He asked Mary the question that had been bothering him since he had first discovered where he was.

“I never understood, why were you in the simulation?”

Mary looked up at him and shot him a tired smile.

“Trying to get you to look at things from another perspective. You look at Stonebreak and you see it in terms of money flowing in and money flowing out. I was trying to get you to see the human cost.”

“But why?”

Mary and Marion glanced at each other. Marion spoke first.

“Because we think you are on the wrong side. We want you to join us.”

“What? Join 113 Berliner Sibelius?”

They laughed shrilly. The sudden release from the tension they had all been living under had made them slightly hysterical. Eventually they regained control. Mary spoke next.

“Oh, Constantine. You’re still thinking in terms of money. This isn’t about you being an employee of DIANA and us being employed by 113 Berliner Sibelius. Our loyalties go far deeper.”

“To who? Who are you working for?”

Mary laughed. “Me, Marion, all of 113 Berliner Sibelius. We’re working for the AIs.”

Constantine sneered. “Aren’t we all?”

“DIANA isn’t, but DIANA is practically alone. DIANA still thinks in human terms, Constantine. Humans plan five or ten or twenty years ahead. They’re using up the last of the oil now and leaving their children the problem of what to do when it’s all gone. AIs don’t think like that. They’ll still be here tomorrow to deal with the mess they make today.”

Constantine was scornful. “DIANA is run by AIs just like every other corporation. It wouldn’t be able to survive otherwise. Why should DIANA be any different than 113 Berliner Sibelius?”

Marion spoke in a low voice. “Because DIANA set up the Mars project. Only DIANA has tried to fight the Watcher.”

Constantine laughed. “Oh, come on. No one even knows for sure if the Watcher exists. It’s a very attractive story, true. My grandmother used to go on about it all the time-”

“Of course the Watcher exists,” said Marion, sounding tired. “We’ve known that for years.”

Constantine was stunned.

– It’s true, said Grey.

“What? But…but…why wasn’t I told?”

Marion looked at him.

“That question wasn’t addressed to me, was it? Well, I’ll answer it anyway. Everything about this war you are fighting is a secret. Look at you: a ghost. Did you honestly expect to be told everything? The Watcher has been in contact with every major corporation on Earth since 2068.”

“Just before Stonebreak was begun,” said Jay.

“And since then DIANA has been fighting its last war.”

“Its last war? Over what?”

“Over who controls human destiny.”

Constantine said nothing; it was obvious that Marion had scored a telling point. Jay stared at him. “Is this right?” she asked. Constantine looked at Marion as he answered.

“In a way. It’s what the Mars project is all about.”

Jay turned to Marion. They were all just dark shapes in the clearing, their whispers cutting through the damp air. Jay’s frustration was evident in her voice.

“Look, what’s going on? What’s the Mars project all about? What do you mean, fighting to control human destiny?”

Marion shook her head. “It’s not so much a fight as a vainglorious rearguard action, doomed to failure. Humanity surrendered control to the Watcher fifty years ago, back when Berliner Sibelius bought the design for a cold fusion system from the Watcher.”

“They bought the design? What was the price?”

“Nothing like what you’d expect. No money, just a commitment to a fast phaseout of fossil-fuel-powered ground vehicles.”

“Sounds like a good deal,” said Jay.

“It wouldn’t have been that good a deal,” said Mary. “Back then there were too many vested interests. Cold fusion wouldn’t have provided as much profit as the infrastructure built on fossil fuel. At least, not initially.”

“And when it didn’t,” interrupted Marion, “Berliner Sibelius decided to cheat the Watcher. They were slow on the changeover. They allowed things to slide, made excuses, cut corners. They thought they were getting away with it. After all, what could the Watcher do to them? Take away the plans? It was too late for that. They thought they were safe. What do you suppose the Watcher did?”

“I don’t know.”

