Engineman - Eric Brown [6]
He returned his gaze to the interface. He closed his eyes. Even the darkness was tinged with the blue light that glowed through his eyelids. If the Disciple's theology was to be believed, then right now Macready was being absorbed into the vastness which underlay everything, the infinite realm of the nada-continuum.
Silently he cursed the flux and its terrible consequences.
He heard the vehicle before he saw it.
When he opened his eyes and turned his head, the police cruiser was settling on the rooftop beside his flier. The cop climbed out, stretching after a long shift. Mirren knew the officer from the nightly patrols he made around the 'port. He'd even joined Mirren on the chesterfield, sharing a drink and appreciating the dawn view.
"Ralph," the cop said, striding over. He saw Macready. "Got company?"
"He's dead." Mirren laid back his head and stared at the stars. He was aware of the cop, kneeling beside him. When he looked, the officer was performing a routine on-the-spot autopsy. He strapped a sleek black device to Macready's forearm, and a dozen sub-dermals pumped a host of nanomedic drones into the dead Engineman's moribund circulatory system.
The cop stood with the device, reading off the cause of death. "Don't worry yourself," he said, misinterpreting Mirren's silence. "You couldn't have done a thing."
Mirren smiled to himself. "He came to the 'port to kill himself." He indicated the interface.
The cop laughed. "He did? That case, it'd save a lot of work if I just dumped him in the 'face."
"He was a Disciple of the Nada-Continuum," Mirren said. "In the circumstances I think he would have wanted a formal funeral."
The cop strode away and spoke quietly into his handset. Mirren looked at his watch. There were still a few hours to go before dawn broke over the city.
Fifteen minutes later the ambulance arrived, landing on the rooftop in a wash of revolving light. Mirren moved from the chesterfield - he really wanted to remain where he was, lethargic with apathy and depression, but that might have appeared crass. He watched the paramedics load the body of the old Engineman onto a stretcher and carry it across to the ambulance. It lifted, turned on its axis and banked away towards the centre of Paris, followed by the police cruiser.
Mirren tried to analyse his feelings, find within himself some compassion. He wondered if what he did feel was nothing more than the fear that he too would one day end his life as Macready had, one more unmourned Engineman. As he sat in silence and stared at the constellations overhead, he began to regret that he had denied the oldster his final wish to be taken by the flames of the interface.
Chapter Two
Ella Fernandez surfaced from her dream like a diver coming up for air. She sat bolt upright, gasping with panic. As the dream receded and became abstract she managed to control her breathing. Soon all she could recall was the ill-defined image of her father, walking away from her. She tried to persuade herself that the figure could have been any male, or a representation of every man she'd ever known, but she knew she was selling herself a lie. It was ironic that ever since she'd left him ten years ago, her father had followed her, turning up in her dreams with the regularity of a one-time star guesting on crummy vid-shows.
Ella fumbled in the darkness for the light-pad beside the bed. The room was large and high-ceilinged, the walls decorated with abstract murals. Her other work, her serious work - oils, acrylics, a few plasma graphics - leaned against the walls in back-to-front stacks.
The double-doors to the balcony were open to admit the warm breeze, the fragrance of flowers masking the stale smell of the mould which rashed the ceiling. While she'd slept, an alien creeper had found the opening and worked its way in. The magnificent red-and-yellow striped bloom hung above her head, presenting its spread petals and erect stamen like a gift. Ella smiled at it. "Too bad