The viewer showed a group of Reds slowly walking down a busy city street. They were conspicuously observing everything they encountered - buildings, signs, the pavement, other people. Some stopped to read graffiti or talk to a streeter, others simply watched everything they passed with a passive curiosity. Of course, almost all the other people were in the half daze of keeping one eye on the physical world and one eye on the nets. Even Jack noticed how the installation made it clear that the "normal" people were the ones who looked odd, as if they were automatons. Maybe it was just her recent experience with being unconnected that made her see it this way, or maybe she was just spending too much time with these people and their strange ideas. But there was no doubt who looked like the freaks.
"That's quite powerful," she said, her breathing getting a little shallow. She had a sip of her beer, and inhaled deeply.
"Their work is amazing," Phoenix said. "There's nothing like it."
"I would imagine not," Jack said, "I've certainly never seen anything like it." She felt Phoenix's hand move up her leg, the heat of flesh through the fabric of her pants. She felt herself getting flush and felt a rush of heat between her legs. Christ, she thought, as if I need this now. She lightly brushed Phoenix's hand away, and stood up. "I'm going to grab another beer," she said, smiling broadly, "want one?"
Phoenix looked slightly put out, but smiled back. "Sure." Jack escaped to the other room, allowing her heart rate to slow and the blood flow to return to her brain. She picked out a couple of bottles, and smiled at mojo and lafayette, who were still on door duty. "I'm really impressed, so far," she said. "Those performances are incredible."
"Thanks," mojo said, seeming to be genuinely pleased by the compliment. "I like to think that our chapter has some of the most artistic members." He leaned in close, and Jack could tell that he had had a few more drinks than she had by this point. "To tell the truth, some of those other chapters take the politics way more seriously than they should. I mean, the ideas are good, but it's really about the art, right?"
lafayette smiled. "Well, we think so," she said to mojo. To Jack she said, "The leaders are going to be making a presentation in about… " she looked at a stand alone clock, "forty minute or so; you'll get to hear plenty about the politics then." Jack smiled, her heart pounding. This was what she wanted - leaders, politics, a manifesto of some sort. She felt like she was getting close to something.
She also felt warmth behind her as the smell of Phoenix's cologne tickled her nose. "There you are," Phoenix said, taking the unopened beer out of Jack's hand. "I was wondering where you ran off to." mojo and lafayette smirked at each other, and lafayette leaned over to Jack.
"You've got some time before anything interesting happens," she whispered, "and there's some space back by the washroom." She winked, and Jack felt herself get flushed.
"Uh, thanks, I guess," she said, as Phoenix took her hand and led her toward the back hallway.
Jack found herself in the back room with Phoenix, the beer bottles safely on the floor in a corner. She had been full of tension for the past three days and had contemplated something like this only a day earlier. But here she was, in the den of the enemy, with a complete stranger… Oh, for god's sake, she thought, it's not like all the people I could fuck on the nets aren't strangers, too. She gave in and found herself enveloped by Phoenix's soft, strong arms.
Their lips touched and Jack was reminded how much more powerful body touching was to net sex. Jack hadn't been with someone physically in almost twenty years, and she nearly lost herself in the sensuality of the kiss. The smell of Phoenix's hair, the feeling of it between Jack's fingers, while their mouths found each other, their tongues touching lightly at first, then more forcefully.
Jack's hand, almost as if it had its own will, crept into Phoenix's overcoat, finding the delta between the legs. "Ah," Phoenix sighed.
"Aha," Jack said, "so that's what you've got." She grinned, then the smile turned to a gasp as Jack felt those long slender fingers on her stomach, then moving slowly into her trousers and between her legs. Those fingers have definitely been enhanced, Jack thought for a brief moment, but then she she really wasn't able to think at all. They touched each other, slowly at first, then their hands moved more feverishly, working into a rhythm all their own. They kissed and grabbed each other until they both came, Phoenix first, then Jack with a stifled yell as she buried her face into Phoenix's neck.