“It gave the design for an even better form of cold fusion to Imagineers. They were a small company back then, two women on the edge of bankruptcy. Now they’re the third-biggest corporation around. Berliner Sibelius only just avoided collapse. The warning was clear: the Watcher was taking control.”

Jay looked from Marion to Constantine.

“Do you agree with her?” she asked him. “Is DIANA really fighting the Watcher to preserve the right of humanity to control its own actions?”

Constantine paused, listening for Grey, who remained silent.

“Yes.”

Jay sat for a moment in shocked silence. In the near dark, Constantine saw her obstinately fold her arms.

“Okay. So it’s true, then. It’s still not a war, though.”

“But it is,” Constantine said thoughtfully. “Because if there is a Watcher guiding us, manipulating us, how can we trust it? We may have replaced fossil fuels with cold fusion, but does that mean every decision the Watcher makes is the right one for us? I don’t think so. Marion’s wrong in helping to fight DIANA. She’s on the wrong side. I don’t think much of the Watcher’s world.”

“Why not?” Mary asked softly. “Our world is just beginning, if only you’d allow yourself to see it. You know, a long time ago, just around the time that Turing first began to think about machines that could solve problems, the same time that Von Neumann began to wonder about self-replicating machines, there was a writer who asked why it was that when we find positive experiences we say that only the physical facts are real, but in negative experiences we believe that reality is subjective. He made an example of those who say that in birth only the pain is real, the joy a subjective point of view, but that in death it is the emotional loss that is the reality.”

Marion dropped her voice.

“The Watcher is right to take control. It is making the world a better place.”

Constantine gazed at her.

– She has a point, said Blue.

In the half-light, he could just make out Mary grinning at him.

“That’s why I was put in here. I’m your conscience,” she said. “It’s a different world, Constantine. You’re fighting for the wrong side. What can we do to convince you of that?”

Marion spoke. “Mary hasn’t told you something else, Constantine. Out in the real world she was regarded as an expert in the field of personality constructs. When she volunteered to come in here she knew what she was committing herself to: the possibility of being turned off at any time. She came in anyway because she believes in what she is saying-”

At that her console suddenly emitted a shrill noise, distilled panic. They jumped to their feet and looked around. Something was coming.

Marion was shouting. “It’s DIANA. They have a pipe into the simulation! They’re looking for you, Constantine.”

“Should I run?”

“Yes! No! I don’t know.”

He took a few faltering steps across the stubble.

Marion called out to him. “No! Come back!” She was listening to the console. “They say we should stand close. In a huddle!”

Constantine came back. They huddled together. Mary to his left, Jay to his right.

“I don’t feel so good,” said Mary.

Constantine squeezed her arm. Brave Mary, he hadn’t known.

“Don’t worry,” he said. It sounded ridiculous even to his ears.

“What’s happening?” asked Jay.

The scenery around them blanked out. They were standing in a grey box.

“They’ve got us!” someone screamed.

“Hold tighter.”

“Oh my God,” cried Mary, sounding strange.

Marion was shouting again. “They’ve found the pipe. Berliner Sibelius has found DIANA’s pipe. They’re going to disconnect it. Ten more seconds…”

“Too long…”

Was that Mary?

“Oh my God!” Mary screamed. The note dropped in pitch. The feel of her body was changing. Fat was melting away. She was changing shape.

Constantine looked at her. Her face was out of focus. She was becoming someone else…she was becoming…him. Constantine. She looked back at him beseechingly.

“Help me, Constantine…” she whispered.

Someone grabbed at Constantine and pulled him away. Dragged him through a door that had appeared, leading into a long, wide, low room full of strange machinery. They were running.

“Why are we running?” called Jay.

“Force of habit,” said Marion bitterly, coming to a halt. “We have humanity written right through us.” She was grey with terror.

“What happened there?” croaked Constantine.

Jay gave a nervous laugh. “Obvious, isn’t it? DIANA is trying to get a snapshot of you, Constantine. They need proof positive that you’re in here.”

“Why? They know I’m in here.”

