Chapter Eight
Dex was to meet Stella Bish in a trendy section of Marionette City, in an “open air market”. He didn’t really get the concept of open air in a virtual world, but he supposed it was just another place for avatars to meet or try and sell their digital crap. He linked in to the market and set about looking for Bish. He was just on time and didn’t know his way around, so checked the map to see if she was in the area. His map overlay showed her at a bench in the northeast quadrant and he linked over to the area. As his avatar materialized, he recognized her. Once he could move, he walked over to the bench and stood in front of her.
“I’m Andersson Dexter,” he said, touching the brim of his hat.
“Yes, I see that,” Bish said, referring to the setting that shows printed names hovered over each avatar. Dex had that setting turned off usually; he found it more distracting than useful.
“May I?” He indicated the seat next to her on the bench and she nodded. Dex sat and waited a moment. “You knew Reuben Cobalt?”
“Yes,” Bish answered, looking ahead. “He did some work for me.” An avatar for Marionette City, Dex wondered. Was Bish a multi?
“If I might ask, what kind of work was that?”
She turned to face Dex, her left knee very nearly touching his right. “What kind of investigator are you, exactly?” she asked.
“The kind who asks the questions,” he answered, holding her gaze, “not answers them.”
“I see,” she said, turning back to look out over the market. “Have you ever wished that things were different, Mr. Dexter?”
It was a strange question, out of the blue, but Dex figured he should follow her line of thinking, so answered. “Sure. My line of work, all I ever see is things that shouldn’t be the way they are. Of course I’ve wished things were different. Why?”
“I don’t mean changing history, Mr. Dexter, though there’s a place for that, too, in a manner of speaking. No, I mean the little things — how you open your mail, how you get into your apartment, what noise your system makes to wake you in the morning. The little things, Mr. Dexter,” she turned to face him again, “that makes life what it is.”
Dex didn’t know what to say, so he did what he always did in situations like that — he kept his mouth shut. She looked at him intently for a half minute, then sat back. “I’m what you might call an arranger,” she said. “I can arrange for things to be the way you want them to be. It’s perfectly legal, mostly and it just comes with a price. Of course, I need people to make the things my clients desire. That’s where Reuben came in. Such a talent,” she sighed, her gaze taking on a far-away look. “I almost believe that man could do anything — I think if he put his mind to it he could make an entire system mind-activated. He was genius with interfaces. Incredible.”
“You brokered Reuben’s avatar business?” Dex asked.
“Avatars?” Bish said, derisively. “Hardly. He was too good for that kind of gross graphics work. No, I used Reuben for the complex stuff — recreating ancient interfaces for people, making systems respond to neural cues, occasionally circumventing the artificial barriers to a full experience of the ’nets.” She looked at Dex sidelong, as if to check if he was calling Security right now. He wasn’t.
“How long had Reuben been working for you?” he asked.
“About a year,” she answered. “It’s not a full time gig, you know. Just contracts here and there. The money is quite competitive but to be perfectly honest I do believe that he likes — that he liked the challenge more than the compensation.”
Dex wondered. Ivy had never mentioned working for Bish and he was sure that even her swiss cheese natural memory would have retained a second employer. He thanked Bish for her time and stood. She remained seated on the bench, looking up at him through surprisingly thick eyelashes. “Let me give you my card,” she said, her voice low and dripping with sensuality. She pinged his system and as he accepted, her contact information flowed into his database and the image of a small card appeared in his avatar’s hand.
“If there’s ever something you want,” she said, standing up, her avatar nearly touching his, “something special, unique,” she leaned in so that her lips were almost brushing his ear and whispered, “you call me.” She paused and Dex felt his physical body flush. It was a most disconcerting feeling and he was relieved when she linked away, the avatar fading to invisibility before him.
• • •
Dex unfocussed and got up from his chair. He went into the lav and splashed some water on his face. He refilled his glass from the bottle on the table, swirling the content around. He made a note to pick up another bottle on the way home from work the next day. He stretched and sat down again. He had about an hour to kill before his appointment with Tequila Kate. Another man would have taken a three quarter hour hit of SleepingJuice, played a game or hired a hooker. Dex paged over to his video collection and loaded a file.
