Too Like the Lightning Page 20

  Digital eyes showed neither warmth nor judgment. “What do you see in that?”

  “I don’t know,” I answered. “Disrupting the cars hurts everyone. I can’t even say it hurts the Humanists and Mitsubishi most because the Masons and Cousins have more Members so use the system that much more. The only…” I choked. “The only Hive it doesn’t hurt is you.”

  They stared at me, both of them, exchanging silent data behind their vizors, though whether with one another or with distant members of their constellation I could not say. They were the only ones immune. They, aloof in their separate transit system, had no interest in the bash’ which pumped the lifeblood of six Hives through Earth’s broad skies; six but not seven. I told you, reader, that Utopia does not give up on dreams. When a Utopian dies, of anything, the cause is marked and not forgotten until solved. A fall? They rebuild the site to make it safe. A criminal? They do not rest until he is rendered harmless. An illness? It is researched until cured, regardless of the time, the cost, over generations if need be. A car crash? They create their separate system, slower, less efficient, costing hours, but which has never cost a single life. Even for suicide they track the cause, and so, patiently, blade by blade, disarm Death. Death, of course, has many weapons, and, if they have deprived him of a hundred million, he still has enough at hand to keep them mortal. For now.

  “You really thought it was us, didn’t you?”

  The itch of a tear on my cheek made me realize, for the first time, that, yes, I had. I had thought it was them, feared it was them, deep down inside where thoughts aren’t words yet. Relief’s catharsis washed over me. It wasn’t them. It was some viper from the familiar pit putting its fangs to use. Even if a constellation takes a viper’s shape to brave the pit, the starlight holds no venom.

  Aldrin had her U-beast stow its screen. “We’ve set watch over the tracker system. When next the hex is cast, we will know, almost instantly, and we’ll send in Romanova. The second strike will be the last.”

  I laughed inside. Next they will deprive Death of the Canner Device. I was right, thirteen years ago, not to even try to buy the real thing. The packaging could deceive long-term, but, if I had used the device itself, Utopia in anger would have had me on the second day. It isn’t only the Utopians who become a little more immortal with every blade they take away. It isn’t only they who delight in seeing unicorns and wingrays in the street, who gaze through Griffincloth into enchanting nowheres, and ride the shuttles to the brave, bare Moon, which their efforts make a little less bare every day. We all enjoy these wonders, all of us, all Hives, all Hiveless. Reader, you should not have barred Apollo Mojave from the Pantheon.

  CHAPTER THE FOURTEENTH

  The Interlude of the Interview with Retired Black Sakura Reporter Tsuneo Sugiyama, as Related by Martin Guildbreaker

  Mycroft Canner asked me to relate this interview, since they were at President Ganymede’s party at the time, and did not witness it. Mycroft is very worried that, after having a different guide for one chapter, the reader will be unwilling to trust a criminal again, so they asked me to state clearly from the start that I will author only this chapter, and afterward Mycroft will carry on.

  Mycroft insists that I introduce myself, my bash’, and family first, in accordance with period custom, though I note that Mycroft broke that rule themself. My birth name is Mycroft Guildbreaker. I do not know why the Porphyrogene J.E.D.D. Mason, during their sixth year, began to call me Martin, but I have now been known by that nickname for fifteen years. I am thirty-two years old, born July 2nd, 2422. The Confraternidomitor bash’ (in English Guildbreaker) is an hereditary bash’ founded in 2177 and unbroken since. My biological parents are Minister Charlemagne Guildbreaker Jr., and August Guildbreaker, currently Romanovan Praetor for the Masonic Hive and formerly personal secretary to Emperor Aeneas MASON. (Mycroft wanted to use “Empress” for female MASONS, but I find Mycroft’s gendered language disruptive, and have restored the customary ‘Emperor,’ both in this chapter and Mycroft’s earlier discussion of Agrippa MASON). Both my parents are descended from previous Emperors or their ba’sibs, one from Tiber MASON and the other from a sibling of Antonine MASON, while the other seven ba’pas in my birth bash’ are third-generation Masons at the least. I took the adulthood competency exam in my fourteenth year, immediately became a Familiaris of the Emperor, undertook my Annus Dialogorum, and, on its completion, became, on the same day, Mason, and Minister to the Porphyrogene (child of the Emperor), who was then four years of age. I studied at the August Polylegal College of the Alexandrian Campus, graduating at twenty-five, and have, thus far, held all the offices of the Cursus Honorum at the expected ages. The new generation of my bash’ was formalized when I was twenty, and contains seven members, including four ba’sibs born to the Guildbreaker name, and three friends from the Alexandrian Campus. One of them, from a Chinese Mitsubishi bash’, became my spouse, now Xiaoliu Guildbreaker, a Familiaris, Council to the Emperor, and proud to be the first person not raised in a Masonic bash’ to have joined the Guildbreaker bash’ in four generations. We have three children, Aeneas, Lissa, and An, and four other ba’kids born of our four bash’mates, though I confess myself something of a stranger to most of them, since I am a vocateur, and my duties to the young Porphyrogene mean that I spend more hours in their bash’ than in my own. Though it is illegal to speculate about such things, I know I have been widely discussed as a potential successor to the current Emperor; I place no stock in such rumors.

