Life is a Beautiful Thing (4-Book Box Set)

by Harmon Cooper

  “Does it really look okay?” he asks, his hands on his neck.

  “Your cravat looks fine,” she assures him. “I like it better than the one you wore last night.”

  “You didn’t like that one?”

  “No, I liked it, I just like this one better.”

  “Why?”

  “It suits you. The green brings out the color in your eyes.”

  “I’d love to be a fly on the wall while these two are fucking,” I say aloud.

  Manuel laughs. “Those two don’t have sex. They are … what is the best English word for it? Ah, besties. They are like besties.”

  “How do you know they don’t get it on?” I return my Cuban cigar to my lips. Castro, Ché or Pacino? You decide.

  Manuel says, “All the rooms are monitored in the hotel.”

  My eyes shut and I send out a quick message to Yeshi.

  Me: Damn, do you think he’s been watching us make babies?

  Yeshi: We can’t make babies.

  Me: Thank Allah for that! Can you imagine a pollute-addicted half-human half-Humandroid with bangs and a tight little ass?

  Yeshi: Who has the tight little ass? Your new ass is mostly flat. Sorry to say.

  Me: Ouch! Still, if I knew I was being watched …

  Yeshi: What would you do differently?

  Me: Last longer, make a show of it.

  Yeshi: I know ways to make you last longer through Tantric ejaculation control techniques. If you’d like, I can show you how this is done.

  Me: Tantric ejaculation control techniques? Do tell!

  Manuel clears his throat, ending our rapid-fire iNet conversation. “It looks like Antimeria is saying something. Enhance sound.”

  Antimeria’s heavy breathing fills Manuel’s office.

  “Nelly … please … ”

  “Tell me something, dammit,” Nelly says.

  Antimeria’s voice suddenly deepens. “Do you really think you can stop the FCG? I know you, Nelly. I know your parents, your lifestyle. Just think about what you are doing! Think about what you have become! You are going up against the most powerful entity the world has ever created! You’re becoming a terrorist. I know you – think about what you are doing!”

  Nelly raises her EM railgun. It is a small affair, the same size as a classic Glock. She pushes the barrel of the gun against the center of his forehead.

  “You’ve never actually known me you stupid bastard,” she says softly. Her voice clips out for a second and returns a little louder. “You always treated me like a little girl. You have no idea what I’ve done, no idea what I’ve experienced nor what I am capable of. Do you know what they did to me in prison because of you and your businessdick friends? Do you!? Do you know what it feels like to be shoved inside a concrete box and fed through your ass?” She shoves the gun against his forehead. “Give me one reason why I shouldn’t pull this trigger right now. ONE REASON!”

  “Nelly!” Noah shouts.

  “I don’t know anything!” are Antimeria’s last words, just as Nelly fires the railgun with an anticlimactic Thwip!

  The cigar falls out of my mouth.

  “Well, there goes our hostage,” Manuel says, cracking his knuckles.

  I look away from the video feed. The splatter of blood behind Antimeria’s head reminds me of how serious our situation has become. This isn’t the first death I’ve witnessed over the last few weeks, but it shocks me just the same. I glance to Yeshi, who is watching the video cooly, calmly, while I’m over here struggling over my next breath.

  Maybe this is the difference between us. The death of another human triggers something primordial within me, something unreplicable in a Humandroid. I finally let out a stifled breath – shit just got real.

  FOUR∞

  “He didn’t know anything,” Nelly says as soon as she enters Manuel’s office. Noah is behind her with a worried look on his face, his cravat partially undone.

  “You weren’t supposed to kill him,” Manuel says. “This complicates things. We can’t use him as a hostage any longer.”

  She’s in front of me now in her designer Killer shirt, painted on jeggings and combat boots. I gave birth in your body! It’s really strange seeing a body you inhabited for an extended period of time alive and well in front of you. Bizarre.

  My eyes return to the shirt. Nelly really is a killer now. “When did you get that shirt?” I ask just to say something.

  “Yesterday. I had it delivered using an encrypted purchasing app.”

  “Did you use a body-masker or BlurYou?” Manuel asks. He looks from Nelly to Noah.