This time Dex picked a later video, one he’d watched more times that he wished to admit. He watched his younger self help his friend Maksym pack and watched them both drink, Maks getting drunker as the night wore on, Dex remembering how for once it was like drinking water, the numbness he felt keeping him sober. He skipped through the video, stopping at particular songs, or the looks on Maksym’s face, or that one moment as he was refilling their glasses when he nearly said something, nearly asked Maks why, how had things changed, how could he fix it. Dex finished his drink, stopping the image as Maks stood in the doorway, his face inscrutable. Some days Dex liked to imagine it was a look of regret, but this night he just closed his eyes for a moment and ended the file.
• • •
Dex followed the link Tequila Kate had sent him and found himself stuck in between worlds for a moment. The link was not to a bar, café or market as he’d assumed. Rather it was to a privately owned location and his identity was being checked against a guest list of sorts. The process didn’t take a long time, but it was still an uncomfortable experience. Dex successfully linked in and found himself in a small open space with some couches, chairs, even a lecture area. There were a half dozen other avatars there, chatting amongst themselves and Dex could see some video and text screens which were set up as well to accommodate people who were not accessing the area by avatar.
He looked for Tequila Kate and soon discovered that she was the flamboyantly attired avatar with a literally flaming hairdo that swirled above, around and behind her as she moved. He pinged her and she stood to greet him. She moved toward him and they found a pair of seats out of the way of the other people.
“So, you’re an independent investigator,” she said, looking Dex up and down.
“And you’re a multi rights activist,” he countered.
“Well, I’m glad to see we know who we are,” she said, grinning and settled in to the seat. “You’re investigating Reuben Cobalt’s murder.”
“Yes.”
“And you’re calling it a murder?” She arched an eyebrow as she asked the question.
Dex didn’t rise to her bait. “Yes.” He didn’t see any reason to get into a political discussion this early on in the conversation and he figured it was his turn for questions anyway. “How long have you known Reuben?”
“A few years,” she answered. “He became active in the community a few years ago. His first — that’s what we call the person who creates an alternate identity — his first was worried about being outed, which is a real concern for us. There are plenty of people out there who would never refer to the death of a multi as murder. They’d think of it as cleaning up.”
“I’m aware of the, ah, various opinions,” Dex said. “But I’m mostly interested in Reuben. Had he received any threats specifically? Was there anyone who had it in for him personally?”
Kate shook her head. “I don’t know,” she said. “He never mentioned anything like that. When I first got to know him, it was though our support boards. That’s how most of the new p
eople come in — looking for a safe place to talk about their experiences. But Reuben soon grew to be more of a resource. And of course, there was his great gift to the community.” She gestured around her.
“Avatars,” Dex said and Kate nodded.
“When I started, I spent an obscene amount on mine,” she said, “and it was a much more complex process for me to log in than it is now, thanks to Reuben. His program was gold to us.”
“It was a business for him, though, wasn’t it?”
“Sure,” Kate said, “but he didn’t gouge anyone. It was entirely reasonable. In fact, there are plenty of designers out there who ask more than he did and that’s just for the body. What Reuben offered was a chance at a normal life, for the price of a nice outfit.” She fixed Dex with a steely gaze. “He was a champion in this community.”
“Anyone disagree with that assessment?” Dex asked.
“Well,” she said, “you’d have to assume that those people who are trying to root us out of society weren’t going to be in love with anyone who was making it easier for multis to fit in.”
“How would they know?” Dex asked. “Your community is closed and moderated.”
“You got in,” she said, “didn’t you?” Dex smiled ruefully. “We have security measures,” she continued, “but nothing is foolproof. We get our share of griefers and worse. Let me introduce you to someone.” She stood and walked over to the main group. She came back with a nondescript fellow, who introduced himself as Jacob Sherman.
“Jacob is our security guy,” Kate said, with a grin. “His first is, ah, in your line of work, I think.” She smiled at the two men, then turned. “I’ll let you two talk shop for awhile. Later.” She walked back to the main group and Dex turned to face Sherman.
“This is kind of weird for me,” Sherman said, refusing to meet Dex’s gaze. “Would you be okay with linking over to Monte’s?” Dex was taken aback at the suggestion, but agreed. He linked over and as the bar materialized around him, he wondered what was up with the change of scenery. He made a bee line for his usual table to wait for Sherman, when he caught sight of Jay Shiraishi materializing. Shiraishi had been on the goon squad with Dex when he’d started and was looking to be a lifer on the squad. He was in line to lead the team after Pat Malone moved on.
Dex waved and was about to let his old buddy know that he was on the job when Shiraishi pinged him, saying, “Thanks for coming. I figured it would be easier to talk, here,” he gestured at the bar, then at his own avatar, “like this.”
Self Made Page 8