This Automatic Eden

by Jim Keen

  Toko turned to Alice. “How long have you known?”

  “Had my suspicions, but only got proof moments before we went into Brannigan’s house. I didn’t trust the intel, too many ways it could have been corrupted, so kept quiet until now.”

  Toko looked at Xavi, “Continue.”

  “When it was just the two of us,” Xavi said, “we could pretend we had a future. That changed with the baby so we looked for a way out. B13 has such reach, the only safe place was off world. Getting there was impossible, so we approached the FBI. I offered to turn witness in exchange for safe passage.”

  The Dyson engines crackled outside, the sound filling the space between them.

  “Someone talked and they butchered her,” he said. “I went to my FBI handler for information.”

  “Agent Xavi Garcia?”

  “Yeah. I liked him. He was tough, smart, loyal. Treated me with respect. He denied knowledge right to the end, and I was hurting him a lot. He said the SSP had taken over the case, that he was being transferred to New York.”

  “What about the DEA?”

  “No, just SSP. He said smuggling gangs were being taken out all across the country, that there had to be a connection. I took his ID and dumped the body. B13 ordered me to return to Bogota. I told them to go fuck themselves, that I would find Maria’s killer. They said I was the grass, and put a hit out on me. I didn’t care. I read Garcia’s reports. They said you, Alice, were deep with Five Points, and that the cases were connected. So I decided to meet you, see what you knew, and here we are.” His face started the slow slide back into a hard mask.

  “I’m sorry about Maria,” Alice said.

  He stared at her, conversation over.

  What to do? Alice chewed her lip. The logical choice was to dump him the first chance she got; he was a liar, a liability, a murderer. Who even knew if this story was the truth? And yet he’d saved her life at the shipyard, and rescued her from the FBI. Their goals aligned, and without him she was left with Conner, hiding out in New York, and Toko, a family man she loved too much to risk. The chance of her ever working though this, and finding Julia’s killer, was small with his help, zero without it. She had to decide, here and now—give up and run, or accept his help in the knowledge he could betray her at any time.

  “My enemies enemy is my friend.”

  Xavi nodded to her. “To you I say the truth, Alice. I want to find Maria’s killer as much as you want Julia’s. Maybe they are the same person. Either way, our paths intertwine. I know what you are thinking, but I mean you no harm. We can work together, same as we have been, until this job is done. After that, I don’t care if you lock me up and call the cops.”

  “Toko?” Alice asked.

  “You should hand him over as soon as we land. No offense.” Toko shifted in his seat, ready, but Xavi just smiled.

  “I can see why you’re the lieutenant and she’s just street-meat.” He said.

  “Do you have any records from B13’s operation? What was being smuggled and where?” Alice asked.

  “No, but it makes sense to split the loads around the country, not rely on any one gang.”

  “You think B13 was hired by the same people as Five Points, then taken out once they were no longer needed?”

  “Yes.”

  “So, we’re looking for an organization big enough to hire gangs countrywide, which narrows the options.”

  “Yes.”

  Alice closed her eyes, inhaled. “So what do I call you?”

  “Xavi Garcia was a friend, and I tortured and murdered him. I will honor his name.”

  “For this to work, I need total disclosure from now on,” Alice said. “No more secrets.”

  “Agreed.”

  “We need a fast car. Wish I still had my phone. Four would be a big help right now.”

  Toko reached into his pocket and tossed her old battered phone across the car. “I took your belongings from the FBI.”

  “You’re one of a kind, Toko.” She clicked it on and held her thumb over Four’s symbol. “You ready for this?”

  38

  The rain clouds lay below them now, a blanket of bruised gray that stretched across the curved horizon. The sun was clear and bright, the sky blue, and Alice felt the warmth of light on her skin. She closed her eyes, let the sun’s glow thaw the winter chill. The engines gave a low constant hum, battery packs redlined in the thin air.

  She leaned forward and put the phone in the slot on top of the control column then pressed the Four icon. The 3D screen buzzed with white static and resolved to a numeral countdown as the phone established a connection.

  “Who is this?” Is It Hot In Here Or Is It Me? asked. Her communication avatar was an old, heavyset woman wearing a billowing white blouse with large, ornate reading glasses perched on a thin nose. She peered over the top of the frames to stare out of the screen. “Oh, hello, Alice. It’s good to see you.” She looked around. “Aren’t you going to introduce me?”

  “NYPD Lieutenant Toko Morris,” Alice said, smiling at Toko.

  “Ma’am,” Toko replied while Xavi rolled his eyes.

  “Pleasure to meet you, Lieutenant Morris.”

  “Toko, please.”

  “Thank you. As for you, Mr. Dias, good manners cost nothing—something you should remember.”

  “How the hell—” Xavi gasped, and Alice had to suppress a smile; the machine had a way of assuming the role of a bossy maternal presence within moments.

  “Not many secrets with her around.” Alice said.

  “Secrets are such nasty things, I can’t abide them,” Four continued. “Now, seeing as we’re all so very busy, let’s cut to the question. I assume you’re calling for some form of transport?” Four said.

  “How did you know?” Alice asked.