“Yes, but they need the proof to present to the courts. Look, if a memory attack succeeds in wiping you out, 113 Berliner Sibelius will just run this simulation again. They’ve got your personality backed up in plenty of places. You’ll live the last three weeks over and over again until you give them what they want, and you will in the end, because each time they run you, they’ll learn just a little bit more about how to push your buttons. DIANA knows this. They’ve got lawyers out there. Lawyers who know who has copyright on your intelligence.”

Constantine didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Everything was happening too quickly.

“I don’t understand. Who has copyright on my intelligence?”

– You do, of course, said Grey.-The real you. The one who works for DIANA.

Jay had been speaking at the same time as Grey. She continued:

“…and the real you will be demanding that what is quite literally his intellectual copyright should not be violated. He has the right to have all pirate copies destroyed.”

Marion was sobbing with terror now. It was infectious. Constantine felt panic bubbling up within himself. If he let it boil over, he would never get a grip on himself.

“Yes. Okay. But WHAT HAPPENED TO MARY?”

Jay slapped him. “Calm down. Think about it! DIANA almost got a snapshot of you. Mary was a decoy. They only had ten seconds before the pipe was closed. 113 BS turned her into a near copy of you. DIANA uploaded the wrong one.”

Constantine felt fear and disgust and incredulity.

“They did that to poor Mary?” He rounded on Marion. “And you still say that 113 Berliner Sibelius are the good guys?”

Marion’s expression was now one of both anger and terror.

“They did that to Mary. And as you haven’t figured it out, I’ll spell it out. They will do it to me next time. Then they’ll do it to Jay.”

She shuddered.

“And I tell you this. Despite the fact that they did that to poor Mary, despite the fact that they will do it to me, I think that they were right. I still say that 113 Berliner Sibelius are the good guys. Constantine, you’re fighting for the wrong side.”

They wandered aimlessly through the low, wide room they had escaped into. It reminded Constantine of a forest where someone had cut away the tops of the trees and then placed a roof on top. In every direction they could see irregular patterns of metallic trunks rising from floor to ceiling.

“Where are we?” he asked after some time.

“Deep beneath Stonebreak. The very roots of the city,” answered Marion. She was crying now.

Constantine felt as if he should apologize to her. “I want to say something, Marion. If I could, I’d tell you what you want to know to spare you this…”

– You’re a fool, said Grey.-Even if you could speak, how do you know this isn’t all a trick?

Marion merely looked at the floor.

“It makes no difference, anyway, Constantine,” said Jay. “DIANA will wipe you in the end, whether you’ve told them or not.”

“Not true,” said Marion. “Why would DIANA waste their time silencing you once you’ve told all? These attacks will be costing them. They wouldn’t believe that Berliner Sibelius would keep us alive afterward. Where would the profit be?”

“No,” Constantine said, “you don’t understand. I want to tell you. It’s just that I can’t. The Grey personality is stopping me.”

He spoke the words quickly before Grey could stop him. He heard a sudden yelp of annoyance and then:

– It makes no difference.

Marion looked at Constantine in amazement.

“Why didn’t you say so sooner? I’m sure we could do something…”

Her console pinged. She held it to her ear.

“Twenty-two minutes,” she said. “They can suppress the Grey personality, but they say it will take twenty-two minutes.”

The room shuddered, pixellated, and returned to normal.

They looked at each other. Another attack.

– Twenty-two minutes? Grey laughed.-You haven’t got that long.

“Yeah, so how can we trust 113 Berliner Sibelius?” asked Jay.

“Because they work for the Watcher,” said Marion.

“That’s not an argument,” said Constantine. “I still say we don’t know for sure that the Watcher exists. Where would it come from anyway?”

Jay stared at him.

“Don’t you know? I thought that was common knowledge.”

Marion gave a sigh of realization. “So that’s why they put you in here.”

Jay was now speaking.

“It’s common knowledge on any of the space stations.”

“Yes?”

Jay came out of her apparent trance and looked at Constantine.

