“We understand,” Nikki replies. “And we’re not asking you to rat nobody out. Just maybe take a look at a few pictures and help eliminate some people from our inquiries.”
On cue, Alice fires him a series of images from the aftermath at Habitek: six blood-spattered bodies, their twisted faces nonetheless recognisable enough to be identified by his lens.
They both see the revulsion in Trick’s eyes.
“It wasn’t any of these people.”
“Yeah, but I’m betting the ones who took you worked for the late Mr. Martinez here, right?”
He swallows. That’s a yes.
“Told you they’re not the ones you need to be scared of,” Alice says.
“Julio and everybody else in these images got killed because of something called Project Sentinel,” Nikki states. “These people mentioned it when they took you. Everyone who even heard about it has been murdered, meaning that either you’re the evil-genius mastermind behind this—which, with respect, I seriously fucking doubt—or you’re in real trouble. So I ask you again: who were they and what did you do for them?”
Trick looks freaked now, no doubt about it. Two minutes ago he thought the worst thing that could happen was these people coming back. Now he understands the true stakes.
“It was Yash. Yash and two of Julio’s psychos: Bollo and Krug.”
Nikki nods.
“That figures.”
“Who?” Alice asks.
“Yashmin Sardana,” Nikki replies. “A known associate and sometime fuck buddy of the late Mr. Martinez. She handles stolen tech. She’s normally a deft hand at cracking the protection and repurposing hardware. What did she need you for?”
Trick bristles, anxiety running through him like a current. It’s as though he fears they’re watching and listening right now.
“They had this device. I think it might have been one of the machines they link you up to for uploading memory to a mesh.”
“You think?” Nikki asks. “Ain’t you seen one?”
“No. I don’t have a mesh.”
Nikki’s eyes widen. Of all people, she’d have pegged Trick as the last to be a hold-out.
“Why not?”
“Look what I do here. I wasn’t convinced they’re secure. There’s no tech been invented that can’t be hacked, and that shit’s in your head.”
“The security is that you have to go to Neurosophy Labs and be physically connected up,” Nikki says, though as she speaks she realises she is only trying to reassure herself. Like most other folks, she never thought much about this. As long as the only people with the tech were the doctors and scientists at Neurosophy, there didn’t seem any risk. But now …
“You’re telling me somebody managed to boost one of those things?”
“If that’s what it was, yes.”
“This is the secret weapon Freitas was talking about. Not literally a weapon, but something that would give Julio a serious edge, financially.”
“He would have instantly monopolised a black market in illegal memory uploads,” says Alice.
“Except this was something else,” Trick says. “Something different. If it was simply a memory upload device, I’m sure Yash could have handled it. They needed me because I know ways to manipulate the central database. They were using this thing to connect to people, and it did that by piggybacking onto the CDB network.”
“A memory upload device that can connect to people’s lenses?” Nikki asks, though she can’t see how that would possibly work. Lenses connect to the CDB, but they are merely augmentation devices. They render data, they handle comms, they play audiovisual files.
“No. That’s what’s so fucking scary about this. It was connecting to their meshes.”
“That’s impossible,” Nikki insists, though again she is only trying to reassure herself. Even as she speaks she realises Trick is about to tell her why she’s wrong.
“It only worked in maybe one person out of five,” he says. “I noticed it was mostly tech types. Early adopters.”
“People who upgraded to the latest mesh,” Alice suggests.
“That ain’t me,” Nikki says, relieved. “I have a very rigid ain’t-broke-don’t-fix-it policy when it comes to that stuff.”
“But what should worry you is that even with the older meshes, it still established a preliminary connection. It just wouldn’t communicate fully with the device after that, like there was some kind of incompatibility.”
“But what could it be connecting to? There’s no airborne receiver on a mesh.”
“Isn’t there? What if that physical interface, and the fact you have to go to Neurosophy and lie down on a bed for six hours … What if that was misdirection to disguise the fact that meshes can be remotely connected?”
Nikki’s hand goes to her scalp involuntarily.
“You don’t have one, if I recall,” he says to Alice.
“No. I couldn’t stand the thought of any artificial processes influencing my actions.”
If she is an android, it appears the G2S unit does have a sense of humour after all.
“So what were Yash and her buddies uploading to people once you worked your magic?”
“They weren’t uploading anything. That isn’t what it did. They were controlling people.”
There is a silence in the room, enough for them to be able to hear the distant thump of music from one of the joints upstairs.
“You did not just say that.”
“Man, I wish I had a mesh so I could go and get my memory of this shit erased, but I don’t, so I’m stuck with the truth. This machine allowed them to make people do things.”
“Like, follow commands?”
“No, it looked more complex, more sophisticated, though the way they were using it sure wasn’t. It had a thousand settings and variables, looked like it would take an expert to operate it properly—however you’d define properly when you’re talking about such a technological abomination. Yash was trying to understand it, but the other two assholes were like kids messing with an instrument they knew they couldn’t play: they hit all the extremes just to see what would happen.”
“Extremes like aggression and sexual desire?” Nikki suggests.
