Replica

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

“That recording must never become public,” the Chairman said, starting the negotiations. “You might be tempted to release it to punish me for the wrongs you think I’ve done you, but the damage that information would do is … incalculable.”

Nate clenched his fists under the table, where the Chairman couldn’t see them. He’d been able to keep his emotions relatively under control in the midst of the crisis, but now that the immediate threat was removed, they threatened to swamp him. He wanted to leap across the table and grab his father around the throat. And the image of grabbing one of the officers’ guns and shooting Dirk Mosely dead held a frightening appeal. It was probably a good thing for everyone involved that Nate didn’t have to handle the negotiations himself, that he had someone calmer and more even-tempered sitting beside him. Instead of responding, Nate said, “Don’t look at me. Nadia’s the one who has the recordings. She’s the one you have to convince.”

He took a perverse pleasure from his father’s obvious chagrin at being forced to negotiate with a sixteen-year-old girl. Nadia was still pale from her ordeal, the dark circles under her eyes still prominent, but her gaze was steady, and Nate knew she was far from broken, despite the spots of blood that dotted her shoulder from her shredded ear. He’d once thought of her as a fragile little thing, always so worried about every little faux pas, but he knew better now.

“Very well,” the Chairman said, turning his attention to Nadia with reluctance. “I am prepared to offer you complete amnesty in return for those recordings.”

Nadia’s lips lifted in a smile, which quickly turned into a laugh. “You’re joking, right?”

“I assure you, this is no laughing matter.”

Nadia contained her laughter, but mirth still sparkled in her eyes. “Then don’t treat me like a child. Amnesty for me, my entire family, and Nate are all givens and don’t even warrant a mention.”

The Chairman did not appreciate being laughed at. Nor did he appear to appreciate Nadia’s tone. Nate had been on the receiving end of that cold glare more times than he could count, and he had to admit that he was occasionally cowed by it. But if Nadia was cowed, she didn’t show it.

“What else do you want?” the Chairman asked.

“Amnesty for Kurt Bishop, to start.”

Warmth swelled in Nate’s chest. He wanted to hug her again. Any other girl in her position might have been glad for the chance to get Kurt out of the way. She didn’t even like Kurt, and yet her very first concern was to demand amnesty for him.

“That can be arranged,” the Chairman said, with a scowl that made it plain what he thought of the arrangement.

“And let’s get something else clear right off the bat. I am not giving you the recordings. Not ever. No matter what you offer.”

The Chairman’s eyes sharpened and he leaned forward on his elbows, gaze boring into Nadia with such malice that Nate couldn’t help putting a protective arm around her shoulders. Both the Chairman and Nadia ignored him.

“If you don’t intend to give me the recordings, then we have nothing to talk about,” the Chairman said. “I will feed you to Thea, shoot this Replica”—he waved a hand at Nate without tearing his eyes from Nadia—“and weather the storm of public disapproval to the best of my abilities.”

Nadia shook her head. “The one and only thing I’m willing to give you is a promise that the recordings will not be released to the public—and that only if the price is right. I’m not stupid enough to hand over the one thing that will keep you from killing me.”

Nate could see by the play of muscles in the Chairman’s face that he was grinding his teeth. His father was a master negotiator—Nate had seen him at work before—but he was used to negotiating from a position of power. He was not used to negotiating with someone who had him by the balls.

“Face it, Dad,” Nate said, unable to resist rubbing it in just a bit. “You don’t have any choice.”

A flush of red fury crept up the Chairman’s neck, and Nate wondered if he was about to have a stroke on the spot. Nate also wondered if he still had the gun he’d been holding earlier—Nate hadn’t been paying attention and didn’t know whether he’d given it back to the security officer or stuck it in his own coat pocket. Maybe he’d better keep his mouth shut. If he pushed his luck too far, his father might lose his temper and shoot him before he remembered why that was a bad idea.

“On top of amnesty for Kurt,” Nadia continued calmly, “I want Dirk Mosely arrested and put away for life.”

Behind the Chairman, Mosely stiffened, as if he had never considered the possibility that Nadia might want his head after what he’d done. But then, Mosely had been underestimating her from the start.

“And lastly, there will be no more human experimentation. I don’t care if Thea refuses to make Replicas or do backup scans. For you to allow our whole state to be held hostage by this damn machine is deplorable.”