Afterward, they stood together, panting and glowing with exertion. "Thanks," Phoenix said. "You've very nice, and that was very, very nice indeed."
"Thanks, yourself," Jack laughed, the tension finally gone from her mind and body. "You'll still show me around the gallery?"
Phoenix playfully slapped Jack's cheek. "I'm not that kind, my dear. I'm genuinely interested in talking to anyone who will put up with my long winded ramblings." Jack laughed, and straightened her clothes while Phoenix did the same. "Shall we go hear what the exalted leaders have to say?"
"Yes," Jack said, picking up their beers from where she'd left them, "let's."
Chapter 14
Jack felt as if her mind was truly clear for the first time since this ordeal began, though she was not sure that sneaking off for a quickie was the best decision she had made in the past few days. However, what was done was done and she sat with Phoenix, talking about art and the difficulties that people who do not fit into the system of working for a firm have when trying to do their work. Jack discovered that Phoenix was gainfully employed as a writer for a prominent board devoted to performance art. One of the large firms funded the board as well as many exhibitions every year.
"I didn't know that even existed," Jack said.
"It's very uncommon," Phoenix said, "I was extremely lucky to get the position. Of course, I worked for them to begin with and was active in the community anyway. I knew who to go to and what I had to do to get it." Phoenix smiled languidly, and Jack understood that there were probably not very many desires that Phoenix didn't get fulfilled.
Jack laughed and said, "Good for you. I think most of us just coast through life, letting things happen to us. It's nice to meet someone who is making things happen."
"Well, you wouldn't be here," Phoenix indicated the entire room, "if you weren't interested in making things happen." You don't know how right you are, Jack thought, and sipped her beer.
"Can I ask an indelicate question?" Jack said, changing the subject.
Phoenix laughed. "I would think that delicacy would be behind us by now, wouldn't you?"
Jack smiled. "You put a lot of work into… " she ran her eyes up and down Phoenix's body, "this."
"I thought you might have noticed," Phoenix answered, almost preening slightly.
"To be blunt, why?" Jack asked, looking into Phoenix's slightly orange tinted eyes. "I mean, for so much of life the body is completely irrelevant. It's a whole lot of work for so little return."
Phoenix smiled, and leaned back slightly, getting comfortable. "That depends on the kind of life you live, my dear. For most people, what you said would be true. But I live my life in such a way that I spend most of my time here, in the physical world. I come to these kinds of events for the art, of course, but much more for the people, the bodies. I love the physical, and I choose to live in such a way as to get as much of it as I can."
"Fair enough," Jack said. She noticed that the lights began to dim, and Phoenix's hand crept over to her knee again. Jack covered the invading hand with her own, and they sat together, their hands lightly touching, as a viewer screen was lowered from the ceiling to obscure the wall at the far end of the room.
The viewer screen flickered once, twice and then the image of a man who appeared to be approaching middle age appeared on the screen. He wore his hair in a strange affectation of anachronism, it was some sort of washed out brown colour with haphazard streaks of grey concentrated at his temples. It was cropped fairly short, with two small upswept waves on top of his head. He was unshaven, but not bearded ex
actly, more like someone who has moved into a new apartment and forgotten to program the shaving unit in the washroom.
The most striking thing about him though, was his right eye. It was missing. He had some kind of a replacement, but there was something horribly wrong with it. Everyone had some kind of augmentation, and eyes were a common choice for replacement, but completely artificial eyes usually looked pretty much like the real ones. But this was like he had just shoved a black stone in the socket. It seemed like an ominous opposite number to his real eye, a flashing blue orb that seemed to emit its own light. Of course, that could just be a clever lighting trick or an enhancement, Jack thought. Still, the overall effect was definitely startling. Even if his face hadn't been projected on to a screen that was a story high, he would have commanded attention.
