14 – Verdant Mile

  Tony’s first order of business was to find a place where he could crash—a place even Eric wouldn’t come looking for him. As he rode away from Azalea’s in the AutoCab, he had Nora plot him several stops in parking garages where he’d swap cabs. He wasn’t sure if he was being overly paranoid, but he had a feeling Eric would have had a Cross drone watching Azalea’s place within minutes of her contacting him. He’d definitely seen the vehicle Tony left in.

  As the minutes and city blocks passed by, he tried to think of a place to go. It was evident from his experience with Azalea that he couldn’t count on any of his old contacts to cover for him. No, he was a solo again—like before he’d met Eric. Some stark differences marred the experience, though: he wasn’t a teenager, and he was in ’Hattan, where legends walked and people who stepped out of their lane had a tendency to disappear.

  After three cab changes and several heavily trafficked tunnels, Tony was finally feeling confident he’d slipped anyone trying to keep tabs on him. Just to be sure, he ditched his fourth cab inside a parking garage, ordered another bound for the far side of the district, and then, hands in his pockets and head tucked low inside the high collar of his coat, merged with a cluster of late-night partiers and walked away.

  He was about a mile from the old park district. There was still a park there, but Tony knew it had once been larger. Over the decades, arcologies had devoured whole city blocks in ’Hattan, especially during the reconstruction after the Second AI War. At first, their upper levels merely overhung the park, their footprints narrow. Over time—helped along by corrupt politicians lining their pockets with corporate bits—more and more of the actual ground had been carved away.

  Even so, hundreds of hotels and hostels clung to the layered megastructures above the park, and Tony knew he could vanish among the teeming masses on the higher levels. He walked for a while, then spotted a stand of CityWhips—rentable electric bikes. Tucking his duffel under his arm, he hopped onto one and glided into the thin, neon-tinged traffic of early morning.

  When he reached the first of the massive arcologies bordering the park, he merged out of the already heavy traffic toward a rental stand and put his bike into one of the slots. Glancing at his AUI, he saw the little ride had cost him seventeen bits.

  The arcology he’d stopped at was called the Verdant Mile Complex—a nod to the park on the other side of the gigantic structure. It was a multi-use structure with levels dedicated to apartments, business offices, merchant shops, and just about anything else you could imagine.

  “Nora, give me a directory of hotels in this building,” Tony said as he pushed his way through the crowd toward the row of rotating doors—ten that he could see—that would allow entry into the structure.

  “I have a list, Tony, but the building AI is broadcasting a requirement: we have to give it an open port. It says it will install an anonymous tracker that will self-delete upon exit.”

  “Yeah, it’s pretty standard around here. You’ll be able to see it wall itself off; it won’t mess with any of my data.”

  “I don’t like it.”

  Tony laughed. “Me neither, Nora. Me neither.” As he approached the doors, a new icon appeared on his AUI—a green V—indicating that the tracker was installed. As soon as he walked through the rotating door, it asserted one of its primary purposes by flashing a message on his AUI: Guest 44A, combat-oriented devices have been detected on your person. Please proceed to the security kiosk for clearance.

  “You see, Nora? Anonymous, but under their thumb. It’s not great, but it could be worse.” Tony pushed his way through the crowd, scanning the park-like lobby for the security kiosk. He needn’t have strained himself; there was a blinking “S” on his mini-map, no doubt provided to Nora by the building AI.

  Synth trees filled planters, high, faux windows provided believable daylight, and the voices of thousands of pedestrians walking to, fro, in, and out of the building, created an echoing murmur that did a lot to give Tony a sense of anonymity. “The invisibility of a crowd,” he said, smiling. There was something different about a ’Hattan crowd. People didn’t make eye contact. People didn’t want to be bothered. People knew better than to notice strangers.

  The security “kiosk” was really a row of windows in a tall, gray plasteel wall with queues managed by illuminated floor tiles. Tony followed the green arrows toward a bright square, demarcated by flashing yellow lines, even as the building AI sent his AUI another message: Guest 44A, please stand still as you are thoroughly scanned. A representative will see you shortly.

