there was only the convenient avatar, created
onto a balcony overlooking a steep atrium—
for the day and worn by whichever member
I’d never seen this before, didn’t even know it
of the crew was on desk duty.
was here. But the red arrow never led me the
Max Blankman got off the tube at 13:13 o’-
same way twice.
clock. Not deliberate, just ironic. The Max
Once, the balconies had been separate do-
Blankman ID was a public domain, open-
mains. Now the railings were gone, makeshift
source identity. Anyone could wear it. It
platforms linked them all, one to the next, and
wasn’t suspicious, unless it was. Usually it was
it was an elevated walkway. All the way
as innocuous as a Charles Manson T-shirt on a
around to the other side, then right turn
recently liberated teener. (Hint: The revolu-
through a meet-rack where naked avatars
tion is not a fashion statement.) If you were se-
lounged along a railing. The double-vision of
rious about hiding out, you didn’t go as
meatspace revealed the unappetizing truth—
Blankman, not Max, not Minnie, not any of
another reason why sexbots and sextables had
their offspring.
become so popular. If you could afford them.
He. She. Whatever did not have a name.
If not, avatar-whores were cheap.
Like Miranda, access was exclusive. I had it,
Up, down, around, in, out—the arrow f i-
because I had money to spend. Enough. Most
nally led me to a simple dark room. Yellow silk
people don’t have that advantage. Most peo-
drapes, artfully decorated with dancing and re-
ple never have enough. And it collapses their
clining and copulating naked people, all com-
thinking from “I don’t have enough” into “I
binations, all positions. Red paper lanterns. I
am not enough.” It’s that kind of mindset that
could have been in the foyer of an expensive
keeps me in business, provides me with cus-
Happy House, where unique designer fan-
tomers. I should be grateful, but I’m not. I
tasies were created for wealthy aesthetes with
spend too much time with the wrong kind of
specific erotic tastes. Well, yes. I was.
people.
There were two backless chairs in the
Goggled, half in meatspace, half in Endless
room. Padded cylinders, one on each side of a
City, I made my way quickly through the Jum-
low table. A Eurasian boy came in carrying a
ble. Worst thing you can do is hesitate. All the
ceramic tea service on a wooden tray. He
signs, all the rules and warnings, all the direc-
couldn’t have been more than thirteen. He
tions, all the arrow-trails, were available only
was beautiful, dressed in a soft red kilt and a
in the Endless City overlay—you saw only the
f lowing white shirt. His avatar f lawlessly
overlays you were allowed to see. I saw a
matched his physical presence. He sat down
128
DAVID GERROLD
JANUARY/FEBRUARY 2018
opposite me and placed the tray exactly be-
ous muscle groups. Six months, right?”
tween us with mathematical precision. Then
The boy didn’t answer.
he carefully, meticulously, poured tea into two
“As for costs? Okay, there’s the cost of nutri-
small red cups. Steam rose like a warning.
ents, that’s minimal. Tank rental, again mini-
He folded his hands into his lap and waited
mal. Security—that’s not minimal. Skillage
patiently. I took the closest cup. I cradled it in
required to manage the various processes, I’m
my palms so as to minimize the heat coming
guessing six to ten specialists, maybe another
off it. I inhaled the fragrance of the steeping
twelve assistants for scut-work. Plus all the dif-
leaves. I returned the cup to the table without
ferent bits and pieces of equipment, the bots,
drinking. I only look stupid.
the maintenance, the electricity, plus over-
“I have questions,” I said.
head—” I quoted a number.
The boy was impassive. He waited.
The boy did not reply. His failure to react
“I want to know if something is possible.”
was just as informative as if he had spoken.
I knew I wasn’t speaking to the boy. I was
Finally. “What you ask is possible.” Another
speaking to his puppeteer. He was a Cyra-
pause. “However . . .”
noid—taking his instructions from someone
“Yes?”
offsite. His features were perfect, his skin was
“Your cost estimate is too low. We would
pink and golden and shining—as clear as
have to establish a specific facility. You would
porcelain. His hair was pure blue-black and
have to assume that overhead.” He quoted a
shining. His eyes were stunning blue. His
number.
physical presence was already an answer to
“I see. Your current operations are at capac-
my question.
ity?”
When the boy spoke, his voice was lyrical.
The boy didn’t answer.
He said quietly, “You’re here. Therefore you
It didn’t matter. That he had actually quoted
have permission. Ask.”
a price told me what I needed to know. He.
