“Eww,” said Tara, curling her nose.
Then both she and Dax rolled their eyes simultaneously, as though choreographed. Dax had not moved from her bedside. She was grateful for that. She smiled at him.
He continued holding her hand and cocked his head to one side, “Tara Dean, I cannot say it is my pleasure at the moment, but I would nonetheless like to introduce you to my security chief, William Angevine.”
The tall man in boots who had been trying not to stare tipped the brim of his hat, “Ma’am.”
Dax next nodded at the Rottweiler, “This beast is…”
“SNOTRA!” said Tara before he could finish.
Dax nodded, smiling, “Indeed.”
“It’s one of the ones from the dark place underground with the water.”
“That is correct.” His gaze turned to a disapproving scowl, “If you don’t mind, William? I am more than fine. You may personally,” he turned his chin to the ceiling and spoke slightly louder, “inform Joan that my normal physiological parameters are expanded under the current circumstances. As previously discussed on several occasions.”
The man with the fuzzy chops could take a hint. He whistled quick and low. The black dog snapped to its feet and trotted out of the room into the hall without a word.
The cowboy again tipped his hat at Tara politely, though he looked bewildered, “Ma’am.” He shrugged at Dax, “Sorry boss. No more interruptions.”
“Thank you, William,” said Dax without looking over. The door closed and they listened to the sound of footsteps fading away down the stairs.
She waited until the front door of the house closed before saying, “Jeezus! You got some overzealous staff or what?” Her free hand bundled the bed sheets in a fist as she felt her panic rising again, “I mean, I wake up, got cowboys and weird, fast dogs kicking the door down, cops are after me. I know they are! You know they are! It’s all too crazy!”
Tara tried to move off the bed, but he squeezed her hand, “You’re safe.” The press of his skin, the tone of his words stayed her, “I promise you’re safe, Tara. William, that dog, they’re 100% on your side. The police won’t come here for you. Neither will CNED. I promise.”
“Yes they will!” she insisted. “You don’t know them! This is…” her eyes closed. She felt high again with the distraction of the other man gone from the room, “…a still. You’re cooking alcohol here.” Her eyes snapped open, pleading, “No place could be more dangerous! You don’t understand! They will come! You hold my hand and I know! This is where it will all end! And how do you know my name?!”
Dax sighed, “One day, yes, they will come. That is the point. I cannot keep this from you. I cannot keep anything from you. I know your name for a few different reasons. We picked you up on the hovroad. But now that you are conscious, I know more about you from sitting here for the last five minutes than I ever dreamed.”
Tara sniffled and wiped her cheeks with the sheet, consciously repressing her sudden urge to lean over and kiss this well dressed man. The sensation was ridiculous!
I hate it. But I love it…
“How do you know more about me than I ever dreamed? Tell me right now,” she demanded.
Dax put his other hand on top of hers, soft as velvet, “I knew details of your personal history before you woke up because I’m a computer hacker. But I didn’t know these other things until you looked into my eyes. I know you know what I’m saying. Because you feel it too, right? Let me try.” He closed his eyes, concentrating, “Okay. You like whiskey. Better than vodka. You only like to get blended during the day when the sun is out. Vaporizing ganja at night makes you paranoid? When you do get high, you like to go to the park and watch kites fly. It reminds you of a childhood friend. Dragon kites are your favorite. You enjoy peppermint tea and your distaste for your mother’s curtains…? Your distaste for your mother’s choice of window treatments was apparently immense?”
He opened his rich amber eyes. He was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. She found herself becoming even more aroused by the heat of his skin.
“But do you want me to tell you the most important thing I know, Tara Dean?”
“What’s that?”
“I know who you really are.”
She gave up on resisting, “Oh yeah? I’ll believe anything at this point. Who am I, Daxane Julius Abner?”
Dax was giddy with happiness, averting his eyes from hers momentarily, as though afraid her very glance might wound him.