  A dissatisfied Mycroft now insists that I append something more vivid about myself, a scene or anecdote, to enliven this list of flat facts. If there is a keystone event of my fortunes, it was the night late in my fourteenth year when I exchanged my first adult words with my Emperor. I was waiting for my ba’pas in a small courtyard garden in the Imperial Palace. I was not aware at the time, but it was a grim day for Cornel MASON, since Familiaris Calavine Acton had just confessed to the Amador Treason, so Caesar was considering the first exercise of their Capital Power. This is also why my ba’pas were at the palace well past midnight. I remember a little fountain which was partly clogged, so that a faint spray shot sideways onto a bench. The damp of the stone felt good as I sat, though I was cold, because it made me very aware of my body. I did not notice the Emperor until they spoke.

  “What can a child of your age have to think about that makes you look so much more serious than I myself?”

  I remember, looking up, that MASON was at first just an immense dark shape, like a pillar merging the black of the Earth with the black of the sky, but, as I watched, the spraying water made glints of light spread along their suit, as if the stars and city lights of the capital were mingling and multiplying in the new space offered by this living being.

  Caesar’s words I remember verbatim, but my own stumbling responses I do not. I answered that I was trying to decide when to take the Adulthood Competency Exam and prepare for my Annus Dialogorum. I have no doubt that the custom will outlast these words, but to please Mycroft I will explain. When an aspiring Mason has passed the exam, and completed the initial courses in Masonic Law and Government, the initiate is clothed for a year in a suit of pure white, and undertakes the ‘Year of Debate,’ engaging a different person each day in discussion of what it means to be a Mason. After three hundred and sixty-six debates, if the initiate still wishes to join the Empire, there is no further test.

  “If you have doubt about becoming a Mason,” MASON answered, “the Annus Dialogorum will settle it.”

  I approximate my answer: “That isn’t it, Caesar. There’s no doubt I will be a Mason. I can’t wait to start speaking Latin, and using and understanding power, and serving you. But I know I’m very young. If I do my Annus Dialogorum now I’ll understand less than if I wait until I’m older, and learn less from it about what it really means to be a Mason. I want to be a Mason now, but I don’t want to waste the Annus, since I only get to do it once.”

  MASON’s next words were not to me, but t
o an aide, commanding that my ba’pas be summoned to witness my investiture as an Imperial Nepos. That very night—I will not say ‘in my honor’—Cornel MASON created the Ordo Vitae Dialogorum, “the Order of the Life of Debate.” Membership is open to all Masons, and marked by one white sleeve, a permanent invitation to engage the wearer in debate over the Masonic life, not for a year, but lifelong. I wear it proudly. That night too, the title of Familiaris was promised to me upon my passing the Adulthood Competency Exam, since, by Alliance Law, a minor may not subject themself to Caesar’s Force.

  I had long desired, even expected, these honors, but each in their course as I earned them, not all in one breath. I asked Caesar in some bewilderment why they granted me so much so quickly. This was my true investiture: “I have a use for you. You will be my instrument, my touch, my voice, my proxy while my work keeps me away, the one Masonic influence to counter all the others. You will teach and guide my son.”

  That night I met the Porphyrogene.

