‘I think that went quite well, don’t you?’ suggested Alan as he removed his bulky headphones.
‘As well as could be expected,’ replied Warner.
‘It felt like the old days: dealing with clients whilst always keeping control of the agenda. Not bad considering I was dealing with him!’
‘Yes, you did fine job, Alan. Maybe your current mental enfeeblement is just a temporary phenomenon.’
‘Alan regarded Warner with a cold smile: ‘You reckon!?’
‘Not really. The headphones certainly helped: I used them to tighten up your brainwaves a bit.’
‘You did what!?’
‘Relax, Alan – you’d get the same effect from a strong cup of coffee! It’s just enhanced beta wave production. Jeez, don’t be so touchy!’ Warner stated with a mischievous glint.
‘You could have told me!’ replied Alan, picking up the headphones and regarding them closely before throwing them back onto the desk.
‘Careful!’ warned Warner.
Alan shrugged: ‘Well, I have to admit, it did feel like the return of old ‘Digital Alan’. Can I have a pair of these?’
‘They’d cook your cerebrum with extended use, and you’d look stupid wearing them all the time. By the way, who’s Digital Alan? The old hybrid?’
‘Yeah, and I’ve since been reborn as Analogue Alan. He kind of sucks! What sort of extended use are we talking about here?’
‘Forget the headphones – save them for psynet sessions. If they worked you’ve got it in you anyway. And trust me, Analogue Alan is an improvement, even if you are something of an imbecile. But if you want to sharpen up your wits I may have some non-invasive techniques that could help, but you’d have to work at those. They are not quick fixes.’
‘Alright, let’s do it!’
‘I think we should discuss your “meeting” with the Prime Minister first. There were one or two issues.’
‘Oh?’
‘Hmm, like why – when asked directly by the PM – you refused to explain your connections to the so-called “Gang of Four”. You’ve not even told me about them!’
Alan fiddled with the computer mouse: ‘I’m not sure what he was on about there.’
‘Pull the other one!’
‘Alright! It’s not something I’m happy talking about. I can’t quite get my head around it.’
‘Neither can I; neither can the Prime Minister; neither can MI6! Four freaks, one of whom is an aerobics instructor for God’s sake, took down an alien martial power like they were swatting a fly, and they’ve been running rings around everyone ever since, including me!! …It’s time to ’fessup. Who are they?’
Alan remained silent.
‘Would it help if I plied you with more alcohol?’ suggested Warner.
‘Absolutely not! I’ve only just recovered from last night!’
‘Which is more than can be said for my bathroom… Come on, I know a nice wine bar in Holborn…’
Alan sighed. ‘Alright, but quid pro quo: I’ll tell you about them, but you’ll tell me about your GFS ownership – yes, I know about that! – and this “Sponsor parasite” that apparently I’m working for! I presume he was referring to you.’
The Holborn wine bar was generally pleasing on the eye with its affected pre-industrial charm, the ambience enhanced still further by the rich hues of sunlight that came refracting through the bar’s ancient stained-glass windows. At 6pm it was already full.
‘Why don’t we spill out onto the street and catch some sun; there’s nowhere to sit in here anyway,’ suggested Warner.
Alan followed Warner outside; he tentatively viewed his chardonnay and swilled it around his glass.
‘See, it has legs. That’s a sure sign of quality,’ said Warner.
Alan sampled the wine and pulled a face.
‘No good?’
‘It’s alright. I prefer Red Bull.’
‘You pleb!’ Warner sipped her wine and viewed the comings and goings on the street with interest: two taxi drivers were arguing loudly with each other in almost hysterical tones. Once they’d both finally driven off, she turned to Alan: ‘Right, you go first: Who are the Gang of Four?’
‘No, you go first: You own GFS! What gives?’
Warner looked uncomfortable: ‘I have to admit, up until a few days ago that was a critical secret, but now the Sponsors are gone I guess it doesn’t matter anymore. I am very surprised, however, that you managed to uncover it at all: there were layers of perception filters obscuring my ownership. Did “Call me Jim” have anything to do with this?’
‘He helped me, yes, but it was his ultra-fast recruitment that puzzled me – it got me thinking.’
