Velvet Dogma About 3300 wds

by Ochse, Weston

  "Then what's the problem?"

  No sooner had the question passed her lips when the windows exploded inwards. Rebecca screamed and propelled herself backwards, tripping and falling to the floor. Against the backdrop of an L.A. night, five figures vaulted over the window sills, landing in the room at a crouch. Black against the lighter darkness of the room, their features were indistinguishable.

  "Stay back!"

  Kumi's command was followed by another voice, this one low and laced with static. "Gei wo ni'de xin." Kumi sucked in air at the words. She flipped open her vidScreen again, but before she could utter a command, a kick flashed out, sending the device clattering into the darkness.

  "Get up, Bec." Andy hauled Rebecca to her feet. Finding her balance, she reached out for something to use to defend herself with. She grasped something long and solid.

  The figures began to move towards Kumi, who blocked them from where Rebecca and Andy stood. With their cat-like movements and constantly moving arms as they wind-milled from one defense to another, Rebecca couldn't help but worry for Kumi's safety. How could one woman take on five of these...these...assassins was the only word she could think of to use.

  "Kumi look out!"

  "Stay back. Don't come near me." Kumi shot forward, her right foot smashing against the side of the closest assassin's head. He went down, but was replaced by another. This one didn't wait. He attacked with a flurry of punches that Kumi somehow managed to block, her arms moving at odd angles to intersect the blows before they did damage.

  "Come on," Andy whispered urgently. "We gotta go!"

  He'd grabbed Rebecca's wrist, but she jerked free. "No—we need to help Kumi. She can't take them by herself."

  "And you can?" He grabbed her wrist again and jerked her close. "Listen, we need to get away so we can figure out what's going on."

  She could just make out his face, lines of worry and concern masking any fear. He was right. Like her brother's death, this couldn't be coincidence. She needed to figure out what the hell was happening.

  Kumi screamed in pain then redoubled her attack sending another of the assassins to the ground.

  Rebecca couldn't leave this woman to fight alone. "Kumi!"

  "Get out of here." Kumi groaned as two of the assassins attacked at once, a kick getting past her defense. "Run, Rebecca, run!"

  That was all Rebecca needed. She let Andy pull her out the door. They crashed into someone in the dark hallway, but their momentum carried them through and down the stairs before the man could recover. When they hit the street, they headed south. They didn't stop running until they were bathed in the busy lights of Olympic Boulevard.

  But they had another problem. Her parole collar began to emit a whine. People turned and stared. A policeman talking to a cabbie across the street looked towards the sound. When he saw them he spoke into his PODcom and headed their way.

  Chapter 4

  Dressed in a light grey jump suit with a black utility belt at the waist, the policeman waited for traffic to thin before he stepped into the street. Like so many of the people she'd seen, a pod covered his left eye. But where it seemed almost a fashion statement on the others, on this symbol of governmental authority the pod gave him an inhuman cyclopean appearance. He pointed his black gloved hand at the traffic light which immediately switched to red.

  "We have to get this off of you."

  "Why is it making that noise?"

  "Proxemics. That woman Kumi probably has a proximity dampener. As long as you're within a certain distance of her, your parole collar remains inactive. Keeps people from running way."

  She looked back and the policeman was halfway across the street. Part of her wanted to run up to him and explain why her collar was going off, explain how her reintroduction specialist had told her to run as she held off an attack by assassins. But then she'd never been good with the police. Last time she'd even seen a cop had been in court after she'd been arrested for trying to save the world. She made her decision.

  She yanked Andy. "Come on." She let go of his hand as she accelerated into a full sprint, heading down Olympic. She screamed for the people on the sidewalk to move out of her way. For the most part they did. Only once was she forced to plow through a crowd as they waited to get into a restaurant. An elegantly dressed man with pods on both eyes went down hard.

  She slowed long to see if he was okay, but the noise from her collar sent all eyes to her. Even the man on the ground looked upon her like a criminal and wanted nothing to do with her. He scooted away as if she'd hurt him. Putting her head down, she continued to the corner of 20th Street. She started to turn right, but was jerked back into her original direction by Andy. She looked over her shoulder and saw the policeman a dozen yards back and gaining.

