The Stream Read online

  ‘I’ve no idea,’ he replied, tersely. ‘It wasn’t like this twenty years ago, but lately pure neurological research has gone out of fashion. Hence I’m now employed here as a neuro-psychologist, treating psychological disorders that have a diagnosable neurological basis, rather than my previous role as a researcher.'

  ‘That’s interesting, are there a lot of people with psychological problems that you can trace to a direct neurological issue? I’d have thought that was pretty tough to do,' I said.

  He seemed to relax a little. 'We see a small but steady stream of people through here.' He smiled briefly. 'Um, no pun intended. To be honest the vast majority of people we see just have problems with their Tap configuration. It’s usually a simple job to stimulate the realignment of some connections using targeted nanoviruses. Sometimes the original Tap just doesn’t correctly evolve with the individual as they mature, and just needs to be reminded to sort itself out.'

  'Is that type of Tap configuration issue linked to HOME deaths at all?' I asked, with sudden hope.

  He paused. 'That’s very interesting and astute question. Why do you ask?'

  'HOME deaths are the topic of the report I’m writing for Geraldine. I’m really looking at the death rates and looking for patterns in the deaths. I just wondered if there was any link here,' I said.

  'Honestly, I’m not sure,' he replied. 'I actually don’t think so from what I’ve seen so far, although I’ve only been directly involved in a few HOME deaths. It’s another area I wanted to study in more detail, but was told in no uncertain terms that funding or support would not be available. Talking to colleagues at other institutions, they’ve had the same response to requests to research the field. It’s very frustrating, so I’ve not had a chance to do more than monitor what I see out of passing interest. I don’t believe there is a link however, HOME deaths are too catastrophic and sudden whereas the type of issues I see are gradual degradations. I’d love to study it in more detail though.'

  ‘Let me see what I can do. It sounds as if your interests and mine might well align here. I’ll need to get this initial report out of the way, but I might be able to persuade Geraldine to sponsor a research project into this area,’ I said.

  ‘Thank you, that would be amazing. I’d just about given up hope,’ he said.

  ‘No promises at this stage, but I will do what I can,’ I said. As someone who’d suffered the same frustrations, I felt obliged to do something, especially as this did seem related to the work Geraldine had set me.

  As I spoke, I was distracted by an odd shadow behind him - except I realised it wasn’t a shadow. It wasn’t on any surface, it was a darkness in the air itself just behind him. It swirled slightly, like a dark mist, but then faded away.

  Mauro obviously saw my distracted glance. ‘What’s up?’ he asked.

  ‘I, I’m not sure. I thought I saw something behind you, like a shadow in the air,’ I replied, realising how stupid that sounded.

  He looked round behind himself, but by then there was nothing to see.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ he said. ‘It’s probably just an artefact of these automatic lights in here. They cast odd shadows and often flicker on and off when they shouldn't. They're falling apart, just like everything else around here.’

  ‘Ah, OK thanks, sorry,’ I said, feeling a bit embarrassed. I wasn’t convinced though, that looked odd.

  Shortly afterwards, I took my leave after the usual pleasantries, still feeling a bit unsettled. That was quite an eye opener though. You think you know all about the world you live in, but there are dark spots hiding around the corner if you just take the time to look. It probably helps working for a Decemvir of course which seems to open many a door. The fact that neuroscience has issues with funding in the same way as my historical research has got me thinking too.

  It’s only a few days since I was wondering why Geraldine had employed me, as I didn’t really have anything significant to do. That was until I got the call from her at the weekend, and she set me this research task. I really think Geraldine knows more about this than she’s letting on. I’m nearly ready to send off my first report to her, although it’s a bit shorter than I’d like. I’d hoped to be able to make a better first impression, but I don’t want to pad it out with vague suspicions and false conclusions. There’s something scary about the pattern of recent HOME deaths though. It’s not just the number of them, but there are odd groupings, and it was only late last night that I noticed there seems to be a correlation between HOME deaths and the level of people’s immersion in the Stream. Yes, I know that correlation and causation aren’t the same things, but I thought it was worthy of further investigation.

