An Eighty Percent Solution (CorpGov)

by Thomas Gondolfi

Tony contained himself for the better part of the two elevator rides down from the platform by leering at his companion. Unlike the majority of men, Tony never carried a bias against girls who went for permanent body modification, not matter how far it went. Only the end result mattered. Suet’s form curved in and out at just the right places and the right amount. He didn’t care that it had been sculpted rather than grown. Her green emerald shape undulated and swayed just like real living flesh. Who cared that a diamond bit couldn’t drill through it? The tentacles in place of arms cooled his ardor just a bit, but not enough to matter.

  Getting off at the thirtieth floor, Suet’s broad hips and natural rhythm forced Tony’s eyes into a pendulum motion as she sashayed along in front of him. Tony nearly walked into her as she stopped abruptly at a door marked 30117. “We’re here,” she announced without fanfare.

  “We are? Where is here?”

  “Home,” Suet said, using an electronic keycard to gain admittance.

  Realizing his sudden lack of attention to anything but his female companion, Tony looked around and did a mental double-take. By United States codes, the thirtieth through fortieth floors were reserved for commercial and retail enterprises. Across the narrow hall from him, a door announced “Hentai Carpet Cleaning,” and the one adjacent to that read “Falcon Pewter Service.”

  He shuffled through the door into an open warehouse brightly lit by hanging fluorescent illumination. The lighting didn’t do the room justice. Only the darkness of a morgue would help this place.

  The space rose fully two stories high, filthy with dust, mis-sprayed paint, and bare ceramcrete floors bearing the mark of untold equipment dragged and dropped repeatedly. The only walls that marred the boxy space belonged to a tiny bathroom in the far corner.

  “Whose home?” His voice echoed in the mostly empty space.

  “Yours.”

  Tony couldn’t help seeing the cherry on the top of a pile of dung—a nicely appointed full-sized bed occupied the corner near the bathroom, leaving twenty meters of emptiness between. He had been bunking in a comfortable bed in his old cell in one of their quiet underground safe houses. He didn’t see this as a step up.

  “You are kidding, right?”

  “No. We make some green for you to re’ecora’e,” Suet said, closing the door behind her. She ambled over toward the bathroom and peered in. Tony didn’t need to enter the bathroom to know there’d be decade-long stains ground into all of the fixtures.

  “Does the cast of Makeover Thunder come with it?”

  “No, but I’m sure others give assis’ance if you ask.” She plopped down on the bed. Tony heard the springs squeak even from the entry. His back gave a sympathy twinge at the thought. “We have a warehouse with sofas and other junk. You can pick and choose and we bring them here.”

  Gawking his head in all directions, Tony shambled in. “Are you sure my fairy godmother isn’t a part of this deal?”

  Suet ignored the impertinent question. “OK. I have more for you. ’ime for you to become someone e’se.”

  “New identity?” he responded absently. “Maybe if I put in a false ceiling below the lighting, do some painting, toss in a few lamps and put up a few walls, I could make this place look a bit less institutional.”

  “Your new nom of guerre is An’onio Kars’. Having same firs’ name makes it har’er to mess up.”

  “Not a bad idea,” Tony said, still gawking about and visualizing changes.

  “Here’s your chip, papers to this p’ace, and some convincing papers of your his’ory; break up papers, union receip’s, passing away papers for your mother, gym membership, and even a no clothes solido of your non-gir’friend. The usua’.

  “Augus’ and her peeps scrub’ the memory p’aces an’ threw this junk back in. She’s thorough. No worry abou’ using them.”

  Tony came over to the bed and sat down next to the mass of paper and plastic that suddenly redefined his life. “No, I don’t imagine that I do.” Suddenly he felt kinship to the echoing emptiness of the home the GAM gifted him with—everything emptied and ready for a new owner. He just needed to make it a home.

  Suet grabbed him with one tentacle and pushed him to his back on the bed. Her lips locked with his almost at the same moment as he hit. Her other tentacle tore open the crotch to his pants.

  “What?” he sputtered.