  "Follow me." Andy sped ahead.

  She felt her side beginning to burn. Her breathing was ragged. Her legs felt heavier than before, yet she still found the reserves she needed to pour on the speed. By God, she wasn't about to be caught before she figured things out.

  Halfway down the block, Andy turned down an alley. Rebecca made the turn and watched as he shoved an industrial-size garbage can into the entrance, broadside so it wedged against the walls.

  The policeman wasn't able to get through until Andy and Rebecca reached the far end of the alley, but that was enough. They turned left and jogged over to 19th Street. A bus waited at the curb for an elderly woman to maneuver the stairs. They followed close behind her as the doors sssked shut, then found a seat.

  But the electronic whine of her collar blared in the confines of the bus. Rebecca felt the glares from the other passengers. Had there been a driver, the bus might have stopped, but the vehicle was automated. She tried to catch her breath and turned to Andy.

  He'd produced a pair of slim tools from a side pocket and began to work on her collar. "Give me a minute and I'll shut this damn thing up."

  Rebecca caught the gaze of a regal-looking black woman. Her high cheekbones, spiked silver hair and matching silver POD all lent to her striking looks. Rebecca gave her a tentative smile which wasn't returned. Instead, the woman continued to stare at her, mouth moving as she sub-vocalized commands into her POD. To whom Rebecca could only guess. Was the woman talking to the police? Rebecca shook her head, pleading with her eyes for the woman to stop, not to tell.

  "Keep still. Almost have it," murmured Andy.

  The woman turned away. Rebecca looked at the other passengers, and as she locked gazes with each one, they turned away. This wasn't their problem. This had nothing to do with them. It was funny how she felt pulled in two directions. On the one hand she wanted them to ignore her so she and Andy could escape and find a place to figure out what to do next. On the other hand, she wanted them to help her. She wanted them to insist on making her business their business.

  One thing that struck her as she watched the other passengers was how different they were from the people she'd known before she'd been sentenced. Besides the seemingly ever-present POD, some had what appeared to microchips attached to their temples. Others had had augmentations done to their eyes like the kid across the aisle from her who grinned back beneath cat's eyes. Still others sported shades of skin that couldn't possible have come from even the most skewed genetic lottery. She looked at the passengers and felt more different than she should have. Nowhere was the humanity she'd fought and gone to prison for. Nowhere was the feeling of family. She decided right then as she stared at a man who could have been her father that if she was able to get free, if she was able to survive, she wasn't going to help these people. While she'd been gone, humanity had engineered a future that she'd never anticipated, never even dreamed, could be possible. Sadly for her, it was a future that she despised.

  The whine abruptly stopped.

  "There," Andy said with satisfaction. "That should make some of the passengers happier."

  Who cares, she thought. "Where to now? We're okay, right?"

  Shoving his tools back into his side pocket,
Andy put his arm around her and spoke into her ear. "Let's pretend we're together, Bec." He waited until she didn't pull away, then added, "We're not out of the woods yet. There's a tracking device in this baby, and I don't have the tools to get it off."

  "Where will we go?"

  "I have this guy I deal with in Hollywood. If he can't do it, nobody can."

  They rode for another five minutes, then transferred to a new bus. Fifteen minutes later they reached Hollywood. They disembarked at Sunset Boulevard and Fairfax, running through several alleys in their attempt to spoof the police.

  "We're luckier than you know," Andy had said back on the bus. "All in all there are less cops working now than there was before you went in. With technological oversight, flesh and blood policemen became somewhat redundant. Those left deal with High Crimes like murder. Unless someone places you on a high priority list, nobody's going to come for you. All we have to worry about is blind luck—a policeman stumbling into one."

  Which is why they skulked the alleys.