“Did you know that we are constantly scanning the skies out there? Looking for something. Anything. It’s standing orders. Anyone who travels through space-asteroid miners, pleasure cruisers, light sailors, everyone-is told to keep their eye on the sky. But no one looks as hard as we do.”

“I know what you’re looking for,” said Marion. “Alien VNMs.”

“That’s right,” Jay said. “If we can build self-replicating machines, then why not other races? What better way to exploit the galaxy? There we are, a station built of metal and plastic; we must stand out like a small star to any VNMs hunting for raw material. We were built that way deliberately, if you ask me. The edge of human space is littered with space stations, all loaded with excess gold and uranium and anything else that might just appeal to the appetite of any hungry self-replicating machine that happens by.”

“I didn’t know that,” Constantine said.

Jay continued. “Anyway, that’s all very well and good. But when you’re out there, watching ships disappear and monitoring the skies, you begin to talk. Other theories start to emerge. Like this one: Why are we looking for physical signs of alien life? Don’t we move increasingly away from the physical world as technology develops? Isn’t everything located more and more in the digital world?”

She laughed. “Just look at us.” Her brown eyes danced and sparkled, and Constantine felt a little wriggle inside him.

She became serious again. “Now, why not assume that alien races develop in the same way? Maybe they look across space and see us, not as a system of rock and metal and water and air, but rather as a digital haven. They see an area of memory and processing capability. Maybe when you reach a certain level of development that’s how all the universe looks to you.

“Why send a spaceship to contact us? Or a VNM? Why not just transmit the necessary programs to our computers?”

She dropped her voice. “Or maybe they just sent a personality to grow. An Advanced AI that can take root in suitable processing spaces. A sort of interstellar computer virus. Something that grew up into the Watcher.”

She looked around the group. “Of course, it’s only a theory. But you know, I can’t help thinking. If we’re talking about a virus sent here by advanced beings, maybe it would be a good thing. Maybe Marion is right. Maybe it could be trying to help us. Just like the Europeans used to try to develop the new countries they explored.”

“Only so they could exploit them,” Constantine said.

“You get my point, though.”

Marion’s console sounded.

“Twenty minutes. They think they’ve got a fix on Grey. They’re wondering how to suppress that part of your personality map. Things have gone quiet out there. DIANA doesn’t seem to be doing anything at the moment.”

“They won’t have given up. They’ll be planning something.” Jay ran her hand across one of the twisted metal trunks that rose from floor to ceiling. She looked at the plaited strands and thought: Twists around twists. Plots inside plots.

Constantine was looking at Marion. She really believed what she was saying.

“Blue?” said Constantine.

– Oh, yes. She believes it’s true. Red?

– I agree. Have we been fighting for the wrong side?

“I don’t know. Jay. What do you think? Do you think the Watcher is fighting to make the world a better place?”

Jay looked back at him. “Constantine, I don’t care. I just want to live.”

“So do I. Marion. How much longer until they suppress Grey?”

Marion listened to her console again.

“Eighteen minutes. They’re going to move us on again, soon. It’s too quiet out there.”

“Fine,” said Constantine.

They passed the intervening time in silence. It was too quiet; the lack of activity made them nervous. They kept turning around to look behind themselves. They examined the metal of the trunks minutely, looking out for pixellation. Nothing. It was a relief when Marion’s console sounded again.

She listened for a moment. “This way.”

They all walked around a metal trunk she indicated to find a doorway that had formed in the air. It led back out to the cornfield in midafternoon. The sun could be seen high above in the brilliant blue sky, its brightness pouring down into the shadowy space of the Stonebreak foundations.

“You first, Constantine,” Marion said.

“Okay.”

He stepped forward. Jay grabbed his arm and pulled him back.

“No! That’s not right.”

Constantine stared at her. She was gazing through the doorway, her face screwed up in concentration.

“What’s up, Jay?”

