Catch and Kill

by J D Lasica

  “Interesting. But we’re not here to invest.”

  “Sightseeing then?” the captain asked with a wink. “Have you had a chance to see Altstadt?”

  She’d taken an early morning walk along the cobbled Old Town with its medieval buildings, narrow alleyways, and colorful bay windows. “Yes, beautiful.”

  “Make sure you visit Wildspitz before you go home.” The captain pointed with his pipe to the highest peak rising in the distance to the southeast. “Spectacular views, especially at night. ”

  Kaden looked out over the vast lake. “There’s a purity here. Can’t say I love it.”

  She smiled politely, excused herself, and moved to the back of the boat. She was a New Yorker, attracted to the city’s grit and grime, its helter-skelter welter of neuroses, its nonstop nervous energy. No sense trying to explain that to a stranger.

  She checked the Internet signal. Surprisingly strong out here. Carlos had set up a series of high-powered encrypted Wi-Fi hotspots along the banks. Now she’d be able to tap into the conversations Tosh’s micro-drones were starting to pick up. Nico set up the ultra-long-range shotgun microphone to target anyone on shore who looked suspicious. The equipment came from Yuan Deng, one of the missing girls’ fathers. Judy, wearing a headset, came up and offered a Swiss pastry. She could provide instant translations, helping them decide when to move on to a new target.

  The always-on set-up had another benefit: She could consult with Amelia. She didn’t know how the captain would react to her talking to herself, so she moved to the rear of the craft.

  “Well, this is nice.” Amelia appeared, sitting on the edge of the boat in the lake’s choppy waters. “Smell that fresh mountain air!”

  Amelia couldn’t smell anything, of course. Kaden suppressed an urge to warn her about sitting on the stern. So she asked, “The new language libraries up and running?”

  “Sie wetten. Scommetti. Usted apuesta. Tu paries. Det kan—”

  “Okay, I get it. You’ll need to shut down all your other processes—including visualization—once we start.”

  “Then I should stretch my legs.” She hopped to her feet and pretended to stroll around the deck. “Oh, Kaden, my love. I’ll need lots of bandwidth crunching these keywords looking for patterns. So I’ll get back to decrypting the Project Ezekiel file as soon as we have a more robust Wi-Fi signal.”

  “Yeah, that’s fine, keyword patterns are the top priority. And let’s add one more keyword phrase to watch for. Dražen Savić.”

  “Roger. Amelia out.”

  Nico looked over. “Who you talking to? Oh, right.”

  “Ready to start?” Kaden asked him.

  He aimed his high-powered binoculars across the promenade of charming storefronts, historic landmarks, and park benches that were starting to fill up with tourists and conference-goers. “Let’s do this.”

  Kaden wanted to make the most of their short time in Zug. While the others continued with their surveillance on both land and water, she headed to the shopping district and bought a risque low-cut dress for tonight’s grand ball. Carlos hacked into the guest list and added their names. Then she headed to the hotel where the first panels were just beginning.

  They wouldn’t get much use out of her attending the conference sessions. So she headed to the hotel bar to drum up some attention. She had changed into the kind of respectable upscale wardrobe that a rare minerals millionaire like Jordan Wilkerson might wear. Full-on slutty mode would come later at the ball.

  “Can I buy you a drink?”

  Well, that was fast! Sidling up next to her at the bar was a dark-haired guy a little older than her, late twenties, wearing a fresh haircut and a designer suit that signaled, I’m a player.

  “Why not?” she said.

  She had no idea how to do the flirty bar-talk banter that singles seem to master.

  “What brings a beautiful woman like you to this gathering of financial geeks and freaks?” He had an accent she couldn’t place, but she couldn’t bother Amelia, who was still processing conversations taking place in hundreds of locations.

  “I’m here to explore new opportunities.”

  “And I as well.” He brushed his jacket against her bare shoulder, even though there was plenty of room to spread out.

  “They say the real action happens in the hallways and on the streets.”

  “And in the hotel bars?”

