Prometheus road, p.17
Prometheus Road, page 17
The other four shades thumped against the roof somewhere behind Tempest as she awkwardly dropped over the edge of the roof, clinging to the spider line, her eyes shut so tight that she saw popping lights behind her eyelids. Inching her way down the line, holding her breath, her toes finally touched the floor of the balcony, and she sighed with relief. When she opened her eyes, she was facing Rose’s back and a heavy blue door.
Rose gripped the doorknob. “It’s locked.”
Tempest gasped. “What? Why would anyone lock a door way up here?” She reached past Rose’s arm and rattled the doorknob herself.
“I don’t think it was meant to keep us out. They probably don’t want any tourists sneaking into the tower and falling off the balcony.”
“Now what?” Tempest looked toward the roof, already dreading the climb back up.
“Plan B,” said Rose. She pointed over the edge of the balcony.
Tempest’s eyes widened as she took the briefest glance over the balcony railing, then stared at Rose.
“You’re insane. I’m not going that way.”
Rose chuckled as she coiled her spider line and leaned on the railing to look down. “There’s another balcony about fifty feet down and over a bit. All we have to do is climb down there and start swinging until we can reach the balcony.”
“Not me,” Tempest said, trying the doorknob again. The door was sealed so tight that it didn’t even rattle when she shook the knob. “I won’t do it. Until a few minutes ago, I’d never even been this high off the ground before. Now you’ve got me flying around over the city on threads I can hardly see on my way to steal an old painting that might get me captured. I could be sent back to the rehab facility.”
Rose smirked at her. “You want to climb up on the roof and head back on your own? It’s kind of tricky to do it all by yourself, but you’re clever; you’ve got a pretty good chance of surviving the trip.”
Tempest looked doubtful as she eyed the roof again. “Well . . .”
“Unless you have a key to this door, your only choice is down.”
“I could wait here for you.” Tempest said, nodding with an anxious smile. When she saw the look Rose gave her in return, she quietly checked the spider line’s connection to her harness, then tapped her finger on the friction brake that would slow her descent down the tower. “How do you use this thing again?”
It took three minutes for Tempest to make her way down the side of the tower, breathing hard despite the minimal effort required, trying not to look down. Sweat dripped into her eyes as she hung in her harness and glanced sideways at the lower balcony that was now at her level. About fifteen feet away, it refused to move any closer as Tempest tried to will it nearer with her mind. Failing that, she knew she’d have to start swinging the way that Rose had described. She looked up, and Rose waved at her from her safe vantage point on the upper balcony. Pushing off against the tower wall, she swayed back and forth until she got more momentum, then tried to walk the wall as Rose had shown her. After she took a few running steps along the wall, she lost her footing and hung like a deadweight in the harness again, but she continued to swing back and forth until the balcony was within reach. The wind whistled in her ears. The bright casino lights swirled around her, and she occasionally crossed the beam of a spotlight, reminding her how high she was on the tower and how exposed she was if any outside security guards bothered to look up.
On her first grab, Tempest missed the railing, scraping her arm against the tower wall as she swung backward in her wide arc, then stopped and rushed back toward her target. She grabbed at the railing again, missed, and thumped against it with her stomach, knocking the wind out of her, but she still managed to hook the railing with her armpits as she slid backward. She felt dizzy, her stomach hurt, and she wanted to go home. Grunting, she hauled herself up and over the railing, then dropped in a heap on the cold concrete floor of the balcony. She rolled over on her back, looked up, and saw a pair of booted feet falling toward her face. She twisted to her side and covered her head with her arms as the occupant of the boots thumped onto the balcony beside her.
“I wouldn’t call you a natural climber,” Rose said, coiling her spider line, “but you’re learning. Try to land on your feet instead of your stomach or your head.”
Groaning, Tempest rolled up to a sitting position and rubbed her aching ribs. She briefly considered pushing Rose over the railing, but the urge passed when Rose easily opened the balcony door. Rose stepped through the doorway onto a spiral staircase that circled a vertical tube of white light that rose the entire length of the tower. She beckoned to Tempest. “Hurry. Degas and the others will be landing on you in a minute if you don’t get in here quick.”
Tempest anxiously looked up to see if more booted feet were coming her way, then stood and staggered onto the staircase. Rose pointed down the shaft. “Don’t worry if you see glowing faces on our way down; they’re part of the effects for the tourists. When you’re on the ground and you look up at the little windows in the tower, the floating heads are lit from behind by the light tube to make them look like ghosts.”
“Why?”
Rose shrugged. “This is Las Vegas. Nothing makes sense here.”
Tempest scampered down the spiral staircase behind Rose, trying not to let her get too far ahead. Behind her, she heard more booted feet following them, presumably Degas and his friends. Although her stomach hurt, she was happy to be indoors again. When they passed the base of the giant vertical light tube and continued their descent into the darker depths of the stairwell, Tempest began to wonder if they’d ever stop. “How far are we going?”
“Down two more levels in the subbasements. That’s why we came in through the tower.”
Tempest didn’t understand, but before she could ask another question they had reached the bottom of the stairwell. She stopped beside Rose, and the four men following them jogged past into the dimly lighted corridor, vanishing around a curve.
