by Cody Sisco
A few of the tour group members laughed politely while the rest gawked at the machines and took pictures.
The docent patted the nearest machine. “Each RTX-sequencer was dedicated to a single chromosome. This institute was responsible for half of the raw sequencing data; the other half came from a consortium of universities throughout the New England Commonwealth, the Greater Ohio Constitutional League, and the Southeastern Confederacy. We also performed data verification for the HGI as a whole. Some of you might recall the day of the announcement, when President—”
“Are these still running?” Victor asked.
A slight frown tugged at the docent’s mouth and then vanished. She said, “Not all of them. Miniaturization has come a long way in the past fifteen years. The sequencing and storage capability to recreate the work done in this room could fit within a small car today. We do utilize some of the machines from time to time for niche projects.”
“And the libraries? The complete set—they’re here too?”
“Yes, at the Institute we provide the HGI libraries, current and historical, to other research institutions to assist them in their genomic analyses.” She cocked her head, as if eager to hear another question, but he could tell she wanted to move on. Now that he knew that the libraries were, in fact, here, he was eager for her to do so too.
“Thank you,” Victor mumbled.
“Let’s take a look inside one of the sequencers,” the docent said, and led the group further into the room.
Victor remained behind while Elena went ahead. She glanced back at him, and he waved her on.
He slipped behind one of the machines, listening for a hum, any sign that it was turned on and connected to the Institute’s network. It was silent. The case hanging around his neck thumped against his chest, and he fought to remain calm as he fumbled with it and removed the data leech that Ozie had given him.
The next row over, Victor found a gently whirring machine. Through a grate on its side, he saw reflections of flashing diodes. Peering around the machine, Victor found a data cable, crouched, and affixed the data leech. It would ping the data traffic flowing through the cable, testing to see if it could access the genome libraries and find a path to the Mesh. In addition, a computer virus in the leech would seek out surveillance vid feeds at the Institute and disrupt them. Seconds ticked by. Victor heard the docent continuing her explanations of the HGI and the accelerated development of research and medicines that the project made possible.
The light on the data leech turned red. He removed the device and tried another. Fifteen seconds later, another red light. He moved to another machine. Red light, no connection.
Footsteps clicked behind him. Victor whirled.
Elena beckoned him. “I’ve run out of smart questions for her, and we’re moving on,” she said.
“I haven’t found it yet.” Victor removed the data leech and darted to the next machine. Its cables snaked under a floor panel, which he wedged open and tossed aside. He put the clamp around a thick purple cable. “We can’t leave without connecting this.”
Elena looked up at the ceiling. “What if they have vidfeeds?”
“Ozie’s got that taken care of. The data leech is a cyber sabotage smart bomb. They won’t find it unless they physically stumble over the device.”
A voice rang out from behind a rack of machines. “Excuse me!”
A security guard rounded the corner and eyed them suspiciously. He had obsidian-black skin, broad shoulders, and no hint of softness in his voice. “What are you doing in here?” he asked.
Victor froze where he was crouching next to the data leech. They’d been caught. He could look forward to years in jail and, after that, the rest of his life in a facility.
Elena hauled Victor to his feet. “Oh, perfect!” she squealed. “We were trying to get a picture together. Do you mind?” She took the imager from Victor neck and handed it to the guard. He looked dubiously at the device.
Victor shifted so that his foot hid the data leech.
“Just press that contact,” Elena instructed. “Give us a three count, please.” She squeezed Victor’s middle and kissed his cheek. His chest flushed; it felt like drinking warm cider.
The guard was watching them closely. Victor blinked, petrified that the guard wasn’t buying it.
“Thank you, sir,” Elena said.
The guard grunted. “Not my idea of a romantic date, but I don’t claim to understand kids these days.” He held up the imager. “One, two, three.” The guard pressed the contact. “I don’t think anything happened.”
Elena stepped forward and grabbed the imager from his hands. “No, that worked just fine. It’s silent, so I don’t look like a tourist.” She made the faux-shutter sounds that most imagers used these days.
Victor regained the use of his voice. “Did you see which way the tour group went?”
The guard wore the barest smirk on his face. “You must have missed them while you were smooching. Out the door, and to your left.” He turned and pointed.
Victor glanced down. The light had turned green. “Let’s get some lunch,” he said to Elena with bluster and walked ahead.
They rushed to rejoin the group while the guard followed. Elena made a show of fixing her hair and checking her makeup in a glass display cube holding an ancient microscope. Victor rubbed his lips. None of the group seemed to notice their performance, though the docent narrowed her eyes for a brief moment. The guard smiled, turned, and left.
“Good work,” Victor said to Elena. “I couldn’t get a word out.”
“You got the job done. That’s what counts.” She squeezed his arm. “We make a good team.”
When the tour group arrived at the institute’s restaurant, Victor and Elena asked to be pointed toward the exit.
“Won’t you be joining us for lunch?” the docent asked.
Elena piped up first, “I don’t eat doctored meat.”
The docent’s eyes widened, and her mouth gaped like a catfish. She straightened her shoulders and said, “Our produce is safe and delicious, I assure you.”
