‘Sounds good to me,’ she smiled. ‘First bit of good news I’ve had all day.’
Rickard smiled back. ‘Happy to help,’ he said, holding his hand out for her.
Taking his hand, he grunted as he helped her up. ‘Wow, you’re heavy now,’ he exclaimed.
‘I’m made of stronger stuff these days,’ she quipped. She felt the need to make light of the situation. To get too weighed down by the negativity would no doubt destroy her, and she had to admit that she did enjoy a lot of what this body was capable of.
Knowing these new combat abilities is especially satisfying. Frankie felt competent and positively dangerous.
Gibson walked her out of the camp and towards the street, where a tilt wing jet hovered into view, its jet engines blasting the asphalt as it gently alighted onto the road just before them. It’s rear ramp lowering down to reveal the empty interior of the craft with its seats and benches. She’d been momentarily afraid as the aircraft had made its final descent, wondering if she had trusted the right person. She had suddenly thought that this ship could be full of Psytech agents ready to take her down, and grew tense as the ramp had started to lever open.
She needn’t have worried, though and walked into the vacant interior at Gibson’s side with a renewed trust in him, and as she settled herself down into the seat, the aircraft’s engines roared once more, lifting it into the air as the door rose back up into place.
Frankie suddenly had a notification pop up in her vision.
- Detective Richard Gibson has sent a messaging request -
Neural Nets could call each other, but with a request for a link, you were able to send a text or audio-based message to each other that could be read or listened to at your leisure. In the belly of this aircraft the noise was incredible, making regular conversation somewhat difficult, they would need to yell at each other even though they were only a couple of meters apart.
Seconds after accepting the request, a new message icon flickered into view in her field of vision. She opened it.
- Detective Gibson: Thought this would be easier than shouting at each other. What's your address? -
Looking up at Richard, he gave her a friendly smile to accompany the message. Grinning and nodding back, she sent her address over to him. He nodded back to her in thanks and turned his head towards the cockpit and appeared to concentrate once more. He was no doubt talking with the pilot.
She twisted in her seat and looked through the small window next to her as they rose above the smaller buildings and the neon dark streets of Neo-London’s underbelly. Around the craft, above the older buildings rose the huge, modern tower block sized pillars holding the artificial canopy of the upper city aloft above them like a man made forest. The whole area was something of a nightmare to fly through. As they moved over the old town below, the futuristic towers beyond the windows moved in parallax with their illuminated windows like tiny artificial stars against the murky backdrop. After a short distance, the craft slowed and started to rise towards the underside of the city above. Seconds later they entered a large vertical tunnel that passed through the superstructure of the upper cities lowest level. Around them, lights from windows gleamed, reflecting off catwalks and pipes until they reached street level and started, at last, to rise through the upper city.
Massive towering skyscrapers of glass and metal surrounded her now, with elevated roads snaking between them on multiple levels. Road vehicles sped along the highways, some with conventional tyres, others with Maglev technology using their own super-fast lanes to traverse the vast metropolis that extended to the horizon and far beyond.
The craft rose up and banked around a few buildings that Frankie recognised, knowing they were very close to her apartment. She enjoyed the view while it lasted, marvelling at how things looked both familiar but also new and different from this vantage point.
Seconds later, her building came into view below them as the tilt wing manoeuvred around, eventually coming to rest on the rooftops landing pad and powering down.
‘Here we are,’ Gibson said out loud, unclipping his belt and standing up as the rear ramp lowered.
‘Thank you, Detective, I really appreciate it,’ she said.
‘Are you going to be alright? Do you want me to come down and check the apartment with you?’
Frankie thought about that for a moment, wondering if this was some kind of line by him, but then she realised how silly that was and that he was probably just concerned about her safety. She had told him that the Corporations were after her, and he knew as well as she did just how ruthless they could be. In fact, now she thought about it, it was entirely possible that Psytech knew where she lived and might be waiting for her right now.
She’d dropped an incendiary grenade next to her body in Dr X’s lab on purpose in an attempt to destroy her body and hide her identity, but she had no idea if that little stunt had worked. They could have taken her DNA and traced her back to this apartment without too much trouble.
She had taken some precautions when she had moved in here, wanting to escape her old life and not have to deal with her family, including using a fake surname. But it wouldn’t take a genius to trace her movements back here using the feed from the thousands of security cameras that filled the city.
With the thought of discovery and capture by the Corps running through her mind, the idea of having someone like Detective Gibson with her sounded very appealing, at least for a while. He’d offered to help her after all.
‘Actually yes, I would like you to come down with me. It’s entirely possible that some Psytech Agents might be waiting for me, so, if that’s ok?’
‘Absolutely, I don’t want to see you get kidnapped by the Corps,’ he said and followed her off the landing platform and towards the entrance to the stairs. Behind them, the tilt wing fired up its engines again and rose into the air. She looked back at Gibson with a questioning look.
‘Don’t worry, he’s not going far, he’ll come back for me when I’m ready,’ he said.