  “I’m pretty sure I activated it.” Nelly crosses her thin arms over her chest. “Let me check my log.” Her eyes close for a second and she gulps. “Crap … ”

  “Are you telling me you let a drone deliver something here without hiding your identity?”

  “Oh dear,” Noah says.

  Manuel’s eyes drop shut as he spits rapid-fire Spanish. He soon switches to English. “We are going to have company, either today or tomorrow,” he says to someone over iNet, “likely today. Activate all Comsuits and bring as much back-up as possible.”

  “This is my fault … ” Nelly sits, places her hands over her mouth.

  “YES, YES IT FUCKING IS YOUR FUCKING FAULT!” Manuel bellows at her, suddenly baring his teeth. “You are trying to fight one of the most powerful entities in the world and you’re ordering fashionable T-shirts? What the fuck, chica!?”

  Nelly cowers. “I’m sorry,” she says softly. “I just needed a pick-me-up after getting out of prison.”

  “Everyone needs a pick-me-up sometimes!” Noah adds nervously.

  “People are going to die so you can wear that stupid fucking T-shirt, so you can have a pick-me-up!” He curses under his breath for a moment in Spanish.

  Nelly’s face reddens. “I wasn’t thinking. The pain medication … ”

  “You weren’t thinking?”

  Steam is practically billowing out of Manuel’s head now.

  “I was on pain meds last night,” she says, pointing at her bruised face.

  “Why didn’t you stop her, Noah?” he asks.

  “I needed a pick-me-up too and wasn’t thinking straight! I hadn’t seen Nelly in … ”

  “This is my fault, not his,” Nelly says, defending her droid. “I thought that ... I thought that I had activated it. Shit, okay. This is my fault, so … ” She bites her bottom lip. “I’ll stay and fight too, but I’ll need some weapons, a mistmask if you have one and some armor.”

  Manuel ignores her comment. “They are probably sending their top reps … the crazy bitch with the white hair and the one that looks like you.” He nods at Yeshi.

  “Rinchi?”

  The drug kingpin touches his Adam’s Apple, clearly remembering something Rinchi had done to him. I can’t tell exactly what Yeshi is thinking, or should I say calculating, but I assume the worst.

  “You can’t stay,” I tell her.

  “I have unfinished business with Rinchi,” Yeshi says firmly.

  “We all do,” Manuel says, “but we need to face it, MercSecure might be coming at us with all they got. Hell, they might send their top twenty reps and some support fire via a fleet of fucking Comsuits. The best bet, at least for the four of you, is to get to Cuba and plot the next move.”

  “I want to stay,” Nelly says.

  “No,” Manuel glares at her. “You’re a mother, and you should be with your baby. That’s what is best in this situation.”

  “What about you?” I ask.

  “I’ll be giving them everything I got,” he says proudly, “for Carloza, for Mexico.” Manuel thinks for a moment. “What do you say about something like this in America?”

  “We can’t all be Washingtons, but we can all be Patriots,” I offer.

  “No, not that one.”

  “This is what you made me America.” RIP, Tupac.”

  “No, not that one either … ” he says. “Come and take it you coc
ksuckers – that’s the one! You guys used that in the Revolutionary War, when the British were the biggest dicks around. My, how the tables have turned. Listen Meme, contact Richard Hewman and let him know you’re coming. I’ll arrange transport within the next hour. MercSecure may be on their way and we need to be ready.”

  FIVE∞

  Rinchi was prepared for anything.

  She was the first to arrive at MercSecure Headquarters, here because of a warning order sent to her by Lorem Ipsum

  Report to MercSecure HQ at 1500 hrs. Nelly has escaped from prison. Humandroid Noah kidnapped Antimeria and his baby daughter Rebel. All four are purported to be at Manuel’s (formerly Carloza’s) hotel in Mexico. Sauria believes that Anonymous One and Two may also be present; he further believes that your Humandroid twin, Rinchi, is likely Anonymous Two.

  You will join the team tasked with live retrieval of Antimeria and Baby Rebel and capture of Nelly, Noah, Anonymous One and Anonymous Two.

  More information to follow during mission brief.

