Rinzler: A Noir Sci-Fi Thriller

by Raya Jones

  For the first time in his life, Angerford became afraid of his president.

  The train sped on.

  Like a dark epiphany, Angerford realised that he must defy his own president.

  Even thinking about it violated his bushido code. He desperately tried to figure out how to neutralise the suicide circuit in his brain. It could be triggered by unfaithful thoughts picked up by the implant if he sub-vocally articulated them too clearly. He had to keep thinking: I’m doing what’s right for Cyboratics even if Wye Stan doesn’t realise it.

  Somehow it helped to remember the spooky presence that stood behind him on that shuttle. He kept replaying the quiet voice that had made hairs stand on the back of his neck. If the trouble becomes unshootable… ‘I must contact Schmidt Investigations,’ Angerford blurted out.

  Rinzler told him that the site was a ghost.

  Angerford reminded him that Samurai Sunrise provided this contact.

  Rinzler corrected, ‘No, he’s given you me. I’m your contact.’

  Angerford protested. He had picked Rinzler’s name at random out of a list of local detectives. Rinzler pointed out that Samurai Sunrise would have made sure that ‘Rinzler’ was the first name Angerford saw or had the biggest signpost. He added, ‘He’s left me a link to something called Fairweather…’ He heard Angerford swear. ‘What’s does it mean?’

  Angerford murmured, ‘Something we don’t speak about.’

  ‘Who’s “we”?’ inquired Rinzler.

  Angerford clammed up.

  Cardiff nestled in the basin of a shallow crater. From afar the small conglomerate of glowing domes and turrets, capped with meshed hexagons laced with mirrors to trap starlight, appeared misplaced, like a glittering jewel dropped in a dark gutter.

  It soon disappeared from sight.

  The train entered a long dark tunnel that ended in an enclosed railroad yard. At the far end was an airlock with a Welcome to Cardiff sign over it. ‘Definitely no androids here,’ Rinzler stated the obvious. People in clumsy spacesuits and oxygen tanks came out of side doors, some distance away, to offload the train. Rinzler and Angerford headed to the signposted airlock.

  Once inside they removed the hoods and could communicate directly.

  ‘You’re still very quiet,’ Angerford observed. ‘You are not in trouble, are you?’

  ‘Probably not,’ Rinzler shook his head, confirming. In theory, he could return to P-7 anytime, restore his office, and carry on his strictly local small-time line of business. ‘But that’s only in theory,’ he added.

  Rinzler could imagine April being eager to find out why the essencists refused to be its customers, and keen to persuade then to change their belief system. An April-Indigo hybrid could do that. It would be just like Indigo to fire up essencists with her account of Evil Everild. She’ll get them to form an anti-android action squad whose mission is to save the world from April. Rinzler remembered Latifah shooting April in that alley, and the warm feeling he associated with her turned to a chill. His imagination saw young men and women in heavy coats and guns rushing out of Cardiff to catch trains to P-7.

  His practical mind scrapped that vision. They’ll need non-nano spacesuits and oxygen tanks for the journey. Cardiff has its own land vehicles, which they use to get to and from the spaceport, but the would-be terrorists would need authorisation to use them. But a few zealots in strategic positions would make it possible, he mused. And then he recalled Louis Huang telling him that the sash with the soul-snatching device has gone missing inside Cardiff. April won’t need to convert people, merely to replace them with replicas, if the device was still functional. Damn, why can’t I just walk away from all this? Aloud he muttered, ‘I can’t just walk away from this.’

  ‘Why?’ inquired Angerford.

  ‘I’ve come this far, I need to see what Cardiff looks like.’

  The lobby was very quiet. Their boots made no noise on the wall-to-wall carpet. Cream walls were decorated with chrome-framed physical pictures of a townscape resembling the ‘Typical Small Town’ poster above Indigo’s bed. The captions identified them as sights of Cardiff. Polished plaques with inspirational quotations hung between the pictures.

