“They know you didn’t do anything.” Aman closed his eyes and leaned back against the broken plasterboard of the ruined wall. Pain thudded through his shoulder with every beat of his heart. “It’s the guy who killed your girlfriend.”
“Why? I never hurt him. I never even found him…”
“You looked for him,” Aman mumbled. “That scared ’em.”
The kid’s blank silence forced his eyes open.
“I’m guessing the local government is running a little…drug eradication program by eliminating the market,” he said heavily. Explaining to a child. “They cut a deal with the street connections and probably handed them a shipment of…altered…stuff to put into the pipeline. Sudden big drop in users.”
“Poisoned?” Daren whispered. “On purpose?”
“Nasty, huh? Election coming up. Numbers count. And who looks twice at an OD in a confirmed user?” Aman kept seeing Jimi’s childlike curl on the couch, the cat regarding him patiently. Couldn’t make it go away. “Maybe they thought you had proof. Maybe they figured you’d guess and tell your…friends. They might make it public.” He started to shrug…sucked in a quick breath. Mistake. Waited for the world to steady again. “I should have guessed…the suit would know about Jimi. Would be tailing him.” That was why the long look in the office. Memory impression so the suit could spot him in a crowd. “I figured it out just too late.” His fault, Jimi’s death. “How soon are your people going to pick you up?”
“Soon. I think.” The kid was staring at the ground, looked up suddenly. “How come you came after me? To arrest me?”
“Listen.” Aman pushed himself straighter, gritted his teeth until the pain eased a bit. “I told you you’re leaving a trail like a neon sign. You listen hard. You got to think about what you buy…food, clothes, toothpaste, okay?” He stared into the kid’s uncomprehending face, willing him to get it. “It’s all tagged, even if they say it’s not. Don’t doubt it. I’m telling you truth here, okay?”
The kid closed his mouth, nodded.
“You don’t buy exactly the opposite — that’s a trail we can follow, too — but you buy random. Maybe vegan stuff this time, maybe a pair of synth-leather pants off the rack at a big chain next purchase. Something you’d never spend cash on. Not even before you became a Gaiist, got it? You think about what you really want to buy. The food. The clothes. The snacks, toys, services. And you only buy them every fifth purchase, then every fourth, then every seventh. Got it? Random. You do that, buy stuff you don’t want, randomly, and without a chip, you won’t make a clear track. You’ll be so far down on the profile that the searcher won’t take you seriously.”
“I’ve been buying in the Belt,” the kid protested.
“Doesn’t matter.” He had explained why to Jimi. Couldn’t do it again. Didn’t have the strength. Let his eyes droop closed.
“Hey.” The kid’s voice came to him from a long way away. “I got to know. How come you came after me? To tell me how to hide from you? You really want me to believe that?”
“I don’t care if you do or not.” Aman struggled to open his eyes, stared into the blurry green light filtering through the kudzu curtain. “I’m…not sure how come I followed you.” Maybe because he hadn’t asked why and Jimi had. Maybe because Avi had been right and the job had changed him after all.
“But why? You a closet Gaiist?”
Aman wanted to laugh at that, but he didn’t. It would hurt too much.
Voices filtered through nightmares full of teeth. People talking. No more green light, so it must be almost dark. Or maybe he was dying. Hard to tell. Footsteps scuffed and the kid’s face swam into view, Jimi’s at first, morphing into the other kid…Daren. He tried to say the name but his mouth was too dry.
“We’re gonna drop you at an emergency clinic.” Daren leaned close, his eyes anxious. “But…well, I thought maybe…you want to go with us? I mean…they’re going to find out you killed that Fed guy, right? You’ll go to prison.”
Yes, they would find out. But he knew how it worked. They’d hold the evidence and the case open. No reason to risk pointing some investigative reporter toward the little dope deal they’d been covering up. They’d have expectations, and he’d meet them, and Jimi’s death would turn out to have been another nasty little killing in the Belt. He could adopt Jimi’s cat. No harm done. Just between us.
“I’ll come with you,” he croaked. “You could use some help with your invisibility. And I have the track to the proof you need…about that drug deal. Make the election interesting.” Wasn’t pleading. Not that. Trade.
“You can’t come chipped.” A woman looked over Daren’s shoulder, Hispanic, ice cold, with an air that said she was in charge. “And we got to go now.”
“I know.” At least the chip was in his good shoulder.
She did it, using a tiny laser scalpel with a deft sureness that suggested med school or even an MD. And it hurt, but not a lot compared to the glowing coals of pain in his left arm and then they were loading him into the back of a vehicle and it was fully dark outside.
He was invisible. Right now. He no longer existed in the electronic reality of the city. If he made it back to his apartment it wouldn’t let him in. The corner store wouldn’t take his card or even cash. He felt naked. No, he felt as if he no longer existed. Death wasn’t as complete as this. Wondered if Avi had felt like that at first. I probably could have found him, he thought. If I’d had the guts to try.
“I’m glad you’re coming with us.” Daren sat beside him as the truck or whatever it was rocked and bucked over broken pavement toward the nearest clear street. “Lea says you probably won’t die.”
“I’m thrilled.”
“Maybe we can use the drug stuff to influence the election, get someone honest elected.”
He was as bad as Jimi, Aman thought. But…why not hope?
“You’ll like the head of our order,” Daren said thoughtfully. “He’s not a whole lot older than me, but he’s great. Really brilliant and he cares about every person in the order. She really matters to him…the Earth I mean. Avi will really welcome you.”
Avi.
Aman closed his eyes.
“Hey, you okay?” Daren had him by the shoulders. “Don’t die now, not after all this.” He sounded panicky.
“I won’t,” Aman whispered. He managed a tiny laugh that didn’t hurt too bad.
Maybe it hadn’t been the final fight after all.
Could almost make him believe in Avi’s Goddess. Almost.
“Your head of the order sucks at hiding,” he whispered. And fainted.
Cory Doctorow
When Sysadmins Ruled the Earth
If William Gibson and Bruce Sterling were the alpha cyberpunks of last century, then Charles Stross and Cory Doctorow have become the alphas of this one. Here Doctorow geeks fluently about terrorism and net culture, sorrow and idealism. He nods at all those stories about global cataclysm and the end of human civilization but then offers a decidedly PCP take on who might be best suited to do the Adam and Eve thing. To watch his Sysadmins struggling to rebuild politics is to realize that cyberpunk, paradoxically, has become a literature for grownups.
When Felix’s special phone rang at two in the morning, Kelly rolled over and punched him in the shoulder and hissed, “Why didn’t you turn that fucking thing off before bed?”
“Because I’m on call,” he said.
“You’re not a fucking doctor,” she said, kicking him as he sat on the bed’s edge, pulling on the pants he’d left on the floor before turning in. “You’re a goddamned systems administrator.”