The Docklands Light Railway metro traipsed its way to Canary Wharf. The damage to London was worse further east, more windows blown in, more street cleaning in evidence, but at least those distant plumes had now been extinguished. The city would recover from this, as it always did when attacked.
Recovering from the ‘meteorite hit’ was one thing, but what about further down the line? As well as his general concerns for the human system, Alan continued to ponder the significance of his final psynet visit. In attempting to uncover the Sponsors’ master plan he’d found some technical stuff on genetics and epigenetics, with indications that the Sponsors exclusively utilized the latter on the human system. Was this significant? He pulled out a phone and searched the term epigenetics on Wikipedia:
…Physiological variations caused by external factors (instead of changes in the actual DNA sequence) that switch certain genes on and off, affecting how cells read genes.
…Epigenetic changes can last through cell divisions for the duration of the cell's life, and also for multiple generations even though they do not involve changes in the underlying DNA sequence of the organism.
Biology had never been a strong subject for him. Maybe epigenetic tinkering worked better than full-on genetic engineering because it was more flexible and less risky should mistakes be made. Presumably even the Sponsors made mistakes from time to time.
Alan shrugged. There was enough to worry about without this. Like his imminent lunch with Warner. He returned the phone to his pocket as the metro approached Canary Wharf station.
Helen Warner’s offices occupied almost an entire floor of the Trenchard building – a prime Docklands location situated next to the HSBC tower. Alan was met at reception and immediately taken to meet Warner.
‘Alan! Thanks for coming! I thought we could have a quick chat, and I could show you a few things, and then we can take a nice lunch at the executive restaurant here. Trust me, the food is to die for.’
‘Okay.’
Alan was struck by Warner’s manner which seemed unusually upbeat and oddly friendly. He was used to superficial courtesy disguising relentless passive-aggressive goading – something he easily dealt with in the old days but a terrifying prospect now. Once the money-talk began he’d be in real trouble. Alan began to sweat, realizing how out of his depth he was. And a bad report sent back to GFS could even leave his job in jeopardy. Certainly he’d not made the best of first impressions with Jim Fairclough, no doubt coming across as a bumbling fool. So far the damage was minimal as this could all be explained by yesterday’s traumatic events but if a primary client such as Warner withdrew her business, citing Alan as the reason, then a sacking looked a very real prospect.
‘You appear to be rather tense, Alan, are you still shaken up by yesterday’s shenanigans?’
“Shenanigans!?” Odd choice of word, but this was good. He would milk that excuse with Warner as he had done with Fairclough:
‘Yes, I am a bit but, err, I’ll, you know…’
Warner nodded sympathetically as Alan’s speech trailed away to a silent shrug. ‘Of course. You’ll feel better after lunch, but first, let’s talk about your real predicament.’
‘Predicament? You said that on the phone, what do you mean, predicament?’
‘The Sponsors have been wiped out,’ Warner replied casually.
Alan was stunned. How on earth did Helen Warner know about them!? Knowledge of the Sponsors’ existence did occasionally leak out but it was always promptly dealt with and turned from a conscious knowing into a subconscious suspicion. Collectively this formed the basis of ufology, but that “field of study” was riddled with so much misinformation that it presented no threat to the Sponsors or their various operations. It was obvious, however, just from knowing Warner, and looking at the smug expression on her face now, that she was no UFO nut: she didn’t suspect this-or-that – she truly knew the score. And she’d somehow kept this hidden from the Sponsors, even though she fell into their spheres of influence via Alan and the work of GFS.
‘Are you still with me, Alan?’ Warner said, with a laugh.
Alan nodded, but did not reply. No wonder Warner was difficult for the Sponsors to deal with, if she knew this information and they didn’t know that she knew... Amazing!
‘Are you human?’ Alan blurted. Old Alan would probably have avoided asking that at this stage.
Warner guffawed: ‘Last time I checked! How about you?’
