Altered States: A Cyberpunk Sci-Fi Anthology

by Roy C. Booth

  This can’t be true, he thought. Could this be the gorgeous woman? How had she found out who he was, and what his phone number was? Was this a dream? Was he still asleep in his bed, making up a sexual fantasy?

  “I don’t believe you,” he said. “Show yourself, or I’ll hang up.”

  The tiny screen flickered to life for an instant, long enough to see this was the pretty woman indeed. She looked even better than yesterday. If this was a dream, he hoped he wouldn’t wake up for a while yet.

  “Yes, all right,” he said. “I saw you at the Lunch Mob indeed. How did you find me? And why did you turn off the visual so quickly?”

  “There’s no time for that now,” she said. “They may be tapping this line, and the smaller the signal, the better. We have to arrange a meeting. It’s important and urgent.”

  “Who are ‘they’?” he asked. “And what’s this all about?”

  “I can’t explain that over the phone. Let’s say we meet at the Orville Wright Mall at the airport, in fifteen minutes. And listen: other people may try to get in touch with you. Stay away from them, or if they show up at your place or where you work, don’t answer their questions. Pretend you took so many uppers and emoboosters that you can’t think straight anymore, and flash them your warmest smiles. One more question: you don’t wear recyc jeans, do you?”

  “I tend to stick to recyc T-shirts, basically. Why?”

  “Wear the one you wore yesterday. See you in a minute.” The line was dead. He hesitated for a moment. This didn’t look too good, but he couldn’t resist the idea of getting to meet this gorgeous chick again. So he canceled his brunch order and prepared to leave. He switched on his holo burglar system that hid everything valuable under holographic cheap-looking rubbish. You never knew if some guy would manage to get one of those mobile webcams inside, hoping to locate some interesting loot. It was better to make your place look miserable at first glance.

  He left his apartment and walked past a shirt-stall on his way to the nearest CityNaut terminal. A shirt featuring a flashy 3-D commercial for an upcoming blockbuster movie caught his attention, but its price was prohibitive. Instead, he bought a cheap recyc T-shirt with regular advertising that would only last a day, but so what, that was what most people usually wore. He had his retina scanned for the payment, threw his old shirt in a recycling bin, and then remembered he was supposed to wear the same pants as yesterday. He hadn’t, but decided against going back to change. What did it matter anyway whether he was wearing recyclable clothes or not? He would be lucky if he ended up one day with that chick without any pants!

  He boarded the CityNaut shuttle, stated his destination to the scanner and presented his eye. “Thank you for riding CityNaut,” the system’s voice said as it scanned his retina to arrange the payment. After the short ride to the airport, he walked straight to the Orville Wright Airport Mall. He hoped he would bump into the woman right away, but he didn’t see her. At the entrance of the Mall, already swarming with people, he hung around a newsbooth for a while, watched the holographic display of newsflashes, interspersed with holo commercials. It wasn’t always easy to distinguish the two, but he assumed the bits about the incident at the Toronto airport, the earthquake in Pakistan and the statistics showing a marked increase in church goers were news items.

  He walked on, bought a new supply of uppers, emoboosters and downers at a health store, and moved sideways to avoid going right through a holo commercial for Hyatt’s Worldwide Airport Hotels. He felt so terribly excited about his appointment that he groped in his pocket for a downer, as he heard a voice suddenly say behind him:

  “I’m right here. Follow me to the games and movie store over at our left. And act casual. We can talk while we rummage through the bargains.”

  It was her all right. She was breathtakingly beautiful, wore an expensive shirt that hid the cool tattoos, but offered a perfect view of the nipple ornaments. He followed her, unable to say a single word.

  He understood why she had chosen this shop to talk: the place was an inferno of holo commercials for recently released games and movies, and the chance of being seen or overheard here was negligible. As a matter of fact, they would have trouble hearing each other.

  “I’ll keep it short,” she said. “You were involved in this matter by accident. You needn’t know all the details. Something was slipped into your pocket that was supposed to fall into my hands. I suggest you give it to me now, and then you forget all this ever happened.”