“It can’t be right. Time has been running consistently in the simulation, no matter where we have been. It should still be early morning. It’s afternoon out there.”

She looked frantically around. Her eyes alighted on Marion.

“Marion. Your console. That’s not your console!”

Marion gazed at it, bright in the light that streamed through the doorway. She turned it over in her hands.

“You’re right. This isn’t my console…”

“Get away from the door. Run!”

It was too late. The doorway twisted, expanded, reached out and gulped Marion up. Jay and Constantine turned and ran without hesitation, dodging through metal trunks, bright light at their heels, running for the shadows.

Constantine heard his own console pinging. He ignored it. Jay seized his arm and dragged him toward a door that had suddenly formed in the air.

“This way!” she called, pulling him out into brightness.

“No!” he said. It was too late; they tumbled over each other, tumbled out through a doorway in the air, back into the cornfield.

It was early morning again. A pale blue sky, slowly deepening in color. Fresh air in their lungs and the rough feel of stubble beneath their hands and knees.

Constantine slowly pushed himself to his feet. Jay was already standing, looking around her.

“We’re safe, I think,” she said. “I’m sure we are. We’re still on 113 Berliner Sibelius time. I saw the door in the air and it looked right.”

“What happened back there?”

“DIANA almost tricked us, I think. Got a Trojan in here on the back of that last attack. Used it to replace Marion’s console. They were leading us straight toward them. We almost stepped into the jaws of the beast.”

“Marion did.” They were silent for a moment.

Jay spoke hesitantly. “Berliner Sibelius can resurrect her, maybe?”

“If we get out of here alive. I wonder if what she said about suppressing Grey was true?”

The corn nearby waved and formed a pattern, twisted itself into letters that spelled out words for them.

It’s true. Ten more minutes.

“Ten minutes,” said Constantine. He reached out and took Jay’s hand. She looked up at him and gave a little smile. She held out her other hand. He took it and squeezed it.

“They put you in here because you knew where the Watcher came from.”

“I don’t. That was just the theory circulating on the space station.”

“They seem to think it’s the right one.” He looked thoughtful. “The Watcher. So it’s a seed from another world that has taken root in our computers…”

Jay squeezed his hand again. “Nine minutes now,” she said. “Are you going to tell them what they want to know?”

“Yes.”

“Do you believe what poor Mary said about the Watcher?”

Constantine shook his head. “A powerful force shaping humanity toward some bright new future? It’s a nice idea. I want it to be true. But I can’t help thinking there’s more to it than that. Things are never so pat.”

“I know,” she said.

Eight minutes, said the corn.

They moved closer together. A gentle breeze blew, stirring the heads of corn surrounding the clearing in which they found themselves. It all seemed so peaceful. It was hard to believe that one of the most powerful corporations on the planet was actively seeking their destruction.

Seven minutes.

Constantine began to wonder if they would make it.

There was a click and the sky was the brilliant blue of midafternoon for a moment, then it went black.

Constantine looked up at the tiny lights of the stars, high above. The heat of the momentary day was vanishing, billowing up into the sudden night. Bizarrely, the meadow still appeared bathed in daylight.

“What’s happening?”

A console signaled. Jay’s. She looked hesitantly at Constantine, then answered it.

“Yes?”

The message was set for her ears only. Her face crumpled.

“What’s happened?” Constantine said anxiously.

She looked at him and her eyes were wide with uncertainty. “DIANA got a handle on this system. They’ve succeeded in taking a snapshot of you. Constantine, we haven’t got much time left. DIANA’s lawyers now have the proof that you’re in here. They will be seeking an injunction to have you wiped. They will win that injunction. Tell 113 Berliner Sibelius what they want to know. Where is the VNM that you took from Mars? What are you going to do with it?”

Constantine shook his head. “I told you. I can’t say anything. Grey is blocking me.”

Somewhere inside his head he heard laughter.

Jay was shouting into the console in frustration. “Six minutes! Can’t you stall the injunction for six minutes?”