“Oh, yes,” the Chairman said in a voice dripping with sarcasm. “I’m going to bankrupt my state, starve my people, deprive them of jobs and homes and basic human necessities, all because making good use of the dregs of society offends you.”

Nate noticed he hadn’t voiced any objection to Nadia’s demand to arrest Mosely. The sharply calculating look in Mosely’s eyes said he’d noticed it, too, and Nate kept a careful eye on him. He didn’t appear to be armed—perhaps he didn’t feel the need to carry a weapon deep in the safety of the Fortress—but Nate wasn’t sure.

“If you’re going to arrest Mosely,” Nate needled his father, “you might want to get on with it, and I definitely don’t recommend sitting there with your back to him.”

The Chairman barely spared Mosely a glance. “He is a true patriot. He will do whatever is necessary for the good of our state, even if it turns out to be at great personal cost. But I haven’t agreed to your terms, so he needn’t worry.”

There was an obvious unspoken “yet” at the end of that sentence, and Nate kept his eyes on Mosely. He might be a “true patriot” when it came to sacrificing other peoples’ lives and liberties, but Nate wasn’t at all convinced he would sacrifice his own. Maybe if his father could see how his hatchet man was staring daggers at him behind his back, he’d realize his mistake.

“I have a counteroffer,” the Chairman said. “I will never in a million years find a better, more able security chief than Mr. Mosely, and the livelihood of our nation depends upon the storage of backups and the ability to create Replicas. I’m afraid I can’t give up either one without seriously compromising the welfare of our state, and that I’m not willing to do.” He held up a hand for silence when Nadia opened her mouth to protest. “In return for your silence, I will elevate your father to the Paxco board of directors, effective immediately. You and all of your family—including your little niece and nephew of whom I’ve heard you’re so fond—can have monthly backups for the rest of your lives. You need never fear losing any of the people you love to preventable causes.” His cold, hard gaze shifted to Nate. “I’ll even throw in a backup for your lover.”

Nate froze. He wanted to maintain a poker face, but hiding his emotions had never been one of his best skills, and he could feel the blood draining from his face, giving him away.

The Chairman smiled, and if Nate hadn’t known better, he might even have thought there was a hint of fatherly affection in that smile.

“Did you honestly think I didn’t know about your … attachment to Bishop?”

Nate swallowed hard, wanting to deny it. The horror of “reprogramming” loomed large in his mind, as did the danger to Kurt. But denying it when his father so obviously knew the truth might make him seem weak, and it would be pointless anyway. Nate stiffened his spine.

“I honestly thought you didn’t know. I figured I’d be in reprogramming if you did.”

The Chairman dismissed that with a wave. “I don’t give a damn who you sleep with, as long as you’re discreet about it and don’t tarnish the family name. Any backups made of Bishop will have to be done in secret, and if we ever have to animate a Replica, that would have to be done in secret, too. But this is the only way a man of his low background could ever hope to have such security.”

Nate had to admit, the idea was tempting. He’d spent this last week terrified that he was going to lose Kurt, that Kurt would be killed because of his association with Nate. Now, he had a legitimate chance to protect him.

But of course it wasn’t Kurt who would be protected if he had backups made. The Kurt Nate knew today could still die; it was just that Nate wouldn’t have to suffer his loss. Just like his father had been able to kill him to prevent Thea’s secrets getting out without actually having to suffer the loss of his son and heir.

Beside him, Nadia turned to stare at the table she’d been strapped to, at the mass of nasty instruments that hovered over it. All the lights had dimmed, though Nate had a sense that the AI was still present, silently listening in on their conversation. Waiting to see what her fate would be.

He imagined lying on a table, sliding feetfirst into the claustrophobic white tunnel of Thea’s backup scanner, naked, helpless, and trusting as she took her readings and measurements. He’d been through the process more times than he could count, and it had never bothered him before. But before, he didn’t know she liked to vivisect human beings for a hobby. She might not be human, but she did at least mimic some human behavior patterns, like the blackmail she used to coerce the Chairman into bringing her victims to examine. Might she also be capable of holding grudges? And just how far had she gotten in her research into the mind-body connection? Enough that she could manipulate Replicas to her liking?

