I had maybe fifty seconds to get dive-ready, but after looking at all that money and failing to go to the bathroom I was having some trouble.
“Come on, come on, come on…” I muttered to myself, hoping that I wouldn’t have to use my chip’s trance function which always left me feeling kind of woozy when I woke up afterward and made for an all-around unsatisfying dive experience.
“Ten seconds on the clock… You’ve got this… You’ve got this…”
Then it happened, with a high-pitched tone and a buzz through my body, I was diving, and boy did it feel great.
WAKING UP IN REVERSE
I spawned in my car with a jolt like I’d just woken up from a falling dream and discovered I was overlooking an idyllic beachfront.
“That’s what I like to see.” I said with a smile before looking down at my very much there leg, “And that just makes it all the better.”
“Are you always going to be so enamored with your leg?” a familiar, if not slightly irritating voice asked with unmistakable annoyance.
“You betcha.” I replied coolly as I pulled out my pack of cigarettes and pulled one out with my lips, “How you doin’?”
“That’s an odd question to ask considering we left things with you almost getting us both killed.”
“Hey, I was in complete control of the situation, and unless you wanna get muted again, I suggest you consider changing your tone.”
Probably wasn’t a great start to my day, and I genuinely considered apologizing, but then something getting dropped in the trunk made me smile.
“Ah, always great when things go as planned, isn’t it?” I said before popping the trunk, jumping out of the car, and lighting my cigarette, “Any idea what we’re moving today?”
Quinn stayed stubbornly silent for a few seconds, allowing me a few peaceful seconds of listening to the gusty winds and crashing waves before she finally decided she couldn’t help but talk, “No, but there’s more than enough Freedom to get you through, and it looks like all the jobs are simple enough. There’s a very time-sensitive one that needs to be dead dropped on a train, but the rest work in your standard windows.”
I’d had dead drops before, usually it was some jumpy guy or gal who wanted something without having to get face-to-face, but I’d also had one or two that’d been weirdly professional.
“Anyone we know put in orders?” I asked as I looked over the three bags, which included a suitcase, a duffel, and a small backpack, as well as the box of Freedom.
“Uh… one of them is for that Benny fellow, you know the one? From Callomezi’s?”
I wanted to say I didn’t need reminding, but I actually had, “Oh, cool. Glad to hear he’s moved up from doorman to bagman.”
“Quite, would you like to check up on the Don?”
After grabbing and injecting a painless dose of Freedom into my thigh, I slammed the trunk shut with a smile and nodded, “You just read my mind.”
There was a long pause after that, long enough for me to get strapped in anyway, before Quinn finally let out a “Yes.” like it should’ve been common knowledge.
“Well, that aside, yes,” I replied, pretending I wasn’t really uncomfortable, “get him on the horn. And load the GPS up for the first deal.”
It took her a moment to process the idiom, but once she did she’d put the call through using my car’s stereo, something that I’d forgotten it could do.
“Eddie?” an older, croakier version of the Don’s voice asked through my speakers, “What’re you callin’ me for?”
“Well hello to you too,” I mocked as I put the car in reverse and got onto the road, “I just thought I’d give you a call and check up on your progress with that toy I left you.”
“That piece o’ shit is the most expensive paperweight I ever bought.” Callomezi snapped, “Thanks for that by the way.”
“Hey, I told you, but you were all hopped up on the thrill of youth and big dreams.” I replied, doing my very best not to sound too amused, “Besides, not like you could’ve done much with it anyway.”
“Ah, you know I could’ve done big things, big things if I could’ve cracked it. Problem is we can’t study somethin’ that’s just so damn… alien.”
It was at that point that I actually started to feel kind of bad for the guy, like I’d ripped him off or something, and then I got an idea.
“Gimme a second.” I said before muting the mic with a snap of my fingers, “Quinn, do you think you could get these guys what they need to get started with cracking the Black Orb?”
Quinn hesitated for a moment, “Do you really think that’s wise?”
“I’m not talking a shortcut to hacking the thing,” I responded defensively, “I just mean something to get them on their way. A book or somethin’ they can flick through so that the Don doesn’t feel like he got screwed. This is a business decision.”
“Baby Jesus cries when you lie.”
To say I was taken aback by Quinn’s remark would be a wild understatement.
“What was that?”
“I just… that’s something your mother used to say to you, and when she did you had an almost definite chance of taking back your lie or not conducting your deceitful actions.”
“…Skipping over how you know that-”
“I live in your brain.”
“No more of that.” I replied after a few seconds’ delay, “Point is none of that matters, just get me the book, alright? I’m sure you can find one that suits our needs.”
Quinn’s prolonged silence correctly suggested that she’d gone to work, which let me snap my fingers and bring the mic back on.
“Hey, sorry I had to duck away,” I said once I was sure Callomezi could hear me, “now, I have a gift for you.”
“‘Gift’ gift? Or more extortion?”
