Active Memory

by Dan Wells

It occurred to her that the chop shop boys could probably do the same. She swallowed nervously, and thought about happier things.

  Because of the stairwell walls, they didn’t get a real sense of the height until they stepped out on the ninth floor and caught their first glimpse of the city: the sky still barely lit by sunlight, but the early evening dark enough that most of the lights were on. Los Angeles stretched for hundreds of miles in every direction, having swallowed city after city into a single massive metropolitan area. Even the ocean held rows of metal wharves and docks and fueling stations stretching far out from the shore. The city covered the hills and valleys like an endless carpet of concrete and palm trees; ten-story buildings like this one were an anomaly, and aside from the occasional downtown center or business park, most of the city was only a few stories tall.

  “I love this view,” said Marisa.

  “Looks like the view from my house,” said Anja.

  Bao winked. “And we didn’t even pay a couple million yuan to get it.”

  “Only a couple?” asked Anja, raising her eyebrow in mock offense. “How poor do you think we are?”

  “This staircase is a perfect bottleneck,” said Sahara, focusing them back on the job. “Is this the only one?”

  “There’s another on the far side,” said Chuy, gesturing to the other end of the hotel.

  Sahara looked around the space. Most of it was flat and open, with only a forest of half-completed water pipes to mark where the hotel’s rooms were supposed to be. A scattering of furniture and trash showed that La Sesenta hadn’t taken everything when they’d left. The three elevator shafts had been roped off—two for guests, and a wider one for service and laundry—and next to the service elevator stood a finished room with concrete walls. “What’s that?”

  “Laundry room, I think,” said Chuy. “Some kind of service room, at least. Memo used to use it as his headquarters.”

  “Then that’s what we’ll use it for again,” said Sahara. She nodded at Anja, who smiled and pulled the blood-crusted djinni from its plastic container. “We’ll scatter the nulis around the outside and put the djinni in there. When they come for it, no matter which staircase they use, they’ll group up here and the nulis can zap them.”

  “I don’t want to be trapped in that room if something goes wrong,” said Bao.

  “Amen,” said Chuy.

  “We don’t have to be anywhere near that room,” said Sahara. “The nulis all have cameras—we’ll go one floor up, wait to see what happens, and watch the whole thing in safety and high-def.”

  “And if they have rail guns like Chuy?” asked Marisa.

  Sahara winced. “Good point. Maybe we’ll go up two floors, and wait on the roof.”

  They opened the carrying case and pulled out the nulis—one keyed to each ID tag they’d identified at the dance club, and four more with tasers that they could pilot remotely, just in case. They came online with an almost inaudible hum of tiny rotors, and Sahara guided them to hiding places in piles of garbage, or perched on the ceiling. Anja placed Memo’s djinni in the exact center of the service room, sitting on a table, so that anyone tracking the signal would have no doubts about where it was, and then with a set of long, needle-thin tools, she turned it on.

  “It’s connecting to the net,” said Anja. “I don’t know how long it’ll take for the Braydons to find the tag and come after it, but they can now.”

  “Time to go upstairs and wait,” said Sahara. “We’ll split into groups to watch the top of each staircase: Anja with me on the north side, Mari and Chuy on the south.”

  “What about me?” asked Bao.

  “You’re—” Sahara stopped mid-sentence, her mouth hanging open, then shook her head and laughed. “Holy crap. You’re the Jungler.”

  “What?” asked Chuy.

  “I just now realized that I’ve been planning this whole thing like an Overworld match,” said Sahara. “Me as General with Anja supporting, Chuy as Sniper with Mari supporting, and Bao running around on his own.” She looked at Bao. “I didn’t make a plan for you because I never make one for Fang.”

  “Awesome,” said Anja.

  “This is not a game,” said Chuy.

  “I know that,” said Sahara. “I know that, I just . . . I just fell into the pattern. Bao, you stay with me and Anja.”

  “You know, it’s not a bad idea to keep me separate,” said Bao. “I’ll go a few floors down, buy some pho, and hang out in a corner somewhere. I don’t have a djinni, and they’ve never seen me with you. If the nulis take care of everything, we’re good, and if they don’t, I can flank them.”

