I stood casually and walked into the little kitchenette and retrieved a bottle of water from my fridge. The coolness was pleasant in my hand. I returned and cracked the top loosening the cap before handing it to her. She took a few tentative sips. When they failed to slake her throat she took a larger drink from the bottle. “Thank you.” She said in a small voice. I just nodded in return maintaining the cool business like manner. It was starting to chafe.

  Having regained her composure she took a few more light sips from the bottle while looking around at my office. “You have a nice place. All the units we had put bids on were much smaller than this but had enough room for a child.” She paused and took a few more sips from the water bottle. I could tell that for her this was the core sum of all her efforts. Everything she had done in her life was just to have the ability to make this one small dream come true. I had no words of comfort for her. She wasn’t the only one whose dreams were on hold.

  “After we lost the last unit we had out on bid, my brother calls me.” She said softly. “He tells me he has a new job.” She smiled tightly. “He tells me that he has been sponsored for a technician, first grade, certification. He has received a signing bonus. That he is transferring a small portion of it to me for all I have done for him.” I watched and waited for her to continue. She had grown quiet and withdrawn. “After all I had done for him.” she repeated in disgust.

  “I was thrilled for him, of course.” She said hastily. The twinge of regret hanging over her head. Ashamed that she was thinking ill of her deeply troubled brother. “But something nagged at me. It was simply too good to be true. I tried to inquire more about this new job but he shut me down. Soon our contact became shorter and shorter. Eventually the only contact we had was by node call. When I did hear from him he was almost nonsensical.” She shook her head the shame still present in her body language. I could do nothing but listen. My job was not to console her but to discover what happened to her brother that turned him into a killer.

  “He started talking about some incident in the past involving our parents. When I didn’t remember the incident he would get angry. Then I wouldn’t hear from him for days.” She finished the contents of the bottle and held on tight to it. The crackling sound of the plastic audible as she unconsciously squeezed the bottle flat.

  “Soon it was the only thing he would talk about. The last time I heard from him he said he had found a solution. That he was going to make everything right again.” She looked me dead in the eyes for the first time since she walked through my door. Her gaze was almost withering. “Then I see on the news that he attempted to assassinate some man from Sector A. The vid caught some of his rant and I just didn’t know who that was. Because it wasn’t my brother.”

  I shifted in my seat uncomfortably. A life’s story, no matter how abbreviated, is still long. I held her gaze more to show I was unfazed by her intensity to reinforce my persona of hardened runner than because I really wanted too. I much preferred the clean surgical snippets of a Runs details to this. Eventually she looked away and I continued to look on unconcerned. “I hope that helps.” She said unconvinced.

  I nodded and looked away in thought. It did give me a thread to pull. “It gives me a starting point.” I replied. “If you don’t mind, could you leave me with his home address?” She nodded and sent me her brother’s contact information via the q-cloud. I would look at it later. I stood and Valentina stood with me. I guess our meeting was over. I showed her to the door and gave her a few crypto for cab fare. I guess she didn’t have anything else to say as she stayed quiet all the way out of my office. I guess she was not expecting to hear from me again now that she had fulfilled her part. But I was a man of my word. If I did find something I would let her know.

  I moved back to my desk to ponder what she had just dropped in my lap. There were a lot of irrelevant facts about her life but the one thing that stood out to me was the brother’s new job. It was almost unheard of for a street rat to get a sponsorship like that. Sponsorships usually went to someone in a company that was already working at that level or to someone hired out of Sprawl who had a matching cert from that Sprawls certification authority.

  But even before that a Technician, first grade, is not exactly rare. Not like a Class Six frame operator. Then the signing bonus? Either someone had found a diamond in the rough and was locking him in for more or he was being set up at the start as a patsy. I sighed and leaned back in my chair massaging my temples with one hand. This was beginning to sound like the start of a bad detective novel.

  I dropped my hand and shook my head gently. I really didn’t have time for this but I really was left no choice in the matter. I had a lead, a very small lead, but still a lead. I needed more information. I groaned a little. There was only one place I was going to get anything with what little I had. I guess it was time to go to a brothel.

  Case Entry 10

  It was already mid afternoon getting into the evening by the time I left my office. The sun had already started its slow creep beyond the horizon casting the sprawl in the coppery tones of dying light. The street was as densely packed as it ever was. I watched as pedestrians instinctively wove a complex wave sign. The bodies of the crowd moving and shifting in time to every departure and merger. Seeing my own opportunity to merge I stepped off the step and started in the direction of the hyperloop.

  A notice appeared in my display swimming amongst the torrent of other A.R. illusions that swam about me. It seemed that some food trucks had set up shop just a few blocks in the right direction, so I bee-lined it to them. I hadn’t had anything to eat all day not counting the hot chocolate nutrient slug I had this morning. It was not much in the way of calories and I could already feel the cyber shakes coming on.

