“Find out who planted that bomb, what else? More than anything, this tells me that I’m getting close, since whoever is behind it is desperate enough to hire lames like the one tied up in the toilet. I am thinking of paying a certain Devin Hurst a visit, to see if he’s more forthcoming afterhours. I was followed when I left there, and I don’t believe in coincidences. Someone there initiated the contract, or moonlights as a bounty hunter, seizing the advantage. Either way, this speeds things up for me, and I have other responsibilities that need tending. I’ve been too loud, thinking that this would be a simple investigation that I could knock out in a week. You thought so too, which is why you asked me to help, but this feels bigger, doesn’t it?”

  “That it does,” Ariana admitted. “Have you had a chance to look at the rack from Ida’s apartment? Maybe that would give us some answers as to who would want her killed.”

  “It’s as I told you, the rack is where I got tipped off about the garage.” Dhata looked around for a seat then plopped down on the faux-leather couch, suddenly exhausted.

  “You’ve gone above and beyond what I needed you to do to get me answers,” Ariana said. “Really, finding that rack is enough, Dhata. I now have motive, and a reason to look in on Paradise. If I make an anonymous drop-off to the FBI, that takes out all the local departments with Paradise members in their ranks. I give them everything you’ve found out, and we get to move on with our lives. Me, busting violent hools and you chasing down variants. How does that sound to you?”

  “Like you’re selling me on something that you yourself don’t believe in. That’s how it sounds. Have a seat, Ari; let’s rap a bit. What’s going on with you? You seem preoccupied.”

  To his surprise, she complied, sinking down across from him, her head rolling backwards to look up at the ceiling.

  “It’s the job. Big surprise, I know, but it’s not easy turning a blind eye to the corruption. I think you ruined me when you took me with you to DC. That was the type of detective work I dreamed about when I was young. Movie stuff. Fighting against a mega-corporation that seems invincible and finding the one tiny chink in its armor to drive in the knife just to watch it bleed out. We saved the country, Dhata, and no one knows it but us and The Unsung,” she said, tucking a loose lock of hair behind an ear and smiling at him with what could be best described as a look of nostalgia.

  “They’re called The Unsung for a reason,” he said, shrugging at her helplessly. “Are you saying that you want to quit and go the skiptracer route? We’ve talked about this so much, and you were always so firm about remaining on the force.”

  “I know, but I need to be realistic,” Ariana said. “When I think of being a detective, I’m still going off the period of time when Jason was alive, and we had partners that wanted to get the job done. The batch that is there now? Well, you saw them. Shiftless, and wanting nothing to do with synth crime. Which is fine, if they would allow those of us who actually give a damn to do something about it.”

  “But they sabotage your cases or throw them out, stating that there are bigger human problems to worry about, don’t they?” Dhata said. “Ari, it’s been the same for well over 20 years. It predates me and Jay, and will continue well after we’re both bones in the ground. Synths aren’t people, they’re machines with souls. Best I got for explanation of how they see them, but the point I want to make is that this isn’t new, so why is it that all of a sudden the way of things is bothering you?”

  “Like I said before, that mission to DC. You opened my eyes to a reality that I never knew existed. We have machines with souls, as you put it, who deserve their own set of rights, the same way we have them. Don’t they? But then with variants, we learned that there are soulless machines, built to replace important humans, as well as to confuse the general world that they are synths. With a plot so major and sinister, how could a detective go back to petty crimes and circular investigations?”

  “You’re with The Unsung, just like I am though, Ari. And like me, you do your day job, until a variant is found, and then we switch gears to locate and take it out. We are working together in our own way to set things right while our governments bumble about. As a detective, you get resources that help me to gain access to files and places that I otherwise wouldn’t have. Don’t you recall our conversations in the hospital?”

  “I do, but wearing the mask daily… Dhata, it’s starting to wear me out,” Ariana said.

  “Sounds like you need a break, but I know how hard that is when you have case files piled up on your desk. Anything Lur and I can do to make it easier?” he said.

