A city down towards which the lunar clipper now swept for its final descent.

CHAPTER 32

The UEI corporate headquarters on the outskirts of Solstice had a relatively modest profile, just glass-block architecture tipped south to face the low sun. Once she was escorted inside the building, however, Stef glimpsed extensions underground, showy staircases like something out of the Titanic leading down to sweeping underground concourses.

Sir Michael King’s office was above ground, somewhere near the centre of the complex. The day was fine and bright, and the glass-walled offices were filled with the Arctic sun’s slanting light. Led by an aide, Stef was brought to a wide, airy room at whose very centre a single desk was set up overlooking some kind of pond, a smooth glassy surface that reflected the clear blue light of the sky. King himself sat behind the desk, she saw as she approached. In his late fifties now, heavy-set, his thick hair snow-white, King was famous and unmistakable. To one side another man sat, apparently relaxed, on an upright chair, a tall, slim, sober figure. They both had drinks on the desk before them.

To reach the desk the aide led her across an ocean of rich blue pile carpet marked with the UEI logo. Stef walked stiffly, trying to mask the gravity heaviness, the fatigue. It didn’t help that she had to skirt that central pond. Its clear water contained fish, she saw as she passed, big carp by the look of them, sleek golden forms that swam around and around. There was nothing in the pond with them, no fronds or reeds. They were like a virtual abstraction, Stef thought.

Both men stood as she approached, the visitor with a smooth, slightly unnatural grace, and Michael King heavily, his hands on the surface of the desk. He was wearing a kilt, she saw. The aide stood by, silent, discreet.

‘Major Kalinski,’ King said. He proffered his hand, which she shook.

‘Good to see you again, Sir Michael.’

‘Hell, just call me Michael. Everybody gets my titles confused since King Harold made me a thane. You know, I’m one of only three individuals to have been knighted both by the King of Angleterre at Versailles, and by King Harold of North Britain. And me an Aussie! But then they both lay claim to be head of state of what’s left of Australia . . . Do you like the kilt by the way? Wore it to my investiture in Edinburgh. So glad you’ve come. I do have another visitor, as you can see.’ He watched her closely now, as if anticipating her reaction. ‘Major Kalinski – meet Earthshine.’

Earthshine.

Stef, shocked by the unexpected introduction, reached out a hand, then withdrew it in confusion. ‘Sorry.’

The Earthshine avatar smiled at her. Tall, solid, dressed in a sober suit and collarless shirt, it, he, looked like a handsome fifty-year-old of the political class. On his lapel he wore an odd brooch, a disc of granite carved with concentric grooves, a single slash to the centre. When he spoke his accent was soft British. ‘Please don’t apologise.’ He reached for the desk with two hands; he picked up his own glass – but his fingers passed through King’s tumbler, where they broke up briefly into a flickering cloud of pixels. ‘I do use programmable-matter android forms sometimes, but I much prefer the holographic form if the bandwidth is adequate. All depends on the circumstances, of course.’

She tried not to stare. So the comedians back at Verne had been right, more than they knew. She realised that she had no idea what cavernous thought processes were going on behind this smiling-politician-type facade. Why was Earthshine here? Why was she here?

King said, ‘Major, as you just experienced, Earthshine isn’t really here with us at all. In as much as he’s anywhere, he’s down in a vast computer complex under Fort Chipewyan, right in the heart of the Canadian shield and as stable a geological site as you’ll find. Snug in his bunker, with layers of replicators building new components for him from raw rock, and feeding off Earth’s inner heat. And with multiple backups across the continent . . .’

‘Whereas you, Michael, live so modestly, here in your glass Versailles.’

King laughed easily. ‘Well, I’m not some silicon demigod like you. But I’m a salesman, and I have to impress the punters and the investors. Sit down, both of you, please. Do you like the fish, by the way, Major Kalinski?’

‘Are they artificial? Some kind of robot—’

‘No, no. But they’ve been gen-enged to photosynthesise. They need nothing but light, and some dissolved nutrients in the water, to survive. A new UEI initiative, photosynthesising animals, a new way to make more efficient use of the sunlight. Have to be careful about the post-Heroic protection laws, of course. The pond’s an extreme environment for them, but it makes a striking demonstration of their nature, don’t you think?’

‘It must be a little boring for them. The fish.’

He rubbed his chin. ‘Well, maybe. Hadn’t thought of that. Not much for them to do all day, swimming around in their little tank. Just like you, eh, Earthshine? I ought to do something for them, though, you’re right, Major. Maybe put in one of those little treasure chests. Make a note, Briggs.’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Oh – where are my manners? Major, would you like a drink? I laid on a treat for you. Briggs?’

The aide raised a kind of wand, and a section of the desk opened. A tray rose up bearing a selection of sodas, many in antique-looking classic-design cans, presumably not made of aluminium.

Stef shook her head. ‘Oh, not for me, thanks.’

King looked crestfallen.

Earthshine said smoothly, ‘I think you should force yourself, Major. He’s gone to a lot of trouble over this.’

‘It’s true,’ King said. ‘I remember on Mercury how you said the soda was always flat. Now you’re stuck on the moon and I guess it’s the same up there, right? I never did get around to researching a fix. I figured that if I dragged you all the way back to Earth, the least I could do—’

‘I appreciate you remembering, after all this time.’

‘I told you then, didn’t I? People are everything in this life. Contacts. You have to cultivate them. Remember the names of their puppies—’

‘But I’m not eleven years old any more, Sir Michael.’

Earthshine laughed out loud.

King grinned. ‘Speak your mind, don’t you? I remember that about you too. Oh, hell, if you’d prefer something else—’

‘No, no.’ She took a diet soda. It tasted more sour than she remembered, but it did bring back some memories.

King watched her astutely. ‘Takes you back to when you were a kid, right? You had a strange kind of childhood, didn’t you? I remember you lost your mother when you were very young. And then your father was always kind of distracted by his work, I guess.’

She shook her head. ‘In a way. But I understand. Now I’m distracted. So distracted I don’t have a family at all.’

‘I’m sorry for what became of him. The trial and so on.’

She shrugged. ‘It’s in the past.’

‘I, too, sympathise,’ said Earthshine. ‘Being a relic of the so-called Heroic Generation myself. No doubt they would lock me up if they had the chance.’

King winked at Stef. ‘Believe me, they’ve tried.’

Stef snapped, ‘Can we get on to the reason you brought me here?’

King looked surprised, then laughed. ‘Down to business, eh? You always were impatient, I remember that of you as well. You even got restless during the countdown for the launch of that first hulk, the I-One, didn’t you?’

‘Not restless. I was just a lot less interested in some big dumb piece of heavy engineering than I was in the kernels that powered it.’

‘Yes, the kernels. The objects you have devoted your life to studying, in the end.’

‘Strictly speaking, the physics behind them, yes. And that is what you brought me here to discuss, right? But look, Sir Michael. I’m no expert in international law. I do know that kernel science is supposed to be kept from the Core AIs.’ She hesitated, looking at Earthshine. ‘No offence,’ she said awkwardly.