"Friends," he said, his voice oddly soft. "Thank you all for coming. We are holding events simultaneously around the globe today, a celebration of our work of this last year. And it is good to see you all." The image on the viewer changed to an array of viewers, each of which showed a recorder's eye view of a room not unlike the one Jack was in. Indeed, she thought she could almost pick out the live image of their event. The view switched back to the spokesman, who Jack now though of as BlackEye.
"Many of our chapters have been very active this past year," he continued, "and have done much to further the cause." He named some areas and their projects over the past year, and Jack noticed that the group who was hosting the event she was attending really was one of the more artistic of the bunch, as mojo had suggested. Some of the others were more obviously political, lacking the subtlety of the salon before and after piece, for example.
"I really don't understand some of those other groups," Phoenix said, absentmindedly groping Jack's upper thigh. "There's nothing artistic about trying to disrupt the public school network of Oceania. It's just stupid and annoying." mojo had moved into the main room now, and was sitting within earshot.
"We're a pretty loose association, y'know," he slurred, "I honestly don't understand a good half of what those other groups do, and I frankly wonder about them, too, sometimes." On the word 'them,' he jerked his head toward the viewer. "But they're supportive as hell, and they send us parts all the time, so whatever." He took a long pull on his beer, and seemed to retreat into himself a little.
Jack's focus returned to the viewer and BlackEye. He was expounding on the value of the groups' actions, then segued into talking about how the world needed to see how we all used machines without even thinking, how we accepted their roles in our lives without even recognizing where we ended and they began. "We are integrated almost at birth," he said, "machines in our bodies, and our bodies in machines. But who ever thinks of the machines? Do those people in the streets, in the offices, do they ever question their machines? Do they ask themselves, when they make a decision or perform a task, 'did I do that, or did my cybernetics?' We are here to ask those questions, my friends. I encourage you to keep asking those questions, every day, every where you go."
He gave some sort of salute, and most of the people in the room cheered and clapped. The viewer panned to images of other gatherings, the participants applauding, howling or waving their hands in the air. Jack turned to mojo, and casually asked, "So, who is that guy?"
mojo seemed to wake with a start and took his time getting his bearings. He recovered without any major difficulty, though, and Jack suspected that he had a personal recording device on him to catch any action he missed while dozing or otherwise occupied. "He's the nominal leader of The Red," mojo said, perking up slightly. "The rumour is he started the group in Europe, after totally dropping out of life in the firms and living as a streeter for a while. There's a lot of talk that he's a total outlaw, that he stole secrets from the firm he worked for or destroyed their network or something." mojo warmed up to the role of raconteur, and leaned in toward Jack and Phoenix.
"They say he took out his own eye when he was on the run because his retinal print was on file with the firm and he didn't want to be found. I think that's all a bunch of marketing bullshit myself, but there's no doubt that the guy's legitimately hard core. I met him a few times in person, and he's a true believer. Like I said before, this group is all about the art, but he's all about the revolution. Hard core, man." mojo leaned back, taking a sip of beer, and basking in the glow of his story. Now this was the kind of detail she was after. Whether or not the hype was true, it sounded like BlackEye was the kind of person who could be behind the human control program. And the European connection added fuel to her fire.
"Where's he based now?" Jack asked.
"Vancouver, I think," mojo said.
The pacific rim, Jack thought. This is starting to come together. Aloud, she said, "Interesting. There must be an active group there."
"Oh, yes," said mojo. "It's like home base for all of us. There's classes and meetings and all kinds of stuff going on. We all visit the headquarters when we are up there."
"I'm going to be in that neighbourhood soon, myself," Jack said, technically not lying since she had just then decided to head out there next weekend. "I wouldn't mind looking them up."
"I'll give you a map when we turn on the wireless," mojo said, "just remind me."
"Will do," Jack said, and mojo left to go take care of some group business. "That reminds me," Jack said to Phoenix, who was still lightly pawing at Jack's leg, "what's up with the network here? It's not just this building; it was down part way up the block."
