Chromed- Upgrade

by Richard Parry

Mason held up a hand, not looking at her. “Carter’s doing what she can. But I need you to think. Think hard about what you’re doing.” He faced her. “Do you know what ‘compromised’ means?”

  She looked at her hands, her voice small. “Yes. More than you know.”

  “Right,” said Mason. “We’re compromised. Think about a plan. I’ll get us off the grid.”

  “Where?”

  “You’ll see.” Mason slipped the van into gear. The machine complained, a grinding noise coming from its belly. He frowned. “Last time I was compromised, a man died, and two people were crippled.” He didn’t know whether he could face more of Haraway’s half-lies, half-uncertainty, so he keyed the privacy screen between the cabin and the driver’s compartment.

  Mason glimpsed Bonus Round’s face, her eyes wide as she stared between the two of them.

  Yeah, you got it right. Syndicate bullshit.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  “Comfortable?” Julian lit a cigarette as he observed his prisoner. The man was held to a chair by gleaming bands. He stared at Julian, eyes wide, but not with fear. No, this freak wasn’t scared. He was pissed off. Julian smiled, blowing smoke into the asshole’s face. Time to teach a little fear. They were at Reed’s Seattle HQ, in one of the processing rooms. The perfect place for terror.

  “I appreciate you can’t understand a word I’m saying,” he said. “We’re going to fix that right up. Square the problem away. Before, at The Hole? We can both forget it ever happened.”

  The man spoke, NO LINGUISTIC MATCH flashing on Julian’s overlay. Julian could see gaps in his teeth, the gums still bloody and raw. Julian yanked out quite a few before believing the man couldn’t understand him. Sometimes you had to break a few eggs.

  The tech beside him took a half-step forward, adjusting his collar. “Sir?”

  “Yes?” Julian glanced at the tech. Obviously hasn’t got used to piloting the remote yet. “You good to go or not?”

  “It’d be easier if I was here,” said the tech.

  “Trust me,” said Julian. “You really don’t want to be here. Remotes are the only way until we understand how it works.” He slapped the tech on the shoulder. “Besides, you’ll get used to it. It’s better than your real body.”

  The tech nodded. “Good to go. On your word.”

  “Consider the word given.” Julian gave a magnanimous wave of his cigarette. The tech moved to a console, pressing buttons. The chair the man was strapped to rotated and elongated, stretching him out to face the ground.

  A clamp over his forehead locked the asshole’s head in place. The inverted chair left a space at the back of the man’s skull and neck exposed. Julian took a last pull on the cigarette, then stubbed it out on his palm, flicking the butt away. Best not to have airborne contaminants during surgery.

  A surgical machine extended from the roof, the metal arm articulating out to hover over the man’s neck. The man spoke again, NO LINGUISTIC MATCH flashing on Julian’s overlay. He stiffened as a hypo touched the back of his neck.

  It was a simple contact anesthetic. Seemed reasonable.

  The man shouted, but the machine didn’t stop. A circular saw extended, the whir high. There was a deep buzz, then the slight smell of burning meat as the saw cut the back of the man’s skull open.

  He’s really yelling now. Julian glanced at the tech. “Is he in any pain?”

  The tech shrugged as the machine continued to cut. “Shouldn’t be. Anesthetic’s strong, and there’s very few pain nerves in the brain itself.”

  “That’s a shame,” said Julian.

  “I’m sorry?” said the tech.

  “Nothing,” said Julian, watching as the saw retracted. The back of the man’s skull was open, bone glistening wet and red under the lights. The surgical arm extended another mechanism, a chip held out. Laser light stabbed down, medical green mapping of the man’s exposed brainstem. The machine reached forward, holding the chip in place. The chip would self-guide the rest of its install into the brain itself. The arm spun again, inserting titanium screws to fix the chip against bone.

  Lasers stabbed out here and there, cauterizing. The man had stopped yelling, instead jerking against the restraints as nerves were burned away.

