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The characters, events and organisations in this story are either products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to real people or organisations is coincidental and unintended. Going Nova By Emma Smith Friday, 14 February 2003 Chapter 1 System Compromise I sweep through the airport arrivals lounge with my entourage behind me. I am in full flow, an unstoppable force. Network camera drones track and focus as I march forward. Some of them are forced to swerve by the crowds surrounding me. One bounces off a pillar and has to recover to avoid hitting a bystander. It lifts up by twenty feet and reorients itself. Its lenses are probing for a good view of me. I'll be on all your screens tonight. You'll watch me arrive in this place several times, from all the best angles. My face will be projected onto the walls of your room. You'll meet me in your fantasises when you sleep. What will I say to you? I know what I'd say if I was really with you. Who will buy the tawdry products the network will edit onto my image and push down your throats? You all will my friends. Why? I am young. I am beautiful, I am famous and you are all fools. The illiterate generation, never read a book or seen a play. All thirst for knowledge ruthlessly marketed away, an impediment to consumption. And you know what's worse? I hate my part in this charade more than I despise you all. I used to have some ideals, some things to believe in. Do you think I'd actually wear the things they show me in? Do you think she would? But you know nothing of the truth and you never will. You'll never care enough to ask and they'll never tell you. There's a concert here on Saturday. I, no she, will be singing. The kind of pap the downmarket channels love to push. It will be a sell out and she'll get the adulation. But she can't spare three days to meet her fans and face the pressing mob. She can't chance on dodging the crazy stalker with the knife. She can't spend her valuable time doing things that only earn her money indirectly. That's my job. I exist for these occasions. I stand in the frenzy of the crowds and smile. I let them think they've seen and met her. I make the fans believe that they're a part of something. In fact she probably hates them more than I do. She gets the glory and hands off the grubby physical contact to someone else. That's what I do. I am her stand-in. I continue walking, thinking how much I hate myself. But I keep smiling. I have to smile. She always smiles. I smile for her. I hate this. Keep walking. Don't look down. Don't let them know how you feel. Don't break the iron shackles of your contract or you'll be back on the streets watching someone else doing your job and losing their soul to it. They'll take her body image away too. That's copyright law. I'll be an unpopular little man again with no prospect of affording anything better. That's got to be worse than lying to myself. I must keep moving and smiling. I'm not supposed to be thinking like this when in character. I do it to defy them, because I can. In a few years they maybe won't need either her or me. Stars will be entirely manufactured and manipulated. Maybe they won't even be human. It won't be much of a leap from here. Many of them seem like robots now. Their fake smiles are stitched onto empty heads. A loud noise distracts me and I whip my head round to see one of the security team clubbing someone to the floor. He is crying and I watch him being dragged away protesting weakly. He looks too dopey to be a threat. Probably just got overwhelmed by my presence and freaked out. I continue my march into the five-star hotel near to the airport gate. I don't bother to check in. They know who I am and they've already been well paid. I walk to the private lift. It's there waiting for me. I step into it and shoot upwards to the suite. Alone now in my hotel room I place the bio key to my neck and deactivate my extra glamour. The physical changes are subtle. I lose some of my flawless sheen as micro currents stop flowing through facial muscles but that's all. I no longer need it today. No one is watching me now. I can relax a little. I could discard a little more of her physical self but I seldom do. Hardly ever when I'm working. Some of the procedures are time consuming to carry out and I'll have to resume my costume first thing tomorrow anyway. In my head Recall shuts down and its files are withdrawn from my mind space. The few pieces of herself she gives me to enable the masquerade fade away. I have some peace and privacy again. I am no longer primed. I am entirely myself and I can enjoy that for a few minutes. I check the time. It's getting late and I am so very tired. I don't know why travelling and pretending tires me so much but I hear that other actors feel the same way when they're on tour. I want to sleep now but I want something else first. I can give myself five minutes. I have little enough time to myself this week. I take the book from the bedside table. The unseen ones that unpacked for me left it there in plain sight. I don't have many other valuable possessions with me. I'm a truly ironic goddess of consumerism. I sell everything to everyone but own next to nothing myself. My temple never threw out the moneylenders on the steps. Instead they invited them in. They handed them the keys to my worshippers' hearts and credit accounts. I turn the yellowing pages carefully. This is my friend and companion. It's circled three worlds with me. Imagine that. The author of this wrote about heroic explorers. His characters visited the moon to discover its secrets for science and honour. My owners sent me 250,000 miles just to sell perfume. I wore the guise of a famous singer with a pretty face. I'm glad he never saw our world as it is. I hate it all. I start to read and a few minutes later I am sailing on the Nautilus. A shipwrecked survivor bound by my promise to the enigmatic Captain. I've read the book hundreds of times and it still never fails to engage me. For a while I can distract myself with it. It reminds me of youth and innocence. The dried essence of thousands of books are on the net of course, it's not the same to me though. Forget the access fees and expiry dates. Holding a real book in your hand and turning the pages is an experience. Everyone used to say they'd make book shaped readers with endlessly changing electronic pages. They never guessed that reading itself might fall out of favour. The buzzer at the door annoys me. I have to stop reading, carefully marking my page with a silver bookmark. I haven't ordered room service and security should keep people away. Even a slight exposure can sink me for good. "Who is it?" I call. "Medical tech. Routine check." There's no routine work scheduled. I don't know why he's here so late either but I release the latch anyway, ready to protest. The door bursts open against me and I fly backwards as he charges into my room. Seconds later I'm lying on the bed with a jabbing needle in my arm. I struggle weakly but can't move properly. I see he's closed the door and is unpacking things from a bag. "What? Who are you?" "I'm here to help." I don't recognise his voice. I guess it doesn't matter anyway. It will have been borrowed for the occasion. He rolls me onto my side and I feel something at my neck. A mismatched bio key. If he uses that the medical team will be here in two minutes max. It's part of the contract for the systems they implanted in me. An alarm tone starts in my head. That's it. I'll be out of here soon. As long as he's not some sick killer that's into mutilation the medical cavalry will fry him before he can hurt me. The hospital alarm board must be lit up now. I hear the calm and unwelcome internal voice of my systems