Neural Wraith, page 27
But humans did. And a lot of police officers, firefighters, and other emergency service personnel had died in the riots forty years ago. Countless more had passed away in the decades since, and they were all remembered here. The thousands of grave markers stood testament to the brutal cost of an event that Nick had never experienced but always heard about.
If Hammond was visiting here, then there was only one reason for it. Especially given the dark look on his face when he’d spoken about the riots and his father.
The shining sun on the grave markers seemed wrong to Nick. He didn’t have a reason to visit any graves. But it was always overcast or raining in movies.
Hammond wandered along the marble path after a good twenty minutes. He still wore his usual clothes and looked like a grizzled 20th century detective. That made him even more out of place than the weather.
He stopped at the gate and looked at Nick with a dull look. “Figures that you’d be able to convince them to tell you where I was.”
“They were less willing than usual,” Nick admitted. “I just finished a major raid on the NLF and wanted to talk about some of the evidence. Care to lend an ear?”
CHAPTER 21
“Just did your first raid, huh?” Hammond clapped Nick on the shoulder. “You move fast, but I guess you do have these magic tin cans with you. Sure, we can talk. But I’m clocked off, so let’s grab some drinks.”
“We clock off?”
“Nah, but it’s important to keep straight in my head. Helps to set your own boundaries in this crazy world,” Hammond said.
He then led them to the old services building. Specifically, to a bar on the top floor, on the very edge of one of the wings. Nick let out a whistle.
“This must be a pricey place,” he said.
Hammond snorted. “Hell no. People prefer their shiny bars, shopping malls, and trendy food-sex districts. This place survives because it pays no labor costs, and some rich folks have enough money to float their own watering hole.”
“Food-sex district?” Nick had to hear this.
“I went to a place in the doll red-light district for an investigation once. It had foie gras and blowjobs on the same menu.”
“Ah.” Nick had suspected as much.
They entered the bar. The Archangels stood guard in the hall outside, which was basically abandoned. Most of the building was either empty or full of places that only opened for dinner.
If Nick had to describe the atmosphere, it would be in the same terms he described Hammond with. There was a dark, smoky feeling. The tables had lights along their rims, and dim floor lighting separated walkways from tables, but that was it outside the bar.
Behind the bar stood a single doll. She wore an old-fashioned black-vested bartending uniform, but didn’t move an inch. The bar itself was built from ornate wood, and a couple hundred bottles covered every surface.
“You’ll like this place,” Hammond said. “There’s no Altnet here. Even the doll needs to be ordered from verbally. Like this. Kate, two big beers.”
The doll abruptly turned her head toward Hammond. “Yes, detective.” Then she saw Nick. “And you, sir?”
Nick opened his mouth to answer, but Hammond cut across him.
“No, Kate. Two beers. One for me, one for him,” the older detective said.
Kate tilted her head. After a moment, she nodded. “Understood, detective. Two beers for you. Then another for you, and one for him.”
Nick tried not to laugh, while Hammond ran a hand over his face.
“This doll thinks it’s a real smartass sometimes,” he said, then pointed at Kate. “No, Kate. Just two beers. That’s all. One beer for me, one for him. Understand?”
She blinked. After a very long second, she nodded. “Yes, detective.”
Then she grabbed two tall glasses and began pouring beers. Hammond waved the two of them to another table.
“She’ll carry them over. While she’s usually in power-saving mode, she at least does proper table service, unlike half the cheap fucking bars in this city,” he said.
The booths along the walls had cushioned benches that looked like they had seen better days. Hammond ignored those and instead settled atop a stiff stool. Many long nights allowed Nick to join him without worrying about discomfort.
“I’m surprised you’re a regular at a doll bar,” Nick said.
“Feh. It’s the only place open at this time here, the drinks aren’t that expensive, and the range is pretty good. Only thing I need to worry about is Kate fucking up the orders.” He glared at the doll, who was presently looking between two full pints of beer and the taps with a concerned expression. “She’s going to pour four beers, I guaran-fucking-tee it.”