  * * *

  The first stage of my investigation of the Black Sakura and Saneer-Weeksbooth double break-in has already been related. At 17:57 UT on 03/24/2454 I requested permission to interview Tsuneo Sugiyama, preferring to conduct the interview in person rather than over the tracker system. I was invited to the Sugiyama residence, outside Kanazawa in the Ishikawa prefecture of Chubu, and arrived at 19:31 UT. The Sugiyama bash’house is a compact town house, three stories, pressed tightly on both sides by similar houses. Tsuneo Sugiyama is eighty-nine years old, female, one hundred and sixty-two centimeters tall, dark brown eyes, short grayish white hair, with distinctly yellowed front teeth, no other distinguishing marks. Sugiyama wore a Japanese-cut Mitsubishi suit, green, with a spring pattern of morning glories climbing bamboo. Eight strat insignia were visible: on the right wrist a Japanese nation-strat bracelet and Lune Cassirer Fan Club bracelet, on the jacket front a Journalists’ Guild clip and Gazetteer Gaming Club pin, on the shoes skiers’ buckles, on the front pocket a Shiba Inu dog breeder’s patch and an Ishikawa Region patch, on the left ring finger a Nagoya Campus ring, and on the right little finger a Great Books Club ring. Sugiyama offered me tea, and I accepted. I commenced formal interview at 19:37 UT. The following is a verbatim transcript, interspersed with my interpretative comments:

  * * *

  Sugiyama seemed unusually relaxed at the beginning of the interview, though not in a joking or jovial way. I did not understand the reason until later on.

  Guildbreaker: “Thank you for seeing me, Mitsubishi Sugiyama. You are aware this is being recorded?”

  Sugiyama: “Of course, Mason, of course.”

  Guildbreaker: “This is just an initial interview. There may be more detailed sessions later, once I’ve had a chance to act on your initial statement.”

  Sugiyama: “I know how interviews work, youngster.”

  Guildbreaker: “And you know I represent a poly-Hive investigation? If you report anything here which is pertinent to the security of a non-Mitsubishi, I’m legally obligated to inform the Praetors of the affected Hive, or the Tribunes’ Officers in the case of Hiveless.”

  Sugiyama: “I knew outside police would come. It doesn’t make sense for this to be handled among us.”

  Guildbreaker: “I am not police, I am a polylegal investigator. My team is handling the initial stages of this, since it affects all seven Hives at sensitive levels, so they want it handled delicately. Once we’ve secured the safety of the essential parties, the police will apprehend the actual offender.”

  Sugiyama: “You’re using Utopians for the grunt work, aren’t you? I know how it works. I covered the Mycroft Canner case as well.”

  Guildbreaker: “First, for the record, is it correct that you are not the author of the Seven-Ten list which was stolen from Black Sakura two days ago and subsequently recovered by the police?”

  Sugiyama: “That’s correct, but no one outside Black Sakura knew I wasn’t writing it this year. Seven-Ten lists are only popular when they’re written by big names, and with Black Sakura being only the second-most-important Mitsubishi paper, the Hagiwara-san knew our readership outside the Hive would fizzle if the public found out I wasn’t the author. That doesn’t excuse them trying to pass off Masami-kun’s work as mine, but I understand why they did it.”

  Guildbreaker: “How long have you worked at Black Sakura?”

  Sugiyama: “I first worked for them from 2382 to ’86, then did graduate school from ’86 to ’90, worked at Black Sakura again until 2411, freelance from ’11 to ’25, then took nine years off to write my books, started again at Black Sakura full time in ’34, and retired last week. That last run was nineteen years, nine months, eleven days all told.”

  Sugiyama answered this question with a speed which indicated that they had prepared their answers ahead of time. My flight to Chubu had taken forty-six minutes, and they had clearly spent that time preparing. Having worked so long as a reporter, Sugiyama was experienced with interviews, so it was safe to assume that, if they chose to lie to me, I would have no way to detect it.

  Guildbreaker: “You retired last week?”

  Sugiyama: “Unofficially. A lot of people invest in the paper counting on me as a draw, so we decided it was best to wait and announce at the end of the quarter when the contracts expired.”