monitor imposed on my mental sound stage: "Access Violation." I don't panic. It just means he's tried to break in. I see he has no weapon in his other hand and I start to relax. By the time he can pull a knife and cut me up I'll be out of here. The warning tone in my head changes pitch and starts to strobe urgently. I hear the voice repeating a chilling warning. "Warning: No Interlocks. Warning. No Interlocks." Where is that damn medical team? They should be here by now. I wait for the sound of running feet down the corridor but I don't hear any. He doesn't seem to be in any hurry. Then I have a sick feeling that the only alarm sounding is in my head. This is an inside job. Nobody is coming to help me. He continues to manipulate the device at my neck and the warning tone changes again. "Danger: Rogue Insertion. System Compromise. Seek emergency medical attention now. Danger: Rogue Insertion." No, that can't be right. He's put a program inside my head and it's trying to gain supervisor access to me. It's not possible. Keys are guaranteed unique and individually locked. I feel sick. I didn't pay for my hardware. When you buy a lock you always get a spare key. An inside job. Jesus! He's going to get in! I'm as we say in the trade, royally fucked. Panic starts in earnest but in my drugged state I can do little against it. I struggle weakly again but don't feel any response from my limbs. Now I get a visual display to correspond with the alarm. It blinks "Defensive Integrity Zero" in red and the alarm screams like a banshee in my perception. I blank it out before it sends me mad. "What are you doing?" I asked. "You might say I'm upgrading you to first class." Those damn hackers love to parody corporate bullshit. I see a logo and a facsimile of software ident and copyright string. The logo changes into the image of a brain; rotating and changing colour before my view. The image melts and reforms like flowing metal. It looks like stupid icons do in crappy 2D displays. I can't help but perceive the ident string. It's burned into my head. It's not like I can look away. I see the words. I see "PsychPrint 1.01 Active." It's in me now. It's the last thing I see as darkness engulfs me. Chapter 2 Lifetime Upgrade I wake feeling relatively normal but still groggy. A brief visual check shows no injuries. I'd expected that. My assailant is no slasher or celebrity trophy screwball. God the networks loved that guy. He got souvenir body parts from five of us before the security team shot him down with the riot gun. It was prime time for weeks, a reconstruction of his attacks, the works. I stare at the man, like I'm waiting for a hanging judge to pronounce a sentence. He says nothing to me. A second man drags another woman in through the door and dumps her in a chair. What's this? I'm the primary stand in for this week? What is she doing here? She's on backup. Her head rolls forward. I assume they've drugged her with the same stuff I got. The man nods at me and for no reason I find myself using the video terminal. The connection is near instantaneous. The watcher behind me stays carefully out of shot and the drugged woman is just visible. "Hey, Asshole!" I tell him without knowing why. "Sophia! Good to see you." "Bullshit. I'm really pissed off with you and your lousy security." "What?" He asked. "My stand-in has gone nuts. Dragged me out here. She's absolutely wacko, babbling all the time She thinks she's me and she wants to take over." "Sounds insane. What do you want me to do?" "Fire her. I can't stand crazy people. Of course I'll pay for her treatment, get her started out again." "Full termination clauses?" "Absolutely! Revoke that likeness. I want it all back." I tell him. "You're the star baby!" "Damn right I am." I smile at him. After disconnecting I sit down and continue to stare ahead fixedly. The guiding hand has left me. I wonder at what I've just done, that didn't sound like me at all. "Excellent. A successful integration." He said. "Just what the fuck is going on here?" "Not that bright are you? You are now, more or less, her." He points at the woman in the chair. So she's not the other stand in. She's the real one. "You're now a rich and successful rock star. PsychPrint operates you and we control it. You can work out the rest yourself." "What the fuck?" I asked. I'm still not getting all this. "We've integrated a full profile with every scrap of data we can get on her life. We've also loaded some extras. You won't need Recall any more. You've got the works now. The catch is that you're not a free agent. Psyche controls you as required." "What if I don't play?" "You still don't get it. Smarten up girl. Think it through." "It's hard to think, the drugs." I said, groggily. "They'll wear off. Oh and you didn't just get the one upload. I gave you SelfLock and another one too. They're just crude hacks by comparison. Psyche is our masterpiece." "Who are you?" "We're an aggressive start up. You might say we've seen a gap in the market." "What market?" "Crime. Most mobs out there are losers. They've still got 20th Century minds. Stealing credit cards? We're stealing minds. You belong to us now and we're going to be big." "I don't know." He gestures. I don't get chance to finish what I want to say. I find I'm instantly lying on the bed, being undressed. He leans over me. "That's SelfLock. Instant catatonia for bad girls who don't behave." He leant over, closer to my naked form. "It would be lots of fun to take your famous little body in my arms and fuck you senseless. But hey, we've both got better things to do." "You bastard!" "What's the difference? You sold out when you took the job. It won't be any worse now. You get more of the goodies in fact." "Fuck off!" I shouted. "You get a lot of money and we get a very big cut of it. Your management wouldn't play with us. So we do it this way instead." He steps back from the bed. "Simon says get up!" I don't want to but I have no choice. My body moves and I find myself getting up and standing by the bed. "Don't upset Simon. He knows how to hurt you." "Stop it!" I screamed. "I can't stop doing all these things. I don't want to do them. Fuck off and die!" "I know you don't mean that. And nobody has to die either. Well, nobody much. What's she like anyway?" "Honestly? I hardly know her. She doesn't mix with the help." I said. "I'll leave you two to get acquainted then. You're all switched on now. Be a star for us darling! Don't make me come back and get you. That will hurt." He leaves, laughing to himself and carrying my other unconscious form over his shoulder. I fall back on to the bed. Chapter 3 No Strings Attached To my shame I still don't understand my situation. I assume that when he's gone I can just call someone and get everything sorted out. The police will be able to help. I mean rogue software implantation is a capital crime. He talked like some big shot criminal. The guy was an idiot to walk out and let me identify him to the cops. I press the button on the video and try to call the police. I find I'm dialling the front desk. I don't know why. I hang up. Anger builds in me and I key the phone again for the police. I watch my finger hit the button to call reception. I don't bother to tell them who I am. The whole planet knows me. As the image forms on the screen my mind twists again and someone is speaking for me. "Hey!" "Yes Ms. Ashcroft." "I'm checking out. Get all my stuff and me on the next orbital to Paris. Tell them to dump some losers if you have to. No forget it. Leave all my junk here and burn it. I'll replace it. Just get me out of here." "Yes Ma'am!" They start to jump into action immediately. I make another call to my manager and concert promoter. "Sophia! It's always good to see you. How are rehearsals?" "It's off." "What?" His