She really did know!
‘Yes, I am human!’
‘How are you finding it?’ asked Warner, ‘Being human, I mean.’
‘Err, difficult. Do you mind if I sit down?’
‘Of course not, where are my manners? Here, take a seat.’
Alan sat down on a comfortable sofa and Warner took the seat next to him.
‘So what do you know about the Sponsors?’ asked Alan.
‘Quite a lot. I have my own version of the psynet. I’ve been hacking them for a decade.’
‘You have the psynet!!??’
‘Well, my version of it. All stored on terrestrial computers etc.’
‘How did you keep that hidden from the Sponsors?’
‘By being very clever, and very very careful. The psynet told me how to do it. All I had to do was “surf” there without being detected and that aspect turned out to be rather easy. The psynet is actually wide open to a skilled hacker; their internal security is extraordinarily lax. They’re just not used to security threats. Between you and me I’m sure they are actually de-evolving! Well, they were. Now they’re all dead, haha!’
‘I knew you were smart, Warner, but this..?’
‘Warner? Don’t you mean, Helen?’
‘Err, yes, Helen, sorry. I’m not quite myself, remember.’
‘Don’t you mean you are quite yourself?’
Warner was playing him as she frequently had during financial briefings. But this was unprecedented. What kind of Bond villain was he dealing with here?
‘Mr. Harman was always a thorny problem, however. As a full telepath he could have busted me at any time.’
‘How come he didn’t?’
‘With much mental discipline and a bit of help from a perception filter.’
‘What’s that?’
‘It’s a skill humans can master, but it’s difficult. It just draws attention away from where you don’t want the attention to be i.e.: my mind. If anything, it works better on a Sponsor hybrid, than it does on a human. But Harman’s bogus “advice” still tended to get through subliminally as it was meant to. I would evaluate it later and sometimes go against it. Just to annoy them.’
‘Risky.’
‘Calculated.’
Alan shook his head. ‘So you knew I was a hybrid?’
‘Indeed. 0.3 percent. The most human of them all. That’s why I always liked you, Alan. And you were a bit of a loose cannon for them – I liked that about you even more! I can’t tell you how happy I am that you survived. I’m pretty sure you are the only one left standing. Though I am surprised. Whoever or whatever did this would surely not leave any loose-ends.’
Alan exhaled noisily and nodded. He had been saved and apparently fully repaired but not before the very moment of his death. There must have been a motive for doing that, even if it was just gloating.
Warner continued: ‘As you know, I read your statement, but it doesn’t quite add up, does it? I don’t suppose you’d care to expand upon it?’
Alan shrugged. Was it worth telling Warner everything that had transpired on the roof? He’d left that stuff off his statement because it was just too fantastical, they’d have locked him up in Broadmoor. Warner, on the other hand, would believe him. He remained silent.
‘Who did this, Alan?’
Ah, that was the direct question. Presumably what this meeting was all about. This was something Warner didn’t know, and it was no doubt driving her mad. That meant leverage.
‘Why should I tell you?’ Alan replied, in due course.
; ‘So you do know.’
Alan remained silent.
Warner smiled and stood up. ‘Let’s just kick this into the semi-rough for now. Here, follow me, I’ll show you my psynet.’
Warner led Alan through her busy office complex and on towards a heavy orange fire door situated at the end of a corridor. A swipe card granted access to the rooms beyond and there instantly came a roar of cooling fans. The air quality, now a soup of ions and ozone, noticeably deteriorated.
‘My mainframes. Enough computing power to simulate a universe!’
‘Really!?’
‘No, I was exaggerating. Follow me.’
Warner led Alan down banks of electronic wizardry to another door that Warner opened with a standard Yale key. The room beyond was bare, save for a seat and small desk on which sat a computer terminal. Warner closed the door behind them and the computer racket dropped away to a distant murmur.
‘Ah, that’s better,’ stated Warner with relief. ‘Take a seat in front of that terminal, please.’
