by Sean Platt
Killian looked down, fiddling with his fingers and thumbs, almost twiddling. He looked up, catching himself, and moved his eyes around the room. Everywhere other than at Micah.
“What about the biologicals?” Micah asked.
“That side is much harder, but we’re getting there. The problem is that truly biological parts don’t like to live without a mind operating them. I know how that sounds, but it’s true. Working in this field…I’ll tell you, it’s enough to turn a man religious. And I mean the old church, not the new church. God and all that.” He looked up at Micah, who was holding the cigarette in the corner of his mouth, hands clasped loosely together in front. “What I mean is,” said Killian, still stammering, “is that you start to wonder if a body, after you die, maybe is just a hunk of meat. Because at this point, we can stimulate the biology almost entirely, and all that’s missing is…well…a soul. Or a mind, I guess. Yes, ‘mind’ is sufficient. Sorry, I’m not expressing this well, but what I’m saying is…”
“How long?” said Micah.
“Oh, I don’t think it’ll be long. We’ll crack it. It’s a bit like trying to hold a bag open for long enough to shove something large inside it without anyone to help you. Right now, we can do it all piecemeal. And we can do it with processors and metal and so on, but…”
“Biological parts,” said Micah. “That’s what we want.”
“Of course. And it’s coming along. Humans all function as mind and body. We can engineer a lot of the body. We can split off the mind. All that’s left is the pairing. We’ll get there.”
Micah nodded. But Killian had already looked away, now with his leg crossed, fiddling with his shoelace instead of his thumbs.
“What’s up, Jim?” said Micah.
Killian looked up.
“Just tell me. Stop fucking around, and tell me what’s bothering you.”
Killian seemed to consider playing coy then hemmed and hawed for a moment before admitting that there had been some confusion over a new salesman named Greenley. A temp receptionist had confused Greenley for another man — a Presque Beau and below salesman named Thomas Stahl — and had sent Stahl into the advanced biologics lab. Micah, his temperature rising, thought that Killian was probably deflecting. The receptionist would already have been wiped and hence be unable to defend herself. Regardless, Killian fucked up. Who simply took the word of a receptionist as gospel?
“It’s not a problem!” said Killian, attempting to smile. He pushed back from his seat, but Micah put a hand on the chair’s back, telling him without words to stay seated. “We wiped him, but apparently he had a deflector implant…”
“And of course, the world’s most advanced upgrade lab wouldn’t check for that sort of thing,” Micah interjected.
“Well, yes, but see, it was all very confusing with the swarm escape the day before, and…well, like I said, it’s not a problem anymore, in fact, it’s…”
“You didn’t think to tell me about this when it happened, Jim? It’s Sunday, and seeing as Xenia is on nine-to-five, the very latest this could have happened was Friday.” He was keeping his voice even and low, but everything in him was repressing an urge to use his virtual hands to rip Killian’s virtual head from its shoulders. Thanks to Micah’s hack, he could make Killian’s real body feel it, too.
“Well, it was handled very quickly! We discovered the deflection as feedback on the sensor records when we did our nightly sweep, and plus, I’d decided to check in on him anyway because I wanted to be thorough, and we found out that some of the people he buys from…well, that’s not important. But we sent someone out that night.” He paused, as if deciding to omit part of the story. “He’s in custody now. I sent in Kane. So I didn’t want to burden you with it. You don’t need to be concerned with trifles. You…”
“You sent in Kane?”
“Well, yes, because…”
“Why would you send that sick fuck in? That’s so much worse than taking prisoners. Both could get you sent to Respero — ” Here, Micah carefully avoided saying that “we” could be sent to Respero. “ — but you know how I feel about that goddamned Polack. I didn’t want him here in the first place, certainly not at Xenia, certainly not in development, but the board…”
“He was being obtuse! We needed information, and…”
Micah’s eyes narrowed. “You needed information?”
“Well, yes.”
“About?”
