by D. B. Goodin
“Hey, Charlie, how ya doing?”
“It’s been a while since we spoke, how are you holding up?”
Should I tell Charlie about what MuseFam is up to? Alice wondered—but she quickly made up her mind. It’s best to give that kind of news in person.
Alice gave Charlie a brief rundown of current events.
After a long pause, Charlie continued. “A lot has happened here. Roxy, Lawrence, and I tried to fend off city inspectors, but we failed. Lawrence got the call the inspectors were coming just before dawn.”
“Why? I didn’t think clubs needed inspecting.”
“The club has to undergo safety inspections at least once a year. We’ve had our inspections two months ago. This is different. The inspectors want to see if we have any equipment that could damage robot patrons, I guess.”
“You’ve got to be shitting me! That city ordinance was just voted on yesterday,” Alice said.
“The mayor signed off on it before the council voted. From what I hear, the mayor had help from a big-time law firm on Park Avenue.”
“I’m on my way to the club now,” Alice said.
“Is it safe for you? You mentioned something about a hacker.”
“It’s been two days with no stalker activity, so I think I’m okay for now. Besides, I want to get back to work.”
An hour later, Alice entered Roxy’s club. The place was packed; it looked like it was being remodeled. Exposed vent covers were removed or hanging from walls, and overhead lights were dangling from the ceiling. At least a dozen people in official-looking uniforms appeared to be taking the club apart. She spotted Charlie and tried waving at him. He didn’t notice her. Lawrence and Roxy seemed to be in heated conversations with inspectors.
“Charlie!” Alice yelled over the commotion.
He nodded, then navigated through the throng of workers. He was about to engage in conversation when an inspector stopped him and began talking. Alice tried moving closer, but she couldn’t hear the conversation. The man’s body language suggested he was in charge, and he was a lot older than the other inspectors. He was holding up something that looked like it belonged inside a wall; it was a plastic box with some wires stuffed inside of it.
Whatever that is, it looks fake! That didn’t come from the club! Alice fumed. Roxy is being set up.
“Doris,” Alice said quietly, “can you take a few pictures of these guys?”
“Already on it, my dear,” Doris said in a playful tone.
Once the man left Charlie, who was looking harried, Alice forced her way through the crowd of inspectors to talk to him.
“Any news?” Alice asked.
“No, just a lot of aggravation. These inspectors’ actions look more like harassment and intimidation than something official. They are damaging the property—I doubt that we can open tonight!” Charlie said.
“I will call Lindsey and sort this out!”
“What can she do?”
“Her husband can intervene . . . I hope he can.”
Alice called Lindsey.
“Did you forget something?” Lindsey chided when she picked up.
“Sorry for being difficult earlier, but I need your help,” Alice said. “It’s an emergency!”
“What’s the situation?” Lindsey said in a concerned tone.
“Roxy’s club is being overrun with at least a dozen inspectors. They look official, but something seems off.”
“How? Why do you say that?”
“Because they are ripping the place apart. Can you get Brian to help?”
“Did you get any names?”
“No, but I have some photos.”
Lindsey sighed. “Send over all the information you have—I will contact you as soon as I can.”
“Thanks, Lindsey!”
Alice hoped that Lindsey would have some answers soon.
Alice called the Goth Queen next; she picked up on the first ring.
“Alice! What can I do for you?” the Goth Queen asked.
“I wanted to see how your club was doing. Roxy’s club is being ripped apart by city inspectors.”
“Nothing of the sort here. Let me check with some other club owners—”
Alice’s phone started ringing again; it was Lindsey.
“Grace, let me call you back,” Alice said as she connected the other line.
“Brian is calling the mayor to confirm, but he says it’s too soon for that to be happening,” Lindsey explained.
“You’re a lifesaver, Lindsey!”
Alice heard a crash; part of the ceiling collapsed onto the stage. An inspector was there, covered in dust. He was on a ladder, pulling apart the ceiling with a large hammer. She noticed that he didn’t have a uniform. Alice confronted the man.
“What the hell you doing? This is vandalism!” Alice said.
“Are you the owner?” the man asked.
“No!”
“Then get out of my way!” the man said as he descended.
“This guy has some nerve,” Doris said.
He tried moving past Alice, but she blocked his path. The man grabbed her and pushed her to the ground.
“Doris, call the police!” Alice said.
She had to yell over the sounds of destruction around her. She heard something like “What’s your emergency?” before having her visor taken by another inspector.
“What the fuck? Give that back to me at once,” Alice demanded.
She tried grabbing the visor from the bogus inspector, but she couldn’t reach, because he was larger and taller than Alice. Then she noticed something odd about the man; he had a tattoo of a guitar, overlaid by a set of praying hands.
This looks familiar. It reminds me of Elias, Alice thought, putting the pieces together. And this “investigation” is something his followers would do.
Charlie had noticed the altercation, and he made his way over.
“What’s going on here?” he asked the inspector with the visor. “Why do you have her personal property?”
“Fine. Here,” the man said as he shoved the visor in Alice’s face.
