BOOK 2: COMMUNITY / CH. 12:GETTING THE MESSAGE

MONDAY, 8 PM

George was alone. The others had left, he'd raided the tins and other supplies that Sarah had pointed out to him, drawn up a list of groceries to be ordered by Security on his behalf, and washed up. It wasn't time for him to fall asleep yet, but he didn't want to watch or read anything. What he really wanted to do was buy Karen some flowers, but he'd been warned against using his I.D. on the net for a while. He wanted to give her some kind of gift. What could he give her? There wasn't any paper or card down here so he couldn't do a drawing even if he had the equipment. He supposed he could try poetry, but there was the problem that he wasn't good at poetry. It wasn't time for sleep, but he decided that that was the best thing to do. Maybe he'd miraculously dream of a poem.

He didn't. But at about midnight he woke up with a memory of a game he'd played with his great-grandmother: “Make me a picture of a bus,” he'd say, and she'd imagine a bus and pass the memory of it to him, then she'd laugh in delight as he sent it back having added waving people or wings flapping as it flew into the clouds. Yes, he could paint a mind picture for her. A fitting love-gift, he felt, for his much loved mind reader. Now, a flower, or a bird? Both? Maybe sleeping first was the best idea.

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MONDAY 5.55 PM.

Sarah hadn't been sure if Dirk and Eliza needed to stay on guard all night, or quite what would happen when they reached her house. No one had asked about extra rooms, though she had one. She was about to ask but then Dirk explained that there would be a surveillance van parked along the street.

“Do you have a camera covering the back of the house?”

“Yes, several views actually.”

“Great, could you authorise the van's computer to access those? In fact to any outside cameras, if that's OK.”

“Yes, I can do that. The house system's pretty good. Do you want it to just start streaming when there's someone in the frame?”

“My mother helped specify the system, Dirk. It was top of the line fifteen years ago,” Karen said, in response to his surprise.

“Well, in that case, that'd be great. If you could set it so your computer sends the van pictures once every five seconds or so, just so we know the house system is still functioning, and a full stream in case of anyone approaching or being where they shouldn't be, that'd be excellent.”

“And you're going to be in the van?”

“Yes, I'll be on standby the first half of the night, then I go off duty and Eliza gets the wake up buzzes if anyone does anything which triggers the van's suspicious computer.”

“And we hope that all we get is a good night's sleep and rumpled clothes,” Eliza said. “But if we could use your shower in the morning, that'd be a definite bonus.”

“Sure. Breakfast too? Say at seven-thirty? Only cereal, toast and marmalade, I'm afraid.”

“Now that's what I like about this sort of work! Civilized meals, showers! Luxury! See Dirk?”

“Yes, but it's not as exciting as criminal watching.”

“Adrenaline junkie!” Eliza accused.

“This sounds like a long running debate,” observed Karen.

“Yes. Dirk gets bored easily.”

“And Eliza doesn't like getting her fingernails dirty.”

“You're not calling me a wimp, are you?” Eliza asked, with a dangerous tone in her voice.

“Of course not.”

“Good,” Eliza said.

“Are you two married or something?” Sarah asked.

They both burst out laughing, then Eliza looked at her watch. “I win. Dirk, pay up!”

“Oh, all right. But I swear you engineered that.” Then he explained, “Eliza's my little sister. We get accused of being married so often it's become a standing bet. I win if it's after 6 pm on the first evening, Eliza wins if it's before.”

“Ah, all is explained.”

“Now, Sarah,” Dirk said, “I'm sure your house is secure, but I need to check it. Karen, please stay in the hall with Eliza. Can you let me in, please?”

“Sure. With or without the duress code?”

“Nice one, Sarah,” Eliza sniggered.

“Without, please!” Dirk said.

“Come on in then!” she said with a smile for the camera and opened the door.

[Karen, I'll set it up for you too. The duress code is that you fumble your key at the lock and drop it. That will call police at once if there is anyone the computer doesn't recognise as a friend with you. There's two no-duress codes — smile as you're letting someone in, or offer them a cup of tea once you’re inside.]

[Clever. What happens if you do none of those things?]

[If they're not a friend, then the computer watches you and whoever you came in with very suspiciously indeed, trying to work out if there's a threat.]

[Ah.]

“Eliza, while we're waiting for Dirk to check for assassins in the ceiling, or whatever he's doing, would you like a cup of tea?”

“Yes, please!”

“Me too!” Karen added.