  “Perhaps.” She smiled. “What is it you do in this brave new world?”

  “I make money. A lot of money. And you?”

  “I run a rare-earth minerals family business in Alberta. But I’m looking to diversify into something with higher risk, higher reward. Know of anything?” Am I pushing too fast?

  “I may. But there are many possible kinds of ventures to explore. We should discuss. Perhaps later tonight?”

  She suspected business was the last thing on this guy’s mind. Even if he was mixed up in some shady operations, he wasn’t about to bring a complete stranger into his confidence.

  Kaden smiled and reached into her purse. She pulled out one of the business cards Tosh had created for her. The ones with a microchip-size listening device embedded in the image of her.

  She wrote someone else’s room number on the back and tucked it into his breast pocket. She smiled. “See you at midnight.”

  21

  Samana Cay

  Alex followed Rachel out of the Ready Room building and along the ridge to their destination. The enormous Fantasy Theater was off-limits to guests until it was time for their Fantasy Live simulation. They entered the main doors and stood in a large, dimly lit open space, perhaps an atrium.

  “It’s time to get outfitted.” Rachel reached into her satchel and retrieved a different-looking kind of Eyewear. “Tonight you’ll be using these.”

  Instead of his designer smartglasses, the new Eyewear in her palm reminded him of the goggles swimmers wore at the Summer Olympics. She wrapped the rubbery device around the back of his head and adjusted the fit around his eyes. The bright blue lenses were small but still provided a wide field of vision. The sides of the Eyewear contained a pair of earbuds with tiny audio speakers.

  “Don’t take this off under any circumstances. Understand?”

  “Why?”

  “It violates the Terms. You want an immersive experience, don’t you? The fantasy is diluted if you’re thinking about the equipment or focusing on the reality layer.”

  He nodded and placed the earbuds into his ear canals.

  “See, you can still hear me fine,” Rachel said.

  “Got it. Anything else?”

  “Let’s walk.” She grabbed his hand in hers and they padded across the atrium of the cavernous building.

  Alex saw three corridors up ahead leading in different directions. Two remained shrouded in shadows while the middle walkway glowed a soft yellow. As he stepped through the middle doorway, a cluster of little white stars swirled around the entrance and a distant medley of notes chimed.

  They emerged at the entrance to an enormous footbridge with bamboo slats suspended above a vast river gorge. To the right, an immense waterfall gushed down the face of a mountain with jagged pinnacles. A brilliant rainbow curved from the top of the falls to a large arched doorway cut out of the mountain at the far side of the bridge.

  “We call it the Bridge of Forbidden Love,” Rachel said above the sound of the cascade.

  “What if I fall in?”

  “Don’t.” The waterfall’s roar grew louder. “You must have really liked this girl,” she said.

  “Why’s that?”

  “I got that sense from the storyboard. Okay, let’s go.”

  They moved onto the footbridge, with Rachel prompting him to go first. She spoke up over his shoulder. “A few last things. There’s no Reality Mode when you’re In-World. You’re inside a Fantasy Live simulation. You can’t step out of it until you signal for it to end.”

  “All right.”

  As they walked above
the rushing river, water droplets from the cascade pelted his face. He tasted the spray on his tongue. He felt a gust of wind and his knees almost buckled as the bamboo footbridge rocked from side to side. His heart raced, his hands began to sweat.

  “You’ll be starting off in virtual reality,” Rachel shouted as the roar of the falls became louder. “When you’re ready for augmented reality, hold up two fingers to signal you’re ready for Scene Two.”

  He gripped the support ropes on both sides to steady himself. He knew he wasn’t standing on a rickety suspension bridge a hundred feet above a raging river. But there was nothing movie-like about this. It felt real.

  “Last thing. Remember, this is mostly a visual experience. How tactile you want to get during the augmented session is up to you—the girl is an Opt-In. Don’t expect her to recount old times. Don’t ask specific questions or the entire fantasy may collapse.”

  He understood. This wasn’t a place for second chances or regrets. It sounded more like a vivid dream.

