by Sean Platt
Leo was waiting, watching. He said nothing but seemed less jittery, so York continued.
“I’ve lost so many of my personal memories, but it seems there was little to lose. On the other hand, I’ve retained all of my skills. I could program something for you right here and right now — current with what was exclusive and secret in the 2060s, anyway. It’s in my blood. And I’ll tell you: If your issue here was something I was trying to program a solution for, I’d peel the problem down to its barest form. At each stage, I’d ask, ‘What’s the core issue?’ Then I’d mercilessly strip away code, not caring for the ‘beauty’ of or my own pride in what I’d written. Writing code is an art, and every art bears the artist’s signature. My signature is sparse. Glitches and problems come from deviations and bulk, so I try to stay lean. Focus on the core, trim without flinching, and the code almost writes itself.”
Leo shook his head. “I don’t see what you’re saying.”
“You’re overcomplicating the issue, Leo. What is the core problem you have in front of you?”
“We’re running out of Lunis.”
“That’s a feature. An attribute. What’s the problem beneath it?”
“Everyone is going to go into withdrawal. And then they’ll start killing each other.”
“Will they?”
“According to what you said, their brains will panic. I’ve seen footage. Panic causes stampedes. Panic causes riots. There’s no time to think when you’re panicked, so you smash and grab.”
“So the key problem is the panic?”
“Well, yes. Of course.”
“Then don’t look for ways to replenish your Lunis supply. Look for ways to assuage the panic.”
“How?”
“You’ve led this group with fairness and compassion for the duration of my coherent memory, Leo. You know these people.”
Something like realization passed Leo’s features. It was as if the seed of an idea had just begun to spark within him. “I’ve led them for longer than that.”
“Then you know what they want. You know how to push their buttons. They trust you.”
“Will trust matter when they panic?”
“I suppose that depends on what you promise.”
“Maybe you could help me,” said Leo, looking up with big eyes. “Be a co-presenter at the meeting or something. Explain about Lunis and the way it works.”
York shook his head. “Are you kidding me? I’m Crumb to these people no matter what you say. Even if they want to listen to me, they won’t be able to get their minds to do it.”
“Then just stand beside the stage and give me thumbs-ups. Let me convey what you told me to them.”
“You’ll do fine without me,” said York.
“You’re leaving?”
“Just to Bontauk.”
“Why?”
“I have some searching to do. Someone’s after me, and I can’t just sit here and wait for them to arrive.”
“But you’re up here in the first place to stay off the grid,” said Leo.
“I won’t be long. But there are some things I’d like to access that I can’t do from a handheld. Quark stuff I think I can get at, and that may illuminate some of what’s going on with me, my mind, and whoever’s after me. I tried from SerenityBlue’s school, but there’s something odd about the connection there. I asked her, and she said it was ‘protected.’ I need an open connection. As a guy who spent his life in computers, the idea of putting ‘protection’ controls in place usually just means neutering options I need at my fingertips.”
“Maybe Serenity knows a thing or two about protection that you haven’t considered,” said Leo.
York had thought of that, too, but no matter how little he could recall, he still had an innovator’s curiosity driving his mental vacuum. He couldn’t just remain idle. He had to see what he could learn. He could be quick at Bontauk, using what Leah had told him and what he remembered from his time there as Crumb. He could get in and out. He would technically leave a footprint, but nobody would be able to trace him if he was quick.
“It’s fine, Leo. The bigger problem is here. With your people. You still haven’t gotten down to the core of the issue: In the end, what do they really want?”
“They want a way out, nothing more and nothing less. They won’t want empty words. I can’t just tell them what’s wrong. I need a solution to the panic.”
“But you already knew that. So what’s the solution?”
“I have an idea.” He did, too. York could see it on his face. When York had mentioned leaving a moment ago, Leo had looked almost lost without a hand to hold. It had only taken half a minute for the spark of a solution York had already seen in Leo’s eyes to bloom into something more concrete.