  Tony stood still, waiting as an arm-mounted scanner array extended over him. The queue was crowded, and people on the green-lit path jostled him as they passed, but it didn’t seem to matter. The scanner array beeped and pulled away, and, before long, his AUI flashed: Proceed to window 11. Tony looked at the wall of windows, saw one that pulsed faintly green in his AUI, and walked toward it.

  A young woman in a gray jumper stood there, her eyes focused on something Tony couldn’t see. He stood before her window for several seconds, and when she failed to acknowledge him, he cleared his throat and leaned on the sill of her window. “This window 11?”

  Her white-painted lips turned down in a frown, and she tapped the little numeral 11 inset into the plastic of her counter. “You know it is.”

  “Just trying to get things moving along…”

  She arched a sharply angled brow, and her purple and gold speckled irises twinkled as they focused on his face. After a pause, she let her frown fall away and said, “You were flagged for your cyberware as well as the items you’re carrying. Looks like you’ve got a couple of compact, deployable weapons in your bag. I need to verify your licensure if you want to stay in the building.”

  “I’ll forward my SOA license.”

  “SOA, huh?” Tiny lights danced in her eyes, letting anyone observing her know she was focused on her AUI. “Ah, got it. Yep, weapons clearance is good. Just remember, we’ve got our watchdog on you, so…” She shrugged. “Keep the violence limited to self-defense or legit warrants. No collateral damage unless you want to deal with Brannity Corp.”

  Brannity Corp was the largest real-estate holding company in the metro area, and Tony most definitely did not want to “deal” with them. “Yeah, rather not. So, I’m clear?”

  “You’re clear. Happy hunting.” She winked at him, and this time her lips curled upward.

  Tony smiled, tapped the counter a couple of times, then turned and walked away. She’d assumed he was there on a job, and considering they were in New Manhattan, and he looked like he’d just come off the streets of the Blast, he supposed that was fair. Still, it wasn’t like there weren’t all types in District One, but this close to the park, he was definitely underdressed for a resident. “Guide me to one of the hotels, Nora. Nothing too fancy.”

  “Will do. Shall I route you past a well-rated cyberware clinic?”

  “For?”

  “The modifications you took from your…former friend.”

  Tony snorted—Nora’s personality algorithm was really coming along. “I don’t need a clinic. They’re meant to go into the arm itself. I’d probably get cheaper help from a mod-tech. I mean someone normal, not some boutique special princess like Azalea.”

  “Got it.” Tony’s mini-map flashed, and he saw a walking path populate the building’s corridors and stairways. He started walking.

  This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

  Nora’s route took him down crowded thoroughfares, up moving stairs and elevators, and past several large market areas. Inside the depths of the megastructure, the mood changed drastically from area to area, influenced heavily by the lighting, flora, and lack thereof.

  Some areas, like most of the markets, were bright and seemed to have open sky above, with sunlight shining down through clear glass panes. They were crystal-glass displays, of course, but it was an effective illusion. A park he walked past had real-seeming synth-grass, cloudy skies, and an artificial breeze that seemed real enough to have Tony tucking his chin into his coat’s collar.

  He knew from experience that living in a place like that wasn’t half-bad, but that was the corporate illusion. They knew exactly how far they had to dial a person’s emotions and “life-satisfaction” to keep them right where they wanted them: productive and heavily bound to their corp. Even though the building wasn’t technically a corpo housing arcology, a considerable percentage of the people who lived in it would be corporate employees; their companies just weren’t big enough to own their own arcology.

  The mod-tech shop Nora took him to was called “Wizzie’s” and featured a neon-lit wizard with a blinking wand on the sign. As he approached, the door slid open, and he stepped into a cluttered little storefront dominated by display cases containing cybernetic equipment of all shapes and sizes. Tony didn’t see a sales counter, but a kiosk at the back of the shop beeped, flashed with a magenta star, and a disembodied voice said, “Welcome in. How can Wizzie help you today?”

  Tony walked toward the flashing kiosk. “You’re Wizzie?”

  “I’m his shop AI.”

  “Oh, right.” Tony pulled his sleeve up, displaying his glossy red arm. “Need some mods installed into this arm.” With his other hand, he hefted his duffel bag. “Got the mods already.”