“Exactly.”
“Klaws,” says Alice, up to speed.
“What?”
“Alice saw this straight-arrow type volunteer for a chamber-fight. It got very messy.”
“I saw it,” Trick says. “Through his eyes, his lens. Kept coming at the prize fighter no matter how many times she put him down. Eventually he jacked a scalpel from the surgeon on-site and started cutting people up.”
“I also heard about a woman in Spiral …”
“Strips off and starts fucking strangers on the bar top, yeah. They were having a high old time with that shit. They couldn’t merely control them via their meshes, they could also tap into the victims’ lenses and watch the show live. They must have got it working in some limited capacity before they came to me, because I heard one of them talk about it. He said, ‘This is so much more fun than with that pilot.’”
“I saw reports of fights and disturbances all over my Seguridad feed around that time,” Nikki says. “Just thought it was a wild Saturday night.”
Trick shakes his head gravely.
“You suggested earlier that this isn’t ‘literally’ a weapon, but it literally is. That’s why I’ve been so scared. It’s not simply that this was stolen and Julio’s people weren’t supposed to have it. Nobody is supposed to have it. And I knew that whoever created it would go to extreme lengths to prevent anyone from finding out it even exists.”
Alice sends Nikki a look. Just like Project Sentinel.
Nikki’s thoughts turn to Slovitz, the missing scientist. He worked for Neurosophy, and she’s pretty sure he’s dead too, though nobody will ever find his body. Somebody went to a lot of trouble and spent a lot of money to ensure nobody even went looking for it.
Nikki turns to Trick.
“You got like a dozen other identities, haven’t you?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, if you got someplace you can lie low, where nobody knows who you really are, I’d recommend you disappear.”
“Trust me, I’m gone.”
“But just before you leave …”
Nikki reboots her rig and sees the familiar and comforting sight of multiple aliases waiting to be exploited.
She would thank Trick, but he booked the moment he handed her back the hacked wrist unit, leaving the two of them in his workshop.
“Will it trigger some alert if I access my own profile?” she asks Alice.
“Shouldn’t do. It was suspended but I had it unfrozen. All the alerts were cancelled when we threw you in the clink.”
Nikki takes the plunge and gets a rapid illustration of how quickly Seedee forgets about you once you’re gone. In the past, if she was incommunicado for any length of time, like even a few hours of sleep, there’d be a dozen messages waiting for her when she woke up: people impatiently trying to get hold of her, all assuming she was on their phase. Right now, there is one solitary message, and it’s from nobody: sent from a monitor terminal rather than a lens.
Needing some validation that her identity hasn’t been entirely purged from people’s minds, she takes a look.
It’s a video message from Zola. That’s why it’s from a terminal. It was sent not long after Nikki left the Catacombs, maybe around the time Nikki was being thrown in a cell.
Zola looks distraught. Her face appears blotchy from tears, but as she turns her head Nikki can see that some of the discolouration is actually bruising. Her voice sounds choked, tearful.
“I heard some bad things about you, Nikki, but I figure you’re the only hope a ghost like me has. If there’s any way you still can help me, I’m begging you. They took Amber.”
HIDDEN SCARS
“We need to find Yashmin Sardana before we do anything else,” Alice insists, though she knows Nikki won’t agree. She can tell Nikki is concerned about her friend and about this semi-catatonic woman who has been abducted, but she also knows every passing second takes that shuttle closer to Heinlein.
“Did you forget the part where I told you the scientist who dumped Amber on Zola worked for Neurosophy?” Nikki replies. “And his return to Earth was faked to cover the fact that he was almost certainly murdered? This is connected.”
“I appreciate that, but Yash has to be our priority. When was that message left?”
“Around eighteen hours ago,” Nikki admits.
“So it’s a little late to drop everything and run to Zola’s aid. Amber’s gone and as you say, Slovitz is most probably dead. Yash is our last lead. We’ve got to get to her before my doppelganger does.”
Nikki nods solemnly, conceding the point.
“Okay, but if we find her, you’d best let me do the talking. I figure she’s bound to be somewhat skittish around someone of your appearance.”
“You know where she might hang out?”
“Ordinarily, sure, but she won’t be in any of her usual haunts. After what happened at Habitek, she’s got to know there’s a target on her back.”
“Do you know where she lives?”
“No, but her apartment is the last place she’ll be.”
“Nonetheless, it’s still the only logical place to start, unless you’ve got a better suggestion.”
Alice runs a search for her name, as she has privileged access to residential listings. Yash’s apartment isn’t the only result that appears, however.
“Shoot.”
“What?”
“Her name just showed up on a Seguridad alert. She was found hanged in her apartment three hours ago. Suspected suicide.”
Nikki frowns, shaking her head.
“No way she committed suicide, and no way she went back to her apartment, at least not voluntarily. Your evil twin is having to disguise the deaths now that I’m not available to take the rap.”
Alice grips a table, knuckles whitening with frustration.
“End of the line,” she says.
“There’s still Bollo and Krug,” Nikki suggests, but her tone betrays that she holds out the same hope as Alice for finding either of them alive.
