by Jaym Gates
“I’ve got enough clutter up there already. The last thing I need is a whole crowd’s chatter.”
“Sure.” Obviously he disagreed.
Keilani gave up on trying to sleep. Extricating himself from Ruid’s lap, his annoyed sigh didn’t end until the door to his room slid shut—just shy of a slam.
I had something like an apology loaded when I turned back to Ruid, but he hadn’t moved. His gaze remained distant. Again he played the perfect houseguest, pretending not to notice his hosts’ bad behavior.
“You know, you can tell him no.” I tried to sound casual.
His reply came faster and certainly sharper than I’d expected. “I have. Probably ten times now.”
A few minutes passed with both of us pretending to focus on our entopics.
“He’s got the hardware for it, he’d probably switch genders if that’s—”
“I’d never—” Ruid’s mouth snapped shut just as quickly as it had fallen open.
At least I had his full attention now.
He tried again, his tone a shade closer to his usual calm. “I’m just not interested in that. Not just not from him, not from anyone. I told him that.”
I nodded. “Kay can be stubborn. He’s used to getting his way when it comes to that sort of stuff.”
“Yeah.” He shifted to stare at the floor—and probably just the floor this time. “He still hangs on me, though. I like Keilani just fine, but … not like that.”
“I’ll talk to him.” I used my Mom voice, the one that promised I’d make everything alright.
Obviously it didn’t work.
“Please don’t.” Doe-brown eyes pleaded.
I tried another tactic. “Are you planning on leaving next week?”
The worry in his face intensified.
I didn’t drag it out. “Of course not. That means you’ll have been staying with us for over a year.”
He opened his mouth—something about looking for his own quarters—but I cut him off. “And we wouldn’t have it any other way. You’re the only secretary I’ve ever endured for more than a week and the only one who can figure out my network. Like it or not, you’re family, kid.”
He looked dubious. I went on. “Which means I’m not handing you back to the Night Cartel or any other skin-smugglers. When we took you in, I told you you’re welcome for as long as you like. That deal’s the same regardless of who you are or aren’t sleeping with.” I leveled my no-bullshit look. “Are we on the same page about that?”
His head bobbed.
I matched him, sealing the deal. “If Keilani needs to be brought on board, either one of us can give him that talk—or five across the lips if that’s what it takes. Whatever you’re most comfortable with, okay?”
“Yes, mam.”
“What’s that ‘mam’ shit?”
He half grinned. “I’ll talk to him.”
“And I’ll pick up the pieces.” I leaned back in my chair. “Anything else on your mind?”
“Well, while we were talking …” Had the little bastard been sifting through the mesh this whole time? “I found this.”
—
[Still awake, Pops?]
My muse’s soulful voice hummed from the back of my skull. [We’re both in trouble the night I bunk down before you.]
Pop’s voice was always a comfort. Since he started virtually haunting me our relationship had never been better.
Ruid had only turned in a few minutes ago and I was planning on doing the same, but I hated the idea of letting a job sit cold over night.
[What can you make of this?]
I pulled the virtual flyer onto the fore of my AR. It had all the style of a brothel signboard advertising Morningstar Day discounts—read like one too.
“Adrift? Alone? Afraid?” a breathy voice interlaced with the ad read aloud. “Seeking meaning, finding mirages? Assaulted by info but starved for intimacy? Join the Heartsync. Never be alone again.”
I cut off the last syllable as it echoed into infinity. [It might be nothing, but it sounds like a synergist thing. Maybe this Vine guy’s into it.]
[Ruid found this?] Pops asked.
I couldn’t help but nod. Maybe the kid had the makings of more than a secretary. [See what you can find on this Heartsync group—limited to the station.]
[I’ll do what I can, but if you want local, the mesh might not be the way to go.] Pops had never been into tech. Somehow, virtual resurrection hadn’t changed that.
[You’re thinking Keilani? Street buzz.]
[Sure am.]
[Good call. I’ll see if I can get him on it in the morning.]
He made an approving noise that used to go along with a nod. [What else ya need?]
[Anything you can find on these Neo-Synergists—real stuff, not just hypercorp news.]
[Alright. Night, hun.]
[Night.]
—
“Get jacked, blimpsteak!” Keilani fearlessly threw a finger in the face of the bruiser morph leaning over him. The woman was easily twice his size, but still she tripped back from the growling street cat. Seeing she wasn’t getting what she wanted, she tromped off into the bustle of untraceable market stands.
That was my boy.
The street café’s heavy chair whined as I pulled it back and took a seat. I caught a glimpse of sharp teeth. The snarl vanished as Keilani realized it was me. “Sorry, I think we missed brunch. It took longer than I expected.”
Pops hadn’t found much overnight. This Heartsync group was new to Parvarti, with the first mention on the local mesh only cropping up about a month ago. There was some chatter about meetings in the warehouse wards, invitations, and skepticism about it being some religious bunk or self-help scheme. The number of testimonials was growing, mostly among aerostat residents, not visiting dupes.
I woke Keilani up early and told him what I wanted to know—if anyone knew where to find real-chat, it was him. Of course, he wanted to know what it was worth. I agreed to call it even on the shoes. He talked me up to blintzes.
