Pew! Pew! - Bad versus Worse

by M. D. Cooper

  Twitter: https://twitter.com/LAJ_author

  Website: https://lajbooks.com/

  Consensus

  by Richard Parry

  Decisions shouldn’t be hard.

  As a lead researcher for Reed Interactive, Austin Ainley created The Decider. It’s tech that can nudge people towards making the right choices. Despite his brilliance, Reed threw him out without the common decency of vesting his shares.

  Austin needs to get his stolen invention back from Reed. If he doesn’t, he’ll be penniless and out of a healthcare plan. Revenge wouldn't suck either.

  With a team of off-grid mercs, including the milspec cyborg Ruby Page, he might stand a chance.

  All Austin needs to do is lead his team to victory. With talents like his, how hard can it be?

  Join Austin on his not-so-much-of-a-hero’s journey in this page-turning cyberpunk technothriller.

  CHAPTER ONE

  “The problem with trying to change the world is that you need to work twice as hard for half the pay,” said Austin, and not without feeling.

  “No,” said Kerry. She had her face down in the silicon, hair cascading about her head as she worked. Her voice was distracted, like she was only giving him half the cycles he deserved. That felt like the status quo these days. “That’s women. That’s what women have to do. You’re just a, a,” and here, she raised a hand without looking up, waving it through the air, “a common criminal.”

  They were in the lab they shared, crates of packaged dreams around them. The crews had scored big last night. They’d hit an automated Reed Interactive truck taking the latest batch of memory-based entertainment out for distribution. Reed had always been a little old school, fabricating silicon instead of distribution over the link. It made compromising the memories a little harder; you needed a tech good with silicon, equally good with crypto. Kerry was that tech, and it’s why Austin kept her around. This latest haul? A mix of the usual: my-first-date, wedding-night, race-driver-victory, secret-agent-fantasies, and so on. If you were the kind of asshole who couldn’t get yourself a date? No problem. Drop some credit down on the counter of your local convenience store and you could live someone else’s better, shinier encounters.

  “Is there something you want to tell me?” he said. Austin stretched, his back popping. When he had a little more cash, he’d replace his spine with something more durable, but since those fuckers at Reed had tossed him out on the street—him! On the street!—times were a little tough. Kerry was good at what she did. One of the best. Her talents were wasted here cutting black market porn crystal, but—like him—her options were limited. His eyes strayed from the top of her head, currently sporting ruby-red hair that wasn’t at all natural (but still in style, after all these months of not-enough-cash to get the latest color growths at a clinic). Austin surveyed the heart of his empire. Empire. Hah. Synthesizers for chip production. A decent deck for editing out a few of Reed’s more obvious watermarks, like the blonde-blue-eyes thing. It’s like the entire syndicate was trapped in a time warp back to 1940. It’s a wonder their share price hadn’t tanked prior to the brutal beating it saw after that Seattle business. Spirits. Mind control. Gates to other words.

  Bullshit, A-grade, but bullshit regardless. People wanted mind control? He’d give ‘em mind control.

  The rest of the equipment was in various states of repair. There was an older deck with its innards exposed to the air and poor lighting in equal measure, components being harvested like organs to breathe life into some other project of Kerry’s. Nothing here was new. Not a single scrap of it was shiny.

  His comment caused her to look up, meeting his gaze. Those expensive Nikon eyes, a brilliant green, looked out at him under the cascade of red hair. She’d never have the cash to get work done like that, not again, unless they were successful. “I don’t know. Is there something you want to hear?”

  “C’mon, Kerry. You know we’re on the right trail. A little more time in the oven, that’s all it needs.” Austin stroked his beard. He kept it close enough for a job interview without being an asshole about it. People who had the time for close trimming and beard oils were people without enough real work to do. Not that he wanted a job interview. The time for slaving over other people’s dreams was done.

  “Like you know how to cook.”

  “Sure I know how to cook,” he said, taken aback. “I take the food out of the packet and put it in the oven.” She stared at him. “Or,” he offered, “you put the food in the oven.”

