The Lucifer Deck

by Lisa Smedman

  She didn’t know where she was, but she could guess. They’d driven across the Intercity 90 bridge to Bellevue, then to a two-story building whose walls were completely covered in ivy. She’d been hustled in past some heavy-duty security at the front door, through a series of hallways, and past a large room whose floor and walls were covered in strange symbols. This had to be a magical research laboratory of some sort. One owned by Mitsuhama, the corporation whose goons had been on her case since the beginning of this thing.

  From time to time, people came into the room. They would turn down the noise generated by the hood and fire questions at Pita. They seemed to know everything that had happened the night before last. About how Aziz had attracted the attention of the spirit, and how Pita had directed its actions. They were even able to describe the motions the two had gone through and the hermetic circle in the abandoned convenience store. They’d found the burned hell hound in the Mitsuhama office tower, and had figured out that Pita had ordered the spirit to do the job. Odd, how they kept referring to this as a "demonstration" rather than the rescue mission it had actually been.

  But the people questioning Pita didn’t seem to understand exactly how she had used the spirit’s true name—despite the fact that they knew it was burned into her arm. Hell, that was something Pita herself didn’t understand. Somehow, she had watched as the spirit flashed its way across the city, and had directed it against the cops who had killed her friends. But she certainly wasn’t going to volunteer that information. Not to the mages who kept questioning her. She was in a tight enough spot as it was, without admitting to assaulting two cops.

  The mages wanted her to summon the spirit and give it a different command this time. She was to order it to stay away from the Matrix. But even if Pita had the guts to face the spirit again, she wasn’t sure she would be able to do what the corporate suits wanted. The Matrix was a complicated thing for someone like her—a high school drop-out—to describe. All she knew was that it was a bunch of computers that were somehow linked to one another; she’d flunked out of Basic Tech and didn’t even really understand how a telecom worked. But no matter how many times she tried to tell them this, they weren’t willing to listen. They wanted her to do it right now, today, as soon as possible. And they promised her that if she tried to turn the spirit against them, she’d be dead. No matter how many of its employees she fried, Mitsuhama would get her in the end. The corporation was huge, with connections in every city and plenty of magic and money to back it up. Cross Mitsuhama, and she’d be dead meat. She could count on it.

  Pita lifted her head as the door opened. She knew better than to charge toward the doorway; the last time she’d tried, a pair of thick arms had wrapped around her, forcing her back into the chair. Then her nose caught a whiff of perfume. Where had she smelled that fragrance before?

  Hands fumbled at the plastic hood that covered her face. The white noise died away, and then the hood was tugged free. Pita blinked, unable to focus in the brightly lit room. Footsteps receded, and the door clicked shut. But someone was still in the room with her.

  "Pita? Are you all right?"

  Pita gasped as she recognized the person. "Carla!" she croaked. "What are you doing here? Did they capture you too?"

  The reporter crossed the room and sat down in the chair next to Pita’s. She didn’t look as though anyone had roughed her up. Her tailored jacket and skirt were unwrinkled, and her dark hair was held back in a neat braid. Her makeup hadn’t even smudged, and her face held a composed smile. But that was hardly unusual. The only time Pita had seen Carla looking even slightly flustered was after the yaks had gunned Yao down and were chasing after Masaki’s car. And even then her clothes hadn’t been mussed. At least, not much.

  "I’m here because I asked to see you, Pita." Carla said. "I wanted to talk to you."

  Pita squinted at the reporter. The glare of light from the white walls still hurt her eyes. She was finding it difficult to concentrate, but the reporter didn’t resist her and she was able to insert a catlike claw and tease out what was uppermost in Carla’s thoughts. What she found there startled and angered her. "So you’re working for Mitsuhama now, huh? Then why the frag should I talk to you?"

  Carla caught her breath. "How did you—?" Then the corners of her mouth turned down. "It’s true I’m working for them." she answered. "But not willingly. And I really did come here to make sure you’re all right."

