“You’re the boss,” Kat said.
Chapter 36
“So why won’t you just tell me what this job is you were talking about?” Two-Step asked. He locked the storefront gate and looked at Jacob.
Jacob sighed. “I told you, it’s a dangerous job, and Gomez didn’t want you in on it.”
“He got killed on this job, didn’t he?”
“No, I told you that too. The SRS tried to force us to work for them, we didn’t want to, and one of them started shooting.”
“I’m not stupid, I know it had something to do with this job you’re not telling me about. And the mods you had me make to those flippers, I bet that’s part of it too.”
He’s right, he’s not stupid, Jacob thought. He would be an asset on the job, and without Gomez, they could use him.
“Look,” Two-Step said, “if Gomez got killed for this job, I want to help finish it. For him. And to help his mom.”
“I made a promise, Two-Step,” Jacob said with finality.
Two-Step sank, defeated. “Well, think about it. I know I can help.”
“I’ll let you know if I change my mind. Right now, I’ve got to meet Sandy.”
“Cool. I’ve got a date, anyway.”
“A date? Do I know the lucky girl?”
“Her name’s Haley. She sells jewelry.”
“The blonde with dreads? The Steamer girl?”
“That’s her. We’re going to go to the church and watch Wild at Heart.”
“Is she a member?”
“No, but we thought it would be fun. Nic Cage and David Lynch. It doesn’t get better than that.”
“Don’t have too much fun, you work in the morning.”
The Galleria was busy for a weeknight. A group of Steamers tended the garden, pulling multicolored carrots and beets. A few teenagers used a drone to rig a zip line from the third floor to the food court while an old man with implanted glasses lectured them on physics and how the zip line wouldn't work because the angle was too steep. A group of code freaks sat staring at their shoes and taking turns giggling. A couple who looked too young to vote handed out flyers for an independent running for president. One of them gave Jacob a flyer. “No corporate sponsors and our first transhuman candidate,” she said when she handed it to him. No chance in hell of winning, Jacob wanted to say, but said, “Thanks,” instead.
He stepped outside and was greeted by cold rain. Not enough to break a drought, he thought, but enough to get me soaked. He decided to wait for the rain to let up before he walked to DeSoto’s. It would give him some time to think. They needed a new plan, and so far he wasn’t sure how to go forward. The worst part was that he knew Two-Step had it right. He could help, and they needed his help, but he made a promise to Gomez when they started planning this job. He also made a promise to his second mom. He weighed the promises. Keeping one meant he would have to break the other unless he could come up with a plan that worked without Two-Step’s help. Throughout the day he ran through different scenarios in his head and none worked without another person on the team. At this point, only one more might not be enough. He tried to contact Slade, Gomez’s friend in security, but he hadn’t responded yet and there was the possibility he wouldn’t help them now that Gomez was dead. He made it clear he didn’t want to help when Gomez was alive and only agreed to help out of an obligation to Gomez. Now, with Gomez dead, Slade had an out Jacob was sure he would use.
The rain let up and Jacob ran across the street, jumping over puddles reflecting the neon sign of the club, trying to keep his boots as dry as possible. He failed miserably and came down on the edge of a river of runoff rushing through the middle of the street. He walked into DeSoto’s dripping and cursing.
Sandy, Kat, and Xia waited for him in the back bar. “You’re late,” Sandy said as he sat down.
“I had to wait for the rain to let up a bit.”
“You should get an umbrella. You do live in Houston,” Xia said.
“I’ll look into that. I don’t think one would have helped my boots, though.”
“I guess not.”
“Please tell me the three of you came up with a foolproof plan while I was getting soaked,” Jacob said.
“I wish we had,” Kat said. “Everything we come up with leads to the same place.”
“We need another person,” Jacob finished for her.
She nodded.
“What about Two-Step?” Xia asked. “He helped with that hack.”
“I told Gomez we would keep him out of this.”
