by Ted Cross
Problem is, the general wants his chips now, today, so Lev wants them now, too.
There was a large grove of birch trees on a deserted dacha out beyond the Lenin Hills. This was Tavik’s favorite place to bury all the fucks who got in his way or disrespected him. He smiled and promised himself he’d throw the first shovelful of dirt onto Bunny’s clammy dead face before too much longer.
Two bums crouched against a wall on the second floor landing. They slumped further and mumbled something apologetic as Tavik and Bunny strode by. Vasya’s door was the last one on the right. There was little sign that any of the other apartments were inhabited.
Tavik reached for the buzzer before remembering that it never worked. He rapped on the padded metal door and glanced over at Bunny, who stood as implacable as a statue.
He knocked again, harder. “Uncle Vasya! It’s me, Tavik! Georgy’s friend, remember?”
He’d just about decided the old man wasn’t home when the lock clicked and the door swung open a crack. A rheumy eye peered out.
“Who’s that? Ah, I remember you, always running around with Georgy.” Vasya flung the door wide and held a bony hand out for Tavik to shake. Vasya was probably in his mid-fifties, but he looked older. He must have skipped some of the nanobot injections, because he actually had some gray hair on his head and stubbled cheeks. The bulbous red nose indicated a man who loved his vodka. Vasya peered with his weak eyes over Tavik’s shoulder and his head jerked up. “Oi! Who’s that with you there?”
“A friend,” Tavik said. “We’d love some tea. May we come in?”
“Where’s Georgy?”
“We’ll talk about it. Let us in, all right?”
Vasya peered at Bunny again with a doubtful expression on his face.
Tavik pointed a thumb at Bunny. “He’s harmless. Raises rabbits for a hobby. Just looks scary is all.”
The old man turned and shuffled toward a small wooden table in the living room. Tavik followed and pointed Bunny to a sofa across the room. He breathed a small sigh of relief when the big prick actually obeyed this time.
Vasya stood near the table, a confused look on his face. The room stank of alcohol and cat.
“Make some tea,” Tavik said. “Georgy told us to wait for him here.”
Vasya scratched his scalp. “Georgy said that?”
“Sure. We’ve got a job to do nearby. He said why not meet here.”
Vasya nodded. “Okay, just be a few minutes then.” He vanished into the kitchen.
Tavik sat on a wooden chair at the table and looked over at Bunny. The man had discovered Vasya’s cat, a scrawny thing, gray fur dappled with white. Bunny scooped up the cat and cradled it in his arms. The smile on his face looked genuine for the first time Tavik could recall.
Is there some way I can kill the fucker without Lev finding out it was me?
“Play with the cat, Bunny,” Tavik said. “We might be here a while.”
Moscow
Sunday, June 8, 2138
5:23 p.m. MSK
The air car flew lower than Tyoma had ever gone before in his life. As a scientist he’d always believed the work he did was for the betterment of humanity, so he was horrified at the revulsion he felt as the car drew closer to what the sky-dwellers often called The Muck.
The lowest classes were an abstraction for Tyoma, something to be discussed at a dinner party with a furrowed brow and empathy dripping from every word. His skin crawled at the thought of mingling with them. He was certain they would see him for one of the privileged sky-dwellers; they would rob him or beat him or perhaps even murder him. I should have hired some guards to accompany me. What’s the use of having so much money stashed away if I don’t use it when I need it?
The autodriver beeped to indicate it had arrived at the specified destination. Tyoma had ordered it not to park. He wanted a chance to scout the area before moving in. He knew from history vids that the statue of Yuri Dolgoruki had once been on Tverskaya Street, but during the reconstruction of the city center in the latter part of the last century, it had been relocated to Repin Park.
The air car hovered ten meters above the rubble of what had once been the Tretyakov Gallery. Tyoma could see the footbridge across the canal to Repin Park from here and the statue of Moscow’s founder standing across a gravel clearing from the statue of the painter Ilya Repin. Several people milled about in the park, but Tyoma couldn’t pick out Volodya or his captors.
He tapped the windshield and said, “Magnify this point here ten times.”
The view in the window enlarged and focused on the two statues. An elderly lady sat on a bench watching three young girls playing some game in a flower patch nearby, but there was no sign of Volodya. Tyoma scratched his head, unsure what to do next.
The area around the park was a no-fly zone, so he’d have to approach on foot. He looked at some of the pedestrians passing by on the street. They didn’t look so dangerous. A young man who had paused to look up at Tyoma’s car wore a thin suit made from clearly inferior material, but it was well kept nonetheless. Tyoma suddenly felt ridiculous about his earlier thoughts. It was a lovely sunny day out, with poplar fluff floating on a mild breeze, and everyone he could see looked to be simply enjoying the weather. Even the drably dressed kiosk vendors moved with an alacrity that Tyoma would never have imagined. Other than the rubble of the famous art museum, he couldn’t understand why ground level was called The Muck.
“Drop me off at the edge of the road here, then hover at the edge of the zone until I call you,” Tyoma said to the car.