  “There’s poor work distribution going on around here,” she said. “Anyway. You said that back at Reed. You said—”

  “I know,” he said.

  “You said,” and here she deepened her voice, but also tossed a little nasality in there for good measure, “‘Kerry Forsdyke, we’re on the brink of—’”

  “I know,” he said again. “Also, I don’t talk like that.”

  “And I said, ‘Boss? Mr. Ainley, sir? We’re messing with people’s minds. Someone from HR or PR will come down here.’”

  Austin sighed. “Those fuckers,” he said. “Fucking PR.”

  “At least it wasn’t HR,” said Kerry. “They’d have sent you in for reprograming.”

  “PR just wanted to steal my tech,” said Austin.

  Kerry looked bored, like they’d had this conversation a hundred times before. Which they had. “All the good it did them. The tech doesn’t work!”

  “The tech works,” said Austin. He realized he’d clenched his fists. He made himself relax. The thing about being in charge was you needed to look like nothing got in your grill. No cheese in your taco? No problem—fire someone, move on. “It works better than we imagined. Just… not in the right ways.”

  “Doesn’t matter,” said Kerry. “Since the rain came down and people started losing their minds, shit’s got real, you know?” She was, of course, referring to the A-grade bullshit in Seattle. ‘Spirits in the rain’ or some nonsensical line noise. The aftermath left Reed’s tower a smoking ruin, the head of Apsel Federate missing, and Metatech on top. Because what the world needed was a genuine syndicate of arms dealers like Metatech ruling the world. Business moved on, of course, and Reed had relocated ‘key personnel’ to the sewer of New York City. Austin had come along—it was that or get sidelined. The fuckers had sidelined him with extreme prejudice anyway after they’d found out about Austin’s mind control tech. Won’t scan with the shareholders, they’d said. Turns out if your entire company gets turned into a smoking ruin via experiments in mind control? They get a bit gun-shy. Which left Austin on the street, one good worker to his credit, and an entire empire to build from scratch.

  Austin’s link chimed a comm request. It was old tech, very limited bandwidth, just the way he wanted it, what with his breakthrough innovation. It wouldn’t do to have your own mind hijacked by your invention, would it? His overlay fed him details on the request: one of his workers was paging him. “Ugh,” said Austin. The same damn worker, the same damn time, every damn day. Kara… he checked the overlay. Kara Mantle. That was it. Thank God for the link. He didn’t need to remember the names of painful people. The tech did that just fine.

  Kerry had her face down in the silicon again. Given a normal lab, she’d use the equipment’s optics to get a view of the silicon, but this ‘lab’ ran a little lightweight on the necessary gear. Her Nikons were better at fine work than any of the tech around them. Just one more thing he’d owe her for. And Austin Ainley hated owing people a damn thing. When she spoke, it was with that distracted tone she used on idiots trying to interrupt her work. “No rest for the wicked.”

  Before he went to see what… Mara? Kara?… wanted, Austin let his eyes stray to the table that held a more special cargo. A derelict, if you will: a body, laid out, cold. They’d both been ignoring it, because the man who’d died on that table was just the ninety-ninth in a long series of failures. Sure, they’d given the guy a decent meal last night. Szechwan take-out. His request, and whatever: as
last meals went it wasn’t bad. Not that any of them knew for sure that it was going to be a last meal. Number 99 sure as shit hadn’t known. Austin and Kerry had suspected, because of the ninety-eight previous experiments. So they’d fed the guy well, given him a beer to wash it down with—Zhujiang brand, which was just horrible, but what can you do?—and then connected him to the device. The man had blinked twice, swallowed his tongue, and died. At least his skull hadn’t ruptured as his internal link architecture overloaded. Number seventy-three had been a popper, but the’d got better since then. Much better, but still no gravy. Austin sighed, stood, and headed towards the lab’s exit. Time to face a little more music.

  • • •

  “Mara,” said Austin, “whatever’s the problem?”