She nodded, and led him onwards, off the landing pad and around the rooftop. On rounding another large air conditioning unit, she saw the door to the stairs and a group of four young men, teenagers she guessed, stood next to it. She immediately recognised Dion, who lived on her floor, and his mates.
They all stood or sat close to the door and smiled at her and Gibson as they came into view. Frankie quickly spotted a little wispy smoke from some hastily extinguished roll ups and couldn’t help but smile to herself. They’d thought that she was a cop.
As they walked up towards the door, she saw Dion look up and suddenly recognise her.
‘Frankie? What were you doing on that Police Flyer?’
‘Hey Dion,’ Frankie said.
‘You know this chick Blaiz?’ said one of Dion’s friends, that must be their nickname for him.
‘Yeah, she’s from my floor, I seen her about, didn’t know she was a pig, though?’
A couple of his mates snorted through their noses, making pig noises.
‘Frankie here isn’t with the Police, we caught her trespassing in the Undercity, and we’re just dropping here back here,’ Gibson lied.
She watched as the looks on the faces of the four youths changed from expressions of disgust to slight admiration. Gibson was changing how these kids saw her. It was a calculated move that he no doubt hoped would save her any trouble from these guys in the future.
‘You were in the Undercity?’ Dion asked.
One of his mates whistled.
‘Yeah, I go down there regular, you know,’ she said, knowing that no one went down there unless you could look after yourself or you didn’t want to come back. It appeared that she had just gained a modicum of respect from these kids.
‘Damn girl, you hot,’ one of the guys said.
‘Come on, let’s go, Gibson said, ushering her through the doorway to the stairs. ‘When I come back up, if I find you guys still here, I’ll be taking you in for using, got it?�
��
They all nodded.
Gibson turned away and followed Frankie down the stairs.
‘Thank you osifer,’ one of the kids called after them as they made their way towards the elevators and pressed the call button.
‘Have you lived here long?’ he asked her.
‘Getting on for a year now, it’s okay, the rents cheap so, it’ll do. I don’t spend much time here,’ Frankie added on, suddenly realising she was letting someone enter her apartment without cleaning the place first. Had she left any dirty laundry out? She couldn’t remember. Well, if there was an Agent in there wanting to kill them at least that would distract Gibson from the mess that would most likely greet them.
‘Well, you seem to spend most of your time in the under city. I presume you have a job that you attend the rest of the time?’
‘You’ve pretty much summed up my life in two sentences there,’ she joked.
‘What on earth made you want to come down to help those less fortunate? I mean, what you’ve been doing is amazing and very selfless, you have my utmost respect for what you’ve been doing, but, why? A girl your age should be hitting the nightclubs and enjoying life, surely?’
The lift doors opened before them, allowing them to stepped inside with Gibson next to her. She pressed the button to her floor, causing the doors to close.
‘Well, I suppose I’ve seen what the Corporations do, I’ve seen their… I’ve seen what they do to people, and it makes me sick. I just couldn’t stand by and do nothing,’ she answered as the lift dropped.
‘Maybe, but, I think you’d agree that you’ve paid a relatively high price. The Undercity is not a friendly place at the best of times,’ he said.
‘I know. I was quite aware of what I was getting myself into, Detective, I can handle myself,’ Frankie protested.
‘Of that, I have no doubt, but even the best fighter in the world can surprised.’
She nodded, knowing he was right. Hell, she was now living proof that the Undercity was not the best place to be spending your life if you didn’t have too. But she had been on a mission, and no one would have turned her away from that. In fact, looking back now, even with the recent events, she still felt the burning need to do something, to alleviate the hurt and suffering that the Corps were dishing out.
It was kind of nice to know that her recent trauma hadn’t dulled her sense of right and wrong.
The lift slowed, and the doors opened up, revealing a deserted corridor beyond. Nothing unusual so far, so they exited, and Frankie took the lead, walking down the hallway with its laminated floors towards her apartment up ahead.
‘Francesca,’ said a voice just behind them when they were about ten meters from her door.
‘Janet,’ Frankie sighed.
‘Mrs Scrivens to you. You know what I’m going to ask, right?’
‘Rent,’ Frankie said, turning to face her.
Her landlord just smiled back at her and held out her hand, no doubt waiting for some money to be handed over.
Frankie looked down at Janet’s hand for a moment, her mouth hanging open, not feeling sure what she should say.
‘I… uh, I don’t have…’
‘Sorry, what was that? You want to give notice on your apartment and move out?’ Mrs Scrivens said.
‘I um…’
Gibson suddenly placed a business card into her palm, the logo for the Metropolitan Police clearly visible.
Mrs Scrivens looked down at it for a moment in shock.
‘Send me her bill, I will see that you get paid,’ Gibson said.
Her landlord looked over at Gibson for the first time, then glanced back at the logo on the card before smiling up at the Detective.
‘Detective… Gibson. Thank you. I take it, Francesca here is in a spot of bother with the law? What has she been doing in the Undercity this time?’
‘Actually Ma’am, Frankie has been assisting us with our investigations and has been vital in bringing some rather dangerous people to justice. We couldn’t have done it without her; she’s something of a hero,’ he said, lying again.
