A familiar face caught his attention from above, shimmering from a massive holo-panel drifting overhead. He ducked a smaller advert bot gliding low over the field of trapped commuters.
“Tired of being stuck in traffic on the ground? Take to the skies with your own brand-new Timmons-Orben hovercar.” A series of vehicles orbited the bot, starting at just over three hundred grand to three and a half million for the luxury one.
The emphatic male voice faded into the distance, and he squinted into the sky where blonde hair glowed against the deep indigo of the night sky. Kimberly Brightman’s sixteen-foot tall visage read news copy about a wealthy entrepreneur, Viktor Kovalev, found dead by his cleaning staff earlier that day. Unknown assailants had shot him, as well as several bodyguards. Joey mouthed the words “at this time, the police have no leads and no suspects and are looking to the public for help” as the reporter said it. It was always the same routine whenever someone like that died. Despite a life lost, Joey could not help but feel a twinge of pleasure at watching someone rich and powerful die.
The reporter tapped her earpiece and paused in mid-sentence to listen to an unheard voice as “Breaking News” scrolled above her in big red letters. Joey grinned from ear to ear as she switched stories and showed the world the truth about the Mayberry incident. The NewsNet kept looping the same ten second bit of the medic carrying a bloody, screaming boy.
“Milk it you fuckers,” grumbled Joey. “That kid lost an arm for your ratings.”
The sea of cars changed in texture as people stuck their heads out to watch. Speechless as the reporter absolved the HLM of complicity in the scandal, the crowd gasped in unison. Kimberly reminded everyone how fast WellTech had been there to offer compensation to the families. They claimed to feel responsible for the tragedy as the protest was about their product, and as a show of good corporate citizenship had ‘been there’ for them in their time of crisis.
With the scandal exposed, an altogether different light fell on that act. The tide of public opinion turning went over the stranded commuters, an audible wave. Even with such damning evidence, the company would probably shrug it off with only a black eye. Now, he could sit back and watch the months of senate inquiries with a big grin, once the wave of paranoia about hackers subsided. With any luck, that would stop the assassins, as WellTech had nothing to gain by killing him now―except revenge.
Tired of traffic, Joey borrowed the sidewalk to slip away. Trying to drive a land vehicle from the far north back home at this hour had been a bad idea, but it beat spending time with snobs. Two hours later, he arrived back at his own personal hellhole. It seemed strange to stumble into a place like this with over a hundred grand in his account. Granted, the reward was a onetime deal and he could not keep up with monthly rent for long. That would demand a day job, a drudgery to which he was not yet ready to subject himself.
The fragrance of smoldering silicon lingered, making him grumble when he remembered his shower. He set the deck on its table, jumping back as he found his hand coated in a slippery opaque white liquid that dripped from the back left corner of the Teradyne. Joey fell into the chair, still in his coat, and opened the deck. The leak originated from a crack in a boxy component on the far left.
The neural memory module had a crack.
The nutritive base for the artificial neurons seeped out. Well that explains a lot. A borked memory module would slow everything down. Given all that had happened to him over the past several days, he found it plausible to believe that his deck took a stiff bounce. It did seem odd that the external case had no damage.
Ten minutes later, Joey met a delivery bot a few blocks west―as close as they would go to his apartment. It dropped off the replacement part and zoomed off as if even it feared being that close to a grey zone. Joey smiled at the package, having taken this opportunity to upgrade to a larger capacity module.
The story of the dead hackers had made him curious, and he wanted to do a little digging. At least one claimed to have heard his dead wife calling to him in the days leading up to his suicide. Since Joey’s dad appeared to be talking to him, he wanted to be damn sure he was not next.
Two cyberspace hours later, the only connection he could find pointed at a net psychiatry outfit called New Hope. He had heard as much on the news already, but it was the only common thread between them. Curiosity overtook him, and he soon found himself standing at the door to the virtual building. The dark cowboy avatar changed into an approximation of Joey’s actual self, with just enough difference for deniability.