Sarah went to the kitchen and thumbed the contact on the display. She did want to check up on Dirk. Making tea was a good excuse to get to the kitchen. Having quickly selected the option of watching visitors she turned on the tap to fill the kettle. Dirk was waving what she guessed was a bug detector over the walls of the room. It flashed a light as it went over a place on the wall where she knew there was one of her hidden cameras. He peered closely at it and made a note of it on his wrist unit. This wasn't something she expected to see happen. Why did he need to make a record of her security system's cameras?

[Karen, can you ask Eliza what Dirk should be doing? Pretend it's just from curiosity.]

[OK, what's he doing?]

[Noting down where the cameras are in the living room, right now.]

[Odd, I agree. I'll ask Eliza, you send a message to my mother, if you can, please.]

[Will do.]

Sarah quickly typed, “Just checking, just arrived at my house. Should Dirk be making notes on position of hidden security cameras in my house?” and flagged it urgent.

“What is Dirk actually doing?” Karen asked. “I presume he's not actually looking behind curtains for assassins.”

“No, he's checking that the security system is functioning OK.”

“All functions? I heard Mummy mention that it can do sleep gas release.”

“Ah. Maybe not that one.”

“Won't it take a while?”

“Not really. He's just pretending to write down camera positions. The computer should spot that as suspicious.”

“Ah. So he is offering himself as a guinea-pig for the sleep gas treatment?”

“I hope not. It makes him very grumpy when he gets gassed.”

Karen called mentally, [Sarah, she says he's doing something the computer should find suspicious. Checking the computer's on its toes.]

[Ah. Then maybe I shouldn't be watching. I'll just tell the computer to pretend I'm not.]

It was a little complex, but she managed it. She entered the control mode and saw that the computer was growing concerned about Dirk's actions, then she retroactively informed the computer that her terminal wasn't being watched by Sarah the home owner, but by Sarah the system manager. Sarah the home owner watching the video reassured the computer a little. Sarah the system manager didn't. The computer's concern turned to alarm, and she saw the call being triggered to the police station. The duty constable was suspicious too. A police car was dispatched, with two uniformed officers. Normal people didn't go around writing down camera locations when they visited a house. The constable queried the house computer. Where was the house owner or tenant?

The computer answered: Owner entered house. Owner entered kitchen. Person in kitchen is not Owner.

This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

The duty officer almost jumped to the wrong conclusion, that having been forced to admit someone, she'd made her escape. He almost hit the gas release button. It wasn't often he got to do that, and it would have made his day. Instead, he had a thought and queried the computer. Identify occupants of kitchen and their activity. The computer told him. System administrator, monitoring cameras. Drat. She hadn't left the building. So why had she made herself system administrator? Because she wondered what he was up to, maybe? And she knew that the computer would reduce its threat level if the owner was watching the monitor and didn't trigger any warning? So what was this? Was she unsure and wanted the computer to make the decision or was it a systems check without prior notification? If it was the latter then that'd be wasting police time, of course. It wasn't quite as good as gassing someone, but it scored something. Then the main computer finally came back with who was doing the probing. Someone named Dirk, other details withheld. Internal Security. Oh great. Well, it could still be suspicious. The uniformed guys could still collect some statements at least.

There was a call from his chief, passing on a message. He hadn't seen anything happen, because it didn't. The computer flickered up a message: connection reset. Re-establish connection, he automatically typed. The computer responded: What connection? No records of anything happening tonight. His boss repeated himself: “I know you guys on the duty desk keep score, but this is official. Nothing happened tonight. You didn't get a security alert from a house computer, you didn't almost get to gas someone from Security, and as long as it stays that way you're not going to get in trouble with everyone from the interior minister down. Understand me? Recall the car, tell them they've just had a response time test, and I want them come and have a cup of coffee and a doughnut when they're back to discuss it with me. It was all an exercise.”

“Yes, sir. Do I get a doughnut too?”

“I thought you were on a diet?”

“I thought maybe since nothing happened, the doughnut could vanish after the fact, just like the logs.”

“I like that logic. Meet the car and bring them up. Don't let them talk to anyone.”

“Yes, sir. Will do, sir.”

He made the call and met the car. The uniformed officers were somewhat confused. They all had a doughnut, even the chief. Who emphasised that nothing had happened, just a new pilot response test, and got them to read the bit in the official secrets legislation about what might happen to people who mistakenly claimed that something had happened when it hadn't. Doughnuts were much nicer, they agreed. Especially ones that hadn't officially happened.

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Maria called Sarah after her little chat with the police chief.

