by M J Gauntlet
“Please don’t be alarmed, Messer Grayson. As you have obviously surmised, I am working through a droid. My surrogate is quite harmless and is simply an extension of myself. She is completely under my control and allows me to interact in a more…personal, manner with my clients. But I digress, I’m sure that you have a ton of questions you wish to ask, and I probably have some answers to questions that you probably haven’t even thought of asking.” The machine motioned him to sit at a comfortable looking settee off to his right. “Please have a seat.” Zax took a seat and the android sat at the end of the couch, hands folded demurely in its lap. He couldn’t help but look around in wonderment at the office.
“So, let’s get the obvious out of the way first. I see that right now, you are trying to reconcile the discrepancy between the exterior of my office building and the opulence you see around you now,” the android said, with a wide almost mischievous smile. “Well it is really quite simple. Personally, I enjoy the more sophisticated pleasures life has to offer, but the taxes and leasing fees in the city proper can be ruinous. I find that I can indulge my foibles here in South Central Centennial at a fraction of the cost of living near the capital. No one bothers me here and with the proper defensive protections, I find it to be quite safe, even though it is a bit unsettling for those clients that must visit me in person. Fortunately, in this age of holograms and surrogate stand-ins, it is rare for a client to have to meet me in the flesh, as it were.
“Even so, it still must have cost you a pretty unit to collect and maintain your little oasis,” Zax said, looking around in awe.
“Tut, tut young man. It is but a mere bag of shells! But please, don’t think of me as being over extravagant, if you would look more closely you will observe that, save for the mahogany desk, almost everything else you see is a very clever illusion created by the use of strategically placed holographic projectors. A few of the other accoutrements around the room are real, such as the fish swimming in the fountain pool off to your right, but most of the others are simple tricks of light.”
“Er…yes…it’s all very nice, but I have a few more important questions I need to have answered,” Zaxxion said, looking just beyond the distracting physicality of the lifelike android.
“Oh…why yes. You must forgive me I do tend to rattle on about my little sanctuary. By all means young man, please ask your questions.”
“First, how did you even know that my father was dead? It had only happened just last night!” God, Zax thought to himself, has it only been less than 36 hours since his father was killed? The sharp pain of his loss was still there, without enough time to dull its impact. “How were you able to find out where I was so quickly?”
“Well Messer Grayson, the first part of your question is quite easy to answer,” the android said, leaning slightly forward towards him, revealing more cleavage of its already amply displayed boso, “as you know the LAG office keeps a strict accounting of the death of all land owners. It is important that any deeds held by the deceased citizens be returned to the office for insertion into the next lottery as soon as possible. The moment Ezekiel Grayson’s death was recorded by the police, a communication was instantly sent to the Lottery Land office and to all other parties to which he was legally associated. My office received a communique about fourteen hours ago, notifying me that he was deceased.”
“Okay,” Zax said, interrupting, “but that doesn’t explain how you located me at the Westland Hotel so quickly, especially when I even didn’t know I would be staying there.”
“Ah, well that was a tad might harder my boy, but not impossible for someone in the law enforcement loop. Don’t forget that I’m a lawyer, technically an ‘officer of the court’ and as such I have access to information that the average citizen is not privy to.
“Upon receiving notification of the death of your father, I began a system search of all law enforcement data bases for any information that might lead to your whereabouts. I realized, that it might have been possible that you had also perished in the calamity that took your father, but since the police reports made no mention of your death, I had to assume that you were still alive. It wasn’t too large a leap in reasoning to figure out that you were being held in their custody, if only just for questioning. Sure enough, your name turned up on the booking log of the eighth precinct near Last Town. For a short period of time I lost track of you; that is until a police hotel chit was used at the Westland Hotel under the name of ‘Zaxxion Grayson’. The rest was easy. I simply used my law enforcement encryption program to send you a request for consultation.”
Zax listened to her explanation and slowly began nodding his head. It seemed to make sense. He knew that he wasn’t up on how the legal system on Bright worked, and the part about the how the LAG office kept track of births and deaths sounded like something they would do.