Alan sat down, and Warner began to type in some commands.
‘Okay, you’re in. Is this like the psynet you remember?’
Alan gawped at the screen but didn’t recognize anything. Since the real psynet was a telepathic mind-net accessed purely via thought this came as no surprise to him; translating all that into a form a computer could decipher was a great technical achievement, but, frankly, hard to comprehend. There was a mouse, and Alan began moving the curser around with it. He still didn’t recognize anything.
‘Err, I’m stumped.’
‘Okay, well let’s look at the sort of material I’m sure you accessed before, the financial stuff.’ Warner clicked on lines of text and the pages altered. ‘There.’
Again, nothing. Screeds of text in English, but…
‘Ah!’ exclaimed Alan, ‘Yes, okay… I see now. I just needed a reference point.’
Alan was staggered. Yes, this was the psynet, at least the framework part of it. That was good enough, it contained all their secrets, all their know-how. The only things missing were the actual Sponsors and hybrids.
‘Incredible!!’
‘Thanks!’
‘You have downloaded the whole flaming lot!!’
‘Yes. Except it’s now static, as there’s no new data being added, obviously.’
Alan looked up at Warner with an expression of awe. Then suspicion. ‘What are you going to do with all this?’
Warner smirked: ‘To paraphrase Ken Livingstone: There is a power vacuum, and we need to fill it!’
‘We?’
‘Absolutely, Alan. You know this exists and you have some experience in using it. You also have experience of Sponsor techniques. The world is now a dangerous place, as I’m sure you have worked out. We need to keep the global financial system afloat, and we need to manoeuvre ourselves quickly to acquire hegemony over the global political system.’
‘Oh, is that all!?’
‘We can do it! We have this, not to mention my own company’s resources. But I do need you.’
Alan felt very flattered. ‘Are you offering me a job, Helen?’
‘I am. And you can forget about salaries or conditions. You will have power and be far more privileged than ever before.’
Alan returned his gaze to the screen and began fiddling with the mouse – pulling up new pages and beginning to feel comfortable navigating in this new format. ‘It’s going to be more difficult than before without an army of enforcers to do the heavy lifting,’ he remarked, idly clicking the mouse on anything that caught his eye.
‘You mean people like you?’ asked Warner, with a smile.
‘I mean the telepathic hybrids capable of full mind control. I merely had the power of suggestion, at best. And now I don’t even have that.’
‘We’ll have to set up alternative structures. Once we start acquiring real power we can get the bureaucracy of the nation states to do most of the work for us.’
Alan considered this. Warner was probably correct about the level of control and power that could be exerted from here. But only someone as clever as Warner could hold it together and keep it all utterly hidden. This went a long way to assuaging his various fears about the human system. He swung around to face Warner again:
‘Alright, I’m in!’ he announced with a grin.
Warner offered her hand and Alan shook it vigorously. ‘Fantastic, Alan! We can shape the world in our own image, now!’
‘Ooh, steady, Helen,’ replied Alan, ‘we just want a viable system, don’t we? Something generally meritocratic?’
‘Sure, that’s what I meant.’
Alan nodded. Warner may need to be watched to ensure her hubristic tendencies didn’t spin out of control, but this really could work. He suddenly recalled the psynet material on genetics:
‘What do you know about epigenetics?’
Warner looked blank for a second: ‘Excuse me?’
There is a lot about it on the psynet, presumably you have looked at it?’
Warner frowned: ‘No, actually. I have tended to focus on aspects that affected me and my business. What is this material?’
‘Oh, it’s a lot of techno-babble about how the Sponsors manipulated our genes in the early days of their operation.’
‘Let me see.’
Alan stood and allowed Warner access to the terminal. He watched for a minute or so as Warner’s cheerful optimistic demeanour slowly began to darken. She turned to Alan:
‘Forget what we’ve just been discussing – we’re all screwed!’
***