  “Oh, excellent. One moment, and Wizzie will make a personal appearance.”

  “Thanks.” Tony walked over to one of the display cases. He’d seen a manufacturer’s name that caught his eye: Aurora Tech. It was the maker of his good eye, but when he looked into the case, he saw the eyes on display didn’t match his. His was their PrismSight model, and the ones in the case were something called SpectraCore. He supposed it didn’t matter; he couldn’t afford them. Even as he read the little sales blurb, the price appeared on his AUI: 225,000 Sol-bits.

  “Interested in some new eyes?” A high-pitched, wheezing voice asked from behind him.

  Tony turned to see a small, white-haired man with a protruding belly that stretched the fabric of his brown and blue jumper, standing beside the AI kiosk. “Nah, just browsing.”

  The man peered at Tony’s eyes, his focus moving left to right as he nodded. “What a pair you’ve got there, sir! I’ve never seen such incongruity.”

  Tony chuckled and shrugged. “Life’s funny that way.”

  “I’m Wizzie, by the way. I understand you need some mods installed?” He absently tapped his belly with his palm as he spoke.

  Tony stepped forward and held out his hand. “Tony, and yeah.”

  Wizzie shook his hand softly and briefly. “Well, come on back to my workshop. Mind you, the AI is equipped with auto-turrets in both rooms, so please don’t think about robbing the place. The scrubber bots were finding bits of the last fellow who tried for weeks.”

  “I figured you’d have good security. Spendy pieces on display.”

  “Spendy, yes, but well insured, and, as discussed, guarded.” He pushed open a flapping door and held it for Tony. “After you, sir.”

  Tony walked through into a small, busy space lined with racks and tools, featuring a single, extended workbench at its center. It was bar-height with stools on either side, so Tony got the feeling that Wizzie either worked with partners or had customers go back to the workshop often. He watched as the mod-tech let the door swing shut, then walked over to the bench.

  “Take off that coat and let me have a look. Your arm has universal mod slots, or do I need to mod it?”

  “Pretty sure it has two universal slots.” Tony shrugged out of his coat, set it and his bag on one of the stools, and then sat down beside it, laying his arm on the workbench.

  “Hmm, turn it so your palm’s flat down,” Wizzie said, his voice high, but also sort of muted, like he didn’t quite have enough wind to push it all the way past his vocal cords. He tapped his index finger on the bench, and a tiny, blade-like tool snapped out of the tip. “Hold still, now.” Tony felt the little tool probing along his forearm’s casing. “That’s it. Hmm, tricky one.”

  “Anything I need to do?” Tony asked.

  “Nope.” The strange little mod-tech tapped his other hand on the counter, two tools sprouted from as many fingertips, and then he delicately tapped along Tony’s arm until, with a snick, the alloy, polymer-coated cover plate separated from the whole. “Got it!”

  Tony watched as he pulled the plate away, revealing the innards of Tony’s arm—the lower half, at least. It was crammed full of rods and hard-shelled component covers. Wizzie immediately started unscrewing one of the covers, and when he set it aside, Tony saw a rectangular void with openings going in either direction—up and down his arm. “That’s a mod slot?”

  “Yes, it is. Yes, it is. And this”—he started unscrewing another cover—“will be the second one.” After he removed the cover, exposing the slot, he picked up the arm plate and looked at both sides of it. “Easy enough to mod this material. I have what I need to touch up the coating—it’s self-repairing, so I’ll just give it a fresh bug infusion.” He nodded at Tony’s bag. “Let’s see the mods.”

  Tony opened the bag and set the two objects he’d taken from Azalea on the table. Wizzie picked up the black and gold rectangle. Turning it this way and that. After a moment, he opened a drawer and took out a visor, which he put on, then studied the device again. “This is nice work. Honestly, it’s one of the best-made mods I’ve ever seen.”

  “Yeah, my friend’s pretty talented.”

  “A kinetic amplifier this compact must have cost you a fortune.”

  Tony smiled, nodding, further convinced that Azalea had just been stalling. She’d never meant to give him that mod. “Think it will work well?”

