Gunwitch: Rebirth

by Niall Teasdale

  Annette had picked the largest of the three as her target and the weapon flew right for him. There was a surprised, ‘Hey! What–’ and then the device detonated. The explosion itself seemed to have little effect on any of them, but it was accompanied by a blaze of light and an invisible pulse of more intense electromagnetic energy. Of the three, the biggest had the most cybernetics and they were mismatched. He had a brand-new UDF-supplied right arm which fell uselessly at his side as its electronics overloaded. His left arm was older and of the grabber variety, and it obviously had faulty wiring because its owner started twitching violently and dropped to the ground with foam coming out of his mouth.

  For the other two, things were a little easier. One had no cybernetics at all and he was just fumbling around, blinded by the flash of light. His compatriot had one UDF-supplied arm so he was fumbling around, blind, and only able to feel his way with his left hand.

  ‘What the fuck?!’ the all-natural one exclaimed.

  ‘What was that?’ the other asked. ‘Firework?’

  ‘No idea. Spyders fuckin’ about. Where’s Billy?’

  ‘Don’t know. Billy? Billy, where the–’ At which point, One Arm tripped over his fallen compatriot. ‘Huh? Think I found ’im.’

  Annette turned and started back toward her safe house. The test had definitely been a success and she saw no point in finishing her test subjects. They had not seen her and, right now, they were not seeing anything very much. And they were probably going to be pissed off about dropping their booze so she figured it was better not to wait around.

  One more thing to tick off. Cybernetic stun grenade: check. If the SAU came after her, she was going to be ready.

  ~~~

  Annette stood on the balcony outside her apartment and looked out across the darkened park. She had, on consideration, decided to treat herself to a bottle of wine someone had stolen in the enclave and was selling rather than drinking. And there was entertainment.

  The fireworks were nothing like the ones you saw over Utopia City on Founding Day, but they were loud and bright. One of the Spyders had to know what he was doing with black powder explosives. There were even a few different colours which Annette’s brain decided to reduce to ‘that’s sodium, that’s potassium…’ Sometimes she wished she could switch off the science and just appreciate the beauty. Beauty might be too strong: pretty, maybe.

  The wine had been an informative find as well as a fairly tasty one. It had come from the enclave. She was sure of that because there was still a price label on it from a shop she had passed in Brooklyn. However, it had been made in the Snow Hill Vineyard which was, apparently, in the Blackwater Community. Annette was not sure where that was – somewhere to the south, she figured – but it meant that the Long Island had trade links with other areas of the country. And there were more areas of the continent with a relatively large population. Once again, Doctor White and the Utopia City administration had lied about the state of the world. If she dug into it, how many more regions would she find the Long Islanders were trading with?

  Something for another day. For now, there was wine and the bang and flash of fireworks, and the potential for a future free of Utopia City ahead of her.

  Queens District, 26/12/83.

  Annette peered up at the grey building she had found without too much trouble. It was three hundred and fifty metres almost due north of the Factory Wall, five and a quarter kilometres east of the Brooklyn bulkhead. That seemed far enough away from Manhattan and it was in the new-build zone where the rents were low. It would probably do. She headed for the door.

  The place had an intercom on the door. That seemed good. Annette stabbed the button for the supervisor’s apartment. A second later, a voice said, ‘Yes?’

  ‘Louise Barrington. I called about the apartment.’

  The door buzzed and Annette pushed through into the lobby. There she found a woman sliding into late middle age, her grey hair wound into a tight bun. She was a little stooped, maybe from a bad back, but even fully upright, Annette doubted she would have been above chest height. She had eyes that looked through you like X-ray guns, and she used them to look Annette up and down slowly, rather like you’d examine something you were scraping off your boot. ‘I suppose I’ll show you the room then.’

  Annette figured she must have passed the inspection, but the description of her possible dwelling place did not sit so well. She had been expecting an apartment, not a room. Still, she trooped up four storeys after the woman who still had not introduced herself. The apartment was at the top, right under the roof, which could have advantages. Annette had seen a fire escape running down the side of the building into an alley. She figured a newly built building would have followed some sort of regulations on construction.

  The woman stopped at a door with ‘513’ on it and unlocked the door. Then she surprised Annette a little by waving her in first. ‘This is it. Room five one three. Services are in with the rent. We monitor them. You abuse it, you’re out. Laundry room is in the basement. You’re responsible for keeping your room clean. I’m Mrs Ledger.’ It all came out in a monotone, a combo package of indifference and dislike.

  Annette looked around the place. It did almost seem to be one room. The bed occupied one side, and there was a single armchair and a chest of drawers, and that was about it. Something which might have been described as a kitchen took up one wall, but that was basically a counter with a small oven and hob, and a fridge. There was one door inside which opened onto a small bathroom. That had a toilet, washbasin, and shower. There was a fairly small mirror over the sink. The whole place looked… worn.

  ‘You want it?’ Mrs Ledger asked, still in her flat tone. She looked worn too, now that Annette thought about it.

  ‘I have a couple of other places to look at,’ Annette replied.

  ‘Well, make a decision fast. It could go at any time.’

  ‘Of course.’ Somehow, Annette doubted there was much chance of that and there had to be something better available.

