The sky hung low, an oppressive mass of heavy red and black clouds. A plain of cracked rock ran for miles, and volcanoes towered on the horizon. The world shimmered in its own heat haze. Sulphurous fumes made Rik gag, and the scalding air seared his lungs. And his skin. All of it. Rik found he was stark naked.
The woman walking towards him through the fire and brimstone wore a red vinyl catsuit and spiked heels. The outfit seemed to have been spray-painted onto the most incredibly curvaceous body Rik had ever seen outside of a comic book. A long, red tail lashed in her wake, and her perfectly beautiful face was marred only by the two small horns growing from her forehead.
She looked Rik up and down as she approached, smiling to herself. “Very nice,” she said, her voice a low, sensual purr. “But not quite perfect.” She came up close and stroked his chest with gloved fingers. He felt himself grow enormously, embarrassingly aroused, and gasped at the sudden flood of sensation. The woman's smile broadened. She glanced down at his crotch.
“Now you're perfect,” she said.
“What the hell is this?” He growled. He put his hands over his crotch in a vain attempt to preserve some dignity, but the feel of his own erection against his palms and fingers had the exact opposite effect. He removed them quickly and stood up straight, hoping a furious glare would do to cover his discomposure.
“Don't be shy, big boy. You've got nothing to be ashamed of.” She walked behind him to complete her survey.
“Look, you just dragged me millions of kilometres across space, and for what? Sex games?”
She walked around in front of him, her tail twining briefly around his rigid member as she passed. He almost cried out in surprise and, despite himself, pleasure.
“Hmmm,” she murmured. “Games might be fun. What did you have in mind?”
He was finding it hard not to let his mind wander onto such matters. “OK. I get it. You're the Devil and you're here to tempt me. Nice job. Now, can we cut all this crap and get to the point of why I'm here?”
The woman just kept prowling around him, smiling to herself, touching him, sniffing his sweat. “When I'm ready. Now don't spoil my fun by being petulant. Cutting pieces out of you would be almost as much fun for me as what I have planned, but I don't think you'd like it half so much.”
He'd never thought about how to fend off someone who looked like Wonder Woman's hotter, evil sister, and who had a remote control for his hormones. The longer he watched her slinking about in that catsuit, the more he wondered if he really wanted to fend her off at all. It made Rik feel helpless and vulnerable; two feelings that were guaranteed to get him mad. But how do you fight your way out of a virtual reality controlled by a crazy woman?
“Thank you, Celestina. I'll take it from here.”
The speaker was a tall, well-made man in his mid thirties. He wore a beautifully tailored business suit and spoke with a suave confidence that immediately put Rik on edge. Despite the heat, the newcomer seemed perfectly comfortable.
Celestina looked at the man as if she'd like to eat him – in a good way or a bad way, Rik couldn't quite tell. There was obviously some friction between them, a power struggle of some sort, but to Rik's surprise, the guy in the suit seemed to have the upper hand.
“I was just getting acquainted with your little human, darling,” Celestina drawled. “Why don't you let me play with him for a while longer? He'll be ever so much more biddable afterwards, I promise you.”
The businessman looked at Rik's erection and raised an eyebrow. “What's this place supposed to be?” he asked. He clearly thought such games were beneath contempt.
Celestina seemed irked. She held up her long-fingered hands and clapped once in a melodramatic gesture. Everything changed in an instant. They were in a large, oak-panelled office with a huge mahogany desk and plush carpets. Framed certificates and group photos of men in suits lined the walls. A wide picture window looked out onto a Manhattan skyline from the late twentieth century. Celestina perched on the edge of the desk wearing a calf-length pencil skirt and a fitted white blouse. Her hair was tied up in a bun and she carried a dictation pad and pen. Rik found himself kneeling on the carpet at her feet, wearing only an unbuttoned white shirt and jockey shorts. Celestina's stockinged foot, clad in a high-heeled pump, was in his hand. He dropped it immediately.
“There,” she said to the stranger. “Is that more to your taste?”
The suited man was completely unruffled. “Thank you for finding him, Celestina. I knew I could rely on you.”
Again, the scene changed. Rik was glad he had been kneeling down at that point, because he felt so disoriented that he would probably have fallen over, otherwise. He and the businessman were alone in a large, comfortable drawing room. The chairs were softest calfskin, and the marble floor was strewn with deep rugs. There was a huge hearth in which logs too heavy to lift crackled and blazed. A row of bookshelves along one wall contained a library's worth of old books. Classical music drifted through the air.
“That's better,” the man in the suit said. Rik looked around to check that Celestina was nowhere to be seen and got to his feet. He was wearing the ship's jumpsuit again, and his hormone levels had fallen to normal. He breathed a sigh of relief, feeling himself subsiding.
