Dydeetown World

by F. Paul Wilson

  He dropped the package in his hand.

  "What are you doing in here? I'm calling security!"

  He reached for the panic button. Obviously he didn't recognize me.

  "You shock me, Earl," I said quickly. "Throwing out your old friend without even a hello."

  His finger stopped about a millimeter short of the button.

  "My name's not —"

  He gave me a closer look. Came the dawn:

  "You — you're that, that, that —"

  "Investigator."

  "Right!" He smiled. "How have you been, Mr...? Forgive me, I forget your name."

  "Really? How could you forget the name of the man you hired to find your daughter?"

  The smile faltered and his hand still hovered over the panic button.

  "I'm not sure I know what you're talking about."

  "The name's Dreyer. Sig Dreyer. And what shall I call you?

  'Mr. Khambot' or 'Mr. Karmo?' "

  "Mr. Karmo will do fine."

  "Good. Let's talk, shall we, Mr. Karmo? I'm not here to cause you any trouble. You paid me well for my time so I've got no quarrel with you. But I am curious."

  Finally, he dragged his hand away from the button and took the only other seat in the tiny compartment.

  "I don't think you'll be too happy with what I have to tell you, Mr. Dreyer."

  "Why not?"

  "Because there isn't much."

  "Let me decide that. You can start by telling me if you have a daughter."

  He laughed but it didn't seem to relax him. "Oh, no! Of course not! That was just part of the story!"

  "But why any story at all?"

  "I really don't know. I'm an actor. I was hired to act." He shrugged expressively. "So I acted."

  "Who hired you?"

  "I don't know. He was wearing a holosuit."

  "Isn't that just bloaty!" I said, getting annoyed and showing it.

  Karmo cringed. "Sorry."

  "What was the image?"

  "Joey Jose."

  Wanted to throw something. Had high hopes since tracking Karmo down, now they were going up in smoke. He'd been hired by a guy hiding inside the holographic image of the Megalops' most popular entertainer. The number one holosuit on the rental circuit. Every holodashery had twenty Joey Joses in stock. No way of tracing the mystery man through that!

  "What about the voice? Any accent?"

  Karmo cringed again. "He was using a Joey voicer."

  A holosuit and a voicesizer. Whoever he was, he was taking great pains to cover his tracks.

  "And he just came up to you and handed you that gold piece and said 'Go get find somebody to search for your imaginary urchin daughter' and you picked me out to —"

  "Oh, no. He was very specific. It had to be Sigmundo Dreyer and nobody else."

  "But I'd been out of business for years! I'd only opened up a couple of days before you showed up!"

  Another shrug. "What can I say? Maybe he'd been waiting for you to reopen. All I know is that he gave me two goldies, told me to use one to hire you and keep the other for myself. If I was successful in getting you to take the job, there were two more coins in it for me." He smiled briefly. "Needless to say, for that kind of fee, I put on my best performance."

  He shrank back as I stood up.

  "That you did, my friend. That you did."

  Would have liked to give the jog a dose of Truth but had a feeling I'd learn nothing new. Somebody pretty glossy was behind this: Left no trail, and dangled a pay schedule that not only kept Karmo from roguing off with the goldies, but insured he'd give the performance his all.

  "No harm done, I hope," Karmo said.

  Clapped him on the shoulder and he almost came apart.

  "Nope. No harm at all. Just want to know what's behind it all. And you're no dregging help."

  Left a very relieved and very sweaty actor behind in his compartment.

  -3-

  "Eat your soyshi."

  B.B. made a face. "Needs more cooking."

  "No so. Supposed to be raw."

  "Raw fishee?"

  His repulsed expression was something to behold. All I could do to keep from laughing. He was pulling me out of the trough I'd slipped into since my talk with Karmo.

  "Not real fish. Only looks that way. It's veg. Pseudotuna on vinegared rice. Watch." Finger-dipped one into the nearby soy-wasabi mix and popped it into my mouth. "Mmmm! Filamentous!"

  B.B. grabbed his throat in a stranglehold and treated me to the sound of a melodramatic retch as he toppled off his chair.