She paused, as if a rattlesnake was in front of her.
“Take it, bitch!” the man said.
She reached out and took her visor from the man. Putting it on, she saw two missed calls: one from Lindsey, and another from Parker and Sutherland, Brian’s law firm. She listened to the message from Lindsey first.
“Alice, Brian needs to talk with you. Pick up when he rings.”
Too late for that.
She listened to Brian’s message.
“Alice, I don’t know who these people are, but they are not from the city—”
Panicking now, she didn’t listen to the rest of the message.
“Doris, were you able to reach the police?”
“No, but I think you should call Brian back—I know he’s not your favorite person, but he may be able to help.”
Alice ducked into an empty office and called Brian, closing the door behind her. To her surprise, he wanted to help.
“Alice, Lindsey sent me the information from your visor. I could enhance one image. The inspector’s official badge was visible in that photo. I sent the information to one of my best investigators, and he confirmed that it appears to be the work of a local organized crime family. They specialize in shakedowns. You should call the police,” Brian said.
Alice did as he asked. She waited; soon, sirens blared in the distance. She cracked the door open and saw that several of the inspectors were making a run for the nearest exit. It wasn’t long before all of them were gone.
The instant Alice stepped out of the room, Charlie spotted her.
“What happened?” Charlie asked, rushing up to her.
“I called the police on these bastards. I received confirmation they’re not real inspectors.”
“Yeah, they seemed to leave in a hurry.”
“My best friend is an attorney. His investigator is sorting this out.”
“G
ood, because I’m at my wit’s end.”
The police were still at Roxy’s well into the afternoon but didn’t seem to help the situation. Everyone except for Lawrence gave a statement; Lawrence seemed to have disappeared around the same time the fake inspectors did. Roxy sat next to Charlie at one of the ruined tables near the bar. She looked distraught.
“Didn’t you look at any official badges from anyone?” Alice said.
“They had official paperwork with the city seal,” Roxy said.
“Did you notice anything unusual about them?”
Both Roxy and Charlie shook their heads.
“One guy—the creep who took my visor—had a tattoo with a guitar with praying hands over it,” Alice said.
Roxy’s eyes widened.
“Does that mean anything to either of you?” Alice asked.
“Yes. When Elias pitched his first tent in Pasture’s Field, his right-hand man—Desmond, I believe—had a tattoo just as you described,” Roxy said.
“It sounds like you were there. Are you . . . one of Elias’s followers?” Alice asked.
Roxy seemed to be examining something interesting on the floor. “Not anymore. I met Elias after Lawrence and I got together. He was so energetic and full of passion. I didn’t agree with his sermons, but I was a part of his inner circle until Lucy was born. I didn’t want to raise Lucy in a tent. I got out, but it was difficult.
“We should give the police this information. Do you know Desmond’s last name?”
“I don’t,” Roxy said.
“Is there anything else I should know?” Alice asked.
“Look, if Desmond is involved, we should count ourselves lucky and move on.”
“Why are you afraid of him so much?”
“He’s a radical—and dangerous. He’s killed people before.”
“Then he belongs in jail,” Alice said.
Queenie’s Club Alphabet City
Thursday night 9:42 p.m.
Not long after the incident at Roxy’s, the Goth Queen called a meeting of all Purists in the tri-state region to strategize. Whenever Grace called a meeting—which was a rare occurrence—she enjoyed having it in an area that she controlled; thus, she hosted it at her club, which had a special place in the basement.
Barry and Lawrence brought extra guys to guard the doors. Alice entered; Barry gave her a smile and said, “The meeting is downstairs.”
Alice noticed that Barry was appraising her, as if she were a rare diamond. She shrugged him off and headed down the stairs.
The Goth Queen’s club is way bigger than it looks from the outside, Alice thought as she descended. Alice hadn’t realized it the last time she had been in the club, but the building had multiple levels, and the downstairs was even larger than the main floor.
At the bottom of the stairs, she realized she was in a large theater. There must be more than a hundred seats.
There were a few dozen people already gathered. She recognized several people, but she didn’t know all of their names.
Alice took a seat between Charlie and Mr. Wash. Then she caught glimpse of Nigel and Simon; they were selecting seats several rows behind her.
Several minutes later, the meeting started.
The Goth Queen was seated on the only piece of furniture on the stage; it looked like an old stool, which elevated her small stature. She held a small portable microphone.
“Please take your seats now,” the Goth Queen said.
Moments later, she began.
“By now you have heard that some all-human club owners have been threatened under the guise of the new city ordinance that was passed just yesterday, and in record time. The ordinance forces club owners to accept all synthetic beings, which includes robots, cyborgs, and other synthetics. I’ve had discussions with many of you today about the purity of our establishments. When the first all-human establishments were formed more than twenty-five years ago, it was obvious who the robots were. They looked like humans, but their skin felt rubbery to the touch. Now they look almost indistinguishable from us. We’ve developed methods of detection, however. The robots emit low frequencies that dogs and scanners can detect. Now we must open our doors to these robots or shut ourselves down. I feel that if we open our doors to these artificial beings, the purity of our human music culture will be undermined. The growing trend of cyber enhancements is getting out of control. People are being integrated with metal and circuitry. Some people are even getting their children enhanced.”
