Count Zero

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Book by William Gibson - Count Zero, page 35

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looked at Tally Isham through his round, rimless glasses.
"Hello, Marly."
Marly struggled to reach the trodes, but her artns were
made of stone. G-force, the shuttle lifting off from its con-
crete pad . . He'd trapped her here
"I understand," said Tally, smiling, leaning back against
the balustrade, her elbows on warm rough stone. "What a
lovely idea Your Marly, Herr Virek, must be a lucky girl
indeed .." And it came to her, to Marly, that this wasn't
Sense/Net's Tally Isham, but a part of Virek's construct, a
programmed point of view worked up from years of Top
People, and that now there was no choice, no way out, except
to accept it, to listen, to give Virek her attention. The fact
of
his having caught her here, pinned her here this way, told her
that her intuition had been correct: The machine, the struc-
ture, was there, was real. Virek's money was a sort of
universal solvent, dissolving barriers to his will
"I'm sorry," he said, "to learn that you are upset Paco
tells me that you are fleeing from us, but I prefer to see it as
the drive of an artist toward her goal. You have sensed, I
think, something of the nature of my gestalt, and it has
frightened you As well it should. This cassette was prepared
an hour before your shuttle was scheduled to lift off from
Orly. We know your destination, of course, but I have no
intention of following you. You are doing your job. Marly. I
only regret that we were unable to prevent the death of your
friend Alain, but we now know the identity of his killers and
their employers . .
Tally Isham's eyes were Marly's eyes now, and they were
locked with Virek's, a blue energy burning there.
"Alain was murdered by the hired agents of Maas Biolabs,"
he continued, "and it was Maas who provided him with the
coordinates of your current destination, Maas who gave him
the hologram you saw. My relationship with Maas Biolabs
has been ambivalent, to say the least. Two years ago a
subsidiary of mine attempted to buy them out. The sum
involved would have affected the entire global economy.
They refused. Paco has determined that Alain died because
they discovered that he was attempting to market the informa-
tion they had provided, market it to third parties . " He
frowned. "Exceedingly foolish, because he was utterly igno-
rant of the nature of the product he was offering
How like Alain, she thought, and felt a wave of pity.
Seeing him curled there on the hideous carpet, his spine
outlined beneath the green fabric of his jacket .
"You should know, I think, that my search for our boxmaker
involves more than art, Marly." He removed his glasses and
polished them in a fold of his white shirt; she found some-
thing obscene in the calculated hurhanity of the gesture. "I
have reason to believe that the maker of these artifacts is in
some position to offer me freedom. Marly. I am not a well
man." He replaced the glasses, settling the fine gold ear-
pieces carefully. "When I last requested a remote visual of
the vat I inhabit in Stockholm, I was shown a thing like three
truck trailers, lashed in a dripping net of support lines . . .
If
I were able to leave that, Marly, or rather, to leave the riot
of
cells it contains . . . Well' `he smiled his famous smile
again' `what wouldn't I pay?"
And Tally-Marly's eyes swung to take in the expanse of dark
lichen and the distant towers of the misplaced cathedral .

"You lost consciousness," the steward was saying, his
fingers moving across her neck. "It isn't uncommon, and our
onboard medical computers tell us you're in excellent health.
However, we've applied a dermadisk to counteract the adapta-
tion syndrome you might experience prior to docking." His
hand left her neck.
"Europe After the Rains." she said. "Max Ernst The
lichen . .
The man stared down at her, his face alert now and express-
ing professional concern. "Excuse me? Could you repeat
that?"
"I'm sorry," she said. "A dream ... Are we there yet, at
the terminal?"
"Another hour," he said.
* * *

Japan Air's orbital terminus was a white toroid studded
with domes and ringed with the dark-rimmed oval openings
of docking bays. The terminal above Marly's g-web-though
above had temporarily lost its usual meaningdisplayed an
exquisitely drafted animation of the torus in rotation, while a
series of voicesin seven languagesannounced that the
passengers on board JAL's Shuttle 580, Orly Terminus I,
would be taxied to the terminal at the earliest opportunity.
JAL offered apologies for the delay, which was due to routine
repairs underway in seven of the twelve bays
Marly cringed in her g-web, seeing the invisible hand of
Virek in everything now. No. she thought, there must be a
way. I want out of it, she told herself, I want a few hours as a
free agent, and then I'll be done with him . . Good-bye,
Herr Virek, I return to the land of the living, as poor Alain
never will, Alain who died because I took your job. She
blinked her eyes when the first tear came, then stared wide-
eyed as a child at the minute floating spherelet the tear had
become
And Maas, she wondered, who were they? Virek claimed
that they had murdered Alain, that Alain had been working
for them. She had vague recollections of stories in the media,
something to do with the newest generation of computers,
some ominous-sounding process in which immortal hybrid
cancers spewed out tailored molecules that became units of
circuitry. She remembered, now, that Paco had said that the
screen of his modular telephone was a Maas product

