Dayworld Rebel

  “You’re a born gank,” Duncan said. “And I’m wasting my time arguing when I should be working out my plan.”

  “What plan?”

  “I should tell you so you can tell the ganks when you turn yourself in?”

  “Do you really have something in mind that has a ghost of a chance?”

  Her face was still doleful, but her voice had brightened a little.

  “Yes, but you have to promise you’ll stay with me and do your best to help me.”

  “What if I can’t?”

  Then, Duncan thought, I stone you and get on with life, whatever kind it is, bad or good.

  23

  By ten that evening, Duncan and Snick were almost ready to start the first stage of their plan. If, that is, a hope that they could think of the correct action to take when situations changed could be called a plan. These situations could not be foreseen, and it was very probable that they would fall headlong into one from which they could not unmire themselves.

  The initial steps would be easy. Wednesday’s tenants, a man and a woman, would stay stoned. Though the destoning power was applied automatically, the cylinders had manual controls. These would be set at OFF, and Sebertink and Makasuma would not come alive. Duncan would then use their ID cards to get all the information he could about them from Wednesday’s data bank. He and Snick, pretending to be these two, would have to call into Wednesday’s places of work and make excuses for staying at home. Fortunately, Sebertink and Makasuma were not employed in the same business and location. If they had been, their superiors might have thought it peculiar that both had called in sick.

  Duncan had already set up video-audio simulations of the man and the woman so that the persons who took the messages would see what they thought were Sebertink and Makasuma. Also, fortunately, Duncan had much experience at simming. At least, he had the knowledge swelling in his memory. Rather, it was in the memory of one of his former personae. During what would be, they hoped, a brief exchange of communication, they would have to control the postures, expressions, and voices of the simulations. Duncan would coach Snick in the techniques.

  “We’d better practice it for a while,” Duncan said. “You be the person at work first. I’ll manipulate the sims while you ask the kind of questions that might be expected. Then I’ll be the work-person while you operate Makasuma’s sim. This is just to learn how to work the controls. Tomorrow, we’ll sharpen up the sims’ images and go through several sessions before we call in. We’ll have to get up early, though.”

  Tonight, by just inserting the cards into the wall-slots and asking for a display of the three-dimensional images of Wednesday’s tenants, they would see on the screens all Duncan required to start “building up” the simulations. The first stages would be Sebertink and Makasuma greeting their bosses. After that, Duncan and Snick would have to improvise and do so swiftly and smoothly.

  “I wish we had simsuits,” he said. “That’d make it easy. We put on the face and body transponders, set the interface to register our body movements, expressions and voices, and these are translated into real-life outputs by the sims. The viewer at the other end of the transmissions sees the sims as if they were the genuine person. There’s nothing hesitant or jerky or awkward about the sims.”

  Snick indicated the controls of the machine set on a table in the hallway. “This isn’t supposed to be used for simulations. It’s not built for that kind of operation. Can we really fool the viewers?”

  “Yes, if the transmission is short enough, and the viewer is still dull from sleep. Or naturally dull and uninterested. If the viewer starts asking questions about Sebertink’s or Makasuma’s duties, some particular problem, we’re sunk.”

  “We’ll just have to make it short, pretend to be really sick.”

  “Yeah. And then we only have an hour or so to get out of here before a paramedic’s here to check up on us.”

  “I still think we should avoid all this and leave shortly after midnight,” Panthea said. “As you said, there are very few out then and the ganks might notice us. But the chances they’ll stop and question us aren’t high. They’ll probably just think we’re first-shift workers on our way to work. It can’t take us more than ten minutes to get to the bottom of the tower, steal a boat, and be gone.”

  Duncan did not reply. She had already heard his argument that this Wednesday was not going to be like those in the past. Tuesday’s government would have left a message informing Wednesday’s of the unusual events today. Not that Wednesday would need that to know that it had inherited a hell of a mess. Tuesday had just barely been able, according to the newspeople, to stone all the injured and the arrested. The street maintenance crews had been pressed into assisting the organics and the hospital personnel in that task. The courseways were littered and stained, and considerable damage had been done in stores and taverns. To clean up, Wednesday would be calling for volunteers. If the computers reported that not enough had responded, all citizens in nonvital jobs would be drafted. Sebertink was a clerk in a sporting goods store, and Makasuma was a hospital pathologist. Both would probably be recruited for the cleanup. That might be after they reported for work, but Duncan and Snick could not report in as these two. If they went out soon after Wednesday was destoned, they might be picked up by ganks and told to join the work gangs. The ganks would not wait until the quota for volunteers had been filled. Anyone out that early would be questioned about their jobs, and, if these were nonvital, would be assigned temporarily to the sanitary and maintenance department. Before that happened, however, their IDs would be checked.

  The only reasonably safe course for them was to go out when the streets would be filled with the S and M crews. Then they might be able to walk casually, or, perhaps, hurry as if they had an order to obey, and thus get through the ganks. But a gank might halt them and ask them what they were doing.

