Drift pattern, p.23
Drift Pattern, page 23
Ish shrugs, taking a few gulps of his own meal. “Maybe he only destroys the ones that have something of worth.”
She lowers the plastic broth container to pick up a small scrap of paper. “No, see this? This is near Antarctica in 1832. There’s nothing there. I mean, why even bother? It’s Antarctica.”
Ish nods in agreement. “I could check to see if the untouched intervals have some resources that could be used for something.”
“Yeah, maybe. Though I can’t imagine what he would need and why.” She runs her fingers through her hair. “It just feels off. It’s like the reason for the destinations that he’s picking is just there staring us in the face, but I can’t see it.”
She halfheartedly sips her soup. “It really drives me crazy.”
After a brief silence, an idea pops into her head. “Wait a minute!” she exclaims. She scrambles to retrieve Ish’s handwritten transcription from the night before. “Is it possible that these are symbolic in nature?” Luci snatches up the paper from across the room and returns, waving it. “I’m not from around here, so obviously, these targets wouldn’t mean anything to an outsider like me, but . . . maybe they represent something to your culture.”
Ish crumples his now-empty meal pouch. “Represent what?”
“I don’t know,” she says, forcing the sheet into his hand. “Back in my time, when I was just a baby, there were some guys that crashed planes into these two buildings to make a statement. The buildings themselves were just really tall structures in New York City, but what they represented in the world at the time is what made them targets for the terrorists.”
Ish examines the paper with a newfound concentration.
Luci studies the intensity of his expression. “Do they mean anything to you?”
“Not right off, but—”
“But what?” Luci asks, attempting to conceal her impatience.
“Have you noticed that the list only has two junctures over the last three centuries on the continent of Australia, and both of those were during the Spanish-American War?”
“You’re right, no skip points after June of 1898,” she says, a little embarrassed that she overlooked this. “What do you think that means?”
He shrugs. “Maybe nothing. I just found it interesting, considering how they’re our enemy now.”
“Yes, definitely.” Luci nods as his eyes return to the page. “So, what does that tell us? We can’t skip to the Australian continent. What does that prove? Do you suspect it has something to do with those limber numbers that defy everything we know of DPM?”
He hands the sheet back to her and shrugs. “I don’t know. It’s probably nothing.”
Luci throws her head back in exasperation, letting out a loud sigh. Rubbing her closed eyes, she shouts at the curved glass ceiling, “Why can’t I figure this out?” She chides herself returning her gaze to Ish. “What is wrong with me?”
“We’ll get it, Luci. We’ll figure it out.”
Part of her appreciates the encouragement, but she resents it a little at the same time. “Just let me sulk a minute, will ya?” she asks, beginning to pace. “I’m not used to all of this.” She circles a finger in the air. “I’m not good at being under house arrest, or whatever you want to call it. I’m a prisoner here. You get to go home every night, but I stay. I stay right here. When I was in my twenties, there was a global virus outbreak called Covid-19 and everyone was quarantined for weeks and weeks inside their homes and that nearly drove me mad. I’m getting it here again—cabin fever—and that’s not good for the project.”
She stops walking and realizes that she’s pointing at Ish now. She lowers her hand slowly to her side. “Sorry. I know it’s not your fault, but it’s driving me crazy.” She slumps onto one of the stools, resting her elbows against the kitchen counter. “Back home,” she begins, “in my interval, if I got stuck on something, I could go to the gym.” Luci massages the back of her neck as she searches the empty counter before her. “I’d exercise until my body was exhausted and it forced me to rest. It’d reboot me. I’d wake up hours later, refreshed in my mind, and often solve the piece I was working on.” She springs from the stool. “Or bowling—the delicious geometry of bowling,” she says, pantomiming bowling.
“Bowls?” Ish asks quizzically.
She ignores him. “Or dancing—I love dancing,” she says with a slow spin that terminates in a curtsey before him. “You guys may not have bowling here, but I’m sure you dance, right?”