fixed smile evaporated instantly. "It's a hick town. I'm bored of it already. Cancel it." "What about all the kids? Your fans?" "Oh! Boo fucking hoo! Buy em a burger each for fuck's sake. Tell their dads to build a half decent fucking town worth shit." "Sophia. Look I think you should calm down a bit." "Don't 'look' me. I can only see one bright little star in this little bit of the universe. Is it you? It's me isn't it? I'm on the next flight out of Dullsville USA. "But!" "Cancel it. Tell em I've got a headache." "You can't do this!" I give him the finger and disconnect. I can do what I want. I'm an important woman. I'm the star. For a second I feel an inner glow and my own personality flickers in and out. The software is playing with something in my head again. I walk out without looking around. My discarded book sits in the wastebasket behind me. I leave everything except a small bag. I don't need to carry junk around. Not now when I have everything. Before long I am back at the airport, making the same processional parade as before. The cameras are floating around me in an even bigger frenzy. It's a long time since I cancelled a concert. They want to know why. I guess my PR agency will make something up. I'm tired or something. Yeah, that'll be it. I got some privacy on the plane. They've cleared the front part and curtained it off for my crew. Part way through the short flight I get a call. My other standby just got knifed. I say of course I'll pay her medical bills and I feign concern. I say there's not much point hiring a replacement. The stand-in concept hasn't worked out too well. From now on it's just going to be me. Do I say it or does the software. Is there a difference now? When we land I'm taken straight to a waiting limousine. It's huge and black with dark windows. I climb nonchalantly into the back seat and relax into the leather seats. A glass of champagne is in my hand before I know it. The door closes and we set off. This is the life. I can easily get used to this. Her house is huge and must be worth a fortune. I wander around it and get lost. There are so many rooms. I bet many of them have never been used. They are all lavishly furnished but I sense it's mostly for show. I wander out onto the massive patio. There's a big pool outside too. It looks so inviting. Everything is landscaped to perfection. Like the inside of the place it's got that artificial feeling though. I test my limits again. I try and walk to the main gate and open it. The simple action is beyond me because it would not occur to her. She'd send someone out to get something for her. She wouldn't leave the house now, so I can't leave it either. I still find it hard to handle this feeling that I can't control my actions fully. I go back inside to her main bedroom. She has three huge wardrobes full of clothes. It's probably impossible to wear everything she owns. I smile to myself. I'll certainly give it a try. Previously they only allowed me a few costumes to keep up the pretence. Now I have racks of clothes. I spend a few seconds lying on the bed then I check out the other features of the room. There's a big vanity table that goes with her big vanity. The en-suite bathroom is sparkling. The massive bath is sunk into the floor and has taps that look to be gold. I walk round the whole house, trying to see everything. I need to at least get an idea where everything is. I must be careful not to be too obvious though. There are security people wandering around. I don't want to spook any of them. I tell myself not to be silly. They'll never say anything to me. I'm in charge here. I can do what I like. Her personality flickers in and out again. The software seems to give me just enough of her to do whatever I need to. The frightening thing is that it's addictive. The sense of power and control I feel when I'm being her is so seductive. There's a danger that I'll end up losing myself to it. I sit in a leather chair, musing about my situation and trying to be calm. There's a chime as an unblocked call comes in. I feel her again, taking control of me. Doubts vanish immediately and I know what I want. "Hi Sophie baby!" "Don't call me that. This is business remember." I told him. It's him. The boy band member I'm supposed to be going out with. Just so stupid kids will buy more of our records. It's not worth it. He's a jerk. "I know babe but I'm getting a bit lonely. I thought we might actually get together for real." "What? You know the score. We hold hands for the cameras. We smile a bit. Let's face it. Smiling is your main achievement." I said. "But!" "We absolutely do not fuck. That's in the contract. And do you know why I had that written into the contract?" "No." He said, looking puzzled. "It's because I hate you. I find you physically repulsive. You make me ill just thinking about you touching me. If we slept together I'd be fantasising that I was someone else. Are you taking all this in?" "Look Sophie." "Don't use that tone with me. I'm a fucking star. You're just one out of five talentless kids. I'm a great singer. Your major musical talent is having nice hair." "I just thought." He tried to say. "Don't get into unfamiliar territory. We stick to the deal. We smile for the cameras. We let the media write rumours about us. That's it." "Okay. You want to play hard to get. I can understand that." He disconnects. I sit back. That guy must have a lump of lead for a brain. I suppose he can't imagine women that don't like him. I bet he gets plenty of action from his fans. It's a shame their last record didn't do that well. I definitely won't sleep with someone on the way down. I don't need losers in my life. What was I doing before he called? Without much sense of transition I'm back to being myself. It seems I am going to get some downtime on this job. I hope I can cope with it. Being her is very easy but I need to remember myself too. Sadly I realise I don't have my old favourite book any more. Of course I can get a new copy but it won't be the same old friend. It won't be the same one I've taken to three worlds. At any time, when her whim takes me, I'll just discard it again. She discards anything that she doesn't care about or isn't immediately useful. The only thing she really cares about is her career. I used to be different; I thought I had ideals that kept me going. It's incredibly old fashioned but I thought I had standards. I took this job thinking it to be just more acting. Now I've had a long look into an empty place where only fame matters. Since they've put her in my head my morals mean nothing. They disappear when she directs me places my better self would shun if it hadn't been deadened already. Chapter 4 The Drowning Piano The first truck that arrives at the gate takes me by surprise. I cover up for it and quickly learn that there's a party tonight. It's the third big one I've thrown lately. Lots of famous people will be here. There'll be cameras from every major network hovering just outside the grounds. It would be naive to invite them in. There'll be much better coverage if they think they're doing something clever and illegal. Things are going to kick off at seven. There's little if anything for me to do. I just have to play yet another part. Tonight I'm the glamorous hostess. People I hired will do all the actual work. They'll set up the party of a lifetime and then tear it all down in the morning like some film set. Everyone here will say how great it was. In a few weeks time it will merge into the memory of all the other parties they've been to since. They might remember my little stunt for a while though, if it works. Tonight only famous people will be here. It's a safe bet there'll be no symphonies written, theorems proved or poems scribbled down in a frantic flow. There'll