  Duncan was not looking forward to the run, but it would take about ten minutes if all went well. He would have preferred going down the staircases from level to level to reach the bottom of the tower. These were seldom used since most people preferred the escalators or the elevators. However, the staircases were UVS, under video surveillance. The ganks had installed these under the pretext that people might accidentally fall down them, and if this happened, the medics could be notified at once. That made sense to the public, which had voted in favor of having them located there. Duncan was sure that, this time, the voting results had been reported correctly.

  If he and Snick went down the stairs, they might get by unchallenged. It was highly probable, though, that they would be halted and asked to insert their IDs in one of the slots located every twenty feet along the staircase walls. The ganks would think that he and Snick were trying to duck out of the cleanup.

  He looked at the wall screen that showed the courseway outside. The bright lights revealed a street littered with trash but empty of people. Shortly after midnight, the sprayer nozzles in the recesses in the ceiling, sides, and floor of the courseways would spurt out water for two minutes. The water and the loose and light objects on the street and sidewalks would be carried to the drains. Then hot air would blow from the nozzles by the sides of the sprayer nozzles, and two minutes later, only a thin film of water, which would quickly dry, would be left.

  On that section of the courseway which Duncan could see, the spraying would take away everything except the handbag in front of the apartment door across the street and a dark stain on the sidewalk. It was then that he got the idea for getting to the bottom of the tower when he and Snick would be least observable.

  “Thea!” he said.

  Fatigued by lack of sleep and the hard hours of simulcasting, she must have nodded off. She sat upright in the chair, widened her brown eyes, and said, “What?”

  We’ll go down the steps during the spraying period. the cameras will be covered with water, and the ganks won’t even be careful to monitor them. They won’t expect people on the stairs then.”

  “W
e’ll get soaked.”

  “So we don’t have to take a shower.”

  “We can’t get to the bottom of the tower in two minutes.”

  “We’ll run like hell. We’re going down, not up.”

  “There’s still not near enough time.”

  “We’ll put grease on our asses and slide down the banisters. They don’t have posts blocking the ends at each landing. We can zip nonstop down them. All the way.”

  She laughed so hard that she slid down off the chair. He was somewhat angered or perhaps embarrassed, but he was glad at the same time that she was laughing. At least she was no longer gloomy.

  She remained sitting on the floor, her back against the chair, though she was no longer howling. After wiping the tears away with the back of her hand, she said, “You’re crazy! Sliding down the banisters for twenty stories! That’s what? At least three hundred feet straight down? Four hundred? Maybe five hundred feet on the banisters if you figure in the angle of the banisters to the vertical?”

  “Four minutes. Four minutes before the water dries off the lens of the cameras. The first two minutes, the water protects us against the friction. More, considering the time it takes for the banisters to dry off. Three minutes. And we’ll still have greased pants to provide lubrication. The grease won’t burn off fast while there’s water on the banisters. We could make it to the bottom in four minutes. Maybe less.”

  “And what if we lose our grip? Our hands’ll have to be greased, too, and the water pressure is very strong. If we fall…”

  She shuddered.

  “Damn it! I’m going to do it with or without you!”

  She got to her feet and looked up at him. She was half-smiling. Smirking?

  “You certainly don’t lack invention or imagination. Its awfully dangerous though.”

  “We’re not in worse danger right now?”

  She nodded and said, “I’ll do it.”

  He grabbed her, pulled her close, and hugged. “Great!”

  He released her quickly and said, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to embrace you. I was just so happy.”

  “For God’s sake!” she said. “I may not be in love with you, but I don’t think you’re repulsive, and I do think you’re admirable. I liked the hug.”

  He turned away quickly, not wanting her to know that the brief closeness had given him an erection. He went to the wall screen, gave it verbal instructions, and watched the display of the area map. The closest stairway entrance was three hundred feet to the left of the apartment door.

  The screen showed a man standing in front of the door. He reached out, and the doorbell gonged.

  Duncan felt a tremor. Skinquake.

  “Carebara! What in hell is he doing here, now? Any time?”

  He frisbied off his mind the first thought that came, that Carebara was a gank. If he were, at least two others would have been with him, and a patrol car would have been parked in full view of the door-monitor. Organics always tried to overpower visually the potential arrestee before making the physical clamp.

  Carebara looked as if he had not gone unscathed through today. Somebody had tied the antennae on his hat into a knot so tight that he had not been able to get it loose. His left eye was black and blue and shone with healing ointment. He did, however, look alert. More than that. Apprehensive. He kept turning his head to look right and left along the courseway.

  Duncan told the screen to open the door and strode toward the door. It swung in with Carebara so close to it that his long thin nose almost touched it. His hat came off to reveal short spiky hair, dark brown and as hard-looking as a beetle’s shell.

  “No doubt you’re wondering what I’m doing here?” he said. He stopped walking, his mouth open. Pointing at Snick with the hat, he squawked, “What’s she doing here?”

  Then, “I tried to get you first. You weren’t home.”

  “Two birds with one stone,” Snick said.

  “What’re you doing here?” Duncan said.

  “Your friend Ward has been arrested and stoned!”

  “Cabtab,” Duncan murmured. More loudly, he said, “Yes, we know.”

  “Then I don’t have to tell you the implications, possibilities, and repercussions,” the professor said. He looked around.

