The softwire : Virus on Orbis 1 Page 6

  I grabbed Ketheria’s hand as we entered the guts of Weegin’s World, a cavernous dome-within-a-dome filled with machines, grease, and dirt. In contrast to the luxury we had witnessed earlier, our new home was ugly. It seemed that our Guarantor spent his fortunes on machinery, not comforts. Under the metallic dome, enormous robotic cranes tossed around cargo containers as if they were toy blocks. Tentacles from the massive cranes gripped the inner dome for support while these metal monsters plucked cargo through the giant energy field that pierced the skin of the outer dome. The enormous claws deposited the containers for smaller robots to crack open and sort their contents, which were more containers. The whole process looked to me like some absurd ballet. Max would love to see this, I thought.

  Weegin piled us into a lift that took us high over the factory. The air was stale and smelled of grease, just like the manufacturing corridor on our seed-ship. Weegin ignited a bright green energy field that served as a walkway over the entire workings of Weegin’s World.

  “I’m a jobber,” Weegin said. “Look over here.” We leaned against the railing to see where he was pointing. “Every time a starship is forfeited, I put in a bid for its cargo with the Trading Council. Anytime a vendor goes out of business — even in other star systems — I buy their stock. I grab whatever I can find.”

  “You collect junk,” Switzer said.

  Weegin grabbed Switzer by the nose and twisted it. Switzer cried out in pain. Weegin, who was quite strong for his size, dragged Switzer to the front of the group.

  “Is this junk?” Weegin asked, referring to us. “I don’t think you would call your friends junk.”

  “Maybe,” he said.

  Weegin twisted harder.

  “Yer gonna rip my nose off!” Switzer cried.

  Weegin pushed him to the floor. Switzer massaged his nose, which was already swelling up.

  “Jobbing is how I acquired you. Just prior to your arrival, when the Keepers announced the death of your crew, a few companies forfeited their claims. That’s when I put in a bid, and now I have you.” Weegin looked straight into my eyes.

  “What are we supposed to do?” asked a girl named Grace.

  Weegin moved down the overhead railing to another glass door.

  “Depends on you and how smart you are,” he replied.

  Weegin picked up a scrap of metal and threw it onto the floor. Instantly, small robotic scavengers scurried across the factory floor and devoured the scrap.

  “Just don’t get in the way of those critters.” He chuckled. “Some of you,” Weegin continued, “will process inventory data, while most of you will sort the smaller bins the robots are too clumsy to handle. A lot of small stuff has big payout.”

  Weegin piled us into another lift, which went even higher. He focused his beady eyes on me and added, “I’m interested to see what you can do. You better be worth it.”

  The elevator opened into a small round room. There was nothing in the room except for some vestlike garments hanging on the walls — some small, some bigger, but all of them deep blue in color.

  “Every one of you must wear one of these skins.” Weegin held one up for everyone to see. “This skin tells everyone you belong to me. Once you put it on, you are never to leave Weegin’s World without it. Matter of fact, you are never allowed to leave your room without it, or you will not get back in.”

  Weegin turned and waved the vest over the sensor near the door. The door disappeared. I noticed two bones extending from Weegin’s back and through the thick material of his shirt. The bones were jagged on the ends, as if someone had snapped something off them.

  “The skin is electronically programmed to open any door you are authorized to go through. Your own skin will open the door to your quarters. Only your quarters. Find one that fits,” Weegin said, “and follow me.”

  I reached for a skin, but Switzer, whose nose was now purple and swollen, snatched it away.

  “The girls’ skins are on the other side,” Switzer said.

  “Nice nose, by the way,” I said. I grabbed the next skin and slid my arms through the holes.

  The skin clamped around me. It was more metal than fabric. I held up my arms and twisted. The vest resisted slightly.

  “Every time you forget your skin and I have to let you in, that will cost you two chits. If you lose your skin, that will cost you thirty chits, so don’t lose it. If you break a rule, that will cost anywhere from one chit to fifty chits, maybe more. . . .”

  “What’s a chit?” I said.

