Read A Second Chance at Eden Online

Authors: Peter F. Hamilton

A Second Chance at Eden (21 page)

‘Yes, I see your problem,’ he said. ‘Your children won’t leave, your wife can’t stay. And you love them both. It’s a pretty fix you’ve got yourself in, my son, and no mistake.’

‘So what do you think? Should I keep on trying to persuade Jocelyn to have an implant? Or could you do it, convince her that the symbionts are harmless, that they don’t violate the Pope’s declaration?’

‘Alas, I’m not sure about that, my son,’ he said regretfully. ‘Not at all. Perhaps the Pope was wrong to concentrate on the affinity gene itself rather than the whole concept. I came here with the first batch of people to live in the habitat five years ago. I’ve seen how they’ve changed thanks to this communal affinity. It almost abrogates my role entirely. They don’t need to confide in me any more, they have each other, and they are totally honest about their feelings, affinity allows that.’

‘You don’t like it because it’s putting you out of a job?’ I asked, annoyed at him for what seemed almost like conceit. I wanted my problem solved, not his regrets about falling service attendance.

‘They are not turning from me, my son, rather what I represent. The Church. And not just Christians either; there is a small Muslim community in Eden as well, they too are turning from their teachings, and as a rule of thumb they tend to be even more devout than the old Catholics. No, affinity is taking people from God, from faith. Affinity is making them psychologically strong together.’

‘Surely that’s good?

‘I wish it were so, my son. But to have so much self-faith borders on hubris. The absolute denial of God. I cannot endorse what I see happening here. I urge you with all my heart to talk with your children again, try and convince them how ultimately shallow their lives would be if they were to spend them here.’

I stared at him for a long minute, too shocked to speak. What the hell could he know about affinity? What gave him the right to pass judgement? All my misgivings about the Church and its blind dogma were beginning to surface again. ‘I’m not sure I can do that, Father,’ I said levelly.

‘I know, my son. I’ll pray that you are given guidance in this matter. But I genuinely feel that Eden is being emptied of divine spirit. In His wisdom our Lord gave man a multitude of weaknesses so we might know humility. Now these people are hardening their souls.’ For a second his face showed an immense burden of regret, then he mustered his usual placid smile. ‘Now, before you go, do you have anything to confess, my son?’

I stood, putting on a front of steely politeness. Why is it that you can never manage to be rude to men of the cloth? ‘No, Father, I have nothing to confess.’

*

Did you hear all that?
I asked Eden when I was back in the jeep.

I did.

The intimation of immense calmness behind the thought mollified me. Slightly.
What do you think? Are we all using you and affinity like some kind of cephalic valium?

What can I say, Chief Parfitt? I believe the priest is wrong, yet he is a decent man who means well.

Yeah, and God preserve us from them.

What do you intend to do about your family?

Christ, I don’t know. I suppose you saw me and Hoi Yin?

Yes. Your association registered with my sensitive cells.

Association,
I mused.
I don’t think I’ve ever heard it called that before.

Wing-Tsit Chong explained that there are some human subjects which should be approached with extreme caution. Sex is one of them.

He’s certainly right about that.
I turned the jeep onto the road leading to the police station. There was a locker room there, I could have a shower, wash the smell of her away. That was probably what clued Father Cooke in. Nothing I could do about the messed up uniform, though. Unless I sent a servitor chimp sneaking into my bedroom.

Almost without conscious thought I could see the house. Jocelyn was in the lounge, watching the cloudscoop lowering on the newscable. Two servitor chimps were cleaning the street pavements a hundred metres away from the front garden. Sending one in unnoticed would be easy. My three spare uniforms were hanging up in a closet – memory of yesterday: Jocelyn hanging them up, taking care not to crease them.

No.

I wasn’t going to resort to that. But I wasn’t going to confess, either.

That wasn’t the answer.

Boss?
Shannon called.

Hello,
and I think I conveyed just a bit too much boisterous relief in my response. There was a slight recoil.

Er, I’ve cracked Maowkavitz’s remaining files, boss.

Great, what’s in them?

I think you ought to come out to the house and have a look for yourself.

On my way.
There was a suppressed excitement in her thought. I did a U-turn, and sent the jeep racing towards the plush residential sector on the edge of town.

Davis Caldarola greeted me when I came in through the front door. He was wearing very dark sunglasses, every move measured and delicate. Classic hangover case.

Sorry about yesterday,
he said humbly.
I’m not like that normally.

Don’t worry about it. In my job I meet too many bereaved people. You were remarkably restrained, believe me.

Thanks.

Where’s Officer Kershaw?

In the study.

Shannon was lounging indolently in the big scarlet chair, a very smug expression in place. Three screens were illuminated on the top of the console, each displaying a vast amount of fine blue text.

Have you been here all night?
I asked.

Almost. Someone was pretty insistent about wanting to know what was in her files, remember?

OK, enjoy your moment of glory. What have you found?

According to her access log record, the last fifty-two files she was working on contained Cybernetics Division records. They’re pretty comprehensive, too. She’s been downloading them from their computer for the last six weeks.

I don’t get it.
I gave Davis Caldarola a puzzled glance, meeting equal bafflement.
Did she tell you she was working on this?
I asked him.

No. Never. Penny never showed the slightest interest in the Cybernetics Division, certainly not after Wallace Steinbauer took over a couple of years ago. It was one of her jokes that ultimately she could replace all the mechanical systems inside the habitat with biological equivalents, and put the whole division out of work. She said they were a temporarily necessary anachronism. She always resented using the jeeps and the funicular railways.