He blinked, allowing his eyes to adjust to the dim interior. A brown haired man in his thirties sat in the front row, a young woman in leather gang regalia in the back, and an older Hispanic man argued with a younger version of himself. In the far right, a well-dressed young Japanese woman frowned at the rug.
Joey stood just inside the door, thinking for a minute before going to the solitary man in the front row.
“Hey. Name’s Joey. Mind if I ask what brings you here?”
The man shifted his weight towards him. “Mitch… Mitch Lawrence.” They shook hands. “My wife Christine is…” He looked away and down. “Probably dead. I think she was murdered. Did you see an evil woman outside?”
Joey cringed. “No… My sister’s on Mars. Sorry about your wife.”
Mitch looked around as if to ensure no one spied on him. He leaned over, whispering with a desperate grip on Joey’s shoulder. “I think she was killed by the Russian.”
Joey blinked. “Which Russian?”
Mitch shook his head side to side hard. “Not a Russian, The Russian. He comes out of the darkness and kills women.” He looked at the floor. “Mostly prostitutes.”
Joey winced.
“No. Christina was no prostitute!” He pounded a fist into his knee. “She worked in that part of town, a nurse at All Saint’s Hospital. I just know that man killed her.”
“You saw it?”
“No. One of his whores has been following me since Christina vanished. She told me. Cassidy over there… She’s seen him kill others.” Mitch pointed at the young woman in leather.
Joey squinted at him. “You just said he kills prostitutes. How can he have whores if he kills them? Is he a serial killer or a pimp?”
Mitch thrashed his head from side to side. “He doesn’t kill them all. Sometimes he puts demons in their heads and makes them work for him. The woman following me has glowing red eyes. She’s a succubus.”
A pronounced smirk spread over Joey’s lips. He knew of a couple street gangs with demonic affectations, and glowing eyes was an easy thing to do with cyberware.
“Mitch, this is going to be a really strange sounding question… but has Christina spoken to you since she died? Vid call, voices out of your deck, holo-vid player, anything?”
Mitch stared with a blank look for a moment. “No… I wish she would though.”
“Thanks.”
Joey nodded at Mitch as he stood, and moved around a few rows to sit near the two arguing men. He listened in silence for several minutes as the older one complained at his son for dragging him here against his wishes.
Taking advantage of a momentary silence, he butted in. “Sorry to interrupt, but I’m conducting an investigation and I think you may be able to help. Since we’re at a grief counselor, please accept my condolences on your loss.”
The old man glared, however his son spoke up.
“My mother. Dad isn’t taking it too well.” The man looked down. “He’s just watching the seconds tick by until he can see her again. He’s given up.”
“Mind your business,” the old man snapped at his son.
“The name’s Stephen Moreno.” He shook Joey’s hand. “This is my father Luis. What can we do for you?”
“I have reason to believe someone out there is using the net to prey on people, and using this place to find their victims. Have you or your father heard voices coming out of electronics lately, more specifically, the voice of your mother?�
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The older man looked away with such speed that Joey knew the answer, despite his eventual denial. As Stephen tried to get his father to talk about it, Joey just waved him off.
“It’s okay, I can guess.” He smiled. “Personally, I don’t believe it’s anything but someone messing with us using stolen audio. Can you at least tell me if the voice started before or after you came here to New Hope?”
“There is no voice.” Luis grumbled. “Even if there was, it’s not recordings. Recordings couldn’t have a conversation.”
Stephen glanced between them. “He started acting weird about a week ago, after we came here a few times. If he is hearing mama, it happened after.”
Luis waved dismissively. “You think I’m crazy. He says he can’t hear her.”
“I haven’t heard it yet.” Stephen shrugged at Joey.
Joey leaned into his fist, staring at the old man, thinking. When he spotted a small metal panel behind his ear about the size of a fingernail, he sat up straight. “Does your father have hearing augmentation?”