The interior of the JAL toroid was so bland, so unremarka-
ble, so utterly like any crowded airport, that she felt like
laughing. There was the same scent of perfume, human ten-
sion, and heavily conditioned air, and the same background
hum of conversation. The point-eight gravity would have
made it easier to carry a suitcase, but she only had her black
purse Now she took her tickets from one of its zippered inner
pockets and checked the number of her connecting shuttle
against the columns of numbers arrayed on the nearest wall
screen.
Two hours to departure. Whatever Virek might say, she
was sure that his machine was already busy, infiltrating the
shuttle's crew or roster of passengers, the substitutions lubri-
cated by a film of money . . There would be last-minute
illnesses, changes in plans, accidents
Slinging the purse over her shoulder, she marched off
across the concave floor of white ceramic as though she
actually knew where she was going, or had some sort of plan,
but knowing, with each step she took, that she didn't.
Those soft blue eyes haunted her
"Daren you." she said, and a jowly Russian businessman
in a dark Ginza suit sniffed and raised his newsfax, blocking
her out of his world.

"So I told the bitch, see, you gotta get those opto-isolators
and the breakout boxes out to Sweet Jane or I'll glue your ass
to the bulkhead with gasket paste...." Raucous female
laughter and Marly glanced up from her sushi tray. The three
women sat two empty tables away, their own table thick with
beer cans and stacks of styrofoam trays smeared with brown
soy sauce. One of them belched loudly and took a long pull at
her beer. "So how'd she take it, Rez?" This was somehow
the cue for another, longer burst of laughter, and the woman
who'd first attracted Marly's attention put her head down in
her arms and laughed until her shoulders shook. Marly stared
dully at the trio, wondering what they were. Now the laughter
had subsided and the first woman sat up, wiping tears from
her eyes. They were all quite drunk, Marly decided, young
and loud and rough-looking. The first woman was slight and
sharp-faced, with wide gray eyes above a thin straight nose.
Her hair was some impossible shade of silver, clipped short
like a schoolboy's, and she wore an oversized canvas vest or
sleeveless jacket covered entirely in bulging pockets, studs,
and rectangular strips of Velcro. The garment hung open,
revealing, from Marly's angle, a small round breast sheathed
in what seemed to be a bra of fine pink and black mesh. The
other two were older and heavier, the muscles of their bare
arms defined sharply in the seemingly sourceless light of the
terminal cafeteria.
The first woman shrugged, her shoulders moving inside the
big vest. "Not that she'll do it." she said.
The second woman laughed again, but not as heartily, and
consulted a chronometer riveted on a wide leather wristband.
"Me for off." she said. "Gotta Zion run, then eight pods of
algae for the Swedes." Then shoved her chair back from the
table, stood up, and Marly read the embroidered patch cen-
tered across the shoulders of her black leather vest.

O'GRADY - WMIMA

THE EDITH S.

INTERORBITAL HAULING

Now the woman beside her stood, hitching up the waist-
band of her baggy jeans. "I tell you, Rez, you let that cunt
short you on those breakouts, it'll be bad for your name."
"Excuse me," Marly said, fighting the quaver in her voice.
The woman in the black vest turned and stared at her.
"Yeah?" The woman looked her up and down, unsmiling.
"I saw your vest, the name Edith S., that's a ship, a
spaceship?"
"A spaceship?" The woman beside her raised thick eye-
brows. "Oh, yeah, honey, a whole mighty spaceship!"
"She's a tug," the woman in the black vest said, and
turned to go.
"I want to hire you," Marly said.
"Hire me?" Now they were all staring at her, faces blank
and unsmiling. "What's that mean?"
Marly fumbled deep in the black Brussels purse and came
up with the half sheaf of New Yen that Paleologos the travel
agent had returned, after taking his fee. "I'll give you
this . .
The girl with the short silver hair whistled softly. The
women glanced at one another. The one in the black vest
shrugged. "Jesus," she said. "Where you wanna go? Mars?"
Marly dug into her purse again and produced the folded
blue paper from a pack of Gauloise. She handed it to the
woman in the black vest, who unfolded it and read the orbital
coordinates that Alain had written there in green feltpen.
"Well," the woman said, "it's a quick enough hop. for
that kind of money, but O'Grady and I, we're due in Zion

Allergy Asthma Treatment - 92p1063 Ibm - ANIMALGARDEN AB - Garageport - Alveo

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   Saturday 11 February, 2012