The Unsung Frame, page 18
part #2 of The Synth Crisis Series
“How does someone stop you, when you play like that? In this Tartarus game, I mean?” she said.
“They come at me early, break my back, and force me into a defensive position where I constantly have to catch up. I think that the only reason we have a chance is because I managed to screw up by not shooting Jordan. He was to be a patsy, stopped by a human. A dangerous synth with deadly intent for the shuttle port.”
“So, because he blew up, they are scrambling,” Lur said. “They didn’t expect those people to die.”
“Playing defensively, trying to catch up,” Dhata said. “Now is the time to press, and gain the advantage.”
He reached down inside his coat and pulled out the wallet that Robert had given him before he left. He held it up to the light and examined the craftsmanship. It was a beautiful piece of real leather, which was invaluable in this time when animals were protected.
Tacked on to the outside was a chunk of gray metal, forged into the form of a badge. The Unsung had promised him that it meant cooperation from any synth that gave him trouble. He was ready for action, real direct action. Finesse had done nothing but put them in harm’s way. He was backed by The Unsung now, and that meant everything, even a way out of jail if he crossed the line.
‡Chapter 20‡
The Maid in a Black Hat
Lur spent a worthless hour searching for Michael Lawrence before giving up on it to look into something else. She popped out of the grid and entered the Virtual Village instead, loading into her avatar and walking around to find a console. When she found one, she decided to peruse the local intranet of the virtual world. The information on this sub-grid would be extremely limited, but this could be what she needed.
In the past—before getting her own rack—she had done all of her cyphering through the Virtual Village. It hid your proxy, and for the most part your identification, so anyone that tried to see your history would have a lot of hoops to jump through. But being Fabiana made it a tad more complex, since the village worked off of implanted ID. Changing her identity meant starting over, and all of her old programs were lost.
The intranet was an older construct that had the flat aesthetic of a book. There were words and images, structured neatly into two-dimensions, and though she missed the augment of a modern grid, it took her no time to adapt. Scrolling was done by gesturing up and down, and there was highlighted text that she could touch and open.
She searched for the fraternity, Sigma Iota Nu, and was quite surprised to find that they had a house in the village. Lur highlighted the location as a destination and the system placed a green line on the ground for her to follow.
Lur’s avatar was a girl with pigtails whose short steps made click clack noises whenever she would walk. She was a little Dutch girl that she had chosen on a whim, choosing her cuteness over function. She took to the green path and started to run, watching her stamina gauge as she went. This avatar was new, and out of shape, so it took two hours to reach the Sigma house.
This virtual mansion was a Rydar model which made Lur stop short. The Rydar housing and development company had only begun building and selling homes around the year 2121. This meant that whomever had purchased the house had been an active village citizen in the last two years.
The information she had found on Michael Lawrence suggested that the frat had dissolved after he graduated. This said differently, and the virtual guards that stood out front seemed primed and ready for any intruders.
Lur logged out of her avatar to her rack’s plain desktop where a few icons were displayed. One was the kanji symbol for “Hiro” and she touched it with her finger to open it up. Inside was empty but after gesturing several times, a hidden item appeared that resembled a note.
When Lur touched the paper, she fell through darkness and landed on her back. Just like that she was fully synced, and it took her some time to realize what had happened. Inside of her right hand was a piece of origami folded in the shape of a rose. Hiroshi had given it to her back when they were after Gemini; it was an exploit for the Virtual Village that could be used to bypass walls within the world.
Suspended in the air stood an open doorway, and through its portal she saw her avatar. She crumpled up the origami, then threw it at the portal, and when it hit the doorway everything went white. Instantly she was back inside of the Virtual Village, controlling her avatar outside of the frat house. The difference now was that the house and guards were presented in transparent wireframes. Aside from the ground she could walk through it all, passing through people and walls. She walked past the armed gunmen and into the house, then found what appeared to be a closet and stepped inside.
Lur closed her eyes and logged out once again, removed Hiro’s exploit, then logged back in. She was back in the closet, and when she opened the door, the walls were solid once again.
The frat house was a mansion of sorts, with wooden panels, and with virtual sex dolls walking around aimlessly. They were dressed like French maids, in the classical sense, and were on a loop of dusting furniture and sweeping up spotless floors.
Lur tiptoed through the different rooms searching for clues until she found a library loaded with books. She was immediately distracted. It was all fascinating: literature on robotics, engineering, and technology. There were dissertations from some of the members, even notes taken in undergrad classes. She found photo albums and personal journals, but nothing on where they lived.
Eventually she found a book on the history of the fraternity but she began to worry that she had been there too long. She picked it up and walked behind the stairs, where she sat in the corner and read. There was information on the frat itself, and several pages of charter on the founding members. Conrad Hurt was in several of the photos, but his details and affiliation were omitted from the pages.
Lur tried a random member to see if his info was current, and was surprised to find a phone number and physical address. She did the same with Michael Lawrence but whoever was keeping records had not finished inputting all of his data. There was a physical address but no phone number, and it still listed him as head developer at Akiyama Koch Robotics.