  “We don’t normally do these on adults, do we?” said Julian.

  “No,” said the tech. “Complications.”

  “Fixable?”

  “Usually,” said the tech. “It’s almost done. What do you want laid in first?”

  Julian smiled. “How about some English? This asshole and I still need to have a good, long, honest talk.”

  “Okay,” said the tech. “Anything else?”

  “See if you can put his teeth back in,” said Julian. “I might need to pull them back out. Ping my link when you’re done.”

  The man was still clamped to the table but had been turned upright. The back of his skull was painted with synthetic skin. Good as new.

  “How are you feeling?” Julian peered at him.

  “You will release me, or I will kill everyone you love.” The asshole sounded like the words came easy to him. Used to being in charge.

  Julian smiled, offering him a cigarette. The man didn’t budge. Julian shrugged, lighting his own. “Sounds serious.”

  “Release me now.” If looks could kill, this asshole would have put all of Seattle in the ground with his glare.

  “I don’t think so,” said Julian. “I’d like to talk to you about something.” The man stared at him, naked hate in his eyes. “I take it by your silence you’re happy for me to talk. Back there, at the sphere. You remember?”

  “Sphere?” The word was out of the man’s mouth before he could stop himself.

  Julian nodded. “Ball of light. About the size of a hotel lobby, give or take. Lightning and shit coming off it.” He pulled on his cigarette. “Know what I’m talking about?”

  “The gate,” said the man. He swallowed, like he’d remembered what fear felt like.

  That’s right, asshole. You’re saying things without wanting to. Welcome to your new link. “The gate?”

  “I…” The man struggled, swallowing what he was going to say.

  “It’s okay to fight it,” said Julian. “It helps us map your brain. It’ll work better in the future. So, this thing? It’s a gate, okay, I get that. What’s on the other side?”

  “Your destruction,” said the man. “An end to everything you know. We will come here and enslave you—”

  Julian cut him off with a wave of his cigarette. “Right, okay. How’s that going for you so far?” The man stayed silent. “That’s what I thought. I’m going to step out on a limb here and say this shit was about as surprising for you as it was for me.”

  The man pulled against his restraints, then relaxed. “We came through. After it.”

  “Yeah. With a girl and a boy. No guns.”

  “Guns.” The man turned the word around in his mouth. “I know the word, but I don’t know what it means.”

  “This is a gun.” Julian pulled out his sidearm. He held it up, releasing the safety. “It works like this.” He pointed the weapon at the man’s leg, still clamped to the chair, and pulled the trigger. The weapon barked, red spraying against the chair and the floor behind it. The man screamed, thrashing against his restraints. Julian holstered the sidearm. “That’s a gun. Now you know.”

  The man panted, his face gray and sweaty as blood leaked from his leg. “You will pay for that. I will burn the memory of it on your children’s minds. They will never be free of it.”

  “Right,” said Julian. “But you can’t do anything, can you?” He tapped the side of his head. “You need a meat body to work with.”

  The man spat at him. “What kind of man are you?”

  Julian smiled. “That’s the spirit. Mutual understanding. We can talk this through, find some common ground. Me? I’m … special.”

  “You’re not a man. But you look like a man.”

  “Yep,” said Julian. �
�Anatomically correct.”

  “No,” said the man. “In your … inside. There are…” He struggled with the words. “There are meat parts.”

  “A few,” said Julian. “Not enough to fill a coffee cup with. Not enough for you to make me bat-shit crazy like you did to my team.”

  “No,” agreed the man. “But enough for me to begin to see what you want.”

  Julian felt a small chill go up his spine. His sidearm came out of his holster as the lattice drew it smooth and fast, centered on the man’s forehead. “You can read my mind?”

  “Not really.” The man’s face lost more color, the pool of blood under the chair growing. “But I know what you are, now.”

  “Okay, asshole,” said Julian. “What am I?”

  “A slave,” said the man, his teeth pulling back in a bloody grin. “Like all the rest.”