  Weegin whirled around. “Did they not tell you anything about the ring?”

  “A little bit,” I said, following Weegin down the hallway.

  “Against the wishes of the Trading Council, you are paid for your services with chits,” he said.

  This was good, I thought. It wasn’t slavery after all. I would have money. I could buy things and maybe have a real life yet.

  “You are charged three chits every phase for your sleeper. An extra chit for clean sheets — which I enforce, by the way. I don’t want you humans stinking up Weegin’s World. Meals are two chits a phase — that’s all the Keepers let me charge. I don’t know how they expect me to feed you on two chits a phase.” Weegin was rambling. “Anyway, there’s a chit charge for —”

  “Weegin,” I interrupted, “how much do we get paid to help you as jobbers?”

  “Two chits per work spoke,” Weegin snapped. “More than you’re worth.”

  I knew four spokes made one cycle and four cycles made a phase. Four phases made a set, and ten sets made one rotation.

  I knew a rotation on Orbis was like a year on Earth. “How many spokes do we have to work?” I asked.

  “I can make you work only one spoke per cycle,” Weegin answered.

  Two chits per work spoke meant eight chits per phase. With the cost of room and board . . . that left me with two chits a phase if I didn’t break any of Weegin’s rules. I didn’t know how much a chit was, but I assumed financial independence was now out the window.

  Weegin stopped in a small foyer at the end of a lofty hall and removed a small electronic device from a belt on his hip. He waved it over Grace’s implant and then the vest. “One spoke of each cycle is for recreation and chores. Don’t forget your chores. Why you need a spoke for recreation is beyond my comprehension. You are not here for fun. Fun is not an option at Weegin’s World.” He moved Grace aside as the lift rose along the corridor, then he reached for another child. “One spoke is for social studies and one spoke is for sleep.” Weegin continued brushing the device over each child. “I’m programming your implants and your skins with your room assignment. We have found sleepers similar to the ones on your seed-ship.” We all stopped in front of another lift. “Step onto the lift and it will take you to your room. The door will automatically admit your entry.”

  “I don’t have an implant,” I told Weegin.

  “Do you think I’m stupid?” he said with a snarl.

  “No, I mean I just —”

  “I’m aware of what you have and don’t have. It shouldn’t matter, if you are what they say.”

  Weegin waved the wand where my implant would have been and shrugged his leathery shoulders. The two thick bones poking out of his back twitched in unison.

  “Females first onto the lift,” Weegin ordered.

  I was staring at the sharp spikes that seemed to grow from Weegin’s temples when Ketheria grabbed my arm.

  “Don’t worry, Ketheria, I’ll just be down the hall. Besides, I couldn’t leave even if I wanted to,” I said, tugging at my vest.

  Ketheria only held on tighter. She wouldn’t let go. Grace came up behind us.

  “Well, Ketheria, I guess we’re roommates,” she said.

  “See?” I said to Ketheria. I gently tried to pry her fingers from my arm. “Grace will be here with you, and you can come see me whenever you want.”

  Grace reached out and took Ketheria’s hand.

  “Go — it’ll be fine.”
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  Ketheria’s grip loosened, and she let Grace lead her onto the lift. But her eyes never left mine. Even though she didn’t say anything, somehow I knew what she was feeling — neither of us wanted to be separated. When Ketheria finally looked away, I boarded another lift, one of at least twenty that skimmed the outer walls. I watched Ketheria’s lift stop in front of her room. A little farther down, my lift stopped and an opening appeared in the seamless metal wall.

  “I guess this is home,” I said.

  Switzer pushed past me. “Get out of the way, roomie.”

  “This is your room, too?”

  “Better get used to it, freak.”

  I followed Switzer inside the small, narrow room. The smell of grease was just as dreadful as in the factory. There were lockers on both sides and a simple door at the far end. I waited for Switzer to choose a locker, and then I selected one on the other side of the room. Inside I found some clothes, some sort of light source, clean sheets for my sleeper, and a pair of used work boots.