  “Kara,” said Kara. She was burly in a way that Austin found slightly intimidating, but she was also ex-Reed, which he’d initially thought would made her a useful asset for the team. Hah. ‘Team.’ Like they know what it’s like to be a part of something… courageous. As chance had it, she was essentially worthless, but he lacked the social capital for a serious recruitment drive right now.

  They were in the antechamber to the lab, a clean room of sorts in an otherwise dirty facility. Austin was shucking his lab gear in favor of clothes a little more street. The clothes were a little more worn than he was used to, but that would all change soon enough. He waved his hand. “Kara, right, Kara. Sorry.”

  “The problem,” she said, her eyes narrowing, “is the same as it was yesterday.”

  “Yesterday,” repeated Austin.

  “Yesterday,” agreed Kara. “And the day before. And the day before that. All the way back many, many days. We were talking about a more… equitable distribution of the wealth.”

  “The wealth,” said Austin. “You do know we’re running to the wire here.”

  “The wealth,” said Kara, “paid for your very nice ride.” She was referring to his Mercedes, which sat—alone in splendor, although crowded by rabble (much like Austin himself, he liked to think) out in the lair’s parking lot. It nestled shoulder-to-shoulder with horrible Toyota-Mitsus. It’d been a long six months since that Mercedes had sat in security underneath Reed’s tower.

  “That was a long time ago,” said Austin. He gave a thin smile. “Back before I was an… independent businessman.”

  “Can I ask you a question?” said Kara. Or was it Mara? No, it was definitely Kara. Austin checked his link. Yep, Kara.

  “Coffee doesn't ask me stupid questions in the morning. Be more like coffee,” said Austin.

  “That a yes or a no?”

  “That’s a qualified maybe,” said Austin. “Stupid questions? No. Anything else? Fine.”

  Kara sighed. “It’s just that… I feel like we could be doing a little more. You know. Pick up the production some.”

  Austin thought about that, a pause growing between them like an unwanted pregnancy. “That’s not a question.”

  Kara’s eyes hardened, chips of flint in her flat face. “Oh, so you want a question, huh?”

  “I—”

  “Here’s your question, Mister Bossman. Give us more money!” She had stepped up too close, and Austin could smell the stale nicotine and leftover booze waft off her.

  Austin held up a hand, creating a little distance. Not a huge amount, but enough. The smell, you know? “Kara?”

  “Yes, Mr. Ainley.”

  He leaned close—nasty but necessary—and softened his voice. “That’s not a question either.” He watched her process that as he pulled away, her meter rising from what-the-fuck through to so-that’s-how-it-is and right into the redline of I’m-gonna-murder-this-motherfucker. Before she could rupture something, Austin smiled. “Of course, I have good news.”

  That seemed to halt the impending eruption. “Good news.” Kara spoke like the words tasted of tequila without lemon or salt.

  “The best kind,” agreed Austin. He smoothed his jacket, which just wasn’t holding the press like it used to. Too damn many creases. “I have a small surprise.”

  He could see the cogs of her mind working. They weren’t working very fast, because she wasn’t gifted in that way. She wasn’t, as near as Austin could tell, gifted in many ways at all unless they were smoking too much and drinking on the job. Neither of those vices were things he could begrudge, given the circumstances. “A surprise like Reed’s gone and perfected the tech you promised us?”

  “Finally, a question,” beamed Austin, then stopped himself. He replayed that line in his head once or twice. “What do you mean, like Reed?”

  “Your big invention,” said Kara, with what could only be called a smirk on her face. “Mind control. Reed made the announcement this morning. Their stock’s up a hundred points. A hundred. Points.”

  “It needed to do something other than bellyflop,” said Austin, feeling adrift. “After that little problem in Seattle.”

  “So here’s you, Mr. Austin Ainley, promising mind control tech. We all work a little longer, for a little less pay. Your deal is to make the tech work. And here’s Reed, with the big announcement.”

  “Uh,” said Austin. “Did they say ‘mind control?’”

  “You stupid?” said Kara, possibly forgetting who she was talking to, but Austin could see she was caught up in the moment. “They did not call it mind control. They said that you’d be able to share a sim with a friend. You’d be able to, hang on,” and Austin saw her eyes look up and left as she accessed her link, “‘provide a guided experience for a partner.’”