  She was telling the truth. Pita retracted her mental claw from Carla’s mind. "But you can’t do anything for me." She scuffed the toe of her running shoe against the floor. "No one can. I’m stuck here until I do what they want—until I talk to that fragging spirit again. They don’t care drek about me—just about what I can do for them. And if I agree, they’ll only kill me when I’m done. When they don’t need me any more."

  Pita could see from Carla’s expression that the reporter didn’t need to be convinced that Mitsuhama saw people as disposable. The corporation’s goons had killed Yao, and his only crime was being in the wrong place at the wrong time—standing in the way of something the corporation wanted back. And they’d burned down Aziz’s shop without a second thought. The only reason they were keeping Pita alive was because she was valuable to them. Or at least her arm was, anyway.

  She stifled the urge to scratch the burn. The mages who had talked to her seemed to be convinced that only she could "read" the true name that had been seared into her flesh. But if she stalled too long and they figured out how to decipher that code themselves, they might decide that everything but her arm was expendable . ..

  "Pita, listen to me."

  Pita returned her attention to the reporter.

  "Mitsuhama doesn’t just want the spirit kept out of the Matrix." Carla said. "They’ll want to do more research on it. And that means they have to keep you alive. You’re the only one who can control the thing. You’re the one in charge of it. And Mitsuhama knows that.

  "Listen." she said, leaning closer. "I know they’ve treated you badly—I saw the magemask you were wearing when I came in. They’ve tried the stick approach so far, but I’ve persuaded them that the carrot is more effective. They’re willing to pay you thirty thousand nuyen if you cooperate. And to release you afterward."

  Pita looked up. Thirty-K nuyen? That was as much as her father made in a year. She’d be rich! She’d have her own apartment, nice clothes, maybe buy a car ... But then reality set in. The corporation had done nothing but manhandle and bully her so far. Why the frag should they actually pay her, once they got what they wanted? And what else would they make her do with the spirit? Probably force her to use it to kill. The one taste Pita had of that power had been enough. She hadn’t been able to smell the cops’ skin crisping as the spirit licked across their bodies, but she’d seen the terror in their eyes. It was hard enough to do that to someone she hated, never mind geeking some innocent person. She didn’t want any part of that deal. At any price.

  "Do you really believe they’ll give me the money and then just let me go?" she asked Carla.

  "Of course." the reporter answered. But her head moved a fraction of a centimeter to the left and right. The body language in the head shake was clear. The real answer was no. "And in the meantime, I’ll be working on your behalf, keeping tabs on you. We still have that story on Lone Star to do, after all."

  Pita sat for a moment, thinking. Was there no way out? She stared at the reporter, watching as the pupil of Carla’s cybereye dilated and contracted independently of her real eye. At first she was angry at the thought of the reporter shooting trideo of her without her permission. Even though they were pirate broadcasters, the guys at Orks First! had been up-front about the fact that they were shooting trid. Anwar’s bulky, antiquated camera had been especially hard to miss. Pita wondered where he was now. And then, all at once, she saw a way out.

  "Tell Mitsuhama that I’ll do it." she said carefully.

  "I’ll control the spirit and give it new commands. But only if it’s
covered—live—by Orks First! trideo."

  A grin was growing on Carla’s face. "A live trideo broadcast? That’s good. Now you’re thinking like a reporter, kid. They won’t dare continue to hold you here against your will—not while the cameras are rolling. And we’ll keep the live broadcast going until you’re out of here and have reached somewhere safe."

  Safe. Pita mulled the word over. Would she ever really be safe? She was just one kid up against a huge corporation. But at least she could buy herself some breathing time. And some temporary freedom. All she had to do was confront an immensely powerful magical creature and explain a concept to it that she herself didn’t really understand. Piece of cake.

  "Is there anything you want?" Carla asked. "Anything I can get you?"

  "Yeah." Pita answered. "Tell those yak fraggers not to put that hood back on me. And tell them I’m hungry. I want a sushi burger, some deep-fried noodles, a Growlie bar, a can of Fizz, a medium Wide Wedge pizza with everything, some . . ."