  Guildbreaker: “Was this a planned retirement, or…”

  Sugiyama: “Oh, it was sudden. I know doctors keep telling me I have another fifty years left in me, but after seventy-two years as a journalist voker I decided it was time to pay more attention to family. Knowing me, I probably won’t be able to keep myself entirely retired very long, but it’s the plan for now.”

  Guildbreaker: “How far ahead had you planned this?”

  Sugiyama: “It wasn’t planned at all, totally sudden.”

  Guildbreaker: “What was the cause?”

  Sugiyama: “My grandchild Aki tried to kill themself.”

  Guildbreaker: “I’m sorry to hear it. Do you know why?”

  Sugiyama: “Aki’s lover killed themself. You see, Aki is already twenty-one, and had been living in a Campus seven years but hadn’t really gotten close enough to anyone to think about forming a bash’, except this one lover, a bright young Irish Brillist named Mertice O’Beirne. Had a marvelous voice, that kid, but a bit unstable, into gore photos and Canner-beat, but lots of potential. They were very close. Aki wanted the two of them to come join and continue my bash’ rather than forming a new one, since Aki’s always been close to me and my bash’mates, but Mertice wanted to stay in the Campus longer to see if they could find some others of their generation to make a new bash’.”

  Guildbreaker: “How did Mertice die?”

  Sugiyama: “Car crash.”

  Guildbreaker: “A car crash?”

  Sugiyama: “Yes, the one over Mexico City, nine days ago. You must have read about it.”

  Guildbreaker: “Yes.”

  I do not jump to conclusions, neither do I ignore data when it appears before me. Yes, murder entered my mind as a rational possibility. No, I did not have any special intuition of something sinister beyond the facts. I did note to myself that Sugiyama could not know where the stolen list had been found, so they had no reason to share my suspicions.

  Sugiyama: “It was Mertice’s own fault, the experts say. There’s this kit you can get, apparently, that makes the cars crash, scrambles the system. A Thrill-Ride Suicide Kit it’s called. It’s illegal in most Hives to sell something like that, but Humanists will insist on these things being art for art’s sake, whatever the buyer does with it.”

  Guildbreaker: “Then you believe the crash was suicide?”

  Sugiyama: “Like I said, Mertice was unstable, even attempted suicide once before. Mertice called Aki and talked to them over the tracker in the final minute when the car was flying out of control, horrible morbid stuff about death and eternity.”

  Guildbreaker: “Did Mertice specifically say it was suicide?”

  Sugiyama:
“You can get the recording from the cops. I don’t want to listen to it. Aki tried to jump off a building themself after that, and made another attempt at home the day after, but they’ve finally calmed down. I’m past being pissed at poor Mertice, the kid obviously needed help, but almost losing Aki made me think about how little time I’d spent with them, or with my ba’kids and bash’mates, since I’ve always been a voker.”

  Guildbreaker: “So you decided to retire?”

  Sugiyama: “That’s right. Maybe I’ll write another book. But for now I’ve spent all week with Aki and my bash’mates, and some from Aki’s birth bash’, just relaxing. Feels pretty right. I’m still going to do editorials now and again, but no more vokering for me. You’re a voker too, aren’t you, youngster?”

  Guildbreaker: “Yes.”

  Sugiyama: “Ever calculate what portion of your time you spend with the people you care most about?”

  Guildbreaker: “My bash’ are all vokers.”

  Sugiyama: “Ha. No hope for you then.”

  I considered the possibility that the tangent might be intentional evasion, and cut it off.

  Guildbreaker: “What about the Seven-Ten list? You were supposed to write it.”

  Sugiyama: “Yes, I was beginning the editorials when all this happened. My assistant offered to finish the editorials for me and publish the original list, but I don’t like to do things halfway.”

  Guildbreaker: “Your assistant, that is Masami Mitsubishi?”

  Sugiyama: “Yes. Brilliant kid, memory like an elephant and a razor sense of humor, I can see what Andō saw in them. But I told Masami-kun if they were going to write the list they should do it themself, their own list, start to finish. They’re young and it’s good to have young ideas out there sometimes. I told Hagiwara-san that Masami-kun’s status as a member of the Andō-Mitsubishi bash’ would be a draw in itself, but do editors listen?”