Then he looked back, “Your middle initial A is only that in public records, an initial. But it stands for Adler.” Dax sat up straight before continuing, “You see, Tara, you are the only child of Dr. Marvin Adler, the greatest computer scientist who ever lived. The man who wrote the Adler Code, the sentient operating system for cyborgs.”
Tara was speechless.
Mother lied.
She could sense it was true. Her administrators, even beloved Carlyle, had lied to her. All along, they had lied.
Her eyes pleaded with Dax as she began to cry again, “When I’d ask, later on, grown up a bit, they told me… my mom told me my dad just shared the same name with the famous scientist, Marvin Adler. That they both worked in the graphene prairie, but in different government divisions, that they had no connection! She told me that my dad, my Marvin Adler, was a tech consultant for the MTF?”
Dax laughed openly, “A tech consultant? I’m sorry, I don’t mean to make light of what you’re saying.”
Tara also found it strangely amusing, “It’s okay. I think we’re both high.”
“Possibly so. I suppose saying that your father was a consultant for the Bureau of Marijuana Tobacco & Firearms is not entirely inaccurate, though there was only one of him. He is the man responsible for the cyborg that was just standing in this room a few minutes ago. You are his daughter.”
The flood of information filling her mind continued as she considered this, “Then the animals on the road, those gray foxes? They weren’t foxes.”
Dax let her hands go and reached for the pitcher of water on the bedside table. She immediately wanted to touch him again, as though some part of her was empty in the absence of his contact.
“Here,” he said, “Let me pour us some water.”
Dax filled both remaining glasses, then turned back to her and took her hand in his once more, “Cheers,” he said, raising his glass. “To us.”
She smiled shyly, felt so silly, “Sure, okay. To us.” She squeezed his hand tighter, “Tell me about that gray fox. It was one of those Darkpool Labs’ Coyotes all the conspiracy freaks talk about, wasn’t it?”
Dax frowned slightly, “The Coyotes are no conspiracy. They were created by your father, and they were the weapon used to murder him. And yes, it was those same Coyotes who tried to kill you the other night on the hovroad.”
Tara shook her head, “I don’t think they were trying to kill me.”
“Well, they certainly have an interesting way of communicating that.”
“I know, I mean, I don’t know for sure. But I feel like they were trying to protect me. Or communicate. They wanted something, desperately, but not my death.”
Dax pressed her hand, “Well, whatever they wanted, I promise I’m not going to let them hurt you again. I meant it when I said you’re safe.”
Tara took a sip of water from her glass and set it on the bedside table, never letting go of Dax’s hand, “You have more of those robots here. Cyborgs, I mean. Like the Coyotes. I can feel it when I touch you. That one that was here, the others, they defend this place. Your still. Please tell me what’s going on! Who are you people? I mean, I already know. But how do I already know?”
Dax leaned forward and kissed her. She opened her mouth and kissed him back. Her tongue found his and she felt shocks of electricity race down her spine as she pulled him close. She could have kept kissing him for the rest of her life. It was like a first kiss, the last kiss, the only kiss. Unlike any other kiss she could remember.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “It’s been a long while.”
“I loved it.”
Dax smiled coyly, “Right. So that is how I know,” he said, leaning back into the chair, still holding her hand.
“I don’t understand,” she said.
“You have always, shall we say, had a way with men. Have you not? And a few women.”
Tara, who was normally not ashamed of anything, blushed. She felt a sudden urge to justify herself, “Oh yeah, no! Totally. It’s not like I just use it for sex! I mean I did when I was a kid, but…”
“That’s not what I meant,” he said calmly. “Sexuality is the most basic motivation for everything we do as human beings. It’s absolutely normal. But you know very well what I mean, Tara Dean. You have always been able to get people to do what you want. All you have to do is talk to them, and look them in the eye of course.”
Shit! Shit! Shit!
Tara’s first inclination was to deny it. Evade, deny! But as she held his hand in hers, she knew there would be none of that here.
