Juliet rolled her case over to the rows of rentable lockers lined up on the right side of the cavernous hall that fed into Luna City customs—rows of scanners manned by people in comfortable-looking white and blue uniforms. The lockers were biometrically secured, and when she found a vacant one, all she had to do was have Angel pay for a weekly rental—fifty-five bits—and press her thumb against the pad. When the locker clicked, Juliet opened it and pulled her suitcase close.
Inside, she’d packed, beneath her relatively new clothing, all purchased in the mall attached to the Phoenix Spaceport, her Finch Executive Needler, Herschel Company MP5, vibroblade, and several extra magazines for both guns. Looking around quickly, as though she were doing something illicit, she lifted the weapons and magazines out of her suitcase and put them into the locker. As she pulled it closed and stood up, she saw she wasn’t the only one, not by a mile, locking her guns away.
“Angel, you’ve requested a weapons license?”
“No, but I can now if you’d like. It’s a 500-bit fee.”
“Ugh. How long does it last?”
“Five years.”
“Yeah.” Juliet nodded, walking toward the shortest queue of people in front of the customs lanes. “Am I still pretending to be Clara Royce?”
“For the cameras, but for the customs scan and ID ping, your SOA license will get you through. I’ve hundreds of images and names prepared to cycle through for ID pings as you move about the city; it will be impossible for anyone to trace you that way.”
“Have I told you I love you lately, Angel?” Juliet spoke aloud, winking at the little girl who turned at the sound of her voice. The girl smiled and waved her tiny fingers, gripping a pink-haired, lifelike doll.
“You have, though I begin to wonder if you only love me for my administrative services.”
Juliet knew Angel was trying to tease her, but she still affected a shocked expression and cried, “How could you doubt my love?”
“I don’t! Juliet, I was joking!”
“You’re too easy.” Juliet grinned and watched as the little girl and the couple in front of her moved into the blue-gray tunnel of the scanner. She stepped to the yellow line that proclaimed, “WAIT HERE!” As the family passed through the scanner and stopped at the plastiglass booth to speak with the customs officer, Juliet gripped her suitcase handle, wondering at the butterflies in her gut.
“You’re fine. Nothing to be worried about,” Angel soothed.
“See? Now, that’s why I love you. How’d you know I was getting nervous?”
“Your heart rate and breathing follow a certain pattern that I’ve come to recognize when you . . .”
“You’re killing the magic, Angel.” As a green light lit up on the front of the scanner, Juliet walked forward, wheeling her case. She’d switched off its active shielding—nothing inside was illegal, and she didn’t want to arouse suspicion. Juliet passed through the gray tunnel, unable to hear or see anything that might be happening behind the scenes, and then, without any alarms sounding, she stepped in front of the booth.
“Welcome to Luna, ma’am.” The customs officer was a red-faced young woman with short blond pigtails and a stylish, retro, steampunk set of specs resting on her pert little nose. “Coming through on an SOA license, I see. Any weapons to declare?”
“You mean on me?” Juliet stammered, adding, “I mean, or are you asking about the lockers?”
“On you, ma’am. We didn’t detect anything overt. Is there something we might have missed?”
“No.” Juliet figured it was best not to confuse matters with overly verbose answers.
“How long will you be staying in Luna City?”
“I’m not sure. A week or so.”
“Please make sure your PAI is familiar with the laws and regulations of the city. If you stay longer than twenty-nine standard Luna days, you’ll need to apply for corporate sponsorship, a tax ID, and a visa.”
“Understood.”
Just as Juliet thought she might be finished and started to turn toward the tunnel in the big plasteel wall, the woman asked, “What about the deck, ma’am?”
“The deck?” Juliet glanced down at her suitcase. “My data deck?”
“Yes. Do you have any data on it that could be perceived as a threat to the interests of Luna Corporate Consortium or its allies in the Sol System?”
“Oh,” Juliet smiled. “No, I don’t.” The fact that she didn’t know if the data she’d stolen from GARD had anything to do with “Luna Corporate Consortium” certainly helped the lie feel natural.
“Have a pleasant stay. I’ve sent your PAI your visitor permit.”
“Thank you,” Juliet said, and before something could make the woman change her mind, she hurriedly wheeled her suitcase toward the tram station on the near side of the big, gray plasteel wall. “What if she wanted to scan my deck?” she subvocalized as she stood to the side, waiting for the next tram.
“All of your data is encrypted and hidden. It’s possible they could find the files and take them or copy them, but they’d not be able to tell what they were. I feel that question is more a formality, perhaps a way to detain someone they think is otherwise suspicious.”