  ~~~

  Annette watched half a dozen tiny bodies skittering away into the corners of the room on thermal imaging. Cockroaches did not generate much heat, but there was just enough, especially when they moved. The dim lighting was probably designed to ensure no one with normal vision spotted them, but it had been described as ‘mood lighting.’

  ‘Thank you,’ she said to the man showing her around. He smiled far too much. ‘It’s lovely. I just have a couple more places to check out.’

  ‘Oh, you won’t find anything nicer or cleaner than this in Queens,’ the man said. In truth, the apartment was one of the bigger ones she had seen. It had a lounge and a bedroom. However, Annette was not so keen on being a co-tenant, especially when all the other occupants had more legs than she did.

  ‘I’m sure. I’ll be in touch.’

  The problem was, Annette reflected as she walked out of the building, she did not have a couple more places to try. She had been around every viable option in a day. She could try further north, but that put her closer to Black Widows Central and into the higher rent regions where people were likely to ask more questions. Well, that left her with one option.

  Annette dialled a number. ‘Mrs Ledger, this is Louise Barrington. I’d like to take that apartment.’

  Manhattan, 28/12/83.

  Annette did one last pass through her safe house before leaving for good. It was ritual more than anything; she had been through her checklist of things she was going to take and every box was ticked.

  There was one other factor. This was her last goodbye to her old life. She would walk out of this place and walk away from Annette Barrington forever. This was her last chance to second-guess herself.

  She had signed the contract that morning. Mrs Ledger had insisted on waiting for Monday and Annette had not wanted to antagonise the woman. That had made everything seem final, but there was one more opportunity to back out. Annette could simply stay where she was and…

  Excep
t that she knew she could not. Sooner or later, someone in Utopia City was going to figure out the truth and come looking for her. She had to be out of Manhattan before that happened. In Queens, she could be just one more anonymous person in a population of well over a million, and that was just in Queens. The UDF would be hunting through the whole enclave of three million people with no clue where to find her. She had to go.

  Annette headed for the door. A new life lay ahead of her. Maybe it would even be a better one.

  Part Three: Dead Tomorrow

  Queens District, the Long Island Enclave, 18/2/2117.

  Annette woke as her implant signalled her to wake. She needed no alarm clock, or any other kind of clock really, but she still checked the time on the glowing digits of the box beside her bed. It was midday. The clock said three minutes past, but she had never been able to get it to work right. It gained constantly, a fault in the electronics which she could probably have fixed, but…

  Slipping out of bed, Annette headed for the small bathroom and started running water in the shower. She always started the water before she brushed her teeth because it took that long for the hot to come through. Calling the thing a shower was somehow more appropriate than usual. Or maybe drizzle would have been better. It got her wet and took the sweat off her body before she tried to get into her corset.

  Drying herself off with one of her thin towels, Annette walked back into the main room. She had not decided whether it was a lounge or a bedroom, and it probably made no real difference. Bedroom was likely the best description since it was where she slept. She spent very little time there when she was not either trying to sleep or sleeping. Wrapping her hair in the towel, she bent to take one of her pistols from her arming pod which she kept beside the bed when she was sleeping. She preferred to have her weapons handy, just in case. Then she sat down on the edge of the bed and closed her eyes.

  Images flickered over the insides of her eyelids. There was her brother being cut down by laser fire. Annette raised her pistol, placing the barrel under her chin. There was her mother, her body torn and lying against a wall with accusatory eyes staring up at her daughter. Warning indicators appeared in her vision field and the safety locked on. Annette overrode it. There was her father, staring up at her as she pulled the trigger and put another hole in his skull. Annette’s finger tightened on the trigger.

  Her phone rang. It was very hard to ignore since her phone was in her arming pod and it signalled a call right into her brain. Her computer identified the number as Sarah’s. The girl had amazing timing. Putting her pistol down, Annette connected the call. ‘Sarah? Problem?’

  ‘No.’ The blonde was, as per usual, perky. ‘I was just checking in. Uh, Jenny’s out on a call…’

  ‘I’ll be there as soon as I can.’

