Twinmaker

46

“I NEED YOUR help,” she said. “My friend used Improvement—”

“Gemma told us,” Turner interrupted her.

“So you know she doesn’t have much time,” she said firmly. “Whatever was done to her, there has to be a way to undo it. On the way here, Jesse and I talked about going to VIA and trying to get them to do something about it—”

“They won’t listen,” Turner said, shaking his head.

“They will if we make them. If we show them the body of the dupe, that’ll prove that something’s going on.”

“We didn’t find anything in the body’s lenses,” Ray said. “All the data has been erased.”

Clair hid her disappointment.

“We don’t need the data,” she improvised. “Dylan Linwood is officially still alive. The body proves that someone’s tampering with parity, doesn’t it? If there’s one of him walking around somewhere out there, and one of him dead here . . . how can VIA argue with that?”

“They can’t,” said Turner, “unless the dupes go to ground.”

“So we move quickly. We don’t give them time to get organized. Once VIA’s on our side, the people responsible won’t have a chance.”

“VIA isn’t the solution,” said Gemma. “It’s a bandage over the open wound of d-mat.”

“D-mat isn’t the problem,” Clair argued.

“It’s everyone’s problem, Clair. You still haven’t noticed yet?”

“D-mat’s like a gun or a drone or a . . . a shoe. How it’s used is what matters.”

“This is not a fruitful argument to have now,” said Turner in a placating tone. “We don’t have to agree on anything except our common humanity.”

Clair was not going to be placated.

“I honestly can’t see anyone taking on a problem this big without help from somewhere,” she said. “Who else is there? The peacekeepers? The federal government? OneEarth? They all benefit from the status quo; they won’t want anything changed. VIA’s power hinges entirely on d-mat’s reliability. That’s why VIA exists at all. If d-mat is proved to be unreliable, VIA won’t have a leg to stand on. They’ll have to act to save themselves.”

“You can’t really think it’d be that easy,” said Gemma.

“No, but that’s not going to stop me,” she said, rising to her feet. She put on her firmest voice. The crowd listened to a young man with a square jaw, so maybe they’d listen to her, too.

“This is a war, and we’re vastly outnumbered, but that never stopped someone from being right. You understand that better than anyone. We can sit here arguing about the means all day—you want to tear the system down and start again, while I want the system to fix itself as it’s supposed to—but the ends we want to achieve are not all that different. We want people to be safe. We don’t want people to be altered in ways they shouldn’t. That’s what everyone wants. Can’t we find a way to do this together? No one ever changed the world acting alone.”

Jesse actually clapped, and in that moment she could’ve kissed him. But he was the only one, and after a few seconds he trailed off.

“Ah, the irony,” said Turner with smile. “I want to say that words are not enough, when all I have are words, too. Why don’t you give us a moment to think about what you’ve said? We’ll call you when we’re ready.”

“You’ve already made up your mind,” said Clair with a heavy feeling in her gut.

“Don’t be so sure. You’re asking us to help you, and that’s a big commitment, but you have a lot to offer us in return. We always need information and evidence, and you have provided both. You and Jesse and your friend Q. We don’t have to agree with each other to be useful to each other. . . . Jamila?”

The young woman with the mismatched irises stood and led Clair and Jesse down the spiral staircase, back to the D-shaped deck below. No one said anything as they left, but Clair and Jesse were tracked with every step.

Don’t give up hope, Clair told herself. He didn’t actually say no.

“You think Turner’s a good guy?” she asked Jamila before the woman went back to join the others.

“The best,” she said with shy smile.

“Isn’t he a little young to be in charge, though?”

“Age doesn’t come into it. All that matters is getting the job done.”

“The job being to get rid of d-mat, I suppose.”

The woman blinked as though Clair was asking a stupid question. “Of course.”

She vanished through the door and locked it behind her, leaving the prisoners with the cushions, the coffeemaker, the microwave, and the view.

Jesse headed for the miniature kitchen to pour himself some coffee. “Me,” he said, “I’m feeling slightly underwhelmed.”

Clair nodded. She was thinking about Dylan Linwood, whose fame as a transport artist, or whatever he had called himself, had put him in a good position to be a spokesperson for WHOLE, she would have thought. But the one time he had openly used that position to attack Improvement over the Air had seen him duped. The video he had made had been noted at the time, but how many viewers had been convinced by it? Within hours, his home had been destroyed, and he was missing, presumed crazier than ever.

What could unknown Clair Hill do that he hadn’t?

She returned to her cushion against the window and sat down, closing her eyes and accessing her lenses. She didn’t know how long she had before the meeting reconvened. But she resolved to use that time wisely.

“Are you there, Q?”

“I’m right there with you. Hey—that rhymes.”

“Where are you, exactly?”

“I appear to be in the Air. That’s where I came to myself, anyway, when we started talking. There’s lots of room for me in here, but it’s hard to describe where ‘here’ is, exactly. I’m surrounded by so much information . . . it’s scary sometimes. . . .”

Clair could accept this, but at the same time she couldn’t. It was difficult to imagine how someone could be alive without a body, let alone live in the Air, but if people could be d-matted anywhere in the world, why not into a virtual environment like the air? That made Q something like a ghost in a virtual library containing all of human history and knowledge. It would be hard to avoid getting lost in there and perhaps just as hard to find one small thing out of everything else.

“I need to know something,” she said. “Dylan Linwood attached some brain scans to the video of Principal Gordon’s office. Can you track down their source?”

“I can certainly try, Clair,” Q said. “Private medical data is difficult to access, but I’m sure I’ll find a way in eventually, if I dig long enough.”

“Thanks.”

“Is there anything else?”

“Too much, probably. What can you tell me about Turner Goldsmith? Young guy, a bit too smooth for his own good. Possibly WHOLE’s leader.”

“I have a peacekeeper warrant outstanding for one Turner Archibald Goldsmith, but he’s not young. He’s listed as eighty-two years old.”

“Well, that can’t be right. Maybe he’s the original’s grandson, using a family name.”

“His records show no offspring.”

“He stole the old guy’s identity?”

“That would explain the discrepancy. . . .”

Or someone was outright lying, Clair thought. The layers of deceit and misinformation seemed to get thicker every time she tried to roll them back.

“Finally, I need a way to get to New York without being spotted,” she said. “Do you think you can help me with that?”

“Of course, Clair. D-mat is out of the question . . .”

Q’s voice faded briefly into static, then returned.

“. . . alternate routes, depending on . . .”

“What was that, Q? I missed something.”

“. . . natural interference at your end. I’ll try . . .”

“You’re fading again. What?”

“. . . unusual readings . . .”

A vibration ran through the Skylifter, making the mugs and cups rattle.

Clair opened her eyes and saw Jesse with his hand against one wall, staring at her.

“Did you feel that?” he asked.

Sudden bright white light flared. The floor tipped beneath them, and Clair slid directly toward one of the windows.