“Yes,” she rolled her eyes. “I basically just flirt with people, male or female, ask them for what I want. And they do it, almost always. Unless they’ve decided ahead of time they don’t like me for some reason. A lot of women don’t like me, some gay men too. In that case I have no more ability to influence them than I would a fence post.” She looked at him pleading, “What is this? I always just thought I was lucky? Please tell me I’m not crazy.”
Dax smiled, “You are lucky, and not crazy. But you’re also a courtezan.”
“A who? A courtezan?” She perked up, looking puzzled, “Wait! You’re one too! Cour-te-zan…” she sounded it out.
“Yes, exactly. We are a minuscule subset of humans represented in equal numbers across gender and ethnicity; African, European, Arab, Asian, Latino, Indian… and the saddest part is that most of us go through our lives never knowing that others like us exist. Just as you did. That is, unless two of us are fortunate enough to come across one another, in which case the allurement begins. If those courtezans are of opposite gender, or of the same sexual orientation, they are bonded to one another for life.”
Tara swooned.
She wanted to feel his mouth on hers again, “Allured? I don’t know what that means. This is fucking insane! I just met you, and I can’t imagine spending another moment without you.”
Dax again smiled like a schoolboy, “I concur.”
She giggled, “You talk funny. So how did you find out?” She blinked as the answer came, then said, “Oh, your mother. She’s in government? No, was.” She looked sad as the sensation washed over her, “I’m sorry.”
His expression tightened, “She was in government, that’s true. She died in the summer of 2073. And yes, she and a few other high ranking members in government agencies around the world know of the courtezan hypothesis. That’s what they call it. We are often recruited as agents for the Mossad, CIA, KGB, MI6, MSS… you stream it. Some of the most successful intelligence operatives and,” Dax preened his own shirt collar with a clever grin, “criminals in the world, are courtezans. But mostly word of this, even in intelligence circles, is disregarded as an urban myth. It’s not like we can fly, or shoot lasers from our bums. We can’t even read minds, technically. The allurement we are experiencing is more akin to psychological osmosis. We have little control over it in one another’s presence. All we are able to do is push our thoughts, our suggestions onto others, wait to see what flows back. As I said, you have no doubt always had a way with people?”
Tara giggled, “Some people. When I was fourteen I got my geometry teacher to pull down his pants in front of the whole class. He did it. Unfortunately he didn’t snap out of it until a boy sitting next to me screamed once he saw his boxers. Poor bastard got fired. Mr. Delroy. Jeezus. I haven’t thought of that in ages. I was an evil little girl.”
Dax began running his hand up and down the back of her arm, causing goosebumps to raise on her flesh, “You must be careful with your power, Tara Adler Dean. I can train you. As you grow stronger, soon no one except the humdroids will be able to resist your suggestions. Whether they want to or not.” His voice flowed, warming her skin like summer rain, “So… knowing this, knowing what you do, do you think you would like to come work with us? Live with us? We sell drugs here, you realize? The best black market vodka in ten states. We’re doing this…”
She liked the sensation of finishing his sentences for him, “Not cause you need the money, but because it’s your moral imperative… your mother, you. You want to destroy CNED.” Her mouth fell open, “Jeezus, Dax. You want to destroy Vision. You want to bring down The Architect himself! He’s… everything about him is dark? His truth is dark. Are you alright?”
Dax was breathing rapidly, a sweat had broken out on his forehead. He sat up and leaned in, putting his hand unannounced on her breast. Her nipple got hard as he moved to kiss her, again saying, “I’m sorry, but I can’t take it any longer. I just need to…”
His mouth met hers and Tara fell back into bed, ripping open his shirt as she spread her legs and pulled him on top of her by his tie, “Oh… fuck me.”
“As you wish.”
“Yes,” she breathed. “It’s exactly as I wish. I need it.” She grabbed the fiery hair on either side of his head and pulled his mouth off her neck, forcing him to look at her, pupils dilating, “You’re mine, Dax Abner. All mine, forever. Whatever this is, you belong to me now. You understand?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Now put your lips back on my body where they belong.”