  Given what I’ve found out, I think I’ll review the pool recording of the day Geraldine called to see if I can discern anything more from what she said. Then I must crack on, complete my report and send it off.

  Pool: Kofi Albus - 20th Quintilis 227PD

  I knew it was going to be an interesting day from the moment the notification appeared on the back of my eyelids. I was lying there deciding whether to get up at the time. If only I'd known how strange the day would be, I might have rolled over and go back to sleep.

  I had a message waiting in the Stream from Geraldine Mander, asking to meet me this morning. Normally she keeps weekends sacrosanct and doesn’t disturb us minions, so I guessed it must be important.

  Yes, that Geraldine Mander, Decemvir and one of the ten most powerful people on the planet. She’s been my friend since childhood, and now out of the blue, my boss. I’ve only worked for her for a few weeks though, and it still all seems fresh and exciting. There I was, an unimportant historian whose career was going nowhere, becalmed in the backwaters of academia. My research had been blocked time and time again by a lack of ability to get grants; and if I was honest, lack of interest from anyone other than myself. It was an unexpected turn of events to get the summons from Geraldine after all this time, to put it mildly.

  I’d first known Geraldine many years ago, back when we were children at school together. We’d been with each other through some difficult times while coming to an acceptance of who we both were. I supported her through her transition, and she helped me as I worked out who I really was. None of this was a big deal to anyone else, but to us it defined our lives when we were young.

  Despite all that, we fell out of regular contact when we went off to different universities. It’s too easy to let friendships drift apart at that age, no matter how close we’d once been. However, my ego wasn’t big enough to assume she’d still think of me from those halcyon days - but she did. She’s still not fully explained why she selected me for such an ill-defined role in her department of the Decemvirate, but who am I to complain?

  I’ve no idea what my historical expertise could be of the remotest use to a Decemvir. But hey, it’s given me a new lease of life. After my divorce and dead-end career, I needed to regain some purpose; I definitely have that now. I can’t say I’ve worked out what that purpose is, but it’s a start, and I’m going somewhere again at last. Even if it is a Saturday morning.

  It was a lovely, sunny day outside and not too hot for once. As Geraldine didn’t want to meet for a couple of hours, it seemed a good chance to take a leisurely stroll into the office to get my brain into gear. I took my time getting up, pulling on my usual office caftan after a quick shower, and having my standard weekend breakfast of cassava and eddoes. It’s funny how some habits formed in childhood stick with you through life. Then I was ready, so I set out into the warm dry air, wandering slowly through the artificially green park and taking the long but scenic route to the office. The park was largely deserted this morning, other than the occasional fitness freak and pet owner.

  I couldn’t help but try to fathom out what Geraldine might want today, and whether it had anything to do with why she’d recruited me. I can only assume it does, but who can tell? Obviously, I’d not forgotten about Geraldine since we’d lost touch - it would be hard to with he
r being so often in the public eye, even without my childhood memories. My mind wandered far and wide over those memories of Geraldine, so much so that I didn’t really remember any of the walk to work. Suddenly I was nearly at the office, and wondering what was awaiting me. Only one way to find out.

  Geraldine greeted me at the door, which was even more unusual.

  'Nothing for you to worry about, so don’t panic,’ she said, smiling. I remember her saying the same to me regularly when we were kids. She was obviously trying to put me at my ease.

  ‘I just wanted to chat over a few things away from the pressure of a normal working day,’ she continued. ‘I’m conscious of the fact that I haven’t properly explained why I asked you to work for me, the small matter of running the world keeps getting in the way. I know I’ve kept you busy while you’ve been settling in and finding your way around the department, but I have a longer-term research task for you that I think you’d be ideally suited for. It’s why I recruited you, as well as the fact that it was good to have an excuse to renew our friendship. Let’s get a cup of coffee, go into my office and then we can discuss it.'