“Not Lunis,” said York.
“We can’t get it. No. Not Lunis.”
“So…what?” York wasn’t sure if Leo was simply following his dangling hope, frail a string as it was, or if he was actually formulating a solution. Panic needed a place to focus because its very nature was about chaos. Control chaos, and panic falls into line. It was easier said than done, but Leo now looked confident.
“I almost have it. Hang on.” Leo held up a finger, and York could see mental wheels turning.
“Is it simple?” said York.
“Oh, yes.”
Leo stood. Unlike the last time he’d risen from his chair, his movements seemed precise, his jittering gone. He moved to a table near the door, reached under it, pawed around, then smiled to himself.
“What, Leo?” said York. “What are you thinking?”
“Tell me,” said Leo. “Have you ever heard of an organization called ‘Gaia’s Hammer’?”
Dominic stepped into the main green on the lower level of the mall fifteen minutes late. He’d actually arrived early (he was more eager to get his dust than he wanted to admit, and the ugly truth was that because the amount Omar promised today was small, it would, in fact, be his dust), but he’d parked his sizable frame at a Magic Dragon on the upper level and taken his time picking at some orange chicken before heading down. Omar wanted to make him jump through hoops like a dog? Fine. Fuck him; he could wait until whatever time Dominic chose to show up.
Once on the green, Dominic picked Omar out as easily as he’d have picked out a flashlight in a dark room. The dealer was dressed in another of his ostentatious suits, this one a soft shade of purple, and stood to greet Dominic with wide arms. Dominic was in no hurry, and Omar had stood while they were still far apart, so Dominic made him wait in his crucified position, trying to make him look stupid to onlookers. But of course, he knew that somehow, he was the one who looked foolish. He could feel his own annoyed expression, knowing it must look dramatic and dumb. He could feel the stiffness in his bones, the way his gut gave him a slight waddle. And here he was, walking across the open lawn to black Jesus.
In the seat at Omar’s side was his errand boy Jimmy, who had barely looked up, knuckles-deep in a box of some sort of confection. There were several similar boxes (red and white, rectangular and long) empty on the small table in front of him. The third person in the group — apparently the smuggler, whom Omar had called Katie — was a phenomenal-looking blonde with long legs and soft, flowing hair. It was entirely inappropriate of Dominic to notice her ample chest, but if he was here to meet a drug dealer to discuss dark dealings, he figured ogling tits was a minor crime to toss onto the pile.
Dominic came almost close enough for Omar to embrace him then stopped short. Omar looked momentarily hurt then dropped his arms and became all business.
“Dom,” he said, extending a hand.
Dominic stared at the hand. “Where’s my dust?”
“So loud,” said Omar. “Don’t you know how to be on the down-low?”
Dominic glanced at the woman. She was slouched down, legs straight in front rather than demurely crossed. She was eyeing him and picking something from her teeth with the corner of one of Jimmy’s spent candy boxes.
>
“You didn’t introduce us,” Dominic said, not bothering to look at Omar.
“Sorry, Dom.” A smile entered Omar’s voice. “Dominic, this is Katie.”
“Kate,” said the woman.
“And Katie, this is Dominic.”
Dominic extended a hand. “You can call me Dom.”
“Super,” said Kate. She took Dominic’s hand and gave it a cursory shake.
“Jimmy you know.”
Dominic and Jimmy grunted at each other. Dominic continued to stand over the blonde, suddenly realizing he must look like a vulture. There was an empty chair beside her, so he sat. The chair creaked as he lowered himself. The woman stopped picking her teeth and moved on to eyeing Dominic suspiciously. He met her gaze.
“What?” said Kate.
Dominic blinked then returned his attention to Omar, who’d cleared his throat. He saw that Omar had extended his hand. Dominic considered ignoring it again, but then saw the edge of a packet in it. Omar wasn’t trying to shake his hand. He was trying to hand off.
Dominic snatched the dust and pocketed it.