“I’m sure it is,” Victor said. “It’s just that we’re late for—”
“For a lunch date, where we’ll eat all natural food,” Elena said, tugging at his shirt. “I need to get my stunstick back, and we’ll go.”
The docent eyed them suspiciously, but she called a security guard who returned Elena’s stunstick and escorted them to the front door.
They wandered into the sunshine.
“All set?” she asked.
Victor smiled. “I think this is actually going to work.”
“Great, let’s get a room,” Elena said. “I need a shower before we head back.”
“I like it here. It’s civilized. We can stay overnight.”
Victor summoned his car, and soon it arrived at the drop-off/pick-up turnout. They climbed inside, and he programmed the destination, a hotel in the Summer zone. The car drove for a few minutes and stopped in front of a twenty-story building that curved away from them. A huge cantilevered awning hanging above them was strung with lightstrips like paper streamers. They got out and placed their bags on an autoporter, a low hexagonal dolly, which followed them inside.
The hotel lobby had smooth, polished, cream-colored laminate flooring that was surprisingly unslippery. Large potted ferns bordered a walkway to the registration area, where a young man stood behind an oiled rosewood desk.
Victor reached into his pocket to pull out his Handy 1000, but Elena placed a hand on his arm.
“In case they’re following you,” she whispered, “let’s put this under a fake name.”
“I’m sure Ozie will handle it.”
“Let’s not press our luck.” Elena elbowed him out of the way.
The receptionist smiled and asked if they would like two separate beds. Victor looked to Elena. “Adjoining rooms,” Elena said.
The receptionist replied, “Don’t miss the history exhibit on the origins of Las
Vegas just past the elevators to your left.”
On the sixteenth floor, they found their rooms, showered separately, and met in Victor’s room.
“Can you show me more of the dreambook?” Elena asked.
“Why?”
“I finally got Ozie to talk before we left. I understand the conspiracy about diagnosing MRS, but I don’t understand how your dreams fit into this. Ozie said he doesn’t remember his dreams. And recurring dreams are apparently not a common symptom. Plus, yours might be coming true.”
Bile rose in Victor’s stomach. “They don’t. It’s just coincidental.”
“You told me that these were true, prescient dreams. You had a gut feeling about your granfa, and you were right about that. That means it’s not just your dreams. Something’s up with your brain. Let me help you figure it out.”
Reluctantly, Victor withdrew the leather-bound journal from his bag and handed it to her. “They started as early as I can remember,” he said, “but I only began writing them down when I was eleven, after the family reunion in New Venice.”
“I remember that,” Elena said. “It was my first time in the Louisiana Territories. I always thought it was strange for my family to join your family’s party.”
Victor shrugged. “I think Granfa needed to show how buddy-buddy he was with a union official. He wanted the union’s support.”
Elena opened the book. Victor headed for the door.
Elena looked up and jumped to her feet. She rushed after him. “Where are you going?”
He shrugged. “I’m going to walk around for a while. Find a Freshly or whichever juice chain they have here.”
“You should stay here.”
“What? You don’t think it’s safe?” Victor closed his eyes and sighed. That was only partly the reason. He knew why she was really objecting. She was afraid he would get in trouble again. “I’m doing fine.”
She grimaced. “I don’t think you should chance it.”
“You’re being paranoid.”
“I’ll come with you.”
“No offense, but I need a break. We’ve been in that car for hours, and I’m . . .” He bit back a laugh. “I’m a big fucking tuning fork, and I just need some silence, a reset.”
Elena bit her lip. “Don’t leave the hotel. Anyone could grab you on the street.”
“Broken Mirrors aren’t a thing here, remember? I can hide in plain sight.” Victor pointed at the dreambook. “There’s nothing in there.”
“Let me be the judge.”
He rode the elevator to the bottom floor. The hotel lobby was quiet, even though at least half a dozen people moved through its cavernous expanse. Victor wandered into a long gallery containing historical diorama and mineralogical exhibits depicting Las Vegas’s growth from a small frontier settlement to a juggernaut of mining, finance, and industry during the early part of the twentieth century. According to the exhibit, the city was now the proudly laissez-faire center of advanced materials research and production in the Arid Lands.
Victor reached the end of the exhibit and pinged Ozie, who answered right away.
“It’s done,” Victor said.
“Of course it is,” Ozie said. “I got the notification in my feed as soon as you placed the data leech. I’ve already started the transfer.” There was a pause. “Are you alone?”
Victor looked around. A huge drill bit hung from a metal scaffold. It was large enough that, if it were hollow, three adults could climb inside. The plaque on the wall next to it said it was the first to use an ultra-strong compressed diamond lattice coating that allowed tunneling and extraction to extreme depths.
“Yes, I’m alone.”
“Well, I don’t want to get your anxiety level up, seeing as you might—”
“I’m fine, Ozie. Just tell me what it is. I’m not going to crack.”
“Those people following you showed up here not long after you left.”
Victor steadied himself against the drill bit. “What happened?”
