by Wyatt Kane
From the main floor, it looked like a bank of speakers, with one large woofer surrounded by stacks of smaller ones. Ty knew that hidden among the speakers and elsewhere throughout the entire club, there were also strobe lights and laser emitters.
He had seen all this before and had even replaced some of the strobe bulbs when they burned out. But he had never been into the booth itself. It was hallowed ground. A place where magic happened. And while Angie might have trusted Ty with the gaming machines, this was at a different level.
Martin’s booth was the heart of the club. The beats he produced were the lifeblood that kept it all going. In Angie’s mind, it was not the place for someone like Ty.
To her, it was like letting a monkey loose in a room filled with old metal toys. The monkey could play as it wished and there was little risk of real damage. But that monkey would not be allowed to play in a room filled with fine, delicate china.
There were three low steps that led up to the booth. Ty grinned as he climbed them and looked about at Martin’s equipment.
“It’s all top-of-the line gear,” Martin said. “Never had a problem with any of it until now. The turntables–you’d be surprised how many times someone’s managed to spill a drink on them. They just keep on turning. Even the computer screens. The crystal displays are more robust than the holographic ones, which is why I use them. But the mixer is the heart of everything. Without that, all we’ve got is some stacks, a couple of keyboards, and tens of thousands of dollars worth of silence.”
Ty was impressed with the DJ’s set up. Martin kept everything spotless. Everything was in place, the turntables on separate shelves above the main speaker, the screens hidden from the clientele by the speaker stacks, and the keyboards tucked away behind Martin’s chair. He could spin about and access everything within a heartbeat.
In the middle of it all, next to the microphone and headphones, was what could only be the mixer.
Martin had taken the top off, exposing the innards. He was right. It was a mess. Something had blown, maybe a transistor or capacitor. It had been catastrophic on a minor scale. The circuit board itself was charred and covered in soot, and there was the distinct odor of burnt plastic and ozone in the air.
“You don’t have a spare?” Ty asked. He knew the answer before Martin even replied. The DJ was too overtly anxious for such a simple solution.
“Nah, man. There used to be a controller somewhere in storage. You know, one of those all-in-one jobs, with turntables and mixer all set up to go. Baby toy compared to this, but it would have done in a pinch.” Martin shrugged. “It disappeared maybe a year ago. A light-fingered staff member or customer, maybe. I told Angie at the time that we should get a replacement, but here we are. A year later.”
Ty nodded. So much for the easy solution.
For the first time since offering to fix it, Ty wondered if he could. It wouldn’t have been a problem if he had access to the Architect’s fabricator and holographic imager. He would just scan the mixer, blow up the holographic image, and test each component individually. Then he would replace whatever wasn’t working, and that would be that.
But this was the Concubine Club. Not the Architect’s mansion. Ty had access to only the most basic tools. A voltmeter. Screwdrivers. A soldering iron. A few spare parts. And that was about it.
“Can you fix it?” Martin asked.
Ty stared at the mess for some moments. He knew that a certified repair man working under the auspices of the mega-corporation that produced the equipment would simply rip out the motherboard and slot in a spare, typically after waiting a fortnight for the spare to be delivered.
But Ty wasn’t a certified repair man. A week ago, he would have had to resort to prodding about with the voltmeter, peeling back the clear plastic coat and doing his best to isolate the parts that weren’t working. Then, without truly understanding what the various sections did, Ty would have done his best to replicate them with wires and transistors and anything he could cobble together.
Maybe he could have got it to work again. Maybe he couldn’t have. It would have been a complex fix either way, and without a full workshop, Ty just didn’t know.
But that was then, and this was now. And now, with the device on his wrist, Ty had an insight into technology that he’d never had before.
And there was something about this particular failure, this technological burnout, that just didn’t smell right.
He looked at Martin. “When did the warranty for this run out?” he asked.
Martin looked at him blankly. “Uh,” he said, then found an answer. “About three months ago.”
Ty grinned. He’d been expecting an answer like that.
“Typical, isn’t it?” the DJ said. “Damned thing worked like a charm since new. Never had a problem. And now that the warranty is gone, look at it.”
“Yeah.” It was a common enough complaint, and Brad, Ty’s roommate, had always maintained that it was on purpose. It was one of his favorite conspiracy theories. The mega-corporations programmed these failures into their products so that they could charge again for either repairs or replacements.
Brad also suggested that it was why the corporations were so successful, and why more honest companies failed. Which of two competing companies would win out between one that could only sell you a product once and one that could sell you not just the product, but a lifetime of repairs and replacements as well?
Ty wasn’t as suspicious as Brad, but he could see the logic. Yet at the time, he’d offered a counter. “Then how come you can sometimes buy an appliance that lasts for decades?”
“If they programmed the failures into every single product, it would be clear to everyone what’s going on. They’ve probably got some mathematician or other working out just how many programmed failures they can get away with before it becomes too obvious.”
Ty hadn’t wanted to believe him. Yet now, he found himself staring at the proof.
