I’d seen vid of a wirehead witness once. She looked like walking gritware, and wanted nothing more than to get back to her dreams. She told them whatever they wanted to hear, so she could get it over with and climb back in the tank, and the whole time her eyes were flipping back and forth, trying not to see boring old reality.
If I did get Dad out, the kindest thing I could do would probably be to plug him into a new dreamtank on Prometheus. If Grandfather Nakada froze at paying for that, I’d call it a medical expense.
I didn’t think he’d freeze. The money involved wasn’t enough to matter to the Nakadas.
But first I had to get Dad out, and to do that, first I had to find him. The location of a particular wirehead was proprietary information, not something Seventh Heaven gave out to anyone who asked—an amazing number of wireheads had left enemies behind who might like a chance to cut a few leads on a particular dreamtank, just for old times’ sake. After all, people who had a happy life and a lot of friends in the real world didn’t buy the dream in the first place.
’Chan might know something. We might be able to run the family pack on some flunky, even though the law said we weren’t family anymore.
The door suddenly said, “I have a message from Sebastian Hsing for Carlisle Hsing.”
“I’m Carlisle Hsing,” I said. I held up my card where the scan could read it, just in case it had decided to need proof beyond whatever it had used to recognize me before.
’Chan’s voice came from the speaker. “I get off after my next table. I can meet you in the employee lounge. This better be important, Carlie.”
The door slid open. “Please follow the blue light to the employee lounge, Mis’ Hsing,” it said in its own voice. “Do not attempt to visit other areas.”
“Thank you,” I said. You never know whether software’s advanced enough to appreciate the niceties, and it doesn’t cost to use them.
Beyond the door was a drab corridor that led to a door a dozen meters away; a ball of blue light hovered in the air a few meters in. I followed it in.
It led through the door, which opened ahead of me, then around a corner to the right and down another corridor, then up a ramp to another corridor, but this one had thick red-and-black fixed-color carpet and better-quality doors opening off it. I could hear voices, human ones by the sound, somewhere.
Finally the blue light stopped in front of a door upholstered in red vinyl. The door didn’t open for me, and at first I thought something had gone wrong, but there was the light, and it looked like a lounge. I pushed on the door with my hand, and it swung inward.
The room beyond was littered with discarded plates and teacups. The red-and-black carpet was the same as in the corridor, but more worn, and with several old, dark stains. One wall shone with the gentle blue of a welcome screen. Two tables and a dozen chairs were randomized; I settled onto a chair, let it fit itself to me, then waved at the screen.
“Public access?” I asked.
“Available,” it replied.
“Tell me about Seventh Heaven Neurosurgery,” I said.
After all, if I was going to have to wait, I might as well put the time to good use.
Half a dozen images appeared, waiting for me to choose—an ad for their services, a financial statement, customer reviews, and so on. I pointed at a newsy.
At least, I thought it was a newsy, but it was hype. “There are many companies offering neurological services,” it told me, “but one stands out from the crowd. The name may be Seventh Heaven, but these dreams are second to none.”
It went on to tell me that Seventh Heaven had been around for over a century, and was based on Mars, in Sol System. I asked a question at that, and found out that the operation on Epimetheus was a franchise operated entirely by local talent—they leased the name and the equipment from the parent company.
So when Nightside City fried, what would happen to their tanks? These people didn’t even own them, and somehow I doubted corporate back on Mars was going to come reclaim them if the locals packed up and left when the sun rose over the crater rim.
The com I was talking to didn’t have any data on that, of course. I was trying to decide what I could ask that might be useful when the door opened and ’Chan stepped in. He glanced at the screen, blinked, then looked at me.
“Carlie,” he said, “what are you doing here? I thought you were on Prometheus!”
“I was,” I said. “I came back.”
“You did what?”
“I came back.”
“Why? Why would you do something stupid like that?”
“Two reasons,” I said. “First, I got hired for a job that includes poking around the old place a little. Second, I wanted to get you and Dad off-planet before the sun comes up.”
“Me... and Dad? Carlie, he’s in a tank. You know that.”
“Yeah, I know that, but what I don’t know is what Seventh Heaven’s going to do with the tanks when the dawn comes. So I want to transfer him to somewhere on Prometheus.”
’Chan stared at me for a minute, and even though he’s my brother I couldn’t read his expression. “Seventh Heaven?” he asked. “Is that the company’s name?”
“Yeah,” I said. “You don’t remember?”
“I don’t care,” he said. “Carlie, they dumped us, remember? They didn’t want us anymore.”
“He’s still our father. Genetically, if not legally.”
“Even assuming he is, which I would not be too sure of, so what? He threw us away. We don’t owe him anything.”
This time I could see the hurt on ’Chan’s face just fine. I’d seen it there before often enough. I’d thought he’d be over it by now, the way I thought I was, but I’d obviously misjudged the situation.
I wasn’t going to say that directly, though. Instead I said, “I know. I want to get him out anyway.”
He stared at me for a few seconds more before he answered, but eventually he said, “You’re more generous than I am. Go ahead, if you want, but it’s got nothing to do with me.”