  “No. I only told you because you asked, but this is my own mess to figure out. As to this bounty hunter situation and Paradise, I’m sorry I went off the cuff and called to involve you. variants are the job, like you just reminded me, and I have you running all over Florida, chasing synth-hating yahoos. I have the files from the rack, and you’ve updated me with enough to send a package off to my contact in the bureau,” she stood up and adjusted her uniform.

  He hopped up to see her out, trying to imagine a world where she wasn’t a detective, he just couldn’t imagine it. She embraced him warmly, it was so sudden he froze, but wrapped his arms about her and held it.

  “Why don’t you take off, and I will work on charging this hool with something,” she said. “Taking kill contracts from a null terminal is a criminal offense, and despite him going after a dead man, he was still in possession of a rigged and deadly weapon. I’m going to have the team pull feeds from where they came for you. We’ll squeeze him for names, and anything else he’s willing to sell to shorten his sentence.”

  “That’s big, Ari. I didn’t even think about what he’s looking at on the official side of things. Alright, you do that, but hold off on sending that package until I tell you. Paradise is protected, and what we have now is a hired gun who I’m betting barely knows anything about him. Either way, it goes without saying, thanks for helping me clean up this mess.”

  “It’s what partners are for big guy. I may not be Jason, but I do alright, don’t I?”

  “That you do,” Dhata said, wanting to add something more encouraging. He hated when she compared herself to his partner who was long dead. He grabbed his duster but paused at the exit. A thought came to his mind out of nowhere, and he walked back into the bathroom to hover over their captive.

  “That lady out there, she’s a John,” Dhata informed him, “And you’re up on several charges that will stick unless you convince us to let you walk. I’m only asking once, before she takes you in, and they force you to tell on your cowardly friends. You think she’s going to torture you? Ever been on stims? One whiff of the gas and you’ll give up who they want. Not just your boys club but everyone, including your family.”

  “Dee, this isn’t necessary, I will get him to talk,” said Ariana, who walked in to stand next to him, her hand on the small of his back.

  “From the conversation we just had, you don’t need the extra paperwork for this clown. I’m willing to forgive one if he hands me the rest, and work my way back to the source of this ticket on my head,” Dhata said. “What’s it going to be, bird? Does Ariana here cook you up for the state, or will you be flying free tonight once I can validate those names?”

  The man seemed to think it over and then relented, nodding rapidly to show his consent. Switching on his implant to record through his ICLs, Dhata collected the information on the rest of the bounty hunters, including one Dalton Leger, who was their leader. Dalton worked as a bouncer at a local nightclub, where he was always a fixture. So, Dhata decided that he would have a drink that very night.

  “He’s yours to do whatever until I qualify these marks, Ari,” he said. “Once I do, the same applies. He’s yours, but I would prefer that you spring him and tag him as a C.I. Think of him as a gift to your unit, an actual inside man, working bounties outside the law.”

  “Like my own little twisted skiptracer,” she cooed, playing along. “I will take it under consideration, Dhata. And here I was worried about having to explain how all of this just came about.”

  “As to being my partner, I know that I don’t say it enough, but I appreciate you,” Dhata said. “We’ve been through some things together, and I do care about your career. You don’t need to be Jason Dale; you’re a good police officer and a brilliant detective. The Arch Brain knows you, and so does every synth connected to it. Even though your name isn’t printed on some bulletin, it is respected by millions of synths who remember what you’ve done for them.”

  “Thank you, Dhata. Hearing you say those things, it’s nice. You’re still a crotchety old man, so don’t expect me to go all soft, but it feels good to be appreciated, partner. Now get out of here before this one changes his mind and begins to have second thoughts about telling,” she said.

  “Alright Ari, I’ll be in touch, and you be careful with our soon-to-be free, wannabe bounty hunter,” Dhata said.

  He made for the exit while slipping on his hat, and reached back for his revolver out of habit. The hour was late, and he now had another name to interrogate. “Dalton Leger,” he repeated under his breath. “If only you knew what was coming.”