  “Park your mouth. Jus’ enjoy,” she whispered into his ear as one of her appendages found its way around his genitals.

  Remarkable, one part of his brain thought, it feels soft and silky, not rough like sandpaper.

  “You think with all this biowear tha’ I no fee’ your sex?”

  “But…”

  “Hush up for once, will you?”

  Tony hushed.

  * * *

  Nanogate nibbled on a Stilton cheese puff, dreamily considering how the GAM action, once successfully completed, might boost his own standing in this council. No longer the new man, his voice would carry weight.

  “Taste Dynamics is recognized,” said the chairman.

  “I’d like to make this council aware of an action I unilaterally started which may, possibly, have some effect on our efforts against the GAM.”

  Startled, Nanogate raised his head slowly so as not to show his inner turmoil.

  “Please go on. You have the floor.”

  “Before our agreement to action, I put together a team of experts to investigate guerilla tactics and strategies to see if we could find a method to mitigate the GAM. Unfortunately, or fortunately as the case may be, I put a very sharp operator in charge of this project. I honestly forgot about the think-tank until I received notice of an intentional reduction in our firewall from the inside. Oddly, it pointed only at data that, upon quick correlation, was false.

  “It didn’t take long to find the perpetrator—the long-forgotten leader of my think-tank. In an effort to advance himself, in the face of my extremely loose reins, he chose to take unilateral action without reporting to me.

  “Before I could do anything to stop the activity, a net hack blew down the wall and scooped up the Trojan Horse.”

  Nanogate couldn’t read her body language well enough to know if she lied or not. Before or after Nanogate’s initiative? Before or after she discovered it? Key questions to how it specifically impacted him. But how to inquire without sounding aggressive or threatening?

  “And this action can jeopardize our current solution?” Nanogate asked tentatively.

  “Very doubtful. This gambit strikes at the most vulnerable aspect of a terrorist organization, not its manpower. In fact, it could heterodyne with our current efforts or,” she said looking directly at Nanogate, “in the face of the very small possibility of failure of our current efforts, this alone might end the GAM.”

  He felt a cold chill run down his spine. He needed to find out what plan was in the wind and, if necessary, sabotage it.

  “Very well then,” the moderator concluded. “I don’t think this calls for any action on our part.

  “Next order of business?”

  * * *

  Tony opened the door to 30117 wearing thick latex gloves and smelling of chlorine. Ignoring both, Sonya grabbed onto one of his arms and dragged him bodily through the barely opened door of his still-unfinished apartment.

  “Hey! I was cleaning.”

  “Time for fun instead,” she said as she waved to the rest of the GAM action committee that stood in the hall. Even the colorblind would’ve objected at the badly mismatched patterned shirts they each wore.

  “Huh?” Tony asked with startling brilliance. She motioned for Beth to take up the attack.

  “We’re in a very stressful line of work. We have to blow off steam when we can, or we go, in technical terms, crackers.”

  “Give me a second.” He stripped off his gloves and tossed them inside the apartment, locking the door behind him. “OK. So now where are we going? I hope my old sweats aren’t going to be out of place.”

 
; Christine pulled out a Hawaiian shirt that just didn’t quite match everyone else and handed it to Tony. He shrugged and swapped his chemical smelling top for one that assaulted the eyes instead.

  “Just wait and watch. Learn to trust,” Sonya said, stroking his other arm. Together with some bulky parcels, the group occupied an entire lift car. She felt rather than sensed Tony’s nervousness. “Trust,” she said again.

  “I can’t imagine what kind of fun you’d all enjoy. Couple that with those heavy bags and we have…what? Blowing up sushi bars? Feeding corpies to the lions?”

  She laughed. Christine came over and sat on Tony’s other side. Sonya managed to not quite frown.

  “No, nothing so ’ame,” Suet said from the other side of the car. “Use these bags ’o carry the hea’s of our assassina’ions.” Sonya smiled to herself.

  “Yeah, we put them on pikes around the bush telly and dance around them,” Tolly embellished.