I studied the screens again. The tabulated data was simply list after list of mechanical components and domestic items which the factories had manufactured, each one with an index cataloguing the date, time, material composition, energy consumption, quality control inspections, what it was used for, who requested it . . . ‘What did she want it all for?’ I mumbled.
And more importantly, why didn’t Wallace Steinbauer tell me she had been downloading all his division’s files? He claimed there was very little contact between him and Maowkavitz
.

Because he didn’t know?
Shannon suggested sagely.

Good point. The Cybernetics Division computer system was poorly managed. Could Maowkavitz download these records without anyone in the Cybernetics Division knowing?

Shannon pouted.
I certainly could. And Maowkavitz probably knew the system management command codes; she was a JSKP director, after all. Hacking in would be very simple for her.

OK. So tell me, Shannon, what is the point of acquiring this much data on anything? What can you actually do with it?

Data? Two things, sell it or search it.

Penny wouldn’t sell it,
David Caldarola said emphatically.

There’s nothing here to sell anyway,
Shannon said.
The actual assembly bay control programs use a form of flexible fuzzy logic which is quite sophisticated, they might be reasonably valuable to a rival manufacturing company, but they’re hardly exclusive. And in any case,
she waved an arm at the console,
they’re not here. These files are just manufacturing records.

Which leaves us with a search,
I said.

You got it, boss.

OK, genius, search it for what?

She flashed a smile, and started typing rapidly on a keyboard.
Her programs don’t have restricted access, only the files. So let’s see.
The data on the screens began to change as she called up various system menus. Her head swivelled round like a vigilant owl as she checked the ever-changing display formats. ‘Gotcha!’ A sharply pointed fingernail tapped one of the screens.
This is the one. According to the log record she was using it the day before she died.
Long columns of purple and green numbers fell down the screen. Shannon blinked, and peered forwards eagerly.
Holy shit. Boss, it’s a tracer program which looks for gold.

Gold?
I queried.

David Caldarola gave a small start. I only just caught it out of the corner of my eye. And he covered fast, turning it into a perplexed scowl. Interesting.

Yes,
Shannon said.
It’s a fairly basic routine; it just runs through the files and pulls any reference for gold.

And Penny Maowkavitz was using it to search the Cybernetics Division files? Which file has the same log-on time as the search program?

Way ahead of you, boss.
The screens were running through menu displays again, too fast for the data to be anything other than a fluorescent smear.

In my own mind I was starting to assemble a theory, segments of the puzzle manoeuvring round each other, slotting together. There was a strong sense of conviction rising, buoying up my flagging confidence. Progress was coming too fast for it to be mere coincidence.
Eden.

Yes, Chief Parfitt.

Tell me about the asteroid rock you digest; does it contain gold?

Yes.

And other precious metals?

Yes. Silver and platinum are also present in small quantities.

‘But everything is relative,’ I whispered. Eden digests over two hundred thousand tonnes of rock each year, that’s what Wallace Steinbauer told me. And has been doing so ever since it was germinated.

Davis Caldarola had turned even paler.
Do you separate these precious metals out and store them in the silos in the southern endcap?
I asked.

Yes.

What is the current quantity stockpiled in the silos?

I am holding one thousand seven hundred and eighty tonnes of silver; one thousand two hundred and thirty tonnes of gold, and eight hundred and ninety tonnes of platinum.

‘I never knew that,’ Shannon said. She had stopped typing to look at me in astonishment.

Me neither,
I said.
It wasn’t in any briefing I received. In fact, I doubt the JKSP board even knows about it. I expect the information that Eden could extract precious metals as well as ordinary ones was hidden away in some technical appendix that nobody ever looked at, that’s if Maowkavitz ever bothered to mention it at all.

Why?
Shannon demanded.

Well, Davis?
I said heavily.
Why don’t you tell us?

I didn’t know,
he blurted.

I don’t believe you, Davis. It was an extremely subtle deception; and one which must have been planned right from the very start. In other words, it was Penny Maowkavitz’s idea.

His jaw worked silently, then he slowly lowered his head into his hands. ‘Oh God, you’ve got this all wrong.’

So put us straight,
I said.

It was never for personal gain. It was all for Boston, everything she did was for us.

She was going to reveal the existence of the precious metal stockpile after independence, I said. Then it could be used for Boston’s buyout of JSKP shares.

You know?
he asked in surprise.

It seems logical
.

Yes. It was all so beautifully simple. Only Penny could be this elegant. Nobody has ever attempted to extract precious metals from asteroid rock before. Sure, precious metals are present in the O’Neill Halo asteroids, but the quantities simply aren’t large enough to warrant building specialist extraction units onto the existing furnaces. Given the mass of ore involved, it isn’t cost-effective. But in Eden’s case it costs nothing for the digestive organs to extract them from the ore. Like you said, she never told the JSKP board the metals were being automatically refined; and nobody ever thought in those terms. The board never expected to receive gold from Jupiter.

And what you don’t know, you can’t act upon,
I said.
Neat.

She just wanted what was best,
he insisted staunchly.

How many other people knew?
I asked.

Only the four of us. Penny thought that it would be a very hard secret to keep. People would be tempted.

I expect she’s right. So you and she knew; who were the others?

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