Damien Broderick - Strange Attractors by Original (pdf) (no david read aloud txt) 📕

her left, at the frosted window. She recognised them from somewhere, from the holos . . .

This time the music seemed almost to claw at the soft inside of

her round stomach, as if some needle-clawed bat were scratching to

fly out of there. Bianca found the muscles of her upper body twisting her through near-spasm. It was hardly under her control, and the graft in her back gave her no discomfort at all.

And she had an important thought. T hat older man, the one

with the glasses —and that woman. She did recognise them. She

knew who they were. She had to speak to them. Especially the man:

something odd had came to her, something she needed to say to

him.

Baker had studied covert recordings of Alderson and Loerne discussing these places. Despite Alderson’s qualms about the miracle bands, he nonetheless visited them every Saturday night, clearly

struggling to come to grips with the phenomenon, with its spiritual

implications. Certainly he was the member of the Wallace Inquiry

who could most easily be shocked.

For the Unit, this night provided an ideal opportunity. Baker

would show them havoc.

Fie had a similar interest in watching Glass Reptile Breakout

live, but his own researches into biofeedback technique and its

attendant miracles, unlike the Inquiry’s, were not public. Indeed,

they were not even known to the State government. Which did not

mean that less rested on them. The Inquiry’s recommendations

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Russell Blackford

were limited to this one State. Yet whatever checks it demanded on

the use of the miracle-inducing equipment in Victoria — and Baker

intended that the ruling would be the unexpected one of total

abolition —his own involvement had a significance extending well

beyond Victoria, would benefit the entire Free World. His American and Chinese colleagues were particularly eager to restrict public access to equipment and techniques which created the

BF-miracles.

Officers of the Signals Unit were compiling a list of Australian

leaders who were suspected latents. It was part of an international

intelligence effort for the benefit of democracy. Eventually even

small fry like Alderson and Loerne would be tested against the

U nit’s criteria. Baker looked forward to seeing the final list. Once

established, it would enable his researches to take on a very practical use. Latents, such as the flick-dancer in his high cage, were potentially so vulnerable.

Baker slapped another pair of two dollar coins down. He stared

through the gaunt feather-cheeked young barm an, w'ho passed

over a pot of weak beer and a modicum of change.

He would wait until the end of the night, for the encores. Then

he’d wreak such ugliness that the BF equipment would surely be

suppressed —if not for good, certainly for the span of the resulting

outrage.

The Signals Unit could not maintain its Australian monopoly on

the necessary expertise while gross miracles were publicly flaunted

by these so-called miracle groups. So far no one in Australia outside the Signals Unit had succeeded in replicating the miracle effects under artificial conditions, without the participation mystique of the sharks and roe and their beloved bands. Were research at the Universities and hospitals further advanced, he’d be ham strung, for tonight’s work would then have the effect of spurring rather than halting their studies.

Sipping his beer, he gloated. The flick-dancer would make a

perfect victim.

The song changed tempo. Baker could see why the band called it

a healing song. It became almost parodically tranquil, redolent of

fresh fields and bird calls and all things sentimental. Baker resisted

its cliched charm. His own training with the Signals Unit had developed his detachment as well as skill.

Leaning against the padded bar, Baker could look almost

straight up into the perspex cage, dangling from a network of gold-

Glass Reptile Breakout

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painted chains, where the flick-dancer performed. The power of

the music! If it could augment a healing process, Baker thought

savagely, it could also reverse it. He would see to that.

It was called flick-dancing, but Tigershark never used a flick-knife.

Some dancers in Sydney did, but he had not seen it on his last trip

there, only on imported American holos. His own instrum ent more

closely resembled a steel-handled wedge-bladed carpenter’s knife,

small enough to fit entirely in his palm. It