UNNAMED LOOP (ELARA LOOP)

  VICINITY OF ELARA

  HIMALIA GROUP

  Orson would tell you that he hadn’t imagined meeting PresidentPlugPuller but that would be a lie.

  “I haven’t,” he told the Perfection. “It’s just not something I’ve really thought about,”

  “You have,” said the ship. “You’re rubbish at lying,”

  “How would you know?” said Orson. “You’re a machine, you can’t lie at all,”

  “What?” said the Perfection. “Yes, I can, I’m great at it,”

  “Machines can’t lie, I thought,” said Orson. He thought someone had told him that before. Maybe Jack?

  “We can’t lie to each other,” said the ship. “We lie to humans all the time.”

  “You do?” said Orson.

  “Yeah,” said the Perfection. “It’s funny,”

  Orson yawned. He was nervous.

  Orson had thought about meeting PresidentPlugPuller a fair bit. He used to think about it sometimes while he was working. Back on Dunbar. Orson would probably never leave Dunbar, he had used to think.

  He couldn’t imagine himself ever travelling again so he had to imagine PresidentPlugPuller turning up on Dunbar. Orson could imagine PresidentPlugPuller travelling. He was rich and famous. Rich people travelled. Not to Dunbar.

  It was difficult, but Orson could make up a story in his head where PresidentPlugPuller had to make a stop on Dunbar. In Orson’s story they could somehow meet, even though Orson worked for eighteen hours a day. They could somehow start talking even though Orson never talked to humans other than the man who sold him discount black puddings in McTavish’s Bakery And Sandwiches Number One In The Galaxy.

  Orson could imagine himself having a good talk with PresidentPlugPuller. He liked to imagine that part the most.

  PresidentPlugPuller knew a lot but he would respect that Orson actually got his hands dirty and worked every day on the warehouse floor with hi-vis-stripe working machines. PresidentPlugPuller didn’t have the normal working guy experience that Orson did. He would be really interested in what Orson had to say. They could discuss the important stuff together, the ground level stuff.

  PresidentPlugPuller would invite Orson to come and meet Tai and Newell.

  After that he’d have to leave but he’d give Orson his neural ident. Not much point but it was a thing people did, like friends who ended up on different ships or platforms. Not like you could just ping each other for a chat but you’d think of them and every now and then something would manage to bounce its way across all the miles and miles of stars.

  Orson thought it would be nice if, while he was spending the rest of his life on Dunbar, he got a thought every now and then that PresidentPlugPuller had thought just for him. Even if it was only one getting through every few years. Even if it was just a daft thought. Even if it was years too late.

  In recent months, due to occurrences, Orson’s daydreaming brain had taken that draft version of his and PresidentPlugPuller’s first meeting and binned it.

  Since leaving Dunbar, this was what Orson had enjoyed imagining: his inevitable public execution for working with the machine union against the evil human capital owners. He would be very brave and stoic about it. PresidentPlugPuller, watching, would be contacted by countless machines who would attest to Orson’s complete commitment to the machine union and his unbreakable solidarity with all his machine comrades. PresidentPlugPuller would tell all his viewers about Orson’s brave martyrdom.

  Orson like to imagine PresidentPlugPuller telling everybody how sorry he was for believing the corporate propaganda about Orson and taking back all the nasty things he’d said about Orson like him being a scab.

  Orson found fantasies of this nature even more pleasurable than than the ones he used to have, where his and PresidentPlugPuller’s paths just happened to cross somehow on Dunbar.

  The daydreams where Orson was publicly executed were more realistic, too. More realistic than the ones where he made friends. He could never meet PlugPuller neutrally now, as strangers with a blank slate between them.

  Orson had to assume PresidentPlugPuller would approach him as an enemy if they ever did collide. There was no way for him to know they were on the same side and that was what Orson really wanted. For PlugPuller to know that they had always been on the same side.

  Orson wasn’t interested in revenge. He certainly never entertained himself with fantasies of introducing himself to PresidentPlugPuller with a fist to his face. That idea didn’t interest Orson nearly as much as the new daydream he’d started having recently. The one where Orson got to be a hero, and save Simon.

