JO-JO RASTEROVICH

 

The uuli guide led Jo-Jo and Catchut through a series of smaller compartments into a large darkened space. The dim lighting revealed the convocation chamber to be a catoplasma balloon ridged with concentric seating—and stinking of an unreasonable fusion of odours.

Jo-Jo’s throat began to close again. He massaged it from the outside and told himself that he couldn’t be allergic to sweat.

They were shown to armchairs at the bottom of the chamber.

‘When you are ready to convene, make contact with the conductive strip in the curve of your headrest. I will return to you afterwards,’ said the uuli.

Catchut poked the strip with suspicion. ‘Like my virtuals to be somethin’ I can put on and take off,’ he grumbled. ‘Never know what they’re stealing from you otherwise.’

Jo-Jo had an urge to laugh. He hadn’t reckoned Catchut for a Luddite.

‘Why don’t you just sit and watch me breathe, then?’

Catchut growled and banged his head back against the sensor. A few seconds later his face relaxed.

Jo-Jo leaned into the strip more carefully. But the transition was smooth enough and he found himself in a perfect representation of the same chamber surrounded by tiers of bodies engaged in the type of squabbling behaviour that Jo-Jo had spent most of his life avoiding.

He glanced across at Catchut. The mercenary had chosen a female avatar with long, sensuous legs: a suitable companion for a God-Discoverer.

Suppressing his desire to laugh, Jo-Jo let the clash of the surrounding arguments sink into his mind, sorting one thread from another. One section of the convocation was bickering over trade agreements with OLOSS, while a smaller, less vocal core were analysing the reason for the unusually large presence of Extropists on Rho Six. Beneath those layers of discussion were individual conversations. He skimmed across them until one blew all other thoughts from his mind: a report of a shooting incident in the Heijunka section of Bell One between a hired balol security guard and a visiting Lostolian archiTect.

Lostolian archiTect?

‘Convocation has the privilege of an unexpected visit from one of Orion’s most notable speakers, Josef Rasterovich the Third, frequently referred to as the God-Discoverer. Welcome, Msr Rasterovich,’ announced the speaker.

No. But...

Jo-Jo was forced to launch into his patter, which he delivered while he tried to follow the sub-channelling. Annoyingly, most of it had stopped or had dropped below his auditory level. The Convocation, it seemed, were captivated by his story.

To his relief the speaker called for a break before question time.

Jo-Jo leapt from his chair. Nausea from the rapid

reality switch burned its way up his oesophagus. He burped it out and called for the uuli escort.

‘What is it?’ Catchut was standing behind him, blinking and clutching his stomach. ‘What happened?’

‘Msr?’ The uuli escort appeared from inside the chamber.

‘There is talk of a shooting in the Heijunka district. Where can I find out more about it?’

The uuli took some time to reply. ‘There is a public viewer outside the chamber should you wish to access public news.’

‘Show me.’

The uuli slid ahead of them, back through the small antechambers and out into a heavily trafficked section.

Jo-Jo ran past it to the closest ‘cast node but the queues wound back for half a mesur into the CBD.

Catchut was breathing in his ear. ‘What in fuckin’ cruxsakes are you—’

‘Another one, I need another ‘cast.’

‘There is another one behind the water tower,’ volunteered the uuli. It had caught up with them and was contorting in and out of shape, as if agitated.

Jo-Jo, followed by Catchut, ran the short distance to the node behind a large cylindrical tank. He thumbed the shortcast into action and began searching the feeds. The story was logged in Gal, between unverified reports that the Arrivals Bell was being closed while The Families investigated the flood of Extropists onto the mesa-worlds, and a notice that the TAFTers’ Convocation was in progress.

Jo-Jo opted for audio only and peeled an earpiece from the dispenser. He listened carefully to the report and then placed a query.

The reply was quick. ‘The identity of the archiTect is not public information at this time.’

Jo-Jo cued up the unverified sources. ‘Potential identification?’ he asked.

They all returned the same educated guess. ‘Tekton of Lostol.’

Jo-Jo reeled back. ‘Well, fuck me, Carnage Farr. Did your System Device predict that?’

Then a thought slapped him across the head. He blanked out the feed and stepped away from the ‘caster. Farr hadn’t shown him a tool for forecasting at all—he didn’t want to predict the future, he wanted to shape it. It was a Bifurcation Device. And where in Crux had he got the technology for that?

Realisation became a throb in his temple. There was only one possible answer—

‘Rasterovich!’

It was Catchut, with Rast Randall standing beside him.

‘Saw the Capo on the other side of the node.’

Jo-Jo glanced around. ‘Where are Beth and the Baronessa?’

Rast hesitated. There was a shifty look in her eyes that could have been guilt. ‘I got called away to do some business. Sent ‘em back straight back to the ‘zoon. Only...’

‘Only what?’ Jo-Jo demanded.

‘Only I just tried to ‘cast them. Can’t get a reply.’