“They’ll create distractions, but we won’t have time to dally,” Rose said, slipping out of her black coveralls. “Take off your clothes.”
Tempest raised an eyebrow, then remembered the formal dress she’d brought along.
“You’re going to see some strange things in this casino,” Rose cautioned her as she wriggled into a short red dress that glowed from within. “This is one of the few nanotech buildings in town. The nanoforms were introduced for remodeling in Las Vegas just before The Uplift in the western wastelands. The AIs love to play with that stuff, so they added some enhancements. Reality looks a little different in this place. Things change in front of your eyes, and it might take some getting used to, okay?”
“Sure.” Tempest adjusted the snug dress on her body and stuffed her coveralls into the bag. She was familiar with the stories about the maintenance nanoforms that came at night in Marinwood, and what happened to the rare person who came in contact with them, so she felt wary of entering a building where they were so active. Rose didn’t seem concerned, and that made Tempest feel more confident. As she thought about it, Tempest realized she was more worried about the nanoborg security guards recognizing her. She didn’t want a return trip to the rehab facility.
Rose handed her a flat, palm-sized container that matched one she was holding. “This is the good stuff. Powder your nose.”
Tempest responded with a puzzled frown and watched as Rose demonstrated, opening the case to reveal a soft sponge resting on a powdery interior next to a small mirror inside the lid. Studying her face in the mirror, Rose applied the powder to her face. Almost instantly, Rose’s face narrowed—her lips thinned, her cheeks paled and drew in, her nose became slightly longer and more pointed. Rose smiled.
“Nanopowder makeup. For that high-fashion look.”
“High fashion?”
“Never mind. Just use it. The smart powder analyzes your facial structure and reacts with your personal chemistry to make subtle alterations to your appearance. No pattern recognition scan is going to identify you for about four hours, then you’ll look like your old self again unless you use the powder again. If you don’t like the result, you can try a different powder.”
When she applied the powder, Tempest gasped as she felt the skin and muscles of her face shifting. Her lips became wider and redder, her skin tone darkened, and she felt as if her face was being pulled back and up toward her ears and scalp, widening her eyes and forehead. When her face stabilized, she didn’t even recognize herself in the little mirror. There was no pain, only a pleasant tingling in her face. Stunned, she followed Rose into a service elevator.
When they stepped out of a service corridor onto the casino floor, Tempest gasped and leaned against the wall to steady herself. The sound was almost deafening, hitting her in waves of clanging steel, bells, buzzers, thumping music, and shouting voices. Rows of machines blinking with bright lights bounced and jiggled on the red-carpeted floor as if they were alive, interspersed with long tables where gamblers were hunched over in deep concentration on their games. As her gaze wandered, the things that startled Tempest the most were the crowds of people, the hypnotic patterns of the lights, and the armored knights in combat on the stage in the center of the casino.
“Where did all these people come from?” Tempest asked. “The streets are so quiet. On our way here, I didn’t see anyone moving around.”
Rose approached a white-haired old woman seated in front of a bulky machine, her eyes locked on the blinking lights and spinning wheels behind little windows as she dropped silver coins into a slot. Whenever she dropped a coin in, the machine made happy, encouraging noises. She wore a heavy black coat, and her gaze never left the face of the machine as Rose stopped beside her. Rose winked at Tempest, then shoved the old woman out of the chair. Silver coins jingled in the cup she held in her left hand, but none of them were spilled when she hit the carpet.
Tempest gasped and stooped over to help the old woman off the floor, but the woman didn’t seem upset at all. Her eyes were still locked on the slot machine while she easily stood up and sat in the chair again.
Tempest glared at Rose. “What did you do that for?”
“You try it.”
“No, thanks.”
“She’s not real,” Rose said, shoving her out of the chair again with the same result as before. Tempest watched the old woman sit down again without complaint. “Of course she’s real. I can see her quite clearly.”
“And I can shove her out of this chair,” Rose said, doing it again.
“Stop it!” Tempest growled, stepping between Rose and the seated woman. She put her hand on the woman’s shoulder to steady her just in case Rose tried it again.
“She doesn’t mind. She was built in a nanovat, just like most of the people here, and she’s more like this slot machine than she is like us. This is her purpose in life: to sit in this chair and play this game.” Rose stepped back as the machine honked and dinged several times, then disgorged a pile of silver coins into the bottom tray where the old woman happily retrieved them and put them in her cup. When the machine’s activity returned to normal, the woman continued dropping the coins into the slot as before.
“You see?”
Tempest bent over and stared into the woman’s face, but she never acknowledged Tempest’s presence.
“Hello?”
“The slot machine players don’t talk,” Rose said. “If you want conversation, you have to try the drunks at the bar until you find one that’s interactive. Unless you find a real person, of course. And they usually talk too much.”
Tempest studied the other gamblers at the long row of slot machines, noting the variety of clothing and appearances. “Why would anyone go to all this trouble to make fake people?”
