Permutation City by Greg Egan Page A

to sell?"
     
    She hesitated. "I hired him myself, when I was outside. I used to spend a lot of time in VR, as a visitor, and he made some of my favorite places: the winter beach; that cottage I took you to. And others. He was one of the people I talked it over with, before I made up my mind to come in for good." Peer regarded her uneasily -- she rarely talked about the past, which suited him fine -- and mercifully, she returned to the point. "With slowdown, filters, masks, it's hard to judge anyone . . . but I don't think he's changed that much. I still trust him."
     
    Peer nodded slowly, absentmindedly sliding his intestine back and forth across his shoulders. "But how much does Durham trust him? How thoroughly will he check the city for stowaways?"
     
    "Carter's sure he can hide me. He has software that can break up my model and bury it deep in the city's algorithms -- as a few billion trivial redundancies and inefficiencies."
     
    "Inefficiencies can get optimized out. If Durham -- "
     
    Kate cut him off impatiently. "Carter's not stupid. He knows how optimizers work -- and he knows how to keep them from touching his stuff."
     
    "Okay. But . . . once you're in there, what sort of communications will you have?"
     
    "Not much. Only limited powers to eavesdrop on what the legitimate inhabitants choose to access -- and if the whole point of this place is secrecy, that may not be much. I get the impression from Carter that they're planning to drag in everything they need, then pull up the drawbridge."
     
    Peer let that sink in, but chose not to ask the obvious question, or to show that he'd even thought of it. "So what do you get to take with you?"
     
    "All the software and all the environments I've been using here -- which doesn't amount to all that much data, compared to me. And once I'm in, I'll have read-only access to all of the city's public facilities: all the information, all the entertainment, all the shared environments. I'll be able to walk down the main street -- invisible and intangible -- staring at the trillionaires. But my presence won't affect anything -- except to slow it all down by a negligible amount -- so even the most rigorous verification should pass the total package as contamination-free."
     
    "What rate will you run at?"
     
    Kate snorted. "I should refuse to answer that. You're the champion of one computation per year."
     
    "I'm just curious."
     
    "It depends how many QIPS are allocated to the city." She hesitated. "Carter has no real evidence for this -- but he thinks there's a good chance that Durham's employers have got their hands on some kind of new high-powered hardware --"
     
    Peer groaned. "Please, this whole deal is already suspect enough -- don't start invoking the mythical breakthrough. What makes people think that anyone could keep that a secret? Or that anyone would even want to?"
     
    "They might not want to, in the long run. But the best way to exploit the technology might be to sell the first of the new generation of processors to the richest Copies -- before they hit the open market and the QIPS rate crashes."
     
    Peer laughed. "Then why stow away at all? If that happens, there'll be nothing to fear from weather control."
     
    "Because there might not have been any breakthrough. The only thing that's certain is that some of the wealthiest -- and best-informed -- Copies have decided that it's worth going into this . . . sanctuary. And I've got the chance to go with them."
     
    Peer was silent for a while. Finally, he asked, "So are you moving -- or cloning yourself?"
     
    "Cloning."
     
    He could have concealed his relief, easily -- but he didn't. He said, "I'm glad. I would have missed you."
     
    "And I'd have missed you. I want you to come with me."
     
    "You want -- ?"
     
    Kate leaned toward him. "Carter has said he'll include you -- and your baggage -- for another fifty percent. Clone yourself and come with me. I don't want to lose you -- either of me."
     
    Peer felt