  He recalled the brawl he had been pulled into. So he had been at the wrong place at the wrong time, as one person had wanted to hand some stuff to another, with a third party spoiling the fun, and his pocket being the only available place to hide the material. That made some sense.

  “I had a problem with those pants,” he lied. “I’m not wearing them right now. Just tell me what you need.”

  She shot him a white-hot glance that sent shivers down his spine. “I’m afraid I can’t tell you much. Your involvement in this affair is too deep as it is.”

  “In that case we have nothing to discuss anymore,” he said, turning around. Her hand on his shoulder also sent shivers down his spine, but these shivers were of a different nature.

  “Don’t go.”

  “Tell me everything.”

  “You would regret that. If you lived long enough to reach that point.”

  “You’re just making me more curious.”

  “Listen, the stuff that was slipped into your pocket yesterday is illegal and priceless. It shouldn’t fall in the wrong hands. At least two or three people know it’s in your possession now, so others with good intelligence services are bound to find out sooner or later. And they’ll come and get it. And guess what they’ll do to you if they think you just might know too much. I need that stuff back, man. And you don’t want that stuff around at your place. Give it to me. Go back to your place, put those pants on, meet me somewhere in your area, and I’ll recover the stuff. Believe me, that’s in everyone’s best interest, especially yours.”

  He thought for a few moments, then said, “Well, all right. I’ll go back to my place. Won’t you come along?”

  She shook her head. “I really shouldn’t be seen where you live. It’s better if I retrieve the stuff in a neutral, no risk environment.”

  “You mean my place isn’t safe?”

  “Not with what’s stashed in your pants right now. Go back. Now. Don’t lose any more time. Isn’t there a pizzeria near your place? We’ll go there.”

  “Okay. Will you buy me lunch? I had to skip my brunch because of this.”

  “If you don’t hurry you’ll have to skip a lot more. Go now, go.”

  He nodded, turned around and left the store. He threw a glance over his shoulder, hoping to catch a final glimpse of the woman, but she had already vanished. This sure wasn’t shaping up to be the grand sensual adventure he had imagined. So this was not a dream at all.

  He took the short CityNaut ride back and returned straight away to his apartment. To his dismay he noticed a mobile webcam was active in his bedroom, undoubtedly transmitting images to some guys who were after the same thing as that woman. No wonder she preferred not to be seen here. This had to be serious business indeed. He crushed the webcam under his heel, grabbed the pants he had worn yesterday and searched its pockets. His fingers touched a small object, which proved to be a sort of tiny phial. It clung to the fabric of his pants and was so minuscule and light that he hadn’t even noticed its presence until now. He slid it into his pocket and threw the pants back on the bed. He figured unwanted visitors were on their way, and, if they didn’t find the pants, they might decide to chase him down. If, however, they found the pants but without its treasure, they might assume it was lost, had fallen out, and as the owner had carelessly left the pants on the bed, it was clear he had no idea what he had been involved in and would be left alone. Or so at least he hoped.

  He left his apartment in a hurry and rushed to the Pizza Palazzo. As the wo
man hadn’t arrived yet, he took a seat, typed his order on a keypad and offered his eye to the payment scanner. As he waited for his pizza, he saw the woman appear across the street. As she headed for the pizzeria, a few men caught up with her and stopped her, and a discussion seemed to ensue. The heavy traffic on the street prevented him from seeing what exactly was happening, but it was clear things were not going according to plan. The woman did not show up at the pizzeria, and when he had an unobstructed view of the street for a moment, he saw no trace of her anymore. Had she been intercepted by her enemies? Had she preferred not to lead those people to the guy who had the prized treasure in his pocket? Would she get in touch with him later to arrange another appointment? Would he ever see the woman again? Would her pretty face keep haunting him forever?