“Well, I think he would understand, at this point. If he was here,” Kat said.
“I’m sure he would, but at least we would talk about it and work it out together,” Jacob said.
“Why don’t we run through some ideas and see if all of us together can come up with something,” Sandy said.
Jacob knew they wouldn’t come to any different conclusions, but they had to try. Maybe it was misguided loyalty to a dead friend, or maybe it was guilt, but he wanted them to try.
“All right. If we can’t find a plan we don’t think will work without him, I’ll bring him in. But only after we exhaust all other ideas.”
An hour later, they felt like they had exhausted their ideas and had started going in circles.
“Everyone agrees?” Jacob asked.
“I don’t think we have a choice,” Kat said.
Jacob sighed. “I’ll talk to him tomorrow.”
Later, after Kat and Xia left, Sandy brought Jacob a drink.
“He would appreciate how hard you tried,” she said.
“What do you mean?”
“Gomez. He would have appreciated how hard you tried to keep Two-Step out of this. You don’t have to feel guilty about it. I think he would understand.”
“I guess you’re right. It doesn’t change how I feel, but you’re right,” Jacob said.
“Two-Step is good. He thought of using flippers to slow down networks. He was great against the Aryan Brotherhood. He’s a smart kid.”
“It’s the kid part that worries me. But I guess he isn’t really a kid. Hell, he’s already seen more than most people twice his age do. We just have to come up with a great plan. I don’t want him or anyone else getting hurt.”
Sandy took a drink, looking at him as she did. “I was wondering,” she said.
“What?”
“Do you want to come back to my place? Maybe watch a couple of movies?”
“Where did this come from?” he asked.
“I don’t know. You’ve been different lately. But does it matter?”
“I guess not.”
She stood and held out her hand.
Jacob looked up and smiled, then took her hand and let her lead him out of the club.
Chapter 37
Clearly feeling the effects of the night before, Two-Step moved around the store like he was walking underwater. He was even five minutes late for his shift, a first for him.
“I told you not to have too much fun,” Jacob said, making sure to project his voice.
Two-Step winced. “Not too loud.”
“You know I can flick you a hangover cure?”
Two-Step shook his head slightly before stopping and rubbing his forehead. “Even that hurts.”
“You sure you don’t want the code?”
Two-Step straightened cassette tapes on the shelf. “You know I’ve never done code. I don’t even know if my chip could take it, it’s so outdated. I’m drinking some hangover cure tea Haley gave me. I don’t think it's helping much, though.”
“I still don’t see how doing code is worse than linking to the net,” Jacob said.
“I don’t know, it just is. It’s like its reprogramming your brain. It just creeps me out, I guess.”
Jacob shook his head. “You’re a strange bird,” he said.
“Well, at least I don’t believe everything my parents do. They think technology will be the end of humans. And don’t get them started on transhumans
uploading to the cloud. That’s part of why I ran away.”
Two-Step’s parents were LTLs, Low-Tech Luddites, and he grew up in a community with a 1990s level of technology. It was one reason he knew so much about the old computers and media they sold at the store. It also explained his chip. The LTL movement was an extension of homesteaders and preppers that grew as technology advanced. They resisted taking part in the technological singularity and what they saw as the horrors in a possible post-humanity society. When the singularity did not produce the world the LTL feared, they became more radical, drawing further away from society and insisting the horrors of a post-human world were still coming. Subdermal chips were a step in that direction. When Congress, with the urging of the pharma-tech corporations, passed a law requiring mandatory chip implants at birth, the LTLs fought back. At first with protest, then in court. Government lawyers argued refusing a subdermal chip was akin to refusing HIV or coronavirus vaccines. Finally, the LTL lost in the Supreme Court and government officials went to their communities around the country, implanting chips in members by force. The only recourse the LTL had was to not update their original chip.
Jacob knew this, and he knew it would be helpful.
“I wanted to talk to you about that,” he said.
“What, running away?”
