So much for Feller's theory.
"So you need a method to remove this implant, if that's what it is, without alerting the implant that it's being removed," Philo says.
"Exactly," Feller says. "Any ideas? What did you pick up when the Bird People plugged you in?"
Philo sits quiet for a few seconds, reviewing the information. "I've been trying to sort it out," he says. "A lot of it was gibberish, probably meant to obscure their real systems. I picked up some codes, and some files, a lot of it genetic patterns gathered from their various - specimens."
"Yuck," May says.
"Nervous system data, circulatory parameters, pressure, speed, there was a great deal about the flow of various components through these systems," Philo says.
"Okay, anything about brains? Brain stems? Skulls?" Feller asks.
"No, not that I have found yet," Philo says. "But I will go through it again with that focus and see if anything stands out. There's a lot about blood. And neurons."
"Okay Philo," Feller says. "It's a start."
"In the meantime we need to create a diversion," May says, "so we can talk to Dr. Mangrove without actually talking."
"So you have to communicate without -- communicating," Philo says.
"Basically," Feller says.
"Perhaps I can fashion a way to listen in on Dr. Mangrove," Philo says.
"How?" May asks.
"I'm not sure yet," Philo says. "But let me try something."
"Okay," Feller says. "But we'd better hurry before the old man gets a terminal headache."
094 - A Café in Scar City
"Thanks for meeting with me," Edward says.
"No problem, always happy to help someone new in town," the dad from the soccer game replies. He's got a thick British accent and a pot of tea. Edward hasn't ordered anything - he's trying to stretch his budget. They're in a tent sticking off the side of a high-rise, a few stories up from the Scar City mayhem. Not unlike the rigs climbers use to spend the night on the side of a rock - except it's a whole cafÈ. It's festooned with sports memorabilia.
"I'm afraid I only know you as Speed Demon," Edward says. "I'm not Caution Cone, either. My name's Edward."
"Mike," the dad answers. "Nice to meet you for real."
"Your son is your biggest fan," Edward says.
"Yeah, he uses me to run around, you know, since he's in the wheelchair and all..." he trails off. "Sorry. I don't mean for every conversation I have to be about my wheelchair kid, but that's what seems to happen."
"I don't mind," Edward says. "Let me ask you something different. You said you work in security?"
"Oh! Yeah," Mike says, relieved to change the topic. "I look after buildings and construction sites and the like. None of that crazy activity you hear about - vigilante stuff, arrest services, I stay away from that. Can't risk getting bonked on the head. I've got the kid to look after. Oh there we go, back to the kid. Sorry."
"I really don't mind," Edward says. "Vigilante stuff, eh? Sounds sketchy."
"Oh yeah," Mike says. "You can hire somebody to go pick someone up on some charge you made up, it's ridiculous. Frontier justice it is, just like the Old West. This planet, that's what it is. The Old West. I used to love Westerns as a kid - Clint Eastwood, Pale Rider, all that."
"Me too," Edward says. "My favorite was The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly."
"That's a good one," Mike says, taking a sip of tea. "You sure you don't want anything?"
"Oh, no," Edward says. "I just had lunch. You go ahead."
"I was just wondering," Edward goes on, "and of course you don't have to even talk to me if you don't want to, but I've got a bit of a problem. I'm trying to find someone who doesn't want to be found."
"Well that's the whole population, isn't it?" Mike laughs. "Who in the heck in Scar City wants to be found? Nobody, that's who."
"Yeah," Edward laughs along with Mike. "Yeah, you're right. Problem is, I really ought to talk to this guy. See, I've got information for him. He's got a - condition. And, I work for this geneticist, and we found some things. That could help him."
"Are you his doctor?" Mike asks.
"Not exactly," Edward says. "Actually not at all. It was an accident, our discovery. But I think he'd want to know. It's just that, this person's profession is not being found. He's an Agent. EarthAdmin. So you see my problem. I was just wondering if you could keep an eye out for him." Edward slides a pair of photos across the table - one is Debra Millman, one is David Millman.
"That's two people," Mike says.
"Yeah, either one would suffice," Edward says. "Again, no obligation. But I'd sure appreciate it."
"Well, I can't guarantee, but hey, if I see him, or her, I'll drop you a line," Mike says.
"Hey, thanks," Edward says. "See you - and your biggest fan - at a game soon."