Luis Moreno shouted, before his son could speak for him. “Yes. My ears are shot to shit. I got it put in a couple of years ago. Teradyne Auras.” He seemed quite proud of his cyberware. “The upgraded ones with GlobeNet streaming.”
“Free for a year.” His son added, earning a smirk.
“That’s it.” Joey smiled. “Those cybernetic ears have a wireless link to the net.”
Luis frowned. “What of it?”
“Well that’s why Stephen can’t hear her. Whoever’s doing this is sending the audio right to your ears.” Joey folded his arms in triumph.
The younger Moreno muttered. “Son of a…”
Joey nodded and left them their privacy as Eddie apologized to his father for doubting him, but continued to insist he needed to see the doctor. Joey’s drift brought him to the young woman in the back row. She stared between her knees, watching him as he got up from the Morenos and approaching her. A glint in her eyes flickered between fear and hostility. She looked about Amber’s age, but lacked her innocence. This girl had the haunted look of someone who had seen something they wanted desperately to forget. Short hair, wild and black, clung to her head like the top of an acorn. As if searching for a nightmare always two steps behind her, she cowered behind her legs. If this wasn’t a virtual world, she might have fled or pulled a knife.
“Cassidy.” She kept her arms folded tight, burying her hands deeper into a black sweatshirt under the leather vest. “You’re right, I think something’s up.”
Joey sat in the next chair. “What do you know?”
She pursed her ebon-painted lips as she dodged eye contact. Two metal loops in the lower part touched.
“A couple of the girls I used to hang with turned up dead.” A tremble ran down her limbs and her gaze went off into the distance. She spoke in a squeaked whisper. “I saw him kill Mary.”
He waited for her to make eye contact before speaking again. “The Russian?”
Cassidy nodded. “Yeah, how did you know? He’s not really Russian though.”
“Oh?”
“He’s more aug than man. His right arm is a big ass hammer and his left hand is just a curved blade.” She held her hand up like a hook to illustrate the point.
Joey rolled his eyes. “Hammer and sickle… So your friends were, um, working girls?”
“What choice do we have?” She glowered, flushed with anger and shame. “My dad caught me with one hit of Flowerbasket when I was sixteen. I’d been a goddamn goody-two-shoes my whole life. It was just a fuckin’ dare. One fuckin’ time, but that bastard threw me out of the house.”
The last tear she would cry over that had fallen a long time ago.
“What about your mother?”
“She didn’t say a damned thing, just watched him drag me out of the house and throw my ass to the curb.”
She punched the empty chair in front of her, making everyone jump and look.
They talked for a while. She told him about how she spent days wandering, not knowing where to go or what to do and sleeping in PubTran stations. After a few weeks, the first pimp ‘adopted’ her, but after he got himself killed, the girls went freelance. Once The Russian started hunting them, they went into hiding. Mary thought they were being ridiculous, and kept working.
“Somehow, me trying to talk her into staying inside turned into me going out with her.” Cassidy shivered. “I was dumpster diving, looking for food, when he came out of the alley.” She curled tight on the seat, hiding her face against her legs. “She thought he was a John, didn’t even run. By the time she saw the blade it was too late. He…” The glass-eyed stare returned. “… I just stayed in the dumpster until he left.”
Joey did not try to touch her. “Wow… I’m sorry.”
“Scissors.” She laughed, crying.
“Huh?”
Cassidy held out two fingers. “I played scissors. Mary made a rock. That’s why I was in the dumpster. I’m alive because of fucking scissors.”
The girl sat up and wiped the corners of her eyes with the heels of her palms. Joey thought about putting an arm around her, but did not want to get stabbed, even virtually. He let her ride it out, waiting until she looked up.
“So you’ve been hearing her?”
“Yeah.” She sniffled, wiping her face with both hands. “Public VidPhones, electronics store windows when I go by. Ad bots sometimes…”
“Sounds like he’s tapping the city cams to follow you, but why the hell would he mess with you? You’re not a hacker.” He pondered. “Maybe this guy just likes to fuck with vulnerable people.”