  I passed several streets leaving my rustic pre-war restored block and entering the Sprawl proper with all of its giant gleaming buildings made of 3d printed glass, plastic, and steel. I turned a corner continuing my way to the street fare when I caught something from the corner of my eye that set off every instinct I had. Something was wrong and it made my skin crawl with the knowledge. I felt an annoying itch growing rapidly between my shoulderblades as I imagined the unknown drawing a bead on me.

  Rounding another corner I took my time looking at the reflections in the window as I passed, just good tradecraft. I almost missed it but I caught sight of something that didn’t belong. The up sectors don’t have many genuinely disheveled looking people. Most of the homeless get pushed by the Sector’s King and the local businesses down sector. All of them end up in Sector D or E eventually.

  So when you see such an individual, like I had just done, walking with casual purpose through a Sector like B it should set off every internal alarm you have. I made several more twists and turns just to make sure that this vagabond was following me. He was. I was left to conclude that it was someone from down sector who wanted to keep tabs. My guess was Tommy, I did shoot him, he was bound to hold a grudge.

  I came around the corner at a clip pace and headed straight toward the nearest food truck. I really didn’t care what was on offer and got in line. From the corner of my eye it seemed my tail had wandered off. It was fine, I would lose him soon enough. The line moved and I took a step. I was greeted with a heads up display of the menu. It seemed this truck specialized in American diner fusion, whatever the hell that meant.

  What I knew about America, which admittedly is limited, was it once was a nation of promise if you believe the histories, which I didn’t. It was an upstart of a nation that got a few quick and dirty punches during a few big wars. While the world was reeling with a bloody nose it declared itself the leader of the free world. By time the Neuromancers came around the Federalists were sitting on a tinder of unresolved social issues just waiting to be ignited. The resulting bonfire lasted over a century taking the world with it and allowing the Corporations to rise in their place.

  The line moved slowly and I eyed the other trucks each as busy as the one I waited on. Still no sign of my tail. I could only hope he would get bored and wonder off. I took a deep breath and let the stress of the wait remain where it was. I was not in any real danger out in the open like this. Only a fool would start something in public on Onyx territory. Onyx Executioners are not really known for their understanding.

  I took a step as the line advanced. Then another and another until it was my turn to order. The line waiting was to give the patron the true authentic food truck experience. I hated it; I wanted desperately to just node order my meal and pick it up when it was done. I was greeted by an over friendly young androgynous teen dressed in some gaudy red, white, and blue get up that made me sick to look at. I sighed and ordered the clone dog fully loaded, smothered and covered, with chili spiced algae chips.

  Fifthteen minutes later, another authentic food truck experience I could have done without, I munched my food as I walked noting my tail had returned. The clone meat was vat fresh, you only get that little pleasant acidic aftertaste on the fresh stuff. My destination was the Towers. It was a cesspool by Sector B standards but to the rats it was an obtainable paradise encarnet. The Towers was a set of two twenty something story buildings that had been converted into retail and service space. In Sector B if you wanted to find anything, I mean anything at all, the Towers wasn’t a bad place to start. If you couldn’t find it there you would find someone who would point you in the right direction.

  I came up on the hyperloop station. I quickly finished off my hotdog and the algae chips tossing the wrappers in the nearest bin before threading, to the wonderful sound of horns, the slow crawling gridlock of ground cars that laced the street. I was pleased to note that my tail failed to follow stuck between staying with me or revealing himself.

  I worked my way down the steps to the platform and boarded a car that had just pulled up. I paid, partially out of habit, for a personal run preventing other passengers from hopping a lift. I winced as I saw the crypto deducted from my ever shrinking account. I would not be doing this again until my fortunes improved but I did have a tail to lose. Nestled in my acceleration couch the car shot off pushing me firmly into the enveloping foam. Exiting the station my car merged with others in the tube. My display said that the trip was going to take about fifteen minutes.

  With a little time on my hands I finally looked at the contact info Valentina had given me on her brother. He was living at Peachtree Towers MegaBlock. It was an arcology, a city within a city. Imagine a city block that has been built up with three hundred plus floors of labyrinth halls filled with cheap apartments and enough civil services and shops to make it a mini vertical Sprawl. It was by no means unique. Many such structures existed out on the sector edge of B and C.

  I did a cursory review of Peachtree’s history and all I could find was some blurb about two Onyx Executioners getting trapped inside and having to gut the gang stupid enough to try it. Executioners are some nasty business to get on the wrong side of. They are the judge, jury, and executioners of Onyx Securities. The ones that get burnt out usually turn to running. They make great muscle.

  While I was pondering this I remembered the Klaus brothers: Sven, Olaf, and Hans. As former executioners, I had worked with them in the past. I wondered briefly if they might be free. They were a bit peculiar but were solid in the field and beggars can’t be choosers. If I can ever get a job together they just might be worth a call.

  My car exited the tube and pulled into the Tower’s basement station. The Tower sat on a large underground complex that had once been used for ground vehicles. A few centuries later after some neglect and renovation was now a huge multi story bazaar. I got out of the car and did a quick self check of my equipment. Pickpockets would be out in force. I patted my Taurus remembering why I carried her out in the open. She should keep all but the most brazen thief at bay.