  “I wonder where Weegin found these,” I said, holding the boots up.

  “What do you care?” Switzer said as he headed for the door, which disappeared when he stood in front of it.

  The next room contained four sleepers and nothing else. It seemed that our provisions barely exceeded the minimums required by the Keepers.

  The sleepers looked different from the ones on our seed-ship. These were built into the walls and stacked one on top of another. I figured Switzer would try to take any sleeper I took interest in, so I stood next to the sleeper farthest from the door. Switzer pushed me out of the way.

  “That one’s mine,” he said, right on cue.

  That was easy. I turned and took the top sleeper near the door, just in case Ketheria needed me.

  Dalton Billings entered the room behind Theodore. “We have to sleep with them?” he said to Switzer.

  He took the sleeper under Switzer, while Theodore immediately grabbed the sleeper under mine. Sides were drawn once again. This felt familiar. I was afraid of Switzer, but I would never admit it. He would use my fear against me. On the Renaissance I had avoided him and lived in the shadows. I did not want to do that here. I decided right then and there that I would not live that way on Orbis. Somehow I would have the life I dreamed of.

  “Everyone, gather in the common area. Now.” Weegin’s voice rang out through some sort of cent-com.

  First I needed to learn to live with Weegin. He controlled the quality of my life now far more than Switzer ever could. I would win Weegin over. That was a must. I moved to the door in the other room and stood in front of it. It would not disappear.

  “Get out of the way,” Switzer said as he moved in front of the entry sensor. Nothing happened. “Great. I bet Freak’s fakewire screwed the room up.”

  Dalton banged on the door. “There must be a computer glitch.”

  “That’s impossible,” I said, banging on the door also.

  “Use your . . . thing,” Theodore said, pointing to his own head.

  “What?”

  “That’s not going to do anything but screw it up more,” Switzer argued.

  “Can’t hurt to try,” Theodore said.

  “But what do I do?”

  “It has to be run by some sort of computer device. The skin must send a signal to tell it which door to open. Do what Theylor told you.”

  I put my hand over the sensor. Why, I don’t know; it just seemed like the thing to do. I closed my eyes and concentrated. Then, on the inside of my forehead, as if someone had mounted an O-dat inside my brain, the streams of computer code flashed before me. The code was jammed by something. I could see it — a little shiny nugget. I thought about what Theylor had told me to do. I got my mind around the blockage and gently nudged it away. At first it wouldn’t give, and then it shifted, turned, and flushed through along with the rest of the computer code. The door disappeared.

  The other boys just stood there gawking at me. No one said a word as we filed out of our room.

  I walked into a long chamber filled with loungers and more O-dats like the ones I had used to uplink my translation codec. The room looked surprisingly comfortable for someone as cheap as Weegin. Everyone was gathered around Weegin and lit by an odd and uneven glow from three arched windows running the length of the far wall. Ketheria was standing by herself and ran up to me the moment she saw me.

  “When I ask you to be somewhere, you do it immediately. I don’t care what else you’re doing,” Weegin scolded. “When I say move, you move. When I say sit, you sit. If I have to tell you twice —”

  This wasn’t how I wanted to start with him. “The door wouldn’t open,” I said, trying to cut him off.

  “I’m deducting half a chit from you for lying, Softwire. It is impossible for the central computer to have a glitch like that without maintenance notifying us,” he said.

  “But I —”

  “Are you questioning me?” Weegin said, refusing to let me explain. “The computer is self-correcting and would detect a problem like that before we even knew it!” The angrier he seemed to get, the more the spikes on his temples twisted up toward the ceiling.

  “That’s what I said,” Switzer shot out. “He wanted us to lie, but I said no.”

  I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.

  “Fine, you get his half chit,” Weegin said, commending the liar. This was getting worse.

  “I swear,” I pleaded, trying to start again. “The door was stuck, but I fixed it.”

  “I will not tolerate swearing, either. As long as you belong to me, you will represent my organization with the utmost professionalism. Children or not, you will behave like adults.”