“Just in case…you know…”
Micah thought he knew what Killian was implying and didn’t like it. Was this salesman’s incursion truly an accident? Or had he been sent there by someone? Killian’s actions seemed to imply the latter.
“It’s handled, Mr. Ryan,” said Killian, still fidgeting. “We’ll Gauss them all, and they’ll never even know…”
“Them?”
“Well, there are two others. A woman who was helping Stahl and a man — probably an accomplice! — who came into his apartment right after we apprehended Stahl. It’s handled. Really. Promise. The only reason I didn’t say anything is because your time is more valuable than this, and you have bigger things on your mind than your involvement at Xenia, what with Shift coming and all…” Killian trailed off, apparently done but content to leave the thought hanging.
Micah realized that his shoulders and arms had tensed and told himself to relax. Because his current body was a projection, it obeyed his commands as they came through The Beam. His fists unclenched, and his shoulders drooped. His breathing fell. He decided that what was done was done. So, with effort, he smiled. He told Killian that he’d handled the situation admirably, clapped the man on the shoulder, and politely excused himself. Then, with the meeting complete, Micah left first. He opened his real eyes to find himself back in his office, in his rig.
Micah stood then started to pace, refusing himself the luxury of succumbing to the vertigo that often followed reemergence. Despite the mood he’d forced upon the end of the meeting, Micah was far from pacified. The way Killian had handled things was hardly admirable or appropriate.
After his head cleared, Micah walked to a wall, swiped open a window, and tapped prompts until he saw a revolving icon that indicated The Beam was trying to reach Micah’s “fixer.” Despite Killian’s assurances that the situation was handled, Micah felt far from sure that it was. It was time to send in the person who made him feel sure when nobody else could. The person who worked for Micah outside of Xenia’s little security force of inept Beam zealots, who wouldn’t hesitate to make things right at Xenia — even if Xenia was too blind to see what was in its own best interests.
The call didn’t connect, telling Micah that the party he was trying to reach was offline or off-grid.
Micah swore. He was alone, so he allowed his tone to rise, running a hand through his hair, mussing it.
“Canvas.”
Chirp. “Yes, Micah?”
“Rebecca, send a message to Jason Whitlock.” He couldn’t take any more infuriating discussions. At this point, he only wanted to issue commands, and for people to do as they were told.
“What is the message?”
“Tell him I want a Capital Protection agent assigned to round-the-clock surveillance on James Killian from Xenia Labs. The minute Killian does anything out of the ordinary, I want that agent to report in. If he can’t get me, he’s to report to Whitlock, and Whitlock is to use his judgment on pulling Killian in or doing what is needed. Priority.”
The canvas AI scanned the message for loose ends then found one. “Do you care whom Mr. Whitlock assigns for this surveillance, Micah?”
Micah ran a hand through his already-mussed hair. “It can be anyone,” he said, “as long as they are equipped to wear a Stark suit.”
When Kai was fifteen, she was raped by three men who saw her on the street during the day then followed her to her temporary home — up under the stanchions of a highway overpass — later that night. The next day Kai found herself beaten, bloody, and barely able to twitch
. A woman found her and took her to an emergency room where she convalesced for several days. Kai’s first act after becoming ambulatory was to go to a well-known local dealer and trade half of the food she’d managed to scavenge for a conventional grenade. She then entered a ramshackle settlement, every vagrant eye fixed on the young girl so stupidly walking amongst them like a bull’s eye with feet, and found the men who had raped her. A few minutes later, Kai scraped pieces of her attackers from shrapnel-pocked walls and took them home as souvenirs.