  But so were a lot of other people who didn't want to be noticed, and not all were the kind to extend social graces to two souls in their time of need. inVids leaned against the walls every ten feet lost in some drama where they were king, queen or orgy slave, their slack faces inscrutable. Whatever their fiction, their reality could not be changed. Rebecca couldn't believe the Sisters of the ID frequented this place. Most of the inVids seemed only breaths away from dying. Their skin was poxed. Their cheeks had collapsed, the hollows filled with dark shadow.

  Several cowled men whispered around a barrel roaring with fire. One passed a slim object to the other, then locked eyes with Rebecca. Although his face was hidden, his eyes glowed with a malice she'd rarely seen. Shivers slid down her spine.

  Three gravBoarders stood to the side. These wore black muscle shirts and shorts with white stripes. As they approached, one dropped his board to hover, stepped aboard then sped away ahead of them. The others sneered, their gazes fearlessly traveling the contours of her body. Now that she was closer, Rebecca noticed they wore make-up, their eyes heavily outlined, their lips an impossible red. Her gaze drifted down their legs to their boards as she passed and what she saw there flipped her heart. Five ultra-thin cables jutted from the back of the gravBoard arching forward. Amidst a swirl of tattoos on the back of the boarder's right calf were five protruding receptacles. They didn't merely ride a board, they became a part of it. She couldn't help but wonder if it hurt.

  They turned out of the alley, went right and slipped into an exotic clothes store on the corner of Gower and Sunset.

  "Here we are." Andy flashed a smile and shoved his hands in his pockets.

  Rebecca glanced around at the pink and purple boas. Impossibly spiked heels sat beneath torso mannequins strapped with bustiers over-optimistic in their determination to harness twenty inch waists. G-strings, thongs, camisoles, corsets, garter belts and—

  God what is that crotchless sequined panty and what is that vidScreen doing in the back?

  Rebecca had never been a prude, but she was appalled at Andy's taste. They'd risked life and limb to shop like a porn queen? "Please tell me we're not here to shop."

  Andy chuckled. "I knew you'd react this way. What with being away for so long and the way you were bef—" He snapped his mouth shut. His face turned red. He jammed his hands deeper into his pockets.

  "What do you mean, before?"

  A salesperson materialized. Almost seven feet tall with long blue hair, dressed in a leopard's skin bustier, matching panties with fiber optic garters and six inch heels, her sex seemed a mystery but her sex appeal was full blast. "Can I do something for you?" she purred.

  "Tell Panchet he has a customer," Andy said, jerking his head towards the back.

  "So sad. And I thought you came here for me." She tossed her head and disappeared behind a curtain next to the cash register.

  "What do you mean, before?" repeated Rebecca.

  "Let's not talk about it here."

  "Is there a better place?"

  "Anywhere else."

  But Rebecca wasn't going to give up. "Open mouth. Insert foot. You're not getting away with it that easy. What did you mean by that crack?"

  He sighed. "I didn't know you then. Me and your brother were just teenagers, kids really. We never thought of you in these terms." He held out his arms to encompass the room. "You were the sister-type. You were..." He let her fill in the blank.

  The Amazonian warrior returned before he could finish. "He said come on back."

  "You said you didn't know me then," she said as they stepped past. "Well, you don't know me now."

  "You're right," he said without looking at her. "Sorry about that."

  The apology fell flat and did little to ameliorate her increasingly worsening attitude.

  They tramped down a hallway stacked with boxes on either side until they came to an old fashioned door. Andy knocked. Following a grunt from within, he opened the door. Rebecca followed and closed it behind her. As she took in the scene, everything fell into place. The lingerie shop was a front. The room was filled with electronics of all shapes and sizes. Some were new and still in their shrink wrap, and some stolen, wires still dangling frayed and cut. The long walls to her left and right had workbenches crammed with tools of all shapes and sizes. Projects in all phases of completion competed with vidScreens for dominance of the space. Row upon row of shelves hugged the walls above these benches. These too were filled to bursting.