  “That sounds dangerous,” said Marisa.

  “If the nulis don’t work we’re boned anyway,” said Bao. “Better to have someone they’re not expecting with an attack angle they’re not planning on, right?”

  “He’s right,” said Anja. “And also this is awesome. I want to use call signs.”

  “This is not a game,” said Chuy again. “They could kill us.”

  “That’s just how Anja is,” said Marisa, pulling on his arm. “Look, the plan hasn’t changed, we’re just . . . doing it the way we know how, right? We’re good at this.”

  “You don’t come back to life in this version,” said Chuy. “Take it seriously, because I guarantee they are.”

  “We are,” said Sahara. “The plan is sound—now go to your places and wait. We might have hours or we might have just a couple of minutes. And, um, take a taser nuli with you, just in case.”

  “Come on,” said Marisa again, pulling Chuy toward the south stairs. She blinked to find their web of nulis, and told one of the tasers to follow her. Bao waved and went downstairs, and Sahara and Anja went up. One of the little taser nulis followed them as well.

  “I don’t like this,” said Chuy, picking his way across the abandoned floor.

  “Did you like it before?” asked Marisa.

  “No.”

  “Then nothing’s changed,” she told him. “Relax. Ninety-five percent chance the nulis do everything without us lifting a finger anyway.”

  “That’s one chance out of twenty that we get murdered by a chop shop,” said Chuy. “I don’t like those odds.”

  A message popped up in Marisa’s djinni: a group message from Anja. Chuy’s call sign is Baconator. Bao can make up his own.

  You’re lucky Chuy’s not reading this, Marisa sent back. The man is Not Amused.

  Why does he get to be Baconator? asked Bao. His responses were slower than the girls’, because he was typing them into a phone instead of thinking them into a djinni. My name is literally three of the first four letters in the word bacon.

  Because bacon is chewy, sent Anja.

  Bacon is crispy, sent Sahara.

  My letters are even in the right order, sent Bao.

  Only overcooked bacon is crispy, sent Anja. The good stuff is chewy.

  What kind of monster prefers chewy bacon to crispy bacon? asked Sahara.

  Now I’m even happier that Chuy’s not reading this, sent Marisa. He’d shoot you himself.

  I want my call sign to be Smug Bastard, sent Bao. Ask me why.

  No, sent Sahara.

  Why? asked Anja.

  Because you’re stuck on the roof, sent Bao, and I just bought pho from a food cart.

  No fair, sent Marisa. Home court advantage.

  I’ve got my sisters with me, too, said Bao. If anyone comes up either staircase, we’ll see them.

  Say hi for me, sent Marisa. She didn’t see Jin and Jun very often, but she’d always liked them. And whatever you do, do not approach these guys. At all.

  Playtime’s over, sent Sahara. Time for silent waiting.

  Yes, Mother, sent Anja.

  Marisa couldn’t see them from her side of the roof, but she imagined Sahara punching Anja in the arm, and laughed.

  “What?” asked Chuy.

  “Tell you later, Baconator,” said Marisa. She set the nuli to wait in a shadowed corner of the stairwell, and
pulled out her taser. “Now we just . . . aim our guns at this doorway and wait?”

  “Pretty much,” said Chuy, and pulled her toward a discarded crate and a pair of chairs. “But let’s do it from cover.”

  They lay on their stomachs, guns trained on the doorway, and waited.

  The first Braydon showed up almost two hours later.

  I take it all back, sent Anja. This is the most boring game of Overworld ever.

  Quiet, sent Sahara. We’ve got one.

  Marisa blinked into the web of modified camera nulis, and watched as a man’s face peered out from one of the stairways. That’s south, she sent, and a shiver of fear ran through her. He was one of the chop shop boys, and he was barely thirty feet away from her. Even with two concrete floors between them, it freaked her out.

  “Stay calm,” whispered Chuy.

  “They’re here,” Marisa whispered back.

  Chuy nodded, and adjusted his grip on his gun.

  Two more, sent Bao. No, three. Four total, two per stairwell. They’re being cautious and trying to blend in.

  The man visible on camera pulled a large gun from his jacket, some kind of submachine gun that Marisa could recognize but not identify. He pointed it out of the stairwell door, scanning the room carefully before stepping out and beckoning to someone behind him.