  Rinchi hadn’t much thought about Yeshi since returning from Iraq – it really didn’t matter if she was alive or dead. If she was alive, Rinchi would quickly overpower her. After all, Yeshi had always been the weaker of the two.

  Thoughts in the form of video replay came to her regarding the time she’d spent back at the Humandroid flat with Anna and Yeshi. Their rack of shared clothing, the occasional trips to the mechanic after being abused by the more violent customers, the point of their existence clearly defined. Now the point of her existence was defined in a different way, a way she much preferred. To Rinchi it was better to be the fucker than to be the fuckee. Being an agent of death allowed her to have the final say in a number of things, the most powerful of which was the ability to extinguish life.

  Her job would be a dream come true if only she could dream.

  The door hissed open and Rinchi immediately performed a vitals scan. The man’s name was Bhairav and his life chip identified him as a Gurkha from Nepal. A quick cross-reference with her knowledge of Hindi told her that his first name meant Lord of Terror. His last name, Mahamrityunjaya, meant great victor of death. It was apparent that he came from a long line of Shiva worshipers.

  “Hello, representative 212,” he said in slightly accented English.

  “Rinchi.” She remained standing, away from the table. Not knowing what to expect from the top five reps, she figured it would be better to be ready for anything, including a show of force.

  “Bhairav,” he said, “but you can call me Rav.”

  “Rav. You are representative three?”

  “I am.”

  “Have you met the others?”

  “I have.”

  Rav was sinewy and dark skinned; he looked to be in his late twenties or early thirties. The sides of his head were shaved but the hair on top was long enough to spike into a Mohawk with the right amount of gel. There was a tattoo of a Nepali flag on his neck and various Sanskrit characters trailing around his arms. One of his eyes had been replaced with an artificial bio-optic prosthesis.

  “Is there anything I should know about the others?” she asked. He seemed friendly enough and he didn’t start their conversation by attacking her, as Keva had done the first time they met.

  “Rep number two used to be known as Captain America, but Marvel Entertainment brought a lawsuit against him for using the name of one of their top-grossing characters. Now we just call him Murika.”

  “Murika?”

  “Yeah, he’s an all-American boy or whatever they say here in this country. Served in the Syrian Intervention, The Afghan Recap War of 2078, the Ukrainian Freedom War, The North Korean Conflict, the Arctic Wars – this was where I met him – and the fight for the disputed islands between Japan and China. I forget the name of that one.”

  “The Little Island War.”

  “That’s the one. So, there’s Murika, he’s rep number two. I’m rep number three. Number four is a woman from Atlanta named Beyoncé,” he said with a hint of admiration in his voice.

  “After that pop singer who put herself in cryostasis?”

  “It’s become quite a popular name, especially in America’s more insular urboplexes.”

  “What’s her story?” Rinchi asked.

  “Bitch, if you needs to know my story you can ax me your own damn self.”

  Beyoncé stepped into the room, her hair pulled into two tight balls resembling Mickey Mouse’s ears. She was a short black woman with a tight body and a predatory face. A quick vitals scan told Rinchi that both her legs had been replaced.

  “Who the fuck is this?” she asked, twisting her lips at Rinchi.

  “Hello Beyoncé! Namaste to you…” Rav’s eyes lit up. “Did you get the birthday card I sent you?”

  She cocked her head at the Nepali man. “I told you to quit sending me that shit. You ain’t my boyfriend. How many times do I got to tell you this? I only date American boys. Read my big lips – American B-O-Y-Z.”

  “But I have an American passport … ”

  “Yeah, but you from India, which means you ain’t American.”

  “I’m not from India,” he said. “I’m from Nepal. We’ve been over this … ”

  “What you smiling about droidie?” Beyoncé asked Rinchi.

  “I’m just happy that no one has attacked me. Last time I met in this room with Keva, she cut my tongue out.”

  “Oh that’s right, that’s where I remember you from. You the rep who cut Keva’s tongue out. Damn, you a bad bitch!”

  “You’re the one who cut her tongue out?” Rav asked, he was nodding now, clearly impressed. “Well it is about time someone did something to her. You see this?” He pointed at his modded right eye. “She’s the reason I have this.”