  "Slow down!" Carla said. "I’m sure they’ll bring you whatever you like, once you’ve agreed to cooperate. But first you’d better tell me how to get in touch with Orks First!"

  30

  The Orks First! pirate adjusted his tripod-mounted portacam and peered through the range finder. Anwar was wearing jeans and a fringed Tribal Wear shirt, and had a red scarf knotted around his head. He even had an eye patch. It was a dull silver, rather than the traditional black pirate patch, and full of electronics. While his portacam was rolling, it would provide him with a direct feed, showing exactly what the camera was capturing. Pita couldn’t image how he could watch both it and the real world at the same time and not be disoriented and stumble about. But the double vision didn’t seem to bother him in the least, even though the equipment was brand new and he must still be getting used to it.

  Anwar stepped in front of the camera and touched the audio feed in his ear. "Hoi Alfonz! You gettin’ a feed? Give me a code-blue signal if it’s comin’ through."

  After listening for a moment, he waved a hand to catch the attention of those who had gathered in the room. "Okay." he told them. "I’m set. We can start any time you like." He turned to address the Mitsuhama and Renraku executives directly. "Just one warning. I’ll know if you break the patch to the KKRU transmitter. If I don’t get a steady feed of codes from my ah . . . associates . . . I’ll know the broadcast has gone off the air or has been tampered with. So no funny stuff, huh? We want this livecast to go smoothly."

  Pita stood between two suits, shuffling her feet uncomfortably. A cluster of executives had been assembled in the research lab where the spellcasting would take place. Behind them, mages put the finishing touches on the hermetic circle, placing the elements in their positions and making sure the lines were intact.

  One of the executives—a slender Asian fellow with a gold ring and wristcom—nodded at the ork reporter. "We too will have associates watching the broadcast. If the voice masking slips and reveals any copyrightable spell material, we’ll pull the plug."

  "Agreed." the ork rumbled. Then he turned to the mages. "Ready?"

  They nodded, and he raised his microphone. It looked slender as a twig in the ork’s massive hand. He turned to face the camera as a red light winked on.

  "This is Anwar Ingram, comin’ at you live from the Mitsuhama Computer Technologies secondary research laboratory in Bellevue. We’re here today with an exclusive Orks First! interview with a young ork by the name of Patti Dewar. This previously unknown magical talent has been chosen to head up a joint magical experiment by MCT Seattle and Renraku Computer Technologies.

  "You’ve probably already seen the story that KKRU’s Carla Harris aired earlier today, about the plans by these two corporations to stop a renegade spirit that has used its energies to cause damage to the Matrix by shutting down systems and wiping data left and right. Now Orks First! brings you the dramatic fruits of this labor—live! For the first time ever on trideo, you’ll see the spirit that has been wreaking havoc all over the city. Not only that, but at the conclusion of the spellcasting we’ll follow Patti to the Street Savers shelter for street kids, where she will be turning over to the charity the 30,000 nuyen fee she is being paid for today’s magical services, and where she’ll be working over the next few months to ensure that this credit is properly spent."

  Yeah, Pita thought. Spent on me. The "donation" to the shelter was just a means of ensuring that the corp actually paid out what it had promised. Mitsuhama would look bad, if they stiffed a charity. Once the nuyen was transferred to Street Savers, a friend of Anwar’s who worked at the shelter would place it in an account that Pita could draw upon. The five thousand nuyen she’d have to leave untouched in the account would be a small price to pay for his help.

  The pirate newscaster paused to listen to his audio feed, then stepped behind Pita and the suits. He laid a hand on the shoulder of one of the executives, an Asian man with an air of strained dignity—which strained even further as Anwar’s grimy hand crinkled his expensively tailored jacket.

  "This is John Chang, vice president of MCT UCAS and president of MCT Seattle. He’s agreed to accompany Patti to the shelter and help her make the presentation."

  Pita nodded to herself. That was good. With the suit coming along for the ride, nobody would dare try to kill her on her way to the shelter.