The air car drifted down until it nearly touched the ground, and the door slid open. Tyoma climbed out and paused to think a moment. He fished in one of his coat pockets and examined the chip he withdrew to be certain it was the correct one, then hid it in a small pocket inside the liner of his coat.
“Go on,” he said. The door shut and the car hummed as it rose into the sky.
Tyoma took a deep breath and surveyed his surroundings, still half certain he would be attacked. No one seemed to be paying him any attention. He sighed and set off slowly in the direction of the park.
Are they watching me already? he wondered. Will they kill Volodya and me once they have the chips? He doubted anyone would do anything to stop an attack, and there was no sign of police anywhere about. What choice do I have? I can’t abandon Volodya.
He slowed some more as he neared the footbridge over the canal. The bridge was famous as a site where newlyweds had once come and placed locks on the small trees for luck, but this was clearly no longer the case. There were no small trees and no sign of locks.
Do people still get married? Tyoma tried to remember the last time he had been to a wedding. He scratched his goatee until he remembered: the wedding of Little Dima just after the turn of the century. It was a topic usually avoided by sky-dwellers, but virtual mates had all but killed off marriages among the wealthy. Did it affect the Muckers the same way? He knew many of the poor still clung to Orthodoxy, and the religious frowned heavily on substituting virtual reality for a true spouse.
Tyoma was about to step onto the bridge when he saw Volodya, leaning against a tree not far from Dolgoruki’s statue. Only two other men were near him, but neither of them was the man Tyoma had seen pointing a gun to Volodya’s head. They must be here somewhere.
A poplar seed floated into his eye, and Tyoma picked it out of his eyelash and set off across the bridge. Volodya stood up from the tree and raised a hand in greeting. Tyoma continued scanning the area as he approached.
“Where are they?” he said.
“Close enough,” Volodya said. “They didn’t want to scare you off.”
“It’s all I can do not to piss my pants.”
Volodya smiled wanly. “Look at us. When’s the last time we had a civilized conversation?”
“I converse politely with anyone who treats me with respect. You treat us all with disdain at the best of times.”
Tyoma shook his head. “It goes far beyond that. You never hide your contempt for me.”
“Because you fight back,” Volodya said with a grin. “You’re the only one of the group who makes life interesting.”
“You’re unbelievable. Forty years and you have never been this forthright.”
“The cold muzzle of mortality has never been shoved in my face before,” Volodya said. “Ah, here they come now.”
The man Tyoma had seen on the vid screen was crossing the bridge. A shorter man trailed after him, smoking a sim-cig.
“How did this happen?” Tyoma said.
“The big ugly one was waiting outside my apartment door.”
“I wonder why security let him through?”
Volodya shrugged. “I asked him that and he laughed at me as if I’d told the funniest joke he’d ever heard.”
The two men came to a stop a few paces away. The big one smiled and held out a meaty paw. “The chip. Let’s make this quick and easy, okay?”
“You won’t hurt us?” Tyoma asked.
“I don’t give a shit about you,” the man said. “My boss wants the chip. If you stop jawing and hand it over, you have my word we won’t hurt you.”
Tyoma glanced at Volodya, who gave a slight shrug. If there had been just the one man, Tyoma had intended to try to pass off the mind scan chip in place of the combat chip. His only concern had been whether the man would insist that one of the scientists try it out first. With two men, he couldn’t risk the trick. Even if the man tried it and killed himself, the other would be there to exact revenge. Tyoma dug out the old combat chip and placed it in the big man’s palm.
The man held the card up to his eyes to read the label, then looked at Volodya. “This isn’t the number you told me.”
“Let me see it,” Volodya said. He read the tiny writing and gave Tyoma a wry smile. “You brought the latest version. I told him two point two.”
The man plucked the card from Volodya’s hand. “You lied to me, tried to cheat me. This is the latest? Two point four?”
Volodya and Tyoma nodded together.
The man glared at them for half a minute. “How do I know you aren’t lying to me?”
“Hey,” Tyoma said. “I did think about bringing an older chip, but I couldn’t take a chance you would know the truth and hurt us. That’s the right one, I swear.”
“You try it,” the man said, holding the card out to Tyoma.
Tyoma reached for it, but the man pulled it back. “What does it do? It’s a combat chip, right? Maybe…maybe you can kill us if you use it?”
Tyoma laughed. At the man’s angry look, he held up his hands to calm him. “Sir, please. If the cards could do that, don’t you think I would have worn it to the meeting? I’d have armed myself, too, for that matter. No?”
The shorter man stepped closer. “Come on, Alexei. The boss is waiting.”
Alexei scowled at his partner. “And what do you think Viktor will do if we bring him the wrong card? Huh?” He looked back at Volodya, then stepped forward and grabbed him by the shoulder.
Volodya opened his mouth, but Alexei shook him and said, “Don’t do it if you want to live. I just need to test this thing.” He reached forward and jammed the card into Volodya’s slot.
Nothing noticeable happened.
“Well,” Alexei said. “Why doesn’t it work?”
“What did you think would happen?” Volodya asked. “It only helps out reflexes and such during combat. It also provides information. You won’t see that it works unless you try it yourself.”
