Catalyst

fiction by michael werneburg

2001.12.09

"Do you think there will be changes to the rules from now on, or will they be a bit more clever with the placement of the markers?"

"That's the question, Jim. If you look at a map of the racecourse, you'll see that the race course first sweeps way out to the east in a big arc along the prestigious neighbourhoods on the waterfront, and then heads into the city center along a somewhat smaller arc to the west. It then swings around the perimeter of the Old Town before coming to a third marker by the Prince's palace. The last leg is then a fairly complex path through the Old Town itself. All in all, the racecourse is a real tour of the city. Well, what Tilescu has noticed is that the three mandatory markers form a fairly straight line. And from his course so far, he's adhered to that straight line remarkably well."

"Amazing. And the race officials are saying that this will stand?"

"Yes. Incredibly, they have discovered exactly the same thing that Tilescu must have in the days or weeks prior to the race. As Keith O'Brien, today's master of ceremonies pointed out, the only rule is that you have to have your photos of all three markers when you cross the finish line."

I gasped. The organizers had spotted their weakness and let it go ahead as planned! I was panting but the grade had eased off, and I was into the final flat stretch that led to the second marker. I could see an intersection ahead. It was packed with people.

"So, with Tilescu's lead contracting a bit to just over three and a half kilometers, we're going back to Charlene Tomayatsu at the first marker. Charlene?"

"Thanks, Jim. Well, the carnage here at the first marker has been cleared up to some extent. Security forces—both official and private—have made a number of arrests. Medical services are also on the scene. It seems that some fourteen people are confirmed dead from the pulse blast, mostly as a result of failed medical implants."

I shot through an intersection that had been blocked off in an impromptu fashion by mixed security forces in armored cars. No more near collisions with vehicles, I supposed. The din from the crowd was unbelievable, I lost the commentary in my implanted audio to the noise. I saw someone fire at a micro-drone with a slingshot and dodged the falling drone with ease. I screamed at someone to get out of my way on the far side of the intersection.

Making easy progress, I leaned into it a bit and eased off on the pedals. My breathing was returning to normal but my heart was pounding. The synthetics I'd taken had left a metallic taste in my mouth, and my stomach felt a little sore. Health effects were the only reason I'd been leery of taking them in the first place. Although they were quite illegal, to discover their use a doctor would have to cut me open and take part of my liver. I didn't foresee that happening to investigate a race in which people were murdering each other.

"Now," said Charlene at the first marker, "a pulse weapon is a highly illegal entity in Dusylin, as it is just about everywhere else. But it's also a fairly bulky item," she suggested. "And even though there are questions arising over the security checks carried out by race officials as a result of the shooting of Jules Conso and several others, it is thought that such a weapon would simply be too large to carry on a bicycle. So the investigation is looking into the possibility that someone in the crowd set off this terrible weapon."

I zipped through another blocked-off intersection. People were cheering me on. I couldn't make out any words, but they seemed to be shouting their encouragement. I glanced at the map on my HUD. I was still well ahead of the next group of cyclists. Top ten, I just needed to be in the top ten!

"Charlene," asked the anchor, "I understand that things are running a bit more smoothly at the first marker?"

"Yes. As you can see behind me, a steady stream of riders is now passing. These were mostly people from the middle of the pack before everyone abandoned the official race-course. Things are going fairly smoothly, and riders seem more intent on closing with the leaders than jockeying for position at this point."

"Charlene we have at least one rider now approaching who has been very interested in jockeying for position, as you say."

"That's right. Larisa Kuan is expected within the minute. As you can see, we're now moving to a position somewhat further back from the main course in preparation for her arrival."

"Heh heh, that sounds wise, Charlene. When you-"

A loud bang came over the NCV, and rattled around in my head. My bike wobbled under me, and I shook off the deafening sound. That was the problem with cybernetic sound systems. Anything went wrong, and you were in trouble.

"Charlene, are you there?" asked the anchor, his voice sounding as if he'd stepped back from the microphone. "Larisa Kuan has just passed through the first marker, and has in fact destroyed the marker. Repeat, Larisa Kuan has destroyed the marker!"

"What do you think happened, Charlene?"

"It seems that this fierce competitor used a small explosive device to destroy the marker. The actual plasti-ceramic disc has been obliterated. There is nothing there but a smoking scar on the pavement." Charlene sounded pretty shaken. I knew I was. Head still ringing, I approached the crowded intersection ahead of me.

Trusting to the crowd to part, I reached up for my camera, and plowed on. People dove to either side as I shot into the intersection. These people were all staring wildly, and some of them seemed like they'd been running themselves. As I spotted the second marker, it dawned on me that they'd been pouring into this intersection from the surrounding parts of the abandoned racecourse. Someone threw a plastic water bottle at me, but missed by a wide margin. I was just glad they weren't shooting!

As I glided over to the second marker, I repeated my trick of squeezing off countless shots. No way I was going to be disqualified. I sailed through the intersection, and out the far side. Some security forces were present, and they'd cleared the way for me. It seemed that everybody knew what I intended next.

All the same, the commentators had forgotten me.

"Charlene, was anyone hurt in the blast?"

"It looks like a number of people are down, though the marker was in the middle of a large intersection. Perhaps they were security personnel, it's difficult to tell. However, there are at least three riders down. One of them is badly wounded, that is obvious from here. I'd say he—or she—was right on the marker when it went up. We'll have to go to footage to be sure."

"Now we have a lot of riders turning up, looking for the marker. Some are dismounting, and approaching the fallen riders. Security and medical staff is descending on the site. I'm not sure what's happening with the riders. The bulk of the field is only now approaching the first marker in this incredible race. It looks like they're mostly dismounting, and milling around. One or two of them are pressing on, even without a photo of the first marker!"

"Thanks, Charlene. Sounds like Kuan was planning to wipe out most of the field by eliminating that first marker."

"That's right, Jim. I suppose the charge must have been dead weight to Kuan once Tilescu mooted her strategy, so he used it anyway."

"Simply amazing. Quite a day for novel approaches to the cycle race. Thanks, Charlene!"

"Thanks, Jim!"