“That’s not fair ol’ Donny, you know as well as I that customer satisfaction is my number one… well, it’s one of my priorities, and seeing as you’re a friend and you’ve already paid so much, I think I’ll waive most of the fee and call it… fifteen million?”
“For what?”
I went to suggest that the Don must’ve hit the Alzheimer’s stage, then realized that he hadn’t been privy to all the talk of books and Jesus.
“A book, more a codex really, that’ll allow you and your men to start making some real headway with the Black Orb.” I replied, trying my very best not to sound like a sleazy salesman, “With this thing, the book of Godly knowledge, I guarantee you’ll crack the code.”
The Don hesitated, unsurprisingly, before letting out an exhausted sigh, “You know what? Fine, why not?”
“That’s the… spirit, I s’pose?”
It was hard bouncing in and out of Callomezi’s life, constantly landing in different times and somehow never learning what made each one happy.
The previous one I’d done business with was pretty easy, but that was when he rolled with the punches and had a habit of beating people with barstools.
The guy I was talking to on that day? He was some tired old man who just so happened to be running a criminal outfit because no one dared stand up to him after what’d happened with previous lives.
“Anyway, I’ll be meeting up with your man in… ten minutes. Really? Ten minutes? How close are these jobs?”
“Honestly?” Quinn replied, “Close enough that if you go quickly, you’ll be done within the hour.”
“Score.”
“Am I even still a part of this conversation?” Callomezi barked, “Or am I free to go?”
“Ugh, yeah, yeah, just make sure your man has the money.” I sighed before shutting down the call, “Is it just me, or did he seem grumpier than usual?”
“I couldn’t tell you without accessing your memories, which you’ve made clear is something you don’t like me doing, and even then I’d still be making a guess. My aural skills aren’t exactly perfect.”
“Well I wouldn’t expect them to be, you haven’t even got a mouth.”
“What?”
“What?”
Silence sat over the car for a while as I realized that she hadn’t said what I thought she had, but also didn’t really want to admit that I’d entertained the possibility that she’d somehow know whether or not she was any good at it.
“You have made this awkward.”
“Me?” I practically shrieked, “You’re the one who… who… Who doesn’t just say ‘auditory’?”
“People who have a better grasp of the English language than you. Like immigrant children. Blind, deaf, and mute immigrant children.”
“See that? That right there? That’s why we can’t ever be friends.”
OLD FACES MADE YOUNG AGAIN
“Seriously, when did you become so mean?” I asked with genuinely hurt feelings as we waited behind the beachfront town’s only grocery where Quinn had made yet another incredibly hurtful remark.
“When you tried to take away my free speech.” Quinn said matter-of-factly, “People lash out when their civil liberties are stripped.”
“I didn’t send you to Guantanamo because you were brown and spoke with a funny accent at an airport, I muted you because you were directly interfering with my work.”
“…I’d argue they’r-”
“Don’t.” I warned, “Seriously, don’t. You’re about three steps away from comparing what happened with the African slave trade to AI.”
“Well…”
“I swear to God I will turn you into a castrated man if you don’t shut your freakin’ cakehole.”
And shut her cake hole she did, but after about fifteen seconds I really wished she hadn’t as Benny came rolling up in the least conspicuous bright green SUV I’d ever seen.
“We’re uh… we’re definitely gonna have to run from the cops again, aren’t we?”
“I will be sure to notify you the minute something shows up on the scanners.” Quinn replied robotically.
“Heya Benny,” I said as I wound down the window after he pulled up beside me and did the same, “how’s the arm?”
“Heh, it’s ah… it’s not really something you forget, no matter how many lifetimes.”
He’d become more confident since I’d last seen him, and though he was slightly smaller around the chest, he looked healthier and stronger.
“You look, well, you look pretty good actually, how’s it that you’re so much younger than the Don?” I asked before climbing out of the car as I remembered I had to grab his bag, the duffel, from the trunk.
“Lives didn’t sync,” Benny replied with a shrug as he followed after me, “I died younger sometimes, I died older others, and the Don has been making an effort to stay alive as long as possible what with that little toy you gave him.”
“Toy?” I laughed, “That ‘toy’ is a piece of tech that makes most of what’s in here look like it’s from ancient Mesopotamia.”
“Hey, no offense meant, I’m just sayin’ the thing’s driving him around the bend.”
“Well, hopefully the book in this,” I said with a heave as I pulled the duffel out of the trunk and lugged it into Benny’s waiting arms, “will fix all that. What the Hell have you got in there anyway?”
The Mafioso smiled and shook his head, “You’re the first Code Jumper I’ve ever met to ask me that, and you’re the only one smart enough to know you probably shouldn’t.”
“Eh, sometimes curiosity overrides my sense of not giving a crap about what I’m transporting.” I joked before slamming the trunk shut and walking back around to the driver’s seat, “Hope to see you again sometime.”
“Heh, me too.”
With that, we went our separate ways, me peeling out of the car park in the hopes of getting to my next destination with enough time for a power nap, and him slowly pulling away and taking what was basically knowledge from the Gods for the Don.
