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2
The surgery – yeah, this was technically a surgery – was stuffy and enclosed and unbelievably hot. The neon sign – SCARLET CAVE – buzzed a dim glow across the walls, bathing the white man behind the desk in pink. The monitors were mounted on brackets hanging from the ceiling, and at the bottom Luna saw something dark and furry wander out. A British Shorthair, eyes laid with annular strips that glowed in the dark – green, like a goblin.
“Customers?” the man said, offering Luna and Vanderman a sunny smile. He turned to the half-open flush door on his left. “Peach, people here!”
“’Lax Dyker,” said Liz. “This isn’t a regular customer. Got a surprise for you.”
“Hm?” He pushed his visor glasses over his hairline, revealing a set of red eyes. “A surprise?”
“Ever had a crack at a Tier-1 virus before?”
“Tier-1 virus?” he said, gape-mouthed.
She pointed at Luna. “This babe needs one removed.”
Luna gave him an upwards nod. “Sup.”
“That's a bit strange, isn't it?” He sounded flabbergasted. “How come – ”
“Hey! What’s going on?” A black teenage girl came running out from the doorway; she was of medium height, had blue-green hair, nylon trousers, and a dark vest. NOBODY CARES! the words on the vest proclaimed. I'M A ROCKSTAR!
“Peach,” said Dyker. “Someone has a Tier 1.”
“Tier-1 what?” Peach said.
“Virus.”
“Oh cool. Never seen one of those before. Sounds ’citin’.” Peach teetered from the door, moving with a half limp, greeting Luna and Vanderman with a gap-toothed smile. They exchanged names. “Sorry the place is a mess. Not often people come in on the weekends.”
“It’s Monday,” said Luna, and she was immediately struck with the impression that this girl was a bit too young to be working in a place like this. In fact, she felt a little dismayed that someone her age could wind up with a decent-paying job. Was it really that easy out there? No, thought Luna, it really wasn't. She must have had some connections. Her parents were likely rich folk.
“Or yeah – ” Peach palmed her forehead – stupid!
Liz crossed her arms. “Just wake up?”
“Sorry, my night was awful tiring.”
“Tiring?” said Dyker, and he let out a deep, orotund laugh. “Tired of doing nothing maybe. Tiring?” The laughter eventually broke into a coughing fit; a pretty bad one, at that.
“Might wanna lay off the cigarettes,” said Luna.
“You okay, Dad?” Peach looked at him sweetly.
Luna's eyes flew wide. “Your dad?”
Peach gave her a knowing smirk. “Adopted.”
Dyker cleared his throat deeply, biffing his chest a couple times. “Best decision I’ve ever made. Till I found out how much it costs to keep her.”
That touched Luna a little bit. She smiled, then felt something press against her toes.
The cat was sniffing her legs, seeming to give her a pat down.
Cute little guy, she thought, but when she went to pet it, it let out a feral hiss. “Whoa! What did I do?”
“You done failed the test,” said Dyker with an astute nod. “Lenina is our expert advisor. She knows who’s been naughty and who’s been nice.”
“I take it I’ve been a naughty girl then,” said Luna, laughing.
“How about me?” Vanderman curiously knelt to pet Lenina. The cat purred and wormed around his arm, closing its eyes as if receiving a relaxing back massage. “Ha! I passed! I passed the test!”
“Well that’s not fair,” said Luna, and everyone laughed quietly.
“Can I pick her up?” said Vanderman, already wrapping his hands around her. “I love cats.”
“If she’ll let – and she has,” said Dyker.
Luna didn’t even notice – she was too focused on trying to the clear the annoying sex pop-ups on her MD. Constantly having to see those tits and dicks, and with no way of turning them off…. Yeah, it was giving her a headache, a subtle, bandeau sort of pressure. She wasn’t actually sure it had been a headache at all, but rather her eyes’ reaction to the porn.
“So can you help me?” she asked.
“Might be able to,” said Dyker. Then he glared at her, through her, with dawning suspicion. “And you’re sure it’s a Tier 1?”