“No. Let’s go and speak to your friend. Where does she live?”
“Garneau.”
That’s where the Armstrong Hotel is, the last place Alice slept, whenever that was.
“I thought you said she was a nurse, and that she lost her contract? She stays in a very upmarket neighbourhood.”
“Oh, you have no idea.”
Alice has seen some astonishing sights since her arrival on CdC, but this is the one that most jolts her perception. Seeing the Earth from space, the moon at such close range, the rooftops on the far side of a wheel when looking up through the canopy: these could transfix anyone, gazing upon views that seem to rebuff a lifetime of expectations. The Catacombs, however, have her slack-jawed and speechless, not with awe but revulsion.
Her disgust is not at the sight itself, but the lie it represents. This place is the mirror’s backing, the squalid secret beneath CdC’s reflection of a perfect society.
She feels tears welling up. She wants to conceal this from Nikki, though she is not sure why. Shame, perhaps. There is no hiding it, though. Nikki has been looking for her reaction.
“They don’t show this shit in the brochures,” she says.
“You should have taken me here first,” Alice replies. “It would have saved a lot of time.”
“Took me this long to be convinced it would make a difference. I conned Hoffman into coming here once. Told him it was a tour of a new fungus-protein farm being developed beneath Garneau. Strangely, I don’t think he ever made reference to the Catacombs in any of his reports to the FNG.”
There is a choking smell of urine and other matter as they make their way down a narrow channel. Alice glances to her right and sees that they are passing a makeshift latrine block, a communal facility opposite a bank of improvised shower stalls. Up ahead, a woman crawls out of what Nikki referred to as a nook, bidding goodbye to whoever she was visiting.
“But try not to move it,” she is saying. “And have someone come get me when the dressing needs changed.”
She notices their approach and reacts with surprise and confusion upon turning her face fully towards them, revealing bruising down once side. It confirms Zola’s identity even before her name flashes in Alice’s lens.
“Nikki?” she asks, not daring to believe it. “I heard you were in custody awaiting transportation back to Earth.”
“Rumours of my deportation have been greatly exaggerated. And the rumours of my killing spree have been exaggerated too. I’m sorry I couldn’t get here sooner. This is Alice Blake, my boss. What happened to Amber?”
Zola touches her face tenderly in automatic response to the question.
“These men came for her. Four of them. Like police but not Seguridad. Soldiers.”
“Did they know you had her?” Nikki asks.
“No. They were searching for her and I think they ended up here. They were showing her picture around, asking if people had seen her. They were smashing their way into places, trashing people’s pods. Karyl here tried to object. They broke his arm. Compound fracture.”
“Ouch.”
“I heard the disturbance and I might have found a way to smuggle her out before they got to my nook, but Amber must have recognised their voices. She panicked and was trying to flee, but this place is a labyrinth. She pretty much ran straight into them, and she went crazy. For someone who had seemed so confused, she was suddenly very clear about the threat she was facing. She started screaming again, saying ‘Don’t let them take me, they’re going to kill me. They took my baby and they’re going to kill me.’”
“They zapped her unconscious and when I tried to intervene, one of them hit me. He could have zapped me unconscious too, but he punched me to the floor instead and hit me a few more
times. A crowd had gathered, and this was for their benefit, I think.”
“Did they say anything to her, or to you?”
“Apart from asking people if they had seen Amber, they said nothing. The one who hit me barely looked me in the eye. He didn’t even seem angry. Merely calculating. Amber was so scared. I had seen her have her hysterics and her nightmares, but this was something else: this was a rational, specific fear.”
“You said before that you didn’t know what she meant when she talked about someone taking her baby,” Nikki reminds her. “Whether it was maybe something that happened on Earth before she came here. Is it possible she meant these people in particular?”
Zola’s face takes on a pallor.
“Amber never wanted to shower or change her clothes. That is, I persuaded her eventually, but I had to stand guard at the stall. She was reluctant to take anything off. I don’t know why. But it’s the reason I never saw it before.”
“Saw what?”
“After they zapped her and hit me, I was lying on the floor next to her. She had like three layers on but they rode up when they lifted her to carry her away. I saw her abdomen. She had a fresh caesarean scar. I saw enough of those on Earth to know this was only a few weeks old. She was confused and often incoherent but she wasn’t lying. She had a baby and she was damn sure these people took it.”
“Who were they?” Alice asks. “Had you ever seen them before?”
“No.”
“Where did you send the message from?” Nikki enquires.
“There’s a woman here who has a monitor terminal.”
“Take us to it.”
They negotiate the warren, Alice amazed that Zola can tell one lane from another, far less one pod. Zola crawls into one of the cluttered cubicles and emerges with the terminal. Alice sends the device some images taken from Dock Nine, showing Nikki’s would-be executioners lying unconscious on the floor.
Zola clasps a hand over her mouth, shaken by the pictures.
“That’s them, yes. Along with two others. Who are they?”
“We don’t know.”
“You have to find out. You have to get her back. She was so scared.”
Places in the Darkness Page 32