  At last, I thought as I followed her in. Geraldine had a natural way about her that put you at your ease and inspired respect - she always had, even as a teenager. However, it had grown over the years with her experience, giving her a friendly, confident demeanour.

  'Please sit down,' she said as we entered her office. It was a light, airy room, with glass walls, desk and chairs. It suited her 'open door' philosophy, making her room look like it wasn’t a room at all. 'It’s about time I gave you something meaty to do, something that should be right up your street. I remembered how you used to bore us all at school with your interest in ancient history, how you’d meticulously try to dig out long lost information to fill in the gaps of your knowledge. Your tenacity and passion around your interests was an inspiration to me, even if I found your subject deadly dull.'

  As usual she kept her charismatic smile gleaming to the full, so you felt good about yourself, even while she was insulting you. In many ways, she hadn’t changed from our childhood together. We used to try to wind each other up all the time. I suddenly realised how much I’d missed her friendship. Having her back in my life, even as my boss and one of the ten most important people in the world, could be just what I need after my divorce from Colin. My life had felt purposeless and rudderless until this opportunity arose, which made me determined to repay the trust Geraldine was showing me.

  'I need that analytical and forensic mind, backed up with your knowledge of history, to investigate a few topics for me. This is going to be a series of small, informal investigations. I’m not looking for major, in depth reports - I just want a good overview and summary on each topic. I’m not sure quite where I’m going with this until I get the first results from you. Once you complete the first topic, send me the report for my eyes only, and then we can get together and discuss the results and decide where to go next. Make sense, so far?'

  'Well yes,' I replied, 'but you haven’t given me any specifics as yet, so I can’t really comment.'

  'OK, fair enough,' she continued. 'Let’s just finish the coffee and then I need to show you something in the Source Bank which will help make things clearer.'

  We chatted aimlessly while drinking, Geraldine trying once more to get me interested in one of her passions, cricket. You think she might have given up by now, but all the while I sat there humouring her, but feeling intrigued. I’d never been in the Source Bank, it was usually a restricted access area for technical personnel only. I guess Geraldine was allowed to go anywhere, but what could be in there of interest to me?

  We walked down the stairs towards the basement where the Source Bank was located. That was another foible of Geraldine’s - she always preferred to use the stairs rather than any of the less physical methods. We approached the security door, and my Tap immediately alerted me in its usual annoying subliminal fashion that I didn't have clearance to enter. As expected, Geraldine overrode this via her Tap - as a Decemvir no doors could be barred to her. More to my surprise however, she granted me perpetual, rather than one-time access. I glanced at her, and could see a mischievous glint in her eyes as she grinned back at me. Curiouser and curiouser.

  The temperature dropped several degrees as we entered the Bank, the air conditioning used to cool the racks upon racks of computer equipment was adjusted for their comfort rather than humans. I wondered what I was supposed to see - it was rather disappointing, just row upon clichéd row of computer equipment, similar to those in all the VR thrillers. Admittedly it was a vicarious thrill to be here amongst one of the many Banks which form the Source of the Stream. I know there were times in the past when we weren’t all connected to it using our Taps, but it’s hard to imagine life without it. Geraldine could see my growing confusion amongst the noise of the machines, and gestured me to follow her further in. After navigating a few rows of racks, we came upon an oasis of calm as a space opened up toward the centre of the room. A small desk was there, with subdued lighting and a couple of chairs. It looked as if it was designed for the system administrators to use on the rare occasions when maintenance was required.

  Geraldine gestured me towards one of the chairs, saying 'Please sit down Kofi, but go slowly and carefully.'

  Puzzled I moved forward, and just as I reached the desk I staggered. It’s hard to describe, it wasn’t a physical sensation really, but there was certainly a sense of disorientation and dizziness without an obvious cause. I could see Geraldine was equally affected, but was more prepared than me, easing gently into her chair. I slumped into mine, nearly knocking it over, but managed to right myself by grabbing onto the desk.