  "I have?" Chang’s eyes widened. But he recovered quickly and smiled broadly at the portacam. "Yes. That’s right. I’ll be pleased to make the donation on behalf of Mitsuhama Computer Technologies."

  The pirate shifted his hand to an equally uncomfortable-looking executive who stood on the other side of Pita, a man with thinning gray hair and a pompous expression. "And this is Donald Acres, project manager of the Renraku Arcology. Like Mr. Chang, he’s agreed to join Patti in making the presentation at Street Savers. Renraku has pledged to meet Mitsuhama’s donation with one of its own, and will also be contributing thirty thousand nuyen to the shelter."

  Pita looked up. This was something new. She didn’t know who had thought of doubling the payout—but it was brilliant.

  Acres’ eyes narrowed in what was almost a wince. But he recovered as quickly as Chang had. "I’d be pleased to." he said, albeit a little stiffly.

  Anwar squatted in front of Pita and held the microphone up for her to speak. "I’m sure Patti would like to thank both corporations for their generosity. Isn’t that right, Patti?"

  Pita stammered a little, then smiled widely, for once not ashamed of her oversized canines. "I’m very happy to have this opportunity to help Street Savers, Anwar." she said, playing along. "And to work for a charity that really helps kids like me. You can come and interview me at the shelter. To see how I’m doing."

  "That I will, Patti." the pirate chuckled. "I’m sure everybody in the Underground will watch your progress avidly. You’re a celebrity, as of tonight."

  Anwar motioned the executives to one side, then did a voice-over while the mages put the finishing touches on the hermetic circle that would form a protective barrier around them while they helped her to summon the spirit. While the executives and other observers scurried into another room to watch through a thick, warded glass window, the mages showed Pita where to sit. Anwar continued his monologue, reiterating Carla’s earlier story about how the spirit was using its energy to tear gaping holes in the programming of the Matrix. But instead of dwelling on how wonderful it was that the two corps were pooling their resources to fight the thing, he focused on Pita’s role in what was about to unfold.

  It was embarrassing, really. And a little hard to believe. Pita would be a celebrity once this was over. Assuming it worked. The corporations were taking a big gamble. What if she couldn’t do it? She licked dry lips and tried to calm the fluttering in her stomach as technicians attached bio monitors to her temples, upper left chest, and wrists. Additional sensors were attached to her arm beside the burn mark, and then all was ready.

  Three of the mages positioned themselves a
t the center of the circle. They sat cross-legged, holding hands in a ring around Pita. One was a young Asian elf with a crew cut and a suit that hung sloppily on his lank frame, as if he had dressed up in his father’s clothes. The other two were a blonde human woman in a white lab coat with a bright red Mitsuhama logo over the pocket, and a Native American in a beaded leather jacket with the words "Renraku: Interface With the Best" emblazoned across the back.

  The Amerind smiled at Pita reassuringly. "Null perspiration, kid." he whispered. "Nothing to worry about." Then he, like the other two mages, snuggled welder’s goggles over his eyes.

  Pita glanced at Anwar, who was using a remote to lower his auto-adjust tripod. The round glass eye of the lens seemed to be staring at Pita, boring into her thoughts. She closed her eyes, shutting it out and concentrating. The three mages had spent the afternoon with her, running over the steps of the spell, discussing the wording of the command Pita would give the spirit when it arrived. She toyed with the idea of probing their thoughts, to make sure they hadn’t left anything out. But she was afraid that she would find that they were as nervous as she was.

  As the mages began their chant, something soft and warm settled on Pita’s lap. She opened her eyes, startled, and saw that her lap was empty. Yet if she reached down, brushed lightly with her fingertips against the air, she could feel the soft fur of a cat. Closing her eyes again, she stroked the air—and was rewarded with a vibration that set her fingertips tingling. In her mind’s eye she saw a rainbow-colored cat sitting in her lap, gazing up at her with glittering eyes of gold.

  Pita concentrated on the feel of the radiant fur beneath her fingers, and focused on Cat’s throbbing purr. It flowed up from her fingertips and along her arm, then into her chest. From there it radiated outward until her entire body was softly vibrating.