be laughing and joking. People will tell each other how pleased they are to be here, how good everyone is looking, how great the party is. Little of it will be true. I don't even have to decide what to wear. One of the fashion houses is lending me the outfit for the occasion. All I have to do is wear their dress and they'll make sure their name is in the coverage the party will get tomorrow. I'll have no choice. I am not my own master. Is anyone really? Like the man said I sold out when I took the job in the first place. Underneath it all I still think I'm a basically good person. I'm just playing a part. Like when an actress plays a killer in a movie. It doesn't make her bad does it? She doesn't have sleepless nights about it later. I sit by the pool and watch them assembling the stage where the band will be playing. It's set back from the pool on a raised platform. Cables snake out from it to other boxes they're setting up all around the place. I assume they're lights or more speakers. I hope they don't damage any of my plants. I suppose they won't. I can afford the best. While I'm sitting there I get another call. It's my management again. I tell the house to stop them coming in after this one. "Hi Baby!" He said. "I wish people would stop calling me that." "Sorry. I just wanted to tell you we've set up your next concert." "Oh." "Yeah. I had a think about it. You were right. There's no way we should have had you playing that hick town. My best girl deserves better." "Get to the point." I chided. "We're setting up a big one. It'll be a big stadium event. We've got buy-in from various sponsors already." "Cool. Make it somewhere fashionable." "We will baby." "And I want a bigger cut." I demanded. "Baby! Be reasonable. You get more than most people already." "Am I most people? No. Remember who I am. You make a shit load of money out of me." "Now. There's no need to get upset." He said. "I am not upset. Once again I'm telling you the fucking obvious. You need me. Great! Well, you've got to pay." "I'll see what I can do. Have a good party." I'm quite looking forward to singing. I'm famous for it. I need to sing. I need that crowd shouting for me. It's a near sexual thrill to have tens of thousands of people calling out your name. I'll probably agree to their deal. They know they're onto a good thing. I'll get my little bonus. If not then the little bird won't sing and all the bad men will have lighter wallets. They'll play along in the end. The party work is building into frenzy. I move inside to get some peace and quiet. I close the patio door, blocking out the perfect day. Then I turn on the air conditioning and set it to cool the place. It's just another retreat from an inconvenient reality. I review the list of guests and make sure I know who they all are. I prime myself with when I last met them all and what we were doing. It's easy with all the knowledge I'm carrying now. I should have no problems tonight. I still prepare myself though. Nothing must go wrong and I'm still under a compulsion to make sure it doesn't. When I see myself in the dress I am pleased and smile into the mirror. Thankfully they've sent something wearable and thankfully it's black. Black is in now anyway and it always looks sophisticated. I'd never touch most of the stuff they show on the catwalks. It's totally impractical. The dress is nicely cut and exquisitely made. It hugs my curves perfectly. It has a bodice with one shoulder and the effect is both sexy and classy. It has minimal decorations, avoiding another mistake I've seen too often. It wouldn't be the first time I've had to tear an excessive flowery thing from an outfit. They sent all the accessories too. There's a gorgeous pair of shoes. The heels are rather high but the leather is so soft they're easy to wear. My feet won't hurt tonight unless I really overdo the dancing. I don't think it's going to be that sort of party. I just need to be seen. I click open the safe and decide on what to wear from my collection of expensive jewels. I go for understated elegance. It will fit in with the rest of the clothes. When you look like I do and wear the things I have you don't have to try too hard. A woman comes in to do my hair. I say little to her and she doesn't seem to want to talk. I just let her do her job. She leaves my hair sleek and straight, catching the light perfectly. I am going to look so good tonight. I hope they send lots of cameras. I do my own make-up. I have an amazing selection to choose from. I don't pick out the most famous name. I go for the one I know works best for me. I rapidly set up a perfect evening look and risk reddening my lips. It's a bit redder than is strictly fashionable right now but hell, it's women like me that set the trends. I gently apply a final sprinkling of powder to finish off. I make sure I'm ready in time and run down the special things planned with the organisers. Each guest will get a special gift when they leave. Another of my sponsorship deals coming through. I'm amazed to find out that this lavish party will cost me next to nothing. It's all paid for by a web of deals and favours owed. My original self is somehow repelled by the idea of it all. I'm also glowing with the knowledge that she'll be the centre of attention. I can't help but share that too. At the moment I have a slight distance but when things get underway I'll have to be her completely. As I walk around the patio to check the arrangements I can see the first cameras hovering nearby. They're boosting them high up in the air to take photos over the walls. For now I ignore them. I can play up to them later. I laugh as I imagine them having a live feed of a woman walking around her garden. They might even show it. Somehow these days fame is everything. If you have it then nothing else matters. If you lose it then anything can happen. Several bright stars have ended up in the dust after they faded. More than one has been found in a dirty hotel room somewhere, holding a bottle or a gun. One of the cameras gets a little too close to the wall and security zaps it. It bobs around and pulls back, disoriented for a second as though drunk. We don't want them getting any ideas. They're here to see what I want them to see. I won't have them harassing my guests. They're going to watch the show. They connect those that need to be seen with the people who need to see them. The extra security people have arrived and they deploy around the house. They're pretty obvious but that's what my guests will expect. They'll feel much better knowing all these people are around to protect them. It will make them feel more important. I wonder who will the first to arrive. Really famous and vain people will be late. Only the insecure will be here early. I'll tell them it doesn't matter of course. They'll be kicking themselves for not hanging back a while. It turns out to be two singers I vaguely recognise. I thought it might be them. They're only here to round out the numbers anyway. Their career is in trouble lately so the gossip goes. They could be out of the limelight soon. They might even split up. Of course I say nothing. I don't have to point out that they're the first here. They know that. I can see the pain on their faces when they realise. Still it isn't for long. Other people start to arrive and I laugh to note that they do so in rough order of precedence. That's precedence in the self-indulgent world of those who appear on stage or screen. The house and garden soon fill up. I try and encourage people outside because I know what's coming. I stare at the empty spot where the band will be and catch the eye of one of the event organisers. He nods. I circulate round the guests. I try not to let people monopolise my time. People are trying to get me to help