Slabscape : Reset Read online

  ‘Darling, it’s considered rude to stare at other people in the tube.’

  ‘Sorry,’ he said to no-one in particular. ‘Is it OK to check out the bubbles?’

  ‘Yes, that’s expected really – they’re privacy fields. There are people inside them who either don’t want to be seen or have things to do while they’re travelling. The images on the outsides are softAds and generate income for the occupiers if you watch them.’

  ‘SoftAds?’

  ‘Non-aware advertising. Just general stuff that isn’t targeted to you or anyone else. Helps pay for the cost of the privacy field.’

  ‘Can they see out even though we can’t see in?’

  ‘You can set it that way if you want but most people choose solids so they can watch sumes or snooze or whatever.’

  Dielle looked down. They were skimming above a billowing, misty surface.

  {[What’s that?]}

  [[Inertia absorption matrix. Protects the biomass in case of catastrophic failure. Instantaneously expands to fill the tubeway in the event of katabatic drive compromise]]

  Right, thought Dielle, that would be useful.

  The tube curved in the direction of a sky-high, endless wall of apartments and multiplexes.

  [[Entering Mitchell]]

  As he stared at the millions of windows, balconies and platforms, one of the apartment blocks detached from the wall and fell toward them.

  ‘Look out!’ he screamed, flinging himself to protect Kiki. But he couldn’t reach her. It was too late. He braced himself for the impact, incredulous that they could let a building fall onto the tube.

  The wall passed through him to reveal the interior of a large, tastefully furnished apartment. His point of view spun around the room and then up a wide, spiral staircase to a balcony with a spectacular view of an idyllic pastoral landscape. He heard a voice say: ‘Mountain Heights on The Wall, Seacombe side. The best way to end your day.’ After another swirling tour, the projection vanished. Kiki was laughing again.

  ‘What the hell was that?’ he spluttered.

  ‘I don’t know, dear. You should have seen your face! It must have been a hardAd. They’re targeted to your profile. I didn’t see a thing. What was it?’

  ‘An apartment called Mountain Heights. Looked pretty nice too.’

  ‘Mountain Heights? SideUp?’

  ‘Just said Seacombe.’

  ‘I bet. It’s DownSideUp, way down DownSideUp. It’s a dump. They’re always pushing that graveyard on newbies.’

  ‘Had a nice view.’

  ‘Well of course, darling. You can have whatever view you like but when you go outside you’ll find nothing but dreary boxed-in condos and sky-through-cracks. It’s strictly low rent. No-one wants to live on The Wall anymore - it’s dead. Anyway, you won’t be needing a place to live for a while, you’re coming home with me.’

  He liked the sound of that. They were sucked down into a narrow funnel, then abruptly pulled sideways into a deserted tube at right angles to the direction they’d been travelling before. This one had a dimly lit roof and, with no visual clues, it was easy for Dielle to imagine he was falling again.

  ‘CrosSlab joiner,’ said Kiki from behind. ‘Almost there now.’

  Another fast turn sent them back UpSlab and after less than a minute they came to a sudden but completely inertia-free stop beside a blue panel.

  [[Aux Renoir 92]]

  Dielle felt himself being pulled toward the vex and heard Kiki saying something about getting ready when he fell onto a soft, dark-red floor. He looked up at a tall, skeletally thin man with a long nose who was peering over the top of a lectern in a professionally disapproving manner.

  ‘Reservation?’

  ‘Hello Makepiece,’ said Kiki, walking through the vexit.

  ‘Mam’selle Pundechan, how splendid to see you. Is this gentleman with you?’ He said gentleman as if trying to remove something stuck between his front teeth with his tongue.

  ‘He’s not outsauced, Makepiece, he’s a reset. He only just got here.’

  The maître d’ jerked into action, brushing down Dielle’s hospital coveralls with a diaphanous device that had appeared from his sleeve while helping Dielle to his feet. ‘It’s an honour to meet you, sir! I’m sorry I didn’t recognise you. Mr Dielle, isn’t it?’

  ‘Do you know me?’

  ‘Only what I’ve managed to catch on the sumes, sir. Welcome to Aux Renoir quatre-vingt-douze.’