  Hanging up, Annette reached for her skirt. It was time to go to work.

  ~~~

  It had been easy enough at first. She had enough money to keep going for a while, or so she thought. She had a place to stay, if not the nicest of places. She had started looking into workshop space, and that was when things had started to go downhill.

  It was going to be expensive, or expensive enough that it would drain her money supply far too fast, and getting a job was basically out of the question because she had a fake identity and no documents to prove her education. Even if she had had the documents, there was the issue of explaining how her knowledge of more or less everything was more advanced than anything she could have learned locally.

  So, she was stuck trying to find a job some other way and it seemed like there was nothing she could do. To be more precise, it seemed like no one wanted a girl with artificial eyes working for them. It had taken her about two weeks in all before she ran into Sarah and Jenny on Industrial Avenue and… Well, that had been where things really went bad, but at least she had work. It was work which required a black corset, a skirt short enough to just cover her behind, and some rather great high-heeled, very strappy boots she had found – great until she realised how cold it got in New York in winter. It was work that required that she put up with… things she never believed she would have to do to make a living. But it was work.

  And occasionally, just occasionally, she got to do something that made her life a little more worthwhile. Sometimes it was something moderately big, and sometimes it was something tiny that she hoped made a big difference, like giving a little cash to the old man on the corner.

  She did not see him every day, because she took different routes to her pitch every day, but she saw him often enough. She guessed he was in his seventies, maybe a little younger, and if you took him at face value, he could have been a lot older. His hair was actually white, his face craggy; he was as thin as a rake and compensated by wearing as many layers as he could get. He was always accompanied by a bedraggled, grey mutt who always looked interested whenever Annette walked past. Annette dropped a twenty in the man’s hat whenever she had it spare.

  The old man always responded the same way too. ‘Hey! You know I don’t need it, girly. It’s your legs keepin’ me warm these winter nights.’

  And Annette followed the ritual too. ‘Dirty old man. Chasing girls at your age. You get that dog some food, okay? He’s more skin and bones than you are.’

  ‘Haw! Mickey’ll outlive me, no problem.’

  Annette walked onto Industrial Avenue and then down to where Sarah was waiting, bouncing a little from foot to foot in the cold. She smiled brightly when she saw Annette, but Annette’s software picked up a hint of nervousness. The reason for that was probably the group of four Cyber-Kings hanging on the opposite side of the road, under the Factory Wall.

  ‘Hey, Louise,’ Sarah said. ‘Uh, they’ve been there for a while. They haven’t actually done anything…’

  ‘But they make you nervous.’

  ‘Who? Me? No, I mean I’m used to–’

  ‘That wasn’t a question. I can pick up… six different markers for nerves. Don’t worry about it. I’m here now.’ Annette scanned over the four figures. Leather jackets on three of them, denim on the last. Only one had cybernetics, an arm which looked better quality than many she had seen, but it was still obviously artificial. From the way their jackets shifted over them as they moved, all four were packing firearms. Her system classified them as a moderate threat, largely due to the numbers, but if they stayed away from her… Just to be on the safe side, she had her pod load defensive magazines.

  It seemed like it was a wasted effort because, not long after, the four men wandered off down the avenue. Sarah watched them go, her jacket pulled tight around her. ‘Not saying they were actually trouble,’ she said, ‘but I’m not sorry they’re leaving.’

  ‘No,’ Annette agreed, ‘I’m not sorry either. If any of the Widows had seen them there, things might have got ugly.’

  ‘Don’t get me wrong, your eyes are kinda cool, but I don’t think cyborgs are very pretty.’

  Annette grinned. ‘As long as my eyes are okay.’

  Sarah giggled. ‘Your eyes are awesome.’

  ~~~

  Some of Annette’s customers seemed to think the same. She lay in a rather narrow hotel bed watching Danny get dressed, and Danny seemed to like her eyes. Certainly, he liked missionary and that she took her glasses off. Then again, Danny was one of the better ones in general. He was a regular, every Thursday after work, and he treated Annette like a woman rather than a tool to be employed for a purpose. He was married; his ring was removed before he walked down the avenue looking for her, but she had noticed the mark it left. Whatever his reasons for seeking sex outside marriage, he felt just a little guilty about it. He never tried to offload any of that burden onto Annette and after all the ‘my wife doesn’t understand me’ speeches, she could really appreciate the quiet ones.

  ‘Uh, see you next week, Louise,’ Danny said.

  Annette smiled. ‘See you then, Danny. Looking forward to it.’

  She watched him drop a small bundle of bills onto the dre
sser and then head for the door. Then she checked the time, slipped out of bed, and headed for the bathroom. The Sedgewick was a disreputable sort of hotel – it had hourly rates posted over the reception desk – but the showers were better than the one she had in her apartment.

  Today was a good day. Today she could be bothered to use the shower. Some mornings, the urge to pull the trigger was a lot stronger and it was all she could do to drag herself out to the avenue so that she could make money to keep herself going for the next day, which might be good or bad. Thursdays were often good and Danny was one of the reasons for that. Fridays and Saturdays were often not so good because you never knew what drunk was going to come looking for hired tail. Sundays could be very variable, depending largely on how badly Saturday had been, but so far, she had never actually gone all the way and pulled that trigger. So far, she had always got by with the thought that she could kill herself tomorrow.

  Clean, or as clean as she was likely to get, Annette dressed and left the room. She was fairly certain that the Sedgewick had not seen a decorator since it had been put up, but that somehow seemed appropriate. Its guests rarely stayed overnight and ‘slightly dilapidated’ fitted the mood. She dropped the room key off at reception, where it was largely ignored by the bored receptionist, and headed out onto the avenue. The other reason for using the Sedgewick was proximity: it was all of a hundred metres from the pitch Annette shared with Sarah and Jenny.

  Annette had taken all of two steps before she heard the voice. ‘Hey, Louise. How are things?’

  Looking around, she spotted Officer Clement strolling toward her and smiled. Clement was also one of the good ones, even if he was a cop. ‘Oh, you know,’ Annette replied, ‘can’t complain too much. Still above ground.’