  I walked with purpose into the stalls arrayed out in rows forming a grid. Most of the merchandise on this level and below was stolen and in the process of being fenced. This is where many a good fence got their start. The Towers was close enough to Sector C that it had a reliable supply of goods and those willing to sell it. You could get a good deal if you knew how to haggle. Crypto was not the only coin accepted here unlike the upper levels. If I had wanted I could have probably bought out a stall for the cost of my Taurus. But such a thought was blasphemous and I banished it from my mind.

  My goal lay up on the nineteenth floor and I would have to take the elevator, which was just a stone’s throw away. However, one does not come to the Towers and not peruse the wares. It’s just rude, it sets you out as someone who doesn’t belong. That, makes you a mark and free game. I wasn’t carrying much but what I did have with me was at least worth something to someone. With an easy smile on my lips and a confident stride I set off to find something worth wasting a few hours on.

  When I finally reached the elevator some hour or so later I had managed to trade a few splat rounds for a piece of tech that I traded up for some other piece of junk that I had used to get a custom upper receiver for an old 1911. Several centuries after its creation the Springfield 1911 is still one of the most dependable and well loved weapons in the known worlds. It’s like the Shakespeare of hand cannons.

  Given a few more hours and I probably could trade this up for something of real value. I didn’t have that kind of time on my hands. I could pocket the receiver but I had no use for it. It had served its purpose in showing my cred and it seemed a shame to waste it. I sighed testing its weight in my hand. I had time for one more trade.

  I looked around the few stalls that had made their home by the elevator. I didn’t want to wander too far from my objective. Nothing really caught my eye; just when I was about to give up I saw a mom and pop stall just outside where I had been looking. A small percentage of stalls are regulars that make their living selling handcrafted goods and trinkets. Many live in their stalls and barter for everything they need. By the look of the stall this was just such a couple.

  I approached and was taken back by the craftsmanship of the jewelry that was laid out and dangled by hooks. Each was made from scrap metal that had been meticulously shaped and polished. I smiled at the elderly woman that was tending the stall front. I could hear, with some straining, the hammer sounds of the craftsman in the back.

  Following proper Towers etiquette I placed the receiver on the offering plate to be appraised as I shopped for what I wanted. The woman’s eyes went wide. The receiver was worth a few hundred crypto on the open market but in the bazaar it would be worth ten times its weight in food and medicine. Essentially I had just offered a month’s worth of survival.

  I looked through the pieces on offer. Each was lovingly made but nothing was really speaking to me. I looked past the woman to some of the pieces that have been kept to the back. No doubt what they considered the most valuable of the collection; worth keeping out of the hands of thieves. I pointed and the woman’s eyes and head followed. Before I had even asked to look she bussled over and took several of the more intricate pieces and brought them for inspection.

  My eyes settled on a necklace half hidden by the other pieces she had brought. It was crafted from discarded brass shell casings. The casings had been expertly worked then soldered back together to create the face of a predatory cat. I lost count of the different caliber shells that had been used to create the subtle color shifting stripes, the raised brow and cheek ridges, or the hammered shaped ears.

  I indicated to the necklace and the woman smiled and pulled it from the small pile and laid it out. The .45 cal primers that made up the eyes just pulled me in. The craftsman had used a process to darken them into blackened orbs. It was not something I would wear but it was beautiful. It was something a cock sure Razorgirl would enjoy. I smiled and nodded my head pleased with the piece. It was just the right kind of gift to help me rope in some new talent. This had been worth the effort.

  The elderly woman was about to show me another piece when I gave her the hand sign for good trade. Her eyes widened at my generosity but she quickly, if not a little greedily, gave me the accept sign. I nodded my thanks to her and pocketed my prize. Some might have called my generosity foolish, but in truth the necklace had only cost me a few crypto for the splat rounds.

  Capitalism had just played out in its purest form. I traded something I had no need for to obtain something I deemed of higher value that I could use. I was perfectly fine with the deal as I know the shop owner had been. And that was enough for me.

  I made my way back to the elevator and pushed the call button for Tower Two. My goal lay up on the nineteenth floor. The brothel, Ogygia, took up the top four floors. The first three were the brothel proper while the twentieth was living space for the employees. The elevator announced its arrival with an ancient garbled fuzz infused ding. I turned and entered the car as soon as the doors opened and allowed me access. I pressed the door closed button upon entering in a vain attempt to keep anyone from following. I guess I just happened to get lucky as no one did.

  I scanned the panel in front of me looking for my desired floor. As expected eighteen through twenty were disabled. I reached into my coat and took out a small card holder and removed a slender black and gold card. I placed it upon a chip reader above the button panel. As I did so the eighteenth and nineteenth buttons lit up accepting my v.i.p access card. I pressed and held the button for floor nineteen. I braced and felt the sharp pinch as a blood sample was taken to verify my identity. I heard the doors lock and the elevator started moving.

 

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44