  Aux Renoir was designed to impress. The flourishing vine above their heads filtered a summer afternoon sun past luscious bunches of Chardonnay grapes, projecting a mottled pattern that looked random but wasn't, onto the cooled stone slabs. The glass-panelled rosewood door was an exact replica of a six-hundred-year-old door which had been used almost every night for over three years by the eponymous French impressionist painter before he'd had a three-bottle disagreement with a tableful of boisterous dinners, insulted the owner, thrown up over the cat and been physically ejected and barred for life. There wasn't a single customer-facing detail that couldn't be authenticated and historically referenced by Sis if Dielle had thought to ask – which he hadn't.

  ‘Would you like to dress in something a little more suitable for lunch, sir? Mam’selle, I assume a terrace view?’ He led Dielle by the arm toward a side vex. ‘I think you’ll find something to your liking in there, sir.’

  Dielle walked through the vex into a standard changing room with a full-wall multimirror, an upholstered bench and a cabinet full of clothes. He chose a tailored black suit over a white sweater that tingled when he touched it. Everything fitted perfectly. He looked up and realised he was looking at four sides of a stranger. He stopped and stared.

  ‘Hello Dielle,’ he said aloud. ‘You don’t look half bad.’ He checked his profile and straightened his long, dark hair with his hands. He had big hands; bigger than anyone’s he’d seen so far. He was tall, too – not quite as tall as the stick man outside, but tall enough, he thought. Tall enough for what? he wondered. He took another look at himself and smiled. ‘Not too shabby,’ he said.

  Kiki was waiting for him. ‘Oh darling, you do look handsome! You are going to be such a big hit!’ She gave him a quick peck on the cheek. ‘You go along with Makepiece, dear; I’ll get a frock from home.’ She hurried into the changing room while the maître d’ led him through a series of sumptuously carpeted corridors, past some private rooms, to a terrace under another verdant canopy. Beyond the terrace, a broad waterfall plunged down a rock-face, forming a light, prismatic mist around its base. Rich aromas wafted from the kitchens, triggering previously suppressed glandular secretions. Food! he thought, with relish.

  The table was laid with sparkling glasses and polished cutlery on a crisp, white cloth. A basket of freshly baked bread was placed by his right hand as the maitre d’ gently adjusted Dielle’s chair and a waiter poured scintilleau into a tall, iced glass. Not too shabby at all, thought Dielle. He looked round as Kiki walked onto the terrace and his heart skipped two beats then raced to catch up. She was wearing a simple light-blue dress which flowed down almost to the ground and moved to a rhythm of its own. The dress fitted neatly around her firm waist and breasts and left her arms bare all the way up to her delicately sculpted shoulders. A sweeping, broad-rimmed hat shielded her face from the bright light above. Kioki Sypher-Marie Pundechan knew how to make an entrance, especially when she was planning on using the recording later. Dielle sprang out of his chair.

  ‘Are you leaving?’ Kiki asked, concerned.

  ‘No, why?’

  ‘Then why are you standing up?’

  Dielle looked confused. ‘To . . . er . . . I don’t know.’ He sat down quickly. ‘Nice dress. So, do you live near here?’

  ‘Oh no, only very wealthy people live around here. It’s very exclusive. I live quite near Saint Vincent’s actually.’

  ‘But you said you were going to get a dress from home? You’ve only been a few minutes.’

  ‘Oh I see! No, I said
I was going to get it from home, not that I was going home to get it. I just had it emtied here.’ Makepiece fussed around Kiki to get her seated and muttered something to her. Dielle was looking confused.

  ‘M.T. means matter transmitter. Don’t you remember them? They were invented on Earth before we left.’

  There was something about this that started to ring a bell for Dielle but he couldn’t pin it down. ‘Matter transmitter. Maybe we called them something else? You can send stuff from one place to another, like your dress from home?’

  ‘Yes, or the clothes you’re wearing now, for instance. Sis emtied some into the closet as you walked into the changing room. She knows your sizes of course and the location and genre. We use emties for everything. You even have a few dozen of them implanted inside you.’

  ‘I do? Where? What do they do?’

  ‘Just ordinary health stuff mainly. They get rid of stuff you don’t need, put in stuff you do, monitor stuff, regulate stuff.’