For a moment Luna realised that she actually hadn’t been sure. For all she knew, it could have been one of Glitch’s tricks to get her to turn herself into the police. After all, it did succeed in making her feel hopeless. Regardless, she nodded, assuring him it was, and then Dyker leaned back on his swivel chair.
“Do you get pop-ups?” he asked.
“Oh terrible,” she said. “The horny kind.”
He chuckled at that. “Well, lay on the Jensen and we’ll have a look, an inspection if you’re fancy.”
“The Jensen?” said Luna, taking her jacket off.
“The recliner seat,” he said, pointing at the long seat with carbon-fibre arms, sprockets, and a leather footrest. A fifteen-inch flatscreen hung suspended over it, facing inward and tuned to white noise.
“Interesting name,” she said, surprised that she hadn’t heard that before – and she had been to quite a few cyber-docs in her time. She relaxed back on the Jensen and Peach came over to secure the steel lock around her forehead. It was standard procedure; when someone jacked into your console things could go very wrong. One jerk and the port could malfunction and suddenly you’d be hit with a thousand volts of brain-scrambling electricity. Luna had always felt a bit anxious about that happening, but the odds were low, as long as the docs knew what they were doing, and she had a good feeling about these people. She wasn’t sure why just yet, but they seemed nice.
“Everything good to go?” asked Dyker, coughing again.
“Think so,” said Peach. “Luna?”
She gave a thumbs up. “Ready to go.”
Dyker strapped his visor on and grinned a set of golden-brown teeth. “Let’s give a look-see.”
Peach pulled the flex from the seat and plugged it into the neural port above Luna’s ear. Quick bolt of electricity, and then she was hot to trot.
The TV turned dead black. Seconds later it switched to a channel displaying nothing but a loading bar. Once it filled up, Luna’s MD was on screen, featuring the same porn ads, along with foreign windows of languages she couldn’t even recognise, much less understand.
“Lotta filth,” said Dyker. “If you’d been any younger I’d have told you to cover your eyes, Peach.”
“How old are you anyway?” Vanderman asked her.
“Seventeen,” said Peach.
The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
“You’re almost there, kid,” said Vanderman. “Weren’t you that age when we met, Luna?”
“Think so,” Luna said.
“Time’s gone by so fast,” he said, petting Lenina in his arms. “Before you know it you’re an adult, you have backpain and low energy and you understand what it was like for your parents.”
“Yet they still took care of us,” said Luna, thinking of Mom. The image of her was almost enough to make her cry, but only because she looked so much like Sarah, with the snowwhite hair and the cheekbones….
“Word to the wise: stay out of the parenting business,” said Dyker. “You don’t get paid enough.”
On the screen, Dyker had navigated the inner System Control, hit
“Oh wow,” he said.
“What is it?” said Luna, already having a rough idea.
“Ten million lines,” said Dyker with a laugh. “Who did you piss off?”
She sighed. “A man by the name of Glitch.”
Dyker’s smile disappeared. His face became intense.
“What?” she said.
“Glitch? The enforcer?”
She paused. Then said, “You know him?”
He took a moment to respond. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah I used to work with him at Zinc. I was a lead cyber-tracker, which meant I dealt with finding missing people.”
“Oh?”
“How did you meet him?” he asked.
Luna dismissed the question with a hand. “It's a long story. 'Sides, I'm more curious about what you have to say.”
A sigh. “He was…. Well, he was fine. Said he couldn’t stand the crime in the country, used to design weapons. He made it bigtime, got a couple million in the bank and retired early at forty-three. I remember the story he used to say about wanting to get back at State Capital for not doing anything about the murders in Zemon, Lucklanta Bay, Betoda….”
“Did you know him personally or…?”
“Not really,” he said. “He was sort of the lead guy on the tech terminal, until he joined the forces.”
“So…?” She was tuned in but also wanted him to get to the point already.
“Well,” he said, “he’s very good at designing stuff, and just looking at this… ten million lines. A Tier 2 at most has about fifteen, maybe twenty thousand.”