“It’s a start,” she whispered, then took the book back out and placed it where she found it. As she made to turn, her eyes met one of the maids who had stopped her sweeping to regard her. Lur’s heart skipped, and her blood went cold … the maid had broken her pattern, which meant that there was a cypher controlling her now.
Lur closed her eyes quickly and logged out of the Virtual Village. She powered off the rack and pushed it away. Who could that have been? she thought, her heart a pounding bass drum in her ears. The zeppelin felt cold, and she felt vulnerable. Exactly how much had that cypher seen, and how much does he know?
0 1 0 1 0 1 0 1 0
If you walked down the same sidewalk of Fletcher Avenue that Dhata was on, you would assume that it was a stellar representation of community in the 22nd century. The synths here didn’t seem the least bit concerned that xenophobia was on the rise. There were cars of every make and model flying by at ungodly speeds, but the magnetic highway system made it impossible for them to crash.
The sun was out, and people were smiling, which did wonders to Dhata’s mood. When he was a boy this had been a low-income area, bolstered by government aid. The war had damaged a lot of families, and broken people made for a broken city.
The Unsung were right. He had always championed synths, but he liked to look at it as him championing victims. If a human was being bullied by synths, he’d step up just as fast. Those rough school days—back when these very streets helped raised him—helped him become the type of police officer he was. He couldn’t see anything negative about his career; even his decision to quit had come from a place of righteousness.
So he let his mind float back to the reality that he may end up having to kill Michael Lawrence. It was one of those things that ate at him, especially when he thought about the good that he had done. This wasn’t the same as killing Peyton or Gemini; both men had been responsible for murdering innocents. With Lawrence it wouldn’t be self-defense; it would be torture for the truth.
“What’s happening, Dhata?” he heard someone say, and he looked to see a tall man getting into a car. He barely recognized him. Probably someone from the old neighborhood, he thought. So he waved with a smile and kept on walking, hoping that they wouldn’t stop him to talk.
He felt like himself again, walking tall. These past few days of running had put him in a dark place. Then there was the ride to Miami, where he had been sure that he would die. His phone chimed, and he touched his ear, allowing the interface to hover in his field of vision. He gestured with his eyes, and answered it quickly. It was Ariana, and she was inside of her car. “Hey, what happened?” he said upon answering.
“Just wanted you to know that we got Cole. He got caught up in a sting, pimping synth Marys, and Internal Affairs is all over his ass. I sent them our surveillance, Dhata, the cameras you planted … but I told them that I was the one who set them up. They were not cool with it, let me tell you, but it helped their case, so charges will stick.”
“Have they arrested him yet?” he said, knowing the answer.
“No, but they have his information out. They’re actively looking for him.”
“Shit,” Dhata said. “Are you joking right now? Ariana, for dirty Johns, you bust them at the station. You wait till they come in to work, hang up their coat, then corner them where they can’t escape, and slap on the cuffs. Aw man, look, your life is in danger. Where are you at right now?”
“I was heading out to lunch, to—”
“You’re about to catch a bullet if you don’t wise up, fast. He knows you’re behind it, do you understand? He saw me leaving the station the day we talked, and I’m sure he knows that you were working with Jason. Cole ain’t dumb, he used to be a good detective, and I’m pretty sure he knows that you were setting up a case. Now that he’s pinched, he’s going to clean up his tracks, and he will take you out just to send a message.”
Ariana grew silent, and Dhata paced in circles. How could she be so dumb as to take it to Internal Affairs? he thought.
“Listen,” he said, “I know you’re frightened, but what you need to do right now is to make yourself scarce. I’m not talking forever, just until he’s in the cage. If you have some leave, take it fast, or lie and say you have a family emergency. I have some friends that can help to find him, whichever hole he’s in, but until he’s found, you need to go. Do you have any sick leave?”
“Yes, got it, I have some leave. I’ll work on getting out,” she said.
“Good, because hell is coming. And Ariana, if you’ve never taken anything serious in your life … This right here is serious!”
‡Chapter 21‡
Muddy Interrogation
Michael Lawrence lived in a three-level home in the prominent area of Buckhead, Atlanta. He had been retired for over a decade, and was taking full advantage of it.
Lur transferred his photo along with his address into Dhata’s implanted CPU. All he would need to do was to get him in sight, and his internal computer would do the rest to track his every move. The challenge now was to return to Atlanta and avoid AKR. After the virus incident, Dhata was skeptical about having his Buick in the city.
Though there were no reports of an investigation, he knew better than to assume he was clear. There weren’t many cars built in the style of the one he drove, and with CINI’s enhancements, it was quite unique.
He drove out to the train station, then directed the Buick to drive itself home to Lur. The trains didn’t typically check for weapons so he reached under his seat to retrieve the case. He placed his fingers on the locking mechanism and the tiny gears whirred and then slid apart as the lid popped open. Cushioned inside was his trusty revolver, which he examined and then slipped inside of his coat.
The train station was a frenzy of people going about their business. It was nerve-wracking for Dhata, who watched them all like a hawk. He knew that Cole had silently declared war against those who he perceived to be his enemies. Ariana would be a target, and so would he, but where would they strike? That was the question.