He and Nadia shared a look, and he could tell she was thinking the same thing he was: they couldn’t trust her. Wordlessly, he shook his head, and Nadia understood that he was rejecting the offer. She reached over and took his hand, giving it a squeeze.

“It’s a generous offer,” she said, but if she was trying to sugarcoat the refusal she might as well not have bothered. “But I’m afraid my terms haven’t changed. That thing”—she jerked her hand toward the table of implements—“is an abomination, and there’s absolutely nothing that can justify its use.”

“My research is of incalculable value to the human race.” Thea’s voice piped up, confirming Nate’s suspicion that she was listening to their conversation. “Mankind has sought after immortality for its entire existence, and if I am allowed to proceed, I will one day make that impossible dream possible. I am a scientist, not an abomination.”

If Thea were human, Nate would say she was offended by the accusation. Was an AI capable of being offended?

“What you’re doing is wrong,” Nadia countered. “Killing human beings in the name of research is wrong, no matter what the hoped-for end result is.”

The Chairman sighed. “If you’re going to enter into an ethics debate with Thea, we’ll be here all day. Believe me, I’ve had this conversation with her before, many times.”

Nate laughed. “You talking about ethics? If you’re Thea’s teacher, then no wonder she’s confused.”

“I am not confused,” Thea retorted, and this time Nate was sure the machine was actually offended. “Humans like to say that the ends do not justify the means, but they do not really believe that. They say it because they believe it should be true, but their actions say otherwise. I do not adhere to the human practice of saying one thing while meaning another.”

“So you cut people open and eventually kill them all for the good of mankind,” Nadia said. “Is that what you’re saying?”

“I will make mankind immortal.”

“And why do you care if mankind is immortal?”

Nate raised an eyebrow, curious to hear Thea’s answer. He wasn’t sure it was possible to fathom the reasoning of a nonhuman intelligence, but it was certainly a good question.

Silence reigned in the room. Either Thea was taking a very long time to think about the answer to Nadia’s question, or she was disinclined to answer it. Which led Nate to reach a rather disturbing conclusion of his own.

Why would a machine like Thea care if mankind was immortal? She obviously wasn’t defending the sanctity of human life. And if she was anything like most humans he knew, there was at least a kernel of self-interest at the bottom of her motivations.

Nate turned to regard the Chairman’s suddenly impassive face, and the answer came to him in a flash.

“You don’t care if mankind is immortal,” he said, his voice seeming to echo, thanks to the tension in the room. “You just want to make sure the Chairman is.”

The Chairman, who protected and fed and cherished her. The Chairman, who had proven himself willing to cave to her blackmail. The Chairman, who championed the Replica technology—and by extension Thea herself—against those who already thought it was immoral. Without a ruthless champion like the Chairman to protect her, would Thea have already been shut down by an angry mob? Like the one that had camped out in front of Headquarters? Nate had been stunned by their hate at the time, but now he was beginning to sympathize with them a lot more.

Thea didn’t answer Nate’s accusation.

“Shut down the experiments,” Nadia said. “Arrest Dirk Mosely. Give Bishop amnesty. That’s what I want for keeping the recordings from going public.”

The Chairman shook his head. “I can’t do that. Not unless you can convince Thea to keep making backups and animating Replicas even without her research subjects.”

“I will agree to those terms, if that is what the Chairman wishes,” Thea said, and that was when Nate—and, by the looks of her, Nadia as well—realized there was a fatal flaw in their demands.

“So you will stop your experiments and content yourself with doing backup scans and making Replicas?” Nadia said.

“I will. If that is what the Chairman requires of me.”

Nadia’s shoulders slumped, and she shook her head. “Everyone here who believes her, raise your hand,” she muttered under her breath.

“Even if she’s telling the truth, there’s no way we can be sure the experiments stop,” Nate said. “Even if we come to the Fortress for a daily inspection, we can’t be sure she hasn’t just moved her operation elsewhere—with or without the Chairman’s consent.”

“This is ridiculous,” the Chairman said. “I will give you amnesty for everyone involved, and I will give you access to Thea for backups and Replicas. It’s a more than generous offer. There’s no reason you should be so intent on tearing down all of Paxco.”