“How much?” said Dominic, reaching into his pocket.
Omar waved a hand. “Don’t sweat it. Bundle it in with tomorrow’s shipment.”
Dominic looked around. Now Omar was the one being too loud, and none too subtle.
“Should we talk in private?” said Dominic.
“We’re under a Cone of Silence here. Nobody’s hearing this.”
Dominic eyed the woman.
“You don’t need to be shy around Katie,” said Omar.
“Kate.”
“She’s got nothing on you, champ. She smuggles dust for a living. On her last run, she killed a federal inspector.”
Dominic looked at Kate.
“He tried to stick his dick in me,” said the woman.
“So your little dirty laundry doesn’t mean anything to her,” Omar continued. “And as slippery as you think I am, you feel sure that I’ve already told them everything anyway, right? Including that you’re a cop. A captain, actually.” Then Omar glanced at Kate.
Kate tossed her chin toward Dominic. “Try to pin me, and I talk about this meeting here,” she said.
“I’m not going to pin you,” said Dominic. “I’m…”
“Let’s get this all out in the open,” said Omar, cutting Dominic off. “We’ve got a bit of a problem. But more than that, our problem is just a symptom of something larger. Three larger problems, in fact.” He pointed to himself, Kate, and Dominic in turn.
“Four,” said Jimmy.
“You’re a henchman at best,” said Kate.
“Fuck you, bitch,” Jimmy retorted.
“…and a loose end in need of trimming at worst,” she finished. Then she smiled, but the grin was sideways. Predatory, like a crocodile’s. Seeing it, Dominic’s eyes flicked from Jimmy to Kate, from Kate to Jimmy to Omar. Something had transpired in the group before Dominic’s arrival, and whatever it was had established power in Omar’s and Kate’s corners. Dominic saw the way Omar was looking at Kate and realized something interesting: The power wasn’t just being shared by Omar and Kate; it was being shared equally, like partners. He’d never seen that from Omar.
Jimmy looked away, pouting.
“I’ve been running dust for years, but for me it’s always been another rung on the ladder. Kate? Well, let’s say that though she’s an exceptional smuggler, she’s got other aims and is eager to see them realized. And you, Dom. You been buying my dust, but it’s not dust you want. It’s solutions. If you could have the solution without having to handle the dust, all the better.”
Dominic found himself thinking of Leo, up in the mountains. The Organa leader was trying to wean off of Lunis and seemed to be managing, albeit slowly and with a fair share of pain. Leo — the old man Dominic thought of like a father and whom he’d betrayed to the NPS. Did Dominic have Leo’s breed of strength inside himself? Omar was right; he just wanted the Organa issue solved and would love to be free of Lunis’s gritty gray hold, if weaning were possible.
“Only a fool keeps hammering away at means instead of occasionally looking upstream to the ends,” Omar continued. “We could keep talking about how to improve our little threeway — getting Katie cleared back up to the moon to retrieve the rather large shipment she left behind…”
“And live to fight another day,” said Kate, a tad defensively. Her eyes took on a hawklike look, lips narrowing into something pursed and beautiful.
“That she left behind with good cause, but that she left behind nonetheless.” Omar held his hand up toward Kate. “And we could see about increasing shuttle runs, bribing the right people, and getting that machine running. Dom would get the dust where it needed to go. But to what end?”
“I can’t have an unsteady supply. You get me this shit tomorrow, and that is what we need to discuss — how to make sure this never, ever happens again.” He wanted to rub his forehead and say he was too old for this shit, but it was too on the nose.
“Well, that’s part of it, Dom,” said Omar, settling into his usual persuasive, companionable tone. Dominic could almost see the conversational ball sliding into Omar’s court, where it always seemed to land. “And that’s the dominant part of it all for you. But what helps us helps you. You want more secure suppliers, right?”
Slowly, knowing it was usually a mistake to grant Omar a point, Dominic nodded.