095 - A Conference Room in Scar City
The woman at the end of the long, sleek conference table stands. "As you all know very well," she says to her audience of twenty or so (some present, some holographic), "our project is fully launched and is reaching its most active stages. There is a great deal at stake here."
She steps back and points to a diagram covering nearly the entire wall behind her. She is petite and fierce, wearing a dark suit and black pumps. The attendees of this gathering, seated (or projected) at even intervals around the table, do not make a sound. The diagram depicts in great detail the outline of a skyscraper made up of a series of stacked sections. The top section is lit up.
"Obviously the VTL propulsion platform will be the final component to be completed, as it must be constructed atop the rest of the structure. It is critical that we remain on schedule and the we are able to access the materials and expertise required to reach that juncture."
She approaches the table. "The success of this project, and thus your participation in it, of course will depend to a great extent on stability. We require materials, security, and of course people. Our ability to make use of these resources depends upon each of you."
She looks around the room. "Everyone here has a stake in the success of this venture, and by extension, your own work," she says.
096 - Lair of the Bird People
"Miss Cass, dear, I've got a present for youuuuu..."
"Not now. I'm tired." Cass, queen of the Bird People, slumps in her chair next to the fire. It's been a long day of research, most of it fruitless. And reports back from the field are inconsistent at best. The subject is thwarting her efforts by doing as little as possible. He doesn't even seem to be having any thoughts.
"Now dear, this I think is worth it." A gentleman approaches, older, with the head of an eagle. The fabric of his waistcoat is decorated with gold thread and scroll designs. He's holding a long box, like one might use to store an antique sword.
"I certainly hope so, Steven," Cass says. "I need something to distract me."
Steven lifts out a pair of long, elaborate contraptions. On one end are sleeves, out of which protrude a variety of moving components. "Look, dearest. Aren't they beautiful?"
Cass takes one of the items in her gloved hands. Hands fashioned from feathers and fabric and lace, sewn together. Hardly the hands of a serious scientist or the ruler of a people.
"Try it on, dear," Steven insists.
Cass slides one glove into the sleeve and the contraption buzzes to life. Tiny mechanical components hum and turn. She slides her binoculars over her beak to look. "It is indeed beautiful," she says, approvingly.
"And spectacularly useful," Steven adds. "You can perform surgery with these, Cass. You have complete control. And look at this."
Steven puts on the other arm, and with a few gestures makes it fold up, unfold, and take out and put away a wide array of tools. Finally he closes the whole thing down into a casing that resembles the sheath on a sword.
"Very beautiful," Cass says. "Thank you, Steven, for showing me this. They shall come in handy. No pun intended. Or maybe intended."
Steven lets out a squawk. "O
f course. These shall serve you well, I hope, in your research."
"I think so," Cass says, and thinks about smiling.
097 - Dr. Mangrove's Workshop on the Tumbleweed
"Something has changed," Angelica's voice says to the interior of Dr. Mangrove's head. How many days has she been riding around inside of his brain, seeing what he sees, hearing his thoughts? He can't remember.
"What do you mean?" Dr. Mangrove asks, out loud. He figures he will talk like a normal person so as not to completely lose his mind.
"I mean, the door," Angelica replies.
She is right. The doorway to Dr. Mangrove's workshop has been altered. It is - deeper. It has more pipes and things running around it. Dr. Mangrove has no idea why. He could guess, but he must not. That might give something away to his brain-parasite.
"Look, Angie," Dr. Mangrove says, "the Tumbleweed is a hacked vessel. Everything on here is built, and rebuilt, and made up. We take off parts and salvage things and redesign it every day. So you will see things change. You can't get hung up on it."
"My name isn't Angie, it's Angelica," Angelica says.
"Whatever," Dr. Mangrove says. "I'm going into my workshop now."
----------
"Okay, he walked through!" May shrieks, and claps her hands. "Just now!"
"Did we get a reading?" Feller asks.
Philo's screen is a jumble of characters and lines. Soon they begin to stick together in shapes, eventually resembling the outline of Dr. Mangrove himself. The three of them have been waiting on the Tumbleweed bridge for what seems like hours.
May and Feller hold their breath while Philo sits for several minutes, piecing together their first scan of Dr. Mangrove's systems.
"Well, I see nothing unusual," Philo says. "yet."
"Nothing in his neck? No implant?" May asks.
"No, none that I can see. There's a little mark where the Bird People put the interface into his skin, but that's all."
Feller scratches his head. "How is that possible? We know they implanted something. We know it! We saw!"