‘It shouldn’t.’
‘Why?’
‘Perception filters. Either you can get past them now, or Jim can. I hope this isn’t indicative of a wider failure in this area, we’ll be screwed if it is!’ Warner gazed blankly into the middle-distance.
‘You still haven’t explained why,’ asserted Alan.
‘Well, isn’t it obvious? GFS was a principle hub of their financial operations. They needed an entity that legally existed within the human system. I made GFS look attractive by giving them the impression that I was a sleeping owner: happy to take the dividends, but disinterested in the day-to-day running of the business. They knew about me at the start; I even let them do a number on me to ensure my docility. After that they lost interest and I was able to then infiltrate via my status as client. Simples!’
‘You are so… Machiavellian!’
‘Thanks! So tell me about the–’
‘Not so fast, Helen, you said earlier that the Prime Minister was onto you, and you were clearly nervous, but he never mentioned you by name and instead – when he cottoned on to the fact I was taking instructions from someone through the headphones – referred to a “Sponsor parasite”. And why did he refuse to tell me its name, even though it clearly has one? He kept on calling it “the–” and then he’d stop himself. Unless he was going to say: “The Helen Warner”.’
Warner chuckled: ‘This Sponsor parasite must be a reference to the psynet. He seems to have got hold of some intel from somewhere, god knows where, and concluded that my psynet is, or was, a parasite of the Sponsors, which I suppose it was, in a sense. The psynet was giving me oblique clues about this earlier hence my own panic, which I now suspect was misplaced, or at least premature.’
Alan nodded: ‘So he wasn’t referring to you personally? He seemed to be implying that I work for this parasite.’
‘He just has a few pieces of the jigsaw but can’t yet see the whole picture. So he’s reaching; jumping to conclusions.’
‘Yet?’
‘Which is why we need to bring him in… before he does! Incidentally, he did appear to grasp the seriousness of the genetic issues and I found that encouraging. I think we will be able to reel him in. We’ll get down to some of the nitty-gritty tomorrow if that is the case, but let the poor sap sleep on it first, eh?’ Warner winked at Alan as she drank more of her wine.
‘Okay’, said Alan, ‘but just to clarify: you are human, aren’t you?’
Warner spluttered on her wine: ‘Born and raised in Barnett, dear boy. Of course I’m human! Just a staggeringly intelligent one, that’s all!’
‘Alright! Alright!’ Alan tasted more of his chardonnay and pulled more faces, but the wine was already starting to relax him, and it was starting to taste better.
‘Your turn,’ said Warner.
Alan suddenly drained his glass and looked for somewhere to place it. Warner took it off him.
‘They’re Earth Gods.’
‘Come again?’ Warner’s expression was hard to read, as it often was. There was a mixture of incredulity, dismissive disbelief, anger at Alan for being flippant – and fear.
‘It’s true. Really true. As in – absolutely true.’
It was Warner’s turn to remain silent. She gazed wide-eyed at Alan, waiting...
‘You know there is a woman, a
cat and a giant spider?’ asked Alan.
‘Yes.’
‘Right, well the woman’s the biology, the cat’s the chemistry and the spider’s the engineering.’
‘Warner’s mouth was agape: ‘What!?’
‘The woman is a “gestalt”, I believe is the term; she’s the collective identity and life-force of every cell on Earth, the cat actually is Planet Earth and the spider is a gestalt of every computer and machine on Earth, including your psynet, presumably.’
‘Christ!’ said Warner, draining her glass, ‘how do you know all this?’
‘When my boss and the other hybrids were taken out – by their own weapon on the sentinel, incidentally – I was not killed outright due to the limited amount of Sponsor tissue in my body. I was about to peg it, though, and then the fucking banshee appeared, grabbed me by the hair and dragged me to the roof to witness the destruction they had just wrought. Then I was shown The Truth.
‘The truth?’
‘Yeah, an amazing but terrifying trip back in time to the dawn of life on this planet. It felt instantaneous but also eternal – like I got to experience the life and death of every single organism that has ever lived on this planet – including every bacterium and virus.’
Warner continued to stare.
‘Another wine?’ suggested Alan.
Chapter Four
Thursday
(Third Eye)