  “Good luck, Andrew. You deserve all that awaits you.”

  “Wait. What?” He turned around. Rachel was gone. The footbridge swung in the breeze and he nearly lost his balance. He gripped the ropes tighter and pulled himself forward.

  After a minute the wind died down, the bridge stopped rocking, and he came to the end. He stood before a dark entrance carved into the mountain. He plunged through the opening.

  He appeared to be floating inside what looked like a colossal palace, a great hall laden with elaborate chandeliers, gold statues, rich carpeting. But there was something wrong. Everything seemed out of scale. It was as if he were a Lilliputian inside a giant Palace of Versailles.

  His movements were no longer under his control. He floated down a grand corridor as if encased in something. He passed by immense oil paintings, colonnades, and several grandly decorated rooms. He slowed as he approached a door that stood ajar. He slipped through the opening. Scores of candles illuminated a large, sumptuous bathroom outfitted with oversize mirrors, tile mosaic on the floor and walls, and a white clawfoot tub.

  In which Cynthia Esposito was taking a bubble bath.

  Alex realized where he was. Inside a bubble. A literal bubble. He floated closer and closer to her until he was hovering just above the tub.

  Cynthia looked every bit as dazzling as he remembered. The high-fidelity realism of her likeness startled him. It was like watching a high-definition film of a movie star, but this was Cynthia. Cynthia, the spitting image of the girl he fell in love with. She had the same soulful brown eyes, the same chocolate hair, the same small ears that poked out a little. She was always self-conscious about that but he thought her ears were cute.

  “Hi, Andrew.” She looked up directly at him.

  He almost toppled over, startled by her voice. “You can see me?”

  “Of course. You’re floating right there.”

  It was like she was a giantess watching a pathetic little peeping Tom creep toward her.

  “Don’t worry, I won’t pop you.” She smiled and inched down to let the water touch her chin.

  Her voice sounded so rich, exactly the same as when they were seventeen. Well, you sent them the tapes, didn’t you? Of course they can reproduce it. The ability to extrapolate hours-long conversations from a recording only a minute long—that tech has been around for years. Still, her lips match her words. They’re doing this in real time. Astonishing!

  “Thanks, Cynthia.” He wasn’t sure what to say. He slipped against the wall of the bubble and found his movements were propelling the bubble in the same direction.

  “Don’t worry, say anything you want. Or just watch. It’s your fantasy. I’m here for you.”

  His heart was melting at the sound of her playful, alluring, slightly throaty voice that once twisted him into knots. No woman had ever again touched his heart in the same way. Was it because Cynthia was so special? Or because they were seventeen and in love for the first time and that kind of magic happens only once?

  He searched his memory frantically to remember if he’d put down anything too weird or kinky for his Cynthia Esposito fantasy. He didn’t think so. He gave the Fantasy Live people several options. But he didn’t put a ton of time into it. He didn’t think they could pull off anything like this.

  “Let me move out of your way,” he said as he watched her swipe a large sponge across her leg.

  “You’re not in my way, Andrew.”

  Floating right on top of her was making him nervous. He tried to navigate the bubble to get a vantage point from the side of the tub, his palms pressing against the soft damp rubbery contours of the bubble. He glimpsed her breasts beneath the soap bubbles, dappled by the candlelight.

  On one level, there wasn’t anything unusual about this kind of fantasy. He’d slept with the real Cynthia Esposito several times when their parents were away. He’d seen her naked in her bedroom and in his bedroom and once during a hike in the woods. But he wasn’t seventeen anymore. And suddenly he realized how inappropriate it was for a twenty-nine-year-old man to be watching a seventeen-year-old girl take a bubble bath.

  “I … I should probably apologize about this fantasy.”

  She laughed. “Oh, silly. It’s okay. Nobody has G-rated fantasies. How boring would that be?”

  That relieved his guilt a bit. And he didn’t need to mention his fantasy girlfriend’s age in his article, did he? He and his editors at Axom would need a boatload of meetings to figure out how to handle this. Could he even quote a seventeen-year-old? Did he need to get permission from the girl’s parents? How old was fantasy Cynthia anyway? And what was the age of consent on Samana Cay?