  Beyoncé touched her ear, which had been replaced. “She didn’t just cut it off, she dug out all that shit inside too, my eardrum and whatnot – I’m not a doctor but you get what I’m saying here. All this shit had to be replaced. Bitch would have got my brain too if MercSecure hadn’t threatened her.”

  “She can be difficult.” Rinchi remembered being assaulted at the club and nearly blown to bits in Iraq. Difficult was an understatement. Still, there was something about Keva that she liked.

  “If I ever see that crazy bitch again I swear … “Beyoncé tensed up. “That ain’t no way to treat a fellow rep.”

  “Relax, Bey, you know I’ll protect you if we run into her.”

  Beyoncé nearly fell over laughing. “Rav you ain’t going to do shit if she attacks us. Man, she’ll have you hung up by your balls in five seconds flat.”

  “That’s not true!”

  Rinchi put an end to their playful bickering by asking, “Who is the fifth guy? Number two is Murika, three is Rav, four is you.”

  “Shit, I’ll be three soon enough.”

  “And number five?”

  Rav said, “Number five is Walt. He’s an older guy, pushing sixty-five. He’s clean cut and has been a mercenary for longer than I’ve been alive.”

  SIX∞

  Rinchi and reps two through five stood in front of the Super Osprey, suited up and ready to go. Murika, the leader of the team due to his ranking, walked in front of the four with his hands behind his back.

  “Rav and Beyoncé, I want you two in Comsuits.”

  Murika was a serious man with the body of a Greek God. His hair was brown and cut short, his eyes green. A vital scan told Rinchi that he had one arm that was bionic and that both eyes had been replaced with bio-synthetic counterparts.

  “Rinchi, Walt and I will take care of the inside action.”

  “You see that,” Beyoncé complained, “you said action. Ain’t going to be no action outside.”

  “We need Comsuit support due to the fact that they have increased the perimeter defense of the hotel,” Murika explained. “Our live satellite feed tells us that they have a small fleet of Comsuits, six in all.”

  “Which model?” Walt asked.

  W
alt’s face was unusual in that it was heavily scarred and repaired only enough to restore function, but otherwise unreconstructed. This is who I am; this is where I’ve been and what I’ve done his face proclaimed. He was a professional soldier’s professional soldier; one tempered in the forge of war but still in possession of his humanity. His eyes had seen much of the worst that men can do.

  “Andromeda M31s.”

  Walt cleared his throat. “Those are about five years out of date; I’ve used them before. They’re a little bit larger than the new models, about three times the size of a normal human, but they’re solid enough. Also, their reaction prediction time is enhanced, but it can over-anticipate the user’s actions, especially with novice or unskilled users.”

  “Which means?” Beyoncé asked. “Keep it simple, Walt. English is Rav’s second language, remember?”

  “Hey!”

  “It means that their attacks miss around four point seven percent of the time. Also during extended or intensive use, the suits can overheat and potentially shut down at the wrong damn time.”

  “They sound like shit,” Beyoncé said.

  “They’re not too bad, actually. M31s are fast and they have two rapid-fire PHASRs on their backs, wasp-wing style, which have a high degree of autonomous combat AI and can choose their own targets and operate independently if the operator is incapacitated or killed. A real common mod is independent lift and tracking – the PHASRs can undock from the suit and pursue. The suits also have a hooked arm, which is useful for prying things open or scaling buildings.”

  “Shit. What we packing?” she asked.

  “Same as always,” Murika said. “Dark Matter 96ers.”

  Beyoncé clucked, “Man, can’t MercSecure afford something a little better than that?”

  “I like the DM 96ers,” Rav said. “They’re fast, reliable.”

  “And ours are heavily modded,” Walt reminded her. “Nowhere else in the world will you find DM 96ers with FAE smart missiles.”

  “Fuel-Air Explosive,” Rinchi said.

  “Thanks for spelling it out, droid, but the problem with FAE is that it can spread. You ever have some of that shit backfire on you? I almost lost a leg in Ethiopia because of that shit.” Beyoncé laughed, “Hell I did lose a leg, this one to be exact.” Her hand came down to her left thigh.