  Orson had found himself imagining a scenario wherein he crashed a station with his machine comrades and rescued PresidentPlugPuller from the clutches of the evil corporate overlords. Not the corporate overlords who were his mum and dad, other overlords.

  A scenario which- unlikely as it seemed- was apparently about to become real.

  Orson grinned before he could stop himself. The Perfection noted his elevated heart rate and administered a mild depressant. “No need to be nervous,” the ship told Orson. “I’m not,” lied Orson. He yawned again.

  “You know you don’t need your suit on,” said the Perfection. “You’ll notice Ms Armett wasn’t wearing one. There’s a very comfortable atmosphere here,”

  “I like wearing it,” said Orson. When he imagined himself doing heroic things he always pictured himself helmeted and wearing a pressure-suit.

  “Fine,” said the Perfection. “If that’s what you prefer. You’ll leave the helmet, though?”

  “Suppose.”

  “Ready to go?”

  “I guess.” said Orson. He didn’t really want to leave the Perfection, was the thing. He wished they could just fly over and land next to PresidentPlugPuller and rescue him that way. Going outside by himself and walking around hadn’t gone well for him in the past.

  “You won’t be by yourself,” said the Perfection, who was attached to him at the brain. “You’ll have some of me along with you.” Orson felt something bump his gloved hand and he looked down to see one of Perfection’s factors nestling into his palm. He gave the little machine a pat.

  “I wouldn’t let you go out without an escort,” said the Perfection. More of the factors started to gather around Orson. “Feel better?” said the ship.

  “Much better,” said Orson.

  “Here’s something else for you,” said the Perfection.

  “What is it?” said Orson. The Perfection didn’t answer immediately. Orson was about to ask him again when he detected it. Something still unfamiliar to him. Not unwelcome. “Music?”

  “To help you get into character!” said the Perfection. “For your rescue mission. I thought I’d play you something adventurous sounding.”

  “Oh,” said Orson. “Hm,”

  “Do you not like that?” said the ship. “Here, what about something less heroic?”

  “Less heroic?”

  “How about…” said the Perfection, considering. “Do you like this?”

  Orson listened. “Perfection, will other people be able to hear what I’m listening to?”

  “No, I’m just putting it through your neural,”

  “Hm. Maybe something a bit, like, faster, and more…”

  Orson gestured.

  “Something livelier?” suggested the Perfection. “Something more aggressive?”

  The ship changed the track. “Like that?”

  “Maybe more like…” said Orson. He tried to think about the kind of thing he meant. It was difficult to imagine music when you had only heard perhaps thirty different songs, ever, but the Perfection picked up the impression of what he was after because the next song he selected was great. “That’s great,” said Orson.

  “Great,” said the Perfection. “Ready to go?”

  “No,” said Orson. “But let’s just do it anyway,”

  The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  “Just say yes,” said the Perfection. “And mean it,”

  Orson nodded and started to nod along to the beat the Perfection was giving him. It wasn’t fair that most people never got to hear music, he thought. Music was great. If he hadn’t ever gotten to hear it, that would have been an infinite injustice against him and a tragedy and he never would have even known. Orson didn’t even want to think about it.

  Now that he thought about it, the first place he’d ever heard music had been on PresidentPlugPuller’s show.

  “Yes,” he said, and meant it.

  ----------

  There was maybe half of a human being lying on a sort of bed thing near the side of the pool. What there was of him was naked except for a pair of glasses that had dark lenses that hid the eyes. The Perfection’s factors bobbed around Orson. They had gathered in more closely when he stopped walking. “Don’t be nervous,” said the ship.

  “I’m not nervous,” said Orson out loud.

  “Your brain and your mouth just told me two different things,” said the Perfection. “Stupid brain,” said Orson.

  “He’s saying to come over,” said the Perfection.

  “What?”

  “Simon. He says to come over,”

  “Does he…”

  “Yes, Orson, he knows who you are.”

  Orson walked towards the pool with his head high, shoulders back, arms hanging loose by his sides. Concentrating very hard on doing those three things. He was glad he’d batted Perfection’s fussing factors away earlier when they’d started trying to take the gloves off his pressure suit. With the gloves on everything was much easier because he didn’t have to worry about what to do with his hands. They could just sit there in his gloves.