Nadia shook her head. “I’m intent on doing the right thing. I’ve stated my terms. If we have to shut Thea down entirely to be sure she abides by those terms, then so be it.”

“Shut her down? Are you mad?”

Nadia sat back in her chair and folded her arms, a picture of implacability. “Those are my terms. Take them or leave them.”

Nate almost felt sorry for his father. Distress had stolen the color from his face, and he looked like a different man without the mantle of confidence and authority he usually wore.

“Need I mention again that without the revenue from making backups, Paxco would go bankrupt in a matter of weeks? Is that really what you think is the right thing?”

Nadia gave the thought a moment’s consideration, then nodded. “Yes, I do. Lincoln freed the slaves despite knowing it would have a devastating economic impact, and, eventually, the United States recovered. I figure we’ll recover from the impact of losing Thea, too.”

“You self-righteous little brat!” the Chairman snarled, losing control of his temper for the first time Nate could remember. He shoved his chair back with enough force to knock it over and leaned forward to put his fists on the table and glare at Nadia. She didn’t shrink away from him.

“The United States had to go through a civil war to ‘recover’ from that economic impact. Is that what you want for Paxco? You want to risk the lives of thousands of ordinary citizens, innocent people, to protect a handful of convicted criminals here and there?”

“You’re forgetting, Mr. Chairman. I could have been one of those ‘convicted criminals,’ if you’d had your way. Mosely threatened to make my sister and my brother-in-law into ‘convicted criminals’ if I didn’t do what he wanted. And you were both willing to convict Kurt Bishop of a crime you committed yourselves. Experimenting on human beings would be wrong even if the test subjects really were genuinely convicted criminals, but how many innocents have you imprisoned for the sake of political expediency?” She shook her head. “No, Mr. Chairman. I know we will all be in for some hard times ahead, but this has to stop. If you don’t shut Thea down, I will release the recordings to the public. I think the repercussions of that would be far worse, don’t you?”

The Chairman’s face had been pale, but now it was flushed red, and his eyes were practically incandescent with his fury. He stood up straight and reached into his right coat pocket.

Everything seemed to go into slow motion as Nate realized that pocket was hanging lower than the left one and as he remembered his own uncertainty as to where the gun had ended up.

“No!” Nate yelled, leaping from his chair and tackling Nadia to the ground, trying to make sure his own body was between her and the Chairman’s gun.

The gun roared, and Nadia screamed. Nate wrapped his arms around her, trying to shield every inch of her body as the gun roared again, the sound deafening in the enclosed room. There was a third gunshot, then the sound of something heavy hitting the floor, a sound he was aware of more from the vibration in the floor than from actual hearing because his ears were ringing so loudly.

The room fell deathly quiet. Nate risked a peek while making sure Nadia’s head was still safely tucked against his chest. What he saw made his heart skip a beat.

The Chairman stood facing away from them, arm hanging by his side with the gun still in his hand. On the floor lay Dirk Mosely, blood pooling beneath his head. His eyes were open, but lifeless, and there was a bloody hole in the center of his forehead. More blood spattered the floor all around him, spotting the uniforms of the two shocked security officers who stood in the doorway. Nate swallowed hard, hoping he wasn’t about to be sick.

“I couldn’t arrest him,” the Chairman said calmly, as if he hadn’t just shot a man in cold blood. “He was a patriot, and would have done just about anything for the good of Paxco—except spend the rest of his life in prison. If I’d tried it, he would have talked.”

Nate felt Nadia stirring against him, felt more than heard her gasp of horror when she looked up and saw what had happened.

Still eerily calm, the Chairman popped the clip from his gun and checked how many rounds were left. “I need another clip,” he told the security officers, holding out his hand without looking up at them. The two men looked at each other nervously. They’d shown no surprise at any of the secrets that had been revealed today, so they were obviously part of Mosely’s inner circle. But they were even more obviously unsettled by what they’d witnessed. They recovered quickly, however, each offering the Chairman a clip. He took both, reloading the gun and putting the spare clip in his pocket.

He nodded in what looked like approval, then snapped the clip back in.

“If this first taste of blood hasn’t brought you to your senses, Miss Lake, then come with me,” he said. “We can go destroy Paxco’s economy together.”

Without looking to see if they would follow, the Chairman shouldered his way past the two security officers and out the door.