Synthetic Read online

  Synthetic

  A Borderlands Novel

  Cat Thomas

  Gwillion Press

  Copyright © Cat Thomas 2019

  The moral right of the author has been asserted.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except where permitted by law.

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, and events, other than those clearly in the public domain, are the product of the author’s imagination and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library

  ISBN 978-1-9160251-0-3

  Gwillion Press

  For Paul, with love

  Contents

  1. Lona and the electric wolf

  Naz: A Journal of Unnatural Thoughts

  2. What would Eirrod do?

  I

  3. A long way from Kansas

  4. A few bits of jewellery and a storybook

  5. The scream

  6. This cosy Tudor room

  7. Not much that’s normal

  8. Harvest

  II

  9. The purveyor of dreams

  10. Dark twin rising

  11. The sorrow and the mystery

  The Pryddych Cycle: Anwhyn and Anghared

  12. Magical materialism

  III

  Naz: A Journal of Unnatural Thoughts

  IV

  13. Unspeakable writing

  Naz: A Journal of Unnatural Thoughts

  V

  The Pryddych Cycle: The Lady of the Silver Pool

  Naz: A Journal of Unnatural Thoughts

  14. When the sleeping awake

  Naz: A Journal of Unnatural Thoughts

  15. A foul thing, loosed

  16. Intelligent software

  The Pryddych Cycle: The Lady of the Silver Pool (part 2)

  17. Where the dragons are

  18. The world that was her home

  19. New magic and the young prince

  Naz: A Journal of Unnatural Thoughts

  20. Chosen

  21. Trouble with a Bubble

  The Pryddych Cycle: The Last Welsh Martyr

  22. A Messenger to the Kami

  23. Spelling practice

  24. A Revelation in Gethsemane

  25. Infected

  Naz: A Journal of Unnatural Thoughts

  26. Looking for trouble

  27. The realm of forgotten knowledge

  Naz: A Journal of Unnatural Thoughts

  28. Poison

  The Pryddych Cycle III: The Tale of the Seven Sisters

  29. The revenant Dorath

  30. Narratively risky

  31. Monstrous code

  32. Gods and monsters

  Naz: A Journal of Unnatural Thoughts

  33. Three talismans

  34. A temple meet

  Naz: A Journal of Unnatural Thoughts

  VI

  35. Gathering

  36. Extraction

  Naz: A Journal of Unnatural Thoughts

  37. The Famous Five of techno-narrative

  The Pryddych Cycle V: Gwenabwyn the Flame Bearer

  38. Praying with monsters

  39. Obsolete skills

  40. A new friend

  41. Happy Halloween

  Naz: A Journal of Unnatural Thoughts

  42. Betrayal

  Naz: A Journal of Unnatural Thoughts

  43. Assassin override

  44. Blood and brand

  45. The disappeared and the charmed

  46. Visiting relations

  VII

  47. Sacrificial acts

  48. The anti-project

  49. Samhain

  50. Some other wolf

  Naz: A Journal of Unnatural Thoughts

  Naz: A Journal of Unnatural Thoughts

  51. The Immortal Prince of Light

  52. A Name in story

  53. Gained in translation

  Faith Protection Alliance Field Manual: Glossary of Technical Terms

  A note from the author

  Acknowledgments

  Bibliography

  Also by Cat Thomas

  About the Author

  One

  Lona and the electric wolf

  Advertising Feature

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  * * *

  I was sitting on the head of John the Baptist, looking at a knitted model of Jesus casting demons into a herd of swine. Tiny, ribbed, pink pigs threw themselves into a bright blue sea on a corner of Yvonne’s desk.

  ‘Only another five forms to fill in.’ Yvonne peered in front of her at a screen invisible to me. ‘Won’t take long, Lona. Now … religion. Shinto, yes?’

  I shifted uncomfortably on the embroidered cushion. Cross-stitched prophets stared at me suspiciously from the other chairs.

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘And you’ll be attending the shrine at Abergavenny, or going down to the big one in Newport?’

  ‘Ah, not sure yet. I’ve set up my travel shrine in my rooms. Combining work and faith, you know.’ I nodded at the Christian craft objects illuminating Yvonne’s office.

  She gave a rabbity smile as she tapped the air, selecting the invisible option on the invisible form. ‘Oh, I understand. It’s enriching. Even our Corporate Director, James Fish, has one of my tapestry Bible texts in his office and he’s very austere. Now, education. It says here you attended St Expiditus Roman Catholic Girls’ School in Cardiff?’

  The embroidered prophets looked at me beadily as I nodded.

  ‘You’re from South Cymru, then? I had you down as a Londoner, Lona, with the World Citizen accent implant and all. Luminos isn’t a Welsh name, is it?’