“My colleague, whom you just met, has been working with me to try to retrieve a certain package which recently came into your possession.” The man spoke in a precise, neutral voice. He had an educated East Coast accent which must have cost his parents plenty. Although there was a relaxed sociability to the man's tone, there was also an underlying hint of prissiness that suggested an obsessive-compulsive personality. “I'm sorry if some of her tactics have been a little rough, but more depends on this than you can possibly imagine.”
Rik regarded the man steadily for a moment, then said, “Who the fuck are you, where the fuck am I, and what the fuck is going on?”
The man blinked, his air of control and assurance briefly disturbed. “I'm sorry. I assumed...” He took a breath, ready to start again.
“Tell it from the beginning,” Rik said, interrupting. “Tell it slow, and make sure you include the part where my friend gets shot by your thugs.”
“Your friend? I – I didn't know anybody had been shot. I left all the details of the operation to Celestina.”
“That would be the deranged bitch I just met in the other fantasy world? That's who you left all the details to?”
“Look, I want to–”
But Rik was just warming up. “And the upload that's been hunting me and shooting cops like they've just come into season? I suppose you didn't know about that little detail, either.”
“Shooting cops?”
“Among others. And then there's the Chicago Mob tie-in. What kind of crazy game are you playing, mister?”
The mention of Celestina's organisation seemed to bring the stranger back to somewhere more solid. A flicker of irritation passed across the man's face and he straightened himself.
“Please sit down, Mr. Drew.”
“Not 'til I get some answers.”
“Sit down, Mr. Drew, and I'll explain everything.”
Rik found himself sitting in a chair by the fire. He sprang to his feet, and was immediately back in his chair. He tried it one more time with the same effect.
“While you're in here, Mr. Drew, I have absolute control over you. Do you understand?” Rik understood, all right. “Even when you're out in the 'real' world, I still have considerable influence. Now please be quiet and listen.”
Rik tried to argue, but his mouth wouldn't work. He thought about trying to get up and deck the guy, but what good would it do for one virtual reality construct to take a swing at another one? He gritted his virtual teeth and tried to relax.
“Since you seem to know nothing at all, let me fill you in. I am Martin Lanham and this is my home, Omega Point. The woman you met earlier goes by the name of Celestina. She's the upload of Danny 'Mad Dog' Moretti, and–” Lanham paused, apparently curious about the expression on Rik's face, and let him speak.
“She's – I mean, he's – a man?” Rik burst out.
Lanham waved it aside. “That kind of thing doesn't matter so much here.”
Remembering his lustful feelings, Rik thought it mattered a great deal.
Lanham went on. “Celestina's the Mafia connection you mentioned. I don't know much about the embodied upload you say has been shooting people. Just someone Celestina hired.”
Rik tried to explain just what he thought of someone who would send the Mafia after him and his friends, but Lanham had shut him down again.
“You were asked to pick up a package for Newton Cordell,” Lanham said. “I want that package. Give it to me and I will call off my 'Mad Dog', or my mad bitch, as you more accurately called her.”
Rik's voice was working again. “I haven't got your damned package. It's gone. I lost it. God, I wish I'd never seen it! Who else have you hurt, you deranged freak? How many more of my family and friends are being targeted?”
“You need to calm down Mr. Drew, and try to think clearly. The only way to stop all this is to give me the package. The longer you wait, the more danger your loved ones may be in.”
Rik could see the sense in this, and would normally have been happy to comply. The only problem was that he didn't have the package, and didn't have a clue where it might be.
“Tell me why it's so damned important,” he said, stalling.
“It's important because I want it,” Lanham said.
It occurred to Rik that his host didn't just want the package; he wanted the package very, very much. Not just wanted it, but desperately needed it. He remembered hearing that Omega Point was at one of the Lagrange points – a journey of a hundred and fifty million kilometres. You didn't just haul people that far on a whim, even if you had all the money in the Solar System. It gave Rik some leverage.
“Not good enough, Lanham,” he said. “Tell me why I should give it to you rather than Cordell. Persuade me.”
Now, Rik thought, the guy will either take the risk that I'm willing to be persuaded, or he'll start torturing me, just to be on the safe side.
Lanham went very quiet. He stared at Rik with calculating eyes set in a poker face. When he spoke, his voice was calm and level. “Are you a religious man, Mr. Drew?”
Rik felt a wave of relief that the upload hadn't gone for the torture option. “No, not really,” he said. “Ask me again on my deathbed.”
“You'll find that people here are in two distinct camps,” Lanham said. “Those who believe there is no life after death but who still want to live forever, and those who believe strongly in God's judgement and are doing their level best to avoid having to face it. I am in the former camp.