“I know that,” she said.
“Yeah, which means ordinary methods won’t take this down unless you have an incredible anti-virus,” he said.
Hot defeat rolled through her stomach, sloshing and sudsing until she felt ill. “So I’m fucked? That’s what you’re saying?”
He shook his head. “Not necessarily – ”
“Shit!” she shouted.
“Listen – ”
“I already know what you’re gonna say,” she replied. “You’re gonna suggest surgery, right? Have the MD removed from my brain?”
“That ain’t what I was gonna say,” replied Dyker quickly. “I know that won't work.”
Luna looked confused. “What?” she said.
He pushed his monitor arm away, lifted his glasses, and gave her a serious look. “There’s more than one way to skin a cat….” He hesitated. “No offence, Lenina.”
Luna would have found that funny.
“Now, yours has ten million lines, and an average Tier-2 could be cleared in a few hours. This, however…. This would take years, and it’s Braineater Class, which means exactly what you think.”
“Get to the point,” said Luna, growing more agitated.
“Zinc designed a prototype antivirus.” He started typing on his computer, and without looking he said: “You can hook her out, Peach.”
Peach disabled the Jensen, counted down from three, and pulled out the wire from Luna’s temple. Peach unbuckled the lock around her forehead and Luna sat up feeling relieved, spreading her legs over the bedding.
“There’s an antivirus – which in this case is your antiserum – called HelpMe or, if you work on-site, Project Z.” Dyker turned the screen so that Luna could see it. The object was a black cube the size of a thimble, a mother-board on each side, a gold-coated prong at the top.
It didn’t look that advanced. In fact, it appeared very similar to everyday till-chips, ones from convenience stores or restaurants. How could this be the solution to such a complicated problem?
“A computer chip?” said Vanderman.
“Oh no,” said Dyker, lifting a finger. “This is the product of years of study, trial and error, all that crap.”
“How did you know about it?” asked Luna.
He clicked his tongue. “Insiders. I’m curious about new tech. It’s what brought me to work there when they were… well, smaller than they are now.”
“Take it things didn’t work out?” said Vanderman.
“No,” he said with a deprecatory smile. “Once they started pulling in the money and MiliCorp got involved they started seeking newer, better staff. Us oldies got thrown under the bus real quick.”
“Good thing I found you when I did,” said Liz, smiling proudly. “You were a mess.”
“A hot steaming one.” Then, continuing his monologue, he said, “Got a job here, adopted this angel from the Lucklanta Orphanage, and haven’t looked back since.” He had a big smile on his face, one that confirmed he had been telling the truth.
Luna returned it. “Nice. But what does any of this mean? How do I get it?”
“I can pull a few strings,” he said. “They’re always willing to have people to test on.”
“Small problem,” she said. But before she could say anything –
“She’s wanted,” said Liz. “Both of them are, actually.”
Dyker’s convivial smile inverted. “... Wanted? For what?”
Vanderman set the cat down. “Heist gone rogue.”
“Crooks? You brought crooks in here?” He sounded highly displeased. “Are you nuts?”
“Dyker – ” said Liz, and for a second it looked as though she were going to approach him.
“Don’t Dyker me,” he said. “Why are there two wanted criminals in the surgery?”
Liz uncrossed her arms, splaying her fingers. “They’re close friends!”
“I don’t give a damn!”
“I was gonna tell you – ”
“It doesn’t matter. I’m not helping criminals. Not for any price.”
“Dyker – ”
“Get them out of here or I’m calling the cops!” he shouted. “Now! I’m not messing around, Liz. They’re bringin’ nothin’ but trouble.”
“That’s not what I want!” said Luna. “That’s not what any of us want!” She stood with a look of shock, feeling something warm pass her. Peach.
“Stay away from her, Peach!” said Dyker.
“Listen,” said Vanderman.
“Out! NOOOOOW!” he said, bull-throated, pointing to the door.
