"Yeah, I get it. No relationships. No hard work. No rejection. No reality." I shake my head in disbelief. "None of it is real. It's all a lie, an illusion of the worst kind. A fantasy created to rob people of their money and make them ill-equipped for handling relationships in real life. Society is crumbling because of handicaps created by disassociation related to virtual immersion."
He waves a dismissive hand. "More Dabria propaganda. No one's putting a gun to anyone's head. Supply and demand. You know how it works. If I don't provide the service, then the next man will. And there's too much easy money for me to pass up because of some antiquated moral code."
I sigh, feeling drained. "You weren't like this when you were with us. I can't believe you turned your back on everything for this debauchery. Doesn't it bother you? Make you feel ashamed?"
He gives me a look of sympathy as if I'm the one in the wrong. "Not at all. I just woke up, Enigma. Joining some fight to free humanity from the grips of tech addiction and evil corporations? An exercise in futility. You can't free a bird that loves its cage. People don't want to face reality. They want to escape it. The submission to tech happened before we were born. Before the Cataclysm. Technology and humanity are in a symbiotic relationship. One can't exist without the other. In a way, we're all cyborgs."
I sigh, gritting my teeth in frustration. "Look, we can do this all day, but I know it won't matter. I'm here because I need information."
"You mean Cyber Corp needs it. I get it. And with the proper payment, they can have it."
"You need more money?" I glance around. "Isn't this printing more than you can spend?"
He shrugs. "It's not about money. It's about value. If I provide a service for free, then it's worthless."
"Fine. What's the cost this time?
He smiles. "I'll make it easy on you for old time's sake. I'll do you this favor, and you owe me one."
"A favor?"
"Yeah. Will that work?"
"I'm not having sex with you, Nox."
A grin flashes across his face. "I'm wounded. As fantastic as that would be, I get all the sex a man can take right here. We're talking a future investment."
I hesitate. He has an ulterior motive, but I can't figure it out. "What can I possibly do for you in my situation?"
"You never know. Do we have a deal or not?"
"Yeah, sure."
"Good. So — what do you want to know about Dean Gray?"
I stare at him. "How did you know?"
"Elementary, my dear Enigma. Last time I gave you his name. But it looks like you're still chasing your tail."
"Well, yeah. We found out information on Dean, but nothing that helps. His parents are both dead, his last known residence vacated. He core-jacks synoids for money and keeps that income stream off the records, so there's no trail to follow. And the privacy standards of Immersion habitats make it easy to rent a DSP under a false name, so there's no way to find his current location."
"You need to track him here in Elysia."
"Yeah. I think he might be flushed out the system now, but he'll be back in Immersion soon enough. I need a sure way to find him when that happens."
He shrugs. "Okay."
"Okay? Just like that?"
"There's always a way, White Rabbit. Leave it to me. I'll contact you when I have it."
"Fine. I owe you."
"I'll collect." He regards me with a keen gaze as if trying to read my mind. "You know she's alive, don't you?"
"Dabria? Yeah, I know."
He must hear something in my voice, because a triumphant look flashes across his face. "She contacted you, didn't she?"
"Yeah. Briefly. Straight to business. You know how she is."
"Yeah, I know exactly how she is. Promise me you won't let her influence you again. You're a walking time bomb, and she won’t care whether the detonator goes off or not."
"I didn’t know you cared, Nox."
"You know better. I've always been honest with you, whether you liked what I had to say or not. Dabria hasn't. So promise me, okay?"
"I gotta go." I reach up to remove my v-drive when he stops me, reaching out and touching my gleaming metal arm.
"You ever think about us, Enigma? Before everything went to hell?"
I look into his golden eyes. "You mean before you quit?"
He grimaces. "Yeah. Before I quit."
I pull my arm away. "No. That's ancient history."
The lair winks out of existence when I remove the v-drive, replaced by my hotel room in the Bradbury. The air smells like old wood and stale air, and the windows pulse with soft neon lighting. I lean back in my chair and try to forget about Nox. What happened in the past doesn't matter anymore.
More and more, it seems like nothing does.
Chapter 5: 5P3CT3R
I try to ignore the hibernation hangover, but it lingers like a vengeful spirit.
With my body replenished, at least I can finally manage to move without staggering like a drunken fool. My first stop is the deposit box to reclaim my essentials: a change of clothes including a durable overcoat equipped with concealed tech pockets and a retractable flak hood that disperses digital chaff in the presence of cameras to veil my face from surveillance.
My metaflex commuter bag contains everything I need, which isn't much: my Sensync Immersion kit, a utility tool, a cy-gear glove, and thirty-five thousand in bullion cards. With that amount, I can return to Elysia for a six-month stint, but I'll be dead broke when the lease ends. As tempting as it is to forget everything and get back to Hel, I know what I have to do.
Not trusting Flo to hold my pod, I make sure to bring my account to balance at a convenience machine. After that, it's time to head out. I nearly make it to the doors when an anxiety attack hits me out of nowhere. My legs shake, my heart pumps motor oil, my chest constricts, and I can barely breathe. Wheezing, I pull a pack of Chillz and pop a tab, swallowing the pill dry. The nanopowder hits my bloodstream immediately, activating pleasure sensors in my brain that produce a calming effect. In seconds I feel like I'm walking on clouds.
A robot assistant rolls over. "Do you need medical assistance, Mr. Smith?"
I wave it away. "It's nothing. I'm fine."
Taking a deep breath, I enter the elevator. The doors rattle shut, and the sensation of temporary buoyancy follows, evoking a brief nausea spell when the lift shoots upward, several hundred floors to the surface.
There's nothing to see when I exit. The compound is just another building in a massive industrial sector. The overly bright neon sign is practically the only illumination on the whole block. Most of the surrounding buildings are derelict, abandoned over time as business dried up and residents left the Inland Empire in floods. From what I've learned in the archives, San Bernardino wasn't exactly a shining jewel back when the Cataclysm struck. The resulting devastation didn't do the place any favors.
It's a long walk to the lift station, where I wait to catch a shuttle. Dim lights barely illuminate the empty station. Shadows are everywhere, and I can't help but imagine hidden threats in every one of them. In Elysia, I've fought and won in survival tournaments, went toe-to-toe with cyber ninjas, and stormed military bases on other planets. In the real world, I'm no threat to anyone. Skinny, undernourished, and physically unimposing. My best option in the case of being attacked is to run, and even then I won't make it far.
As if on cue, someone approaches. A woman dressed in an oversized, ragged old coat over equally threadbare clothes staggers toward me, reeking and sickly. Her skin is yellowed, her hair matted and filthy. Her eyes are wide and crazed, riddled with red veins. I clutch my bag tighter and edge a few steps away.