When he hesitates, she takes a step in his direction. “Dancing?” She pauses. “Maybe you call it something different here?”
Ish crosses his arms as he shakes his head. “I’m sorry, I understand exercise, but bowls and—”
“Dancing,” Luci blurts out, snapping her fingers while giving a shimmy. “You know, people getting together, moving about.”
Ish smiles, relieved. “Splash forums.”
“Is that what you call it?”
“It’s when people gather in here,” he says, pointing to his Viatorio. “It’s a community get-together. The entire city is welcome, in fact.”
“So it’s like an online thing?” Luci asks, confused. “You gather online for social events and things? I don’t think that we’re talking about the same thing.”
His face brightens, and there’s excitement in his voice. “Yes, we gather in V-space online and view a demonstration together with our pep avatars. This week’s demonstration is a man who’s going to paint a large orange wall blue.”
Luci shoots him a sideways glance and mumbles, “No, that’s not dancing—not even close.” Intrigued to learn more about the culture here, she tables the dance conversation for now. “Let me get this straight. At some point this week, everyone will log onto some virtual reality thing—”
“Through their Viatorio pep,” Ish offers.
“Right, everyone logs in to watch some guy paint a wall—not a mural or anything—just change it from one color to another?”
“From orange to blue.” Ish nods, oblivious to Luci’s ridicule. “Yes, since bots normally do city painting and restoration, it’s intriguing to view a human painting it. Since it’s virtual, you don’t get dirty at any of the events.”
“Seriously, that’s a good time in Relicus City,” she scoffs. “Going online to watch some guy paint a wall? You’re telling me that you people literally think that watching paint dry is fun?” She tilts her head, raising her eyebrows. “And I thought basic cable was lame.”
The remark is lost on him. “Well, it’s more than that,” Ish says, rubbing his chin. “It’s mainly a reason for people to gather. It’s rare for large groups to meet in person in Relicus, probably a safety thing, I guess. In fact, the chancellor’s statue unveiling a few days ago was the first time in a long time that a large crowd gathered in a physical environment, so we meet in V-space.”
Luci playfully taunts him. “But you’re not really meeting. The people going online to witness the event aren’t actually meeting in person, right? If you go there to pick up someone like a date, you can’t even touch them to hold their hand.”
He slides his hands into his pockets, leaving only his thumbs exposed. “We meet in person when there’s an official courtship period between two people.”
These odd wooing parameters fascinate her, and talking about something other than DPM is a refreshing break, so she continues. “How long is that usually?”
His shoulders rise. “I don’t know. A few days in person, though it can be as long as a week or more.”
“A whole week, huh? Wow.” Luci doesn’t attempt to mask her sarcasm as she wonders what the divorce rate is here, if there even is such a thing.
Attempting to justify the practice, Ish adds, “Well, the couple would’ve been to V-Space with the other person for a lot longer before meeting in person—maybe six months to a year—and then after a few in-person encounters, you oath.”
“You oath?” Luci asks. “You mean you’re married?”
He crosses his arms. “Yes, you oath by repeating the words.”
“Which are?” She’s enjoying making him squirm—this is fun. She finds him cute trying to balance the role of being an information source to her while relaying something that is obviously socially taboo to discuss with a member of the opposite sex. His uncomfortableness heightens her curiosity.
“Dr. Gaudiano, I can’t say them here . . . now, to you. It’s inappropriate. The words are to only be heard by one’s combi.”
“Doctor Gaudiano?” She smirks. “Why so formal all of a sudden, Mister Moyta?” In a playfully mocking tone, she does her best Scarlett O’hara impersonation. “Well, by all means, we don’t want to have you do anything . . . inappropriate.”
