17

Grabes’ dark wood office smells like a well-polished coffin. ‘You’re impressed, aren’t you?’ says Grabes. He is behind a desk the size of a double bed. A giant, polished Nautilus shell sits between them. His office is sparsely furnished aside from his DPhil certificate, lavishly framed in amber-studded silver. It looks like it was dredged up from a shipwreck. ‘I knew you would be. I knew you’d come straight in today. I even ordered your brand of coffee.’

‘Beautiful. Where’s Max?’ says Hatsuka. ‘He works for you already, right?’

‘We have never had and never will have any interest in your adequately talented lab partner,’ says Grabes, irritated, pouring her coffee.

‘Where are my parents?’

‘I wonder if you’ve ever asked Takin about the terms of your enrolment. If he knows where your parents are,’ says Grabes, upset that Hatsuka doesn’t want to talk about the interface. ‘There’s something different about you, Hatsuka, you know that at least. You have a unique sensitivity. The Holophins communicate with you like you’re the only one who really understands them.’

‘Holophins want everyone to believe that,’ says Hatsuka. ‘They talk to everyone like they’re the Chosen One. It’s key to their psychological efficacy. I worked on the sub-routine. Where are my parents?’

‘We’ll come to that.’

‘They’re fragile,’ says Hatsuka. ‘If you’ve harmed them in any way…’

‘I’ve never met them. Maybe I can help you find them.’

‘If I work for you, yes?’

‘The thing is, Hatsuka,’ says Grabes, ‘you’re already working for us. We’ve been monitoring you since you started at TIS. Your pioneering research into memory interpolation opened up a heretofore unknown weakness in Holophin virus protection. Two years ago Tim Takin employed Ookami to work on a safe form of thought-modulation, an escape fantasy which does nothing to impede the user’s day-to-day functioning. One of his oh-so-magnanimous ways of silencing his competitors. And by keeping our knowledge of the aperture quiet, by worrying away at its edges, we’ve been able to exploit that to offer the people a choice. And now you’re just in time for the Free Trial.’

The lights dim and the Nautilus shell in the middle of Grabes’s desk gives off a pulsing orange light.

‘So you’ve done what you deep down know to be the right thing, whether you like it or not,’ says Grabes, and spins around in his chair.