His skill gave him the ability to do what should have been impossible. Like a skilled tracker who understood the hints left by broken branches and disturbed earth, Ty could look at a circuit board and understand what each part of it did.
As far as he could see, the part that had blown had only one purpose: to fail. And to take out a network of critical junctures at the same time, making it difficult to fix.
Ty almost laughed out loud. He doubted that anyone else would have understood the pattern. But to Ty, it was clear. There was no doubt in his mind at all.
It was also clear that he could fix it. The circuit board was reasonably efficient and elegantly designed. Yet to Ty’s perception, there were circuits that didn’t really need to be there. Components that weren’t in an optimal position.
It was tiny and complex, and obviously machine-wrought, yet to Ty, it was like a roadmap. He could see it all clearly enough that it might have had signposts.
He could get the mixer working again. He was sure of it. It would even be fun!
4: Wires And Solder
It took no more than half an hour. Ty was in the zone, focusing all his attention on the ruined circuit board. The rest of the Club faded into the background. Even Martin ceased to have any reality for him. Only the mixer mattered.
In a way, it was like when he cannibalized the toaster and microwave to make a stun gun. His hands had worked automatically, intuitively, without his conscious control. Then, he had spent his time chatting with Brad as he worked.
This time, he found himself humming tunelessly instead. He didn’t focus on what he needed to do so much as on what he needed to solve. And he just let his hands do what was needed.
Slowly but surely, he Frankensteined a solution. The Architect’s fabricator would no doubt have been able to recreate the precise lines of the original circuit board. But Ty wasn’t a machine. He was lucky he could even see the circuitry he was repairing. Several times, he had to resort to peering through a lens to magnify what he was looking at, and he had to hold the soldering
iron very still to ensure he didn’t make any errors.
Fortunately, the soldering iron had a very fine tip.
As he completed each section, he used a heat gun to melt a layer of clear plastic over what he had done to keep it separate from everything else. The air filled with odors of electronic construction, solder, and plastic mixed with the heat from Ty’s soldering iron.
When he was done, the insides of the mixer no longer looked clean and precise. It was a mess, a mixed-up jumble of wires and components all crammed into the smallest of spaces. Ty knew that nobody would have been able to figure out how it all worked. Yet to Ty, it was clear. He looked at the mess and saw elegance. To him, the different parts he had put together appeared to shine. They would do what he wanted and do it more efficiently than the original circuit board had enabled.
All through his life, Ty had been interested in electronics, but had never been truly gifted. Yet he had known a few who were. Not necessarily with tech, but with math. He remembered talking to one of them, a girl in his class who breezed through everything she did.
“How do you know when it’s right?”
The girl’s name was Diane. She had messy hair and teeth that protruded, and she should have been unattractive because of it. Yet she was open and honest and held no pretenses. She was a geek through and through, and, in a weird way, her acceptance of it made her appealing.
“When it’s right, an equation is elegant. I don’t know how to explain it, but it just feels right. It’s like a perfectly balanced teeter board on an apex. The slightest tremor or gust of wind should blow it over, but because it’s perfect, it just stays there.” Diane spoke quickly and accompanied her words with rapid gestures that seemed to hold meaning to her, but to Ty didn’t add anything to her words. “Sometimes an equation will have colors associated with it. It’ll shine, like the sun in the morning. When it’s right, it will be beautiful.”
At the time, Ty hadn’t understood what she meant. To him, equations were no more than lines on the page. He couldn’t see the symmetry, the beauty that Diane was trying to express.
But now, he understood completely. It was like that for him with what he was doing.
Ty put down his soldering iron and just stared at what he had done. He breathed deeply, satisfied on a level he’d seldom known before. He knew without any doubt it would work.
“Let’s crank her up,” he said to Martin.
The DJ looked unconvinced. “You’re done?” he said.
Ty nodded. At the same time, he flipped the mixer’s lid back over and slotted it into place. Then he offered Martin a grin. “Let’s see, shall we?” He stepped back from the system. “It’s all yours. Try it out.”
Still looking uncertain, Martin did as Ty suggested, and started his system.
Screens burst into life right away. The hum of technology filled the air. Martin looked at Ty with an incredulous expression.
“You did it!” he said.
Ty just grinned. “Test it out. Make sure it all works.”
Martin did so. He selected a record from those that lined the back wall above the keyboards and placed it reverently on a turntable, setting the needle in place. At once, the techno sounds of exactly the type of music Ty loathed filled the air, the beat loud enough to echo within Ty’s chest. The screens displayed a number of graphs and electronic settings that reminded Ty of the displays on the Architect’s holographic imager.
Martin caressed the dials and knobs on the mixer with the confidence and surety of a virtuoso and the graphs leapt in response. At the same time, the music changed in ways that were both subtle and profound.
Ty couldn’t help but grin broadly as Martin looked at him with newfound respect. “Man, you are a God-damned miracle worker!” Martin said. “I would have sworn that the mixer was done. Toast. Just so much plastic and metal, destined for the scrapheap. And you just went in there and brought it back to life.”
Ty grinned even more broadly. For much of his adult life, his skills had remained unappreciated. Angie had never thought to compliment him when he fixed a machine. Instead, she derided everything he did, doing her best to convince him that he was worthless.