  “‘Guided experience.’ Sounds like mind control,” said Austin, smiling.

  “Yeah, it… what?” Kara had seen his smile, which derailed her train of thought. Which wasn’t hard to do, Austin reflected, because it was rickety and in need of a lot of maintenance. And usually still boarding at the station.

  “Here’s the thing,” said Austin. “‘Guided.’ But it’s not perfect. You’re not going to be able to, I don’t know, make the homecoming king go out with you.”

  “Not the way I roll,” said Kara.

  “Or homecoming queen. Their tech will… be imperfect.”

  “Still better than yours.”

  “Ah,” said Austin. “Remember. I promised a surprise.” He walked away from Kara’s smell to a corner of the clean room. There, a box: inside the box, a collection of equipment, shiny and ready for deployment. He flipped through the contents until he found the case he wanted. He offered it to her. “Slot this.”

  “What is it?” she said, but taking it from him like it was the holy grail itself. Because she wanted, like all small minds, to believe.

  “A surprise,” said Austin, “but I take from your expression you know what it is.”

  “Mind control?”

  “Hell no,” said Austin. “Something a little more immediate. This little baby is a better sim than even Reed can make.” He frowned. Reed’s whole business was in synthetic entertainment, and Austin’s team had been selling black-market riffs of Reed stuff for as long as he’d been out of stock options. “It’s real, Mara.”

  “Kara,” she said, but absently as she turned it over in her hands. The case caught the dim light; it was shiny, a blank, no label on the outside to give away the contents. Her eyes looked up, meeting his. “Real?”

  “Real,” said Austin. “No post-integration jitters. No off-color. It’s a stepping stone to mind control, of course. When Reed stole my technology, there wasn’t enough there in the documentation for them to complete the project. That’s why they’re releasing these half-measures. Also-rans. Nothing to worry about, because they don’t have that.” He pointed to the chip she held. “Making things believable is the first step to controlling the mind. Set the stage, then you can manipulate it.”

  “So I… just put it in a deck?”

  “A hard link is fine,” said Austin. “It’ll work through the connection in your palm, if you’ve got one of those.”

  “Course,” she said. She looked around, then propp
ed herself up on a nearby bench. “Let me check it out.” She held the case in her palm, aligning the contact points against the meat of her hand. Kara closed her eyes as her link connected. Nothing happened for two heartbeats, and then her whole body stiffened, shuddered, and she made a keening noise. Austin watched as she tried to release the case, but it was too late. The link had her, forcing her hand closed, electricity melting metal to metal. It was perhaps too much, or perhaps not enough, depending on your point of view. The smell of burning plastic filling the small room.

  Kara then made small noises like a rat coughing, then nothing at all for a few moments, before she toppled over, smoke trailing from where her hand had fused with the case. When she opened her eyes, they were blank, without any thought, expression or emotion.

  Austin opened a link to Kerry. “Kerry! I have good news!”

  “Which is?”

  “Number one hundred is a winner. The subject survived.”

  There was a pause before she spoke. “We weren’t going to do number one hundred until tomorrow.”

  “I found an opportunity to accelerate our timeline,” said Austin. “I have also found a new business venture. Get me a crew of runners, and we’ll prep them in the briefing room.”

  • • •

  The ‘briefing room’ wasn’t so much of a darkened, moody affair like they’d had at Reed Interactive. Reed spared no expense; their walls were pressure sealed, allowing no vibrations through for voice harvesting. Many of them were inside Faraday cages, which was problematic if you wanted link access, but stopped wireless forms of attack and compromise.

  Sadly, there was none of that here. Austin had managed to spring for a cheap display, a deck, and some plastic chairs. The carpet was aged to the point of being necrotic, and he imagined some form of life taking root there. It didn’t take a whole lot of imagination, dark blooms of mold taking root here and there. Perhaps if the mind control shtick doesn’t play off you can weaponize carpet fungus for profit. He almost laughed, but steadied himself, because laughing at your internal voices was a sure sign of insanity.