“What did you hear?”
“A lot of garbage. ‘Find what you’ve been missing,’ that sort of stuff.” He ordered an orange juice when the waiter stopped by—me, just water.
“Sounds like them. Where are they?”
“I expected them to be mesh-based, but that’s the weird part. A friend of a friend said they’re into physical meet-ups—send invitations and everything. She dropped in on one. Anyway, she says a couple of weeks ago she had a few drinks with this guy at that uplift bar, Chainlynx. The next thing she knows she’s got an invite to this Heartsync meet-up with her mesh ID coded in, like it was custom just for her.”
“Did she say what an invitation looks like?”
“Nope.”
Damn. “So, what’d she see?”
“That’s the crap-part. She went, but chickened out when she got the eye from some twitchy jenkin bouncer.”
“Well, where was it?”
“The warrens. Around the ring C warehouses—C-1580.”
“That’s a start.”
“Not much of one. I peeked in on stat-security. Fifteen-eighty’s been a tomb for the last couple weeks. A tomb where rubes do kick and get what they deserve trying to buy black market XPs, but still a tomb.”
The boy had earned his blintzes—even if it did sound like a dead end. Except …
“Jenkin bouncer? Don’t see those very often, huh?”
“No, but they’re not exactly sun-whales. We’ve got enough on the station that tracking down one isn’t going to be easy.”
“Maybe. But tracking down one who spends his time squatting outside a ring C warehouse might be easier.”
“If they keep to the warehouses at all.” He shrugged. “I don’t know. Sounds weak.”
“Even a w
eak start’s a start.” He was right, but it wasn’t like I had any better options. I wasn’t in the mood to argue tactics, though. I changed the topic to the first thing that came to mind. “What’s the story with you and Ruid?”
He gave a big blink, as if I’d fired a camera flash in his face.
“Mom.” He stretched it into a one-syllable way of saying “mind your damn business.”
I wasn’t having it, though, not after the talk I had last night. I had tones that trumped his. “Seriously.”
He frowned. “I don’t know.”
We silently retreated to our corners as a sari-clad waitress delivered our drinks.
As savvy as he could be, and as adult as his body made him look, it was easy to forget Keilani wasn’t even twenty years old. It made it all the more unsettling when he pulled whiny teen tricks. I considered letting Ruid take first crack at him, like we’d discussed. But then figured, why not sort it out right now.
“I know it’s not the message you get out in the clubs, but not everyone wants to sleep with you, ya know.” I took a slow swig from my spotty glass.
“Mom. Really?” I could hear just a touch of his feline vocal implant kick in, a subtle growl undertone.
“Ruid works for me, he’s a guest, and he’s still touchy about the whole Night Cartel thing. Poor kid still doesn’t know where he’s from or who his people are. I know you like him, but I don’t want to make him uncomfortable. Okay?”
Keilani’s face went cold. His features were designed to be expressive, but, when necessary, could lock away his thoughts completely—a useful trick for a street bokkie. It made it easy to tell when he was locking it down, though.
“Are you telling me not to see Ruid?”
“I think that’d be a trick since we live with him, but no. Just think about his situation. He might feel like he can’t be up front with you.”
“You think I’d try to make him uncomfortable?”
“I think sometimes you don’t see the things you don’t want to see.”
Shit, that sounded worse than I’d meant.
His chair squealed back.
I scrambled for anything. “Your food should be here any minute.”
Obviously he didn’t care. Wherever he was headed, he chose the route that put his back to me and turned the first corner he found.
—
The waitress’s presence made me realize I’d been staring dumbly. I assumed I’d missed her question. “Just the bill.”
Keilani’s still likely warm chair screeched. The waitress smoothed her burgundy sari as she took a seat, ignoring the threat on my face. “Wehilani Lonoehu?”
“That name’s for family.” I made sure the threat was more than implied. One of the benefits of hiding your name: whenever you hear it, you know some asshole wants your attention.
“Of course.” She gave a patronizing little grin and inclined a palm toward herself. “Harliss Vine—though I believe my former associates spoiled our introduction.”
“Yeah. They got your picture all wrong.” She didn’t look at all like the image of the thick-faced menton the Neo-Synergists had forwarded. It would have been a simple matter for Vine to resleeve, though—standard procedure, even, if she was looking to disappear.
Sitting down for lunch with the woman hired to track you down, however, that was hardly standard. How’d she even know who I was?
“I’ve come to ask you to cancel your arrangement.” She sounded professional, clearly thinking bargaining was an option.
“Come on, you’ve got to know that’s not how this business works.” It was so obvious I barely shook my head. “So what is it? What’s so special that you’d come right out like this?”
“I’m not asking for myself. I’m asking for the entire Heartsync.” Her tone stayed formal. She wasn’t pleading—yet.
“Am I supposed to know what that means?” Sounded like Ruid’s hunch about that ad was panning out. Smart kid.
“I wouldn’t expect the Octavian community to explain my intentions here. They don’t understand. Their group is built too much on the mind. My new commune is built on the heart.”