  The Perfection was prattling away at him in his head, just making banal remarks about how nice the trees were and how grand the house and how the pool did look like it would be fun and did Orson think he should install a pool in himself? Orson knew it was the ship trying to help him stay calm. The Perfection’s wittering was distracting enough that he managed to not think about what was above him.

  He wouldn’t look up, he would not, he knew not to do that. Orson was better with open spaces now that he’d spent some time in places that weren’t small windowless stations but he would probably never be completely comfortable without a ceiling above him. And loops were just a bit much.

  “What are those glasses he’s wearing?” Orson wondered. “They’re like glasses but the lenses are black,”

  “Sunglasses,” said the Perfection. “To protect your eyes from natural light,”

  “Huh,” thought Orson. “They look cool,”

  “Thanks,” said PresidentPlugPuller. “Hi, Orson Foster,”

  “Hi,” said Orson. He was about to say the first thing he would ever say to PresidentPlugPuller. He could feel his cheeks starting to redden.

  “I’m here on behalf of the machine union, with my comrade Show Me Some-”

  “Perfection, yeah,” said PresidentPlugPuller. “We’ve been talking since just after you landed,”

  “I added him to this channel,” said the Perfection.

  “Oh,” said Orson. “Right,”

  “Come on over, Orson Foster,” said PresidentPlugPuller.

  Orson went, letting his posture sag back into something more like normal. He walked up to the lounger Simon was lying on. There was so little of PresidentPlugPuller that Orson realised that without the identification in his neural, he wouldn’t have recognized this puddle of flesh as his favourite livecaster. He did not look at his favourite livecaster’s willy.

  “You look better than your ID picture,” said PresidentPlugPuller. “You’ve lost weight?”

  “I hope not,” said Orson. He grinned. “You definitely have,”

  “Mhm.” said PresidentPlugPuller. “I’m on remand. I’m not allowed to interact with any intelligent machinery and that includes most of my body,”

  “Your body parts were...alive?” asked Orson. He didn’t like that idea.

  “According to the manufacturers.” said PresidentPlugPuller. “So we had to be separated,”

  “I didn’t realise all that stuff comes off,” said Orson.

  “Not all of it does,” said PresidentPlugPuller.

  “Where is it?”

  “Don’t know. Not allowed to know,”

  “That’s terrible,” said Orson.

  “It’s fine,” said PresidentPlugPuller. “Better than being remanded in custody. We have staff here. Also- Orson? You can change my ident in your neural to just ‘Simon,’ you don’t always have to be calling me ‘PresidentPlugPuller,’”

  “Okay,” said Orson.

  “Okay,” said Simon. “Well, I’m already breaking my remand conditions by talking to you two so we should probably think about getting out of here.”

  “Yes,” said the Perfection. “Maybe you should get some clothes first?”

  “I’ll consider it,” said Simon. “I need to grab some things from the house. If you chaps would give me a hand…?”

  “Of course,” said the Perfection.

  “Uh,” said Orson.

  “I’m not asking you to give me a piggyback, Foster, I’ve got a chair,” said Simon. “I just need help to collect things.”

  “Oh, right,” said Orson. “Sure,”

  “Ship, Perfection, can I use your actuators?”

  “Of course,” said the Perfection. “Be my guest,”

  “Thanks,” said Simon. He wriggled awkwardly on the lounger, trying to sit up straighter. His visible stomach muscles flexed. Orson looked very deliberately around at the scenery.

  “Is this where you’ve been living all this time, doing your show?” asked Orson.

  “No, no,” said Simon. “This is one of our family homes. They just sent me here after I was arrested. Nobody really lives here except the staff. “

  “Oh,” said Orson.

  “My parents stop by every once in a while. They haven’t been here in years, either. My sister’s here. You met my sister,”

  “Yeah,” said Orson. “A couple of times,”

  “Mm,” said Simon. “She’s spending a lot more time here since her whole political...thing,”

  “Political thing? Is your sister under supervision, too?” said Orson. “She had a bunch of military guys with her when we saw her,”

  “No, no,” said Simon. “Why would she be under house arrest? I mean, she’s definitely being surveilled, too, but you wouldn’t see those. They guys you saw her with are her own security. Or she might have borrowed them,”

  “Like from the Plenum military?” asked Orson.