“I was hoping you could help me find him.”
“Me? You’re the detective, Carlie. I’m just a croupier.”
“But you know people here. I don’t anymore.”
“Carlie, I’m glad you’re free, and I’m happy to see you again, but I’m under contract to the Ginza. I can’t go anywhere or help you with anything if it would interfere with my job.”
“That’s why I came to get you off Epimetheus.”
He didn’t try to hide his annoyance. “And how were you going to do that? I can’t get a ticket.”
“You don’t need one. I have my own ship.”
That got his attention. “The hell you do!”
“Fine, I don’t. I have the use of a ship. My client owns it, but he’s back in American City, and I’m here in Nightside City with his ship and crew, and they’re under orders to do what I say. I intend to get you and Dad aboard, then get the hell off Epimetheus for good. Are you coming?”
“Who the fuck is your client? Since when do you work for people with that kind of money?”
“Since I moved to Alderstadt,” I said. “Sayuri Nakada may not have been happy with me, but some of her friends and family thought I’d done a good job. Good word of mouth means I get work.”
“Come on, Carlie. Anyone with his own damn spaceship can do better than you! I know you’re smart, I know you do an honest job, but you’re just a widget. Someone with that kind of money can hire one of the big investigation firms.”
It jittered me that my own brother didn’t think I had the ram to do what I said, but I kept my temper. “He has reasons to keep this off the nets. You come on, ’Chan—you think I’d come in here and tell you this if it weren’t true?”
“I don’t know, Carlie. It’s crazy, and sometimes you can be crazy.”
“Fine, then, but give me this much—come to the port with me and take a look at the ship yourself. If there’s really a ship, and the captain says he�
��ll really get you off-planet, will you come?”
“Of course I will! You think I’m an idiot? I don’t want to fry. I saw what you looked like after your little stroll on the dayside. Nightside City’s going to be a fucking microwave in a couple of years.”
“Then come on to the port with me and I’ll show you.”
’Chan hesitated, then admitted, “I can’t.”
I didn’t know what he was talking about. I thought he was just being stubborn, playing the big brother who doesn’t want his little sister taking charge. “Why not?” I demanded. I remembered that IRC was almost certainly listening, given where we were, so I added, “I’m not asking you to skip out on your contract. Just come out to the port, so you can see I’m not crazy. Then you can come back here, and when I’m ready to go you can buy yourself out, nice and legal.”
“I can’t,” he repeated.
“Why not?”
“I’m on call,” he said.
“So what?” I didn’t see how that was a problem.
“It means I agreed to accept an implant,” he explained. “I can’t go more than ten minutes from the casino or my legs shut down. I can’t go as far as the port to check out your story. And I can’t buy out my contract—that was part of the deal, too. Like it or not, I’m here until sunrise.”
Chapter Six
I couldn’t believe my own brother had been that stupid. “What the hell were you thinking, agreeing to that?” I demanded.
“I was thinking the bonus would be almost enough for my fare off-planet,” he answered instantly.
“Almost enough,” I repeated.
“Yeah, almost,” he said, and I could see he was getting angry—partly with me, but partly with himself. “I knew they were keeping it just a little short of what I’d need. IRC isn’t a charity; they want me to stay here until everything cooks. I figured it would help. I wasn’t going anywhere for awhile anyway, so I’d have time to find the rest somehow. I didn’t know my kid sister was going to show up with a magic carpet to whisk me off to Prometheus.”
“It’s a ship, not a magic carpet, and getting you and Dad out of here with it is part of my fee.”
“Your fee? What the hell, Carlie—who agreed to that? Whose ship is it? Since when do you take anything but credits?”
“When I don’t want the job and the client needs to come up with a way to make me take it anyway,” I said. “A way I’m having second thoughts about the more I look at you.”
“I didn’t ask for your help!”
“Neither did Dad. I’m here anyway.”
“You can leave any time, then. I’m stuck here until my contract is up. Come back for me when the sun’s up.”
“The offer isn’t good that long. The client wants me now, and I wouldn’t work until he got you two out of here.”
“He’s willing to hack off IRC and Sixth...Seventh... the dreamtankers to get you?”
“Yes, he is.”
“I hadn’t thought my little sister was as special as all that.”
I was getting annoyed, but ’Chan had always been able to hack my code, and he was angry enough himself that he didn’t mind doing it. “Now you know,” I said.
“I know it, fine, but who knows it who doesn’t mind risking a stay on IRC’s blacklist? You never used to operate at that level.”
“I told you, I’ve done all right on Prometheus.”
He looked at me, and I could almost see the screen flash. “You said Sayuri Nakada’s friends and family—you’re working for one of the Nakadas, aren’t you?”
“None of your business. I’m here to get you off-planet, not tell you my life story.”
“That’s it, though, isn’t it? And I can guess what the case is, and why they aren’t hiring one of the big firms.”
That froze me up for half a second. He couldn’t possibly know about the rigged dream enhancer, so what did he think was up? “What are you talking about?”