  “May I sit down? It’s been a hard day, and it’s not over by any means.” He glanced at the wall screen.

  “Forty-five minutes before midnight. We have a lot to do.”

  His pronunciation sounded peculiar. It was as if he had acquired a speech impediment since they had last seen him.

  Duncan waved at a chair. Carebara took it but stood up again almost at once. “No time to take it easy. In fact, it’s imperative and vitally necessary, life or death, we leave at once. I’ll explain on the way.”

  Duncan did not move. He said, “We don’t go until we get some explanation. For one thing, are you a RAT?”

  Carebara’s big green eyes became even bigger. “Of course, what else? Though I must admire your caution; it’s the best policy not to take anything for granted. Only…as of today, it’s not RAT. It’s Pooper.”

  “Pooper?”

  The professor’s face squeezed out annoyance.

  “No. It’s my Georgian accent.”

  He spelled it. “P-U-P-A. Pooper.”

  “Pupa. The form of the developing insect before it becomes a mature adult.”

  “Yes.”

  Duncan did not have time to ask him what the initials stood for and was not sure that he cared.

  “Let’s go as you are,” Carebara said. “Just bring along whatever’s in your bags. Your IDs too, of course.”

  “No,” Duncan said firmly. “We don’t stir unless we have some idea of what you have in mind.”

  Carebara glanced again at the digital time display.

  “All I can tell you is that Ward has been arrested and that it’s not likely that the situation can be rectified. Therefore, you two have to take refuge. I’ll take you to a place where you’ll be safe. I can’t tell you more because that’s all I know. Come on!”

  “You know more than that,” Duncan said. “For instance, it’s obvious you’re rather highly placed in RAT. I mean, PUPA. Were you assigned to watch us from the time we got on the train to L.A.? Ride herd on us?”

  “I’ll tell you about that on the way. If we waste time here, we may not be able to get to…where I’m taking you.”

  As if it was an afterthought, he reached into his shoulderbag, saying, “Oh, yes. One for each of you. I already have mine in place.”

  His hand came out of the bag and opened. In the palm lay two cone-ended and shiny black cylinders. Each was a quarter of an inch long and one-sixteenth of an inch wide. With his other hand, he picked up one and held it out. Duncan leaned close to look at it. Now he could see that the cylinder had two flattened-out sides.

  “Press a flat side against the skin just above the gum ridge,” the professor said. “It’ll stick there, won’t come loose until you push it off with your finger. The flat side will tear loose then, and you’ll swallow the powder that’ll spill out of the container. It doesn’t matter whether you have time to swallow all of it or, for that matter, any of it. A little bit will do the job even if it gets no further than the surface of your tongue. Here. Take one, but be sure to use your thumb and finger on the cone-ends only. Don’t touch the main body.”

  Duncan took one of the capsules and held it up a few inches from his left eye.

  Snick said, “Job? You mean by job it’ll kill us.”

  “I have one in my mouth, too. Here. Stick your finger in my mouth if you don’t believe me.”

  “Oh, I believe you have a capsule there,” she said. “But how do I know that yours is filled with poison?”

  “For God’s sake!” Carebara said. “You’re insanely suspicious! Why would I try to trick you?”

  “That is something we can’t know,” Duncan said. “You can’t blame us if we don’t trust anybody. We’ve no reason to do so, not w
ith all that’s happened to us. Tell me, just how do we get the capsule out of our mouth without breaking it open when we’re safe from arrest? I’ll be damned if I’ll keep it there for the rest of my life!”

  “You fill your mouth with a liquid that’ll be given you. It loosens the adhesive on the flat part. Hold the liquid in your mouth for a minute. The pill’ll come free then.”

  “Why should we commit suicide if the ganks catch us before we get to your safe place?” Duncan said. “They’ve got Ward. If they do find out he’s a RA—PUPA, I mean…” His voice trailed off. Then he said, “I see what you’re getting at. Ward doesn’t know you’re a PUPA. He’ll expose us but not you. And if all three of us are dead, then the ganks can’t trace beyond us and Ward. But they will investigate all your known associates. One of them, at least, maybe more, is bound to be a PUPA.”

  “That one will die, too,” Carebara said. “Look! We cannot waste any more time! Are you coming with me or not?”

  The professor must have orders to kill them here and now if Snick and he refused to obey orders. That was why Duncan had stayed very close to Carebara since he had entered the apartment. If Carebara put his hand inside his robe or his shoulder-bag, he would not get the pistol out very far. Or, perhaps, the professor had orders to get rid of them, and he did not intend to leave the apartment with them. Snick could be right. The capsules could dissolve immediately, and so would the lives of Duncan and Snick.

  Snick walked over to Carebara and removed the other capsule from his open palm. She dropped it into her shoulderbag. Duncan put his capsule into his shirt pocket.

  “We’ll go with you,” he said. “But—”

  “You’re ordered to affix them in your mouth!” Carebara said loudly and shrilly.

  “I don’t even know what position you hold in the organization,” Duncan said. “You may be my inferior in rank. We go without the poison in our mouths, or we don’t go at all.”