  Chapter 12

  Viva La ViVi

  While the world after the war was a digitally enhanced work in progress, within the worldwide grid there was a much more advanced existence, limited only by the creator’s imagination. The Virtual Village, or ViVi, as it was affectionately called by its citizens, had whole cities and setups for housing, commerce, and black-market trade.

  This virtual empire, while tethered to the real, broken world, had its own economy, laws, and borders, largely due to the cyphers working under the hood. A poor young user with a secondhand rack in the real world could be a wealthy landowner within the ViVi. Lur, having been a user since her teens, had amassed quite a fortune from running odd jobs.

  As a bored daughter of a crime boss, she had dabbled in mischief, playing the role of a thief at first to afford an apartment by the water. Besides thieving, she had tried her hand at assassination, but couldn’t bring herself to maliciously delete a user’s avatar. Eventually she discovered cyphering, loving it so much she pursued it in the real world.

  For well over a decade, the ViVi had been her home away from home. Sometimes a refuge, oftentimes an escape from the mundane. Now it was her secret lair, her bat cave, where she could hack into the worldwide grid without fear of discovery by the Johns.

  In the cypher, Hiroshi, she found a mentor whose tutelage gave her the confidence to tackle challenging jobs. Now she had no need for an apartment, paying some other user rent. She created a replica of her father’s mansion, down to the dungeon and private beach where he used to sit for hours watching the ships.

  The mansion served two purposes for Lur. It was not only her home, but a memorial to her late father, Jose Diaz. She hadn’t shown it to Dhata, fearing that he would try to convince her that it was unhealthy to keep it around, especially when the real mansion was still up and operational in Cuba.

  There were advantages to having the mansion here. Not only was it inaccessible from the ground, but if anyone attempted a fly-over, she had installed a damper above the property. Fly within its vector and you would get teleported out, which was a nicer answer to invasion, than the turrets and missiles that typically came with lairs.

  Defenses aside, she felt safe and in control, with information at her grasp to study and use within the physical world. Today, she left the confines of her miniature kingdom to go downtown, where she could gain access to a terminal for information on available jobs. She sat in a booth outside of a pet store, scrolling past the bounty boards to see if anyone needed a cypher’s help. One of the images caught her eye as she scrolled past the numerous headshots. It was Dhata, and Lur felt her heart sink as she expanded the bounty, hoping beyond hopes that it wasn’t him.

  “Murderer and mechanophile, Dhata Mays wanted dead, with proof by way of holo-recording,” she read.

  “Wanted dead,” Lur repeated the words, still in disbelief that she was seeing it. A part of her hoped it was a ruse, conveniently hacked into this terminal by Hiroshi to give her a bit of a scare. Getting to her feet, she ran back to her motorcycle and rode it home, where she could log off safely without the worry of someone using an exploit to tamper with her avatar.

  When she came to, she was inside of her office, and the light in the room was dim, hinting at the day coming to an end. She had been inside the ViVi for over six hours, and she couldn’t believe it. She quickly fumbled to remove the headset, and then touched her ear while blinking to access her implant, where Dhata’s number was the first on her list of contacts.

  The phone rang several times, worrying her that it would continue without him answering. But then he came on the line, and before she could open her mouth to greet him, he spoke.

  “Hey, Lurita, is everything alright?”

  “Yes, but I have something to tell you,” she responded quickly. “There is a bounty on your head. I saw it in the ViVi just now.”

  “I know about the bounty, beautiful. I’m on my toes, don’t you worry about me. Let me call you back in an hour, alright? I’m tailing a guy.”

  Lur sat there frozen after he hung up. Happy to hear that he was aware, but confused by his casual reaction. He was pursuing someone, which made it a bad time to chat, but he seemed so deliberate with the way he spoke. Was he lying? she wondered, fighting against her instincts wanting to speculate on him being disloyal. He could be tied up inside someone’s basement, she mused. He didn’t sound like himself just now. I need to find out.