  Everyone stay quiet, sent Sahara. Let them take the bait.

  “Four men,” Marisa whispered to Chuy.

  “You’re shaking,” whispered Chuy, and put a hand on hers.

  “I can’t imagine why.”

  “Your plan is good,” Chuy whispered. “Take your finger off the trigger.”

  Marisa realized that she was almost squeezing the stun gun’s trigger, and eased off, moving her finger to the side of the weapon. “Thanks.”

  I see two more, sent Sahara. And there’s the fourth. They’re converging on the service room.

  No one’s following them, sent Bao. Or if they are, they’re playing it cool as ice down here in the tent city. I’m pretty sure we’d recognize anyone out of place, but . . . maybe not?

  So they may or may not have secret backup, sent Anja. I am getting so turned on right now.

  Quiet, sent Sahara. They’re moving in.

  Marisa watched through her djinni, blinking back and forth between various nulis as different ones gained a better view.

  The nulis are go, sent Sahara.

  Anja sent a series of messages: Activating seeker droids in three.

  Two.

  One.

  The video feeds swirled abruptly as four of the nulis jumped up, flew through the air, and made a beeline for their targets’ heads. Marisa held her breath, watching the other feeds, as each of the four men collapsed to the ground when the tasers hit them.

  It was over in less than a heartbeat.

  Holy what? sent Sahara.

  “Did it work?” whispered Chuy.

  “I . . . think so?” said Marisa.

  That was the greatest thing I’ve ever seen, sent Anja. General: I request permission to strike a superstar pose. And to shout “Superstar!” at the top of my lungs.

  Denied, sent Sahara. Bao, any reaction from hidden backup?

  Nothing, sent Bao. Did this really just work?

  Don’t sound so surprised, sent Sahara.

  Anja’s voice echoed across the roof. “Superstar!”

  “Let’s get down there,” said Chuy, climbing to his feet. Marisa followed, stun gun up, and sent the nuli ahead to look for traps or ambushes. It found nothing, and she sent it down two more floors. There was a shape silhouetted in the seventh-floor doorway, but as the camera flew in close she could see that it was only Jun. Or Jin? They were identical twins who went out of their way to look as similar as possible, and on a grainy camera of a mini-nuli she couldn’t spot any of the usual giveaways. The girl looked into the nuli’s camera and shrugged; there was no one else. Marisa left the nuli perched in the corner, watching for movement.

  Why would they come without backup? sent Sahara.

  Chuy and Marisa reached the ninth floor and peered out carefully; Marisa had a quick flashback to watching the chop shop guy peek out of the same door in the same way, and shivered at the similarity. She saw nothing, and blinked to activate her nightvision mod—it wasn’t military grade or anything, just a cheap app she’d picked up, but it lit up the ninth floor in soft greens that made it easier to see in the post-sunset gloom. Still nothing. She followed Chuy forward, picking their way through the pipes and rubble, and met Sahara and Anja near the door of the service room. The four Braydons were still on the floor, unmoving.

  “Nothing,” said Marisa.

  “Nothing,” Sahara agreed, shrugging. “Guess we lucked out.”

  “Start dragging them in here,” said Chuy, and leaned down to grab one of the men by the wrists. He pulled him into the service room, propped him in a metal chair, and patted him down for weapons: he had a handgun, a plasteel syringe, and two wicked-looking combat knives. He placed them on the table next to Memo’s djinni and then starting strapping the man to the chair with zip ties. Anja and Sahara got to work on the others, while Marisa followed Chuy and helped tie the first man to the chair.

  Whoa, sent Bao. Did you see that?

  Marisa jerked up. See what?

  Something moved, he sent. Camera six.

  I didn’t see anything, sent Anja.

  Who got past you? sent Sahara.

  No one did, sent Bao. With me and Jin and Jun, we’ve got both stairwells completely under surveillance. Nobody’s gone up.

  Maybe it was a bird, sent Marisa, though all she could think about was Zenaida’s ghost, running through the walls.

  Bao denied it almost instantly. Whatever I saw was bigger than a bird. I’m coming up there.

