by D. B. Goodin
“I will not confirm or deny,” he eventually replied.
Alice wiped away tears that were forming on her face; her lips started to quiver. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d broken down like this.
Pull yourself together, Alice. Don’t give in . . . Never give in. These bastards aren’t worth it.
“Is there anything else you can tell me? Did the contact catch any names?”
Alice could hear some shuffling in the background.
“No, he didn’t provide any other information. I’m sorry.”
Alice felt exposed. She didn’t feel safe.
I will sort this out.
“I’m not coming in tonight. Wait . . . does Roxy know about all this?”
“Yes, she knows, and she is working on getting you into a safe place, so stay in touch. Don’t turn off your visor. Where are you now?”
“I’m somewhere safe,” Alice said as she scanned the room.
“Watch your back.”
Alice looked in the mirror of the small bathroom next to Mr. Watson’s break room. She washed her face again. Her eyes were puffy. It was if someone was going out of their way to make her life miserable.
It makes no sense that Simon would transfer my money into his account—that’s just stupid. Sure, he was a creep for going through my photos, but he didn’t seem like the stealing type. No—something doesn’t seem right. Simon is smart, and if he wanted to steal, as an elite hacker he would have covered any trace of it. Someone wanted me to blame Simon. Why?
Alice exited the bathroom and entered the break room. Nigel Watson was seated at a table, a bottle of something dark in his hands.
“I can only imagine what you are thinking, but I have a likely explanation,” Nigel said. Alice took a seat across from him. She put her hands over her face and rubbed her eyes. “Although the bank transfer identification code was valid, it is a forgery—an excellent forgery.”
“A forgery? Why would someone bother?”
“Smells like a setup to me,” Nigel said.
“That’s what I was thinking, it makes no sense. I’m a nobody, why would anyone care?”
“I don’t know, but the good news is that your account is unlocked now.”
“Yes, but it’s been drained. If you’re trying to cheer me up, it’s not working.”
Nigel stood up and started pacing back and forth as he continued to explain. “I have been trying to reach Simon to get his side of the story, but I’ve had little success. I know how this looks, but I know Simon. He’s not a bad kid.”
Alice sighed. “I think I have another problem. Something even more dire.”
Nigel gave Alice a sideways glance. “What kind of trouble?”
“When you were examining the bank information, I received a call from a colleague. He confirmed that someone has been investigating me,” Alice said.
“Maybe they have hired outside help. They’re the most likely culprit, though Simon has yet to confirm anything regarding your visor hack.”
Can this old man be trusted? Alice wondered briefly. Yes—there’s something about him I trust.
“Let me check on something,” Nigel said as he walked over to his workstation, where he began working on older computing interfaces, such as a keyboard and mouse.
“Wouldn’t it be faster just using a visor with an AI?” Alice asked.
“Probably, but you know I like the old ways,” Nigel said.
Alice buried her head in her hands. She rubbed at her eyes. She was so tired.
“Ahh, interesting,” Nigel said.
“Yeah? Now what?” Alice said.
“Besides having pissed off one of the most rich and powerful CEOs in the country, you have caught the attention of an elite hacker who intends to do you harm. The banking evidence is proof of that. All banks rely on an internal communications system before any money is transferred between banks. Our hacker leveraged that system. Once it was approved, other banking systems automatically transferred the money. Given this information, I think it’s safe to assume that Mr. Morris hired the hacker. This doesn’t bode well for Simon,” Nigel said.
“Don’t you mean me?”
“I do, but since Simon has a day job at MuseFam, our impromptu tracking actions may have put him in jeopardy. He didn’t want us to know, but he received a text from his boss around the time you caught him looking at certain . . . personal photos. Simon doesn’t go into the office that late unless there’s something amiss. I think Simon has been tasked with investigating a breach that we have caused and his boss suspects.”
“So, what are we going to do now?” Alice asked.
“Not much else we can do, but wait. You’re welcome to stay here,” Nigel said.