  A programmed Italian-accented voice said, “Thank you for choosing the Pizza Palazzo,” and as he turned around, he saw Luigi, all smiles, with his Mexican pizza. “Good to see you,” he said. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine, thanks. By the way, can I ask you something? Do you know what this is?” He produced the tiny phial and handed it to Luigi. He knew this guy and his reputation for all sorts of pills and stimulants. If Luigi didn’t know what these were, nobody would. “There’s a story behind it,” he added. “I got these by accident and various people are after me to get them back.”

  “I’m not sure,” Luigi said, studying the phial intensely without losing his smile. “I suppose the stuff in here is not quite legal, and consequently pretty expensive and well worth your time and interest.”

  “Any suggestions?”

  “The best way out of your problem is to swallow what’s in here. Then nobody can take it away from you anymore, you can’t be arrested for having it, you’re out of this game you were dragged into and you have a free ride of whatever new fancy stuff this is. Good luck, Roy. Let me know how the trip turned out.”

  “What if this stuff is dangerous, or lethal?”

  “They don’t exactly use these miniature containers for rat poison, if you catch my drift. I’ve seen them before, and if some guys are desperate to retrieve them, they just have to be some fancy new designer drug, just slightly illegal. I’d take my chance, if I were you. Get yourself a trip, man. Open the thing, press until it signals there’s nothing left, and get rid of the phial. Good luck.”

  Luigi left to attend to some other customers, and Roy wolfed down his pizza. Then he went to the men’s room and closed his eyes as he urinated. He just hated that holographic gnome that popped into existence at his feet, saying, “Stop feeling pissed off! Try our new line of MoodUpswings, and feel ecstatic every moment of your day!” The holo creature disappeared as soon as his urine stopped coming, and Roy felt relieved in more than one way. Much as he loathed this particular holo commercial, he felt tempted to give these new powerful emoboosters a try one of these days. But for now he had other plans.

  It took him a while to open the phial. After a few frustrating attempts he finally managed to open it, shoved it into his mouth and pressed until he heard a beep. He hadn’t felt anything go down his throat, but maybe this was miniaturized stuff. As long as the effects weren’t minimal, he wouldn’t mind. He flushed the phial down the toilet and headed for the exit, walking straight through a Fun Coke commercial spraying him with holographic foam.

  He went back to his apartment, expecting to find traces of visitors. He was almost convinced they hadn’t bothered to drop by after all, until he noticed the pants in his bedroom weren’t exactly where he had left them. Now he could only hope these people would assume he didn’t have what they wanted and forget about him.

  Time went by. The woman didn’t call him, and the stuff he had swallowed failed to produce any effects so far. Maybe a delayed effect had been built in? Or maybe Luigi had been wrong? But then again, there were no harmful side effects either. He would just have to wait and see.

  When the time came to do his shift at the Lunch Mob, he took the CityNaut ride to the Airport and went to work. Would the woman perhaps drop by over there, preferring not to use her phone anymore? Or would the other guys wait for him there, hoping to catch both him and the woman? He walked in, ignored the WaterWhirl crocodile jumping at him, and greeted his boss.

  “Hey, Roy,” Kelvin said. “A few guys were here this morning. They wanted to talk to you. And I’ve had a few cops here too. Yesterday someone paid by having a cloned retina scanned. That’s illegal. It also means we didn’t get that payment. Remember that situation we had here yesterday? Don’t tell me you’re involved.”

  “I’m not, Kelvin,” he lied. “If those guys come back, tell them I just work here. I won’t have anything to do with this nonsense.”

  “I hope you’re not involved; otherwise you won’t be working here anymore.”

  “Believe me, Kelvin, I’m clean.”

  To his relief the rest of the day proved uneventful. There was one thing, though: for reasons that evaded him, he forgot to take any emoboosters or uppers, and didn’t even feel the need for any. And towards the end of his shift, there was a text message on his phone. It invited him to drop by at eight PM at the Switchbleed, a bar on the top level of the Airport building. It added he should bring a suitcase, containing a certain item of clothing, look like a passenger having a drink before checking in, and swap suitcases with the person sending the message. The text was not signed with a name, but with a tattoo, one he had seen crawling around on that gorgeous woman’s skin, which identified her unmistakably. He didn’t relish the thought of getting ever more embroiled in this unwholesome business, but the idea of meeting that woman again was irresistible. Who knew what this might lead to? But would he ever find out what her name was, who she worked for, what all this frantic activity was all about? And, more importantly, would he get her where he really wanted her?