‘Oh… is that right?’ she asked.
‘Absolutely, now, if I can just get you to return to your apartment, I need to make sure Frankie gets home safely,’ Gibson said.
‘Of course, Detective, let me know if I can be of any help, good day to you,’ Janet said.
With her landlord safely out of harm's way, Frankie returned her attention back to her apartment door.
As she reached it, she pulled out her key card, which Richard took from her hand.
‘Let me, just in case,’ he said and stepped forward. Frankie wasn’t about to argue with him over this and let him take the lead, stepping back to give him space. She saw him pull his gun, holding it in one hand pointing at the floor for the time being.
Putting the card into the slot, the tiny light on the lock changed from red to green as it disengaging and he drew the card out.
Raising his gun, Richard used his off hand to open the door a touch, before returning it to the gun to give him a double grip and used his foot to push the door open gently.
Frankie watched as it swung wide, and followed Gibson in as he moved into her apartment, checking his corners.
Her apartment wasn’t big, in fact, is was just one main living room with a separate bathroom space. It took just a few seconds to know they were in the clear, allowing them to relax and take a breath.
‘You live alone here?’ Gibson asked, holstering his gun.
‘I do, she said, picking up a few stray bits of laundry. ‘Sorry for the mess, if I’d known…’
‘Don’t worry; the main thing is that you’re safe, for now. That’s a little more important than a few clothes on the floor,’ he smiled.
‘Thanks, I appreciate what you’ve done for me,’ she said.
‘What are you going to do now?’ he asked.
‘I… I don’t know…’ she frowned.
‘Well, it looks like your movements are going to be somewhat… limited.’
‘I know… I… Look, would you mind if I just went and got a change of clothes, I just need to sort myself out. Help yourself to a drink, there’s not much in the cupboards, but, if you find something, you’re welcome to it,’ she offered.
‘Sure, go ahead,’ he answered.
Smiling, she rummaged for some more suitable clothes and walked into the bathroom, closing the door behind her. She quickly pulled off the coat and dirty overalls and was about to jump into the shower, before suddenly wondering if that was a very good idea. Was her body waterproof? She thought back to her escape from the Psytech Agents and her run through the pouring rain earlier, and figured if she could survive the rain, a shower would be okay.
Wiping the dirt and grime from her new body was an odd feeling. She couldn’t help looking at herself and noting the changes and how different her new body was.
There were joint seams all over her where she guessed she had been assembled. They were faint, but she could see them quite easily. She just felt happy that none of them were on her face.
The complete lack of nipples and, now that she investigated, any sex organs at all was more than a little disconcerting.
Was she female anymore? She still had the shape of a woman, complete with breasts and hips, but having no vagina was really weird.
Feeling clean finally, she stepped out of the shower cubicle and dried herself off, still feeling a little strange.
There was nothing she could do right now, though; she would need the Doctor in order to make any changes to herself, which was just another reason to add to the growing list of them that backed up her idea of getting out there and bringing the good Doctor home.
But how would she do that?
She pulled on a pair of black leggings, a dark fitted top and some boots before exiting the bathroom to find Gibson sat on her old scavenged sofa with a glass of water.
‘Feeling better?’ he asked.
She went to answer hi
m but realised that it wasn’t an easy question to answer, so she ended up taking a breath and letting it go without speaking as she thought about what her answer could be.
‘You know, I’m not sure I have an answer to that yet,’ she said at last as she walked round and sat in a chair opposite him as she finished drying her hair. ‘I’d like to say yes, but honestly, although I feel perfectly well, this new body bothers me. It doesn’t feel like it’s mine, it’s different.’
‘In what way? I mean, we’ve met a few times, and I knew you had no augmentations of your own before this, did you?’ he stated.
‘I didn’t, no. But, you’ve had work done, haven’t you? You know what it’s like?’
‘I have a Neural Net, but that’s all. I need the Wet Work to do my job, but I’ve always avoided prosthetics. I mean, I had the opportunity once after an injury I sustained in a gunfight, but I opted for a biological replacement, one of those 3D printed ones. That’s a little different to what you have gone through, not least because it was against your will.’
‘I suppose.’ She mused. Neural Nets were commonplace, most people had them, but Frankie had always resisted. The more Cyberized your brain became, the more you opened yourself up to hackers and viruses. She’d heard stories of people having their memories hacked and given whole new identities that served the hackers needs. It all sounded utterly horrific to her, and she just didn’t like the idea.
These days, the operation to have a Neural Net implanted was about as straightforward as you got, although to have it described to you, it sounded somewhat invasive. The modern Neural Net, complete with sockets for wired interface was usually implanted at the base of the skull by removing one of your vertebrae and replacing it with an Artificial one which then sent tendrils into your brain, unlocking its potential. She ran her fingers over the back of her neck at the base of her skull, to feel the metallic jacks that were embedded into her skin.
From what she knew, Gibson’s Neural Net would give him a similar set of icons in his vision to what she had. They would allow access to the net directly from his mind, internal messaging and calling, access to the best VR you could ever get and more.
Promethean Files 1: The New Prometheus Page 7