"We did see, but clearly the technology is different from what we thought," May says.
"True," Philo agrees. "We will need more scans at different frequencies."
"Well fortunately, the good Doctor will walk in and out of his workshop several times a day," Feller says. "So let's hope we can scan the heck out of him. There has to be something in there."
"Yeah, he looks really weird," May says.
098 - A Limousine in Scar City
Sam and Rebecca have traded the back of an unmarked white van and two thugs for a limousine and several people in identical dark suits and sunglasses. These have to be Casino personnel - no one else runs around in matching outfits like that. The two of them have been installed in the back, their new entourage ignore them in the front.
"Hey, did you read that note?" Rebecca asks.
"What? Oh! Right. I totally forgot. We were supposed to be at Darby's because it was quiet, right? That turned out great," Sam says, digging in his pockets.
"You had a little fan club," Rebecca says. "Normally people leave you alone, at Darby's. Something's changed over there."
"Here it is," Sam says, unfolding a piece of paper.
"You can discard that," a voice says over a speaker inside the car. "It was from us. Then we heard you were getting arrested, so we just picked you up."
"Um, okay, thanks," Sam says. He unfolds the paper anyway. Sure enough, it's Casino. There's a gold Casino logo stamped in the bottom center. Above it is a handwritten note:
WE REQUIRE YOUR ASSISTANCE TO RETRIVE AN ITEM.
"That's it?" Rebecca asks, leaning in to read. The folks in the limo haven't even bothered to take her gun. The concept of "arrest" in Scar City is a loose one.
"They want my mad skills," Sam says, grinning. "to retrieve an item. I wonder what the job pays."
"Indemnity," the voice says through the speaker.
"Indemnity? From what? For what?" Sam asks. There is no answer.
"They seem to think they have something on you," Rebecca says. "That doesn't explain why I am still here."
Nothing through the speaker. The limo winds through city streets, people, vehicles, storefronts, gleaming lobbies, lights, and the rest of the life that populates the ground level of Scar City.
Soon the car veers to the left and down a ramp underneath a building. They curve around and around until they come out into a wide, low-ceilinged concrete area lit with rows of sickly yellow fluorescent lights. They park and the suits get out. One of them, a man with enormous shoulders, takes off his shades, tucks them in a breast pocket, and opens the door for the two passengers.
"I guess this is where we get off?" Sam asks.
"Don't be a comedian," Rebecca says, elbowing him. "Eyes and ears open." Always the captain.
They climb out.
099 - Agent Millman's Apartment
David Millman, Agent, stops in to check his anonymous post office box. There's another package, this time it's smaller. Just a thick envelope. He takes it up to his apartment.
Some haggling down at street level has resulted in Millman gaining possession of several large, digital display boards which he has leaned up against the interior walls. This only serves to further emphasize the industrial appearance of the unfurnished, concrete-floored apartment.
He peels open the envelope and pulls out a series of small cards, each of which he inserts into a slot on the side of one of the display boards. The boards come to life with diagrams, schematics, personnel, and the recent history of an organization called Vertical Technologies.
The contents of the box from earlier have been laid in neat rows on the floor. Some of these turned out to be copies or photographs of hand-written notes, seemingly taken from an engineer's notebook. Many of them are written backwards or in code. The first task will be to translate it all and index it.
Actually, his first task is to place pieces of tape over all of the cameras at the tops of the boards, so EarthAdmin can't pop in any time they like.
And, to set the outer windows to blur, so the folks he knows are looking in from across the street can't read the details on his case.
"I suppose I ought to let that Edward chap find me, and see what he wants," Millman says out loud to himself. He knows the young man from Darby's is in the hotel a block away. It's his job to know when he is being followed. He's an agent. Edward must have something important, to have come down here from Darby's. Usually those folks keep to themselves.
"Perhaps I will invite him to meet me for tea, like he did with that other fellow from the soccer game."
100 - Bridge of the Tumbleweed
"Did you get another scan?" May asks Philo. The two of them and Feller have been huddled on the Tumbleweed bridge for hours, while Dr. Mangrove has found excuse after excuse to walk in and out of his workshop - and through the scanner.
"Yes, this one is better," Philo says. "But still no components or alterations present."
"This is ridiculous," Feller says. "It's like, Dr. Mangrove has something wrong, but he can't tell us, but the Bird People put something in him, but we can't find it, and if he tells us, it will crush his head or something. Makes no sense."
Neptune Road Volume IV Page 4