“Huh.” Juliet fidgeted and then squatted to unzip her suitcase enough to slip her deck out. She hung it over her neck, tucking it down beneath her comfy, lightweight gray vest. The temperature in the dome, according to her AUI, was 24 degrees Celsius, and with the breeze blowing through the tram tunnel, she felt very comfortable in her long-sleeved shirt.
“I like your hand.” Juliet turned down toward the voice and smiled when she saw the little girl with the doll from earlier. Juliet spread her red, plasteel fingers and said, “It’s not my favorite color, but it’s not bad, huh?”
“I like red a lot!” the girl replied, and then a young woman in a light gray business skirt hurried over and grabbed her wrist.
“Sam! I’m sorry if she’s bothering you,” the woman said, pulling the girl away.
“It’s no bother,” Juliet called after her, but the woman didn’t look back. Juliet sighed and asked Angel, “Tell me about some of the jobs . . .” She stopped speaking as she saw a tram coming down the tunnel. Silvery, sleek, and faster than any of the transit around Tucson, it rapidly approached and stopped.
A pleasant voice announced, “Silver line is open and serving the main loop through the central Luna City dome. This public transit vehicle will depart in two minutes and fifty-three seconds.” Juliet followed the sparse crowd onto the tram car, pleased that it wasn’t crowded; there were plenty of seats to go around.
As she sat down, positioned, she hoped, for a good view of Luna City as they cleared the tunnel, she tried her question again, “Tell me about some of the jobs you found. I mean aboard ships.”
“There are quite a few, but one that stood out to me was a job aboard a merchant vessel called Polar Perishables. The ad says that they are a mid-sized operation, have a friendly crew, and are seeking a ‘network and data person’ to work on streamlining their merchandising system while en route to the Jupiter system.”
“And they’ll hire SOA operators?”
“Yes, I found their advertisement on the Luna City SOA board as well as on a civilian posting.”
“I don’t know,” Juliet said, leaning the side of her head against the cool window. “Sounds kinda boring, but seeing Jupiter and the domes on Europa would be nice.”
“It wouldn’t hurt to interview, would it?”
“I guess not. Maybe we’ll set something up. Let’s talk about it when we get to the hotel.” Juliet grabbed the edge of the seat as the tram started moving—she’d totally tuned out the automated announcements. The tunnel exit rapidly grew larger, and then the tram was out, and she was treated to a panoramic view of an enormous park that opened up around the tram tracks, the green expanse running all the way to the edge of the tall spires of Luna City. “God,” she breathed, “how did they build so much so fast? How long ago was this city founded?”
“2038. To answer your first question, much of the city was constructed with AI-controlled labor—swarms of nanites and millions of tons of heavy equipment and raw materials. Some of the same strategies are still employed, though on a smaller scale and with much less sophisticated AIs running the nanites. Still, as new buildings and domes are required, the newer, less dangerous tech has proven sufficient.”
“It’s amazing,” Juliet said, eyeing how some of the tallest, most graceful spires stretched up almost to the dome itself, where hazy moisture hung. “Does it rain here?”
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“Yes, a weather system is monitored and managed by atmospheric towers near the dome's edges. They’re built on principles similar to the terra-forming towers working to cleanse Earth’s air and water. You’ll also find similar technology on many of the solar system’s moons and Mars.”
“Isn’t it great, Angel?” Juliet watched the downtown area of Luna City rapidly approach, admiring the slender, reflective towers. As they grew near, she saw more and more advertisements, and some of the magical sheen fell away, especially when they rounded a corner, and she saw a gigantic, full-video ad on the side of an enormous arcology building for a WBD medical nanite implant.
“Ugh,” she grunted, moving her eyes off the building and down to the sidewalks, watching the people of Luna moving along. They looked much like the people of Phoenix, but their fashion was definitely different. Juliet had a hard time putting her finger on it at first, but then she realized they just seemed more comfortable. They wore brighter colors and lighter fabrics mixed with coats and hats that no one in Phoenix would wear, at least not in the daytime, not downtown. She saw faux white fox furs, top hats, people with canes, and cowboy boots, all mixed with people wearing expensive tailored suits or others wearing almost nothing.
“Luna City downtown, stop A,” the tram announced, then rapidly decelerated and came to a halt. “Moving to Luna City downtown, stop B in one minute and fifty-four seconds.”
“You’ll want to disembark here,” Angel said. “The hotel you requested is less than a kilometer from this station.”
Juliet hurriedly stood up and moved to the open tram doors, and when she stepped out, the smell in the air caught her by surprise. The odor in the space station and the tram had been decidedly neutral, but here, standing on the plasteel platform of the tram, she was surprised by the moisture in it and the faint, cloying scent of something like a mixture between urine and body odor. She wrinkled her nose and moved to the steps leading down from the platform.
“It smells a little like Phoenix in the summer. I mean the downtown area. God, why did I think it would smell cleaner?”
