"But what is that stuff?" Her father stared into the opened casket, his mouth twisted in distaste. "Smell like something foul."
"It's gel." She reached her hand down and touched it with her finger. "At least, it will be."
Long Joseph cautiously extended one of his own callused digits and tapped on the translucent material. "This is no jelly, or if it is, it's all dried up and nasty. This some kind of plastic."
Renie shook her head. "It needs to be hooked up properly. You'll see. When you run a very mild current through it, it gets harder or softer, colder or warmer, in any part of the gel you want. Then there's the micropumps," she pointed to the array of pinprick holes on the inside wall of the tank, "to adjust the pressure. And the processors, the computer brains of the thing, will sense whenever you push back against the gel—that's the output part. That's why it makes such a good interface—it can mimic almost anything in a simulation, wind on your skin, rock under your feet, humidity, you name it."
He looked at her with a mixture of suspicion and pride."You learn about all this stuff at that school you went to?"
"Some of it. I read a lot about this plasmodal process, because for a while it was going to be the next big thing. They still use it for other industrial stuff, I think, but most of the high-end computer interfaces now are direct neural connections."
Long Joseph stood up and regarded the ten-foot-long tank. "And you say that you put electricity in here? Right in this thing? In the jelly?"
"That's what makes it work."
He shook his head. "Well, girl. I don't care what you say. Only a fool climbs into a bathtub full of electricity. I won't get into something like that, ever."
Renie's smile was a little sour. "That's right. Papa. You won't."
It had been a very successful afternoon, Renie thought. With help from Martine, who had maintained her connection to whatever (no doubt quite illicit) source of information had brought them here in the first place, they had begun to understand how the V-tanks could be made ready. It would not be easy—Renie figured it would be several days' worth of hard going at least—but in the end, they should be able to make the things work.
The military had done more to help them than simply leave much of the equipment in place. The automated systems that had kept the underground location safe from intrusion—until now, anyway—had also kept the air dry and the gross machinery of the place in working order. Several of the tanks had still suffered damage from neglect, but Renie had no doubt that if they cannibalized a few parts, they could get at least one and perhaps more online. The computers themselves, which would supply the processing power, were hopelessly old-fashioned, but they were the biggest and best of their day. Renie thought that by a similar process of robbing Peter to pay Paul, they could get enough CPUs working that a software alteration or two—something else they would need the old hacker Singh to accomplish—would enable them to get the power and speed necessary to make the V-tanks perform.
She scraped her spoon in the bottom of the bowl, finishing off the casserole Jeremiah had made, and risked a small sigh of content. Prospects were still bleak, but they were far less hopeless than they had seemed a few days ago.
"Renie, we said tonight we would talk." Even !Xabbu's quiet voice echoed in the huge, empty dining room.
"We're just about out of food, for one thing," Jeremiah reminded her.
"There must be emergency rations here somewhere," Renie said. "This place was built during the first Antarctica war scare, I think. They probably made this place capable of being self-sufficient for years."
Jeremiah gave her a look of undisguised horror."Emergency rations? Do you mean meat cubes and powdered milk? Horrid things like that?"
"Do you remember what happened to you the last time you tried to use your card? You can only use cash so many times before someone notices, especially outside the inner city. Not that we have much cash left, anyway."
"So what does that mean?" He pointed to the casserole dish. "No more fresh food?"
Renie took a breath, struggling to be patient. "Jeremiah, this is not a holiday. This is serious business. The people we're after killed Doctor Van Bleeck!"
He gave her an angry, pained look. "I know that."
"Then help me! The whole point of being here is to give us a chance to get into this Otherland."
"I still think it's crazy," her father said. "Come all this way, all this work, just to play some computer trick. How all this going to help Stephen?"
"Do I need to explain it again? This Otherland thing is a network, an incredibly big and fast VR network like no other, and it's also a secret—a secret people will kill for. It belongs to the people who hurt Stephen and a lot of other children, the people who murdered Doctor Van Bleeck and probably fire-bombed our flat and got me fired from the Poly. Not to mention all of Mister Singh's friends who worked on it with him, and are now dead.
"These are rich people—powerful people. No one can get to them. No one can take them to court. And what would we say even if we got them there? All we have are suspicions, and pretty crazy-sounding suspicions they are, too.
"So we need to get inside this Otherland. If something about that network is the reason for what's happened to Stephen and other children—if they are using it to run black-market organ farms, or as the centerpiece of some kind of child pornography cult, or something we can't even imagine yet, some kind of political power play, or cornering the world market in something—then we need to get proof."
She looked around the table. At last, even her father was being attentive. Renie felt a rare moment of confidence and control. "If we can get a V-tank up and running, and if Singh can crack Otherland's network security, I'm going in with him. The tanks are meant to work long-term, with very little maintenance. That means there won't be much for the three of you to do once I've got my IVs and oxygen going, maybe just check on things every now and then. I think that !Xabbu alone should be able to do that."
"So what about us?" asked her father. "Just sit around while you playing in your jelly bath?"
"I don't know. I guess that's why we need to talk. To plan."
