Ill Wind_Chaos Witches

by Tal Turing

  The clown raised its painted eyebrows and beckoned to her, slouching a bit, trying to look less intimidating.

  “I don't think so,” Cyn smiled keeping her eye on it as she took one step back. Her breath and energy had returned and she was ready for a run home. The clown's grin disappeared and was replaced with menace. It let the end of the copper rod drop to the ground where it was dragged across the path, metal audibly scraping stone. Then it giggled, raised the object again and took a step toward her.

  Too late, Cyn sensed the presence behind her and was knocked forward, her chest slamming into the dirt. A hand pressed the back of her head, pushing her mouth into the ground, muffling her protests. She struggled and managed to turn onto her back where a fist slammed into the side of her face, stunning her. She tried to get up and was struck from the other side. Her world went gray and when her vision returned a rough hand covered her mouth and her whole body was being racked by violent thrusts. She could hear her own grunts.

  She was in pain, she knew, but that was nothing compared to the panic which was emanating from every pore of her body at the thought of the large, evil clown; his insane giggles and the sound of his make-shift penis scraping against stone. Was it getting closer?

  Tears in her eyes, Cyn tried once again to get up. She managed to twist her body but her attacker drove her forward, her flesh of her face scraping against gravel. Her eyes looked up, along the dirty path, to where the clown stood practicing with the copper rod. Suddenly it fell to its knees, laughing hysterically at its own antics.

  Sensing a pause from her attacker she pushed to her feet, trying to pull away, but she was violently pulled and spun around...back the way she had come. The next thing she knew, she was running.

  Cyn had run straight back to her room where she locked the door and stood, stunned, in front of a mirror for almost five minutes, horrified by the cuts, the bruises, the dirt and the skinless gouges in her young face.

  She grabbed her half-packed bag and fled the building, taking a taxi straight to SkyTran Station.

  Her biggest fear, one that would consume and terrify her for the next thirty hours was that someone would see her face, would see the damage to her face, and somehow her Techview trip would be canceled. Who would want a hospie with a damaged faced?

  She hid in a damp, dark alcove within the station for almost a full day, dreading every announcement, fearing that someone was looking for her. Then, with only minutes until the doors were closed, she ran for her hugger and spent the ten hour journey shaking in her berth.

  After she arrived in Techview, it was two days before anyone even asked her about the welts on her face which had started to heal. She explained that her ex-boyfriend had hit her.

  “I wouldn't let that become a habit if I were you.” was all they said. She bought a pair of leapers almost the next week and didn't sleep through the night for almost a month, frequently waking to check the locks on the door, sometimes sleeping under the desk rather than in a bed. Within eight months she had washed out of the hospie program.

  Then, to her complete and joyful surprise, she was moved to Transom Ops, where she had been ever since.

  Interview

  “Are you alright?” Pol Gente had taken her arm, gently, and was looking at her with obvious concern.

  “I apologize,” Cyn replied. “It was just...a panic attack.”

  “Was it the man? Did he concern you?”

  “No,” she responded simply, “I did not know them.”

  “Oh, I only saw one person.”

  “There were two.”

  Minutes later, the pair had returned to a cafe and he ordered them both a cup of tea.

  “I'm afraid I have to disrupt our conversation with business,” she began as she sipped her tea.

  “I was having such a nice time, I just assumed you were in Hospitality and that for some reason my old friend Paul wanted to be extra kind to me.”

  “No, that was my pleasure, but now I have some questions, on behalf of Transom Ops.”

  His eyes widened.

  “Oh, Ops? So I wasn't so far off about Paul being involved. I would have been more careful if I had known...”

  “Oh, really? I just wanted to ask you a question about the current perception of the villages toward the corporate world...”

  “I see,” Pol said thoughtfully considering. “Well, I have noticed more complaints, not just from one village, but collectively. Not that I have any power or any privileged information, but I do hear things and sometimes local leaders ask my advice.”

  “Would you say that any of those issues are of a serious nature?”

  At this point, she heard his heart rate change and his breathing as well.

  “I hate to be the one to judge the severity...”

  “I understand, Pol, but please do use your own feelings on this.”

  “Well, yes, some of them are quite serious.”

  “How serious? Theft? Worse than that?”

  “I only hear things.”

  “That is fine, I understand, so what is the most serious complaint you have heard?”

  “I have heard of assaults and kidnappings.”

  “Plural.”

  “What?”

  “More than one assault? More than one kidnapping?”

  “I did not say that.”

  “You did. Did you misspeak?”

  “I am not sure. I'm an old man and sometimes I confuse myself. You should come and visit my wife and I. But now I must be going.”

  “I would love to do that. But, I had only one more question. Its about Transom Industries.”

  Pol laughed.

  “You are asking me?”

  “Yes, I want to know why the villagers believe Transom is behind these crimes. What proof have they?”

  The man went pale.

  “I did not say that anyone blamed Transom.”

  “I'm glad. So it's not true?”

  Pol looked at her, his face both confused and frustrated.

  “My dear, I can't just comment on any...”