  Roy had arrived a bit early at the Switchbleed, had ordered a drink and now admired the view the bar offered of aircraft coming in and taking off as he waited for the woman to join him.

  As a gigantic aircraft took to the air, he saw the woman enter the Switchbleed and head for his table. He shot her a smile, a natural one, not driven by emoboosters, and behind her he could see the aircraft take height. It had barely been airborne for a few seconds or something seemed to go wrong. Flames erupted from one of its engines, black smoke billowed up from the aft section of the fuselage, and the plane tilted at an impossible angle. A flash of blinding white light could be seen behind every window, and then flames sprang up all over the aircraft until it finally exploded into a dazzling orange fireball. Roy sipped from his drink and stared at the burning fragments plummeting down, converging toward the same point and eventually forming a string of fiery words advertising Inferno in the Skies, an upcoming disaster movie.

  The woman put her suitcase down, took a seat opposite him, and said, “Hi. Nice view, right?”

  “The day a plane really crashes here,” he chuckled, “no one will pay attention and people will think it’s advertising taken one step further.”

  “Well, it would fit the general atmosphere,” she replied.

  “Let me buy you a drink,” he offered. She typed something on the keypad, and he turned his eye to the scanner. At least my retina is a real one, he added in thought. He also noted she still had the dazzling hairdo that was locked in cycles of color and style changes, as well as the artful tattoos. Sadly, the nipple ornaments were covered this time.

  She cast a glance under the table and said: “You didn’t bring a suitcase. I told you we were supposed to look like passengers, and swap cases as we leave. Will you make this simple transfer go wrong once more? Why are you making this so difficult? Why?”

  “There’s no need for all that,” he said. “Can I ask you a few questions instead? What’s your name? Who are you working for, what is all this about? And why was I drawn into this?”

  “Believe me, the less you know about all this, the better. You don’t want to be involved in this game.”

 
“Now, what if I tell you I swallowed what was in that tiny phial someone slipped into my pants.”

  She shot him a piercing stare, was silent for a few moments. She barely noticed the waiter who brought her drink. Then she shook her head and said:

  “You idiot. You have no idea what you’ve worked yourself into.”

  “Then tell me. Are we talking about some fancy new drug here? I must say it has no effect on me. And what makes it so important some people are going to such lengths to get their hands on it? A few guys even broke into my apartment. By the way, why didn’t you do that, instead of calling me? You could have simply picked up that stuff instead of arranging appointments that basically led nowhere.”

  “That was considered too dangerous. I might have been intercepted at your place, or arrested, or worse. You see, we’re not talking about drugs here. What you swallowed were antidotes.”

  “Antidotes? Antidotes against what?”

  “That’s a long story, and we can’t stay here too long. The moment they find out we’re here, we’ll be history.”

  “Who are ‘they’? And who are you, for that matter?”

  She chuckled, said he needn’t know her name, took her glass and sipped from it. While there was a short silence, a wisp of smoke seemed to emanate from the middle of the table and unfolded quickly into a scantily clad woman with tantalizingly well-shaped curves, like a speeded-up video image of a seed blossoming into a flower.

  “Would you be interested in our services?” the holo ad’s audio system asked with its soft female voice.

  “We’re talking,” he replied curtly, and the holographic hooker pouted at this rude refusal of the services of her flesh and blood counterparts and dissipated like a smoke-ring in a draft.

  “You’ve just joined what seems to be a losing battle,” the woman said. “And we’re the ones that happen to be on the losing side. Follow me. We’ll walk around the airport. Try to act natural. We shouldn’t stand out, let’s pretend we’re passengers doing some shopping before we check in.” She finished her drink, grabbed her suitcase and rose to her feet. He followed her, hoping he would finally find out who she was and what kind of game he had thrown in his lot with.