  ‘Well, I am here to translate an Old Welsh text, so …’

  ‘Silly me. Says it here. Nationality: Cymraeg. That’s a lot of languages you speak, besides Welsh and Old Welsh. Ogham. I’ll be honest with you Lona, I don’t even know what that is.’

  ‘The runes in the Pryddych tomb. They’re in Ogham.’

  ‘Are they now? There’s obscure, even for St Cadog’s.’ She gave a little laugh. ‘Fluency in Spanish, Russian, Mandarin, Arabic, Japanese, Portuguese, Italian, French … They’re a bit more modern aren’t they? Master of the Guild of Translators.’ Her shoulders tensed and her bright little eyes looked at me with something that might have been respect. Or discomfort. I wasn’t sure. Either was good. ‘I do beg your pardon. Didn’t realise without the Guild robe or insignia. Do you prefer Master Luminos?’

  ‘Lona’s fine,’ I said, and her shoulders relaxed. ‘Do Guild members normally wear robes here?’ I’d noticed as I made my way through the old college to the admin block that the academic staff wore informal robes, and even the students milling about in the corridors had dark red gowns over their jeans and trainers.

  ‘Well … academic staff. And students. Clergy, too, naturally, but they’re mostly academic. The rest of the staff are a bit more up-to-date. We only “robe up” for ceremonies. Though some of us wear our insignia.’ Yvonne tapped her chest. Among the litter of appliqué and brooches, half hidden by a scarf, I could just about make out the crossed pens insignia of an ordinary member of the Guild of Administrators. On the other side of her chest she wore a Me
thodist cross-and-flame Flogo.

  I sighed inaudibly. I’d have to come up with some badging if I was going to fit in at all here. In my normal life I didn’t need it. My ability to do the job as anonymously and neutrally as possible was all that mattered. Well, being able to hold my nerve too. I’d got a bit shaky at that bit, though, lately.

  ‘Now, next of kin.’

  I gave her M’s details.

  ‘Kyoto, eh?’ She entered the comms details. ‘That’s a distance.’

  It was. It was too much of a distance. Hardly ever seeing M hadn’t been helping me cope with the relentlessness of the day-to-day. But what could you do? We both had to work.

  ‘Right, I think that’s all the personal information. I can always get back to your agency if we need anything more. If you’ll just look at the camera and put your hand on the touchpad, I’ll start the security clearance.’

  Normally I do business translation. High-level meetings between questionable clients on neutral territory – high stakes, high pressure, tight security – but I’d never been put through a drill like this before. And I came here for a bit of a rural working holiday.

  As the TransBub had touched down in the rooftop garage the previous night – and said ‘Arriving at St Cadog’s, a partner college of Synthesis Edutainment,’ in its calm Bubble voice – I’d got that cheerful, stretchy sort of feeling that you have at the beginning of something you know is going to be quietly satisfying, in a low-stress kind of way. I’d followed the trolleybot through the sort of ‘welcome’ arch William Morris would have designed if he’d designed welcome arches, apart from the familiar minimalism of the Synthesis logo shimmering brightly over it. Underneath, a sign in gothic lettering read: St Cadog’s Methodist College, founded 1866.

  ‘Hi there, Lona and Dodo,’ the arch had said. ‘Here at St Cadog’s Edutainment Experience we’re bringing heritage to life and keeping religion real. Get ready to enjoy your adventure!’ And we’d followed the trolleybot along what felt like the corridor of an ancient monastery overlaid with splashes of advanced tech, to the faux-medieval splendour of my rooms, the Gawain Suite.

  Okay, it would be an institution I was working in, and I’d never been good with those, but I was a contractor and the project I was working on was kind of free-standing, so it wouldn’t be too regimented. Yvonne was just a personnel hurdle.

  She swiped her invisible screen. ‘While that’s running I’ll do your health and safety induction. Particularly important at present, with all these godless hippies camping all over the place. Now—’

  She took me on a dizzying tour of what-not-to-do, covering so many aspects of physical, mental and spiritual hygiene that even my high-spec memory enhancements only just managed to take in:

  If a colleague shows signs of Satanic possession, do NOT attempt any kind of exorcism; report to an accredited Demonic Possession Specialist,

  If you find an incubus or succubus on the premises, do NOT attempt to tackle it yourself; call in the Satanic Cleansing Department,

  If you encounter signs of anti-religious activity, do NOT argue, debate or wrangle; alert the local Faith Protection Alliance unit.

  ‘Right, that’s all downloaded to your outerbody system,’ she said, with a gesture at her data.

  Where I would never so much as glance at it. I’d maintained a poker face as Yvonne asked all her intrusive questions – not so easy now I’d cut down on my calm meds, but, please. I didn’t need useless advice about dealing with imaginary beings. And I was as likely to contact the Faith Police as I was to start saying Hail Marys.