  Julian looked down the sidearm at the man’s face, then holstered it. “You had me worried there for a second.”

  “What?” said the man.

  “We’re all slaves,” said Julian. “I’m happy with that as long as I’m on a steady percentage.”

  “Percentage,” said the man. “So much of this is unfamiliar. This world, this manner of speaking, of telling lies and truth at the same time. You surround yourselves with toys and ornamentation, but none of you know about true power.”

  “True power?” Julian frowned. “I’m not the one stapled to a chair.”

  “No, you’re a puppet. But I can give you what you want, Julian Oldham. I can give you everything.”

  Julian stared him. “How did you know my name?” He checked the link, trying to find a feedback loop, something he’d missed.

  The man smiled. “There’s enough space in a cup of coffee for many things. Your name. Your heart’s desire. It’s the same thing.”

  Julian looked at the man’s clamped hands and wrists. “Do you even know what a cup of coffee looks like?”

  “No,” said the man. “It’s as unfamiliar as a … percentage.”

  Julian smiled. “This thing you can do.” He pulled a fresh cigarette from the pack. His words were softened by the cigarette as he lit it. “Read minds. Shit like that.”

  The man looked at Julian. “Yes?”

  “What sort of technology is it?”

  “It’s not a technology.” The man chewed on the word. “Technology. Like the thing that lets me speak your words.”

  “Yeah, the link,” said Julian. “That’s tech.”

  “Real power isn’t a technology,” said the man.

  “Okay,” said Julian. “What is it?”

  “It’s the right to rule,” said the man. “It’s a gift from the spirits.”

  “Spirits.” Julian took another pull on his cigarette. “Fuck off.”

  “It’s what I came here for.”

  “Like some kind of spirit animal?” Julian wiggled his fingers in the air, the cigarette trailing smoke. “A wolf, or a coyote? You didn’t seem to need it back at The Hole.”

  “The what?”

  “The bar,” said Julian, his cigarette leaving a lazy trail in the air. “The gate. It was at a place called The Hole.”

  “Ah,” said the man. “It’s not an animal. The spirit and I are … joined. Each separate has power, but together…” He trailed off.

  “Together?” said Julian. “What happens when we get both of you together?”

  The man looked down at his bloody leg. “I don’t think you’ll get to find out. I think you intend to kill me here.”

  Julian laughed. “You aren’t from around here, are you? Why do you think we put the teeth back in your head?”

  “I’m not sure. The reason I would do it is so I could pull them back out again.”

  Julian nodded. “Do you know where you are?”

  “I am in a room, in a strange place, on another world,” said the man.

  “No,” said Julian. “I mean, where here is.”

  “No.”

  “Reed Interactive. Our business is dreams. Do you think we might work together?”

  “Trade is spineless work for the lower castes. Commerce is a game for the weak minded, the slaves, the bearers of burdens.”

  “Where you come from? Sure. But here? Business is the way your ass is getting out of that chair. The only way.”

  The man’s eyes narrowed. “You are proposing an alliance.”

  “If you like.” Julian looked to the ceiling. Best not to give anything away.

  “You know what I think?”

  “No.”

  “I think that when you learn how I do what I do, when you capture my spirit and tether it to this Earth, you will kill me.”

  “Not at all,” said Julian, meaning yes, of course.

  The man thought for a minute. “We may be able to do business. Will you do something for me?”

  “You’re not in much position to ask for favors.”

  “It’s a small thing.” He glanced at his bleeding leg. “Can your technology fix this?”

  “Well, shit,” said Julian. “Of course. It’ll do other things too.”

  “Like what?”

  “Let’s see if we can get you a cup of coffee, for a start.” Julian felt excited. They might get somewhere. “A point of reference is always good.”

  “Tell me, Julian Oldham,” said the man. “Does the rain usually make people see things in your world? That might be a good point of reference.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  “I know a place,” said Carter.