“No, your chip. It’s the same one you had implanted when you were born?”
“Yeah. At least I have one. I had a friend back home who was an undocumented birth. He never had a chip implanted.”
“An undocumented birth?” Jacob asked with surprise in his voice. “That’s like not existing.” He heard there might be undocumented births, but most people thought they were a net myth.
“Well, they exist. And there are more of them than you think.”
“I didn’t think there were any, so if you know of one, that’s more. Anyway, about your chip. I think it could be helpful.”
“How? In what way?”
Jacob hesitated. Despite the conversation the night before, he still had reservations about bringing Two-Step into the plan. “I think it could be helpful in the job we were talking about in the car the other day.”
Two-Step stopped. “The one you wouldn’t tell me about?”
Jacob nodded.
Even the hangover couldn’t dampen Two-Step’s smile. “Awesome. What’s the job? And how can my old chip help?”
Jacob made sure no one was in the store. “Maybe we should go in the back for this.”
When Jacob finished explaining the job, Two-Step sat, holding his tea with his mouth slightly open in disbelief.
“Are you serious? That’s why we did that hack on the Brotherhood?”
“It is. But with Gomez gone, we have to come up with a different plan. Gomez wanted to protect you and keep you out of it, but we need your help.”
“And my old chip can help?”
“I’ve been working on a plan, and your old chip is a pretty important part of it.”
“I’m in.”
“You don’t even know the plan.”
“It doesn’t matter, I want to do it. For Gomez, and his mom. I know he would do it for me. When do we do it?”
“We’ve got to iron out some details and a timetable, but soon. The launch for the chips is getting closer.”
Two-Step nodded and drank some tea. “This tastes terrible,” he said.
Jacob laughed. “I’m sure I can program some code that will work with your chip.”
Two-Step looked into the cup of tea. He walked over to the sink and dumped it. “Anything to help get rid of this headache.”
It didn’t take Jacob long to modify some code to work with Two-Step’s chip. When he flicked the code, a visible relief came over Two-Step and the tension in his shoulders melted away.
“I don’t know why my parents are so afraid of technology,” he said, stretching.
“Change is hard to deal with sometimes.”
“I better get back to work,” Two-Step said.
“Can you handle the place alone for a bit? I’ve got something to do.”
“No problem.”
Chapter 38
Jacob could tell by the look on his face, Johnson would have preferred to meet in his armored sedan, but Jacob wanted home-field advantage for once. He also liked the fact that while they were sitting in Commie Cup, Johnson would not be able to record their conversation. Jacob wouldn’t say Johnson was nervous, just uncomfortable, out of his controlled element. Jacob liked it.
“I am sorry about Mr. Gomez. The hospital ensured me that they did everything in their power to save him,” Johnson said.
“I know. I want to thank you for helping.”
“Of course. However, and I hate to be blunt and to the point, but have you considered how to go forward with the project?”
Jacob knew what Johnson’s attitude would be, but he still had to restrain himself. “We have. We are working on a new plan.”
“I assume it involves your employee, Two-Step?”
“He’s not my employee, but it does. That brings up something I want to know.”
“I will do my best to answer your questions.”
“Just how do you know so much about me? About all of us?”
Johnson placed his hands on the edge of the table. “Information is my job, Mr. Quince. It is what I do. I am sure you understand when I tell you that I can not divulge my means of gathering my information.”
“A magician never reveals his tricks.”
“Precisely.”
“What about that day at the parking garage? Was that your men who came to our rescue? You never gave me a clear answer at the hospital.”
“I thought you might want to revisit that subject.” Johnson paused. “I believe they work for the NirvanaWare Corporation. I suspect you have come to that conclusion yourself. It is my understanding they were retaliating for a hijacking involving some of their technology.”
Jacob grunted. “You didn’t answer my question.”
“But I did. They were not, how did you put it, my ‘men.’ They work for NirvanaWare.”
“And you? Do you work for NirvanaWare?”