“Thanks, but I’ve been here long enough and I need to be getting back to my cat, Alfred.”
From the look in her eye, Nigel could tell Alice’s mind was working fast. “Wait—what are you planning to do?” he asked.
“I don’t know. I’ll think about it after I’ve had a good night’s sleep.”
“Well, I shouldn’t have to tell you to be careful. Remember, you can always stay here,” Nigel said.
Alice gave Nigel a fierce hug that lasted for several seconds.
“Sorry, I’m usually not like this,” Alice said as she wiped tears from her face. Nigel looked concerned.
“In the brief time since we met, I’ve grown fond of you,” he said. “Stay safe, kiddo.”
Alice nodded, then headed for the train station, head lowered.
3
Several hours later, after a lot of walking and thinking, Alice shuffled east toward Penn Station.
Why is this hacker after me? Also—why would someone I barely know—or anyone, for that matter—make an overt move and transfer money from my account? What does MuseFam have to gain? It makes no sense!
Alice felt like a pawn in a gigantic game of chess. The mysteries of the past couple of weeks were almost too much. She hadn’t felt this much stress since the hacking incident at the college. She felt a pang of guilt.
I never should have gotten Jamie involved in something so . . . stupid, she thought, recalling the time she and her boyfriend had hacked and shut down MuseFam’s bots at the last CityWide Concert. I’m positive that’s why he dumped me, even though he says it wasn’t. Why is Jamie back? Is he involved in any of this?
A chirping sound emanated from her visor. Several alerts had appeared in the brief time she had been walking; Charlie, Nigel, and Simon had all attempted to contact her. She ignored their calls, then played back the messages from Charlie first.
“Alice, someone dropped something by the club. You need to see this,” Charlie said.
She called him back.
“Alice, I can’t speak much on this open line, but get to the club—now,” Charlie said in an urgent voice.
“What’s the emergency?” Alice asked, panic rising again. “I’m trying to keep out of sight!”
“My associate Donato brought a package for the Emissary. Let’s say that the worst-case scenario has happened. Leaders from the other clubs are gathering at midnight—I suggest you come now. There is much to discuss.”
Charlie disconnected the line before Alice could respond. Alice checked her watch: 10:58 p.m.
It will take at least forty minutes to walk to Roxy’s.
After a couple failed attempts, she found the communications panel on her visor. Alice summoned an auto taxi.
Why didn’t I just use Doris to call the taxi? That would have been easier . . .
She felt her heart beating fast. She wasn’t thinking clearly.
“Alice, I’m detecting an increased heart rate with no physical activity—are you feeling okay?” Doris asked.
I’m not okay!
“I’m all right, Doris, just anxious about my banking situation.”
“I’m detecting stress in your vocal patterns. Would you like me to play some soothing music?”
“No, Doris, I’m okay.”<
br />
Moments later, the taxi stopped just inches from where Alice was standing on the curb.
“You rang?” a woman’s voice asked from the car.
Alice’s gaze followed the voice. She saw a figure in the driver’s seat.
“You must be Alice,” the woman said. “Hop in!”
Alice entered the taxi’s back seat from the passenger side. The interior was new and modern. Most taxis Alice had summoned in lower Manhattan were automated and self-driving—hence, “auto taxi”—and older than her. This particular taxi was operated by a human: another oddity. The taxi driver was dressed like she was on her way to a club. Her clothes were black, with several small sequins sown into the fabric. Her long blue hair complemented her outfit. She wore a mask that concealed the top part of her face; it looked like the Goth Queen’s veil, but it was transparent enough that Alice could see her eyes. No sooner than Alice had gotten in, the driver floored the vehicle. She started driving toward the West Side Highway.
“A little slower, please,” Alice said.
Alice was used to taxi drivers driving fast—even erratically—but this driver was beyond that; she was crazy. Alice noticed the driver’s license information on a digital screen on the dashboard. It read “Hello, my name is Sassy Diva. It is a pleasure to serve you this evening.”