  The other customers in the dinnero were starting to stare.

  "Get up before they kick you out of here!"

  He returned to his seat. "H'bout soysteak?"

  "Pardon?" I said, cupping my ear.

  "How about a soysteak?" he said carefully.

  "How about broadening your horizons? There's more to eating than soysteaks, cheesoids, and speed spuds."

  "N'like this dreggy stuff."

  "How would you know? You haven't tasted any. What kind of parent would I be if —"

  "N'my parent!"

  That stung more than I would have imagined. Don't even know why I'd referred to myself as his parent. Didn't want to be. Truly. But felt the jab anyway. The sting must have shown on my face, because he added:

  "Wendy parent to all Lost Boys."

  Could have added that you're allowed more than one parent but that would have slipped me into a position I didn't particularly care for so I kept mum.

  "Right. Forgot."

  The black mood was settling on me again.

  "You fren, Sig. Not parent."

  "One way of looking at it, I guess. And friends don't make other friends eat soyshi, right?"

  "Right."

  Ordered him a soysteak with his habitual trimmings. Every time I took him out to eat he ordered the same dregging meal.

  Urchins must have a high threshhold of boredom.

  "Who is this Wendy, anyway?" I said as we waited for his meal.

  "Mom-to-all."

  "B.B...." I said tiredly.

  "Know, yes, know, Sig. Not biomom, but real mom. Readee us, teachee us, fixee clothes an food. Do tuck-in a'night f'babes."

  His eyes shone as he spoke. There was adoration there. Why did that irk me? What did I care about some crazy femme playing Mamma to some urches?

  "What's she look like?""

  "Byooful."

  "Of course. Aren't all mothers? But give me some details. Her hair, for instance? Blond?"

  He shook his head. "Brown straight."

  "Fat? Thin?"

  "Thin like us, course."

  "Why 'course'? When she leaves you at night, she probably goes home to a big meal.

  "Wendy live w'urches."

  That gave me pause. Who in their right mind would want to live in the tunnels with a horde of kids, eating begged food and cooking rats?

  "What's she get out of it?"

  He beamed. "Family. Allus family."

  "All?"

  "Huh. Sh'go most gangs. Mom-to-all, but sh'come back Lost Boys most. We her firs famly."

  "She never leaves the tunnels?"

  "Sometime, but n'f'long. Always come back with special giftees."

  Now I was really suspicious. This Wendy was either a true disequillibrated non-comp, verging on black holedom, or there was a roguey angle to this that I wasn't seeing. Either way, I wasn't comfortable having B.B. involved with her. Not until I knew more.

  "Sounds like a wonderful person," I said. "When can I meet this Wendy?"

  He started as if he'd just received a shock.

  "Meetee? Oh, no. None upside ev meetee Wendy. Sh'say n'ever jaw 'bout her to any not urch."

  "You told me."

  "You friend f'life, Sig. Trust."

  "Yeah. Well, see if you can arrange it. It's very important to me to meet such a unique person."

  "I ask, b'tell now, sh'nev say 'kay."

  The food arrived then and no fur
ther conversation was possible. You can't talk to B.B. when he's got a meal in front of him. You can barely watch him.

  -4-

  Two days later, sitting in my office, got treated to the pleasure of another visit from my favorite procurer and clone slaver, Ned Spinner.

  "What do you want, Spinner?" I said as he stood in front of my desk, staring at me.

  His hair was in his usual curly blond Caesar cut and he was dressed in the same dark green pseudovelvet jump he always wore.

  As he spoke in his nasal whine, he began strutting back and forth, doing his oversized rooster routine.

  "I heard about your accident. I just wanted to check up on you and make sure you were okay."

  "Your concern is touching."

  "Truth, Dreyer. I was really worried when I heard. After all, you're probably the only one who knows the whereabouts of my stolen clone. I didn't want the secret to die with you."

  "You can go now."

  He hesitated. "Look, Dreyer. I'll make a deal. I know you've put her in business somewhere, but the take you're getting off her can't be anything near what she could earn back in Dydeetown. She was dregging good, one of the top earners in the whole —"

  "The door is behind you, Spinner."