them out. I get all sorts of pitches. I can use my contacts to help them out. They've got an illness in the family. I hear them all. Sometimes I think the entire world is one big hard luck story. It seems chock full of people who could have made it but never got the breaks. I steel myself against it. I make my own breaks. These people are whiners. Sometimes I get useful approaches. I talk to a couple of producers who are casting for their next film. I wouldn't be the first singer to make it in the movies and the camera certainly likes me. I make sure they see that. I smile my radiant smile for them and touch my hair. I give them a woman's little signals and let them draw their own conclusions. No sense in being too obvious. We all hear the whine of an approaching engine but none of the guests knows what it means. I do. It means this party will make the news tonight. The noise gets louder and people start to look up. It's heading right this way. The band members are waiting expectantly near the stage. The event manager signals to them to be ready. The aircraft releases its load and the thing starts to plummet. There is a gasp as the parachutes open and people realise there is a grand piano floating down towards them. Shit! They screwed up. They promised me pinpoint accuracy. They promised to put it down right on stage, next to the band. The piano lands with a splash right in the middle of the pool. Security men cut the parachutes away and remove them. A bemused pianist lands in the water by the piano and releases his chute. He tries to play the waterlogged instrument. It sounds terrible. I see the cameras going into a frenzy of motion. I stroll out to the poolside and hand a glass of champagne to the flustered pianist. The rest of the band runs onto the stage and bravely starts without him. This is my moment and I spin round. I smile and wave at all the cameras. I want all the networks to get good pictures of me. I show off my dress for the sponsor. I signal to the piano player to keep trying. He goes at it bravely. Then I drag one of the single men out for a brief dance. It won't hurt to start a few more rumours. It might also get that other bastard jealous. I kiss him and whisper to him to play up to it. Do I want him? I don't know. This doesn't feel like me, I'm not sure about it. Should I take him? Somehow it doesn't feel right. I can't fight it though. I pull him close. He needs no encouragement and he's quite good at kissing. I size up his muscular body and winning smile and decide to keep him overnight. I'll get one of the security team to direct him to my bedroom. I know he's mine. He responds so readily when I press up against him. This is such a good party and everyone is watching me. I am so happy. No she is so happy. I am a prisoner. Am I in her head or is she in mine? Chapter 5 A Kiss for the Cameras I wake in the happy glow of a night spent on sex. I feel a little sad that I'm going to have to get rid of him now. He's not famous enough for a long-term relationship. He's a good lover though and he has a fine body. I hope he gets a higher profile so I can spend more time with him. Maybe one day I'll invite him back into my bed. I think I might just do it anyway. I can afford to live a little now and again. He wakes up and I know he wants me again. I push him away gently. Now I have to explain how he was a great fuck but I'm not looking for a boyfriend right now. I can mention my pretend boyfriend I suppose. Maybe he'll feel all manly and insulted and challenge him to a duel. That would be great. He might even kill him for me. A long slow breakfast later I kiss him goodbye and arrange for him to be taken back into town. I briefly scan the footage of last night. My stunt worked. They always do. The networks fall for them willingly. Anything to feed their sensation hungry channels. At around eleven I open up for business and immediately get a call. It's my beloved manager again. "Sophia!" He almost said Baby but managed to stop himself. I pretend to overlook it. "What is it?" I asked. "I've got that concert sorted honey. It is going to be big. You'll love it." I can tell he is being evasive. He isn't telling me everything. "Where is it?" I asked. "Well I had a hard time deciding. I thought maybe London but it's too old world." "Yeah." "Then I thought a big US city but it's been done too often." "Get to the point." "Okay baby. Get this. You are going to be singing in orbit." He looked pleased. "Oh God! Fuck off." I said. "Wait. Get this. You are going to be the first one to sing on the Nova space station." "Not strictly true is it. You know what happened the first time they had a concert." "Baby! They've promised me. Just teething troubles. They've sorted it out now." "Partial depressurisation last time. It was a fiasco. The whole fucking press corps was there. Those acts got crucified." "I told you. They've fixed it. And the deal is so sweet." He said. "Because they're shit scared and desperate?" "You have a way with words honey. Yeah. This could be great. You'll get max prime time exposure and a huge stack of money." "Since you put it like that. I'm in." I told him, firmly. "I told you that you'd love it." "Send me over the details. I'll think it through." "I will. Bye dearie." His manner does irritate me but I put it to one side. I don't entirely like the idea of going up into orbit for the concert. Some of the bands there last time have never worked again. They looked like fools when the entire audience ran screaming for their lives. Some of the musicians were too stupid to know what was happening. One of them nearly died before he put his guitar down and ran with the crowd to safety. He was blue by the time the medical team got to him. I hope they have sorted it out now. If so then it'll be safe and like he says they're desperate. They'll agree to anything to get people like me out there singing for them. They need tourism to make the place pay. Scenes of screaming consumers don't do much for visitor numbers. This could be a big score for me. I'll make sure the place is checked out properly before I sign anything. I've also got some ideas for the show. Being out in space could have some real possibilities. This might be a good thing in the end. I casually rehearse a dance step and sing one of my hits under my breath. This could be a big deal all right. I improvise some new lyrics to my song. This movement is making me feel good. A switch is thrown in my head and my dance is thrown out of step. I tumble to the ground and lie there for a second before being able to pick myself up. I don't know what did that to me but I don't like it. Too much of myself is out of my control now. I sit down and rest for a while. I come out of a fog to see my old friend standing in front of me. He's the man from the hotel room. He's the one who got me into this. I shrink back in the chair away from him. Now I know what just happened to me. He triggered some of the software he put in my head. I don't bother to ask how he got into the house. I guess they own the security systems too. "You show me some respect. That's good." I try to make myself merge with the chair. It doesn't work. So I try to meet his eyes. It isn't easy. "Don't hurt me. I've done everything you want." "I know. You've got no choice about it. You can relax though. I'm not here for you." He said. She wells up within me and spits out one of her defiant lines. "A social call then you bastard?" I asked. "Ha. Good! No, one of your little entourage has been disloyal." "What?" "He's been dealing with some people we don't like. He's been selling us out, selling information and stealing our money." I don't like the way he says 'our money' but I don't argue. What info could be selling? I don't mix with the staff and I certainly