“Someone hired you to investigate Yoshio Nakada’s murder, didn’t they?”
I stared at him for a moment, then said, “So Grandfather Nakada’s been murdered?”
“Of course. Don’t try to tell me you didn’t know—it must have happened while you were still on Prometheus, and there’s no way you could have missed it. The family tried to hush it up, but it’s all over the nets. And whoever hired you didn’t go to one of the big firms because they don’t trust them—they know those people will switch sides and back the highest bidder if the money’s big enough, and the killer may be one of the big heirs. You, though—you’re old-fashioned. You stay bought. Especially when they’re paying you with me and Dad.”
“Lovely theory, ’Chan,” I said, but what I was thinking was that he’d come closer to the truth than I’d wanted.
And it was... interesting to know that everyone on Epimetheus thought Grandfather Nakada was dead, that the assassination had been successful. I wasn’t sure whether it was going to make my job easier or harder, but it definitely pulled up some new menus.
One was the possibility that he really was dead, and that I’d been hired by an actor—I didn’t think it could be a simulation; sims aren’t that convincing. I could smell the old man when we spoke, and we shook hands when he left me on his ship, it wasn’t just image and audio.
Maybe an actor with a good makeover...
But why would anyone bother? And how had whoever it was gotten me the run of the old man’s yacht?
No, I’d spoken to the real Yoshio Nakada, and he’d still been alive when I left Prometheus.
“I notice you aren’t denying it,” he said.
“I’m not confirming it, either. I’m trying to figure out how I’m going to get you out of here—you and Dad both.”
“You can’t.”
“I’m not convinced.”
“Look, I’m going to have almost enough money when my contract’s up—why don’t you just leave me here until sunrise, then loan me the difference out of all the fat fees you’re collecting?”
“You know better than that. Once the sun is over the rim of the crater the fare off-planet is going to be everything you can afford, no matter how much that is. It’ll leave you broke. If I try to contribute, it’ll leave me broke.”
He tried to look as if he didn’t agree with me, but it didn’t work. He shifted aps.
“You can’t get me out, all right? Don’t worry about it. Do your job. Get Dad out if you really want to, and if you can, then go back to your magic spaceship and fly back to Alderstadt. I’ll be fine. I may be broke when I land on Prometheus, but so what?”
“So I’d prefer you to not be.”
“If I break my contract with IRC, I’ll be worse than broke. Come back when it’s run out.”
“I can’t come back.”
“Why not? Make that part of your fee.”
I looked around, wondering just where the cams were, and what software would be processing this scene. Then I turned back to my brother.
“Break your contract,” I said. “The fine’s limited to a million credits, and I can cover that.”
He stared at me as if I’d been pixelated. “How did you know that, and where would you get a million credits?”
“My client.”
“Well, your client must know that whatever the official fine is, IRC isn’t going to be content with that.”
I couldn’t argue with that—unless ’Chan was under someone’s protection, someone like Grandfather Nakada, IRC was likely to be vindictive. I knew that from first-hand experience.
“Why can’t you just wait for me? What’s the rush?”
I wished I knew who or what would be reviewing the recordings of this conversation, but it seemed a pretty safe bet that Yoshio Nakada wouldn’t be on the alert list; after all, if ’Chan was right, everyone in Nightside City thought he was dead, and the old man himself had said he had no reliable communication with anyone on Epimetheus.
“’Chan, I made a deal to get you out as my down payment. I don�
��t start the investigation until you and Dad are on Prometheus. You think my client’s willing to wait until sunrise?”
“So put it on hold! Go ahead and do your job, then come back for me.”
“You really think I’ll be able to find Nakada’s killer?”
That stopped him dead.
“Oh,” he said. “I assumed... I mean, I thought... I always thought you were pretty good at what you do.”
“I’m not bad,” I said. “But think about it—someone went after Yoshio Nakada. You asked me when I started working for people who have their own ships, and I tried to click past it, but you had a good point. I’m a widget. I’m going to try, I’m going to put in an honest effort, but I’m just an ordinary detective. I can’t hack the universe’s code. Anyone who could get past Nakada’s security can probably hide her tracks well enough that I’ll never find her. My client’s playing a long shot, hiring me. If that long shot comes in, if I find whoever’s behind it, then we’re smooth, I get paid and you get a free ride to Prometheus, but ’Chan, what if it doesn’t pay off? I can’t ask for a fee I haven’t earned.”
“Well, you could ask,” he said wryly.
“But I wouldn’t get it. But if I get you off Epimetheus now, that’s my deposit, I can keep that. Get it?”
“I get it,” he acknowledged. “And I appreciate the try, Carlie, but it’s not going to work. I’m stuck here. Find Dad, take him back to Prometheus with you, do your job, and if you pull it off you can come back for me, and if you can’t, hey, I’m no worse off than I was an hour ago.”
I sighed. I wasn’t ready to give up, but I also saw I wasn’t going to convince ’Chan of anything unless I could bring something new to the conversation, something I hadn’t thought of yet. “Fine,” I said. “Can you help me find Dad?”
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