“How much would it cost to grow a body?
She. Whatever. Didn’t offer a service unless
A life-size clone. How long would it take?”
they could deliver it. That meant they’d al-
A pause. “You did not ask if such a thing is
ready done it. At least once and probably more
possible.”
than once. And probably enough times that
“I already know it’s possible. I want to
their tanks were full and they had a waiting
know how much and how long.”
list. And as soon as they found a customer des-
The boy hesitated, listening to his master
perate enough to pay for the cost of a new fa-
again. “We can grow fully functioning new
cility, they’d move him to the head of the line.
legs onto your stumps in six months.”
I nodded. “I will get back to you on this. I’m
“That’s not the question I asked. How much
only the agent of inquiry.”
for a whole body? Head and brain included.”
I left the tea untouched on the table, a terri-
“You do not have a life-threatening disease.
ble insult, but one I had to risk. The other risk
All of your organs are functioning well. You
was greater. If they—the mysterious “they”—
will have no need of an organ replacement for
were capable of tracking Miranda’s feed to me
at least a decade or longer.”
and blowing up my office, might they also be
“How much? How long?”
just as capable of tracking me here?
“For what purpose do you need a clone of
In any other case, the unfinished tea would
yourself ?”
have been a signal that our business was not
Now it was my turn to pause while I con-
yet complete, but here in the Jumble it im-
sidered my reply. How much should I say?
plied a darker message. I do not trust you.
“Even a small meat-tank is big enough for a
Max Blankman disappeared on the south-
full-size male body,” I began. “Scanning and
ward train. I shadowed with a traveling blot
sampling is less than an hour. You can print
for several blocks, changing clothes and pos-
the collagen matrix in three days. Two weeks
ture and the gait of my legs, as I went. Re-
to grow and seed the stem cells. I’m guessing
versed my jacket, pulled up the hood, popped
two months for the bones, four to six months
on disposable goggles, deflated the fat suit by
for organ maturity and function, the last three
ten kilos, and a few other tricks I don’t like
will be spent exercising and toning the vari-
sharing.
ENDLESS CITY
129
ANALOG
So . . . now I knew. Ninety percent certain
About two weeks ago. A very sophisticated
anyway. Cobie hadn’t died. He’d faked his
piece of work. The tap didn’t go active until
own death.
after Cobie died—”
He’d grown a clone, perhaps even swapped
I thought about telling her it wasn’t Cobie,
most of his organs for fresh ones, then mur-
decided to wait until she finished. The bomb
dered the donor in his place. It would have
had been planted the same time as the tap.
been a perfect crime, but at the last moment,
The tap itself was a physical device attached
Cobie must have developed some kind of
to the line outside the building. Once the
emotional bond. He couldn’t bear to cause his
bomb went off, the tap self-destructed. It
donor-toddler any pain. So he’d killed it pain-
would have looked like part of the bomb dam-
lessly.
age. Except it left software traces of itself in
That was his mistake. A real murderer
the system. “A very sophisticated piece of
would have wanted the victim to suffer.
work, ” Miranda said. “But shallow. The
Okay, next question. Why had Cobie gone
cleanup wasn’t deep enough. The author
to so much trouble? Why did he need to go in-
didn’t realize that I was monitoring your
visible?
feeds.”
Only one way to answer that question.
“For how long?”
Ask Cobie.
“Long enough to notice there were hiccups
Right. Find the invisible man. Eezy-peezy.
in your reception.”
He’s only got a three-day lead.
“So you knew about the bomb?”
If I go back to Miranda—she’ll know I’m
“I knew about the tap. The bomb was a sur-
still alive. She probably already knows, but
prise.”
maybe not. If Miranda planted the bomb, then
“The tap triggered it.”
contacting her lets her know she failed—but
“I made a mistake. I assumed the trigger
how could she have planted the bomb so
was simply an alert. I was wrong.”
quickly? So, probably it wasn’t Miranda. It
“I could have been killed.”
would have had to have been Cobie.