don't tell them things. There's no way he knows anything about the big secret. He nodded, sadly and wagged a finger. I watch as another man dressed in the same black clothes roughly drags someone into the room. I've seen the guy doing things around the place, but never really taken much notice of him. Why should I? They're here to work for me, not make idle conversation. "What are you going to do to him?" "You know I said nobody much has to die?" "Yes." I said. "He's nobody much." "No!" I shouted. "Don't worry about it. We won't do it here. It's not discreet enough." "Stop it! He doesn't deserve that. He's just a small time loser making a bit on the side." "We can't have him hitting the big time. We definitely can't risk any leaks." He said. He looked at me directly. "But!" "You just keep singing and looking pretty Ms. Canary. Your cage is inside your head all the time." I struggle and try to get up. He tells me not to and I have to obey. I watch helplessly as the man is dragged out again. "Just keep up the good work and I won't have to call again." He makes another of his control gestures and seems to disappear. I guess I got locked out of myself again for a while. There's no sign they were ever here and I bet the security videos won't show anything amiss either. I shiver as I realise how completely they have me trapped. I can't even tell anybody about it. I don't even really want to escape either. I'm enjoying her life. It's intoxicating. Last night when I turned on her charms I could have seduced anyone at the party. I got one of the biggest hunks there and I hardly had to do anything for it. I get another call from my agent. They're ready to sign the deal. I'll get a ridiculous fee. The owners of the station are really desperate. There'll be a mad scramble for tickets too. The place won't hold as many people as my usual sort of venue. People will fight over them. We'll get even more coverage for that. I check over the details that he's sent me. I realise with horror that my 'boyfriend' and his band will be there too. I'm top of the bill though. I'm the headline act. I squirm as I realise I may have to be seen with him. I suppose I have to. I did sign that contract. I don't have to like him though. I decide to call my agent back. "Do I really have to be in the same room with that guy?" "I'm afraid so. There's still six more stories to run about your relationship." "I hate him. He's a fuckwit." "He's a fuckwit with great teeth. That makes him a major asset to the band." "If only he could do music too. What's the minimum I can get away with?" "The story for that day is that you're an item again. I'm afraid you'll have to kiss him for the cameras. It's in the contract." "Bastard!" I give up. I have to go through with the deal. It's a stupid idea anyway. Do people really buy music because they think two people are going out together? I guess this world is full of morons. Well, the ones that buy his records anyway. At least my fans have some taste. Chapter 6 Orbit One VIP I get to make another triumphant procession through a spaceport. This is becoming a habit. I really play up to it this time and notice that there are more camera platforms here than ever. The concert promotion has been massive. I've really done well out of the deal. I'm big news again. We have the whole space plane to ourselves. It's mostly full of musicians and our followers. It should be a smooth and clean ride to orbit for docking with the station. The people who built the place aren't that smart. To start with they called it Terra Nova. It's hardly original for one thing. Then they shortened it to Nova. Great! Let's call it after something that blows up in space big time. Their marketing department must be assholes. I see people around me plugging into the tech channels to listen to the countdown and radio chatter. I smile to myself. There's no point doing that. If anything is important enough to worry me they'll announce it. Like maybe they've run out of vintage champagne? It's a comfortable little ship, especially the VIP section where I'm sitting. I won't have to mix with the common people. But then I never do. They come to check we were all safely strapped in. I look through the window at the scurrying activity outside. I hear the warning siren then a few seconds later the engines kick in and I feel the machine straining to leave the ground. Most of us avoid listening to the safety briefings like seasoned travellers always do, feigning nonchalance. I see people who've never been into space before looking nervous. When the crewmember points out the escape exits their heads whip round to look. Silly really. Where do they think they'll be going? Anything that holes the ship that bad will probably crush it flat. So why worry? I do my best to relax. We start to move, slowly at first. Quickly we gather speed and I imagine the watching crowds below following our track. The acceleration presses me back but soon passes. I've been here before and weightlessness doesn't surprise me. I see some of the other people playing with pens and other small items. One of the cabin crew stares at them quite angrily but doesn't stop them. Big money is changing hands for this flight. We get some leeway. We're to make several orbits before we dock. That gives them time to serve drinks and get people acclimatised to being in space. I guess many of the first timers won't want alcohol and they'll be careful to make sure people only get one drink each. Space is a bad place to be drunk though this is really just a flashy plane ride. There's no danger of any of us passengers having to do a space walk. I hear the tone of an announcement followed by the crystal clear female voice the company picked. I assume they wanted it to sound classy and reassuring. "Ladies and gentlemen. We are now on ALS for docking at Nova station in six minutes. Please remain in your seats and secure your harness. On docking you will find all public areas of the station at normal gravity. Please have all your documents ready for inspection at customs. Thank you for travelling with us and we hope you enjoy your stay on the station." Soon we dock with the station. They're spinning the whole thing so the areas we'll be using have pretty much normal feeling gravity. The concert arena is a huge dome on one of the arms of the station. Other arms hold hotel rooms and leisure facilities. For the concert they'll set up the spin and dome angle so the Earth appears behind us as we go round. It'll be a hell of a backdrop. As we pass through the customs scan I hang back instinctively. I feel paranoid that it will give me away somehow. I walk through and get a green light. Whatever they've done to the records has been done properly. I have nothing to fear. In my room I no longer have my book to read. It used to be a habit to turn the pages before doing anything else in a new place. It comforted me somehow. Instead I look out through the round window. I stare into space. Lights from the station stop me seeing very much at the moment. I'll see more tomorrow. At once a thought hits me. I realise that I can escape but it will be incredibly difficult. I have to come up with set of actions entirely consistent with her behaviour. If I can find the right limits then the software won't stop me doing it. Maybe I could make it like a chain. Each little thing can set up the next and none will be big enough to trigger a reaction. Excited, I mull it over. The remaining flaw is our fame. If I get away what do I do? I'll be recognised anywhere. I can't even go to a clinic and change my looks. They'll turn me in for money or call the news media right off. I'm not sure I want to escape. It will be hard to give up this empty life of being spoilt and pampered. The old me could probably do it but