  “I was thinking downtown somewhere.” Mason slipped the van out of the station’s lot, easing into the traffic. “Get into a love hotel or something.” Rain lashed the windscreen, the amber wireframes standing out against the darkness.

  “A love hotel?”

  “Yeah, like the ones that do circus sex,” said Mason. “Room for four? No problem.”

  “There’s a small problem,” said Carter. “I don’t think you’ve thought it through. Like I said, I know a place.”

  “What problem?” said Mason. “Love hotels are off the grid.”

  “Not really,” she said. “I could find you there. Also, it’s not credible.”

  “What’s not credible?”

  “You, servicing three women in one night. Night after night.” Carter sighed. “You’re … well.”

  “I’m what?”

  “One night? Maybe,” she said. “Three nights? A week? A month? And one of them’s a teenage girl.”

  “You can buy anything,” said Mason. “What if I’m not a very nice guy? What if I like underage sex? It’s a good cover.”

  “Do you want to hear about the place I know about?” she said. “Anytime at all?”

  Mason drove through the rain, steering the van around traffic. “What do you mean, you could find me?”

  “I could find you,” said Carter. “I know where you are right now.”

  “Yeah, but the link,” said Mason. “Of course you know.”

  “Okay,” said Carter. “I know other things. I know where Harry is. He’s at the Federate, being asked to kill you.”

  Mason drove in silence for a few moments, easing to a stop at an intersection. Neon signs flickered, a red one promising HOT FOOD as it blinked on and off. This part of town still used the real rather than overlay ads. At least it’s in English. “That’s not great.”

  “No,” she said. “He’ll wipe the floor with you. Get into the corners with your face. Real thorough.”

  “Thanks,” said Mason. “I mean, it’s not great they got to him that fast.”

  “You’re not asking the right questions,” said Carter.

  “I’m not? What questions should I be asking?”

  “For a start, you should ask me which place I know of. A place you’ll be safe, and no one will find you.”

  “Other than that?” The intersection lamps cycled, their pure green LEDs turning the rain a different color.

  She sighed, the link bringing it through clear. “Th
ey’ve asked me to find you, Mason. They’ve asked me to find you and kill you.”

  “I know,” said Mason. “It’s why I didn’t ask.”

  “You … knew?”

  “Yes,” said Mason. “It’s what I’d do. First, they’ll investigate you. Run a few routines. Check your house. Maybe your friends.” He smiled, even though there wasn’t much to smile about. “Your dance class.”

  “I don’t dance.”

  “Then, once they’re sure you’re not a total loss like me, they’ll get you to prove it.”

  “I haven’t done this before,” she said. “I don’t know what to do.”

  “Yeah,” said Mason. “You do. You know exactly what to do.”

  “I’m not going to do that,” said Carter. Her words were brittle, like they might break apart at a touch. “They can’t make me.”

  “Oh, Carter.” He laughed in the real. “Carter, Carter, Carter. They won’t make you. Not at all.”

  “But you said—”

  “They don’t make you do anything,” he said. “If you don’t do it, you’ll just disappear. Maybe your family. Your friends too. It’ll be like you didn’t even exist. They’ll find your dance class and erase it like a bad mistake.”

  “Mistakes, by definition, are bad,” she said. “That was redundant.”

  Mason shrugged, tapping the steering wheel as he drove. “Not always. Not for everyone.”

  The link hissed for a few moments, the silence stretching between them. “Okay,” she said.

  “Okay,” said Mason. “You’ve got to turn me in. I understand. It’s just business.”

  More silence. “Mason?”

  “Yes, Carter.”

  “They watch me all the time.”

  “I know, Carter. I know.”

  “How?” she said. “How can you know?”

  “You ever wonder who makes people disappear? Who’s the fucker who knocks on your mother’s door? You ever wonder what kind of person can burn down a dance studio with everyone inside?” Mason took the next left, driving at random, the downtown traffic slow as treacle. Neon signs continued their assault on the rain’s veil, the van’s overlay fighting to clean up the picture against the visual noise.