Laney has been here before, although not to this specific construct, this barbershop, and he dislikes the place. Something in the underlying code of the Walled City’s creation induces a metaphysical vertigo, and the visual representation is tediously aggressive, as though one were caught in some art school video production with infinitely high production values. Nothing is ever straightforward, in the Walled City; nothing is ever presented as written, but filtered instead through half a
– dozen species of carefully cultivated bit rot, as though the inhabitants were determined to express their massive attitude right down into the least fractal texture of the place. Where a clever website might hint at
– dirt, at wear, the Walled City luxuriates in apparent frank decay, in tex
– – Lure maps that constantly unravel, revealing of other textures, equally moth-eaten.
This barbershop, for instance, is shingled from overlapping tiles of texture, so that they don’t quite match up at their edges, deliberately spoiling any illusion of surface or place. And everything here is done in a palette of rain-wet Chinatown neon: pink, blue, yellow, pale green, and the authoritatively faded red.
Libia and Paco depart immediately, leaving Laney to wonder how he, were he to bother, might choose to present himself in this environment: perhaps as a large cardboard carton?
Klaus and the Rooster put an end to this surmise, however, abruptly appearing in two of the shop’s four barber chairs. They look as he remembers them, except that Klaus now wears a black leather version
193 of his snap-brim fedora, its brim turned up all around, and the Rooster somehow looks even more like one of Francis Bacon’s screaming popes.
“Whole new game here,” Laney opens.
“How so?” Klaus appears to suck his teeth.
“Harwood’s had 5-SB. And you know it too, because those chilango kids of yours just told me. How long have you known?”
“We operate on a need-to-know basis,” the Rooster begins, in full geek-pontificator mode, but Klaus cuts him off: “About ten minutes longer than you have. We’re anxious to know what you make of it.”
“It changes everything,” Laney says. “The way he’s been successful all these years: the public relations empire, advertising, the rumors that he was pivotal in getting President Millbank elected, that he was behind the partition of Italy. .
“I thought that was his girlfriend,” the Rooster says sullenly, “that Padanian princess-”
“You mean he’s only picking winners?” Klaus demands. “You’re suggesting that he’s in nodal mode and simply gets behind emerging change? If that’s all it is, my friend, why aren’t you one of the richest men in the world?”
“It doesn’t work that way,” Laney protests. “5-SB allows the apprehension of nodal points, discontinuities in the texture of information. They indicate emerging change, but not what that change will be.”
“True,” agrees Klaus and purses his lips.
“What I want to know,” Laney says, “what I need to know, and right now, is what Harwood is up to. He’s sitting at the cusp of some unprecedented potential for change. He appears to be instrumental in it. Rei Toei is in it too, and this freelance people-eraser of Harwood’s, and an out-of-work rent-a-cop. . . These people are about to change human history in some entirely new way. There hasn’t been a configuration like this since 1911-”
“What happened in 1911?” the Rooster demands.
Laney sighs. “I’m still not sure. It’s complicated and I haven’t had the time to really look at it. Madame Curie’s husband was run over by a horse-drawn wagon, in Paris, in 1906. It seems to start there. But if Harwood is the strange attractor here, the crucial piece of weirdness 194 I things need to accrete around, and he’s self-aware in that role, what is it he’s trying to do that has the potential to literally change everything?” “We aren’t positive,” the Rooster begins, “but-”
“Nanotechnology,” Klaus says. “Harwood was a major player in Sunflower Corporation. A scheme to rebuild San Francisco. Very radical restructuring, employing nanotechnology along much the lines it was employed, post-quake, in Tokyo. That didn’t fly, and, very oddly indeed, it looks to us as though your man Rydell was somehow instrumental in helping it not to fly, but that can wait. My point is that Harwood has demonstrated an ongoing interest in nanotechnology, and this has manifested most recently in a collaboration between Nanofax AG of Geneva-“