"What about Stephen? I'm supposed to sit here while that boy still sick in the hospital? That quarantine thing not gonna last forever."
"I don't know, Papa. Jeremiah's worried about his mother, too. But remember, these people don't hesitate to kill when they need to. At the very least, if you got caught outside you'd both get picked up and detained." She shrugged. "I don't know anything else you can do except stay here."
During the long silence that followed, Renie looked up to see !Xabbu watching her. He had a strangely abstracted expression. Before she could ask him what he thought, a beep from the wall speaker made them all jump.
"I have found some more information about the tanks," Martine announced, "and have downloaded it to the laboratory memory. Also, Sagar Singh called me to say that he has hit a 'rough patch' as he calls it, and says that you should not get up your hopes he will be able to help you with the tank software."
"What does that mean?"
"I am not sure. The security system is very complicated for this Otherland network, and it is not very much used, so he finds it hard to work without attracting attention. He says it is only a chance of fifty-fifty he will be able to break in."
Renie felt her insides sink. "I suppose we've never had odds much better than that with any of this. From the start."
"But he also said that if he can do it, you must be ready to go very quickly."
"Wonderful. So he won't be able to help us, but we have to get the tanks ready right away."
Martine's laugh was rueful. "Something like that, yes. But I will help as much as I can, Renie."
"You've already been more help than I can say." Renie sighed. Her buoyant spirits had collapsed, punctured by reality. "We all will do what we have to do."
"Martine, I have a question," !Xabbu said. "Is it true that the data lines from this place are shielded? That they
will not give us away if we use them?"
" 'Shielded' is not what I would say. I have routed them through various nodes which feed them through randomly chosen outgoing lines. That way, a trace will only follow them as far back as the last node, and there is no obvious connection from that node to the original source. It is a common practice."
"What does all that mean?" asked Long Joseph.
"So we can use the lines going in and out of here, even to ship data?" !Xabbu seemed to want something clarified.
"Yes. You should still use them responsibly. I would not call Telemorphix or UNComm and taunt them."
"God, no," Renie said in horror. "Nobody around here is going to ask for trouble, Martine. We already have enough."
"Good. Does that answer your question?"
"It does." !Xabbu nodded.
"Why did you want to know that?" Renie asked the small man after Martine had ended her call.
For one of the first times since she had known him, !Xabbu looked uncomfortable. "I would prefer not to say at this moment, Renie. But I promise you I will not do anything irresponsible, as Martine warned."
She was templed to push him for an answer, but felt that after what they had been through, he deserved her trust. "I didn't think you would, !Xabbu."
"If the phone lines are safe, I could call my mother," Jeremiah said eagerly.
Renie felt a heavy weariness. "I think that falls under the heading of 'asking for rouble,' Jeremiah. If they've managed to put a hold on your cards, then they've also probably managed to get a tap on your mother's phone line,"
"But that Martine said the calls couldn't be traced!"
"Probably." Renie sighed again. "Probably, But she also said don't ask for trouble, and calling a number that's almost certainly tapped is asking for trouble."
Jeremiah's face darkened in anger. "You're not my master, young lady. You don't tell me what to do,"
Before she could reply—and it would have been with some heat—!Xabbu spoke up. "Renie is doing her best for all of us. None of us is happy, Mister Dako. Instead of being angry, perhaps there is some other solution."
Grateful for his intervention, Renie followed his lead. "That's a good idea, !Xabbu. Jeremiah, are there any of your relatives we could reach through a public kiosk?" She knew that in Pinetown, among those who couldn't afford a regular dataline service, many people used the communal kiosks, and would fetch whichever neighbors were being called. "I doubt they'd tap every single kiosk near every one of your relatives. We haven't been declared public enemies, so this stuff has to be done fairly quietly."
As Jeremiah paused to think, his anger diffused, Renie smiled at !Xabbu, letting him know she appreciated his help. The little man still looked troubled.
"We have two tanks that are complete," said !Xabbu,
Renie turned from her inspection of one of the objects in question. She had been testing a handful of rubber-sheathed fiberlinks which hung from the tank's lid like the tentacles of an octopus dangling from a rock crevice. "I know. That way we have a backup if something goes wrong with the first one."
!Xabbu shook his head. "That is not what I mean, Renie. We have two. You are thinking that you will go by yourself, but that is not right. I have accompanied you before. We are friends."
"You want to break into this Otherland system with me? For Heaven's sake, !Xabbu, haven't I got you into enough trouble already? In any case, I'm not going in by myself—Singh's going, and maybe Martine as well."
"There is more to it than that. You are exposing yourself to more danger. Do you not remember the Kali? We have stood by each other, and should do so again."
Renie saw by his stubborn look that this would not end quickly. She let go of the snaky fibers. "But. . . ." She suddenly could not think of an argument. More, she realized how much better she would feel if !Xabbu did accompany her. She still felt compelled to make a token protest. "But who will take care of things out here if we're both online? I told you, this could last days . . . maybe weeks."
"Jeremiah is intelligent and responsible. Your father is also capable, if he understands the importance. And as you said yourself, there is not much that needs to be done except to monitor us."