Cassidy glared at nothing in particular.
“Have you tried to contact your mom?”
“What the fuck would I do that for?” She turned away. “I already know she doesn’t want a druggie whore under her roof.”
“If you need a crash pad, I got a lot of room. Sector 16, CR 30.” He described it.
She gave him a measured look as if trying to figure out if he wanted to hurt her too.
“The place isn’t great but it’s pretty safe, all things considered. It’s there if you want it.” He left her to her thoughts, and approached the Japanese woman.
Nami Omura’s dead grandfather had been speaking to her quite often. She fit the pattern, the voices only started after she had been here. Most of the time, he yelled “mittomonai” as loud as possible and at the most awkward moments. Nami explained that it meant ‘disgraceful’; her grandfather was upset with her decision to go to school and have a career. Between her new job, school debt, and her father’s death, she had problems coping.
“Father was caught stealing from his company. Rather than surrender to the law, he leapt from the roof to save his honor.” Nami stared at her skirt. “Grandfather died in his sleep two weeks later. Now he says shame killed him; both from Father’s crime and my improper life.”
Joey leaned forward, trying to make eye contact. “What’s so improper about it? You’re doing well?”
“I am educated, I have a job, but no husband.” Nami looked over. “I am a bad granddaughter to him. My shame drove Father to steal.”
“That’s absurd.” Joey looked up. “There’s a hacker out there that’s watching this place and taking advantage of people that come here. He’s just messing with you. That voice is no more your grandfather than I am.”
Relief shone through her eyes. He spent a little while longer with her, clarifying his theory about the hacker and cheering her up with the idea that her grandfather did not hate her. Joey thanked Nami for her time and got up to leave.
Of everyone here, only Mitch had not heard the voices. Then again, his girlfriend might have just left him; no one even knew if she died. If she remained alive, there would be no ghost to fake. That also meant that the hacker was doing more research than just attacking people that patronized New Hope.
He closed his eyes in preparation for the vertigo of disconnection, but hesitated when
the sound of the outside world grew louder. Joey turned toward the hiss of cars across rain-soaked streets as a thin woman slipped into the room. Her floor length dress looked like it came from a prior age, complemented by a rose choker, black against a pale white neck. She locked stares with him as she drifted toward the back of the room away from the chairs.
Something about her delicate porcelain features captivated him. He grinned at the sight of her toes peeking out from under the hem; her motion silent and floating, like a ghost. He could not help himself but follow. Melancholy surrounded her like a cloak, she sulked at the ground as if she would burst into tears at any moment. She reminded him of being on Mars. With much of the colonized area underground, the population had become rather pale after several generations.
This girl stalled his thoughts; he stared until she broke the silence.
“Allo. I am Avril.” Her voice was as cute as her outfit, decorated with a French accent.
“Joey.” He flashed an idiot grin.
Her expression brightened a touch, his whimsy inadequate to produce a full smile through her pall of sorrow. “You are new here, yes?”
He managed to coax his voice from its hiding place. “Yeah. My dad died a few months back. I guess it’s been bothering me more than I let on.”
He changed stories without even thinking about it; something about her made it hard to lie.
“My husband…” She looked down, unable to continue.
Joey felt like an ass for almost a full two seconds at the thought her husband being dead gave him a chance. The idea that she could be grotesque in real life, or even male, did not cross his mind. “I’m sorry.”
“Thank you. I hope your father’s passing was peaceful.”
“Cancer. He ignored it so long the nanosurgery killed him.”
Alex’s voice replayed itself in his memory; a girl named Avril contacted him while they were out in the Badlands, trying to find Joey. Her dark blue eyes distracted him from pondering just how coincidental this meeting was.
Avril folded her hands. “There are some things about the way he died that I don’t believe. I need someone to find out what the police aren’t telling me. Can you help?”
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