  ‘You use Synthesis vOutside. There’s handy. And all your selfware’s Synthesis, is it? Not just your outerbody dataware?’

  I nodded.

  ‘We’re trying to get everyone to upgrade here, we’ve got a special deal, being a Synthesis partner college, but people are a bit stick-in-the-mud.’ She smiled at me, conspiratorially. ‘Academics, you know.’

  ‘Your tech here’s quite advanced, isn’t it?’ All the ambient tech in my rooms, from the door that greeted me to the drinks dispenser in my kitchenette, were high-end business hotel grade, which was at odds with the general ancient appearance of the place.

  ‘Down to James Fish, that is.’ Her smile was proud now. ‘He’s turned us into a smart university.’

  ‘It’s not because of Synthesis, then?’

  ‘Partly, but that was Fish’s idea too. He set up the partnership.’

  ‘But Delauney’s the Synthesis lead now, isn’t he?’

  Yvonne pursed her lips when I mentioned my new boss.

  ‘The academic lead. Lot more to a partnership than that, Lona.’ Yvonne seemed about to say something else, but changed her mind. Instead, she looked at Dodo as he lay meekly on her cross-and-flame rag-rug, his head between his paws.

  ‘Let’s move on to your, ah, friend. Now then, DigiPal have corroborated the security details you sent over. Let’s see. Companion animal model Lupus W34.6. Yes, that’s all in order. He’s quite a size, isn’t he?’

  Dodo looked at her with his head on one side and gave his tail a cautious wag. I bent down to rub his ears, avoiding the gaze of the prophets.

  ‘He’s a big softie, really.’ My stock phrase usually worked with people who didn’t know better.

  ‘I’m sure he is.’ She looked anything but sure. ‘But, thing is, Lona, we don’t normally allow pets on campus. Health and safety, you understand.’

  ‘Delauney’s already agreed to Dodo being with me on this assignment.’

  Yvonne bridled slightly. ‘He has? On standby, in your rooms, I expect.’

  ‘Active and with me.’

  Yvonne made an effort to sound reasonable. ‘If that’s your agreement with Professor Delauney then I suppose we have to honour it, Lona.’ Her body language, if I was reading it right, said she was exasperated. Or maybe frustrated. My system wasn’t entirely accurate. ‘But your insurance would have to cover it.’

  Access to Dodo’s insurance documents calmed her down a bit. ‘Personal and third party, even though he’s a DigiPal pet. Always best to be on the safe side, eh? I always—’

  Yvonne’s office door interrupted her. ‘Sister Continence for you, Yvonne,’ it said. ‘She says it’s an emergency.’

  ‘Excuse me a second, Lona.’ Yvonne nodded to the door.

  A nun rushed in, the cross-and-pen insignia of an admin order heaving on her bosom next to her Methodist Flogo as she struggled for breath.

  ‘Yvonne, it’s the Pagans,’ she gasped.

  ‘What have they done now?’ Yvonne asked.

  ‘Fish. They’ve kidnapped Fish,’ Sister Continence said. ‘They’re holding him hostage. In the tomb.’

  Naz: A Journal of Unnatural Thoughts

  Tuesday 20 October 2071

  7am

  My first entry since last week’s events, this. Bit undisciplined. But being attacked by a madwoman can get you like that.

  She just appeared in front of me, brandishing a screwdriver, screaming that I was the instrument of evil. That I had to be stopped. Luckily, Owen and Fish restrained her before she got physical, so I didn’t have to use force.

  I was just in the middle of designing a talking deer, too. Subtle, complicated work that – because you want to make it engaging, but all the time you’re haunted by the ghost of Bambi. I’ve had to shelve it until I’m feeling a bit better. Been getting on with some bird flight instead – complex mathematically, but not so creatively demanding.

  Naturally, Delauney offered me counselling, but I’d rather not subject myself to the homespun, mystical wisdom of the Little Sisters of St Brynach. Recording this private journal’s the best therapeutic tool for someone like me anyway. Kept as a standalone, in one of my safe drawers, so I can be honest.

  I’ll recover from the trauma, I’m too psychologically well-balanced for it to make a permanent mark.

  Meanwhile … meanwhile, it’s time for my daily check-in and testing with PsychLabs. And then. Then her replac
ement starts today.

  I’ll get on with designing some more kestrels. Or maybe red kites.

  Two

  What would Eirrod do?

  The Faith Protection Alliance was formed in 2050 as a broad-based coalition of religious, peacekeeping and law enforcement professionals. Our mission of ‘facilitating hope and preventing despair’ is driven forward by a staff dedicated to opposing both religious prejudice and godlessness. Backed by military know-how, and working in harmony with all recognised religions, the Alliance spreads the light of faith into some of the darkest corners of the United Nations of Britain.