by James Wake
“Humor me.”
“Still not sure. Some kind of interlinked data construct. Huge, and complicated as fuck.”
Nadia elbowed her in the ribs. “Language. Do try to display some decorum.”
“Whatever it is, it’s going to sell for millions, easy. Victory dinner!”
Curious that Tess sounded so sure without even knowing what it was yet. Nadia let it pass. “And what will you do with your share?”
“Solid. Platinum. Arm.”
“That is the tackiest possible answer.”
“You’re still too easy,” Tess said. “I don’t know, if I was smart I’d retire early. I hear Seattle is doing really okay, actually. Toronto too.”
“I thought you said Anchorage was the big winner of our generation?”
Tess waved a hand. “Nah, that’s old news. Hudson Bay is the new Gulf of Mexico.”
Nadia wasn’t sure what that meant exactly. Or what it had to do with the West Coast.
“Not going to Antarctica, though. No way,” Tess said. “I know that’s probably more your speed, but—”
“Ugh.”
“Really? Why not?” Tess said, sounding genuinely intrigued. “All that freshly thawed land, new CAZes popping up already. New frontier, baby. Keep that manifest destiny train rolling.”
They came to a stop in front of the entrance to the main exhibit hall. It announced itself as a retrospective on the world’s first Corporate Autonomy Zone. Brought to you by Auktoris Global Funds, of course.
It was their shortest path to the exit, funneling all traffic through eventually. Tess and Nadia huddled close and braved through it together.
Very few paintings in this hall. It was mostly paper-thin LCD displays and holographic projections—newsreels from decades ago, maps of the aftermath of superstorms and flooding, followed by time-lapse animations of recovery efforts. The centerpiece consisted of larger screens that showed stylized bits of headlines. Devastation as a series of superstorms continue. Federal aid funds running dry. A new conglomerate of tech giants, energy tycoons and investment firms coming together, pledging to step in and rectify matters. The inauguration of Auktoris Global Funds to officially manage the influx of relief money and oversee the rebirth of their fine city. The birth of the world’s first CAZ.
It was nothing Nadia hadn’t seen in school many times. Boring. Tess seemed more perturbed, grumbling under her breath with every step.
“I know,” Nadia said. “Awful, isn’t it?”
“You ready?”
“Whatever for?” Nadia said, tensing up.
Tess raised her free hand, the fingers twitching at a dizzying pace. Not even missing a stride, she waved her arm.
Every display in the room flickered then went dark. They lit up again, one by one, showing an assortment of much more recent news feeds.
Nadia’s jaw dropped. Masked terrorist assaults a research lab. Jewelry store robbed by brazen burglar. Suspect, still at large, eludes police and security forces. Pictures of her crouched behind a jewelry case—still fierce, still dangerous. Clips of her flying through the air on a power line, lit up by flashing red and blue.
Still hanging on Tess’s arm, she slowed to a stop. She wasn’t the only one; people all around her were looking around, confused and murmuring.
“Better?” Tess said.
“Much,” Nadia replied, still watching, enraptured. She squeezed Tess’s prosthetic and snuggled up close to her. “Very much so.”
A voice cut through the crowd, loud and angry. The pair looked over to see a tall, dark-skinned woman looking around, scanning the faces around her. Officer Jackson didn’t look much different out of uniform, although Nadia was impressed by her lovely black leather bomber jacket.
“You’re kidding me,” Tess said, ducking behind Nadia. “She’s gonna recognize us. You.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Come on. Let’s get outta here,” she said, yanking Nadia’s elbow.
“Hold on. I’m enjoying this.” Nadia bit her tongue to hold back her grin—Jackson was practically spinning in circles, the frustrated center of an increasingly worried circle of onlookers. One of them seemed to be attempting to calm her down, surely her date, a clean-cut gentleman almost as tall as she was.
“We need to go,” Tess said, low and hurried. “This isn’t safe.”