“Sorry Sarah, Dirk should have let you know what was going on, at least. Yes, he should have been doing that — tell him to show you what he actually wrote down, in case you're still worried. We've confirmed the system still works, and I've just had a nice little chat with the police chief. The police shouldn't be on their way any more, but they were. Oh, you can tell Dirk that he almost got gassed because he didn't tell you what he was doing. I presume that's why you were watching him as system admin?”

“Yes. Well, actually I started as me, then Eliza told Karen he was checking the responsiveness of the computer, and I realised that me spying on him would limit it.”

“Yes, I never did understand that bit of logic. Surely if you're watching it's because you're worried about what he's doing.”

“But then I could have informed the computer of that.”

“If you'd thought of it, and not been paralysed with shock or fear. Yes.”

“I get your point. Thanks for letting me know what was going on.”

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TUESDAY MORNING

The light streamed through the part-mirrored glass onto George, who was waiting in the meeting room. It gave him a view of the road, and therefore the approach of his beloved. It was a beautiful sunny day, and if Karen hadn't been about to arrive, George would have been having more second thoughts about being in this programme. Was her uncle really so dangerous? Oh, he realised, yes, he was. And his brain obviously hadn't been thinking clearly when that thought came to mind. How could he doubt that that man needed locking up or something more permanent?

He knew that there were very good reasons for it not happening, but if one of them were able to give evidence in court about all they'd seen the previous day, well... the death penalty was still available, despite the continued arguments surrounding it. Perhaps if enough conventional witnesses gave evidence, there would be grounds enough to use it in his case. He certainly didn't seem interested in rejecting his life of crime.

A transport stopped outside. No one got out immediately. He assumed that inside someone was checking with the computer whether it was safe for Karen to leave the vehicle.

A minute or so later they got out — Dirk, Eliza, Sarah, and most importantly, Karen.

Like George, she was wearing the same as yesterday. Fresh clothes not counting for so much compared with staying safe. But there had been a change - she'd arranged her hair differently, and George realised that either it was a coincidence or she must have picked up his favourite style along with the fact that he enjoyed looking at it. He was overjoyed to think that she might have done it for him. He hoped she liked his gift for her. He'd ended up waking early, unsure if he'd be able to make such an image still. He needn't have worried, but he had spent almost an hour tweaking and perfecting it. Really a few minutes would have been enough, but he'd done everything else he could think of doing in the little basement flat. Plus of course it was for Karen. He was slowly finding that attaching a label of ‘for Karen’ to almost any task made it something he wanted to do. It was probably love.

Dirk and Eliza walked either side of Karen to the inner door of the lobby, greeted George, then to his surprise, said goodbye and left as soon as the doors had closed behind her.

“They're not staying?”

“Nope, we pointed out to Mummy that Sarah's friend the computer can protect me better here than they can, so they can go and do something more useful than trying to work out what our relationship is.”

“Well, that's a relief. I was wondering how I'd give you something I've made for you if they were hanging around.”

“Oh? You've got me a present? How, where from? What is it? No, don't tell me, I love surprises. But you can't have bought it surely, and you didn't bring anything with you, so how have you got a present for me?” George could see different emotions — concern, excitement, curiosity making their way across her face. It was fascinating. Or at least he was fascinated.

“Well, how about I give it to you, and then you can ask the relevant questions?” he asked, teasing a little.

“Oh yes, please, they can't see in even if they looked, so you can bring it out now, whatever it is. I'm so excited, this is silly. Why am I acting like a ten year old, Sarah?”

Sarah laughed, “Maybe your emotions are beginning to catch up with George's hopes. George, do you want me to leave so you can give it to her in private?”

“Oh it'll be private enough, if you're here or not.” Then turning to Karen he asked formally, “Karen, will you allow me to hold your hands, so I can give you the gift I have for you?”

“Sure, George. Do I need to shut my eyes?”

George took her hands, well, wrists, since she was holding her crutches still. He could feel her excitement. [Not necessary, but it might help. Karen, my love, I made this {thought-picture} for you.]

It was beyond Karen's experience of the power to expect such a gift, that much was clear to George, but on the other hand, he didn't expect her reaction either. Her face lit with delight and the next thing he knew she'd dropped her crutches and was clinging to him instead, with her head buried in his shoulder. [Oh George, thank you, it's so beautiful, I can feel the love you filled it with, and the detail and everything! Oh George, thank you! I know I'm going to love you!]

“Well, that's some reaction!” Sarah observed, “What did he do to you, Karen? Slip you a love potion?”