  “Haha. Very funny.” Christine tugged his shirt. When she had his attention she swung her arm like a pendulum at the side of her body.

  “We’re all going to turn into clocks?”

  “No, but we’re almost there, so curb your curiosity just a little longer,” Colin said, kneading his thigh where one of Sonya’s poultices caused his jeans to bulge—the unfortunate results of Tony’s poor aim.

  The bus dropped the group on the fiftieth floor landing of a nondescript building in the Rose District. Suet moved to the side of Tony opposite Christine. Tony’s confusion showed on his face.

  Sonya heard the crash of pins before they could see the door. She mentally cringed when she heard country & western music twanging over the top of it all. Not her favorite music to bowl to.

  “Bowling!” Tony exclaimed as the sign proclaiming “Dance and Bowl” jumped around the corner. “We’re going bowling? I don’t have any idea how to bowl.”

  “We’ll teach you,” Sonya insisted, pushing him in the small of the back as he began to balk.

  “I’ll look like an idiot. I don’t even know how to throw the ball.”

  “Relax. None of us knew how when we started, except the Metro trio up there.”

  “Smile when you say that,” Colin said, opening the door and holding it for the rest. “Really, we will teach you and you’ll be bowling like a pro in no time.”

  “I don’t know…”

  “Besi’es. Everyone ’ooks juveni’e the firs’ ’ime.”

  “Well, I’ll be stuffed. I never figured you for being shy.”

  “I’m not, I just don’t like doing things until I figure them out.”

  “Don’t worry. This is just an excuse to have a coldie or two.”

  “Don’t listen to the aborigine,” Colin said. “This is a game of skill and finesse.”

  “Well…”

  “Skill and finesse? Lob a rock down at some sticks standing up? Lotta skill and finesse there, donger.”

  “Don’t listen to those two,” Sonya said over his shoulder. “They’ll go at each other for hours. Now come with me and we’ll get you initiated. I’m assuming since you know very little, we’ll start you with a standard ball.” The rest of their crowd broke to various tasks of their own.

  “As opposed to an advanced ball?”

  “No. As opposed to a fingertip ball. You’re a big guy with thick muscular fingers. Let’s try you out on a sixteen pounder. You know, I don’t see how you could’ve ever been a dentist. You couldn’t hope to get your fingers in a patient’s mouth.”

  “I was never a dentist. I was just in the dental design department. I actually was very talented in ergonomics of dentistry. I designed a new dental dam and increased the efficiency of ablative picks by seventeen percent.”

  “I’m sure. How about this one. Slip your ring and bird finger in. Nope, too big. This one? That should do it for your first day,” she proclaimed, giving him back his hand.

  He looked at the bowling ball like she’d just gifted him with nothing more than a big black stone. “By the way, what’s a ‘pounder?’”

  “Hah. Old terminology. Bowling ball weights were determined by how heavy or how many pounds they were. And before you ask me, a pound is around two kilos…or was it the other way around?”

  Sonya led Tony to the four lanes they rented. Frances and Jonah immediately hooked Tony in and started discussing five- versus three-step approaches, with Beth chiding them about running before Tony even crawled. Sonya left him in the capable hands of the other more proficient bowlers. While others may have time for fun, this offered another way to observe her charges interacting. She felt a deep obligation to each and every one of them to make certain the team flowed smoothly.

  She admired Tony’s offhanded way of deflecting Christine’s silent advances without being cruel. He sat close but not touching. He paid her no more attention than anyone else. Sonya couldn’t tell if he was oblivious or he took an easy care for her feelings. In either case, Christine’s smile said more than anything else. Tony’s life expectancy went up considerably, knowing what Christine did to her lovers.

  Tony brought down four pitchers of beer, two each of light and dark, plus one pitcher of soda. No one says “no” to beer. It provided an excellent lubricant for the team to help shuck off the worlds’ woes for the night.

  “My turn to get the pizza,” Andrew offered.

  “You haven’t bought pizza in three years, you cheap bastard.”

  “Fair dinkum, Andrew. Get on the bounce.”