“You’re the one who caused the commotion,” Nadia said, following along all the same.
“I know. It was dumb. I just…you know.”
Nadia had a feeling she knew, but it would be so fun to pull it out of Tess. “I really don’t know. Would you care to explain?”
Tess only glared at her.
They snuck out, hidden among the confused crowd, careful not to move too quickly. The gallery led out to a main street, the city night lit up by downtown’s endless moving lights.
“I don’t understand. There’s no way she would have—” Nadia began.
An APS car pulled up to the curb, red lights flashing. Nadia and Tess kept walking, barely flinching and not even looking as two faceless officers got out and raced toward the museum.
“Sorry,” Tess said, slouching. “Sorry. That was dumb.”
Nadia tossed her head back and laughed. “I quite enjoyed it.”
A hoverbike screamed past them—more red lights flashing—coasting through the air above the traffic. Another black-clad APS officer.
“All this commotion, for moi,” Nadia said. “Quite flattering.”
“We need to get off the street. There.” Tess pointed.
A neon sign reading DVD bang hung over a small side entrance a few buildings down from the museum.
“Ugh. I haven’t been in one of these since I was a teenager,” Nadia said, letting Tess pull her in anyway.
The lobby smelled of cleaning chemicals; it was tawdry and lined with vending machines, the ticket counter just another automated kiosk. Tess swiped for both of them, still moving quickly and casting nervous glances at the door.
“Tess, when a girl says dinner and a movie,” Nadia said, “she generally means a more reputable establishment.”
“I’ll keep that in mind when I go tap that girl from the museum.”
Their room was a small cubby, barely large enough for a chaise lounge and a projector screen. Dim lights hung on cables all over the ceiling, cycling through soft pinks and purples and reds.
Nadia turned her nose up at the couch…bed, rather. It probably had been christened many times over. She mused that Tess’s prospect from the museum probably would like it here; then she immediately felt mean and petty.
The end of it was the part least likely to be contaminated. Nadia sat down, not even taking off her coat. “What are you doing?” she asked Tess, who was hovering by the open door, her pupils lit up.
“Watching a few cameras.” The flicker in her eyes died down as she closed the door. “I think we’re good. We should probably chill here for a bit.”
Nadia remained sitting straight up, arms daintily crossed so as to communicate maximum disdain for her surroundings. A menu popped up on the projector screen, a simple list of film titles.
Tess bombed onto the lounge, shaking Nadia even through the thick cushions. “Oh, cool. They have Blood Terror?” she said, flicking through the list.
“Tess, no one comes to these places to actually watch a film.”
“Says you. Oh, hey, they have A Time to Kiss too. Sweet. Wanna put that on for a bit?”
Nadia lifted an eyebrow. “That…does not sound like your usual fare.”
“Wait, what? Hold on. You’ve seen it before, right?”
Nadia gave her a look that strongly suggested she shouldn’t even have to answer that.
“Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaat?” Tess said. “Okay, okay. Strap yourself in, girl.” She grabbed Nadia’s shoulder, her prosthetic fingers light but incredibly strong, and pulled her to lie down.
Nadia awkwardly allowed this, her arms still crossed. The lights dimmed further on their own, in what she had to admit was a nice touch. The screen then went dark; after several long seconds, it lit up with simple white text.
“Doux est le dieu mais je suis encore
en agonie et loin de mes forces.”
“See? See?” Tess said, holding her hand up at the screen. “I can’t believe you haven’t seen this.”
It did look promising, but Nadia would die before she admitted that out loud. “You never answered me before.”
“Huh? About what?”
“Why did you do that in the museum?” Nadia said. “Foolish. Impulsive. Rather rash, I should say.”
Tess pawed at the back of her neck. Perhaps it was the color of the lights, but Nadia could swear there was a dusting of red on her cheeks. “Well…yeah. I just thought…you might like it. That’s all.”