  “I ran the probability branches after your escape; when you have the entire American law enforcement system after you, options narrow somewhat. So, a car, then?”

  “Please.”

  “I’m unable to help a known criminal, but I can suggest a discreet landing site close to a dealership. Where will you go afterward?”

  “Rothmore told me everything is in Arizona, so there,” Alice replied. “We need more intel to pick a location though.”

  “I have access to Cortex’s satellite network if that helps,” Four said.

  Alice knew she was being led, that Four already had a destination in mind. “Just show me what you mean and cut the coy bullshit, you old hag.”

  The 3D screen flickered, and a series of aerial images replaced the annoyed woman. The desert’s lifeless surface looked like Mars—baked, hard, alien. The resolution improved as the camera zoomed in, and Alice saw a gray geometric line emerge then terminate at a blurred object the camera couldn’t resolve.

  “I believe this may bear upon your investigation,” Four said.

  “What is that?” Xavi asked, leaning forward and squinting at the screen.

  “The new Arizona Transmission Camp and the connecting rail system.”

  “Why’s it blurred out?”

  “The information comes from Cortex satellites, but runs through the government download center as per martial-law requirements. Somewhere in that sequence, the images have been blurred to obscure the size and function of the camp.”

  “Any earlier images?”

  “None. All have undergone posthumous visual alteration and are changed beyond recall.”

  “Other countries?”

  “I have no access to foreign intelligence for this area.”

  “Why?” Toko said. “It’s no secret; the president announced it on the news, and it was discussed in congress before Six-Thirty.”

  “Control over the message?” Alice replied.

  “More likely they’re hiding something,” Xavi said.

  “Four, do you think this was the destination for Five Points and B13’s smuggling operation?” Alice said.

  “Its rapid growth and secrecy make a probable target,” Four said.


  “I need help getting in.”

  “I’m sure the resourceful Mr. Conner could connect you with a local coyote. That person will have a package for you.”

  “What do you need me to do?” Alice asked.

  “I’m looking for the ghost MI that I suspect is in Arizona, remember? That camp is of a scale capable of hiding such a machine. Should you find it, I’d like you to place an object on its casing, then—”

  “I’m the one going in,” Xavi cut across them.

  “Cut the machismo,” Alice replied. “Out of the three of us here, who looks like they’ve just spent a year unemployed?”

  An awkward silence grew between them.

  “Toko, Xavi, Alice—look after yourself,” Four said. The communication broke into pixels as the ground rose to meet the car.

  39

  The car landed in a deserted baseball field; the engines spewed a cloud of dust and dead grass around them. Alice looked at Toko; she wasn’t one for big goodbyes. Even if she was, what was there to say? Thanks, see you soon? No, anything would be trite, unworthy of the stakes they found themselves in.

  She gave him a smile, popped the cabin release, then slid out to stand on the hard ground. “I’ll contact Conner if I need you.”

  Toko nodded. Xavi hopped out, carrying his army bag and scowling at the exposed location. Toko reached across, hit the Start button, and the cabin closed with a faint mechanical whine. The exterior glass bubble was mirrored; Alice glimpsed her convex reflection as the Dyson funnels sucked in air and the engines started. She stood back and shielded her eyes as the Mercedes shot up and away, the chrome sphere glittering in the white sunlight before it disappeared to leave them alone in the silence.

  The stadium was small; the broken stands encircled them like a desert canyon. Seats were missing, smashed, or had been tossed to the field which was little more than cracked soil with the odd green tuft. The frigid air moaned as it pushed through the stadium superstructure. Alice understood why Four had chosen this spot; there were no working cameras or people here to track them. It was as off grid as you could get at such short notice.

  She shivered and smiled at Xavi; his teeth chattered, a low animal noise in the quiet. She moved into his warmth, let his arm brush hers. It was no use denying her feelings toward him; she took advantage of the warmth to step in and wrap her arms around his torso. At first, he was stiff and tried to push her away. She hugged tighter until he relaxed and hugged her back.

  “Whoever’s got a car round here, they ain’t bringing it to us. Let’s go see,” Xavi said.

  They walked to the stadium’s exit, past faded blue plastic seating glued to rusted metal stands with green epoxy. The entrance had two old ticket booths, their windows scratched and opaque with age. Twin turnstiles squeaked as they pushed through and exited.

  The main street was a twenty minute walk from the stadium, a journey in which they’d seen nothing alive except feral cats that screamed and fled. The stadium carpark had been a pool of broken concrete containing two rusted hulks propped on bricks, the road leading them here no better. No cars, no open shops, no people, no hope. This is the real America, Alice thought. People and places fucked up, fucked over, and forgotten.

  “Why the hell was Four saying that we’d find a ride here?” she asked.

  “Look.” Xavi nodded at a tall billboard pockmarked with bullet holes emerging from the battleship-gray sky.

  Alice couldn’t read its slogan, but the picture was clear if faded: cars, here, now, cheap. “We’ve no money.”

  He turned and studied her, his earlier warmth boiled away. “They’ll listen to me.”