  Food and wine arrived at the table in a flurry of activity that interrupted Dielle’s train of thought.

  ‘Now, seeing as this is your first meal in your new life and it’s a special day for us,’ said Kiki. ‘I wanted to make sure you had a special lunch. Everything here is of the highest calibre. Aux Renoir is my favourite French restaurant in Mitchell.’ She was holding herself straight as if making a speech. Makepiece was hovering in the background being formal and attentive. Kiki held up her wine glass and the deep red liquid caught a highlight from the waterfall. ‘This is real wine made from real grapes, in the Aux Renoir group vineyards in The Valley. It’s a ’21 vintage.’ Dielle lifted his glass and was just about to throw the contents down his neck but Kiki held his arm. ‘A toast dear, we must first lightly brush our glasses together and celebrate the moment. It’s a tradition. Look at the waterfall, dear, isn’t it wonderful?’

  Dielle looked at the waterfall, but he didn’t have anything to compare it to. Kiki clinked their glasses together and looked at the waterfall too. ‘The First!’ she said enthusiastically.

  ‘Yeah, and hopefully not the last!’ Dielle replied and took his first taste of wine in a very, very long time. Now that, he thought, he did remember. Kiki was laughing again.

  ‘Not the last! That’s fantastic!’

  Dielle rediscovered the exquisite pleasure of mixing a fine wine with the laughter of a beautiful companion. He smiled inside and out.

  ‘You know, Kiki,’ said Dielle as a silent waiter waived something mesmerising under his nose, ‘this is one hell of a spaceship you have here.’

  The food was, as advertised, spectacularly good. Course after course was expertly prepared and beautifully presented. Dielle ate it all with gusto. Each new taste was an experience better than the last, every smell and texture a new discovery. Here he was, in a wonderful place with a great menu, a new set of clothes and, most importantly, a charming partner who filled the time with lighthearted chatter about the food, the chef (who she knew well), the history of her dress (an antique), how she acquired it (something to do with a bet that Dielle couldn’t understand) and how the dress animation worked (choreographed by a long-dead artist). He hardly had a chance to say anything at all, which was fine by him. The new-born in paradise knew nothing more than this moment and that was enough for him.

  As they left the restaurant to much bowing and grovelling from the staff, Dielle asked Kiki if the whole thing was free.

  ‘No dear, the food here is lookadatplus expensive – but don’t be concerned, I’ll make sure we positivise the transaction. You can keep the suit, too. I think it looks rather good on you.’ She took Dielle’s hand and pulled him toward the tube vex. ‘Come on! Let me take you home. My treat.’

  In less than the time it takes to draw breath, Dielle found himself in a dimly lit privacy field with Kiki kissing him passionately. He had no sense of movement but he guessed that they were currently falling at an insane speed.

  ‘You were absolutely great, my darling!’ said Kiki, taking off her dress to reveal a form-fitting, black one-piece. ‘Ah! That’s better. I love that dress, but all that wriggling around is dicing irritating after a while.’ She giggled and pushed him over backwards. The privacy field instantly deformed, creating a soft bench that absorbed his fall. She was kissing him again, now sitting on top of him. Wow! he thought, this is even better than the food! He was getting excited, and he didn’t need to bother his patchy memory to know what was happening. Kiki moved around a little and her face changed from a happy smile to a wide-eyed look of amazement.

  ‘Oh darling! You are advanced! You’re not supposed to be ready for that yet!’

  Dielle looked down and recognised an old friend. ‘I think I’m ready now, nurse.’

  Ten minutes later, the privacy field dumped two sweaty, naked bodies onto the floor of Kiki’s uptown, DownSideUp apartment. Kiki had the body of an athletic young woman. Athletic and loud. If Dielle hadn’t had a meal in 360 years, he hadn’t had energetic sex in a lot longer than that and his body had been returned to its prime. He relearned the meaning of abandon. Several times.

  After an impossible-to-subjectively-measure period, they prised themselves apart and lay on their backs, breathing hard. Dielle looked up. There were two towels on a low chair just within arm’s reach. He handed one to Kiki, her glistening breasts rising and falling with the effort of her breathing. The chair silently moved away and defaulted.