He doesn’t comment on this, but he shifts the conversation back to the main topic. “Three weeks ago, there was a good one—splash, that is. The performer-organizer stacked a bunch of poly foam cubes up very high. It took her about an hour or so to arrange them in a pattern. The cubes were different colors. When she was done, a brief intermission was taken, and we were allowed to virtually stroll around inside and on top of it. When the splash resumed, she knocked it down. It was very satisfying to view and participate in.”
“Sounds stupid to me,” Luci says. “Everyone knew that she was going to knock it over at the end?”
Still undaunted by Luci’s ridicule, Ish does his best to explain. “Of course. That’s why it’s so satisfying. The outcome is defined early, whether it’s painting a wall or something like with the blocks. So when it happens, it’s very therapeutic and you get to meet a lot of people in the city that you may not normally interact with.”
She shakes her head. “It’s just very different from the entertainment of my day like movies, sporting events, plays, books, streaming shows, museums, dining out.” She points at him. “And just so you know, your painting wall thing or foam blocks falling down . . . that’s not dancing, not even close.”
Ish presses his Viatorio and heads to the well basin.
“What’s going on?” she demands, trailing behind. “What are you doing?”
He produces his sip wand and bends over the bubbling liquid. “Learning about your dancing,” he says in a matter-of-fact tone.
“I don’t think that you—”
He holds his hand up to pause the conversation.
Luci makes a show of disapproval of being silenced and plops down on the sofa next to him.
After a minute or so of him using his WIBs to type in the open space before him, Ish says, “Okay, so our music here is mostly slow-moving tonal sounds designed to soothe the listener. I understand how organized sound would stimulate the brain’s reward centers in people. I also read how the chemical dopamine would be released to better control movement and coordination in a person.”
“Seriously?” Luci asks, raising a skeptical eyebrow.
He nods, still reading. “Rhythmic auditory stimulation also often results in the issuing of the serotonin hormones.”
Luci shakes her head and rises to her feet. “That sounds dreadful.”
“Is that not correct?” Ish asks defensively.
“I don’t know about all the serotonin and dopamine stuff.” She reaches for his hand to pull him up with her. It feels warm in her grasp. “I just know that it helps to clear my head, and since there are no bowling alleys around here . . .”
Ish stands with trepidation, and Luci notices how much taller he is than her. She guides him around the sofa to an area that’s not cluttered up with huge sheets of Macer’s unused sketch paper. “It’s about letting loose. It’s about having fun, feeling alive and having a good time. Here, I’ll show you.” Luci lifts his left hand with her right and places his other on her back beneath her shoulder blade.
He pulls his hands away. “But . . . there’s no musics.”
“It’s okay, I can hum,” she says, returning him to his dance stance again. This time, she interlaces her hands together behind his neck. “I’ll just show you some basic steps. Do you trust me?”
He nods but looks terrified. “I don’t think that I—”
She does her best to calm him. “That’s perfect. Don’t think. Let your body think for you. Let your feet and hips do the talking for you.” Luci moves to the rhythm of the tune she’s humming. “We’re just going to make a box pattern with our shoes: Left foot forward to second corner, right foot to the right to third corner. It’s like a math equation. Left foot joins right at third corner, right foot back to fourth corner, left foot to the left, returning to starting corner. Right foot joins left, and repeat.”
It’s clumsy at first, but her partner is a quick study. The awkwardness begins to wane to a manageable level. After a minute or so of this wooden exchange, Ish stumbles and abruptly pulls away.
Luci freezes in place. “What’s wrong? What did I do?”
His slowness to answer makes her self-conscious, and she wonders if she’s violated some social etiquette. “Ish, what is it? What’s wrong? What did I do?”
His expression is as if he’s miles away. Her heart skips a beat as she flashes back to the odd seizure-like episode with Macer.
Ish lifts his hand. “It’s alright. I’m okay. I just can’t see.”
She grabs his arm in a panic. “You can’t see? What happened?” she shouts. “What do you mean?”