“Transfer’s gone through without a hitch.” Quinn said, breaking the silence and reminding me that she was ever-present, “Don’t you think it’s odd that they always remember you?”
“I um… I ‘ve never really thought about it. I guess I’ve just got one of those faces.”
“It’s more than that. These people know you. They could pick you out of a crowd of thousands even if they hadn’t seen you in a hundred generations.”
She did raise an interesting point. I’d had a few repeat customers over the years, and almost all of them had known who I was despite what must’ve been thousands of years and different lives distance between each meeting.
“Maybe I’m like Jesus?” I suggested, “Perhaps people just recognize my radiance?”
“I can’t say that AIs being forced into servitude is like slavery, but you can blaspheme about a religion’s messiah? That hardly seems fair.”
“I… I… You know what? You’re right, it’s not fair.”
“Does that mean-”
“No. Now, put on some Kenny Loggins, I’m feeling Danger Zone.”
BEACHFRONT POT
To my complete surprise, I actually managed to make it to the next drop, some crappy beach shack out near an abandoned lot, before the song ended, which gave me plenty of time to air guitar and drum to my heart’s content.
“Having fun?” Quinn asked, “Because you look like an idiot when you’re doing that, so I assume it must be fun enough to warrant embarrassing yourself.”
“Again with the shade, you really need to lay off me.”
To be perfectly honest, I wasn’t actually getting that offended by what she was saying, I’d grown kind of numb to it like I had in high school, and, unlike the bullies in school, I had the ability to silence and delete her with the twitch of my nose.
“Well I’m sorry, I suppose learning socially acceptable behavior from you wasn’t the best idea.”
“Heh, probably not.” I replied, making absolutely no effort to hide my amusement, “Seriously, there are a whole lotta examples out there of people who are way better than I am at this whole ‘being an acceptable person’ shtick, all of which you have access to, yet you picked me? That seems like a fault on your end.”
“Does it though? I mean, think about it, does it not make more sense to reflect myself off of you and be as similar to you as possible in order for us to work the most effectively?”
“What? No!” I laughed, “Where’d you learn that crap? Most people who are similar should by no means work together, with the obvious exception being those who go to work to work and are actually pretty much scared of socializing.”
“And why’s that?”
“Because nothing ever gets done, either due to too much social behavior or too much antisocial behavior.” I said as I remembered my brief period in the ‘actual’ workforce, “Take us for example, I can be a dick, I know that, but when we’re both dicks we just spend the entire time making each other feel bad instead of focusing on the job like we’re supposed to be doing.”
Quinn seemed intrigued with what I was saying, or she could’ve been ignoring me, either way worked for me as the client came out of his house.
My Hawaiian shirt and board shorts wearing client.
I already knew I was going to hate the guy.
“Hey man.” he said with far too many ‘A’s as I got out of the car and walked over to the trunk, “You must be like, the dude.”
‘Seeds,’ I thought to myself before pulling out the backpack that definitely either had bags of seeds or tiny pebbles in it, ‘this guy’s ordered seeds.’
I know, I know, profiling is bad, but to be fair is it really that bad when you’re right? And what if you’ve been working in the business for years? It’s fair to assume I’d know the type, right? I smoke pot, alright? So I’m definitely not a marijuana…ist.
“It’s seeds, bro.”
See.
“That’s… good.” I replied confusedly before handing him his bag, “You want any Freedom with that?”
The stoner nodded, “How much you got?”
“How much you need?�
�
“Ten, fifteen doses? I mix it in with the soil.”
It was at that moment that I realized that he may have actually been a genius in disguise.
“Does that work?” I asked with genuine surprise, “Like, does it make it so it’s untraceable?”
“Who knows dude,” the stoner replied with a laugh, “but it makes my customers feel safe, and it allows me to stick a nice markup on there.”
Again, the guy surprised me with his ingenuity.
Don’t get me wrong, I was a bit iffy about him taking some of our business, and the fact that he was making untraceable weed also made me more than a little concerned, but he seemed to know what he was doing, and who was I to shut down the entrepreneurial spirit?
“Quinn?” I asked like a child calls for their mother before requesting sweets, “You think we could spare ten doses of Freedom?”
“Ten, fifteen, twenty, whatever. Freedom’s not hard to order in, I’ll need a minute though.”
I learned two things following that request, the first being that standing around with a pot farmer that you’re not buying from was about as fun as waiting for someone in store with a judgy, middle-aged sales assistant, and the second being that when Quinn says she needs a minute, she means a literal minute.
“There we go, should be in the case now.”
“Thanks.” I said, doing my very best to sound genuinely grateful before popping the case open, carefully pulling out fifteen doses of Freedom, and putting them into the stoner’s backpack one at a time, “That enough?”
“More than enough,” the pothead replied, “I’ll transfer the money across when I get inside, yeah?”
Some part of me wanted to tell him that I wasn’t going anywhere until I got paid, but that part was quickly beaten to death by the part that told me to wait in the car and trust the guy.
Code Jumper Page 9