“Sassy? Is that your name?” Alice asked.
“No! It’s Sissy, but this bitch of an AI likes changing it on me,” the driver said as she slammed her hand on the dashboard.
The display changed to “Hello, my name is Sissy Degas.” Alice thought she could hear a faint electronic chuckle.
Just when I thought things couldn’t get stranger, Alice thought.
“Look, traffic is a bitch now—let’s fly!” Sissy said.
Alice looked out her window; she saw the usual amount of New York City traffic for this time of night, but nothing too bad. Alice estimated that it would take ten minutes to travel to Roxy’s.
“It looks like normal New York City traffic to me,” Alice said.
The driver didn’t reply. Instead, the taxi made a strange sound, like its engines were being overtaxed, and then the vehicle lifted straight up into the sky. Alice grabbed onto the handle mounted above.
“Holy shit!” she said.
“First time in a flying taxi?” Sissy said, chuckling.
“Yes—I didn’t think taxis had that capability.”
“The city passed the ordinance just days ago. It’s a big deal for cabbies like me. Soon you will see a lot more.”
Alice was speechless. She stared out the window as the taxi banked between buildings, heading in the general direction of Roxy’s.
“I will have the Emissary to Roxy’s soon,” Sissy said.
Alice was about to respond, but then she realized that the woman was speaking to someone else. The driver, who had donned an oversized monocle when Alice wasn’t looking, guided the taxi through thick layers of fog that seemed to roll in from nowhere. Moments later, it started raining—hard. The vehicle descended.
This is no ordinary taxi—or taxi driver. Alice thought. This taxi must cost way more than any other taxi on the road. That enhanced AI monocle is the latest in visor technology.
“Do you mind if I take the streets the rest of the way?”
“Probably safer,” Alice said, but the rain drowned out her voice.
“What was that?” Sissy asked.
“Sure, the streets are fine!” Alice yelled.
The taxi descended back to the street and kept driving. After some close calls with some pedestrians fleeing the rain, the taxi dropped Alice in front of Roxy’s. Alice opened the door and got out.
“Where do I add the tip?” Alice asked, ducking her head back in the car.
“No charge for the Emissary.”
“How—?”
“Who do you think sent me?” Sissy said.
“I’m not in the mood for games—just tell me,” Alice demanded.
“Our mutual friend, Lawrence. Now beat it—you’re getting water in my taxi.” Alice closed the door. Sissy laughed as she sped away, leaving Alice in the rain.
Alice watched the taxi depart. It stopped at a nearby light. Then the taxi seemed to shudder and Alice watched as the taxi ascended. The whole experience was even stranger in the rain; the vehicle vanished into a black and misty sky.
Alice entered Roxy’s from her usual back alley door, which was closer to the back office. The club was busier than normal; the hallway leading up to the back office was packed with people she didn’t recognize. They appeared to be waiting for something. She slid her way between them. Alice was just about to enter Roxy’s office when she heard a familiar-sounding voice.
“Hey, gorgeous,” the male voice said.
Who is that?
She shot a glance toward the source of the voice. A tall man dressed in a pin-striped suit and fedora appeared in front of her. He smiled. Alice could see a mangled array of missing and chipped teeth. She could also smell his breath. Her stomach lurched; something tasted foul.
Keep it together, Alice, you don’t want to be sick!
As she appraised the man, a familiar feeling gnawed at her.
I recognize him . . . from the Goth Queen’s club!
“It’s me, Barry!” he said.
“Oh! That’s right,” Alice said, unsmiling.
“Are you ready for that dance you promised me?” Barry said.
Alice ignored his question, then asked, “What’s going on? Why is everyone lining up?”
“Don’t you know?” Barry said. “We are here from the Goth Queen’s club—and other all-human venues—to show our solidarity!”
“To whom?”
“The Emissary.”