“The air is treated and recycled, and the frequent showers are said to freshen the city's odor, but there are nearly nine million permanent residents of Luna City, and many of them are unhoused.”
“Unhoused?”
“Yes, as in most cities on Earth, there are those that do not want to work in the corporate system. Luna City has a harder time than terrestrial cities when it comes to displacing those individuals. There are work programs and shelters, but you’ll find that many people come to Luna and overstay their visas. Some argue that it’s the always pleasant temperatures and weather and suggest altering the daily cycles of artificial weather to include snow and hailstorms, but advocacy groups . . .”
“Okay, okay. I think I get it,” Juliet said, noticing, as she descended the steps of the tram station to the sidewalk running perpendicular to the tramline, that she suddenly felt like she was in any old city on Earth; up close, the buildings didn’t look so special. Up close, she could see the stains on the plasteel sidewalks and the storefronts. Up close, she could see the people lurking in doorways, giving her hooded, sidelong, measuring glances.
“I should have known better,” she muttered, wondering how she could have thought there was some kind of fairytale, magical city on the moon. Sure, it was a wonder, the very fact that it existed was a wonder, but she’d given the corporations running things a bit too much credit. She’d given people too much credit. “When people gather, you’re gonna get all kinds, I guess.” Juliet glared at a shifty-looking man who openly stared at her from the doorway of a closed business.
He had bulging chrome eyes, a messy wirejob on his left hand, and twitched like he was in dire need of his next fix. Still staring at her, he muttered something to the hooded, bulky man next to him, and they both shifted toward her, making a show of walking in the same direction. “Angel,” Juliet said, “how far is the hotel?”
“Seven hundred meters.”
“Are we in a bad part of town?” Juliet sighed. Not for the first time, she wished she had better mastery of the psionics lattice in her head. She wished she didn’t have to close her eyes and concentrate on an image of the target in mind, and she wished that it was more accurate and not prone to being overwhelmed by others’ thoughts in a crowded area. If she were to stop and try to focus on the man following her, it could be disastrous.
“Bad part of town? Do you mean high crime rates?”
“Yes.” Juliet tried to keep her tone even. She increased her pace, trying to join a larger group of pedestrians moving in the same direction. As she caught up to the small crowd, she glanced over her shoulder, relieved to see the two men still walking along the sidewalk but talking animatedly. They’d fallen behind quite a lot and didn’t seem at all interested in her. “Maybe I’m just too nervous.”
“Luna City has low levels of violent crime during the daytime and overall less crime than Phoenix, though they do have higher instances of kidnapping and, as I was saying before, vagrancy.”
Juliet quickened her step, annoyed at having to roll her suitcase with her. She was strong enough, especially with her cyber arm, to carry it, but it was awkward—too big for her to lug without it bouncing against her hip or knee. “I think I’m going to lighten my wardrobe and switch to a backpack. This suitcase just seemed so cool, and I was excited to be able to pack so much, but it’s not practical if I’m going to be moving around a lot.”
Angel didn’t reply, and Juliet figured she had nothing to add to the subject. It wasn’t like the PAI ever had to worry about luggage. Though she felt a little sheepish about it, Juliet continued to look over her shoulder periodically, always on guard for someone who might want to mess with her in one way or another. One thing she’d picked up over the last few months was a very healthy sense of paranoia, and she didn’t think it was wise to ignore her instincts in a new city, even one as “magical” as Luna.
“For all I know,” she muttered, perhaps for Angel’s benefit, perhaps to make herself feel better, “those guys backed off because I’d stared at them and hurried my pace. They saw I wasn’t an easy, dopey tourist.”
“A distinct possibility,” Angel replied. “Your hotel is the next building on the right.” Juliet glanced up and to her right, where a rounded, mirrored tower rose into the pale misty sky. At street level, it was darker, the plasteel curves more gray than shining, but if she ignored that and focused on the parts of the buildings soaring high over their heads, the Luna skyline was still beautiful.
The hotel she’d chosen was Mirage Suites, one of the oldest registered hotels in Luna City. Juliet hadn’t picked it because it was old, though. She’d had Angel research hotels known for their discretion. When Angel had come upon Mirage Suites, she’d found a lot of online chatter indicating that it was a favorite of visiting SOA operatives.
When Juliet saw the cursive, amber faux neon sign that said simply, “Mirage,” she smiled, pleased with her decision. Something about the signage and the revolving door evoked a weird sense of nostalgia for her that was only compounded when the suit-wearing doorman tipped his bowler hat and said, “Welcome, ma’am.”