“Yes. That would have ruined my whole
Okay, 90 percent sure it was Cobie who
day. I hate losing customers.”
blew up my off ice—the space I pretended
“Thank you for your concern.”
was my off ice. But why? Why kill the guy
“So—are we looking for the bomber now?”
you’ve just hired to investigate the fake mur-
“No. Yes. We’re looking for Cobie Fergu-
der you’ve staged?
son.” I told her about the clone farms in the
Ah—that one’s almost obvious. You kill him
Jumble.
to keep him from discovering the murder was
“I’m aware of the practice. Most of the
staged. And it clouds the investigation with an-
clones have been organ donors, several have
other false track.
been sexual partners. Two have been used for
God, I’m good.
vicarious revenge. This would have been the
Or stupid.
first murder—or staged murder. But you have
But Cobie had distracted me. The way he’d
no direct evidence.”
crossed his perfect legs so perfectly—and I’d
“No. What I have is a hunch.”
bought into it. I’d had so many clients who
“Yes?”
were painfully shallow, I’d begun to believe
“Cobie was—is—rich. Rich people don’t
they all were. Cobie might have set me up, but
abandon their wealth. They take it with them.
he had my help.
They’re stupid that way. Follow the money.”
Time to call Miranda.
“That’s not a hunch,” Miranda said. “That’s
It took me a while to get through; she
logic.”
bounced me through a dozen numbers and
“Anyway, that’s my question. Where is Co-
three calling locations, the most I’d ever expe-
bie’s money?”
rienced, but finally—
“The report is on its way.” She added, “To
Morticia Gomez. The Anjelica Huston itera-
your current account.”
tion. “You’ve been compromised,” she said.
“I have to ask. Are there any taps?”
“Yeah, I noticed.”
“None that I am aware of. Nevertheless, you
She said, “Your off ice line was tapped.
should stay alert.”
130
DAVID GERROLD
JANUARY/FEBRUARY 2018
“Thank you.”
soda gun, and filled a tall glass with super-car-
It turned out that Cobie didn’t have wealth.
bonated water. He hesitated before putting
He had access to wealth. Those are two very
the soda gun down.
different things.
I said, “Your blocker isn’t as good as you
I have access to wealth. I know. I have mul-
think it is. Miranda is recording everything. So
tiple client accounts I draw on. As long as I
if you’re still thinking about shooting me with
can present an auditable invoice for billable
whatever is concealed in that soda gun, I
hours, as long as my maintenance expenses re-
wouldn’t recommend it.”
main reasonable, as long as I spread the ex-
He sighed, shrugged, picked up his glass, and
penses across multiple accounts, I have access
walked over to one of two black leather chairs.
to wealth.
He sat down in one, gestured at the other.
In return for my services, which are consid-
“N
o thanks, I’ll stand.” I took an envelope
erable.
out of my pocket. “Here’s an invoice for my
As Cobie Ferguson was about to find out.
services. And an additional contract. You’re
I parked myself in realtime in the middle of
buying my silence. It’s not exorbitant. You can
a crowded plaza and plugged into Miranda’s
afford it. It’s certainly cheaper than any of your
f indings. Cobie had been a benef iciary of
other options.” I tossed it at him, he let it fall
three trusts and two foundations. He drew
to the black coffee table between the chairs.
from two of those resources. Now all I had to
“Really?” He looked skeptical.
do was f ind out who else was drawing and
“Really,” I assured him. “It’s certainly cheap-
how much—and where they were now.
er than killing me.”
If Cobie was smart, he would have plugged
He sipped at his water. He leaned forward
in his alternate identity some time ago and cre-
and put the glass on the table. He picked up
ated a f inancial backstory. But again—the
the envelope. He opened it and studied the
giveaway was how far the ripples had spread.
two papers, first one, then the other. He nod-
The details are irrelevant. It was mostly a
ded. “You’re fair. I’ll give you that. I’ll set up an
process of elimination.
automatic payment.”
I found Cobie in the next penthouse up.
“Thank you.” But I didn’t head for the door.
That was why we had no record of him—blot-
“Is there something else?”
ted or otherwise—leaving his building. He
“Maybe. It’s up to you.”
hadn’t. He’d burned his past and walked up
“How much?”
one flight of stairs.
“That’s the right question to ask.” I crossed
I knocked on the door.
to the bar, hefted the soda gun, studied the
After a moment, he opened it. He was wear-
buttons for a moment, then filled a glass of my
ing a silk dress, a kimono. No makeup. Just a
own. I carried it to the chair opposite him, sat
crossplayer at home. He looked nothing like
down and drank.
his avatar, just an ageless young-old man. He
“Let’s say that I have a pretty good idea
looked down the hall past me, both ways,
who’s after you. What’s it worth to you to stop
then stepped aside to let me in. “That was
them?”
fast.”
He studied me for a long moment. “You are
“You were stupid.” I walked into the apart-
good.”
Analog Science Fiction and Fact Page 36