Perdido Street Station - China Mieville [176]
Derkhan read the note. Her face hardened in disgust and outrage. She held it up so that Lemuel could read it. After a moment, Yagharek stalked over and read it over Lemuel’s shoulder, from inside his hood.
Serachin. Further to our meeting. Enclosed is payment and instructions. Der Grimnebulin and associates will be brought to justice on Chainday 8th Tathis. The militia will apprehend him at his residence at 9 o’clock in the evening. You are to ensure that der Grimnebulin and all working with him are present from 6 o’clock onwards. You will be present during the raid, to avoid suspicion falling upon you. Our agents have seen heliotypes of you, in addition to which you are to wear red. Our officers will do everything possible to avoid casualties, but this cannot be guaranteed, and your clear self-identification is crucial.
Sally.
Lemuel blinked, looked up.
“It’s today,” he said, and blinked again. “Chainday’s today. They’re coming.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Isaac ignored Lemuel. He was standing directly in front of the construct, which moved almost uneasily before his intense gaze.
“How did you know, Isaac?” shouted Derkhan, and Isaac raised his finger and jerked it at the construct.
“I was tipped off. David betrayed us,” he whispered. “My mate. Been on a hundred damn benders with him, done drinking, done riots . . . the fuck sold me out. And I got tipped off by a damn construct.” He poked his face right into the construct’s lens. “You understand me?” he whispered incredulously. “You with me? You . . . wait, you’ve got audio inputs, haven’t you? Turn around . . . turn if you understand me . . .”
Lemuel and Derkhan glanced at each other.
“Isaac, mate,” said Lemuel witheringly, but his words petered out into astonished silence.
Slowly, deliberately, the construct was turning around.
“What the fuck is it doing?” hissed Derkhan.
Isaac turned to her.
“I’ve no idea,” he hissed. “I’ve heard of this, but I didn’t know it could actually happen. It’s had some virus, hasn’t it? CI . . . Constructed Intelligence . . . I can’t believe it’s real . . .”
He turned back and gazed at the construct. Derkhan and Lemuel approached it, as, after a moment’s hesitation, did Yagharek.
“It’s impossible,” said Isaac suddenly. “It doesn’t have an intricate enough engine for independent thought. It is impossible.”
The construct lowered its pointer and backed away to a nearby pile of dust. It dragged its spike through it, and spelt out clearly: It is.
At the sight, the three humans hissed and gasped.
“What the fuck . . . ?” yelled Isaac. “You can read and write . . . you . . .” He shook his head, then looked up at the construct, hard and cold again in a moment. “How did you know?” he said. “And why did you warn me?”
It was quickly clear, however, that this was an explanation that would have to wait. As Isaac waited intently, Lemuel glanced up at the clock and started nervously. It was late.
It took a minute, but Lemuel and Derkhan convinced Isaac that they had better flee the workshop now with the construct. They had better act on the information they had been given, even if they didn’t understand where it had come from.
Isaac protested weakly, tugging at the construct. He denounced David to Hell, then marvelled at the construct’s intelligence. He screamed rage and cast an analytical eye on the transformed cleaning engine. He was confused. Derkhan’s and Lemuel’s urgent insistence that they must move infected him.
“Yes, David is a godsdamn shit. And yes, the construct is a godsdamn miracle, Isaac,” hissed Derkhan, “but it’s going to be a wasted one if we don’t leave now.”
And in an infuriating, tantalizing end to the matter, the construct spread the dust out again as Isaac watched, and carefully scrawled: Later.
Lemuel thought