  Earl’s Cars was as dead as the street. Massive inflation made handwritten signage redundant; dull yellow LCD screens inside the secondhand vehicles ticked over as Alice watched, adding dollars per minute. What must it be like to live here? The coasts were a different land, shattered with sickness and strife, but still vital and alive; this was beyond the world’s end, hopes worn away to leave nothing but sand.

  Xavi approached an old trailer with a flickering open sign. Knocked. Waited. Banged. Waited. Broke the door with a hard shove and entered, boots crackling across small glass vials. Earl was asleep, sprawled over an old vinyl desk, breath catatonic. Xavi shook him; Earl mumbled and flopped back, a dead puppet, mouth open to the ceiling. Xavi ran his hands over Earl’s pants—no keys. He scanned the cramped interior. Old file cabinets, busted small black-and-white TV, room to the rear hidden behind an amber bead curtain.

  “Yo, anyone here?” Alice asked.

  A large middle-aged woman appeared at the curtain, ample bosom breaking the lines of beads. In her hand was a small silver gun—a hand that shook, Alice noted.

  “We need a ride, aerial, no records.”

  The woman stared, saying nothing.

  From the corner of her eye, Alice saw Xavi’s hand inch into his pocket. She looked at him and shook her head no. “Got anything like that?” she said to the woman.

  The shaking gun turned to Alice. “You cops? You look like cops.”

  “I was. Not anymore. Freelance now.”

  “That a cop jacket?”

  Alice glanced at her bulletproof leather uniform. “Yes.”

  “Show me.”

  Alice clicked her lapel toggle, and the jacket briefly illuminated, NYPD scrolling across its micro LEDs before the battery died and it flickered blue dust and crashed. “Charge it up and it’s as good as new. Want to try it on?”

  “Not for me, girl. My arm’s thicker than your whole body. For my daughter. It’s rough out here; she could use it.” The last words ghosted out, more a thought than hope.

  “What about that car?” Alice asked as she shrugged her arms free of her jacket.

  The deal had gone better than expected; the woman, Shirleen, had an old Vegas Rapid-Response Hopper stuck out back. It was beat to hell and stank of puke, but the engines ran smooth, and it was either that or drive at ground level—a no-optimal solution. Next was a short hop to the local megamart where they lifted lightweight clothes, food, water, and cigarettes. Xavi took first shift, so Alice changed, ate, then slept, the passenger seat pushed back as far as it would go.

  She awoke to find Xavi asleep next to her, the desert landscape stretched across his aviator sunglasses as the autonomous systems guided them. During the night, he’d changed into T-shirt and shorts, his arms and legs revealing their mess of tattoos. His smell filled the car—old coffee and sweat. She wanted to wake him, shake him, tell him to give up on his revenge. Instead, she watched, hands twitching. She needed evidence to get through this; would she risk that to give him what he so desperately wanted? She didn’t know, the question bouncing inside her. She needed a cigarette, needed coffee, needed someone to make decisions for her.

  The engines crackled to themselves as she called Conner. He sounded tired but safe. New York was more violent than ever, Barlow pushing hard into the city, the pressure growing on Five Points to match his brutality. After a few minutes negotiating details, he agreed to set up a meeting with a coyote. That done, she studied the ground below. Short ochre hills spotted with gnarled shrubs shouldered dry riverbeds connected to empty lakes and deserted towns. Water was too rare and expensive to keep local communities alive these days.

  They reached the Trans-American rail line that afternoon, the maglev tracks a silver scar cut through the countryside. Wide concrete banks flanked the line to make it look like slashed flesh, skin pulling from the wound. A train shot by traveling at hundreds of miles an hour. Even so, it took minutes to pass, beautiful and terrifying in equal measure. Was this mankind’s exodus? The rewards too great, the penalties too fierce to remain? She thought back to Charles Takamatsu and his laboratory of corrupted people, his wish to link the organic with the mechanical and create a master race. No wonder people wanted to leave if the alternate was to be subsumed into that mechanized reality. She’d never spoken to him after his offer, events moving too quickly to control. She
could add him to her list of enemies now.

  The train passed, and Xavi woke with a start.

  She pointed at the silver machine, fuselage twinkling under the sun. “We’re here.”

  He stretched, rubbing his face, and opened a can of coffee. “Anything from Conner?”

  “Let me check.” Alice lit a cigarette, the acrid smoke sending shivers through her, then checked the car console. Her phone blinked with a new encrypted data packet from an anonymous sender.

  Xavi reached across and pinched out her cigarette as she opened the message. It contained a line of coordinates, a time, list of instructions, and a request for payment, an eye-watering number. Conner was never one to ignore a business opportunity. She entered the location, and the car banked right and dropped.

  Game time.

  40

  Alice knew cold could kill—every New York winter demonstrated that—but now she understood that heat could be far worse. Xavi had followed Conner’s instructions and dropped her in the middle of nowhere dressed in shorts and T-shirt. He’d taken off in a bitter cloud of dust to leave her alone. He was monitoring, but that didn’t make her feel less vulnerable or isolated. The sun was the mouth of a furnace, the molten blast pinning her in place. Baked red earth held together by emaciated shrubs surrounded her; odorless air scorched her throat. The relentless light even smothered sound—her damaged ears offered nothing but a high-pitched ringing.