“Not quite, Sarah. Did you know George paints? He's just painted me a picture from pure loving thoughts, it's really hard to explain. A flower which turns out to be a bird of paradise flying up to heaven. George, it's so beautiful, can I show Sarah?”

“Uh, I guess so. I made it for you, but yes, you can show Sarah.”

“Thank you. Next question. How? I'd love to be able to look at it again, but my visual memory is rubbish.”

“You can't remember it?” Sarah asked.

“If I ever had to do a photo-fit of my father, I'd get stuck just after saying he had two ears, two eyes and one nose.”

“Hair?” George asked, fascinated.

“Urm, yes, not black, not fair, sort of brownish I guess. Urm, don't ask me eye colour, please.”

“You don't know?” Sarah asked.

“Do I need to?”

“But you'd recognise it if there was an impostor?”

“Oh yes, I'm sure I would.”

“But you can't bring your mental image to mind?”

“I guess not.”

“Let me try something,” George said. [Spot the difference! {thought-picture} And try to send it back to me.]

“Oh, thank you, George, oh, that was different. The bird's tail went the other way. Urm, I'll try sending it back.” [{vague thought picture}]

“Oh Karen! I could just about tell it was a picture. I wonder if it's a learned skill. Maybe all you need is practice.”

“Maybe. Since I obviously can't show Sarah, could you?”

“It's OK if you don't want to, George. But I think John and I might want to talk to you about how you package up that picture. We got given a memory dump, and we'll need to pass it on sometime.”

“Mama Ng's legacy?” Karen asked.

“Yes,” Sarah replied. “Somehow she packaged that up very tightly indeed — so tightly we almost got our brains cooked just receiving it. Which makes me wonder — any heat from what George sent you?”

Karen checked. “No, nothing.”

“That makes sense, I think.” George said “My great-grandmother only had the power, I'm sure, and I learnt it from her.”

“But what Mama said about the evil ones being able to fill your mind with horrors makes sense, doesn't it,” Karen said. “I couldn't have stopped George from sending me that image, once he took my hand.”

“Or touched you anywhere, or even touched something you were touching. Which reminds me. George?”

“Yes?”

“I've not talked to Kate about this.” Sarah started “But would you be willing to help with the dull, boring experiments we're coming up with?”

“Urm, sure. I think the biggest danger for my stay here is absolute boredom, as long as yesterday is the one-off I hope it was. Compared to absolute idleness, anything sounds fun.”

“Great. I'll talk to Kate. I think we should plan to publish something soon, whatever it does to my wedding plans.”

“Why do you say that?” Karen asked.

“Because of yesterday.” Sarah said, “If we'd already published, there are people in hospital today, almost killed, who probably wouldn't have been.”

“But I don't see the link. If you'd published about the power, then how would that have stopped my uncle from trying to find out about the gift?”

“Your uncle was also telling us not to publish, wasn't he?” Sarah asked.

“Oh, you mean he couldn't have told you not to if you had already? But what about his threats?” George asked.

“I'm sure Karen's mother is taking them seriously.”

“I'm sure she is, but there are other things Mummy needs to take seriously too.” A look of worry crossed her face. “Which reminds me. I need to just go somewhere and check on something.”

“That's fine. Want to use John's office? He won't be in for a while.” She turned to George with a smile. “For some reason, Karen was keen to arrive early today.”

“Sarah, stop giving away secrets. Thanks for John's office.” Karen started hesitantly in that direction. “He won't mind?”

“No,” Sarah said. She didn't see the need to mention that it had been his suggestion when she'd told him they'd be in early. “I'm glad you came early, Karen, it gets lonely round here.”

“You could have called, George!”

“I didn't want to overstep the mark, Karen.”

[Oh George! Don't be silly. Whatever else you are to me, you're my friend. You know I like to talk.]

[I'm not used to all this, Karen, and I upset you yesterday, I'm sorry.]

[George! You're forgiven. I'm sorry, I was just misinterpreting everything. Now, let me check up on home and then we can talk, OK?]

[Of course. I love you, Karen.]

[I know, George, but I also like you saying it.]

Now in the peace of the office Karen focussed on the skin of the tunnel. There were people in it. She recognised some of them: soldiers from the embassy's small guard. No more digging there, it seemed. Then she focussed on her father's feet. There he was, in a meeting room, not at home, but another building there, she didn't recognise it. It was in that road there, oh, she understood, he was talking to the national government. All seemed well. She also checked her mother's skin, and then other friends, all seemed well there too. She breathed a sigh of relief.