  "I'm offering you a cut, you jog!" he screamed. "Tell me where she is and I'll go get her. I'll set her up in her old spot in Dydeetown and give you a percentage! What could be fairer? After all, she's my dregging clone!"

  Stared at him.

  "Well," he said. "What do you say? Attractive offer, no?"

  "No. Because then I'd be like you, Spinner. And I don't find that the least bit attractive."

  The sneer that he tried to pass off as a smile crawled across his face. "All right, Dreyer. Play your roguey game. But keep in mind that I'm always around. I'm always watching you."

  "Each night I rest easy knowing that."

  "Don't rest easy, Dreyer. I'm the guy that's going to cut you down. Remember: every day, I'm watching. And one of these days, you're going to lead me back to my property."

  "Your clone is on one of the outworlds, Spinner. And since I don't plan on heading off-planet soon or ever, you've got a long wait ahead of you."

  "Keep lying, Dreyer. You'll lose more than your head when I catch you with her.""

  "Look," I said, trying to talk some sense into him so he'd leave me alone. Doubted that was possible — after all, he'd made a good living off his Jean Harlow clone and now he was on the dole without her — but figured I'd try. "Even if you got her back, she'd be no good to you. She'll refuse to whore a Dydeetown slot for you. So why don't you face facts? You lost. She won. She got away and she's staying away. Give it up."

  His eyes blazed as he slammed a fist on my desk.

  "Never! She's Earthside! Probably right here in the Megalops! And I'm gonna find her! And if she won't cooperate, I'll memwipe her and we'll start all over again from scratch! But I'm never giving up, Dreyer!"

  Good thing he left on his own then. The thought of him wiping Jean's memory and sticking her back in Dydeetown had me itching to go for his throat.

  Was just about calmed down when B.B. popped in. He looked dazed as he plopped down on a chair.

  "Something wrong, kid?"

  He shook his head slowly as he spoke, as if not fully understanding what he was saying.

  "Har b'lieve, Sig, b'Wendy say sh'jaw you, see you."

  B.B. was definitely spending too much time with his old urchingang. Had to work on getting him to do some time in front of the datastream before his speech got stuck in pure urch pidgin again.

  "Well, I assume you gave me a bloaty recommendation."

  "Bloaty, yeh, b'she nev see toppers."

  "She's gotta see somebody when she disappears topside."

  He thought about that one. "Mayb. B'when sh'go way, nev f'long. Allus back morn."

  Understandable. No matter how overdone she was on urchins, even this Wendy had to crave some adult chatter once in a while. Maybe that was why she'd agreed to meet me. She'd know from B.B. that I wasn't some dregger out to stake some sort of claim on them, especially after taking that pair of vultures from NeuroNex off their backs.

  "When do we meet this lady?"

  "Now, today, ri'way."

  "Whoa, little man. I've got business to tend to."

  Not true, but I wanted to have some say in how and when this meeting took place.

  "Sh'say now or nev. Or leas nah f'verlon time."

  Wasn't happy with the ultimatum, but the meet had been my idea, in the first place. She was agreeing to it, but on her own terms.

  "Where?"

  "In downbelow."

  "In the tunnels?"

  "Wendy n'like upside."

  "Bloaty." Last place I wanted to spend a day was in the old trans tunnels. "I'll get a handlight and then you can lead the way, B.B."

  We tubed across to the Battery area, back to the foundation of the Okumo-Slater building where I'd met my first urchins, then shot north two stops. From there it was all on foot. We walked further north until we came to a middle-sized office complex.

  B.B. led me through the sub-basement to an old sealed up subway entrance. The kids had unsealed it long ago. He ducked within, I squeezed through behind. Out came our lights and we began our crawl into the Megalops' nether regions.

  Down concrete steps with our handlights refecting off old tiled walls, along rubble-strewn corridors, hopping down concrete embankments to follow steel rails through passages crudely hacked through the living granite. Moisture had collected in puddles, some small, some wide enough to block our path so that we had to creep along a raised ledge to get by. Something splashed in one of the bigger puddles as we passed and I felt my hackles rise.

  "Chilly down here," I said.