The Goth Queen paused for a moment, trying to get a read on the crowd, who seemed to get more restless by the second.
“At least one club owner has experienced an invasive intrusion,” she continued. “The club known as Roxy’s will remain closed until further notice. The authorities did nothing about it. We are on our own people!”
“We should fight back,” someone yelled.
“Right now, we don’t know who to fight. We believe that MuseFam might be the culprit, but that’s hearsay until evidence can be found,” the Goth Queen said.
“Let’s attack the robot symphony!” another person yelled.
“We will strike back, when the time is right and when we have evidence. We don’t want to act with the limited information we have. Therefore, I’m looking for volunteers to find as much information about the fake inspectors as possible. All we know is that a man named Desmond, a former lieutenant for Reverend Elias, was involved in the attack on Roxy’s.”
A curtain behind the Goth Queen parted, and a giant movie-theater-sized screen appeared. The lights dimmed, and an older picture of Desmond was on the screen.
“Elias is a radical who has threatened the Purists. I have it on good authority that he’s responsible for stopping the mass production of musical instruments. Several of the larger facilities that mass produced the instruments were destroyed years ago. These businesses never recovered. The second great depression didn’t help, either. Supposedly, he is in league with MuseFam.”
The Goth Queen and her brother would attack the venue, anyway. This is just a recruitment effort, Alice thought.
“The group assembled here today consists of the most committed Purists I know. What I’m about to suggest is questionable and could be considered illegal. If anyone has any issues with getting involved with such actions, there are plenty of other activities you can get involved with. Are you with me so far?”
A loud roar in the affirmative gave hope to the Goth Queen. Many jumped up and applauded. Alice looked around; she was surrounded by people that didn’t even know what the Goth Queen was proposing, and yet they applauded. Alice stood up as well.
“In a little more than a month, MuseFam will revitalize the CityWide Concert, which was once an all-human event,” the Goth Queen said. “That changed five years ago, when robots were introduced. Our Emissary shut the robots down then, and I’m confident that she will have a part in that now! This time, the damage to the robots will be permanent. By a show of hands, who is interested in taking down our synthetic overlords?”
Almost everyone’s hand raised. The Goth Queen smiled.
“Great. Most of you know Barry, so please coordinate with him. Time is short, so please see Barry about a job assignment tonight if possible. Questions?”
An older man with an unkempt beard stood at the end of the stage where a microphone stand was set up. Alice noticed that the man had a small dog at his feet. “Hmmm . . . How do you plan on disabling . . . hmmm . . . the robots?” he asked.
Scotty jumped on stage and took the microphone from the Goth Queen. “I’ve been developing an electromagnetic pulse device, which is also known as an E-Bomb. This will detonate right on top of MuseFam Hall, disabling all robots and anything else that is electronic.”
“Won’t the disruption affect the area around MuseFam Hall as well? I’m sure you don’t want to destroy visors and other electronics in Manhattan,” the man asked.
“I’ve engineered the E-Bomb myself, and MuseFam Hall will contain the bl
ast. Nothing else will be affected,” Scotty said.
As soon as the older man turned to leave, Nigel Watson grabbed the man’s arm.
“Help me restrain this impostor!” Nigel yelled.
Several people surrounded the old man. The old man with the scraggly beard started pulling Nigel’s hair, so Nigel punched him. The old man’s visor when flying, while his dog started howling before running away, making no moves to help his master. Moments later, the man’s hands were tied behind his back.
“Bring him up here at once, we need to sort this out,” Scotty said.
Nigel Watson and several younger men, including Simon, brought the man to Scotty. Nigel took the microphone from Scotty.
“This man is an imposter,” Nigel said. “I know this because I’ve been tracking his movements for several days. This man hacked the Emissary’s visor and sent goons to capture her. I’ve since tracked this man’s involvement to MuseFam.”
Lawrence entered the stage. “Does this man have a name?” he asked.
“His hacker name is Mister K—I’m still working on obtaining his actual identity,” Nigel said.
“Let us help you,” a large burly man said.
The burly man, accompanied by several others, approached the stage and surrounded Mister K.
“Don’t hurt him!” Alice yelled so they could hear her over the crowd.
She was too late. The burly man and several of his entourage started beating Mister K.
“No, stop,” Mister K pleaded. “I will tell you who I work for!”
“We know who you work for,” Nigel said.
Mister K screamed as more hits landed on him.
Alice got out of her seat, pushed her way through the crowd, and climbed onstage. Mister K was bloodied and unrecognizable. She hated the man, but she didn’t want him dead.
“Stop it!” Alice demanded as she tried pulling one man off Mister K.
In the heat of the moment, the burly man backhanded her, and Alice fell. Simon punched the burly man, but he also went down after one heavy blow.
“Stop this,” the Goth Queen yelled into the microphone.