  “If you have not heard such a thing you can just say that.”

  Pol looked up at the ceiling, his face reddening.

  “You should be ashamed, to use such a charming girl in such a way. I refuse to dirty her soul by speaking corporate politics!”

  And with that he rushed off.

  Stalked

  Cyn was not without guilt that she had upset her former teacher, but it was also clear to her that he was hiding information which could damage her company, the one to which she had duties and loyalties. He had probably thought he could handle her questions, never anticipating that she might take a guess and rely on his sense of honor to not tell an untruth.

  The AI feed was overflowing with chatter after Pol's disclosure. Suddenly there were five more executives on the line and all of them were speaking at once. They seemed to even have forgotten she was there. As she listened, she became aware of Donnie's avatar moving in her direction, she avoided him and instructed LilAI to stop updating her position, she would not let him track her. Of course, Transom security had higher privileges but she would be safe from Donnie.

  As she worked her way through Transom House, with all the expertise of one who had been virtually raised there, she noticed that the Transom executives were, one by one, dropping off the original communication feed with some concluding comments about meeting again tomorrow. There was not much she could add, she had no idea why the villagers would have any issues with Transom, especially since her time in New Berlyn had been restricted to the grounds.

  She reflected on the events of the day, noting that the gala was moving into full swing. She had forgotten about the old copper statue or she would have never gone there. This was the second time that old wound was reopened. Still, she felt that it was a ghost she needed to face.

  Her decision was made for her when LilAI showed her that both Donnie and Brad were heading in her direction, together. She slipped through the
porch and into the gardens.

  She walked through the garden paths, avoiding party revelers, until she found the small path which led to the statue of Henryk Transom. Even upon seeing it, she felt her heart pound in her chest and she readied her AI to call for security, if that even made sense.

  There was no one around and she crept cautiously toward the statue, her AI picking up only distant conversations. Her eyes fixed on the sculpture's walking stick as she approached. Some foliage covered the bottom half of the copper rod and it was only as she got closer that she could see that the bottom half was missing, twisted off at the midpoint. And there was something distinctive on the ground near by. The red nose of a clown.

  Cyn staggered back, even as her AI isolated the approaching conversations and dutifully pulled them in.

  One of the hospies saw her enter the gardens. We'll have to split up to find her.

  What if she isn't here?

  Well, then I' can ask security to locate her AI. They know who I am. What if she doesn't want to go with you?

  She will, trust me, the Doctor gave me something to make sure....

  Where is Miriam? I though she was going to help us...

  Cyn turned back the way she came but their callouts were moving quickly through the garden. She couldn't stay on the path. Fortunately she knew the grounds well, she entered the foliage near the statue and pushed through the trees. Once she was out of sight, she stopped, kicked off her heels and snatched them before scurrying off. She followed the outskirts of the garden and made her way toward a rear service entrance.

  At first she had avoided Donnie simply because she didn't feel like speaking with him this evening, especially considering how insistent he had been previously. But now he had enlisted Brad's help and that seemed strange to her and she couldn't help but be concerned. But when she heard mention of Miriam and her 'Doctor', then she was sure that their intentions were sinister.

  When Brad talked about engaging security she knew she had to flee as they could pinpoint her AI in a flash and if they enlisted a guard, she could be taken almost anywhere. In some ways the gala was starting to remind her of that festival evening when she had been attacked so long ago. And why was it always the Harillas? Did they all hate her so much? The other two had never cared much for her, she knew, but Brad? He had always been the good one but recently he had been acting strangely. Somehow he had been compromised, perhaps even blackmailed.

  She passed through the service entry below the porch. The lighting was dim and she moved past some hospies without them taking any real notice. She found a similarly dark, dank, stone stairway and ascended to the next floor, her heels in hand.

  Her destination, the executive wing was on the fourth floor. But as she approached it, she heard someone descending. She made the decision to steal onto the third floor and hide in a restroom even though her AI was already indicating a presence, someone she wished she could avoid.

  Cynnamon stopped short as she moved into the room. There was a young lady standing in the corner. Her hair was white. The woman moved her head, finding Cyn through the reflection in the mirror.

  “You. Again.” Cyn muttered as she stepped to the side and let LilAI scan. There were two officers outside in the hall, but they were moving away, slowly. She had chosen the devil she knew. The woman was on her knees and it was clear she had vomited. Perhaps too much alcohol?

  “I did tell you to stay away from me,” Miriam whined back, turning to look at her. Cyn could tell she was sick but she couldn't invest much time in the girl now.

  “I'd love to, but apparently some of your friends are looking for me. Mind telling me why?”

  “I have a headache. How about if you go back to your room and we'll talk when I feel better...”

  Cyn looked at the white haired girl, drool was falling from her face. Her eyes were blank, as if she could not see. But her head was shaking slowly, clearly from side to side. 'Don't go to your room.'

  “You've chosen some interesting friends. Playing other people's game doesn't seem like your style, Miri...”

  “Judge when you see the results....”

  “I am.”