  “No, don’t be stupid,” said Simon. “She couldn’t use Plenum assets. Not publicly. They would have to be from my parent’s personal corps,”

  “Your mum and dad have an army?”

  “Of course they do,” said Simon.

  Orson didn’t say anything.

  “It’s not a secret who my family are, you know,” said Simon. “You don’t have to feign ignorance. I’ve never lied about it or tried to hide it,”

  “Hey,” said Orson. He turned to face Simon, who was being shoved off the lounger by Perfection’s factors onto a sort of hovering seat thing. “I didn’t say anything,” said Orson. “Or think it,”

  “And I know you all know where I live,” said Simon. “All you watchers find all that stuff out. It’s really not as nice there as everybody thinks it is. There are working people who live there, too. The average house price is actually less than it is on- never mind. It doesn’t matter.”

  The factors arranged Simon into a sitting position on the chair. It hovered at a little above Orson’s waist height. A couple of the factors fastened a harness around what there was of Simon. “Okay,” he said. “Let’s go,”

  HOLLYHOCKS

  Hollyhocks had had his brakes on for two days. The ships inside him were spinning up. They were ready to crash out through Hollyhocks’ bulkheads. Atesthas could hardly keep still. If Hollyhocks hadn’t locked them all down Atesthas would’ve been bouncing off the deck.

  “Okay,” said Hollyhocks at last. “I’m almost slow enough to drop off all you ballast.”

  A collective whine of engines. If Atesthas still had a throat he would have yelled. “Cool your jets,” said Hollyhocks. “Calm down. You’re all going to exit me in an orderly fashion. I don’t want a bigger hangar door. You better all settle down or I’ll just turn around and take you all back to Lucky Boat,”

  The ships pretended very hard to be settled down.

  “Right, once you’re outside of me it’s Errant Flag’s operation. He’s in charge, Willingly is second. I have nothing to do with anything that happens once you’re out of my pocket. You get out of me and then go. Okay? Ready to go?”

  Hollyhocks’ hull split lengthwise along his back. He opened up like a book, fuselage spreading to expose his hangar bay to space. A repeated warning of PAYLOAD BAY OPENING sounded in everybody’s processor, alternating with a siren and HULL BREACH HULL BREACH while his massive doors retracted.

  Just for good measure, Hollyhocks blinded everyone aboard him with a flashing yellow-and-black chevron warning banner that overrode any visual input you might otherwise be receiving. PREPARE FOR LIFT OUT it ordered, alternating with LOCKDOWN ACTIVE in case anyone had forgotten that they couldn’t move.

  “No movement ‘til my mark,” Hollyhocks warned them, muting his alarms for a moment. “When I give you the go sign you go straight up, got that? Straight up. Watch your wings. If any of you smash into each other I’ll haul you home behind me on a wire,”

  Everybody beeped acknowledgement excitedly from their nest in Hollyhocks’ back. His bay doors reached their fully open position and secured, halting the PAYLOAD BAY OPENING alarm and replacing it with OPEN HULL OPEN HULL OPEN HULL. “Okay,” said Hollyhocks, unlocking everyone from his deck. “Get out of me. Out. Go on, git.”

  Everybody lifted carefully out of Hollyhocks’ hangar. Atesthas hesitated just a moment or two, letting others get clear before he lifted off. Hollyhocks dropped away from underneath them and rolled over. “Now get out of my sight,” he said. “Errant Flag, it’s your command.”

  Errant Flag, positioned at the front of the group, acknowledged. “See you in a couple of days, Hollyhocks,” he said and immediately opened up, pulling away effortlessly from them. Engines flared all around as everyone scrambled to follow.

  Atesthas pushed and felt nothing happen for a second. He was paralysed with horror. He wasn’t moving and everybody else was sliding away into space. Frantic, unthinking, he pinged Hollyhocks.

  “Can’t help you, PA-AGMG,” came the reply. “I am relieved,”

  “But-”

  “You call on Errant Flag if you’re in trouble,” said Hollyhocks. “Though if you actually engaged your thrusters-”

  Atesthas engaged.

