It was another murder case, this time a well-known leader of a church who overdosed on stims. She had already questioned his family and everyone else that knew him, which led to her assuming he led a double life. After pulling the camera feeds from outside his home, Ariana discovered a torrid affair with one of the members of his church. It was a sticky case, but easier than most, and she already suspected the wife.

  With Sigma now a threat, however, she would need to put the case on ice, but the man’s family needed the truth through justice, so she worked at a plan to keep going while looking into Paradise. It was nighttime, and she was exhausted. The burying of the variant along with the stress of that entire situation had worn her through, and all she could think about was bed, and getting a fresh start on investigating things tomorrow.

  She uploaded the latest details on the case to her rack and powered everything off before slipping out. Ariana Garcia was popular, but not in a good way with a department that disliked her penchant for sticking up for synths. Like Dhata before her, she was deemed effective but problematic, so while they admired her work ethic, her fellow officers treated her much like an outcast.

  There was also the shootout, which had the other Johns talking because, aside from her word, there were many unanswered questions. Ariana, however, didn’t care how she was perceived by any of them, and felt no need to make friends, ease their suspicions, or give them the time of day. In her mind this career was temporary, and she would be out in less than a year, working directly for The Unsung. It would mean her skills would be used for cases that made a difference in the grand scheme of things, and less red tape when it came to action. Not to mention The Unsung’s connections would keep her on the right side of the law.

  Walking out, she flashed her tilted smile and waved goodbye to the men and women working late, whose eyes reflected their disdain for her. She found it amusing, knowing what they thought and forcing them to acknowledge her, even when they pretended to be into their racks. Those who refused to give her their attention, she would call out their names, and when they caught her eye, she’d issue a polite good night.

  Once outside, she wanted to sprint for her vehicle and make the short trip home to her sanctuary. Paradise was on her mind, and at home, she could tap into the police database. There, she could snoop around without the fear of someone popping up in her office, or one of the multiple cameras in the building revealing the contents of her monitor.

  She didn’t run, however, but walked briskly out to the parking lot, which was empty but for a few squad cars, one that was occupied by a couple of uniformed officers. Wanting to force them to acknowledge her like the ones inside, she walked close to the vehicle, peered inside, and casually waved at them.

  As she completed the motion, it dawned on her that she didn’t know these officers, and the one in the passenger seat—a slender, long-faced man who looked to be in his thirties—waved back at her with the warmest smile, and the driver, a young blond-haired woman with elven features, shot her a look of recognition though Ariana had never seen her in her life.

  Not bothering to stop and chat, though she wanted to inquire where they were from, Ariana hurried to her car, pulled out quickly and punched the accelerator. Maybe it was the dead eyes, or the fact that she had never seen them before, but those two sent shivers down her spine, especially the blond and the way she had sized her up. Recalling a day in the past when hools had come into her house to murder her, Ariana chose not to immediately drive home, taking to the highway instead to see if she was followed.

  As she drove, she called up her captain, Sylvia Campbell, with an inquiry as to any new Johns that were assigned a vehicle. Sylvia was at dinner with her husband, and between curses and threats, told Ariana that she was being paranoid since no new officers had been to the station. This was the confirmation Ariana needed, despite the hostile delivery, so she thanked her and focused on the task at hand.

  She was being followed by two strangers posing as police officers in a vehicle that was likely stolen. Dhata had been targeted by Sigma, and she was convinced that the Johns on her tail were also variant synths. The how and why would need to wait for later, she decided, switching her focus to losing them so that she could make it back to her friends. She pulled up a map on the central console, and saw she was heading towards one of the disabled bridges spanning the water across to St. Petersburg.

  Her car was fitted with hover-tech, allowing her to cover terrain that standard vehicles could not. Knowing what she knew about standard squad cars, she thought about escaping her pursuers by jumping the biggest gap. The bridge was a chained-off relic, impossible to drive across in its condition, and while any Tampa resident would have known that, the variants kept on coming as she pushed on towards oblivion.

  Pedal to the metal and a mask of determination on her face, Ariana busted through the wooden barriers to take the bridge at top speed. There was some rubble, and several holes big enough to do a number on her pursuer’s tires, but still they persisted, weaving around them. Ariana’s car was faster, top-of-the-line, but the squad car kept on, sticking to her as she drove towards her doom.

  A dark thought came and went, sparking her anxiety. What if these were real Johns from another precinct who merely wanted to speak to her? They may not know the bridge had a hole in the middle that would send their vehicle flying into the ocean. What if they died? Would she be blamed for running and then leading them on this suicide run? But she remembered the icy death within the depth of the blonde’s eyes, and real or variant, Ariana knew it didn’t matter. She was driving for her life, and if she failed, no one would know what happened to her.

  Ahead she saw another barrier, a last warning erected to prevent vehicles from driving off the edge. Ariana engaged her hovers, forcing her vehicle to go airborne, inertia sending it over the gap. The squad car slammed into the barrier, flipped over, and plummeted like a rock, down into the ocean.

  Ariana reached below the steering wheel and touched a cold piece of metal, which unlocked the door to a hidden stashbox built into the dashboard. Inside were four holsters arranged in a column, though the only weapon available was an experimental pistol, manufactured by The Unsung.