“Any other questions?”
“Yes, I have a few more,” he replied, straightening in his seat, “in your fax you stated that my dad had ‘retained’ you handle his ‘estate’. I don’t see how he could even scratch up enough units to afford a ‘retainer’ and after the fire, there is no estate to handle. Everything we owned went up in flames the other night.”
“My dear young man, there is more than one way to pay for a retainer,” the android said, and smiled a large provocative smile as it leaned forward just a tad more.
“But before we investigate the many methods of payment of legal bills, maybe it would be best if I tell you why I have called you here. I’m sure that most of your inquires will be answered after you hear what I have to say, ok?”
“Alright, tell me why you asked me to come here,” Zax said, exasperated. The android smiled again and settled back into the couch as she prepared to answer his question.
“Very well…I suggest that you settle back and relax.
This tale will take some telling…
“About twelve years ago, your father came to my offices on the recommendation of a spaceship trader captain he had known for a long time. The captain and I had done business together in the past, and he had convinced your father to come and see me. This was right after that unfortunate incident between your father and the mob that ended up in the death of your mother. The sentiment around the planet at the time was quite nasty and he was none too sure how things would turn out with the police and the courts. Your father, Ezekiel, wanted to make sure that no matter whatever happened to him, you would have a little something to fall back on. Your father came to me and asked me to set up a trust fund, with you as the sole beneficiary. I informed him that the Imperium would indeed allow him to use his Imperial pension as the sole funding for the endowment. He also insisted that I set it up so that no one, not even himself could gain access to the account. Even you could not gain access to any funds until you reached maturity, or in the event of this death. I was to be the sole trustee of the account and was forbidden to inform you of its existence until either of those conditions were met.
“In addition to setting up the trust fund, he had me place a small number of personal items in a safety deposit box in the vault of the same bank that manages the trust fund. The fees for the box had been paid up for the next fifty ‘T’ years. If you go to the desk over there, you will find a key card in the top left-hand drawer. It has on it the name of the bank. It is keyed to your personal DNA and it will give you access to the safe deposit box when you present the proper credentials.”
Zaxxion collapsed back on the plush settee in a state of mild shock. For much of his life, he had only known his father as a debilitated drug addict, who occasionally suffered severe bouts of drug withdrawal and hallucinations. Zax thought back to all the times he would find his father Ezekiel, with his hands clasped to his head, his body wracked with so much pain that even Blitzo could not assuage it. Shame at his own thoughtlessness, now replaced the disdain that Zax had felt for his father. Slowly, he rose and went over to the antique desk and retrieved the key card, if only to convince himself that
this was all true. It was difficult for Zax to even imagine his father clear headed enough to set in motion a pecuniary fund such as this.
Zax was startled out of his musing by a feathery light touch on his right thigh. Looking up, he saw that the android had sidled up next to him and was looking in his eyes.
“Tell me Messer Grayson,” it said softly, “have I answered all of your questions?”
“Ahh…mmm…Why yes, yes ma’am, I believe you have Miss Wilkerson,” he said nervously.
“Oh, well I have a question of my own I would like you to answer.”
“Er, yes?”
“What do you think of my surrogate persona’s body? I’ve gone through a lot of models, but I think that I’ve finally gotten it right,” she cooed, with a coy smile.
Zax hesitated, but the silky voice continued.
“Oh, it is fully functional by the way, and complete down to the smallest detail. Here let me show you…” with a lilting musical laugh, it rose and began touching various clasps on the skin-tight ensemble. The outfit fell away, revealing a sumptuous, too perfect, well- proportioned naked figure. It ran its fingers over the perfectly proportioned large breasts, then trailed them down her legs, where they ended up teasingly caressing the crease between her thighs.
“You know that I am completely linked to this avatar, I can feel everything it feels, and I can do things with its servos that are simply wicked,” she said, with an evil grin.
“I’m sorry ma’am, but it doesn’t feel quite right. I’m not sure that getting…er…involved…with you is the professional thing to do, considering that you are my lawyer and all.”