“Does she do that often? Even if she’s an older model, I’ve never heard of memory malfunctioning like this.”
The older detective snorted. “The clumsiness is programmed into her. She’s a Japanese model, and apparently incompetent robot bartenders are a thing over there. The regulars here think she’s a hoot.”
Nick refused to admit that he agreed with the regulars. There was a Japanese-style bar tucked between the alleyways near his apartment, and it was operated by a strange pair of Japanese dolls. Their esoteric behaviors kept him coming back, especially as it was a fairly quiet place.
Although he’d never worked out what the deal with the frog was.
After a few more seconds, Kate picked up the beers and tottered over to them. Nick and Hammond watched her in silence. She looked at Hammond intently and placed both beers in front of him.
Hammond slid one in front of Nick without saying a word.
“Two more beers, detective?” she asked.
“Maybe later,” he grunted.
Kate nodded, then tottered back behind the bar and stopped moving.
“Should’ve bet money,” Nick said.
“Ah, shut up.” Hammond took a long swig of his beer. “So. What’s the big raid? You find the NLF HQ?”
“No. But we found a couple of major operations. They still have safe houses. Taking out their explosives factory and a Cipher operation seems pretty good, though,” Nick said.
Hammond nodded in agreement, and his eyebrows shot up. “In a few days, yeah. The Archangels seemed pretty active. I figured the military would get ‘em first, to be honest. So, what’s the big deal?”
Nick sighed, then bought some time to think by burying his mouth in his own beer.
There didn’t seem to be any easy way to go about this. Hammond seemed sharp and experienced, while Nick was the opposite when it came to questioning.
But that wasn’t why Nick was here. The truth was that he wanted to know more about Hammond. Travis had given him little to go on, but the idea that this burned out detective might be behind the entire scheme seemed too insane to be true.
“They were using RTM factories. Well, factories leased to RTM by Jun Kim,” Nick said, then waited for a response.
Hammond stared at him, beer in hand. Then he roared with laughter. Kate flinched, before settling into her previous pose.
“Somebody used a fucking hotshot from the Spires as cover for a terrorist group?” Hammond said. “Fuck me, that takes balls. Jun Kim must have money pouring out of every orifice if he didn’t notice the hole in his bank account.”
Shaking his head, Hammond slammed back his beer. He then frowned, before looking around and gesturing at Kate.
“2 more beers, Kate,” he said. Then he looked at Nick’s mostly untouched lager. “Drink yours faster.”
Hammond maintained a hell of a pace. Nick had to go back to work after this, so he just shrugged.
“The entire situation is strange from start to end,” Nick said. “A raid on a company that the military created, a mainframe missing in the one time span the police weren’t paying attention, and an incompetent anti-government group with loads of high-grade hardware.”
“Yet you’re still turning the investigation into a slam dunk.” Hammond clinked his empty glass against Nick’s much fuller one. “Nobody other than the Archangels turns in useful shit anymore. Guess there’s a reason Uriel picked you.”
Nick swirled his drink. “Those words feel bitter, but they don’t sound it.”
“I don’t have anything against you. Like I said last night, we’re the same. This shithole of a city chews up everyone, and you’re doing what you need to do to stay out of the teeth of the grinder.” Hammond bared his teeth before letting out a dark chuckle. “Grim, I know. But I spent the morning listening to a bunch of Ciphers bitch about how they still don’t have any job offers.”
The change in subject was a welcome relief for Nick. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to dive headlong into accusing Hammond of being his prime suspect.
“I noticed that none of the police Ciphers are registered on Cipher boards,” he said. “Outside of government registries, you’re basically unknown to companies. Kind of surprised that HR didn’t sign them up.”
“Uh, a what board?” Hammond leaned forward.