  Ketheria put her finger to her mouth to show me not to say anything else. I looked at Weegin standing confidently, chin out and legs apart like he was ready for a fight. But it was no use. I had already lost.

  When I returned to my sleeper, I felt exhausted. The extraordinary events of the last cycle were draining from my body and I longed for sleep. I slipped the gold disc I’d brought from the Renaissance into my locker and put on the plastic pajamas. I avoided Switzer, who gloated over his sudden fortune.

  “I wonder what I’ll buy with my new money,” he said with relish.

  “Not much,” Theodore said under his breath as he examined his sleeper.

  “What did you say?” Dalton jumped to Switzer’s defense. “You don’t know anything.”

  “I didn’t say anything,” Theodore said.

  “Keep it that way,” Switzer added.

  “Leave him alone,” I said.

  Switzer turned to me. “You’re not on the Renaissance anymore, Turnbull. Mother’s not here to help you.”

  That was painfully obvious, but I said nothing. He didn’t need any more encouragement. I missed the Renaissance and I missed Mother, but I wouldn’t dare let Switzer know that. I was still determined to give Orbis a chance. I just needed to try harder.

  I stood in front of my sleeper. The Keepers had attempted to copy our sleepers from the seed-ship, but the pillow was too small and the bed was too narrow. That was probably Weegin’s doing: make it cheaper.

  “Don’t worry about them. He’ll need all the money he has to buy himself a personality,” Theodore whispered. “Look, I read about this on the ship.”

  Theodore tapped the control panel, and the lid withdrew into the wall. Another button released a headset. “This is the best part.” Theodore picked up the headset. “You can actually change your dreams with this.”

  “Change your dreams?” I said.

  “Yes. Look at these sensors here. You can adjust for color, sound, and even characters,” Theodore said. “If I remember correctly, it’s kind of crude. You can select single numbers, groups, or crowds.”

  I opened my sleeper and cradled the strange headset in my hands. Could it work? I decided to give it a try. I set mine for color: high; sound: soft; and characters: four.

  Like the ones on the seed-shi
p, these sleepers monitored the occupant’s vital signs and could seal themselves in case of oxygen loss, severe temperature change, or gravitational variances. I climbed inside, and the cover slid over me automatically.

  “Good night, JT,” Theodore said.

  “Night.”

  “Night, freak,” Switzer said.

  Dalton just snickered.

  I lay back and closed my eyes. Despite its small size, the new sleeper was far more comfortable than my old one. I pulled the sheet close to my neck, and the blue light from the sleeper lid began to fade. I wanted sleep to come so badly, but I was concerned about my sister and I couldn’t stop thinking about her. Ketheria had spent many rough nights on the Renaissance, thrashing about in her pod. I always thought she was having nightmares, but whenever I asked her about them, she acted like she didn’t know what I was talking about. On the seed-ship I had instructed Mother to always wake me at the first sign of trouble. It happened often, and I still remember her fits clearly.

  “Johnny, your sister needs you,” Mother informed me one time, waking me.

  I jumped out of my sleeper and raced to the enormous pod chamber where Ketheria, along with most of the younger children on the Renaissance, still slept. Many of the silicon nurture pods glowed blue, telling me they were occupied. Only one was rocking.

  Kneeling next to my sister’s nurture pod, I placed my hand on the chamber.

  “How long has she been like this?” I asked Mother.

  “She has been in this state for fourteen minutes and twelve seconds . . . thirteen seconds . . . fourteen seconds . . .”

  As on so many nights before, I had helplessly watched her through the silicon as she thrashed back and forth, kicking her little feet. Her long auburn hair was soaked. The sweat was dripping onto the nutrition pad.

  “Open it, Mother.”

  “Johnny, waking her is not advisable in this agitated state of —”

  “Open it!” I yelled.

  The blue light dimmed as the pod lid slid back and around. Ketheria’s teeth were chattering.

  “She’s freezing, Mother.” I lifted her in my arms and wrapped her more tightly in the thin blanket. “There’s something wrong with her nurture pod.”