  Cyn saw her opening and couldn't wait. She slipped out of the room and moved quickly up the stairs. The no longer could trust Miriam but of course she would not return to her room, that was much too obvious.

  The executive wing was her best hope, it was intentionally left out of tracking by face readers and security monitors, mostly so that executives could move their guests, many of which were sexpies, in and out with discretion. She just wasn't sure she would be allowed within.

  Her chance, her hope lay with Lysander Barrett, the security executive who had invited her to his room on her first day. He had since left her alone and she never really understood why he had propositioned her but if the invite was still open she would be allowed on the executive floor...and she was. She breathed a sigh of relief, assuming a casual demeanor as if she had every right to be here. Safe for now, she walked on.

  Still, she could not wander here indefinitely, she knew, and as she approached Barrett's chambers, she weighed her alternatives. Her AI was not providing readings beyond the ultra-private walls of the executive suites, so she didn't know who was here and who was not.

  She stopped, time was running out. She could knock on his door and he might take her in. If he did not answer, she could pretend to wait for him, but how long could she play that game? Here she was in the middle of a den of executives, a level of officer she had always avoided like the plague as there was very little they could not do to a lowly asset. But downstairs she was being stalked, chased and it was only a matter of time...

  A door opened and Tym Matheson stepped out. She recognized him even before LilAI started to provide his physiological information.

  “Dorothy!” he laughed, taking a tentative step in her direction. His eyes slid down her arm to inspect the object she was carrying, the dirt-covered heels. He was surprised, confused and his stress-vitals did not level off as she approached, they only elevated. It was the best chance she would get.

  “Mr. Wizard, I presume?” she smiled as she walked by him and into his room. It was only then that she considered that he might have company. The room was large, and there were other rooms within but there was no motion nor sounds and her AI concurred.

  “You know this is almost ten times the size of my quarters?” she mused as he followed her back into the room, the door sliding shut behind them. She spied a large external AUI monitor perched on a table near one end of a luxurious couch, the screen was on and there was a half-empty glass of wine near by.

  “I assume you need to hide out?” he sighed, as he walked back to his monitor and slumped into the adjacent couch. “I finally get a stunning, young, operations asset in my chambers and it's only to hide her from other men?” He waved her to a chair.

  She beamed at him with genuine happiness. So far this was a much better choice than Barrett.

  “Are all executives so charming? But you are correct, might I stay here for a while?” He had offered her a chair near the other end of the couch but she wasn't ready to relax yet. She eyed the rest of the room, it had all the orderly, uncluttered, decor of a posh, hotel room. She walked around the room, as if admiring the design, while LilAI examined it all. But there was no one else there, nothing out of the ordinary.

  “Tell me something,” he asked with interest and she noticed that his heart rate stabilized almost immediately. “How did you know Mr. Gente was hiding something? How did you know the villages had charges against us?”

  Cyn shrugged. “I overheard some words between him and his friend early on. It was clear they were no fans of Transom. That in itself is not uncommon of course. But when we spoke about other corporations, even the Top Five, his demeanor was neutral, not even critical. But when we spoke of Transom politics or Transom operations, he became agitated. When I told him I was in Ops, he was clearly irritated. To be honest, if not for the fact that I w
as in one of his classes as a child, I am not sure he would have spoken to me at all. Naturally I just put two and two together and took the guess. Although he didn't want to tell us directly, for whatever reason, from what I know of him he would be loathe to lie straight to our face. He probably feels that such deception is something that only corpers would do.”

  “Paul...I mean Patron, said the exact same thing. Well, that was a nice piece of work young lady.”

  “So, I can stay? No strings?” she asked innocently, still testing the waters with him.

  “Of course,” he began, his face confused and concerned, “Are you really hiding?”

  Committed, she dropped the heels onto the floor with an apologetic smile, ignored the chair he had offered and instead slid into an open space on the couch near him.

  “No joke, I'm afraid. There is a group of officers searching desperately for me and I am worried by their intentions. The party is getting wild and I think they could get away with things they normally could not. It's a longer story.”

  Tym relaxed and smiled, crossing his long arms behind his silver-streaked head.

  “Don't hate me for saying this, but you are still Techview property. You are completely safe, I could break their contract in a second and ship you home in the morning...”

  “Like luggage?” Cyn smiled, her eyes teasing.

  “I wouldn't have said that,” he smiled. “Should I? You could even catch this evening's hugger.”

  “Really, you would do that? Right now if I wanted?” Cyn asked, interested.

  Tym nodded, reaching over to his AI.

  “Don't,” she said simply, placing a hand on his shoulder and leaning forward. “Mother sent me here, to complete an assignment for them, I can't abort it.”

  “I know,” Tym said, relaxing. “Well, of course it might be better to face Patron than Mother.”

  “You know? Do you know why I am here?”

  “I know Mother and I know she sent you here at Patron's request. But I don't know why, I was shocked to find you waiting tables but I assumed it was part of whatever you are doing. Then, after this evening's meeting, I assumed you are supposed to get to the bottom of this Humantis business.”