  'What…what was that?'

  'Close your eyes, take a few deep breaths, and then open them again. Do you notice the difference?' she replied.

  I followed her advice, and yes there was something different here, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on what it was, so I admitted as much to her.

  'OK,' she prompted, 'can you tell me what my date of birth is?'

  Odd question I thought, but easily accessed for such a public figure from the Stream. I accessed it via my Tap and…nothing happened. I tried again…nothing. I checked my messages…nothing. I started breathing faster as my panic grew, I’d never been without access to the Stream in my life before. This was a dry area; I’d heard of them but not seen one before.

  Geraldine spoke calmly trying to reassure me. 'Remember the first words I said to you this morning? Don’t panic! Stand up and walk a few steps away from the desk.'

  I did so lurching off my chair, and to my relief, the Stream came pouring back into my life. I bathed in its reassuring currents with my eyes closed, before looking back at her. Of course, she was more used to this feeling to a lesser degree from her time on the exploratory ships - but even then she had a small, local Source to tap into on the ship.

  Geraldine gestured to me, 'Come back, slowly, and remember that the Stream is only a few steps away, there’s nothing to worry about.'

  It was a struggle, but I did so, calmed my breathing and slowly settled into the chair. I knew I had a wild yet glazed look in my eyes, but I could feel my heartbeat slowing down and gradually I became calm and more focused. 'OK, tell me what this is about,' I pleaded.

  'Firstly,' she said, suddenly looking stern and sincere, 'everything we discuss in this room goes nowhere else. This is a private project between the two of us, and mustn’t be discussed openly with anyone else. I may be worrying about nothing, but I don’t want word to get around about what we’re doing until I’m sure I’m not just being paranoid.'

  I nodded in slightly worried assent as Geraldine continued. 'Besides which, if I am wrong, I don’t want your good name to be tarnished by association with my paranoia. Secondly, I’m not going to cloud your judgement by giving you all my concerns up front, most of them are probably me just reading between too many lines and adding up to five. I want you to be unbi
ased and impartial in your investigations and the conclusions you reach. As you complete each informal report, we’ll get together and discuss it - and then we’ll decide what we need to investigate next, if anything.'

  'Yes, that’s what you mentioned before, but what’s it about?' I replied, trying to make her get to the interesting stuff.

  'Well, the thing that first made me realise there might be more going on than was obvious must have affected you directly already. I assume you've noticed how hard you’ve found getting approval for historical research? Other than of course for rehashing ideas on the Roman era over and over, which was always one of Raj Tamboli’s favourite areas.'

  Of course, that was something I knew intimately - I’d been fascinated to find out more about what happened in the century or more leading up to the Flood, but couldn’t get anyone on the funding committees enthused on the topic at all. I’d been repeatedly told that it wasn’t seen to be a priority for research now, and no-one wanted to be reminded of those bad times.

  'Well that’s actually official policy - general historical research is actively discouraged; the reason given being that it’s something we don’t want to dwell on any more given the terrible things that happened in that period, and we want humanity to move on from those dark old days. However, when I asked around, no-one seems to know where that policy came from, it’s just accepted doctrine, and has been for as long as anyone can remember.' Geraldine paused, seeing my confusion and anger mount.

  'But that makes no logical sense,' I protested. 'How can we make sure we don’t repeat the same mistakes again if we don’t know what they are?'

  'The stated reason is that if we know what evil was done and how, some people may be inspired to repeat it. I know, you’d hope people would be better than that these days, but it is a partly valid concern. However, my worry is that might not be the real reason for discouraging historical research, and there’s something else lurking there. It also seems that there are other areas of research that are actively blocked. There are a few other things I’ve come across recently that I wonder may link back to how our post-diluvian world order was created. I’d like you to investigate one of those areas for me please - not only what’s happening today, but whether it happened right back to the Flood itself. Have you heard of HOME deaths?'