“What makes us secure is not having to rely solely on dust trade. Right now, we got a straight line, and it’s like a string of old-timey Christmas lights. Your grandmama ever have ‘em?”
Kate rolled her eyes.
“Well, mine did. Ancient. Old poor black lady below the line? Shit. Grandmama and her friends never got rid of anything. These old lights, they ran on AC. We had to get a converter. And they were shit. One bulb went out, the whole string went with them.”
“This is charming, sweetums,” said Kate.
“Point is, that’s us. One little problem on the moon, and the whole operation stops. There’s tons of little links that have to happen just so. We’re using the moon elevator, right? But what if we could use shuttles?”
“You want to get clearance for private launches on dust runs?” Kate laughed. Dominic found himself entranced; even sarcasm looked good on her.
“Just an example.” Omar raised one hand and used the other to tick off possible choke points on his fingers. “The elevator. The inspectors. Ground transport on the moon. One primary runner because we never seem to have two worth using. One supplier. And one major client.” He pointed at Dominic.
“I’m your main client?” The idea shocked him. He’d thought he was one of thousands, all large and buying in quantity.
“Shit, Dom,” said Omar. “Know your drug. You run in dust, so you’re a dust-head yourself. But you remind me of Jimmy, who only drinks White Russians and doesn’t even know it’s a girls’ drink.”
Jimmy looked over as Omar barreled on.
“Yes, major client. You think dust is a street drug? It’s a hippie drug. It don’t sell worth shit unless it’s to the granolas. That’s the dust trade: from the moon to Organas. But that’s just another weak spot in Grandmama’s old Christmas lights. What if something happened to your buddies in the mountains?”
Dominic found himself thinking of Leo, Austin Smith, the NPS, and the bug he’d planted in Leo’s house before returning to DZ.
“The money stops, that’s what. We can get product but can’t sell it. All you care about is having supply. Katie cares about money. I care about power, and answers.”
“Answers to what?” Dominic asked.
“Well get to that,”
“For the record,” Kate cut in, “I don’t care about money as much as you think. I just want my life back.”
Dominic looked at Kate, wondering what that meant. She seemed to blush and look down, as if she’d said something she shouldn’t have.
“Whatever,” said Omar. “All I’m
saying is that none of us want a dust supply chain. We want what that chain currently gives us. It’s all a means to an end. Now, we’re three smart cats with a set of truly unique skills. So I say we address immediate needs — ” He tipped his head toward Dominic. “ — and then we stop thinking ‘means’ and start aiming straight for some ‘ends.’”
“Omar, if you don’t get down to…” Kate began.
“I was in the joint back in the day. Flat 4,” said Omar, his eyes on Dominic. “When I was there, I met a cat named Craig Braemon.” Then, speaking to Kate: “You know the name Craig Braemon?”
“Criminal,” said Dominic. “Robber baron.”
Omar turned then pointed at Dominic. “Capitalist.”
“What the hell are you two talking about?” said Kate. Then, probably because she’d dealt with Omar and his bullshit before, she turned to Dominic for the answer.
Dominic felt his breath hitch as she turned her beautiful face toward him, then stuffed it down. “When the NAU switched over from dollars and pesos to credits, Braemon was the project head at the actuarial firm checking the books. He skimmed off the top the entire time, making himself stupid rich.”
“He saw inefficiencies in the system,” said Omar. “Any successful person needs that ability. To see need where it’s not being filled. To see better ways to do things than they’re currently being done.”
“To exploit inefficiencies,” said Dominic.
“See,” Omar countered, “motherfuckers like you have given that word a bad name. ‘Exploit.’ It means to see and use, not to make a bunch of orphans sad and piss on unicorns.”
“Took what wasn’t his.”
“Took what nobody else was going to claim,” said Omar. “I owe Craig a lot. He was like a mentor during my incarceration in 4. Taught me everything I know.”
Dominic laughed, but Omar ignored the insult and kept speaking.