“Mr. Quince, as I have said...”
Jacob cut him off. “Your employer is unimportant. I get it. I think I have my answer either way.”
Johnson leaned back. “Let me give you an analogy. You have performed several jobs for the SRS, correct?”
“Yes.”
“Does it matter to you who may have hired the SRS in any of those cases?”
“It’s the SRS.”
“That is true, on the surface, but is it possible someone hired them for the job?”
Jacob nodded.
“Were you ever concerned with who that might be?”
“No. But if I thought someone hired them for a job I was taking part in, I would want to know who it was. I just like to know who I’m working for.”
“I understand. In this case, you are essentially working for me.”
Johnson sat with an air of smugness as if he were trying to provoke Jacob.
He didn’t take the bait and said, “Maybe. I’m doing this job for you, and when it’s done, we’re done.”
Johnson pushed his chair out and stood. “Perhaps. Who knows what the future holds, Mr. Quince.”
Jacob stared up at him.
“You will keep me informed on your progress,” Johnson said.
“I think you’ll find out anyway, but, as you like to say, of course.”
Chapter 39
The walls in Mr. Craig’s waiting room no longer played nature videos. Instead, a constant stream of rally car crashes occupied the floor to ceiling screens, making the cars appear life-size as they raced across the walls. The effect was disorienting, much more so than the images of animal combat. Even on the wall screens, the animals appeared distant, there was a noticeable space between the viewer and the hunt. But the cars, often coming within inches of the camera recording them, gave Johnson an urge to move o
ut of the way. As he sat waiting, he found himself flinching more than once as a car entered the edge of his vision, tumbling end over end, hitting a tree, or careening off the road. It was unnerving, but he would never admit this.
However, by the time Mr. Craig was ready to see him, Johnson had grown used to it and found himself enjoying it. When he entered the office, Evgeny Tal sat in one of the chairs in front of Mr. Craig’s desk. Seeing the Russian caused Johnson to hesitate slightly as he shut the door.
“Johnson, I believe you know Mr. Tal,” Mr. Craig said with a sweeping gesture in Evgeny’s direction.
Evgeny stood, extending his hand. Johnson shook his hand, giving a slight smile, maintaining eye contact.
“Hello again,” Evgeny said.
“Hello.”
“Please, be seated, gentleman. We have much to discuss.” Mr. Craig turned to Johnson. “Did I detect the slightest bit of surprise on your face Johnson?”
“The slightest bit,” Johnson said, waiting for Evgeny to sit before he did.
Mr. Craig seemed pleased. “It is a special day. You see Mr. Tal, Johnson is the best in the business of gathering information and predicting outcomes. If you want to know something that has happened, or that may happen, Johnson is the man to call. He knew Mr. Li would not be open to further our relationship, and he recommended you be given the opportunity. Regrettably, I made the mistake of listening to a team of probability programmers who insisted their AI had crunched the numbers flawlessly before I approached Johnson. By then, Mr. Li let his intentions be known. Thankfully, it worked out in the end. Would you agree?”
“Yes,” Evgeny said.
“Excellent. Now, I hate to do business with an empty glass. Was it too presumptuous of me to have had vodka delivered? I rarely drink it myself.”
“Vodka would be fine,” Evgeny said. He seemed unsure if he should smile or be insulted. He smiled.
“Johnson is a whiskey man. As am I,” Mr. Craig said, going to his wet bar and fixing the drinks. He gestured at the wet bar. “You know, my wife says I should do away with this old bar. She thinks I should modernize and get one of the new automated models. Every drink is measured to precise amounts, and the AI program monitors how intoxicated you are and adjusts the alcohol level in the drinks it serves you. I tried explaining to her there is something special about feeling the weight of the bottle in your hand as you pour a drink, the satisfaction of getting a mixed drink just so. She does not understand. She just wants convenience. Much like my team of probability programmers. Well, I am rambling. Shall we get to the business at hand?”
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