  The more Sonya watched, the more she decided that Tony wore about him a subtle charm. She couldn’t immediately decide if it came sincerely or whether he projected it with forethought. She didn’t like witching her way into her comrades’ motivations unless necessary. Instead, she used her own instincts as she followed him even more closely.

  He deferred naturally to Frances on bowling and learned enough to at least keep the ball on the lane. He exchanged sarcastic comments with Linc. Sonya watched as he calmed down the irascible Suet after her ball, with far too much spin, leapt into the adjacent lane. He even spent some time honestly listening to Beth’s tedious and redundant ramblings about her modeling days.

  Sonya watched as her people took to him as one of their own after so little time. As one, the group jumped up and down as Tony scored his first strike. Hugs were shared all around.

  One fly swam in the ointment. Andrea failed to hide her dislike of the newcomer. He seemed confused by the antipathy, but tried hard to work around it with very limited success.

  When Tony finally worked his way through the team to herself, he asked her about her low tech lifestyle. To her surprise he honestly listened to her answers and could debate the benefits and costs. Within a few minutes Sonya realized his natural charisma even worked on her.

  “What more could one leader ask for?” she chided herself mentally. Despite her best judgment, Sonya found herself warming to him as more than just another member of the team, but as a friend as well.

  * * *

  “Is the operational tempo always this high?” Tony asked from the back of a brightly painted panel truck dubiously labeled “The Party Bus—Birthdays, Bar Mitzvahs, Weddings, and All Other Occasions.” He crouched next to a huge bomb that all but filled the 9 meter cargo bay. “This is the third attack this week.”

  “Sometimes we don’t do anything for weeks or even months,” Jackson explained from the passenger seat. “But sometimes we have only one chance at a target, like today. This one’s like a sign painted by God. No one turns off their surveillance grid without a backup.”

  “So where are we going again?” Something nagged at Tony’s subconscious about anything being this open.

  “Will you shut up back there,” Andrea barked from the driver’s seat.

  Tony didn’t understand the continuing animosity from the diminutive, red-haired thief. He’d been friendly with all the team members and gotten cautious approval even from Sonya. Andrea didn’t make any effort even for common courtesy. Tony felt he
r eyes following him more often than not in the few quiet moments the team shared since his acceptance.

  “That’s enough,” Jackson said. “I know you don’t like Tony, but that’s no reason to be rude. He did save Colin’s ass.”

  “Old man, I’m not going to get into this with you.”

  “That’s right. We have a job to do right now. Park your high horse so we can do it professionally.”

  “Yes, SIR.”

  “Sarcasm doesn’t become you, either, young woman.”

  “Seventy seconds for grid deactivation,” Tony offered.

  “We can tell time! Hell, I don’t even know why you’re along. The explosives in the back of this thing are powerful enough to bring down the whole building. All we have to do is park and walk away.”

  “I suggest we merge into the Yelser Airway for three blocks before cutting back,” Jackson offered in a feeble attempt to change the subject. “We don’t want to get there too early and be seen driving around the block.”

  “Gotcha.”

  “Now a left onto the Em-El-Kay.” Tony’s senses perked up as they rounded the corner. Memory flooded back in an instant.

  “What was that address?”

  “Fucking shut up about it. We know where to go.”

  “Goddamnit, tell me the fucking address!”

  “101 North Martin Luther King, eighty-fourth level,” came the snappy reply.

  Tony’s mind went into overdrive. “Fuck. We can’t do this. It’s a trap.”

  “What do you mean, corpie? Augustine dug this out. No one gave it to us. How much better can you get than to knock off a g’damned data center for Unified Petroleum?”

  “I tell you, it’s a trap. Even Augustine said it’d been the easiest hack she’d had in years.”

  “Talk fast,” Jackson insisted.

  “It’s a trap. UP is under the Nanogate umbrella. When I worked security, I signed off on a number of construction changes. This was one of them. The power was inadequate. Just by accident I noticed later that the space was to be converted into a day care and nursery school.”

  “Bullshit,” Andrea countered.