Page 64 of Tapeworld Induction

“Please. I’d like to know.”

His expression went serious, more serious than before – all hope of a gentle late-night chat with his daughter now gone. “Your mother should be involved in this conversation. It’s not fair to her. And it’s not fair to me. I feel ambushed. Let’s sleep and maybe someday soon…”

“Someday soon what?” she said, accustomed to plans evaporating.

“Someday soon, we’ll see.”

Dylan grunted.

“Goodnight, sweetie,” her dad said, getting up to take his mug to the kitchen.

“G’night, Dad.”

Dylan disconnected the call.

She kicked off her Dr. Martens and placed them next to the wardrobe. The jacket she hung on a coat hanger and put back on the rack inside it.

After brushing her teeth, Dylan changed to her pyjamas and lay on the bed, staring up at the hanging geometrical decorations. Her body was exhausted, but her mind was racing. What had her parents experienced all those years back? What was the Tapeworld really? What did the Book want with it?

I’ll have to fight for it. Mum and Dad won’t get it, but they should. They did the same. They fought for what’s right.

In the blue-dark of night, she felt like she could almost make out the shine of the tape through the fabric of her bag. She nearly got up, thinking to jack back in and look for answers. Then the image of the black spots came into her head. She closed her eyes, trying to forget all of it.

Her phone vibrated.

@isaak: i’m home. hope you are too? sleep well xx

She smiled, a warm feeling nestling on her chest.

@dylan: I am. you too xx

It was just two Xs, not a real kiss, and not uncommon between friends. But it made her happy.

23

Sheer Power

Isaak

She’s special. How am I not going to fuck everything up with her, with my track record?

He stayed on the monorail until London Bridge, where he changed for an intercity rail to Brixton. The night air smelled of booze and cigarettes, and rang with the wreckage of still-ongoing merriment in the streets of his neighbourhood. Laughter, shouting, and chatting, any blanks filled by techno music whose volume made it hard to ignore and even harder to identify. Neon signs were the only source of lighting. All the lamp-posts had been malfunctioning for a while, the council unable to source funding to fix basic problems.

He walked through the dishevelled streets, and up the six flights of stairs to his flat, biting through the pain in his bum knee, just wanting to get through the door.

So much on his mind today, but still something from the day before refused to leave him alone: the Second Revivalist statue he saw in the Boulevard, of Eltarc Romly. He hadn’t even spoken to Dylan about it yet. I’m sure she’s terrified of them, like me… It was common sense nowadays that the people’s welfare was for the greater good, but it wasn’t back when those people had showed up. The Revolt helped free the world of them. Eltarc was killed, and the Revivalists disbanded.

But that statue…? Maybe they were never really gone. Just hiding in plain sight, following the new laws, eating plants and making plans. Who knew?

Settling into his black chair, his thoughts of the Revivalists turned into thoughts about the Book. Their primary product, StreetSocial, was not only the largest social network in the world, it was now effectively the only one. The thought of the Tapeworld becoming another victim of the Book’s endless hunger sickened him.

The reasons he wanted the Tapeworld to remain independent, hidden from the general population, an invitation-only place, free of government regulations, were very different from the reasons that a wild-eyed mob like the Second Revivalists would want it, but the idea that he’d agree with those people over anything left him shaken.

Isaak swiped through the contacts on his phone. His index finger hovered over Astrid’s avatar. A vision of her, naked, flashed in his mind. He shook it away, but he couldn’t help thinking of all the gigs he’d done for her, until inevitably he saw in his mind the face of the man he’d shot. His chest tightened and the pit opened up in his stomach. Something threatened to come up and he ran to the small bathroom, leant over the toilet, and retched.

He only left the bathroom after puking what felt like his whole guts up, belly and throat aching. Fucking hell. I was used. Stealing from the Book, shooting a… He still couldn’t convince himself it was a bot. Fuck. He did the best he could to clean himself up. Get it together. After a quick shower and some fresh clothes, he sat back at his black desk chair. The white Lazarus tee hadn’t made it out of the episode unscathed, and he tossed it into the bin. He didn’t know if that was the last one he had and he didn’t care.

Already he longed to get back into the Tapeworld, demand answers from Astrid.