I've been changed by her presence in me. The idea is there but not the details or the will. I need to think further about it. In the meantime I have to sing tomorrow. I decide on an early night. Tomorrow morning I'll check out the venue properly. I'd hate to disappoint my fans. I need to make sure I get the best treatment too. I want them to pull out all the stops for my act. My crew is already unpacking my special gear in the concert dome. I'll get permission to install that tomorrow. They're not going to say no. It's going to blow the crowd away. I laugh as I realise that last time the crowd nearly got properly blown away. I'm not stupid. I had the place checked out before I came here. They've done what they said. It's definitely safe now. I lie down to sleep, regretting being on my own. I suppose I'll need all my strength tomorrow though. Still I could have maybe invited someone in. Chapter 7 Sound in a Vacuum I make the call almost as soon as I'm up and about. "Oh! Yes Ms. Ashcroft. What can I do for you?" "I've got some men with me. I'd like permission for them to go EVA to set up some special lighting equipment." "We've got plenty of lights. The dome is fully wired." "These are special. Trust me." I smiled my "we own you, you bastard" smile at him and saw that he knew it. I'm being surprisingly nice to him I think. I'm letting him act like it's his choice to do as I tell him to. "Well." "I'll send you the specs. They're totally safe. Just don't tell anyone about them before the show." "I suppose it will be alright." I disconnect and transmit the information to him. These babies are going to be good. The finale will be something for people to remember. I make my way to the dome. Everything seems to be in order. I see some of my people taking boxes towards the service airlocks. The stage looks fine. I wander around for a while to get the feel of it. I check out the mixing desk and the audio feeds. It's modern gear. It should work perfectly. They give me the access codes and I load them into my hardware. I carry out some sound checks and then deactivate the feed for now. It all looks to be set up properly. I'm satisfied and I tell the sound engineers that. They seem relieved. They've obviously heard I'm a bitch to work with. They're right but I always spare the rod with the ones who make me look and sound good. I don't want my feed to get mysteriously distorted or a rogue lighting pattern to disrupt my dance. Things kick off mid afternoon local time. For several hours it will just be piped music. Then the low status acts will start to appear. There are several more hours of them to sit through. They're packing a lot in given the trouble people have to get here. Immediately before me is my pretend boyfriend and his band of hopeless warblers. Then I have 90 minutes or so to sing my heart out. I'm the headline act. I'm the star they want to see. The big audience will be watching me. I'll be looking down on Earth tonight and knowing I'll be in a billion homes. It might be more. There's been a lot of publicity for this. A feeling builds in me and strengthens. I want this. I don't want to escape. I want the adulation and the praise. I want to be the beautiful star. I know it mostly comes from the imprint but part of the real me wants it too. I shall sing for them tonight and be her for them. They'll worship me for my talent and beauty. I am a Goddess looking down from heaven. I will deserve their love and admiration. They will give it to me. I return to my room and am surprised to find a commotion going on outside. I tackle the security man who looks to be in charge. "What the hell is going on?" "This guy got into your room Ms. Ashcroft." "What the fucking hell are you people playing at? You promised me round the clock security." "But." "I left my own people back on Earth. You wouldn't let them carry weapons here. I fucking trusted you." "He's a computer tech. He gave himself access and bypassed the systems." "What did the fucker want?" The guard reaches into his pocket. He sheepishly pulls out some of my underwear and holds it up. "We think he wanted a trophy ma'am." He looks at me, clearly trying hard not to give the slightest sign of a smile. I ignore him. For the first time I stare at the small man they are holding roughly against the wall. He shies away from me. "Fucking loser. I bet he's never been within twenty feet of a woman before. God! You people are incompetent. I turn my back five minutes and there's some pervert going through my underwear." I'm just working up to a full-scale rant when I hear a whine from the corridor behind me. I catch a camera platform out of the corner of my eye. I quickly switch tracks. I can't spoil the press coverage for the concert. "Ms. Ashcroft. Nova Gazette here. Have you any comment to make?" Someone asked. "Yes. He did go to a lot of trouble to get them." I open my bag and take out my lip colour pen. I sign my name in bright red on the white panties and underline it. Then I push them slowly into the guy's shirt pocket. "Think of me when you wear them." I told him. His face blushes bright red and the security team laugh at him before marching him away. I smile at the camera. "I think he's just a fan who went too far. I hope nothing happens to him." I said, insincerely. When the press have left I enter my room and make an angry call. I demand and get proper protection. I can't believe they left my room unguarded. I give them a real hard time about it. I check my stuff. Nothing else seems to be missing though he's obviously been in my wardrobe as well. The door was closed when I left earlier. I calm myself down. I've got a show to do. I run through all the routines in my head. They're all second nature. I won't make any mistakes. I don't have to be anywhere near the dome for most of the day. In fact it would be strange if I went there too soon. I don't need to listen to the B list bands. I spend the remaining hours pampering myself and getting my costumes sorted out. The first one is a sparkly trouser suit. You need to be a bit larger than life when performing on stage. I'll glitter a bit tonight and also make sure my body is displayed to best effect. I get everything ready and apply make-up. I know I look good and I certainly feel good. I arrive at the stage mid way through the act before mine. When it's over my 'boyfriend' pulls me up onto the stage with him and I have to kiss him. I pull him close and the crowd whistles. I softly whisper an insult to his manhood. He has to pretend I've said something funny and laugh about it. He can't slap me with the cameras on him. Ah, mischief! I am thy mistress. They give me a couple of minutes to get set up. I make some final checks and bounce onto the stage, greeting my backing group warmly. A deep voice announces me. "Ladies and Gentlemen. It's the moment you've been waiting for. Let me introduce a very talented lady. She's a singer and Princess on Earth and in Space. Top of the celestial charts for months. I give you the lovely and amazing Sophia!" I take a bow to thunderous applause and we hit them with the first number right off. It's up-tempo to grab people's attention. The programmed light show kicks in and it looks fantastic. Though it probably looks better from the other side of the stage. I never get to see it properly like they do. As I go through the routines the house systems give me a cue and a count for the big finale. The machine intones "Sequences ready" in my ear. It's going to be split second stuff. I hope to the God, that I don't believe in, that it all works. It's cost a fortune to set up. I've had them adjust the dome spin in a pre-set programme. As I finish my first number the Earth comes into view and seems to be hanging beneath us. I gesture upwards as the song finishes and