Immediately, it dawned on him that he stuck out. He alone wore a duster, and he towered above most. If someone aimed to do him harm, he wouldn’t be hard to miss.
The crowd gave way as he walked through until a cute little girl moved to block his way. She was adorable, with long silver hair and the bluest eyes he had ever seen. She looked to be about eight, and she held up her hands to beg for UCCs.
His first instinct was to place a credit chip in her palm, but the timing of her interception made him wary. Crowded station, lackluster Johns? They weren’t the ones who would come for him. He spun in time to see two men coming for him, and he threw open his coat to show them what he had. When their eyes met, he saw that they were synths, and he shook his head at them in disappointment.
His hand came up, not with the revolver, but with the wallet from The Unsung. Like sun before a vampire, the badge urged them back, and they turned around and left quietly as if nothing had occurred. As the train doors opened, he flashed a wicked smile. Tell Cole I have the ultimate trump card, you worthless tools, he thought, and boarded quickly towards the front.
While the train ride was uneventful, he couldn’t shake being on edge. A cute little girl. They used a cute little girl. It burned him up inside. The fact that they would have stabbed him bothered him more than anything else. He used synths, and those stupid hools allowed him to manipulate them like that.
When he got to Atlanta he began to wonder just how far Cole’s influence could reach. It was apparent that he had a number on his head, but did he need to watch his back in Georgia too?
As he made his way through the Atlanta train station he stayed on high alert, but unlike Tampa he didn’t stick out quite as much. Atlanta was one of the most materialistic cities in the country, so he saw a variety of dusters on men of varying heights. No cute little girls approached him, and the police weren’t pretending that he wasn’t there. It was all normal, and he was able to summon a taxi without incident.
He opted for a solo transport, a tiny thing that reminded him of a ladybug, and it drove him all the way out to Buckhead, where he was taken to a car rental company. Twenty minutes later, after an exchange of information and UCCs, he was in an older Mazda. He wanted a black car, but all they had left was a muted gray, and it had a limited CPU, which made highway driving impossible.
He called up Lur to pass the time as he looked for a place to stake out Lawrence. She answered with a yawn, as if she had been sleeping, and the sound of her voice made him smile.
“Hey, beautiful, are you feeling better?” he said.
“Beautiful? Ah, mi vida, I’m good. How are you doing just now?” she said.
He smiled at her phrasing. Her English wasn’t perfect, but it still added much to her charm. “About to find this mark and squeeze him for some questions, but listen, this is important, okay? I need you to stay out of town until I get back—”
“But why? Is there something going on?” she said.
“Jackson Cole. He has a warrant out, and he’s pretty pissed off about it. Blames me and Ariana, the woman I told you about. He’s connected, like, extremely well connected. He has synths looking to take me out. He knows who you are so don’t take any chances. They’d kidnap you, or worse.”
“Ay, they can try to do that, like I’m your weakness or something. Why don’t we just kill him, baby?”
Dhata laughed. He hadn’t expected to hear that. “You’re such a gangster’s daughter,” he said.
“Gangster’s daughter has nothing to do with this, Dhata. That man is threatening your life. Tell him to come to the zeppelin. I’ll kill him myself. We’ll see how much of a weakness I am.”
“While I admire that … damn, I do admire that. Please, stay put for now, Lurita. The tactics he’ll use will be hard to detect. He almost got me inside of the train station—”
“DHATA!” she said.
“Wait, calm down, I’m alright. That’s how I know, and why you need to be careful. Okay?”
They spoke for a time and then he parked the Mazda, content with the place that he had found. Lur wouldn’t be leaving, at least that’s what she said, and now he needed to focus on the matter at hand. Typically he would survey the place before engaging, but he was short on time, and with Cole on the attack, he needed to question Lawrence soon.
He was parked across the street in an apartment complex, where he could watch the vehicles coming and going to Lawrence’s subdivision. The houses were built on a hill, so with the aid of his ICLs he could see the front of the Lawrence home and the type of vehicle that he drove.
Stake-out tactics as a detective always bordered on the disgusting. You couldn’t break to go to the bathroom, or take a shower. He had been on stakeouts that lasted days—back when he was a detective—and it involved bottles of urine and empty packages of protein supplements.
He planned to stay until Lawrence moved, then jump on him immediately, but this was assuming the man would leave. What if I’m dealing with a hermit? he thought.
Anything was possible, but he was here, staking out the elusive man who they knew by name only. His photos showed him as a good-looking, grey-haired man with indiscernible racial origins. He had the vascular muscularity of a long distance runner, so Dhata assumed that he would eventually leave to run some miles.
It was getting late so he would be settled in, and runners favored the morning time. I’m in for a wait. I may as well start in the morning, he thought. Reclining his seat, he stretched his limbs, then locked the door and tried to relax.
He didn’t know when he had fallen asleep, but he slept soundly despite the discomfort. When he awoke it was to the alarm inside of his implant, and his mouth felt as if he’d eaten sand. Grabbing his bottled water he swished it around, swallowed, and then tore open a protein packet.