“It's a Dead Zone," Phoenix said, as if that explained it all.
"A Dead Zone?" Jack said, "I've never heard of that before."
Phoenix laughed, "You really are a newbie here, aren't you?" Jack flushed a little, but Phoenix just patted her knee and smiled. "There are Dead Zones all over the place, in every city. The first ones were places where the everywherenet just never made it to, but most of them now have been created by the Reds. It's part of what every group does. They dismantle the infrastructure of the everywherenet in a small area, and then run hardwired access into it at the perimeter of the Dead Zone."
"What for," Jack asked, "are they just being difficult, or what?"
"I think it's partly that," Phoenix said, "but it's also so they can be connected to the network, but they're in control. They turn it on, turn it off. Most of them believe that the firms are monitoring people through the nets with more than the just the week old logs, and this is a way to ensure that isn't happening to them. They have all the same access, it's just metered, buffered, rerouted and wired."
"That's so… " Jack thought for the right word, "old."
Phoenix laughed. "Well, many of them do think of themselves as anachronisms."
The lights came up, and lafayette walked to the space in front of the larger viewer screen. "Okay, everyone," she addressed the crowd. "You're welcome to hang out for awhile, but that's it for the formal part of the show. We're going to turn on the wireless for the next ten minutes, and if you feel so inclined, we'd be happy to take any donation you'd like to leave. Thanks, everyone, for coming, and if you want more information about what we do, or want to be a part of our next project, leave your contact details in the guest book. There's a dead tree book on the welcome table, but if you don't know how to write, you can beam it over when the wireless is on."
Jack felt a familiar light buzz in her head and she flicked on her display. She walked over to her cash stash and pulled out a few coins for the donation jar. She also dropped her b0xenjester contact card in with the euros, figuring that keeping in touch with this group wouldn't hurt her efforts to get to see BlackEye. She heard Phoenix say, "I'll show you mine if you show me yours," and saw a contact card drop into her vision.
She passed her card over to Phoenix as well, saying, "I don't know when I'll get over here again, you know."
"I don't have to see you in the flesh, you know," Phoenix said, turning toward the exit, "it's just a preference. I'll be in touch." Phoenix winked at Jack, then disappeared d
own the stairwell. She took a deep breath, trying not to think about how strange this whole experience was, then turned off her display. She found mojo and lafayette, and thanked them for the event and information. She reminded mojo about the Vancouver map, and he dropped the file on her just before lafayette turned the wireless off.
"Thanks," Jack said, "I've got to catch a train back home."
"Have a good trip," lafayette said, and Jack smiled and walked down the stairwell. The metal grate at the bottom of the stairs was either unlocked or on a motion sensor, because it opened easily at Jack's touch. When she left the building, the rain had stopped, but night had come on and the street was dark. Jack walked to the train stop without turning on her display. The silence of the street seemed to make it easier to think about what she had seen and heard.
On the train she finally turned on her systems and went online. She had a message from Adrian waiting and saw that it was getting late. She decided to wait to read Adrian's message on the intercity train, and was already wondering how she was going to manage an entire week at boring Bellis when she had real work to be doing.
She watched the city go by through the images on her display. The night made the lights of the buildings both warmer and more eerie. Were the firms really trying to control people through the nets? Of course they were, but was it more than just the subtle need for a job and need for normalcy that the nets reinforced? Jack didn't know the answers, didn't know if there was an answer. She rode the train to the station in a daze.
Chapter 15
00100
I'm walking down the street, heading for the train when it hits me like the biggest download you've ever taken. The edges of my vision start to shake and I can't turn off my display even using the hard reset behind my ear. Then the display turns into something strange, a hybrid view of some kind of desktop and the street. But the street is painted in a thousand funny colours and the desktop is all wrong - there's no pointer for the files, no window to open or close. You just reach out your hand and take the file.
Beautiful Red Page 9