“The AIs started it. Like I said, this whole town is a big behavioral study laboratory for them. But the nanotech casinos have lives of their own, and they’ve developed their own entertainments in addition to what the Dominion wanted. Once the casinos became self-aware, they got lonely. They were built to handle huge crowds, and they got bored as the flow of tourists dwindled over time, so they built gamblers of their own to play the games. The Dominion provided the behavioral models for the gambler programming, and they were happy to help provide the right atmosphere for their continuing studies. Half the time, you can’t tell the difference between the fake people and the real gamblers in this place. I’m not even sure there is much of a difference.”
“This is amazing,” Tempest said, watching a man dressed in a cowboy outfit covered in sequins throw a pair of dice the length of a gaming table. The admiring crowd laughed and applauded.
“It’s kind of creepy if you ask me. The Dominion used holograms of gamblers in the beginning, or so I’m told. They were thrilled when the casinos themselves came up with this idea. And this is just the beginning.”
Tempest followed Rose past an area where a floating sign proclaimed: “Galaxy Slots. The loosest slots in town!” Hovering above the rows of star-studded slot machines was an enormous spiral galaxy of winking stars that slowly rotated in a translucent black cloud. Tempest thought it looked better than the real thing that she’d learned about in school.
They stopped in front of the raised stage where two knights, armor-plated from head to toe, staggered around while swinging at each other with heavy broadswords. The silver suits of armor looked identical, except that one knight wore a black plume atop his helm while the other one wore a white plume. Whenever a sword hit one of the knights, the armor rang as the knight turned to deflect the blow. The crowd of spectators in front of the stage area, many of them holding drinks, cheered whenever one of the knights smashed into the other with his sword, but they didn’t seem to discriminate as to which knight was their favorite.
“Seems pretty realistic, doesn’t it?” Rose asked.
Tempest watched the two knights carefully, studying their moves. They both looked tired and unsteady after fighting for so long. “I don’t know. I guess so.”
A flourish of trumpets caught the attention of the two knights. The white knight stood a little straighter, lowering his sword enough for the black knight to lunge forward for a final attack. A moment later, Tempest jumped back as the white knight’s helm clanked to the ground by her feet. Startled blue eyes looked out through the helm’s visor as it rolled to a stop and stared up at the ceiling. The crowd cheered wildly, clapping and stomping their feet while the black knight took a bow and clanked off the stage.
“Tell me he’s not real,” Tempest said, grabbing Rose’s arm.
“He’s not bleeding, is he?”
Tempest relaxed her grip. Rose had a point. She saw a trickle of blue liquid leaking onto the carpet from the base of the helmet, but that was all. A squat cleaning machine with a blinking red light on its head popped out of a hatch beneath the stage. It darted forward to vacuum up the blue liquid, then tossed the knight’s head into a bucket on its back. With an air of self-satisfaction, the cleaning machine returned to its home at a more stately pace, maneuvering around the feet of spectators moving away from the stage. While she watched, Tempest thought one of the knight’s eyes winked at her before the cleaning machine finally disappeared through the hatch.
Tempest took a deep breath, then glanced at Rose. “That was really creepy.”
“You’ll get used to it.”
“Where’s the Picasso?” Tempest asked, frowning as she tried to make out anything that might look like normal, nonanimated art on display. “I want to get out of here.”
Rose beckoned for Tempest to follow her through a winding maze of slot machines and gaming tables. As they walked through a realistic rain forest zone, where the slot machines were disguised as rocks and plants decorated with blinking lights, Tempest felt her dress sticking to her skin. She tried to focus on Rose to control her feeling of audiovisual overload. Her head rang in time with the bells of the slot machines, and she felt the pull of sexy male voices imploring her to come and play with their buttons and levers. Following Rose around a craps table where gamblers happily slapped each other’s backs, Tempest stumbled when her feet sank into soft, warm sand. To her right, soft waves steadily rolled in from an artificial ocean that carried the scents of salt and fish on a gentle breeze. Rose turned again, striding straight into the oncoming waves, but neither she nor Tempest got wet as they continued walking and the waves rose higher while the seafloor descended. The “water” moved around Tempest’s body with a gentle pressure, but her clothing and hair were unaffected, and she continued to walk on soft sand while the water rose over their heads. She held her breath at first, starting to panic while colorful schools of tropical fish darted around her head, then realized she could breathe normally. Ahead of them, the giant figure of the sea god Poseidon stood in a massive open clamshell, surrounded by admiring half-naked mermaids who stroked his bulging muscles. His beard shook as he pointed his enormous trident at Tempest, and his voice boomed out in welcome, “Arr! Avast, me hearties! Welcome to the sunken empire of Atlantis! Yo-ho-ho!” Poseidon leered at Tempest when she strolled past, and she had the eerie feeling that he was real.
They continued down the gentle slope of a narrow cobblestone street into a sunken Mediterranean city. White masonry walls rose on both sides of the short street until they stepped into the open city square, which was once again covered in drifts of sand. Rose pointed at a group of wrecked wooden ships tilted on the seafloor with long streams of gold coins flowing from their broken holds. Banks of blinking slot machines, shaped and colored like huge tropical fish, surrounded the sunken hulks. “Spanish galleons from the armada, or at least that’s the idea. Can you see what’s hanging from the bow of the first one?”