  Ahead of me, I could see B.B. shrug. "Allus same. No matter what upside, allus same in downbelow."

  After a long, seemingly endless tunnel, I noticed a faint glow from up ahead. It grew as we moved toward it, becoming almost blinding as we rounded a bend.

  A station, an old subway stop. What wall tiles that remained sparkled in the light. In one spot, some blue and orange tiles formed a sign: W. 4th. In a far corner, green things were growing. The platform was lined with a motley assortment of little shacks made of epoxied scrap vinyl and polymer. They looked like they'd been slapped together, but the overall picture was one of neatness and order. Saw a few urchin toddlers sitting and playing in a group while some nine- or ten-year olds swept the platform floor between the shacks. Cleaning up. Almost like they were expecting company.

  "The Lost Boys," I said.

  "Ri'!"

  As we got closer, I squinted up at the bright ceiling over the platform and saw that it was lined with Ito daybars. Nudged B.B. and pointed to them.

  "Where'd you get those?"

  "Stealee long time go. Two-three urch life."

  "Yeah, but you need power —"

  "Stealee tha, too." He pocketed his handlight. "Come. You meetee my frens."

  B.B. led the way up a short run of steps to the platform. A couple of the kids waved as they caught sight of him, then froze when they saw me. One of them let out a yell and suddenly a torrent of urchins of all shapes and sizes came spilling out of their shanties. Only in a few cases could I tell the boys from the girls. They were all thin, all dressed in castoff clothing, all had hair of about the same length.

  And all the older ones were armed and looked ready to fight.

  B.B. hurried forward, waving his hands. "No, no!" He pointed back at me. "Siggy! Siggy!"

  Saw their eyes widen as they all stared at me. Suddenly the platform was silent. They began to move toward me, slowly, as if unsure of themselves.

  Wasn't too sure of myself either at the moment. An awful lot of them — fifty at least — and I was pretty much at their mercy. Couldn't even run if it came to that. Didn't know how to backtrack from here. So I held my ground and let them come.

  Their faces...their expressions were all t
he same. Could that be awe? Of me?

  They crowded around, cut me off from B.B., encircled me, but kept a distance of about a meter. Until one of the toddlers broke through the others and came up to me. He or she looked up at me for a moment, then grabbed my leg in a bear hug, saying…

  "Thiggy."

  That broke the ice. The rest of them crowded closer, some patting me on the back, some gently punching me on my shoulders, others hugging me, and all of them speaking softly, almost reverently…

  "Siggy, Siggy, Siggy."

  What was going on?

  Looked around for B.B. but couldn't find him in the press.

  Then the crowd parted to let someone through. An adult. A woman. Slim, with straight, light brown hair flowing over her shoulders. Nice figure.

  When she smiled, I knew her. The platinum hair was gone, and so was all the make-up. But by the Core I knew her.

  "Jean!"

  "Hello, Mr. Dreyer," she said, calm and as matter-of-fact as if we had just had lunch together yesterday.

  She put a hand on my shoulder and kissed me on the cheek.

  All around us, the urches giggled and whispered.

  "They like you," she said.

  With the toddler urches clinging to my arms and legs, I could only gape at her.

  "B.B. has spoken so much of you, about how you almost died catching the ones who were snatching our toddlers. You're a hero here, Mr. Dreyer. All the urchingangs have heard of you."

  Finally found my voice.

  "It's been two years, Jean. Thought you were Out Where All The Good Folks Go."

  "I was. I went to Neeka and settled there for a while. I thought it would be all right. I thought I could fit in. But it didn't work out."

  "You didn't tell them you were a clone, did you?"

  "No. That wasn't the problem. I had plenty of men interested in me."

  "I'll bet."

  No shortage of food on the Outworlds, but they were always short on women.

  "But I quickly found out that I would never be considered a suitable mate for anyone there."

  "Why not?"

  She shrugged forlornly. "I'm sterile."

  "Oh. Right."

  Had forgot about that. All clones, male and female, are routinely sterilized at birth — at deincubation, rather. Injected with something that keeps the gonads from producing gametes without interferring with their hormone output.