“A Cipher board. They’re a Cipher-specific employment… thing?” Nick struggled to explain it and gestured in the air. “Like, you probably have a profile somewhere with your resume, job history, and shit, and recruiters message you about random bullshit.”
“Sure. I’m pretty sure my picture there still has hope in its eyes and no gray hair.” The older detective laughed. “Been a while since I needed to care about networking, Nick.”
“That might be the problem with your colleagues.”
“Our colleagues, technically.”
Nick winced. He knew nothing about the other detectives and doubted he’d meet any of them before they were shown the door. Would any of them want to meet him? He’d been hired over all of them and was working with their replacements.
“Anyway, most Ciphers keep their info up-to-date on the boards. Or somebody else does.” He scratched the back of his head. “A good way to know if someone is keeping tabs on you is if your project details get updated. Employers then trawl the boards and fire off job offers, or contact Ciphers in your network for references.”
“Just like that? You don’t even apply for jobs?” Hammond’s face practically oozed with disbelief.
“When you’re new, sure. But experienced Ciphers are in demand and a mainframe usually knows who it wants to hire just from trawling the board. Especially the new emotion engine-driven ones. They have strong personalities. Given companies sell employee data to each other, it’s trivial for the mainframes to keep a running list of their preferred Ciphers for a job opening.”
“Fucking hell,” Hammond spat, abruptly standing up.
Nick watched as the older man wandered over to the far wall. A machine gave off a dim glow in the darkness, and ancient LED panels too small to read presumably told Hammond something.
After several seconds of fumbling with the device, Hammond let out a grunt and walked back to the table. The hum of music descended over the pair, gently at first, until Nick realized what they were listening to.
Some sort of electronic swing, he guessed.
“Like I told you, everything is physical here,” Hammond grunted out as he sat back down. “Figured we could use some uplifting music if we’re gonna talk about this trash heap of a society we live in.”
“I don’t even know what we’re listening to.”
“Electro swing. Great stuff. It had a huge boom when I was young, but it died completely with all the crazy shit they came up with in the Altnet. Lives on here, though.” Hammond beat his fist against his chest. “Anyway, depressing shit. Seems ridiculous that anyone even applies for a job if the mainframes know who they want to hire to begin with.”
“Sometimes people get involved in the hiring process,” Nick pointed out.
Hammond snorted. “Ah, yes, and they choose from a list filtered by the mainframe. So they can choose between two shit candidates and the guy the mainframe wants.” He paused. “Are they actually smart enough to do that?”
“Depends. I could program a logic engine to do that, and there probably are ones coded to do that. Emotion engines would do it without even blinking. They’d view their goal as hiring the best candidate and consider the human factor to be an obstacle to success,” Nick said.
“A-fucking-mazing.”
The two of them chuckled darkly for a few moments, before settling into silence.
Kate swiftly interrupted them. She deposited two more beers in front of Hammond, then turned to Nick.
“Are you ready to order, sir?” she asked him.
Without a word, Nick reached out and placed one of the new beers next to his half-finished one. Kate didn’t pay the slightest bit of attention to his movements. She merely stared at him, rocking back and forth on her heels.
“I’m fine, thank you,” he said eventually.
“Let me know when you’re ready to order something. I can make a wide range of—”
“We don’t need the upsell, Kate,” Hammond growled. “Go on, git.”
Kate returned to her post. Nick didn’t miss that she placed a cocktail shaker in front of herself, in plain view of their table.
“I can see why the regulars like her,” he said.
“Not you too.” Hammond rubbed his forehead. “Ask her to make you a whiskey sour. Go on.”
Nick eyed his colleague. Somehow, he knew that this was a trap.
“Maybe later,” he said after a few seconds.
Shrugging, Hammond shifted the topic of conversation. “Seems kind of ridiculous that we have automation like this, yet so much shit seems out-of-date. If a mainframe can hire everyone without input, why bother with job postings? The damn traffic system runs itself.” A frown. “You know, I went to Britain a few years ago for a big conference. Learned something crazy.”
