have a human counterpart?’
‘He did. David Tiamat. But you know what happened to him.’
There was a moment’s silence. The biped stiffened as it accessed the relevant records. ‘I’m sorry,’ it said. ‘It always seemed best to cripple ships, rather than kill their occupants. We assumed he’d be rescued quickly.’
But Tiamat hadn’t been. His ship had drifted alone for too long. Unable to bear the solitude, he’d handed himself fully to Mr Stabs, dying gratefully as the puppet took full possession of both his mind and body. The story had become a favourite with the other puppets, passed between them like a talisman.
‘Your intentions were good,’ said Jack. ‘You can’t be blamed for the Pantheon’s carelessness.’
‘They’ve been careless with you, too. You don’t have long before …’
The biped shifted in his seat and looked down. Jack assumed the movement was meant to communicate awkwardness and pity.
‘Three months until Fist’s licence runs out,’ he said. ‘Then he’ll own my body. Just like Mr Stabs does Tiamat’s.’
Fist cackled in Jack’s mind.
‘You can’t revoke the terms and conditions?’
Jack smiled sadly. ‘Another file you need to access,’ he replied. ‘The removal systems were part of the last puppet management facility, in high orbit around Mars. It held all the puppets that had been stripped out of their puppeteers, and all the systems that extracted and then supported them. It was all vaporised towards the end of the war. The hardware and software designs were lost too. So there’s nowhere I can go to get him taken out of me, and no way of building a new facility to do it.’
‘But why can’t things carry on as they are now?’
‘I don’t own Fist – I just hold a seven-year usage licence for him. When it ends I can’t return him to the Kingdom subsidiary that looked after the puppets, so some pretty stringent penalty clauses kick in. What remains of the company is empowered to seize any or all of my assets, up to his replacement value. Puppets are very sophisticated, so they’re worth a lot. And I’m a homeless, godless traitor, so I’m not. Which means the company gets the only real assets I have left – my body, my mind. And there’s nothing left of the company but Fist. So he’ll own me, unconditionally and absolutely. And as soon as his corporate management systems register that, they’ll move to fully occupy my mind and body.’
‘Can’t Fist stop them?’
‘Not even Kingdom could. It’ll happen automatically. There’s no way of changing that.’ Jack paused for a moment. ‘Not that Fist would want to, of course,’ he finished, unable to hold bitterness out of his voice.
‘I’m so sorry,’ said the biped. ‘And there’s definitely nothing else of the company left?’
‘There were rumours that six unmounted puppet embryos survived, but nobody’s ever found any trace of them. No systems for them to survive on. So there’s nowhere else but Fist to go but,’ and Jack tapped his head, ‘here.’
Fist winked into existence, letting the biped see him too. ‘He’s stuck with me now, squishy!’
‘We’ve talked about this before. Don’t use that word.’
‘Fuck you!’
Jack went to slap Fist, but the puppet was too quick. By the time his hand reached him, Fist had disappeared. ‘I’m sorry,’ Jack said. ‘He can get a bit out of hand.’
From the depths of his mind, a voice echoed up – [ I’ll out of hand you, Jackie boy …]
‘Not an easy time.’
‘No,’ said Jack. ‘Not at all.’
Two young women tumbled into the room and rolled up to the bar. Both were wearing tight white T-shirts and shorts, spattered with weave sigils. Jack wondered what they became when they were seen by their target audience. They turned and caught sight of the biped. One of them shrieked. The other started giggling. The first one hit her friend, then shouted: ‘My brother. You took my fucking brother.’ She stumbled towards
‘He did. David Tiamat. But you know what happened to him.’
There was a moment’s silence. The biped stiffened as it accessed the relevant records. ‘I’m sorry,’ it said. ‘It always seemed best to cripple ships, rather than kill their occupants. We assumed he’d be rescued quickly.’
But Tiamat hadn’t been. His ship had drifted alone for too long. Unable to bear the solitude, he’d handed himself fully to Mr Stabs, dying gratefully as the puppet took full possession of both his mind and body. The story had become a favourite with the other puppets, passed between them like a talisman.
‘Your intentions were good,’ said Jack. ‘You can’t be blamed for the Pantheon’s carelessness.’
‘They’ve been careless with you, too. You don’t have long before …’
The biped shifted in his seat and looked down. Jack assumed the movement was meant to communicate awkwardness and pity.
‘Three months until Fist’s licence runs out,’ he said. ‘Then he’ll own my body. Just like Mr Stabs does Tiamat’s.’
Fist cackled in Jack’s mind.
‘You can’t revoke the terms and conditions?’
Jack smiled sadly. ‘Another file you need to access,’ he replied. ‘The removal systems were part of the last puppet management facility, in high orbit around Mars. It held all the puppets that had been stripped out of their puppeteers, and all the systems that extracted and then supported them. It was all vaporised towards the end of the war. The hardware and software designs were lost too. So there’s nowhere I can go to get him taken out of me, and no way of building a new facility to do it.’
‘But why can’t things carry on as they are now?’
‘I don’t own Fist – I just hold a seven-year usage licence for him. When it ends I can’t return him to the Kingdom subsidiary that looked after the puppets, so some pretty stringent penalty clauses kick in. What remains of the company is empowered to seize any or all of my assets, up to his replacement value. Puppets are very sophisticated, so they’re worth a lot. And I’m a homeless, godless traitor, so I’m not. Which means the company gets the only real assets I have left – my body, my mind. And there’s nothing left of the company but Fist. So he’ll own me, unconditionally and absolutely. And as soon as his corporate management systems register that, they’ll move to fully occupy my mind and body.’
‘Can’t Fist stop them?’
‘Not even Kingdom could. It’ll happen automatically. There’s no way of changing that.’ Jack paused for a moment. ‘Not that Fist would want to, of course,’ he finished, unable to hold bitterness out of his voice.
‘I’m so sorry,’ said the biped. ‘And there’s definitely nothing else of the company left?’
‘There were rumours that six unmounted puppet embryos survived, but nobody’s ever found any trace of them. No systems for them to survive on. So there’s nowhere else but Fist to go but,’ and Jack tapped his head, ‘here.’
Fist winked into existence, letting the biped see him too. ‘He’s stuck with me now, squishy!’
‘We’ve talked about this before. Don’t use that word.’
‘Fuck you!’
Jack went to slap Fist, but the puppet was too quick. By the time his hand reached him, Fist had disappeared. ‘I’m sorry,’ Jack said. ‘He can get a bit out of hand.’
From the depths of his mind, a voice echoed up – [ I’ll out of hand you, Jackie boy …]
‘Not an easy time.’
‘No,’ said Jack. ‘Not at all.’
Two young women tumbled into the room and rolled up to the bar. Both were wearing tight white T-shirts and shorts, spattered with weave sigils. Jack wondered what they became when they were seen by their target audience. They turned and caught sight of the biped. One of them shrieked. The other started giggling. The first one hit her friend, then shouted: ‘My brother. You took my fucking brother.’ She stumbled towards
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