A few years later, after Kai had bought her way out of the gutter, she found herself trafficking services in lower-end neighborhoods, a roof over her head as she worked for a man who “managed” her business. Even at twenty, Kai didn’t feel she needed help — either in handling her affairs or protecting herself — but the neighborhood was union: You worked for Tom or didn’t work at all. It was a good deal for Tom; his new girl was incredibly popular and made him a ton of money. Kai didn’t see it that way — she was doing all the work while Tom sat back and sipped his percentage. So she tried leaving, and when she did, Tom stabbed her in the stomach with a four-inch kitchen knife. That pain — on a physical level, anyway — easily trumped the torment from her rape. It was as if every nerve in her body had sparked to life and was suddenly screaming. She could barely breathe, every molecule focused on her center of agony. Tom ran off, thinking her finished as Kai crumpled onto the ancient Formica floor in a ball. Her bleeding wasn’t critical, though, so she’d simply lain where she was for a long while, unable to activate her low-end apartment’s canvas because it had no voice interface. It had taken Kai hours to drag herself to the door and yell — hours filled with the most excruciating pain she could imagine. The rape had been beyond agonizing, but those hours spent on the floor of the kitchen were so much worse — and this time, thanks to Tom’s connections, she knew she’d never be able to fight back. The physical agony was torturous. The mental feeling of helplessness, for a girl who’d always been able to handle whatever came at her, was torturous. Even looking back years later on those hours, Kai didn’t think there existed more pain in the whole world.
But she was wrong.
Right now, Kai felt dozens of knives severing each of her toes and fingers wide open, peeling them back, separating every shred of tendon from her bones. She felt the pulpy innards of her digits smashed and chewed, farther separated — the nails peeled straight back and skin slowly stripped. She looked down, vision commanded as if by the push of a strong hand at the back of her head, and saw her fingers and toes coming off. The pain should have stopped once the digits were gone from her body; it didn’t. Kai felt each cut, each flay, each intrusion and impalement. Then the knives were on what remained of her hands and arms, running up and into her gut, shredding flesh from flesh. Something was happening to her face; she seemed to feel her skull retreating from a blade, her face melting from bone, her eyes becoming hot like rocks in a fire and popping. A circle of agony wrapped her neck and slit it, her larynx seeming to crack and fold back on itself like a split walnut. Still, she was able to scream, her lips peeling from her face, and as she did, her…
It stopped. Kai’s eyes blinked, and she suddenly found herself staring at a featureless white ceiling. The pain’s departure was so complete and sudden that she was totally disoriented. This wasn’t how pain was supposed to work, and her body was baffled. Pain was supposed to subside and retreat, not cease like a switch being flipped. She was afraid to move. The absence of pain was a sort of torture in itself. Everything in her braced, preparing for its return.
“It’s very real, is it not?” said a pleasant voice. Kai rolled her eyes and saw Alix Kane’s white-haired head step into view above her. Her own head was strapped firmly down on the Orion, a kind of cap snaking long fingers under her hair. “That’s what people of your lower station always say when they’re first exposed to this level of immersion: that it’s so real. With this technology, you aren’t being shown horror. You are experiencing horror as if it were really happening.” He tapped the machine beneath Kai with his palm. “If I had a kinder machine than this old girl, I could put you in a meadow. You would not experience it as a falsity. You would believe you were there. Fully. I could let you live out your entire life in that meadow, and soon you’d forget that there even was another world that you used to call reality. There is no way to tell them apart. Now do you see why Mr. Stahl was so interested in learning about all of this?”
Kane circled the table once while Kai’s breath hitched and she fought to get her bearings. It had been real all right. Realer than real. She’d never imagined that such a degree of simulation was possible. The Orion’s takeover of her five senses, aided by the neural down-tuning nanos they’d injected into her, had been perfect.
“That was just a starter,” said Kane. “I can literally excite every sensory nerve in your body at once, but there’s no art to that. At lower levels, I can give you knives and fishhooks and white-hot brands. We have programs for the iron maiden, for being drawn and quartered, for all sorts of terrible things. But that doesn’t occur everywhere, see? Even when a team of horses is pulling you apart, your scalp doesn’t hurt. Some people, they use this thing like a blunt weapon.” He tapped the table’s aluminum surface beside Kai’s head. “But there is value in anticipation, is there not? You of all people should understand the power of teasing.”