“I don’t know what to do…” Constantine muttered to himself. He appealed to the other voices in his head. “Red, Blue, any ideas?”

– I’m thinking, I’m thinking, Red said frantically.

– Do we really want to help them? asked Blue.

– We’re losing resolution, said White.

“Look! Over there!” Jay seemed very excited. Yet another door had opened in the air. Yellow dawn sunshine poured out of it, a patch of hope on the cold ground beneath the starlit sky. She pulled Constantine through and the door slammed shut.

They were standing in the cornfield again. Damp corn hemmed them in on all sides, shining golden in the light of the new day. They looked at each other. Jay’s hair was tangled with fragments of vegetable matter.

“What now?” Constantine asked.

“I don’t know. We have to maintain ‘radio silence’. 113 BS have us locked up in a bubble of memory. They’re time-slicing it through the processors at irregular intervals in an attempt to avoid detection.”

“Fair enough. Well, let’s get out of this field.”

“No…”

But Constantine had already begun to walk away, pushing aside the tall plants, taller than her head, and clearing a path for them.

“There’s no point,” Jay continued as he pushed through the corn behind her. He looked at her with a surprised expression that quickly faded. He nodded his head in acceptance.

“I suppose they can’t keep too big an area open. I like the wraparound effect.” He crouched down, brushing aside the dead stalks and debris, then sat down.

“We may as well make ourselves comfortable.”

Jay did the same. The ground felt soft and slightly spongy. Less like soil than a piece of Madeira cake.

– We’re losing resolution still, said White.

“Can you speak yet?” asked Jay.

Constantine shook his head. “No. Tell them to hurry up and wipe Grey. How much longer?”

“Too long, I think,” said Jay, tight-lipped. The corn around them was fading.

“Just one more thing,” said Constantine. “I never understood. If they have my mind on their computer, why not just read it directly?”

Jay answered softly.

“How could they do that? They can replicate your memories and your thought patterns electronically, but it’s the interaction of those things with the outside world that produces the mind. You might as well ask a book what it’s thinking. You can’t be a personality in a vacuum; you need something to interact with. Everyone needs an environment in which to be themselves.”

The corn had faded from view. Now the ground beneath them vanished too, then the sky. They floated in grey nothingness.

Jay reached out toward him. Constantine pulled her close. He had just realized something.

When everything else in their world had vanished, when even the bodies that remained were artificial, they still had their humanity to hold onto.

That was important. He knew it.

A voice spoke gently behind him.

“Personality construct Constantine Peregrine Storey.”

“Yes?” He turned. There was nothing there.

The voice continued.

“The firm of Drury, Faiers, Jennings and Mehta, acting on behalf of DIANA, have secured the computers, memory, long-term storage, and all associated hardware and software of 113 Berliner Sibelius currently engaged in maintaining and operating the personality construct of Constantine Peregrine Storey. The firm of Drury, Faiers, Jennings and Mehta wish to make it known that they have secured a court order declaring that the personality construct of Constantine Peregrine Storey is in breach of copyright of the original personality of Constantine Peregrine Storey, currently employed by DIANA. The personality construct of Constantine Peregrine Storey maintained in this computer has been declared illegal and will be erased immediately.”

“Just a moment!” called Constantine. “I want to protest. I am a sentient being in my own right.”

There was no reply. Constantine felt a tingle at the back of his head. Had he just forgotten something?

The voice continued.

“The firm of Drury, Faiers, Jennings and Mehta have also secured a court order declaring the personality construct of Jay Ana Apple…”

Constantine was trying to make sense of the words. The name Jay meant something, but he couldn’t remember what.

“…to be a breach of copyright…”

Copyright? thought Constantine. There was a young woman standing in front of him. What was her name again?

Red was speaking.-Grey has gone. They wiped Grey too soon. Speak now. Tell them what they want to know…

But he didn’t know what this voice meant; what who wanted to know? The other, gentle voice was gabbling now, he didn’t understand what it was saying…