“You didn’t die, at least,” Alexei said, then held out his hand. “Give it back to me.”
Volodya ejected the card and handed it over.
Alexei looked skeptical. “This is the latest version? We find out you’re lying and we’ll kill you both.”
Tyoma felt an odd compulsion to tell them about the card in his car. Could they know somehow that this card was two versions old? Would it really hurt to give them the latest version? He tried to remember what exactly had been wrong with the version two point four cards. He wavered under Alexei’s glare and was just about to speak up when Volodya spoke first.
“That’s the latest.”
“Come on,” Alexei said, pocketing the card. “Let’s go.”
“You said you’d let us go,” Tyoma said.
“I said I wouldn’t hurt you. Anyway, we’ll let you go once I know the boss is happy with what you gave us. Now shut up and come along or I’ll break your nose.”
Volodya must have felt he was a safe distance away. “You don’t need both of us, do you?”
The big gangster’s face turned red, but his partner said, “Two is dead weight. We know where they live.”
Alexei spat on the ground and wagged a finger under Volodya’s nose. “You better not have fucked with us.” He grabbed Tyoma’s arm in a steely grip and steered him up the path toward the bridge.
Tyoma was dazed by the sudden turn of events. Why leave Volodya and take him? “Please don’t hurt me,” he whispered.
“Walk faster,” Alexei said. “Call the car, Oskar.”
Moscow
Sunday, June 8, 2138
5:31 p.m. MSK
“Wait. Stop,” Zoya said. She pushed Marcus’s hand from her shoulder and slumped against the jamb of the door at the top of the stairwell. She ejected the card from her slot and held it out to Marcus. “Please…take this before I hurt someone else.”
Marcus stepped back, shaking his head. “Hurt someone? If you hadn’t done what you did, that man would have killed us without a second thought. I’m sure of it.”
Zoya slid into a crouch and rested her head against the doorframe. She let her hand drop to her side. “I can’t do this. I just want my life back the way it was.” Her eyes shone with unshed tears.
When Marcus opened his mouth to respond, she shook her head to cut him off. “No…I know how stupid that sounds. Everything is gone.”
“I…” Marcus began, then looked down at the floor for a moment before meeting Zoya’s eyes. “I lost my father and my mother. Not the way you did…but I can guess how you feel now. Give yourself time. Let’s help your uncle and your friends.” He proffered a hand.
Zoya rubbed her eyes, ignoring his hand. “I’m sorry about your parents, but everyone around me is dying. Please go away. I don’t want your help.”
Marcus’s face flushed, and he stepped into the stairwell. I’m so tired…and I’m starving. He tried to calculate the last time he had slept, but his mind wouldn’t work straight and he didn’t feel like asking his father. The idea of going to the embassy-provided apartment and sleeping for several days appealed to his exhausted mind. He looked back at the waifish girl with the ink-black hair. Despite everything, he didn’t want to leave her. He knew he had no chance with a beautiful girl like her, but if nothing else he wanted to keep seeing her. “You said every moment counted. You said they could die if you didn’t help them. If you don’t want my help, at least get up and go help them yourself.”
He began walking down the stairs, hoping that she might follow. If she did, he couldn’t hear it. «Father?»
«Yes.»
«Do you have any way of telling whether any more of these bad guys are around?»
«I can’t say for sure. There are surveillance cameras all over the place, but many of them are broken, and I can’t see everything.»
«Can you have the driver prepare the car? I don’t want to linger out in the open once I get downstairs.»
«I can…but Marcus, you should take the chip she offered. It may lead us—»
«Are you kidding me? After all that’s happened, you’re still worried about your damned body?»
&nbs
p; «Marcus.»
«No! I haven’t slept in ages. My body is literally shaking. If I leaned up against this wall here, I could fall asleep in seconds. And this poor girl back there has lost everything. I don’t want to hear any more about it.»
Marcus cut off the link to his father. He wanted to run down the stairs, but he was afraid that in this state he might stumble and break his neck. It took several minutes to wend his way down the stairs, and on the second floor landing he nearly tripped over a body lying across his path.
“Hey!” came a rasping voice, accompanied by the stench of alcohol. “Help me, friend.”
Marcus froze, thinking he had run into another gangster. The man had dried blood in his greasy hair and on his stained white undershirt. Even in normal times Marcus would have avoided such a person. He tried to gauge the jump to see if he could get by the man.
“The bitch tried to kill me,” the man said. “Take me to the hospital.”
“Call an ambulance,” Marcus said.
The man’s eyes opened wide and he laughed with a wheezing sound. “Foreigner, yes? I thought your accent was funny. Call what?”
“An ambulance.”
“Is that your word for taxi?”
“You don’t have ambulances here?” Marcus thought he might be able to leap past the man, as long as the guy didn’t reach out and grab him. “They come and take you to the hospital.”
The man groaned and put a hand to the bloody part of his head. “I think I heard of something like that. For the rich folk, right? Do I look rich to you? Please, friend. Don’t leave me here. My head’s fucked up.” His eyes widened suddenly, and he pointed past Marcus. “That’s her! That’s the bitch who did this to me.”