Kai felt her heart thumping in her throat. Her breath was coming fast and hard. She jerked against the restraints, testing them. But they were too strong for her to break, and Kane had managed to disable her upgrades by uploading what he called a “short-lived virus” into her — something Kai didn’t know was possible. She still had her mental add-ons at her disposal, but that was probably intentional because right now, all they were good for was categorizing the depths of her agony, recording it for later playback if she wanted.
“I don’t know anything else,” Kai managed to say. She’d already told Kane about how Doc had come to her, how he’d seen some strange things at Xenia Labs, and how she’d been trying to help him disappear. She hadn’t needed a round on the Orion to tell them everything, because they knew it all already. But Kane had strapped her in anyway.
Kane laughed. “Oh, I know you don’t.” Kane called over his shoulder. “Unmute Mr. Stahl.”
Kai rolled her eyes, trying to look around. Her head was fixed, and she couldn’t move it, but she soon saw one of the Beamers dragging Doc into her field of view. His blond hair was unkempt, eyes wide and wild. He was ranting and raging, screaming and shouting — except that no sound was leaving his mouth. Then the Beamer touched a button on a handheld and the nanos they’d shot into him moved away from his vocal cords, and Doc’s voice returned as suddenly as Kai’s pain had departed.
“ — know anything, you motherfucker! I keep telling you! It was a mistake! Let her…”
He stopped, seemingly surprised by his voice in the quiet room. Of course, it couldn’t have been this quiet a moment ago, could it? Kai assumed she’d been screaming, but she realized she had no idea. Her experience on the Orion was fully immersive — more immersive than even she, as an expert in sensation and sensation-enhancing technology, thought possible. She hadn’t just imagined her fingers peeling like bananas to show the bleached white bone beneath. She’d felt it as if it were happening. She’d seen it. She’d heard it. She’d even smelled it, and she’d tasted blood in her mouth, metallic like copper. She’d felt as if she had screamed, but she might have been doing so into the black, bloody room in which she’d been sequestered a moment ago. As far as the others were concerned (and she had to believe Nicolai was over there somewhere too, equally muted), it might have looked like she was peacefully napping.
Doc said, “Why is she bleeding?”
Kane reached down and ran a finger along Kai’s neck, below her ear, then pulled it away and looked at a fat line of red blood. Kai felt sure he would lick it.
“We don’t understand that,” said Kane. “The egghea
ds say it’s something like stigmata. But it’s the reason the table has holes. Sometimes, their bodies believe the pain so intensely that they’ll bleed through their clothing. It can get…messy.”
“What were they doing to you, sweetheart?” said Doc. As pissed off as she’d been at him earlier and as steely as she herself had been, Doc’s use of the word touched her in a strange way. It almost made her want to cry. But she couldn’t answer. She could only shake her head.
Doc turned to Kane.
“She doesn’t know anything, and I don’t know anything, either. I told you. It was a mistake. They thought I was this other guy, Greenley. I had no idea that stuff existed. I went home and tried to look it up afterward, even. I have a secure router. I’ll tell you where I got it; I don’t care. I hacked into a dozen high-end upgrade stores but couldn’t find anything like the stuff at Xenia. I haven’t told anyone other than Kai what I saw. I swear. Go ahead, Gauss us all, problem solved.”
“It’s not enough,” Kane said. He didn’t seem angry. He just seemed unfinished, or perhaps unsatisfied.
“It’s all there is. Please.”
Kane looked at Kai, his small white head haloed by the overhead light, creating a haze around his face. He raised his own handheld and made a show of preparing to push a button. He wanted Kai to see it coming.
“Wait!” she yelled.
“Yes?” said Kane.
“Don’t. Please. I don’t know anything. I’d tell you if I did. I would.”
Kai saw Kane press something, and like a light switch had been flipped, found herself again in the black room that smelled of sour meat. She felt a spear strike her middle, then flower out into a slow-moving circle, tearing a hole through her body’s center. Her flesh burned, and her throat was slit, her neck contorting and breaking. She wanted to scream, but there was no air, and when she managed to inhale, Kai found her lungs filled with acid, burning and devouring and…