  ‘Wow!’ gasped Kiki. ‘I have never, ever, ever had sex that good with a real man! I knew you’d be great! I just knew it!’ She got onto her knees, still panting. ‘Come on! The plunge pool’s ready.’

  Dielle looked around. ‘Shit! We left our clothes in the privacy field.’

  ‘No problem. Sis will have emtied them to the wardrobe by now. And we don’t use that word anymore, darling.’ Her perfectly re-formed bottom disappeared around a corner. ‘Come on!’

  nine

  He woke alone between silky sheets and scented pillows. The shower and plunge pool had led to some fabulous water-enhanced sex, after which they’d passed out exhausted on Kiki’s huge bed. A real bed, not a sleep field. He stretched the long muscles of his pleasurably sore back and smiled. Food was great, sex was great, the bed was great and life just kept getting better and better, he thought, curious to see what the new day would bring.

  He picked up a navy and burgundy striped robe with deep sleeves from the morfit by the bed.

  [[•]]

  {[What was that?]}

  [[Voice message from Kiki]]

  He tried to recall his eye training.

  {[Deliver]}

  [[‘Hello darling, I had to go out for a while. Make yourself at home. If you’re hungry just ask Sis, or if you want to go and explore the local form, ask Sis where Jenny’s is. You’ll like it. I’ll ping you when I’m coming home. Remember: Sis can tell you anything you want to know. Later darling!’]]

  He padded into the lounge and absorbed the pervading feeling of peace and understated quality. The dark flooring felt warm and pleasant to his bare feet. In the middle of the large room a semicircle of embedded high-backed couches surrounded an animated floral arrangement on a low, black plinth. Three of the walls were transparent panels revealing, through overhanging leaves, a slatted deck with steps leading down to a large piazza. It was light outside.

  {[Time?]}

  [[4:35]]

  {[Morning or afternoon?]}

  [[Those terms are meaningless here. Seacombe has no day/night cycles and therefore no mornings or afternoons. The nearest night section is The Strip which is 90 klicks DownSlab from here. You are now almost halfway through the SlabDay]]

  Right, he thought, of course. He had to start asking the right questions – or maybe just talk to Sis and see where a conversation led.

  {[I’m thirsty]}

  [[Food prep area behind you]]

  An opening behind him hilighted. Inside, copper-coloured pans and utensils hung from a canopy above a multiform worksurface that floated
in mid-air. Four high-stools sat under the side nearest the door and the wall behind was covered with a patchwork of curved panels and display cabinets. The room was subject to continuous bio-filtering which generated a tongue-tingling sensation of hygiene. If he had had the misfortune to have been a free-floating unicellular organism, he would have been crash-emtied into one of Slab's particle recyclers and separated into his component atoms as he crossed the threshold. Fortunately for him, he had lots of interdependent cells and several billion of them needed re-hydrating.

  {[Can I have a cold drink?]}

  [[What would you like?]]

  He didn’t know what anything was called. {[What do you recommend?]}

  [[Cooler]]

  {[~?]}

  [[Cooled MT. Blue light]]

  One of the cabinet panels was outlined by pulsating blue light. The panel slid open as he approached it, revealing a tall glass filled with a muddy-looking iced drink.

  {[Do you have control over everything in here?]}

  [[Define control]]

  {[Do you flash the lights and send drinks and so on?]}

  [[If you require it, yes, but you ultimately have control over that requirement]]

  That’s not particularly comforting, thought Dielle, very privately.

  {[And can you do that with everyone’s apartment throughout the entire spaceship?]}

  [[••]]

  {[For almost 32 million people? All at the same time?]}

  [[••]]

  {[And, you do all that and simultaneously control every single tube passenger’s movements, all the floating buildings, all the life-support systems and everything else that goes on in this place?]}

  [[••]]

  He hesitated, staring at the cold mist drifting from the glass and wondered if he should feel scared. Sis was everywhere and controlled everything down to the smallest detail. Sis was inside everyone’s head and knew virtually everything about them. Sis had absolute power and Dielle had a bad feeling that absolute power might not be a very good thing. He could easily let paranoia take over. He could feel its dark presence hovering nearby. He shrugged. So far, everything was just fine. He was going to assume that Sis had his best intentions at heart until something convinced him otherwise.