That name was coming in to dock.
“That’s what the Heartsync is? Another collective intelligence community.”
“A perfected community. Transhumans are not machines. Our shared network cannot be entirely about memory and experience—it’s more than data. It must be about intimacy of both the mind and the soul.”
What a load. I think my head tilt got that across.
“Most are skeptical, more are afraid—it takes a great deal of courage to reveal everything to the world,” she went on applauding herself. “Once you lay yourself bare, though, you can be whatever you care to be. And where better to find daring, liberated souls than here on Parvarti? My group tempts them with something familiar, but shows them something very new.” Her open palm crossed to my side of the table. “The transhuman experience is not meant to be suffered alone, Miss Lonoehu.”
It all sounded like vintage New Age crap.
“Yeah,” I stretched the word out. “Well. Damn good of you to turn yourself over.”
Even her frown looked proud. “Since I haven’t done anything illegal, I don’t feel I have much to fear from you Miss Lonoehu.”
My little scoff wasn’t meant to reassure her. “That’s where a lot of off-station folk slip up. I’m not security. I don’t work for the Morningstar. So I don’t care much about ‘legal.’ And so long as things stay quiet, neither does anyone else around here.”
Vine nodded shallowly. “I see. Well then, by all means, take me in.” Her other palm crossed the table, offering both wrists.
I tugged the diamond-wire cuffs from the pocket on my holster, proving that I was more than willing to take her up on her suggestion. “If you want, but we don’t have far to go.”
“Oh, I insist. This is your job, after all.”
Both chairs screeched. She politely put her wrists behind her back and let me slip on the restraints. At the base of her neck, magenta flecks winked from a porcelain node. Gazes from a nearby table distracted me. Dodging my look, they found new interest in their flatware.
“This really is a shame. The Heartsync could help someone close to you someday.”
“Not likely.” I tightened the wire.
“Or maybe we already are,” she said, almost under her breath.
I spun her around. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Something in her expression changed, something subtle. The look of confidence flushed.
“What the—” Vine tried to bring her arms up, but the cuffs tugged her back. Shocked eyes shot to me. The cocky calm was gone, as was any hint of recognition. “Get these off of me!”
“What? You’re the one who wanted them on!” I hadn’t meant to raise my voice quite that much. More than just the nearest table noticed.
Then the screaming began.
—
I leaned over my desk, massaging the bridge of my nose.
Security hadn’t bothered with me for long. Two street officers I didn’t know showed up not long after Vine started shrieking her head off. I tried to explain, but I didn’t seriously have a clue. It took them no time to pull the waitress’s records—something I should have done. Nakshatra Klein, they said, a Parvarti local who’d been working at that café for the better part of the past year. I started to argue, to tell them who she really was, but it started sounding crazy even to me. I called it a mistake and took back my cuffs. The cops confiscated them. I dropped the names of a few friends I had in station security and things didn’t get worse. Miss Klein wasn’t so forgiving, but I got out of there before she was done cursing.
I’d need to find a new place for blintzes.
Back in the office—the one with just the picture of the beach—I tried to figure
it out. Vine hadn’t offered anything new so I was back to Keilani’s lead. Security feeds from the past week, all from ring C, flickered through my entopics at an accelerated rate. I couldn’t say I was paying attention, but I knew Pops was. Despite the strangeness afterward, my thoughts kept coming back to Keilani.
[Was I ever that much of a pain growing up, Pops?]
He gave a gravelly scoff. [I assume you don’t want the real answer.]
The real answer was that Pops was only a facsimile of my father, derived from what we could salvage from the shot-up remains of his cortical stack. It wasn’t enough to bring him back, but in the three years I’d been working with the personality remnants, it had started to actually feel like him. He didn’t have all the memories—Kauai, for example—but sometimes that was easy to forget. Or to simply ignore.
[Of course not, all those times I called you kolohe, I never meant it.]
Death hadn’t impeded his sarcasm. [Thanks, Pops.]
What was I worried about? Keilani knew Parvarti better than I did these days. Seeing the way he prowled off, there was even a good chance he’d make more than a little extra tonight. Supposedly there was a good market for angry sex.
I shoved all that out of my head. [You find anything?]
[Yeah. Here’s your jenkin.] A still from a surveillance feed sprung up. I noticed his muttonchops first. How or why they were bleach blond, while the thin strands trying to cover his scalp were muddy brown, I didn’t even try to understand. He was trying to look tough, leaning on a length of steel pipe while picking protruding teeth with a too-long pinky nail. Jenkins, by design, looked like rats, but this one seemed to be embracing the look.
I minimized the image, having gotten enough for the moment. [Great. Where was this taken?]
[Over a week ago. He spent two nights playing doorman at C-1580. I’m sifting through security records to see where else he might show up.]
[You’ve got an image of Vine too. See if you see him around.]
Pops gave an agreeable hum.
Keilani had mentioned a friend had actually stopped by the warehouse. If Pops had found vids from the night, maybe we could find her … or someone else who had actually shown up looking for this Heartsync group. Someone with an invite. Or there might be a simpler …