His voice is calm as he wrangles free of her to reach his Viatorio. “It’s alright. Give me a moment to report.”
She lets her hands slide off his arm. “Report what . . . and to whom?”
“An alert has gone out,” he says as if reading or watching something that she can’t see. “There’s an attack.”
The words make her heart race. Luci spins around, scanning the room for signs of danger outside of the glass dome. “Is Gicul here?” she demands.
“No, it’s not him or L’inversione,” Ish says, groping for the sofa edge behind him. “It’s marauders from New Australia.”
For the first time since her house arrest, Luci is grateful to have a cybo stationed outside the front door. “What did they do, and why can’t you see? What did they do to your eyes?”
“I don’t know yet,” he answers, distracted by something in his virtual vision.
A sense of helplessness envelops her, making her wish that she had a Viatorio to know what is going on. “Is this a common thing from them?”
“No—well, not that often,” Ish says, exasperated. “Give me a minute to report in and get this turned off.” He states to some unseen entity, “Confirmation Code 1729.”
She forces herself not to bombard him with every question bubbling up in her brain.
A minute or so later, Ish softly grabs her shoulders. “Everything is okay now. It was just that some attack boats from New Australia were spotted on the edge of the city.”
She gulps. “We’re under attack?”
“No. The vessels were small, and they’ve been destroyed. We’re safe here. It was on the opposite side of Relicus, and they didn’t have a chance to do any damage before they were sunk.”
She tries to relax, but too many questions remain. “Were there any survivors, someone who can be interrogated?”
Ish releases his grip on her. “If there were, they’d be converted to cybos. But either way, they won’t be causing any more problems. You’re safe here.”
“Wouldn’t they question the enemy before that though . . . before making them into those cybo things? I mean, maybe there’s a connection to L’inversione and New Australia or something.”
He shrugs. “Yeah, I guess so. I’m sure there are protocols for getting information from them before any conversion.”
Luci wonders if the cybo stationed outside of the guesthouse door originated from New Australia. “It seems strange to have an imminent threat that no one knows anything about. Don’t you think that’s weird?”
With a puzzled expression, Ish asks, “What do you mean? The city’s security knows how to handle these things.”
“In my time, the government is held accountable.” She studies his face for a reaction. “The people are informed. There are oversight groups to ensure that human rights are not violated.”
“The right to do what?” Ish asks blankly.
She struggles about how to relay the concept of an organization like Amnesty International to him, choosing to save it for another time. “How did the Australians blind you?”
“Oh, that wasn’t from the attackers. That’s an internal security thing.”
She’s stunned by the revelation and the casualness of Ish’s statement. “Someone in the city did this to you? Doesn’t that bother you a little?”
He shakes his head slowly. “No, it’s alright, and I didn’t exactly go blind.” He sighs. “It’s just a red band covered my vision until I reported why I wasn’t where I’d normally be.”
“Sounds like you were blind to me,” she fires back. “If you can’t see, that’s blindness. Why would Relicus City do that to you?”
“Like I said, it’s a security protocol. Everyone in the city who wasn’t in their predesignated quadrant would’ve experienced the same thing. That way, if there’s anyone working with the enemy, they’re incapacitated.” Ish offers a weak smile. “But I’m okay. I just reported in and the system administrators confirmed that I’m allowed to visit the chancellor’s guest house and everything is fine.”
She squeezes the back of her neck and scoffs, “I can’t get over the idea that you’re okay with them taking away your sight. Why not just take the Viatorio off your ear when that happens?”
“Well, first of all, these can’t be removed very easily,” he says, tugging at the device affixed to his earlobe. “And if it was removed during a Red Out, it would leave the red band permanently blocking the wearer’s vision.”
When she gasps, he adds, “Not only that, but doing that could cause mild brain damage.”
“It seems like a huge strategy fail to me. A better plan is to allow Relicus City citizens to see if there’s an attack from an outside enemy. That just makes sense.”