“Thank you,” Juliet said, stepping into the revolving doorway. She barked a short laugh, amused at how the door started moving ahead of her steps without her needing to push on it. More than that, it seemed to have clever sensors and an intelligent management program because it slowed enough for her to pull her suitcase in behind her, then sped up as she started walking again. Juliet shook her head, but her smile didn’t fade—why was she getting so excited about a door?
As the plastiglass panel in front of her spun past the opening and she stepped out into the lobby, her smile only broadened, and her earlier dark thoughts faded. Juliet felt like she’d stepped back in time into a noir mystery set in an elegant New York hotel from the mid-twentieth century. Marble floors arranged in a checkerboard pattern of black and white gleamed in the light of a crystal and brass chandelier that hung from the vaulted, plaster ceiling. To one side, in a recessed, carpeted area, elegant faux-leather sofas were arranged around an enormous marble hearth in which soft flames flickered.
People sat and meandered in the big lobby, wearing all sorts of attire, though it was clear that most of them spent a good deal more time and money on their appearance than Juliet. She shifted, a little uncomfortable around so many finely dressed people, and started rolling her bag toward the tall, darkly stained wooden counter. The wall behind the counter was painted burgundy and had framed, black and white photos of what Juliet could only guess were early pictures of the Luna skyline with far fewer buildings than the present day.
A synth stepped forward as she approached and said, “Welcome to Mirage Suites, madam.” Juliet wasn’t sure how she knew he was a synth—he had real-looking flesh, hair, and eyes, but something about his posture and movements as he approached the counter signaled to a deep part of her brain that this wasn’t a natural, living being. He wore a white dress shirt under a black vest and smiled at her pleasantly. Juliet released her grip on her suitcase and rested her arm on the warm, wooden counter.
“Hello,” she said, then smiled, ran her left hand’s fingertips over the counter, and said, “Is this real wood? Seems expensive to ship wood to the moon . . .”
“Oh, Luna has had genned hardwood growing in domes twelve and thirteen for nearly thirty years now. Lovely, isn’t it?” He, too, ran his palm over the rich surface, and Juliet found herself second-guessing her earlier assessment. Maybe he was just a strangely awkward person who stood staring into space when not speaking to customers. He interrupted her musings by asking, “Are you checking in or simply visiting?”
“Oh, did my PAI not contact you?”
“We don’t accept wireless connections here in the Mirage. I’ll be happy to take your information and provide a payment code.”
“Oh, right!”
“I explained this to you when we chose this hotel. It’s why we couldn’t check on vacancies,” Angel added.
Juliet chuckled, saying, “I’m checking in under my SOA license. The number is XR713-004.”
“Excellent, madam. Would you like a single room or a suite? We have a special on the Venetian suite . . .”
“No, no. Just a single room for me, please.”
“Very well. One bed?”
“Yes.”
“Wonderful,” he replied, eyes flickering with LEDs as his AUI flashed information at him. “I’ll put you in room 419. How many nights?”
“Let’s say a week for now.”
“Very good, very good. The rate is one-eighty per night. We’ll require payment remittance each day before eleven AM, or we’ll assume you’ve checked out.”
“Don’t get me wrong, I like how you guys do things, but it’s kinda weird not being able to set these things all up remotely, isn’t it?”
“Indeed, but the founder of this hotel, Mr. West,” he gestured to a black and white photo of a tall man in a three-piece suit standing in front of the hotel, the neon “Mirage” sign behind him, then continued, “survived the war and swore he’d never put anything he valued on a public net, never allow even local wireless connections to his data. The Mirage has stood by that core value statement since the treaties were signed.”
“Uh, the pictures are black and white for style, right?” Juliet knew the answer, of course, but something about the man in his suit screamed of pretense, and she wanted to deflate the tall tale a little.
“That’s right, madam; color photography existed long before humans settled on the lunar surface.”
“Right,” Juliet smiled and thumped her palm on the wooden counter. “Well, thank you, um,” she looked pointedly around for a nametag or nameplate of any sort, but not finding one, she let the silence hang for a moment, wondering if he’d get the hint. He stood impassively, so she said, “Sir.”
“You’re welcome. Here.” He reached below the counter and lifted a thin paper brochure with a picture of the hotel on the front. “This is a directory of our services. You’ll find your room number and the code you’ll need to remit payment for your room printed within. The elevators are just there to your right. Will you need help with your luggage?”
“No, thank you.” Again, Juliet thumped the counter with her palm. Maybe his lack of personality was causing her to act out a little. Overall, she was pleased, though; the fellow might have weirded her out a bit, but she appreciated the utter anonymity of the hotel’s policies.
She started wheeling her suitcase toward the shiny brass doors of the elevators when a new window appeared on her AUI, and Angel excitedly spoke up, “Juliet! I was going through a block of ‘spam’ messages SOA forwarded from your old operator ID—I think one of them is from Honey!”