  “Oh, it looks fully functional to me. You’ll need to be careful about your batts, however. I wouldn’t fire it off more than once, maybe twice, an hour… unless you have a secondary batt pack somewhere?” He gave Tony another look, shifting his gaze up and down his body.

  “Nah, I don’t. So, really? Just one punch an hour?”

  “You’ve got to give your bio-batts a chance to recharge; otherwise, that arm’s gonna be a very expensive paperweight. Probably not something you want to happen if you’re in a situation where you’re trying to hit things.”

  “All right—”

  “Also,” Wizzie wheezed, “I wouldn’t try to punch anything that’s harder than the plating on your knuckles, cause this thing is gonna really pack a wallop.”

  Tony nodded. “Noted.”

  Wizzie set the mod down and picked up the other. “Oho!” He whistled softly, tapping the side of his visor as he scanned it. “A needler! Dual mags and barrels, too.” He tilted the mod so Tony could see the two tiny holes in the dense metal. “Nice design. I’ve seen dual mags—allows multiple types of needles—but this barrel and the two chambers allow you to fire either payload without clearing the chamber, as you would with more common mods. Another expensive piece.”

  He set it down, then walked around the workbench, where he began collecting tools and parts. Tony cleared his throat. “So you can install ’em?”

  “Oh, easy! Universal mods into universal slots. I need to mod the plate for the barrel, and I need to tie the kinetic amplifier into the struts, but it’s nothing much. I’ll do it for two hundred.”

  Tony opened his mouth to object, assuming the man meant thousands, but then he reconsidered and said, “Only two hundred?”

  Wizzie shrugged. “It’s a ten-minute job.”

  “Appreciate it.”

  “Honesty earns repeat customers, my good sir.” He pushed his collection of tools, solder, wire, screws, and other things Tony didn’t recognize across the workbench, then walked around it, sat down, and got to work.

  “Since you seem to be an honest guy, think you could recommend a gun shop in the building?”

  “Hmm. I’m not much of a pistoleer, but I’ve got clients who rave about Split Sightz—with a ‘z’ on the end.”

  “I have it, Tony,” Nora announced.

  “Perfect, thank you.” While the Doctor worked and Tony struggled to hold his arm still, he subvocalized, “Make me a new route, one to take me by the gun store, then a Dust dispensary, and then to the hotel. I wanna be ready in case Eric manages to track me down.”

  “Will do,” Nora replied.

  “Wizzie, this chrome eye, the, uh, literal chrome-looking one…”

  “Yes, that’s an old industrial model, but quite robust in its own way.”

  “Well, yeah, it works pretty well, but I’ve got a job interview coming up, and it kind of has more of a rust-tech vibe than I’m looking for.”

  “Yet you don’t want to lose functionality or have a device that conflicts with your more costly implant.” He nodded, inhaling through his nose as he tried to slot the first mod into his arm. “I understand. Any Aurora Tech model would work—even their lower-end ones can match the functionality of that old industrial job, and they’d pair flawlessly with your other eye.”

  “Little on the expensive side, though.”

  “True, especially if you buy new—manufacturers don’t like to sell individual eyes. There’s a very healthy aftermarket for them, however, especially for high-end brands. Rich people die, too, sir, and yet they’re never too eager to buy used.” He chuckled, the high-pitched sound wheezing in the back of his throat, and then tapped the side of his visor and picked up a torch. “Don’t look at the flame.”

  Tony looked away, even though his eyes would simply shut down their receptors before the brightness damaged them. “You mind searching for a replacement for me? I’ll be in town a while.”

  “My pleasure. I’ll charge a commission, and I won’t be able to install it—I’m not a chop-doc.”

  “Fair enough.” Tony sighed and leaned his chin in his hand, shifting on the stool to get a little more comfortable. He didn’t have a lot of money or a lot of time, but he was going to do what he could with what he had. He had to give himself the best shot at completing his half of the plan. He just hoped Addie was doing well. He hoped he hadn’t screwed up by selfishly letting her talk him into including her. Breathing another sigh out through his nose, he closed his eye and let himself zone out while Wizzie worked on his arm.