  She tried Ariana, unsure of what to expect. Nerves on edge, she got up from her chair. If there was bad news, she wanted to be ready to act on it.

  Ariana’s face hovered in front of her on the virtual feed. “Lur Diaz, this is a surprise,” she said. “What’s up, chica?”

  “I’m good, Ari, just wondering if you know where I can find Dhata. He seems preoccupied with something,” Lur said, watching the feed intently to see if she could recognize where Ariana was.

  “He’s chasing a lead, Lur. Do not tell him I told you, but earlier we learned that there is a bounty on his head. He was ambushed, but he fought back, captured one and we squeezed him for information on the source.”

  “Why didn’t he just ask me?” Lur opined, feeling left out. “I know a whole network of cyphers with the ability to find things like that out. Mierda. Ari, can you call that hotheaded idiot and tell him to stand down? It’s an unnecessary risk, when all I have to do is tap my network.”

  Ariana became excited. “Oh yeah? Go ahead and do your thing, girl. I’ll deliver your message to the hothead. Oh, and before I forget. Thank you for the work you did with that rack.”

  “It was easy, don’t mention it, but please, find a way to stop him before he gets hurt,” Lur said. “You know how he believes he’s a twenty-year-old, with the stunts and the shooting. It drives me mad.”

  “Yeah, Dhata isn’t the best at being an old man, that’s for sure,” Ariana agreed, before adding a “Ciao,” and ending the call abruptly. She too had been acting suspiciously, but Lur put it out of her mind.

  Wishing to get started on finding the fixer, she pulled back on her headset, sat down, and jacked into the Virtual Village. The Null Network was a grid within the grid, secured and maintained by the wealthy upper echelon of the ViVi community.

  The citizenship was made to swear that it was off-limits to any hacks or cyphering that could cause it damage. Every user of the world was made to agree to this rule, or be banned from the network permanently. But there were some who were outlaws that would risk banishment if you offered them the right amount of UCC chips. Lur knew three of these individuals, as well as the amount it would take for them to risk their cyber lives.

  The one she chose to work with was a woman named Molly Merrin. Molly was from the old world, an Army veteran with several tours behind her and a gambling debt that she needed to pay if she wanted to keep her real head. She lived in the south of the ViVi, in the beginners’ camps, where it was perpetual night and high-rises breaking past the digital clouds.

  It was the slummiest of the slums, with no shortage of hools looking to earn a quick buck by robbing marks. Having been a victim on several occasions, Lur opted to bring along a baton, which could go from the length of her forearm to that of a bo-staff, longer than she was tall. She had first seen Hiroshi with it, and had since acquired one for herself.

  Lur’s avatar was a master at self-defense, a reward for being an early adopter of a realm inside the ViVi. Most martial arts experts spent hours training their avatars to acquire the skills, but Lur’s reward was to be promoted to master instantaneously. She had yet to use her deadly unarmed tools, since her normal rounds kept her away from certain neighborhoods.

  Walking confidently, she made it to the Southside, which was a dark contrast to her sunny mansion and neighborhood by the beach. Here, it reminded her of Ybor at nighttime, complete with the shadowy hools and dream merchants trying to peddle their stims. Tight roads and closely built towers, resplendent in graffiti and neon, were this reality. Lur noticed the buildings, like leaning giants, some of which looked abandoned, as if their tenants had needed to leave in a hurry.

  She found Molly’s apartment building and made her way into the lobby, squeezing past several shady characters. The elevators were broken, so she took the stairs, climbing ten flights up to Molly’s floor. Once she finally was inside, the large woman greeted her fondly, hugging her as if they were old friends.

  “What can I do for you, Fabiana?” Molly said, producing a data-pad to start taking notes. Everything about her was neat, from the apartment’s condition to the way she wore her clothes. This was the most “together” criminal Lur had ever seen in a life where criminals were her uncles, family, and friends. Something about that made her know Molly was dangerous, and serious about her job.

 

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