The Lawrence Journal World Sunday Edition – Editorial Holopage 03 February 25, 2080 – FAIR & BALANCED “TEN-SENT OPINIONS” by Martin Wringle, LJW
As our report on the disappearance of fugitive arsonist, Tara Dean continues, local political pundits are making it clear that public opinion on these events remains split along partisan lines.
From the Progressive end of the spectrum, local CNED Director, Ken Sapet: “So Martin, in terms of law enforcement priorities, you have a convicted, L3 boozebum wanted for aggravated assault, arson, drug possession, drug use, destruction of public property and grand theft hover, who’s just vanished? The honest, law abiding citizens of this city deserve answers! I say it’s time for complete background checks on every elected official associated with this case, starting with Sheriff Proudstar.”
We have a predictably different statement from Nancy Ferris, who represents the local chapter of the Traditionalist leaning group, NORAL: “Martin, it’s unfortunate that so many millions of digidollars in public tax revenue have already been spent chasing down one girl, who, yes, made a few bad decisions, but at the end of the day is just another victim of the neverending war on alcohol. While we certainly don’t condone violence or arson, you can’t help but note that most media references to this girl seem to focus on her sexuality, or her drinking. All the while, we’ve got feral cyborgs roaming the countryside, which pose a legitimate threat to our children, our communities, the very North American way of life we all cherish! So is it really a question of priorities, or is it a question of politics as usual?”
Check back next Sunday, same holopage, same column, for ongoing updates in our report on the peculiar, intersecting stories of a discovered wild cyborg and the ongoing hunt for fugitive arsonist, Tara Dean. Thank you, as always, for reading The Journal World.
Sponsored by The Progressive Party of Kansas.
Chapter 2.3 – Meanwhile in Downtown Lawrence
February 2080 – Two Years Eight Months Before Event.
At 26 years of age, Cyber-Deputy Danny Everquist had finally encountered a computer problem he couldn’t solve. It was making him feel self-conscious, about everything. Including his freckles, pale complexion and balding, carrot-toned hair. The relative privacy of his new, upgraded office was providing little remedy at the moment.<
br />
On one of the dual flatscreens before him was a slow moving torrent of computer code. He absentmindedly dragged one finger across his holotab’s tangible interface. The packet of data changed into its corresponding still image. The image was an aerial view of the Coyote attack and hovcar crash site on County Hovroad 1500 nine days prior. He cocked his head as he studied the holograph. A few seconds later, another finger swipe changed the display back to pure code.
“There!” he said, pointing to a line that looked like all the rest. “What do you see, Dina?”
A 30cm tall girl sitting cross-legged on his desk put her knitting needles and yarn to one side and squinted, twitching her nose, “The same thing I saw last time, Danechka. 1’s and 0’s and 0’s and 1’s.” She curled a strand of platinum blonde hair around her finger and flashed her electric blue eyes, “Actually I see shopping malls and swimming pools! Come on, Danechka!” she pouted. “I’m bored! I want a new outfit. Now, please?”
He flicked his finger, causing the image to return, “And back. Bam! There it is!”
“There what is?” asked the tiny girl.
Danny changed the image back to code and pointed to an empty space in the characters, “Nothing!” he laughed. “It’s nothing. Which is everything. It’s amazing!”
Dina looked down at her cheerleading uniform and sighed effusively, “You know I get bored when you talk computer. I’m tired of being a bolel’shchik!” she exclaimed in her faux Russian accent. “I want that Ashley Martin sundress back. The cute pink one from last week? Please?”
“Not right now, too busy.”
Dina picked up her knitting and stuck her lower lip out, “You always say that.”
Danny gave up and looked at his love impatiently, “I have to give the sheriff a report, honey-bunny. He’s gonna be here any minute. I can’t look like an idiot. Not after I dropped the ball the night this went down.”
“It’s not your fault, Danechka.”
“How is it not my fault?”
Voices in the Stream: Phase 02 (The Eighteenth Shadow) Page 4