  Three youths in biosuits sleepily lounged in a corner by vending machines. Seeing Angerford and Rinzler enter, they quickly rose and rushed to catch the train home. One lad called to the men as they passed, ‘Turn away! They’ll switch the propaganda back on any moment now!’ A girl giggled, ‘Run for your life!’ The third one paused briefly, glancing as if perplexed at Angerford’s Cyboratics logo, and told them that to enter Cardiff you must leave behind your pert, biosuit and any other life-essentials.

  And then the youths were gone.

  People often turn up at Cardiff Gate out of curiosity, mostly for the thrill of the train ride, and leave without bothering to enter Cardiff.

  An elderly woman in blue overalls pushed a trolley to the vending machines corner. She waved cheerfully to the two men, and started to pick up litter left there by the youth. Rinzler suppressed the urge to go there and help her. ‘You’d think that if they cared about people, they’d have robots do these jobs,’ he commented lightly, frowning.

  Indigo was asleep on a row of seats farther away.

  ‘That’s my problem,’ whispered Angerford. As soon as he said it, he felt that he had said too much. There was no backing out now. ‘It’s not a technical problem anymore.’

  Rinzler’s gaze was fixed on Indigo. ‘What sort of problem is it?’

  ‘Unshootable.’

  They continued to head to an unmanned desk and barriers leading to the exit into Cardiff.

  Rinzler persisted, ‘What do you mean it’s not technical? Technically she can be shot.’

  ‘I don’t mean her. My unshootable problem is…’ Angerford’s voice faltered. The horror of it all was still sinking in.

  ‘Sunrise!’ declared an enthusiastic voice.

  The cleaning woman had come right up behind them. Both men stopped dead in their tracks and stared at her dumbfounded. Why I should be surprised that they know him here too, thought Rinzler, surprised that Schmidt would actually call himself Sunrise.

  But she meant the time of day. Artificial daylight was being switched on inside the biosphere. Cardiff has its sunrises and sunsets on the same Standard Time hours as on Earth, she proudly told them.

  Like the phoney diurnal cycle, the two men fell into a script. Angerford heard himself pedantically pointing out that on Earth the sun rises and sets at a different Standard Time in different time zones. Rinzler heard himself intervene, ‘Forgive my friend, Jane,’ he read the woman’s badge. ‘He’s fresh from Earth and doesn’t know the ways of the universe yet.’

  The old woman smiled forgivingly and told them that Jim the Immigration Officer will start his shift in about two hours.

  ‘Is it possible to see Louis Huang instead?’ asked Rinzler.

  ‘That would be him,’ she confirmed, amused. ‘Jim and Jane are our professional names after the Twins. I’m Miriam.’

  The propaganda switched on just then. A deafening jingle was followed by a loudspeaker: ‘Welcome! You have arrived in one of the few places in the universe where you will find authentic human existence!’

  Miriam raised her voice to be heard, ‘There’s another Indigo waiting for him over there.’ The loudspeaker blared: ‘We believe in cosmic balance! Humans have the power to upset it. Therefore, we have the responsibility to maintain it!’ It went on and on.

  Indigo was already striding towards them.

  Miriam’s face clouded. ‘Do they mass-produce those Indigos? She has a serious attitude problem.’ She went back to her chores before Indigo reached them.

  Indigo made an exuberant entrance into their company. ‘Hey guys! I’m so glad you’ve come to plan the sequel. I think we should call it Soul-snatcher II. Don’t stare at me like that. Guys, this is when we take down Evil Everild.’ Turning to Angerford, she smiled a sunny smile like a mocking imitation of April,
‘What’s our next move, Chief?’

  Angerford inquired dryly, ‘How do you suggest we take down April?’

  ‘How do I know? You tell me! You’re the Ace Trouble-shooter. That’s your role and purpose in the Game of Life.’ She turned to Rinzler, ‘I’m not sure what you are.’

  ‘Rinzler.’

  ‘Right, you’re a Rinzler. But what’s your role and purpose in the game?’

  He frowned silently.

  Her confidence wavered slightly. Then the sunny smile returned. ‘Okay, right. My role is to help you guys. Shame about your office, Rinzler. But I can fix it for you. Trust me. I’m very good at filing.’

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