“Outside of this place, there is a broader spectrum of views. Newton Cordell, for example, believes in the existence of God with a firm and unshakable faith. He also believes that he is destined to go straight to Heaven when he dies.
“Have you ever wondered why some people have faith and some have not?”
Rik shrugged. “Takes all kinds.”
“Credulity, Mr. Drew. That's what makes the difference. Scientists studying human personality have known for many decades that a tendency to credulity can be a significant factor in human psychology. Some people are highly credulous. They believe in UFO abductions, Bigfoot and conspiracy theories. People with a credulous personality will happily believe in all kinds of bizarre and unfounded things – even things that contradict one another. They believe the motions of the planets determine their daily lives. They believe the human colonies in space are an elaborate fiction perpetrated by their government. They believe there is a prehistoric monster living in Loch Ness. And so on.”
He paused and looked at Rik meaningfully. “People who have a high credulity index also tend to believe in some form of God.”
Rik looked sceptical. “Are you telling me Newton Cordell is a credulous type? 'Cause I don't believe it.”
Lanham barked a surprised laugh. “You yourself are clearly not a credulous type, Mr. Drew. And you're right, high credulity and the skills you need to succeed in business don't often go together. But, sadly, there are many other reasons why a person may become a religious zealot like Cordell; intensive indoctrination, for example, mental illness, or simple stupidity.”
“I take it you don't like religion much.”
“No, I don't.”
“Or Cordell, either.”
Lanham's lips twitched, but he said nothing.
Rik remembered how so many on the religious right denounced uploading as a crime against God. It was partly down to the various churches' constant campaigning that uploads had such a bad name down on Earth.
“So this is all about Cordell's mental problems?” For all Lanham's talk, Rik couldn't see how he was any nearer to explaining what was going on.
“The reasons for Cordell's fanaticism are irrelevant. What matters is what he plans to do about it.” Lanham went to a sideboard and poured himself a large whiskey. He didn't offer one to Rik.
“About fifteen years ago, researchers in the UK identified two genes which seemed to play a role in creating a credulous personality. But the trait was obviously very complicated. So they kept on looking. Other groups in Europe began to join them. Considerable funding was made available from several sources, and it became a hot research area for a short while. Many other genes were found to contribute, a large 'nexus' of genes, in the jargon of genetics. People in the field began referring to it as the credulity nexus.
“Five years ago it looked quite likely that the whole credulity nexus was about to be identified. Then the funding dried up. The leading researchers were recruited by a newly-formed private company in Germany. There were no more publications. Whatever they were doing was cloaked in commercial confidentiality. People expected that patents would be filed and products launched, but no announcements have been forthcoming.”
“And the company was GeneWerken, in Berlin, right?”
“Correct.”
“So your little killbot was in there slaughtering people to get her hands on this nexus thing...”
“No. The credulity nexus is just a piece of information – knowledge about the complete set of genes that lead to a credulous personality. What Celestina's embodied upload was trying get from GeneWerken was the thing they've been developing there for the past five years. A retrovirus.”
Rik was on his feet again. “Damn! So that package did contain a bioweapon. What the hell does a bunch of dead guys want with a bioweapon?” The implications were chilling.
Lanham sighed. “Sit down please, Mr. Drew.” Instantly, Rik was sitting again. “I can see you've jumped to all the wrong conclusions. We're not planning to wipe out the human race. We are not the bad guys here. You shouldn't listen to so much church propaganda. What we're trying to do is stop Newton Cordell and his right-wing fundamentalist associates getting hold of the retrovirus. That's why I had Celestina send someone to GeneWerken. That's why we've been hounding you.”
“But...” Rik shook his head. It still didn't make sense. “Why is Cordell developing a bioweapon? And what's it got to do with the credulity nexus?”
“You really are very slow, aren't you?”
“Yeah, well some of us don't have a quantum computer the size of an asteroid for a brain. You're saying Cordell has found a way of using the genes in the credulity nex–” Then it hit him. “Good God! He's developed a retrovirus to insert the genes, hasn't he? The virus is the... whatever they call it-”
“The vector.”
“That's it, the vector. It gets into people's cells and inserts the credulity nexus genes into them.”
“Actually, we think it mostly just activates and deactivates genes using epigenetic techniques, but it must certainly insert some where necessary. Only brain cells and gametes need be affected.”
“But it's infectious, right? So once it's released, everyone will get this virus.”
“The release would have to be carefully planned for maximum coverage, but the retrovirus is designed to be highly infectious. For what they want to achieve, anything over a ninety percent infection rate will do.”
“But what could they possibly want to achieve? Why turn the world into conspiracy theorists and UFO abductees?” For a moment he'd been caught up in the excitement of understanding the mechanism, but when it came to understanding the motive for all this, Rik suddenly realised he didn't have a clue.