  Though it was built to look like any other weapon, the ammunition was what made it special. Bullets that could be programmed to either shut down synthetics or destroy them. Lethal for synths and variants but would merely injure or maim a human being. Since destroying its core program and powering down every known variant they had come across, most of the guns had been returned, but Ariana kept hers, since she was still law enforcement. She ejected the clip, checked the ammunition to see what was loaded, then slammed it back home and leaned over far enough to tuck it into the small of her back.

  If they know where I work, then they know where I live, she thought, making her way over to the newly renovated Gandy Bridge. Unlike the former, this was a newly constructed, smart bridge, which would take her back to Tampa Bay without the need for jumping gaps or driving through barriers. Her nerves were on edge, and her heart was still racing from the earlier excitement, and she considered calling Dhata and Lur to let them know that she too had been attacked.

  Three digits into inputting Dhata’s number and Ariana stopped herself, and instead touched an icon on the map. It was to the zeppelin, where she decided she would spend the night. Dhata had given her access to his home in the past, and with the foiled assassination attempt, she assumed it would be safer there than her own house. On top of that, the old detective had a powerful network with dampers and defensive measures.

  That’s what I’ll do, I’ll post up there tonight, she thought. I’ll call him from there with an update on this mess I got myself into.

  She took a long route, cutting through many side streets to make sure there weren’t any more followers. Once she was sure she was clear, she drove slowly to the zeppelin, still monitoring the GPS and her rear view, suspecting every vehicle that came behind her as a potential threat. By the time she was on the old, secluded road that was near the zeppelin’s property, hers was the only vehicle within several hundred yards, and she could finally relax.

  Pulling off onto a hidden dirt track, she grabbed her sidearm and held it close to her chest. She cut the lights on her vehicle and used the moonlight to navigate the winding path through the trees, which opened up to the clearing where the zeppelin sat like a giant crab at rest.

  Ariana hoped that the defense grid would recognize her signature despite the new vehicle, which she hadn’t ever driven here before. Easing it forward past the sensors, she watched the red lights atop the posts, knowing that if they turned white, she would need to pull out immediately. They flipped to green, and she exhaled through her teeth, though she couldn’t yet relax due to seeing a strange car parked next to Lur’s Impress.

  Had she calculated wrongly? Was this another assassin waiting for Lur or Dhata to return? Did she jump the bridge and tour all of Tampa Bay, just to drop into the enemy’s hands? Slipping out of her vehicle, she dropped back into the trees, using their blackness to make her approach through the cover of night. The car was a junker, one of those old relics that car enthusiasts loved because they ran on gas and relied on air-filled tires.

  It was the type of vehicle that a hool would use when he wished to stay off the grid during transfer, which piqued her suspicion that there was in fact someone on the property waiting for them. The fact that he parked neatly next to Lur, however, hinted at someone they knew. The driver had made it past the defenses as well, which meant he was a professional with the means of bypassing their security.

  Ariana scanned the property and crept up the stairs of the zeppelin, expecting a confrontation, but again there was no evidence of anything nefarious. The doors were sealed, and the airship’s security hadn’t been tripped. In fact, the lights were pulsing as if they had stayed on standby undisturbed. She touched the handle, and the camera scanned her ICLs, unlocking and allowing her entry. Pushing it open, she hesitated just in case the invader was waiting to get the jump on her.

  “Anyone here, this is Garcia,” she announced, raising her sidearm as she moved her forefinger towards the trigger.

  “Hello, Detective,” said a voice from the kitchen, casual but with a Japanese accent.

  “Hiroshi?” Ariana said, daring to hope.

  “Yes, I am here,” he replied. “It is good to see you, my old friend.”

  “Are we safe here?” Ariana said, rushing over to hug him and plant a kiss on his cheek. She removed her coat and threw it on the couch before settling down on a stool.

  She thought the tall, handsome synth looked at home in the kitchen as he leaned against the counter, sipping on some whiskey from a snifter.

  “I see his bad habits are rubbing off on you,” Ariana said, and when he looked at her for an explanation, she pointed to his glass.

  “This didn’t come from Dhata. I drank sake from the first day I was powered on by the Arch Brain and given life. You take after him, no? A detective fighting on our side. It’s a privilege because it’s rare to meet two people like you in my lifetime.”

  “There’s more than the three of us, you know, Hiro, but they are forced to keep it private. Dhata had Jason, and now he has me. When I retire, I’ll have The Unsung, so it’s really a team effort to fight back against what’s not right. Alone, and Dhata would’ve been jailed or killed, and I wouldn’t have met him to learn about this fight. I guess it’s destiny if you believe in that sort of thing,” Ariana said.

  “I don’t, but I understand what it is you’re saying. For me, it’s been a lucky break, meeting Dhata and knowing Jason. Lurita becoming a cypher, that too was a stroke of luck, since without her, I wouldn’t be here now.” He paused. “Ariana, we are in danger.”