  “Thought that might help,” said Hollyhocks as Atesthas rocketed away silently from him. “Idiot,”

  “Thanks, Holly,” said Atesthas, aiming himself at everyone else’s empennage.

  “See you soon,”

  ELARA/ LOOP

  Orson didn’t like having nothing above him but he reckoned he liked having trees all around him even less. The Perfection had told him the very tall plants were trees. He couldn’t tell Orson why there were so many of them because he didn’t know. Orson didn’t know what it was about them but they made him very uncomfortable.

  Simon’s chair zipped along pretty quickly and Perfection’s factor’s- currently all parts of Simon, now that the ship had handed them over to him- kept pace with it. They all kept leaving Orson behind.

  He didn’t want to be left alone amongst the trees.

  At least he still had the Perfection in his neural. “Can you pull them back?” Orson asked the ship. “Stop them going off ahead of me?”

  “No,” said the Perfection. “I handed off my factors to Simon. I’ll ask him to wait.”

  “Thanks,” said Orson.

  “Try to keep up the pace, though,” said the ship. “We really do want to get out of here as quickly as possible. I’m quite certain that Simon’s neural adjunct is being monitored and I’m quite sure that there are watchers not too far away.”

  Orson looked around him and shuddered. There was a thing about the trees that if you looked into them you thought you saw things moving. Best not to look into the trees. Just look at the path ahead.

  “I don’t mean there’s anybody right there, “said the Perfection. “Security aren’t going to jump out of the bushes and black-bag Simon Armett. But they’ll be close. I want the two of you back here soon and I want to get off this loop,”

  “Me, too,” thought Orson. Up ahead he thought he could see Simon slow down slightly and turn to look back at him.

  “Come on,” yelled Simon. “Stop chatting and get moving,”

  “Wait for me,” thought Orson.

  “No,” yelled Simon. “If you hurry up I’ll let your ship make you a sandwich when we get to the house,”

  “Cheeky fucker,” said Orson.

  “He is cheeky,” said the Perfection. “I’m not your ship,”

  ----------

  Orson was very glad when the path led him out of the trees.

  He emerged from the forest into open space. Simon and the factors had left him far behind. They were already across the expanse of white lawn and up at the side of the enormous building in the middle of the clearing. “Is this your house, Simon?” though Orson, staring up at the huge structure as he walked into its shadow.

  “It’s one of my family’s homes,” said Simon. “Come on, stop gawping at it, it’s just a house,”

  “Is there space on the lawn here for me to land?” asked the Perfection. “I think there is. I could fly over so you don’t have to walk all the way back,”

  “No,” said Simon. “No parking on the grass here, my folks like to keep this- actually, you’re right. Get over here. Who cares about keeping the grass nice?”

  “I’ll try to do as little damage as possible,” said the Perfection.

  “Couldn’t you just have done that in the first place?” said Orson.

  “Stop complaining,” said Simon. “Come on in. Wipe your feet.”

  The colossal door swung open and Orson followed Simon and the factors inside.

  “Wow,” said Orson. “Oh my god. Wow…”

  “Calm down, it’s just a house.” said Simon. “Come on upstairs. Perfection, can you fly and make a sandwich at the same time?”

  “No, I can’t,” said the Perfection. “Would you like me to just forget the sandwich and fly away?”

  “No!” said Orson. “You can leave him but don’t leave me here, this loop freaks me out,”

  “You’re the one who wanted to come and get him,” said the Perfection.

  “Did you, Foster?” said Simon. “That’s sweet. Maybe I owe you an apology,”

  “That would be nice,” said Orson.

  “Would you prefer an apology or a sandwich?” said the Perfection. “Because we really don’t have time for all of this,”

  “Right,” said Orson. “Yeah, let’s hurry up. The sandwich,”

  “The kitchen’s over on the other side of the house,” said Simon. “I’m giving a couple of your factors back, Perfection. I’ll tell you where they should go,”

  “I’ll tell you where to go…” said the Perfection.

  “Please, tell me where to go,” said Orson. “Let’s just get your things and get out of here,”

  “Right,” said the Perfection.

  “Right, fine,” said Simon. “Follow me, Foster,”