it's as though I'm inviting the audience to reach out and touch it. Everything is working. I feel that strange intimate detachment I feel when I sing for a crowd. I feel that I have them already. They are under the spell my voice is weaving. I start the second number and it's a bit slower, one of my earlier hits. I sing of my lost lover, as the Earth seems to turn its face away from us. It's a nice touch I think. I get even bigger applause when this finishes. It's time for my first costume change. A spot of misdirection helps. A pattern of light coalesces on the left hand of the stage and a computer voice narrates the introduction. This is one of my more ambitious pieces. I've always had a soft spot for it. I'm only off stage for a few seconds to exchange my black trouser suit for a mini dress. I return as the introduction finishes and start to sing. By the end of the next to last number the dome is no longer spinning and our view is pointing away from Earth. Everyone is too intent on the show to notice. This is where the fun really starts. Midway through my last song I get the initiation signal from the systems. I hope it works. I can imagine the gases venting out outside the dome from the equipment we've installed. In the final section of my song the lights dim and my special gear discharges electricity into the thin atmosphere just created around the dome. One person thinks this is the end of the show and claps before breaking off into silence. It will only last a few minutes but that will be enough. The dome surface becomes brilliant plasma, brighter than ever seen on earth. Patters of colour blot out the stars. I hear "Aurora sequence complete. Nova sequence initiated" I gesture up towards the glittering and glowing sky as I sing the last notes. The energy runs out and the gas thins, seeping away into space. The glowing colour fades. The lights inside mirror the outside glow and sustain it for slightly longer then fade to black. More people start clapping now. They're convinced it's over this time. I'm left pointing up at the stars with my final move of the dance and I hold the pose. People follow my outstretched finger and see that one of the stars begins to stir. It grows brighter as it heads towards us. There are gasps and a few screams from the crowd. It seems to be terribly close but it's really a trick of perspective. People begin to be convinced it will hit us. A deep male voice announces in sonorous tones. "Emergency! Emergency! Nova detonation in five, four, three, two, one, zero." A brilliant white light fills the sky as the small drone craft triggers its destruct charge. To the crowd it's like an exploding star. The house lights are again used to enhance and sustain the glow. They make the small blast look like a huge detonation. We pipe in low frequency sonics and the dome shakes. People scream faintly. Then everything fades to black and a single spotlight is left on me. I take my bow. The crowd goes wild. There is palpable relief now they know that it was part of the show. I feel drained and so tired but I stay on stage to acknowledge the applause. I particularly enjoy the looks of hatred I get from some of the other acts. Once again I am the star and none of them could have thought of that display. Some of them can barely play a note. I laugh and feel powerful and alive. Chapter 8 Descending Scale I make a triumphant return to Earth the following day. I've made a lot of money in the last twenty-four hours and I have several other concerts lined up if I want to do them. I'll have to think about them. I'm on my familiar procession through the spaceport when I hear shouting. I try to ignore it. I can hear someone screaming insults. I still try and block it out. The noise continues and I can tell that my security team is getting restive. I turn round to see what's happening. The hovering cameras lock onto a man running towards me. "Kill the capitalist whore!" He shouts. It takes me a second to realise that he means me. Before the security people or I can react he sticks a knife in my chest. I look surprised for a second. Then I go down on the floor like I've been shot rather than stabbed. I can feel blood gushing out of the wound. I hear the sound of someone else being struck down. The medical team is there in under the contractual two minutes. Soon I am being rushed to hospital. I don't feel as bad as I should do. I wonder if it's the drugs. I drift in and out of consciousness. This can't be happening to me. I'm too important to be injured. I'm a star. I'm immortal. Soon they have me in a hospital bed and hooked up to various machines. One of the doctors tells me it's only a minor wound and not to worry. He leaves. I stare at the remaining doctor. He has his back to me and is fiddling ostentatiously with some piece of equipment. The doctor turns and removes his mask. With a groan I recognise him. "Hi kid!" "Are you a doctor too now?" I asked. "Well you could say I've helped a lot of people appreciate their mortality." "Callous bastard." "It's my business. Now I'm sorry about this but we had to do it." He said, Some fractured piece of an understanding percolates through my drugged brain "We're sorry? You had me fucking stabbed?" "He was an expert. He only nicked you. Don't make a fuss." "What the fucking hell?" I shouted. The pain kicks in and I wince. "Maybe you should get yourself a stand-in? Do you want me to sort it out?" He asked. "Cut the crap and tell me why the fuck you did it." "You're a hot property right now. We're just going to milk it a bit. We'll put out a release that you're at death's door. Then we wait a bit and you make a miraculous recovery. Sales should rocket." "Very classy." I said. "You are baby! You're doing well for us and we won't forget it." "Yeah. What happened to her then?" "Oh she's safe. Not very happy though." He said. "Good." "Yeah. We don't want you getting too relaxed. After all we might make a different deal someday." "Bastard." I said. "I said it's my business. No we're very pleased with you. You're the prototype. We've been watching you very closely. There may be others like you soon. We have some people in mind." "I wanted to run." "I know you did. At first we thought you might. But you couldn't and never will." "Why?" I asked. "You're not going to jump off the gravy train. If you do then you'll land very hard. You'll be nothing." "Fucker." "I know who you used to be. You don't want to be him again. You're better off being rich and pretty." He said. "Did you just come here to insult me?" I asked. "No. I brought you something. For your efforts." He took out a book from a large pocket in his white coat and held it up in front of me. He put it down on the table next to my bed and left, closing the door quietly behind him. I saw the book clearly. It's "Twenty Thousand Leagues under the Sea." My childhood favourite adventure story and it's my copy. I can see the familiar wear marks on the cover. My friend has returned, rescued from the hotel. I lie back, feeling no pain now. Within an hour my room is full of flowers. My fans have sent get-well tokens in their multitudes. I bet the networks are preparing black armbands and tribute packages. They won't need them but they don't know that yet. Epilogue A couple of days later I leave the hospital. I make a statement from the steps to the waiting media. "I'd like to thank everyone here for their excellent care. I have to thank my fans too. You people mean so much to me. I love you all." I spout more lies and platitudes. They seem to lap it up. I get into the car and it whisks me back to my home. I'm so happy to be back. I have everything here. I have everything I need. If I want something else then one of the flunkies will get it. There's no need for me to do anything. There's really