“Oh pooh,” the android replied, with a pout, “don’t be so prudish. How do you think your father paid my ‘retainer’ fee, humm?” She gloated, with a throaty purr, “As I remember, he was quite satisfied with the deal, and I was very satisfied with his performance…whew… what a man!”
Zax felt a blush creeping up his skin and decided to try another tact. “It’s not that I’m being prudish, and don’t think that I’m not flattered,” he added hastily as her pout became a frown, “it’s just that…well… I hardly know you and while I’m sure you can experience anything through your proxy ma’am, may I ask a question? Why interact with the world through a proxy? Why not in the flesh?”
There was a prolonged silence and then a small snigger. “In the flesh?” she repeated and then laughed fully out loud. “In the flesh…” she repeated yet again, this time there was a note of bitterness in her voice tinged with sadness. Abruptly, the android quickly gathered up the fallen clothing and with a few deft snaps she was clothed once more. There was now a detached professional tone to her voice as she turned back to face Zaxxion.
“I’m sorry Mr. Grayson but if there are no further questions, then this consultation is at an end. I see that it is getting late. It is nearing second sunset, and this is not a neighborhood you want to be caught in after dark, so I bid you adieu. If you should think of any other inquiries you have for me, I suggest you put them in writing and fax them to me here at this address.”
Feeling a little bewildered, Zax turned towards the doors through which he had originally entered the palatial looking office. He paused for a moment, once again to look at the beautiful artificial fairyland. With a twinge of sadness, Zax realized that it had now somehow lost its innocent luster. Now, it just looked gaudy and artificial. Looking back, at the all too perfect android standing there watching him depart, he felt depressed for some reason. He retreated to the front door and reentered the distressed looking foyer. As the door lock once again loudly snapped shut behind him, he thought he could hear the faint sound of someone sobbing. Leaving the building, he never looked back as he hurried towards the gravtrain station.
In an alleyway across from the Ketchner Building, the man in the casual business suit, waited in the lengthening shadows that had begun eclipse the small niche. He was on his fifth smoke stick, as he patiently waited for the four individuals who were attempting to stealthily sneak up behind him, to get into hearing range.
Without turning around, the unremarkable looking man spoke softly into the rapidly cooling night air. “I would go back to the hole you crawled out of, if I were you.”
Startled, the four gang members abruptly stopped dead in their tracks approximately five meters from their intended target. They had been slowly sneaking up on this lone middle-aged citizen for the better part of twenty minutes, and were confident that they had been unobserved. Disconcerted, three of them looked at the fourth for direction. He was a tall, pot marked youth, wearing a malfunctioning blend suit that flickered on and off like a broken street glow lamp. Pulling up short, the youth braced himself and stepped forward with a gap-toothed smirk.
“Lookie here what we got, a smartass cit’zen in a fancy biz suit. Who the fuck do youse think you are, telling us what we can and cannot do in our territory asswipe?”
“Yeah Snarky, he got some balls on him with his fat assed self,” said a lisping voice, to the man’s left.
“C’mon, Snarky… slice’um… slice’um up good man. Then we can see what he’s got in that fancy case he’s carrying,” whined a third voice.
“What say you Trank, should I slice em up fast or do it real slow like?” Snarky said, to the fourth member of his crew.
“Sure, I’d like to hear ‘em squeal a bit Snark, but it’s getting a little cold man, so just end ‘em fast so we can get the hell off of the streets.”
All the while the street thugs were talking, their intended victim had not even turned around to face the quartet. This was something that had not gone unnoticed by the gang. They were slightly unnerved by the apparent distain their soon to be victim was showing to their threatening presence. Cowering, pleading or even wild flight they were used to, but for a victim to show utter disregard to their presence was…well it was… unnatural. Somewhere deep in their subconscious, each of them knew that they should just back away and forget about this too calm stranger. However, their collective egos made walking away an impossibility.