Lanham shook his head again. It made Rik want to knock it off the man's shoulders. “If you were a religious fanatic and you were suddenly offered a whole world full of people just aching to believe in something, anything, what would you do?”
Slowly, Rik answered, “I'd give them the sales pitch for my favourite brand of fire and brimstone.”
“Well, that's precisely what Cordell and his associates plan to do. As soon as the virus starts to spread, they will begin a massive, wordwide media campaign to promote their own flavour of fundamentalist Christian religion. Total saturation. And don't think they don't have the money and influence to do it.
“We've been running computer simulations of possible outcomes. The best case scenario is that they recruit two billion new believers. Worst case, they convert over eight billion. On the most likely, conservative estimates, they will have sufficient support to take control of almost every government on Earth within the next five years, mostly through elections, but also through coups and revolutions. Within ten years, the ensuing crusades against non-converted states, and the pogroms within their own territories, will give them complete, unopposed global dominion.”
Rik laughed. It seemed like the only possible response. Yet even to his own ears, there was no mirth in it, only a desperate need to disbelieve what he was hearing. “If what you say is true...” he began.
“Oh, it's true.”
“Why should I believe you?”
But the trouble was, Rik did believe him. Crazy and harebrained as it was, it sounded just too plausible to dismiss. The religious right had been trying to get control of governments in the West ever since its heyday in the old Bush presidency. These days, support was starting to wane and their power-base was being eroded – not least by the existence of technology that could enable people to live forever.
“What do you think our position would be in a world dominated by religious extremists?” Lanham asked. “We'd be outlawed and destroyed. I think Cordell's plan is an ethical abomination, but whatever I thought of it, I'd have to oppose it out of simple self-preservation. Omega Point – along with every upload in the System – is fighting for its very survival.”
“So we finally get to your own sales pitch, huh? You'd like me to help you. You want me to find the package and hand it over to you. In fact, you're going to make it well worth my while to do just that. Am I right?”
Lanham looked serious, but then, serious was his default look. “I don't think either of us wants the world that's coming if Cordell releases that retrovirus. The last time Christianity held a lot of power in the world, we had the Crusades, the Inquisition, the hunting down and burning of anyone who didn't share the Church's beliefs.”
Rik walked to the fire. The simulation was so good, he could see the flames dancing and feel the warmth increase as he got closer. And that was just with a neural inducer clamped to his neck. For the people who lived here, the experience must be completely lifelike.
He watched the flames, thinking about heretics and ‘witches’, Jews and Muslims, ordinary people dying because someone didn't like the ideas they had. It made him shiver, despite the warmth. Next time round, the uploads would be included too. And who else? Gays? Feminists?
Rik had nothing against uploads. He couldn't see any reason for religious types to get so het up about them. He had nothing against religious types either, unless they started preaching at him. Live and let live, was about the sum total of his moral outlook. If Lanham was right...
“OK, make your pitch,” he said.
“You really don't know where the package is?”
“I really don't.”
“But you have some ideas for finding it?”
“If you can promise me I don't have to worry about my friends and family any more.”
“Whatever Celestina was doing, I'll make her stop.”
“OK. Then, yes, I have some ideas. What's the offer?”
Lanham gave him his dead-fish stare for a few more seconds. “Very well. You can have The Phenomenon of Man for as long as it takes. The ship and her crew are at your disposal. I've arranged for an account for you to draw on.” A small smirk crossed his face. “Money, for once, is not at all important. Spend whatever it takes. Just so you understand, the funding available to this project amounts to many trillions of dollars. If you need additional resources – anything at all – just ask. You'd be amazed how far our influence extends.”
“I'm already amazed. You're staking a lot on a long shot.”
“I don't have any better play at this time, but rest assured I will be exploring every possible avenue. If I find the virus before you do, that's it; our association is over. If you find it first, I will make sure you receive more money than you know what to do with.”
“That's a hell of a lot of money, Mr. Lanham.”
“One more thing. I've been talking to Celestina.”
When? Rik wondered, but ghosts could think and communicate at quantum computer speeds. No doubt the conversation with Rik had occupied a tiny portion of Lanham's capacity.
“She suggested you take her associate, Rivers Valdinger, along with you. Apparently she has many valuable talents.”
Rik shook his head. “No way. I don't need your psycho-killer looking over my shoulder.”
“Sorry. That is not negotiable. The ship has been prepped and is ready for take-off. Goodbye, Mr. Drew.”
“Wait a–”
“–minute!”
Rik was lying on a gurney in an office in Omega Point. The black-skinned upload leaned over him. She looked unhappy.
“Looks like you and me are partners, shithead,” she said.