“It’s not like we’re defenseless. I knew when they crossed the border, and vidcams spotted them a mile from the café. I sent a few of our armored cars to head them off. They didn’t stick around long. They headed down the road like scared dogs. Thing is, how did they know where to find you?”
“I don’t know.” Victor wiped his forehead.
“I’m rechecking my systems, but it’s possible they’ve been breached. There’s something else.” Ozie had been blustery before, but now he sounded worried. “We had another guy creeping around here. He made me tell him everything and—I’m sorry, Victor, but he got away with Jefferson’s tongue.”
“Shocks. What did he look like?”
“Dark hair, muscles, might have been Native American.”
“That was Tosh,” Victor said. “He said he’d find me. I guess I’ve got to worry about him now too.”
“Your job there is done. You should get back here. But in case they’re headed your way—”
“When were they there?”
“They could be in Vegas by now, if they knew to look for you there. You might want to take the long way back, so you don't meet them on the road. Leave now.”
Victor used the Handy 1000 to find an alternate route back, and it calculated the travel time. “That’s a six-hour detour!”
Movement in the lobby caught Victor’s attention. Two figures rushed in, headed toward the reception desk. The man behind the desk blinked and took a step back. Then he grabbed the phone, speaking urgently.
“I’ll call you back,” Victor said and terminated the feed with Ozie.
Victor squinted at the figures, a man and a woman, uncertain if he’d seen them before. Could the people following him have found him so quickly? He hid behind the drill bit. His breath came in quick little sips. He would wait to return to his room until they moved on. He had to warn Elena.
An elevator chimed. Victor peeked out, feeling a tightness in his throat.
Elena emerged from the elevator and approached the reception desk.
Victor froze.
The man and woman turned and spoke to her.
Victor’s lungs spasmed, and he felt a desperate urge to cough. He pressed himself against the drill bit, bringing his hand to his mouth to muffle his cough.
He’d been so stupid. He’d assumed Elena was acting odd because of stims. Now it was clear. She’d been planning to betray him this whole time.
Victor watched Elena talking. The couple swiveled their heads left and right, scanning the hotel lobby. The man jogged to the front entrance and stepped outside, donning a pair of round sun-goggles. He paced along the façade. Were the front windows reflective or transparent? Victor turned away in case the man could see him.
Footsteps approached the gallery. There was nowhere to hide. Victor stepped from behind the drill bit and ran. He glanced over his shoulder. The woman was already chasing him.
He fled toward the exit.
Chapter 28
The religious revival that took root during the peaceful decades following the American Civil War contributed to a decidedly apolitical and sometimes transcendent reformation of the Christian faiths. Women and minorities, emboldened to expand their influence throughout every aspect of public life, took up important positions within the new churches. The watchwords of the day were truth, faith, social justice, and serenity. The South owes its rejuvenation as much to this movement as to the reparations paid by the North after the (ironically named) Reconstruction era.
Unfortunately, as the country moved toward the Repartition, the mystical strains of Christianity were outcompeted by a new invention: bombastic, radical, and fiercely political proselytizing. Revolutionary and anti-hierarchical philosophies flowered in American congregations everywhere except in the insular and imperial Northeast, but especially west of the Mississippi River. “Traditionalists” responded to long-term changes in society by radically “translating” the Gospels and adding their own new and divinely inspired myths an
d tracts.
—Circe Eastmore’s Race to the Top (1991)
Organized Western States
6 March 1991
Victor sped down the exhibit hall toward a set of emergency exit doors and blasted through them.
The high desert sun blinded him. The sidewalk, a wide, glaring-white concrete strip, was mostly empty, but the man had circled around the hotel and was running toward him.
Victor darted across the street, causing two cars to screech to a halt when their collision detectors activated. He struggled to maintain a swift pace along the length of the block. The air in his lungs burned, and his pulse throbbed behind his eyes. He heard Elena yelling for him to keep running, which made no sense, given that she’d betrayed him.
He pulled the Handy 1000 from his pocket to summon his car.
He glanced back. The couple were catching up to him, with Elena further back. Victor put on another burst of speed and reached a street that led toward the center of Las Vegas’s clock face. In two blocks the street met Three O’Clock Park. He ran, ignoring “Stay on the Trail” signs and dodging between sharp-pointed aloe bushes. His lungs felt like charred embers. When he reached the far end of the park, he glanced back and saw that he was only twenty meters ahead of his pursuers.
His Handy 1000 chimed. Seconds later his car pulled up.
Victor jumped in, only realizing as the car sped off that someone was already sitting in the passenger seat.
Tosh looked oversized in the smallish vehicle. He said, “You look like you’re running from something.”
“How did you find me?” Victor asked between gasping breaths.
“I tagged your car. Been following you. Spoke with your buddy Ozie.” Tosh reached over and tapped on the control console. “I know a place we can go.”
Victor watched in the rearview mirror as they left his pursuers behind.
Tosh asked, “Do you know who they are?”
“No idea. I thought they were Classification Commission, but if so, then why would they get in touch with Elena?” Victor wiped sweat off his forehead. He’d been so stupid, believing her lies. “She led them right to me.”