  “All right, let’s continue,” he said. “Don’t do anything you don’t want to do.”

  That sounded lame, too. She’s a paid actor in a story! Of course everything she’s doing is not what she’d be doing on a Wednesday night! Or at least, he doubted it. But he couldn’t very well pop the pretense and start interviewing her. They were watching.

  That reminded him to survey his surroundings more closely. How were they doing this? This was some kind of set, maybe similar to a Hollywood movie set. Somewhere out of sight they must have outfitted the room with state-of-the-art high-def audiovisual equipment. He reasoned the setup included use of artificial intelligence that had captured Cynthia Esposito’s facial features and body type from the video imagery he’d supplied.

  The challenge would be to convert the girl’s facial expressions and speech patterns in real time via an ultra low-latency communication system and then transmit it to him in a way that was convincing and realistic at close range. All of it done on the sly in the background to preserve the illusion of a fantasy.

  He was familiar enough with AR and VR to know this was a remarkable achievement. He knew about “deepfake videos,” where computers swapped someone’s face onto another person’s body, but this took it to a whole new dimension. The algorithms involved, the cross-platform engine for physics and graphics, the voice cloning software—their set-up must all be staggeringly powerful. Yet they’ve done it, by God. Right down to the timbre of her voice. Right down to her freckles. This isn’t sci-fi. It’s mixed reality. And the world isn’t ready for this yet.

  Cynthia turned her head and peered at him with that lost-fawn look of hers as he hovered astride the tub. “So tell me what you’ve been up to lately, Andrew.”

  “Well, it’s been a long time since we talked. Graduated from Florida State. Work in the tech sector now.” He wanted to be genuine while still maintaining his cover. He was tempted to remove his goggles, but that would shut down the simulation, maybe get him kicked off the island. “I think about you a lot. You still take my breath away.”

  She smiled shyly. “Thanks, Andrew. That’s nice.”

  “I’m seeing someone now. It’s serious.”

  “Oh, good. You deserve the best. And don’t worry, you can say anything here. Your fantasies are safe with me.”

  He was still
gobsmacked by her. She smelled of fresh lavender. This entire simulation was mind-blowing, soul-stirring. He felt a surge of vitality he hadn’t felt since his teenage years. A mixture of amazement, ardor, and impossible longing buzzed through his body. His teen years were no picnic, but Cynthia would be in the highlight reel.

  He took a moment to check himself—his pulse was slightly elevated, his eyes tracked his finger movements. He knew he wasn’t drunk in the slightest. In fact, just the opposite. His senses felt heightened and sharp.

  He thought about how he should play this.

  Alex Wyatt the journalist was paying attention to every detail of this fantasy. Cynthia’s appearance, her voice, the dimples that formed on her cheeks when she smiled—it was all captured with such fidelity that he knew he had a hell of a story here. What kind of Pandora’s Box was Fantasy Live about to unleash on the world? Who wouldn’t want to spend time with their favorite fantasy subjects? What did this portend for modern relationships? How would it disrupt a world where you could compare your spouse or significant other with someone from your idealized, airbrushed past?

  Andrew the millionaire startup founder would have a different reaction. He’d want to play this story out to its logical conclusion. It cut him to the quick that she was calling him Andrew instead of Alex. But he couldn’t tell her. He had to keep in character.

  Alex the ex-boyfriend found himself remembering how moonstruck he’d once been. Originally he thought this experience might be akin to coming across a photo of an old flame on social media. But his feelings in this moment ran much deeper. It was almost as if he’d traveled back to a time in his life when love was pure and boundless. A time when all things seemed possible and heartbreak was something that happened to other people.

  He knew the oxytocin and endorphins were swimming in his head, roiling his emotions. Even so, he was having a hard time resisting the impulse to confess his love for her all over again. Maybe his subconscious was telling him to find the real Cynthia Esposito and meet her for coffee. Maybe she really was meant to be his one true love.