At an unseen signal the four suddenly sprang forward in unison, from beneath a worn blend suit the leader pulled a half meter-long molecular blade out from its special sheath. Molly blades such as this could cut through flesh, bone, even metal. With an evil grin, Snarky brought the blade swiftly down on the insolent man’s back. His grin quickly turned into a look of startled surprise, as the shimmering vicious blade met nothing but empty air. His target was no longer in front of him! He had moved so swiftly, that it looked as though he had magically teleported himself right alongside the lunging thug.
With one precise move, the seemingly overweight man locked his hands around Snarky’s wrist and with one smooth swift motion, redirected the swinging blade around and into the side of one of Snarky’s fellow gang members. The thug emitted a shrill high-pitched scream as the blade buried itself half-way through his thigh. He sank to one knee, clutching the limb, attempting to stem the copious flow of blood, which was now spurting out of a gaping wound. Still holding the hapless gang leader’s wrist in his grasp, the man slung the unfortunate criminal into the path of the trailing third assailant, who turned out to be a muddy faced girl, who was wielding an ordinary switch knife. She nimbly dogged the hulking body of her fearless leader as it continued along until he encountered a crumbling mason wall headfirst, and collapsed unconscious on the ground.
As the body flew past the waif, she made a vicious thrust at the pudgy businessman’s flank. The knife sank into left side of the victim’s suit, only to be halted halfway in by the unseen mesh that was woven into the suit’s fabric. Yanking the blade out in surprise, she saw that the knife’s steel hardened blade had only a tiny speck of blood on its tip. The man let out a mild grunt then he whirled, as nibble as cat, and faced the girl. His fingers stiffened and became a flat edged weapon, that he brought down sharply on her knife wielding wrist. There was an audible snap, followed by a tiny whimper as the knife flew from the now b
roken wristed hand, to land amidst the rubble in the alley.
Back down the alley, the heavyset fourth gang member had stopped dead in his tracks. Surveying the carnage that had befell his brethren, the gang member called Trank, decided that there was no shame in retreat, and turned on his heels to run back down the alley towards the concealing shadows, but it was too late. Seemingly from out of thin air, a compact needler appeared in the hand of their would-be victim. Firing a single shot, he hit the fleeing man in the base of his neck, killing him instantly. Calmly, the man surveyed the three remaining would be assailants. They were either moaning and squirming on the ground or unconscious. Dispassionately, he went from person to person and deposited a single shot into each gang member’s skull. The entire fracas took less than a minute. After making sure that the last gang member had been dispatched, he looked down at the carnage before him.
Damn it to hell! He thought viciously to himself. This was the last thing I needed. Looking down at his bare hands he began to swear aloud, “Shit! I must be getting sloppy.” Quickly, he reached into the inner folds of his now rumpled pseudo business suit and withdrew a pair of thin plasticine hand-sized bags. Slipping one over his left hand, he touched the red tab at the opening of the bag and it immediately began to deflate and shrink. In just a few seconds, it had formed a skin tight, second skin around his hand. Placing the second bag over his right hand, he repeated the process. Clasping his hands together, he intertwined the fingers, making sure there were no gaps between his skin and the gloves. Satisfied, he calmly pulled the bodies into the shadows and leaned against the wall in thought.
He had watched Zax leave the building about five minutes before his encounter with the hapless street thugs. He checked the readout of the electronic tracer he had planted on Zax’s jumpsuit. Looking down at the bodies then back towards the building Zax had exited, he was trying to decide whether to follow his target or confront whomever it was Zax had just visited. Smiling, he saw that the telltale was functioning perfectly and decided to see who the young man had met with, and what was said that had taken so long. Quickly crossing the empty street, he reached the building’s portico when he felt a slight twinge in his lower rib cage. It was where the young urchin had managed to knife him during the fight. The blade had barely pierced the strong mesh lining of his suit (she was stronger than she had looked) and had done no real damage. Just a minor prick really, but he remembered with a start, that the knife had flown from her hands when he had broken her wrist. It must still have some of his blood on the blade! He stopped dead still and began to furiously think. Do I have time to go back and search for it? It was getting dark. Did someone hear the fight, as brief as it was, and saw him move to the building?