To have someone overtly appreciate what he did was both refreshing and enjoyable. It was almost enough that, for the moment at least, he could put up with the horrible noise he had helped bring about.
Nor had Martin finished in his praise. “I thought you had signed your own death warrant when you offered to help. I thought you were going to end up being fired.” Martin shook his head as if he still couldn’t believe it and caressed a few of the knobs on the mixer, changing the music again. “Man, you’re wasted in this place. You should be working for one of the manufacturing corps. Or maybe a repair business. I’ve even got a cousin who could use someone like you.”
That caught Ty’s interest. Working as an electronic repair person might not be his absolute ideal, but it was a lot closer than working for Angie. Yet Martin hadn’t finished. He was still waxing lyrical.
“Better yet, maybe you could invent something and license it. Sell it to thousands. You know what people are like these days. Any new gadget and they’re all over it. I bet you could make a fortune!”
It was another good idea. Ty would have to give it some thought, but off the top of his head, he didn’t know what he might invent. Again, Martin tweaked the mixer, changing the nature of the music once more. He pushed his glasses back up his nose and focused on the screens
“So, it’s all good?” Ty asked. “It works the same as before?”
“Too right it does! If I hadn’t seen what you did with my own eyes, I would have sworn it was a new system. It’s perfect!”
Ty was happy with that. “Good,” he said. “Maybe Angie won’t fire me for another day or so.” He said it with a laugh and started packing his tools away.
“I should damn well hope not,” Martin said. Then he looked past Ty to the main entrance. “I guess we’ll find out. There she is now. Looks like the music summoned her.”
Ty didn’t even bother to look. He just continued to pack his tools away so that when Angie arrived, he was all set to go. Only then did he glance up to see that her expression was a mixture of irritation and anger.
Ty wasn’t surprised. Anyone else would have been pleased by his success. But to Angie, it signified a status adjustment that she wasn’t willing to accept. Ty had stepped out of the box she had put him in. Even worse, she couldn’t punish him for leaving before his shift was done.
“He fixed it, then?” Angie said, her words directed at Martin as she glared thunderously at Ty.
“He sure did. Angie, Ty was amazing. The system was dead for all money. I don’t think anyone would have been able to fix it other than him.”
Angie continued to glare as she offered a snort in response. “I bet it was no more than luck.”
“It was a lot more than that,” Martin said, and Ty could tell by his tone that he knew full well what he was doing. He was deliberately lending his voice in Ty’s support. “Angie, Ty has just saved us a whole bunch of cash at the same time as making sure that we’re ready to go. If he hadn’t been here, there would be nothing but silence for entertainment this evening. And there would’ve been nothing I could do about it.”
Angie transferred her glare from Ty to Martin and couldn’t keep the sneer from twisting her lips. “So you say,” she said. “I find it hard to believe that he was able to manage anything useful at all. The system must not have been as badly damaged as you thought.”
At this, Martin visibly bridled. He was about to leap to Ty’s defense, but Angie didn’t give him the chance. “In any event, he still has his normal job to do.” She switched her glance back to Ty. “Your disappearing act last night left a number of tasks undone. You can start by taking out the trash,” she said. “And while you’re out there, clean out the grease traps. It’s been a while since they were done.”
Cleaning the grease traps was the absolute worst job in
the place. But Ty wasn’t surprised. It was Angie’s way to punish successes.
“I cleaned the grease traps just a couple of weeks ago,” he began.
“And they need it again,” Angie said. “Or are you really going to disobey me in this?”
The way she said it, with that combination of relish and disgust, told Ty all he needed to know. His success with the sound system hadn’t secured his position within the club. If anything, it had made it more uncertain.
Ty sighed deeply. “Yes, Angie,” he said.
It was enough. Angie favored him and Martin both with a sneering grin that spoke volumes of her state of mind. “Good. And when you’ve done that, come find me. I’m sure I can find some other jobs more suited to your skill set.”
Ty could see that Martin wanted to say something. He shook his head to silence the DJ, knowing full well that it just wasn’t worth it, and waited while Angie spun her bulky form about and waddled away.
When she had gone, Ty grinned at Martin. “What was that you said about your cousin?” he asked.
5: From Thin Air
The New Lincoln sky was starting to darken behind its usual layer of clouds when Ty lugged the last of the garbage bags into the alley behind the Concubine Club. He and Martin had talked briefly about the DJ’s cousin before Ty left to do as Angie commanded.
Apparently, the cousin ran a successful second-hand tech business specializing in all manner of items. Cybernetic implants of various types. Artificial limbs. Communication devices. Wearable tech of all sorts, as well as an assortment of more traditional appliances.
The business model was to scavenge the discard piles from the mega-corporations, fix up what they could, and sell them on to whomever needed good tech at discounted prices.
To Ty, it sounded like the type of thing he could enjoy, but he stopped short of asking Martin for an introduction. There were too many things happening in his life at that moment already. He didn’t need another to juggle, yet it felt good to have a possible option should he need it.