“Ah,” Nadia said, hiding a very pleased smile in the dark.
“I mean, I know how full of yourself you are,” Tess said, nudging Nadia with her elbow.
“Ah,” Nadia said again, sounding a bit less pleased this time. “Well, thank you.”
“Don’t mention it.”
Tess’s arm hadn’t strayed far, the thick canvas of her jacket barely brushing the white of Nadia’s hated trench coat. Nadia lay there, hands clasped tightly in her lap, feeling something strange and altogether baffling in her chest. It took her several seconds to realize it was nervousness, and something close to fear, and that she was very much afraid to move.
Silly. Ridiculous, even.
And yet.
Chapter Ten: Iterative Design
Cracked. Shattered, almost. But still whole.
Nadia stared at her goggles. Their matte-black face was marred with dozens of fractures. She could still remember what it had looked like in her eyes after that hard landing on the roof, her HUD flickering and warping, blurring to darkness around the edges.
She ran her fingers along the cracks, the edges barely catching on the skin of her fingertips.
“You really did a number on them,” Tess said from behind her.
“How difficult will it be for you to repair?”
Tess shrugged. “Wasn’t gonna bother honestly. I have some adds I want to make. Figured I’d toss them and start fresh.”
Nadia felt a pair of glasses pushed into her free hand. She ignored them at first, letting her hand trail down farther on the mannequin to find the small melted spots on her turtleneck where red-hot steel specks had landed.
“Let me fix that real quick actually,” Tess said, bumping in front of her. She held something that looked like a glue gun, which whirred to life and excreted silver gel onto each tiny burn spot. “Little bit of graphene silk and…” She held up a second device, a small pen that sprayed dark spots of black over the silver splotches. “…some thermal protective finish. Good as new!”
It was not. The spots stood out to Nadia’s eyes—slightly darker marks of black against the uniform perfection of the turtleneck. They might as well have been plaid patches. She was already steeling herself to put together a new one from scratch.
Tess dumped her tools on a bench, then swept a large table next to it clear. “Okay, so, first version…You gonna put on your glasses or what?”
Nadia did so, blinking a few times as the room changed. Her view past the table dimmed down to a flat plane to better emphasize the projections now hovering above the table. It was a perfect 3-D scan of her turtleneck, highlighted lines following the internal wiring.
“First version,” Tess said, grabbing the projection and sliding it to the side to make room. She waved her arm up and a copy appeared, this one with goggles and a few small pieces on a belt. “Second version. And third version,” she added, tracing a curve and a dot, making a large question mark appear in the air before them.
“You have plans, surely?” Nadia said.
“Don’t you? We already have climbing gear of some kind on our add list.” Tess waved the question mark into nonexistence before pulling up a copy of version two and bringing up a list on one side. “I’m still working on electrical countermeasures.” Yellow bands appeared on each forearm of the projection with two quick pokes of her finger.
Nadia put a finger to her lips as she ran her eyes over the display. It was sort of nice, having it all laid out like this. Back in college, she’d often used outdated easels and posters, drawing things out by hand like a bunch of primitives. Certain professors didn’t believe in technology.
That too had been nice, in a way.
“I suppose I’ll take notes the next time I’m out,” Nadia said.
“Armor of some kind? Bulletproof material? That didn’t even cross your mind?”
“I thought you said graphene silk was quite robust in that respect?”
“For its weight, yeah. But that flimsy little layer you like wearing isn’t going to stop anything a cop carries.” Tess poked version three a few times, and a thicker layer of material hovered over the existing sweater. “You need some plating sewn in, especially over your vitals.”
“Tch, so vulgar,” Nadia said. “And it looks so bulky.”
“Adding it to the list,” Tess said, shaking her head. “Why do you care so much about how it looks?”
Nadia ignored the question as she rested her eyes on the goggles, these ones free of cracks. “Those still need a little something as well.”
“Like what? Signal tracking? Better zoom factor?”