  Chuy slapped the Braydon’s face, then pulled a black bag down over it to cover his eyes. He looked up, saw Marisa’s face, and immediately put his hand to the rail gun pistol on his hip. “What’s wrong?”

  “Bao thinks he saw something,” said Marisa. “There was a shadow on one of the cameras.”

  “What do you think it is?” shouted Sahara, dragging a second Braydon into the room.

  “Probably another squatter,” said Chuy, standing up. “We didn’t see anyone when we got here, but this is a big floor, and La Sesenta hasn’t been here to throw people out in over a week. Someone moved in.”

  “That makes sense,” said Marisa, nodding her head. As long as it wasn’t a ghost, she was happy.

  “We’ll check it out,” said Sahara, leaning the second Braydon against the wall. She pointed at the first Braydon. “Slap him awake so we can interrogate him and get out of here.”

  “I’ll check it out,” said Chuy. He handed Sahara the rest of the zip ties and then pulled out his handgun. “Get these fulanos tied up before they come to.” He strode out of the service room, and Marisa looked at Sahara, sharing an uncertain glance.

  “Probably just another squatter,” said Sahara.

  Marisa nodded. “Yeah.” She shook the man in the chair again, trying to wake him.

  Sahara put a bag over the second Braydon’s head and started tying his wrists and ankles.

  “Never,” the Braydon in the chair mumbled. He was slowly coming to.

  Eight, sent Bao. There it was again, on eight, did you see it?

  Marisa remembered the image of Zenaida’s ghost, burned into her brain, and gripped the mumbling man’s arm for support. She remembered just as quickly that he was a chop shop murderer, and backed away as far as the djinni cable could reach.

  “Who’s out there?” shouted Anja. Her voice echoed in from beyond the service room door, half open in the darkness. “We come in peace. Take me to your leader.”

  “Never get me,” muttered the Braydon in the chair.

  Marisa gritted her teeth, feeling her heart pounding in her chest. Was Zenaida back?

  What could a ghost do to a person, anyway?

  Suddenly she remembered that Ba
o had said he was coming upstairs. Shouldn’t he have been here by now? Bao? she sent. Did you come upstairs?

  She waited for his answer.

  And waited.

  “You got the rest,” muttered the Braydon, “but you’ll never get me.”

  “Damn it,” said Sahara, looking up at the door. “Where is he?” She glanced at Marisa again, sickly and pale in Marisa’s green nightvision. She pulled out her stun gun. “Bao!”

  “I didn’t see him,” said Anja, pulling the third Braydon into the service room. He groaned as she dropped him on the cement floor. “I don’t like this.”

  “He might just not be answering,” said Marisa. “He’s on a phone, not a djinni, so anytime he uses the screen it glows. If he’s trying to sneak around, he might be ignoring us to stay hidden.”

  “Everybody stay calm,” said Sahara. “We’re down one Jungler—that’s nothing we haven’t dealt with before—”

  “That’s Bao,” snapped Marisa, “and this is real.”

  “And staying calm is priority one,” said Sahara forcefully. “We have to think: whoever’s out there knows where we are, so we either move or we defend. We can’t move, so we defend.”

  “Chuy’s alone,” said Marisa. “I’m his support—I need to go help him.”

  “You need to wake up this blowhole and get the info we need,” said Sahara. She tapped her temple and blinked, her eyes unfocusing as she looked at her djinni display. “I’ve got six nulis to help support Chuy. Nightvision engaged. Anja, get the last man and tie everyone up.”

  “On it,” said Anja, and slipped back outside.

  Marisa looked at the man in the chair, who was slowly starting to twitch his head. She ran to the third Braydon, covered his head, and started tying him up.

  “Hey,” said the Braydon in the chair. His voice was slurred, and muffled by the bag. “Where am I?”

  Marisa stood and faced him. “Who’s your backup?” she asked. “Who’s with you?”

  “No backup,” the Braydon muttered. He was awake but still groggy. “Just four of us left.”

  “I can’t find Chuy,” said Sahara.

  Marisa glanced at her, sitting cross-legged behind the room’s one table. She looked like she was meditating as she focused on driving the drones. “What do you mean you can’t find him?”