Nick sensed what Hammond wanted. He obliged and said, “I’ve never been out of the isles. So what did you learn?”
“They still let people drive cars over there. Fucking nuts, right? You’ve got regular morons on the same road as robot taxis and trucks. People with implants are jacked into the… fuck, it’s not the Altnet over there, is it?”
“I get it. Go on.”
Hammond drummed his fingers and recollected his thoughts. “So all these morons are driving cars at stupid speeds, but they’re watching movies in their implants and chatting online. Meanwhile, robot taxis are just weaving around them and dodging these idiots. I’ve never seen so many car wrecks in my life.”
“They drive cars in movies,” Nick pointed out.
“Yeah, but movies are bullshit. People still smoke cigarettes in them and you can’t even buy the fucking things here. It’s easier to buy an illegal neural mod than tobacco.” Hammond smirked. “I asked another attendee why people could drive, and he said everyone would riot if they stopped them. Made me think what it would take for another riot here.”
Nick’s mind immediately returned to his conversation with Commissioner Kim, and his good mood vanished. Hammond spotted the change in expression.
Neither of them spoke for a little while.
After Nick drained his beer, he eyed Hammond’s nearly finished one. “Why don’t you order that whiskey sour?”
“If she fucks it up, you’re drinking it.” But Hammond ordered it anyway.
It came out after a few minutes. Before Kate could run off, Hammond grabbed her arm. Then he cautiously sipped his drink.
“It’s fine,” he said.
“Yes, detective,” she said, then left.
“No show?” Nick asked.
“She has a fifty-fifty chance of using the egg yolk instead of the white, and that’s just the start,” Hammond said flatly. “Nobody orders cocktails from her, but she pushes them on everyone. I think she’s a sadist.”
“That’s on her manufacturer.”
“Maybe.”
The music changed from a soft, jazzy electronic tune to something more somber. Before Hammond got up to change it, Nick kept the conversation going.
It was about time he started doing his job, after all.
“I’m still surprised you frequent a doll bar. You clearly dislike the Archangels and preferred the Labor Zone. Shouldn’t there be a human bartender behind that counter?” Nick pointed at Kate.
Hammond eyed him, noticing the change in tone. “I’d prefer humans in a lot of places, but I’m not going to hold it against the owner of the bar. This place barely stays afloat as is.”
“What about all the other places that use dolls? If this is fine, why not other businesses?”
“I’m not gonna tell everyone to go back to rubbing rocks against sticks, Nick,” Hammond said. “You wanna know why people like dolls? Because other humans fucking suck. When your house is broken into, you don’t want some asshole in uniform giving you attitude and acting like you’re wasting his time. The Liberators never complain, always listen to the bitching, and are endlessly enthusiastic. They’re friendly.”
“Do people feel the same about the Archangels?” Nick asked.
“They admire them from a distance.” Hammond smiled wryly, evidently aware of the Archangels’ reputation. “But my point is that the cold, unfeeling comfort of an AI is fine sometimes. I don’t want to be killed by some asshole watching a movie while trying to drive, or hear about people dying in furnaces. My problem is with the assholes putting them in place.”
Nick raised an eyebrow.
Sighing, Hammond leaned back and ordered another round of beers. Nick suspected both of these would be drunk by the older man.
“I’ve worked a government job my whole life. It’s a thankless job. The Spires hate me because I’m a regular asshole, and the regular assholes hate me because I work for the Spires. Now, imagine working that role while knowing that a fancy new robot is going to roll out and replace you, and nobody will hire you.”
“I can imagine that,” Nick said.
“I know you can. Most people can’t, but that’s why we’re the same. You knew what it was like to look into the future and see how fucking hopeless it is.” Hammond glared at nothing in particular. “I’ve hung on. Somehow.”