“Expression,” Nadia said. “I don’t like the plain mask and goggles. They look like one of those Dome helmets. Or gimp gear.”
“Pffft! Yeah, heh, I guess it kind of does look like gimp gear.”
Nadia turned and gave her an exasperated look. “It’s my list too. You get to put in your countermeasures.”
“Which are the only reason you aren’t in prison right now. Let’s not forget.”
“Duly noted. But if I leave this whole thing up to you, I’ll end up looking like…”
Nadia trailed off, staring at the grim specter of the jeans and hoodie Tess perpetually wore. This hoodie said, “Daikon No Hime!” across the front, surrounded by nonsense kanji.
So tacky. So frumpy.
“It needs to be photogenic,” Nadia said.
“You’re so weird.”
“I’m the one who’s going to be wearing it. Design for what the client wants, dear.”
That gave Tess a thoughtful pause. “Huh. Artificial limitations. Interesting.”
* * *
“Are you all right?”
That horrible voice—or voices: men, women, children—in her ears again. Jackson didn’t even look up yet, knowing what she’d see in the screen hanging from the far wall. This gym was practically her private room. If they knew to find her here, they knew where she lived, and there was no way that was a good thing.
“Painful to watch you sometimes.”
That got Jackson to snap her eyes up to the screen, ready to put a bullet in the leering cat that stared back at her.
“You need help.”
“Ha!” She got up from the bench, willing herself not to limp, not to let her arms tremble. “I already saw what your help is like. Much appreciated.”
“I never said I’d help you catch her. I like her.”
“And I’m sure you’d be happy to help me if I hand over that little piece of evidence you want so badly?”
“Evidence. Interesting word. Should you not give it to the proper authorities?”
Jackson thought about lying, but she knew she wasn’t very good at it.
“Why did you keep it for yourself?”
She snorted in reply, shaking her arms out and taking a few deep breaths to prepare for another set. “Fuck off. I don’t need your help.”
“You can keep it. Consider it an apology.”
> The cat changed—a sad kitty now, fangs gone and replaced with an exaggerated frown, and big doe eyes overflowing with tears.
“Leave me alone,” Jackson said, turning her back to the screen.
Nothing. She waited, cracking her knuckles and running her hands down the scars on each arm, ready to bark back at whatever nonsense Cheshire threw at her.
Still nothing. Silence in her ears. She turned to see a dark, blank screen. Good. A shrug, a nod, and back to lifting, powering through the numbness in her muscles.
* * *
“I see you selected the most intimate device possible,” Nadia said, standing with her feet wide apart and her arms up.
“It’s not my fault the human body has a center of gravity near your erogenous zones,” Tess said, fiddling with the straps riding high on Nadia’s thighs.
Nadia took a deep breath, pointedly not looking down, very pointedly not paying any attention to the feeling of Tess’s prosthetic hand tightening buckles snugly below the curve of her rear.
“It might not be your fault, but you are certainly taking your time about it,” Nadia said.
“Oh my God. I managed to get mine on by myself. You’re the one being a diva about this.” Tess yanked the strap so tightly that it squeezed a sharp breath out of Nadia. “There. Comfy?”
“Not at all.” Nadia tried to relax, shifting her weight from side to side and flexing her legs. The climbing harness was a piece of fashion she had never experimented with in the past. Although she didn’t need a mirror to imagine it had a very flattering effect on her already lovely posterior.
“Make sure you have a good range of motion,” Tess said, standing up and poking the large device fixed to the belt of her own harness.
Nadia grunted. She had at least dressed for the occasion, back in her slick tight black yoga pants. She couldn’t fathom what Tess was thinking, wearing jeans under the harness.
“Okay, so…the ripline,” Tess said, reading from the light flickering in her pupils, “is a common device used by police, military, and rescue units, consisting of a weight-bearing harness combined with a powered hook attachment system.”