"So it's 'us' already?" She couldn't help but smile. "I don't know. I suppose you have as much right as I do."
"My life, too, has been caught up in this." The small man remained serious. "I have made the journey with you willingly. I could not turn back at this point."
She felt suddenly as though she might cry. He was so stern, so grave, and yet no larger than a boy. He had taken on her responsibilities as though they were his own, seemingly without a second thought. That kind of loyalty was so strange as to be a little frightening.
How did this man become so dear to me so quickly? The thought bloomed with surprising force. He's like a brother—a brother my own age, not a child like Stephen who needs to be looked after.
Or was there more to it than that? Her feelings were confused.
"Okay, then." She turned back to the fiberlinks, afraid that the warmth in her cheeks might show, might send him some sign she did not wish sent. "You asked for it. If Jeremiah and my father say yes, then you and I go together."
"I still say you crazy, girl," her father said.
"It's not as dangerous as you think, Papa." She lifted the thin, flexible mask. "This fits over your face. It's not that different from what a diver wears. See, there's a place where it locks down over your eyes—that's so the retinal projection stays focused. 'Retinal projection' just means it shoots a picture onto the back of your eye. That's pretty much how you normally see, so it makes the visual input feel very real. And here's how you breathe." She pointed to three valves, two small, one large, that made a triangle. "This fits over your nose and mouth, a very tight seal, and the air is pumped in and out through these tubes. Simple. As long as you and Jeremiah keep an eye on the air mixture, we'll be fine."
Long Joseph shook his head. "I can't stop you, so I won't even try. But if something goes all wrong, don't you come blame it on me."
"Thanks for that vote of confidence." She turned to Jeremiah. "I hope you've been paying attention, anyway."
"I'll keep a close eye on everything." He looked at the wall-screen a little nervously. "You're just testing it now, right? You're only going in for a short while?"
"Maybe as little as ten minutes, maybe a bit longer. Just to make sure we've got everything hooked up properly." She stared at the taped bundles of fiberlinks stretching between the two tanks and the old-fashioned processors. "Keep a close eye on the vital function readings, okay? I've tested everything as well as I can, but even with Martine and her schematics, there are so many damned hookups I'm not certain about anything." She turned to !Xabbu. who was rechecking his own tank, connection by connection, just as he had seen her do. "Are you ready?"
"If you are, Renie."
"Okay. What should we do? Some simple 3D manipulations, like the ones I used to teach you back at the Poly? Those should be comfortably familiar."
"Certainly. And then perhaps something else."
"Like what?"
"Let us wait and see." He turned away to unkink mask connectors which had surely been unkinked long before.
Renie shrugged. "Jeremiah? Can you turn on the tanks now? The main power switches?"
There was a click and then a quiet hum. For a brief instant the overhead lights flickered. Renie leaned forward to stare into the tank. What appeared to be hard translucent plastic filling three-fourths of the tank turned foggily opaque. A few moments later the substance went clear again, but now seemed to be a liquid. Tiny ripples appeared in its surface, thousands of them in concentric whorls like fingerprints, but before she could make out the larger pattern, the ripples subsided.
"How are the readings?" she asked.
Jeremiah opened a series of windows on the wallscreen. "Everything is right where you wanted it." He sounded nervous.
"Okay. Here we go." Now that the moment
had come she was suddenly apprehensive, as though poised at the end of a high diving board. She pulled her shirt over her head and stood for a moment in bra and knickers, looking down from the edge of the tank. Despite the warmth of the room, she felt her skin go pebbly.
It's just an interface, she told herself. Just input-output, like a touchscreen. You let your father and his electricity-in-the-bathtub get to you, girl. Besides, this was going to be a lot easier than when they did it for real—no catheters, no IV lines, and only down for a short time.
She pulled the mask over her face, inserting the plugs into her nostrils and positioning the flexible bubble with its built-in microphone over her mouth. Jeremiah had already started the pumps: except for a faint metallic coldness, the air tasted and felt quite unexceptional. The hearplugs were easy, but it was a little more difficult to get the eyepieces centered properly. When she finally got them locked down, she lowered herself into the tank by touch.
The gel had reached stasis—skin temperature and the same density as her body, so that she floated, weightless. She slowly stretched out her arms to make sure she was centered. The edge of the tank was beyond the reach of both hands; she was hanging in the center of nothing, a small, collapsed star. The darkness and silence were absolute. Renie waited in emptiness for Jeremiah to trigger the initial sequence. It seemed a long wait.
Light leaped into her eyes. The universe suddenly had depth again, although it was an unmeasurable gray depth. She could feel a subtle pressure shift as the hydraulics tilted the V-tank upright to its working angle of ninety degrees. She settled slightly. She had weight, although not much: the floating sensation was replaced by a gentle sensation of gravity, although the gel could adjust that back to weightlessness or whatever else a simulation might call for.
Another figure appeared, hovering before her. It was a bare-bones sim, little more than an international symbol for humanoid.
"!Xabbu? How are you feeling?"
"Very strange. It is different from the Harness Room. I feel much more as though I am . . . in something."