How does he know about the Emissary? Alice wondered, her mind reeling. What the fuck is happening? I need answers! Where is Charlie?
Alice left Barry and continued to survey the situation. She noticed people were wearing just about every post-punk outfit imaginable. Although she liked avant-garde music, post-punk, and other forms of experimental music, she never cared for the outlandish fashions that spawned from them. The spiked hair, multiple piercings, tattoos, and cyberware implants never appealed to her.
“Alice! I need you over here,” Charlie said.
Where is he?
Alice looked, then saw Charlie near the bar, chatting with the Goth Queen—or “Queenie,” as she liked to be called—and a large muscular man with long dreadlocks who appeared to be in his mid-forties. Alice was good at judging people’s ages, but the man’s AR goggles were black, so she couldn’t be sure. Charlie introduced Alice as the Emissary; if the Goth Queen was surprised, she didn’t show it.
“It’s a pleasure to meet the Emissary,” the enormous man said as he took Alice’s hand.
Alice felt her hand tingle as she shook the man’s hand. She had a strange feeling, and then an image popped into her mind of several people dancing, half-naked in a mosh pit. The tingling sensation extended to other areas of her body.
Snap out of it!
“I’m sorry,” she said, “you seem to know me, but who are you?”
“My name is Stephen, but most people know me as Mr. Wash.”
I’ve heard this name. This guy is both attractive and creepy at the same time. No wonder Charlie doesn’t want him to perform. I feel like I might lose my self-control if I stay near him for too long.
“Good to meet you, Stephen,” Alice said as she tried to take her hand back.
His grip is like a vice!
Mr. Wash held her hand for several moments. He caressed her face with his other hand, then released his grip.
“You are a beautiful person, Alice Parsons,” Mr. Wash said.
In that moment, Alice’s fear and anxiety faded away. Alice no longer trusted her feelings; she feared what might happen if Stephen asked something of her.
What just happened? Alice thought.
“Quit fucking with her, Stephen,” the Goth Queen sai
d.
Mr. Wash laughed.
“It’s an excellent turnout. How many people are here?” Mr. Wash asked.
“I was expecting just the primary club owners, but there’s a lot more people here—several dozen, in fact,” Charlie said.
“Groovy,” Mr. Wash said.
Alice noticed that Mr. Wash’s AR goggles changed to a fiery red. She hadn’t noticed before, but she thought she saw smoke rising from Mr. Wash. Alice rubbed her eyes as a wave of exhaustion tried to gain a foothold. She looked at Mr. Wash again.
I’m tired, but I need to stay alert. Better not partake in any adult beverages tonight.
Alice looked toward the back office again. She saw Roxy and Lucy; they were scanning each person in line with some kind of device. Charlie followed her gaze.
“What are they doing?” Alice asked.
“Roxy is verifying the humanity of each Purist before we get started,” Charlie said.
“Where is this meeting taking place? There’s not much room here.”
“On stage! Roxy will want you to say a few words, if you’re up for it.”
Alice was dumbfounded; she hadn’t expected this.
“Okay, but I don’t know what to say.”
“Everyone here knows that you were responsible for the hacks on the robots at the CityWide Concert five years ago. You have the heart of a Purist,” Charlie said.
“How do they know about the hack?” Alice asked, trying not to sound angry.
Charlie seemed confused by the question, and then said, “Not sure if you remember, but when I first met you, Roxy mentioned something about detailed files on your . . . exploits. She sent that information to the other club owners when arranging this gathering,” Charlie said.
Mr. Wash put a large, reassuring hand on Alice’s shoulder. “You’ll be fine, kid.”
Alice jumped at Mr. Wash’s touch. She had no problem being on stage, but she needed time to prepare.
I didn’t even know what a Purist was before working here.
“Wait! I’m not ready to go on stage,” she confessed. “I’m a mess, not to mention exhausted.”
“We just need you to say a few words—rally the troops, so to speak,” the Goth Queen said.
