Rivera didn’t move. “Yes, it would.”
“I can see you doing almost anything to avoid that. I’m glad you didn’t have to, though.” Kiah got to his feet and walked straight into Rivera’s line of sight. “I don’t like what I know about you, Mr. Rivera, but I was going to come here to make a deal with you. See, I thought I’d managed to prove you had access to an illegal knowbot program and that you were using it to generate income for Louisa Fowler. My evidence is pretty flimsy and a good lawyer would have chewed it up and spit it out. Being IRS doesn’t pull that much weight anymore.” He smiled. “Ms. Fowler knew that, which was why she went through us, or why she would have, if she was attempting something illegal. We’re small, we’ve got very few legal powers left, and nobody likes us. It’s worse than being a dentist. But if I had your cooperation, well, I could catch Louisa Fowler, expose a weakness in the credit system, and create a new tax category. All of which would be worth enough to the government to keep your network access up so you could go into business for yourself again, free and clear, after paying off a fine and serving probation.
“But of course, that’s not how it is at all. So I won’t take up any more time. Thank you for talking to me, Mr. Rivera, you’ve been very patient.” Kiah turned away. “Funny how I missed the bit about your brain damage. I’ll look again and I’m sure it’ll be in my files when I get back to my office. Or I could ask Dr. Marshall for a look at his. Your floor supervisor’s an old-fashioned man, you know that? He keeps physical files.”
He met Rivera’s eyes. They were wide open and staring.
“But… they don’t make paper anymore.”
“No. But a few places do still make microfilm. Good-bye, Mr. Rivera.” Kiah broke the connection.
Kiah pulled the virtual reality gear off, settled back in his chair and grinned up at the sign on the far wall. It was going to work. Greg would probably go out and dance in the streets.
The irony of it was that between them, Fowler and Rivera had made a good point. There were probably hundreds of people out there who were not just physically, but mentally sustained by friends and loved ones through the networks. Those people were entitled to special consideration. Network hook-ups cost money.
Kiah rubbed his scalp. What would you call them? Mental dependents? No. Significant Minds? Brain of Opposite Sex Shoring Living Quarters? Kiah chuckled and faced his own window. Chicago sprawled across the landscape all the way to the horizon.
“Look out, Mr. Capone,” he said to the world outside. “We’re back!”