“My sister’s been kidnapped!” shouted Luna suddenly.
A moment of silence, and Dyker’s scowl began to fade, his face turning a deep rust-red. “What?”
“Glitch has her,” she added quickly.
He appeared perplexed. “Glitch kidnapped your sister?”
“Yes,” she said. “Last night.”
His mouth opened, at first as if he was trying to say something, and then as if he were about to yawn. “My God….”
More silence.
“Look,” began Vanderman, “we’re not asking for a miracle – although that might be what we need – but I brought her here, promising that I would get her some help. You have a daughter to protect, I understand that, but Luna’s a good friend of mine, and we’re both good friends of Chip – who’s also been kidnapped too – and I’d like to think that Liz and I are on good terms. We’re good people – well, I mean, we’re not bad people. Life’s been hard, for all of us, but we need something, anything, that either points us to finding them or to clearing that virus from her system.”
Dyker’s face was watchful and lambent. It smoothed with a sigh. “What do you two want?”
“How do I get this virus out of me?” said Luna. “That’s all I want to know. Please, that’s all.”
“I told you,” he said. “Project Z.”
“How do I get that?”
“You don’t. Not if you’re a crook on the run.”
“Surely they’re not the only ones who have it,” said Vanderman. “C’mon, I know Zinc. They need a lot of money and government funding ain’t enough. How many are on the black market?”
“Vanderman,” said Luna, surprised that he would even bring up something like that. As far as she knew, Zinc steered away from that sort of stuff. The resources were funded by cities and police institutes. They were well grounded. They had everything.
“There is one,” said Dyker, steepling his fingers.
What? One? On the black market?
Vanderman took a step forward. The floorboard groaned under the weight of those ruthless nubuck boots. “Who has it?”
“The Legion,” he said.
“What?” snapped Luna.
“I knew it,” said Vanderman.
“Zinc sells to the Legion ’cause they're willing to pay almost anything for anything,” said Dyker in a tone that was almost conversational. “Guns, armour, drugs, prototypes.”
“You said they’re willing to pay almost anything,” said Luna. With a deeply intrigued eye, she said, “Define anything.”
“Millions,” he said, and he began typing again, clicking his mouse calmly. When he stopped, he added, “Right now, HelpMe’s going for 1.3 million on the black market, which is twice the amount they bought it for.” He turned the screen so they could read it.
The advertisement bubble read:
TIER 1 VIRUS CLEANSER. CLEARS UP TO ONE BILLION LINES OF CODE. ZINC-CERTIFIED PROTOTYPE. MOST POWERFUL VARIATION.
“Oh Christ,” said Luna, feeling defeated. “That’s way out of our price range.”
“That’s more than the gauntlets,” said Vanderman.
“And it’s only a prototype,” said Dyker. “There’s nothing absolute about it. It might not even work.”
“Does it say where to find it?” asked Luna.
“It wouldn’t be in the black market if it had a big sign saying where to find it, would it?” asked Dyker.
“Suppose not…” she said. “I’ll have to log the location myself.”
“Heh, it’s just like the old days,” said Vanderman. “Hunting people down, just you and me. No Chip.”
She frowned, feeling a pang of shame. The fact that Chip was also just in as much trouble as Sarah had never fully resonated with her; it was an underthought cushioned by a layer of dewy husk. She took a deep breath. “Thanks, Dyker. I’m really sorry to do this. I won’t speak a word of you to anyone, not a whisper. I promise.”
“How do you plan to get the money?” asked Peach curiously.
“Short answer: I don’t. That’s the thing about being a criminal. Sometimes you have to break the law to do what’s right, it’s a shitty truth that not a lot of people like to accept.”
“So you plan to steal it?” said Dyker.
“That’s what I’m best at,” she said.
“Stealing from a store or a business is one thing, but from an entire civilisation of gangs, murderers, rapists, and slave-hacking bastards?” He laughed. “Good luck with that.”
“C’mon Vanderman,” said Luna, not taking her eyes off Dyker. “We have a lot of work to do.”