  A square workbench with a hollow center took up the back third of the room. This bench was just as crowded as the others, but lights pierced the working space, illuminating swirls of cigar smoke, rising from several ashtrays around the square. In the center sat an imperious Asian, intelligent eyes pinned in a hideously unattractive face. Moles crested broad ears. Pocks marked heavy cheeks. A wedge-shaped nose sprawled above sausage-shaped lips which gripped a long cigar, the smoke curling into the air like a reverse tornado.

  "Do you have it?" asked the man in a low drawl. "Please tell me you have it."

  "I do." Andy pulled the vid he'd taken from David's apartment from his back pocket and tossed it. The man caught it and immediately moved to a work station where he began to attach wires. "But that can wait, Panchet. I want to introduce someone to you."

  "Introduce?" Panchet glanced up irritably from his work and examined Rebecca as if he'd never seen her before. Suddenly he dropped what he was doing and moved to the edge nearest where Andy and Rebecca stood. "Is this her?" he asked with more than a little awe.

  Rebecca exchanged looks with Andy, who rolled his eyes.

  "Yes, this is her. Panchet Rao, Rebecca Mines. Rebecca Mines, this is Panchet Rao."

  They exchanged greetings.

  "Does she know? Is she—"

  Rebecca caught Andy shaking his head. When he saw that she'd seen him, he stopped.

  "She knows about her brother, Panchet."

  "So sad." Panchet puffed on his cigar as his fingertips did a nervous dance atop his belly. Then he fixed Rebecca with his bright eyes. "David was a good boy, you know. He told me that he wanted you to be proud of him. He told me that you should—"

  "Panchet. We don't have the time for that." Andy again shook his head, this time not trying to hide it. "We have more pressing problems. Namely this," he pointed at Rebecca's collar.

  "Ahh!" Realization dawned in the man's eyes. "Have a seat over there and I'll get that off in a moment."

  Rebecca found a chair and sat. The man was mildly comical. An obsequious Asian with a southern accent wasn't the persona he projected. Suddenly Panchet rose above the workbench and moved through the air directly towards Rebecca. She threw up her hands in surprise as he descended, his legs replaced by a circular gravBoard. He came to an abrupt stop within inches of her.

  "Don't worry about me. I can steer this thing better than my own legs," he said proudly.

  Rebecca lowered her arms and gave an embarrassed grin.

  Panch
et beamed back at her as he went to work on her collar. Smoke from the cigar still wedged in his mouth surrounded them, but she didn't dare move. Rebecca let her gaze stray to where his legs had been. Like the gravBoarder in the alley, ultra-thin cables snaked from the board into sleeves embedded in what remained of the man's legs, primarily the upper thigh. The board itself hovered without any apparent means. No exhaust. No thrust. No air or spatial disturbance. If it was truly gravitational thrust, someone must have discovered a way to tap into gravitational radiation, or more probably a method to use gravitrons.

  She stopped as she realized she'd been thinking in scientific terms. She'd been the dull, non-threatening prisoner for so long, she'd almost forgotten she'd been able to hold her own at scientific conventions. Her specialty had been quantum propagation theory—the idea that viral algorithms could be used as tools for information gathering. But science was science. Just as an English Major had a passing knowledge about Camus and French literature, a Math Major could understand earth sciences and their interaction with propulsion theory. Still, the thrill of actually using her intelligence was exhilarating. Arguably the worst part of prison hadn't been the physical confinement, but the mental.

  A few minutes ago she felt nearly helpless. She'd been following, depending on someone a nearly a stranger to help her. No longer did that need to be the rule.

  "There. That won't be broadcasting anymore."

  After Panchet unsnapped the collar, her hands immediately went to massage her neck.

  Panchet examined the collar a moment, then tossed it towards one of the working surfaces. It caught like a horseshoe on a clamp and hung there. "So what happened?"

  Andy gave the two-minute version of the story, occasionally interrupted by Panchet. Finally the Asian hovered back to his space between the benches. He punched a few things and snapped on a POD. Three minutes later he puffed hyperactively on the cigar, nodded twice, then tossed the POD atop a pile of gear.

  "Good news and bad news."