  “I know,” she said, staring through the mirror-like lenses over his eyes. “What do you think brought me out here, coming to the home of the world’s most paranoid man? I had two of them come to my job looking to kill me. This, right after one almost knocked the life out of Dhata. And Lur with her ViVi … who knows what she’s encountered there.”

  “Hopefully nothing since I’ve been fighting with Sigma for several days within the grid,” Hiroshi said. “He was much weaker, but as a synth, our battle was life and death for my consciousness, and he didn’t have the power or means to fully take over my mind. It has been hard, Ariana, but once I was victorious, I knew that I must come here to warn Dhata and Lur.”

  “Why not just call them? They’ve been looking for you,” Ariana said.

  I am synthetic, which makes me but a conduit for a presence as powerful as Sigma. However, the entity I encountered was a virtual copy of it, untied to a rock or mainframe of any kind. This made it little more than a specter, spooking me into compliance, and it was only when I called its bluff that I was released from the prison that had kept me silent.”

  “Well, I’m happy you’re here, Hiroshi, alive enough to be drinking liquor from Dhata’s collection. How are things in Japan?” Ariana said, still shaken from the earlier excitement.

  “Now that is one complicated story,” Hiroshi sighed. “But first, allow me to pour you a glass.”

  Chapter 25

  Secret Agent Chic

  Above a crowded plaza of people-avatars, going about their individual businesses, as they would in a market of the old world, a giant advertisement appeared, so bright that it grabbed your attention, showcasing a holographic video of a space station with tourists on it, looking so happy, you would have thought that it was Science Fiction utopia.

  The scene faded to one of the broken Earth, and more smiling people, standing at kiosks, checking in to some sort of shuttle. Then a woman’s voice came on, pleasant, but authoritative:

  Cryolex, developers of Aria, the world’s first space elevator, is now taking applications for travelers looking to work on the space station, Aurora-1. Tired of the hustle and bustle of city life? Sick of being doused in Angel’s Tears? Become an astronaut and see the stars. Contracts are available, ranging from one year to ten for those who qualify.

  Dhata’s mouth fell open. He had forgotten about this project to extend humanity beyond the Earth. Was it real? Certainly a space elevator was possible with synths as the architects, and the leaders of the new world somewhat getting along. It was a major distraction that politicians had been lobbying for, to take the world’s mind off the rubble they were forced to live in. The ad vanished, replaced by the deep blue virtual sky, violated by skyscrapers that seemed to touch the clouds.

  “So, this is your ViVi?” he mused, looking around to see if he had been the only idiot watching that ad.

  “This is part of it, yes,” Lur said, reaching for his hand. She pulled him in for a kiss before dragging him a ways through the crowd.

  She had been begging him to spend some time with her within the realm of the worldwide grid, and he had always pushed back, assuming it would be a waste of time. All the things he loved were in the real world, and he didn’t see much use in “playing” inside the grid, where the food and drink didn’t nourish, and the people weren’t who they truly were.

  Admittedly, what he was seeing now was not what he had expected. His only experience with the grid had dealt with fighting crime, and as he took in the scenes and the virtual smells, he began to understand the allure that kept his girlfriend coming back. They were inside a market that was reminiscent of a bazaar he knew in Tokyo, and though that experience too dealt with crime, it was a place he liked and felt comfortable within.

  It was cosmopolitan, which was typical of virtual playgrounds where looks were customizable. But it was the stalls and the layout of the ViVi’s marketplace that baffled him. Everything was a throwback to an earlier time, as if he had stepped into a scene from twenty years before his birth.

  Vendors called out to them as they walked through the crowd of shoppers, and all around his head, holographic ads appeared, invading his ICLs to hock their wares. It was information overload, but he kept his patience so that Lur wouldn’t feel pressured to jack them out.

  “How do you slow down the noise?” he said, forcing a smile as he looked over at her. He hoped it wouldn’t come off as a complaint, but he was just a hair short of fanning the air before his face to see if that would make them stop.

  “Oh, I forgot.” Lur smacked her forehead with the heel of her palm. “We need to get you a jammer. It’s a little pricey, but we can afford it, mi vida.”

  He made to say more, but she was already gone, leaving him in that ocean of personalities. He wondered if he stood out since his avatar was one of the default selections, and in the generic white t-shirt, jeans, and sneakers that newcomers to the ViVi were made to wear.

  “May as well figure it out now,” he said, walking over to a vacant alley between two squat buildings that bordered the plaza. Remembering the instructions that Lur had given him on pulling up his virtual heads-up display, he browsed the various menus, familiarizing himself with the interface and the various assets he had.

  “You’re such a newb, it’s actually cute,” he heard her say, and then struggled with moving the menu out of his point of view so he could see where she was.

  “I naively assumed they would make this menu system similar to my actual implant’s interface out in the world,” he said. “Does everyone start with this much money in here?”

  “Ha, no,” Lur exclaimed, reaching up to place something on his temples. “I gifted you some cash, and some clothes, which I am glad to see you wearing instead of those newbie blues. Now you look like you belong, and no advertisers driving you crazy, eh? Ready to resume our walk?”

  “I am.” He looked down at the black leather getup that he now had on. “What am I even wearing here, Lurita?”

 

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