Fixx snapped back as the crowd picked him up. He was driftwood in the swell, the panic alive about him. The operative shouldered against the flow and slid back, standing his ground as the screaming hordes washed around him. The lasers sputtered and shrieked, darts of murderous coherent light striking like thunderbolts. The angel-things fluttered and shredded into storms of snakes, vanishing as they fell or slithering into shadows.
As “Touch” reached its crescendo and faded, the sound of sirens pealed over the crash of feet and breaking glass. Fixx shook his head, the wet fog clutching at his mind, making him feel drunk and slow. Fat droplets spattered about on the floor, sparkling in the spotlights.
More men in the talking shirts were sweeping Juno and the band off the stage. Impossibly, there were fans in the circles and the skyboxes on their feet and applauding, tears of elation streaming down their faces. Fixx threw himself at the mojo barrier and fell short, rebounding off the metal with a tingle from the stunner field.
Juno Qwan saw him. She turned and looked at him with those eyes, the porcelain face that clogged every instant of television airtime, every billboard and viddy. Fixx tried to find her name but his throat tightened. The girl looked down on him, beatific and empty.
Then the men in hoods were taking her away, and darkness settled inside the dome like the end of the world.
Tze discarded the suit like a shed skin and dressed himself once more in the kingly robes of blue and gold. The only conceit to the present day world were the handmade Italian shoes beneath the flaring curve of fabric. There were many vices that Mr Tze granted himself, but sometimes the simplest were the ones that provided the most pleasure. The shoes fitted him as perfectly as if he had been born with them, and with a sigh playing about his lips, the CEO of Yuk Lung Heavy Industries dismissed Deer Child and gathered himself.
He viewed the painting of the battle at Tsing-hsien on the far wall, cocking his head so that the clock concealed in the artwork became visible. Time, then. Time to consult once more with the players in the game.
Tze spoke a command word and the window glass went opaque, painting the room with thick pools of shadow where the light of the lanterns failed to reach. The door opened to admit the Hi woman and he gave her a cursory nod.
“Sir,” she replied, her mechanical smile snapping on, then off.
Tze glanced at his hand, the one he had used to press Francis Lam’s fingers into the blades of the ghost knife. “We have a moment before we begin…”
“The augurs report a perfect match, sir.” She knew what questions he had before they were voiced. Tze liked that about Phoebe Hi. It was one of the reasons why she wasn’t dead. “Genotype correlation is very good. Professor Tang was positively beaming when he gave me the news.”
“I imagine he was,” Tze noted dryly. “Where is Francis now?”
“Alice has taken him to Alan’s apartment. She suggested we allow him to take the residence for himself. A good solution. Far easier than setting up another secured environment from scratch.”
Tze nodded. “Commend her. Forward thinking should be rewarded.” In the middle of the room was a shallow ceremonial bowl. The executive mumbled a cantrip beneath his breath and bit into his knuckle, letting a couple of drops of blood fall into the brass basin. “Link,” he said to the air, and from hidden slots in the ceiling a cluster of projector heads emerged on silent spider legs.
A series of holograms blinked into life around the room, appearing in a circle around Tze and the bowl. Most of them were human, but one or two were simple black monoliths bearing the character for “silence”. Hi found her place among them and bowed.
Tze gave the phoenix-eye salute. “Kindred, I have good news. Our pattern continues unaffected by the trials of recent days.”
“That is gratifying to hear,” said a figure in the uniform of a general in the APRC. “Contemplation of other conclusions was very nearly implemented.”
Tze studied the man for a moment. Other conclusions, indeed. He knew for a fact that the general had prepared an attack by stealth bomber on this building, in case Tze did not give the answer he wanted. The executive bowed. “We move forward along the path the Dragon cuts for us. His ascendance is cemented.”
A grim-faced woman in a blue Highrider jumpsuit drifted forward a little; the distance it had travelled from LaGrange orbit made her signal grainy. “What about the field test? I’m eager to hear the results.”
“Your keenness is appreciated,” said Tze. “Data is still in the midst of collation,” he threw a look at Hi, “but early signs are good.”
The Highrider nodded, her image pixellating. “Encouraging.”
“But, the replacement…” said another man, a rotund Japanese in a Happi coat emblazoned with corporate logograms. “The quality is adequate, neh?”
“Very good,” said Hi, unable to stop herself from blurting it out. “I would go so far as to say superior, even.”
Tze silenced her with a gesture. “I have given Ms Hi my leave to ensure that the pattern continues to unfold as it must. The resources of my humble clan are at the disposal of this Cabal through myself and through her.”
“And what about the Americans?” said the Chinese general. “This man Nguyen Seth in the Utah wasteland with his plans?”
“They call it Deseret now,” corrected the Highrider. “It is of serious concern. Additionally, the Catholic Church is deploying more agents and there are incidents of Unknown Events in Rio Verde, Krakow and Swindon. ”
Tze’s face turned into a sneer. “Oh, the arrogance of it. The Road to the Shining City must be marked out for the Dark Ones, yes? But marked by who?” He stabbed a finger at the air. “By them? Or by us?” He showed his teeth. “This is not the time for their empty words.” Tze coiled his fingers into a ball, and where the blood still flowed from his ripped skin, it ran in red lines about his fist. “It is time for our potent deeds.”
When the city-state of Hong Kong returned to Chinese sovereign control in 1997, the farewell to British Governor Timothy Brooke-Taylor was an emotional affair. Like all births, it carried pain and glory within it. That simple moment-the exchange of flags on a rainy night-was the dawn of a new age b3ginning 0f the end and a bold future for this cessp00l of lies vibrant city. But that future did not come without struggle. The twin epidemics of avian flu and N-SARS they Set it up0n us that swept the globe forced China to look outward and offer hands of peace bu11ets amp; hyp0crisy to her neighbour nations. In the first decade of the Twenty-first century, as lawlessness threatened the cherished freedoms of millions of people cattle worldwide, Hong Kong’s unique status was endangered. China’s leaders understood they w3r3 afraid that to go forward meant taking a leaf from the city’s glorious past. In partnership with $ell?0ur $oul 2 them her international corporate partners, Hong Kong was reborn destroyed. The creation of the Hong Kong Free Economic Enterprise Quadrant (HKFEEQ) opened the door to the c0rp0rates and l3t them turn this city in2 their private playground we ha7e lo5t 0ur tiny fr33doms and we must liv3 with @ GUN 2 our heads where the law is as flexible as the creditchip in y0ur pock3t. Hong Kong is a city to be proud afraid of, and together the People’s Republic of China and her m0neypimp friends will lead it to a future of death RUIN des0lation greatness.
Excerpt from A Fragrant Destiny: A History of the Hong Kong Free Economic Enterprise Quadrant by Brian Holt Lik a c0rp0rate lack3y and ca5hwh0re.