Fractions_ The First Half of the Fall Revolution - Ken MacLeod [111]
Janis appeared, towelling her hair.
‘Soft water,’ she said. ‘Now what do we do about breakfast?’
Moh pointed out of the window. ‘I think it’s on its way.’
When the humvee pulled up they went downstairs and stood blinking in the sunlight, screwing up their eyes to see MacLennan and Van standing on the doorstep. They were both wearing chinos and open-necked shirts and carrying large brown paper bags.
‘Breakfast, citizens,’ MacLennan said.
‘Thanks,’ Kohn said, the smell of fresh rolls and bacon reminding him of how long it had been since he’d eaten. ‘Come on in.’
Kohn and MacLennan dragged a table and four chairs out on the veranda. Van, who seemed familiar with the layout of the house, helped Janis find plates and cutlery. While they were eating, the two ANR cadres pointedly avoided talking about anything more than the weather and the food. Van smoked Marlboros, more or less between bites. Kohn accepted one after he’d finished eating. MacLennan tilted his chair back and began filling a pipe. Janis moved upwind of all three, arm-hopped her backside on to the veranda railing and leaned forward, elbows on knees.
‘Well?’ she said.
‘Well, indeed,’ MacLennan said. He had a strong Highland or perhaps Island accent, both guttural and nasal, a carrier-wave white noise behind his speech. ‘You want some explanations. So do we. We are not at all happy with what’s been going on in the system in recent days. Not at all,’ he repeated slowly, jabbing with the stem of his pipe and beetling his brows at Kohn. ‘What – have – you – done?’
‘How do you know I’ve done anything?’ Kohn asked.
‘We know who you are,’ said MacLennan. ‘We know about your parents, and we suspect that you have released something your father left in the system.’
‘How?’
‘I’ll tell you,’ Van said. ‘First, I take it you are familiar with my work and my position?’
Janis nodded and Moh said, ‘Yeah, she told me. How come you’re a scientific adviser to the ANR?’
‘I have been seconded to that position by a fraternal organization, the Lao Dong.’
‘Aha,’ said Kohn. Of course they would be allies.
Janis frowned. ‘What’s that?’
‘What you know as the NVC,’ Van explained, ‘has a core, which has had many names. Currently it’s called the Vietnam Workers’ Party: Vietnam Lao Dong.’
‘What does it stand for?’
Van’s back straightened as he said: ‘National unification. Independence. A free-market economy.’
‘Oh, right,’ Janis said. ‘The communists.’ She sounded as if something had just made sense.
‘That is correct,’ Van said proudly. ‘We have always held that nothing is more precious than independence and freedom.’
‘I take it that doesn’t apply to Da Nang Phytochemicals,’ Janis said wryly.
Van laughed. ‘It isn’t a front company, if that’s what you’re thinking. But –’ He paused, his gaze focusing on the glowing coal of his cigarette. He looked up. ‘At least not for my Party. Some of our research has – I have now realized – been coordinated by some other organization. Most of it has been innocuous, constructing databases of gene sequences for as many species as possible.’
‘The Genome Project?’ Kohn remembered reading about it – controversy had raged on the nets for, oh, hours and hours once about whether it was a beneficial, conservationist measure or just a scam by ruthless Yanomamo-owned drug companies.
‘That, yes,’ said Van. ‘However, it seems that another area was research into learning and memory—’
‘You didn’t know what I was doing?’ Janis asked.
‘Oh, yes,’ Van said. ‘In general terms. But not that it violated the deep-technology guidelines. A few days ago, we learned’ – he waved a smoke-trailing hand – ‘through sources that need not concern you that Stasis were about to audit your