Chapter Eight
Home Again
Nine studied the skyline of tall buildings. Nova Moskva.
The kid was driving. He and Twenty-six were along for .
. . for no particular reason beyond it looking a bit less sketchy for a teenager to have a chauffeur and guard (and thus obviously rich) than a boy wandering around alone with a stack of Certs.
Plus, parking for the RV might be a bit difficult.
Twenty-six whistled. “It hasn’t changed much in eighteen years, but I’d forgotten how high and damn, the Records Building is a huge hulk!”
Nine nodded. “Makes Solzhenitsyn look . . . well . . . like it spread out instead of up.”
“Nova Moskva did both. The City’s ridiculously huge.”
The kid pulled up in front of the south doors, and Twenty-six took over the wheel.
“Relax, Nine! Or remember your cop days and be official and of course you belong here!”
“Right. Following a very young rookie patroller.” Nine grinned. A very young one who slept through too many classes at the police academy!
The kid looked all around. “Wow, they’re really busy.” Kept walking until he shrugged and dodged into a room. Took a terminal facing the door, his screen not visible to anyone just glancing in.
He signed in with a handprint. Brought up the electronic version of Twenty-six’ records. Asked for the entire history . . . side-by-side comparison with Gustav Horst Vogel . . . Oh, Gustav’s have never been updated.
The kid pulled up an errata report and reported the Cyborg’s entire record as hacked in and requested complete removal at the monthly update.
Approval required.
The kid put his hand on the pad, and got an approval.
Holy . . .
Then he put in a change of address for Gustav.
Requested a replacement Cert and ID card.
Approved.
Next Cyborg . . . And Feodosiy Kalbach lost all the Cyborging and sales on his record. Kept the biometrics, retrieved his school records. Parentage . . . was augmented with a marriage. A Presentation . . .
The kid pulled up the records of three Arenas, and spotted holes in their schedules, used that date and time, pulled a record of an elderly Cyborg who’d died before making it to the arena . . . changed it.
Good God he’s thorough!
Inserted the Cert and requested a replacement due to an excess of errors.
Handprint, approved.
That’s . . . that’s . . .
He went through all nineteen without any kickback at all.
This is so, so very illegal, and the machine just . . . takes all of his approvals.
Then Diana’s electronic copy. The chipping and sale to PFUG already on the electronic record. The kid amended the chip to a wife version and gave it a zero impairment grow-in, and a change of address. He ran the Cert through the kiosk to be updated.
Nine hesitated . . . Ask later, in private.
“And we’re done here.” He patted the kiosk. “Thank you!”
Nine pinched his nose.
But followed him out without comment.
The RV was waiting at the back of the parking lot, and came to pick them up.
Behind the closed door, Nine eyed the kid.
“Are you not going to remove Diana’s chip? She’s only thirteen.”
“In five years she’ll be legally required to have been chipped.”
“Oh. Right. Women. Too emotional and dangerous to be allowed to have Power.”
“Yeah. I’d say it was the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard of, but I follow politics . . . but it’s still in the top ten. So she got a wife chip, and a very good grow-in. Sold.”
They headed for the Portal . . . and a big celebration.
The Government had approved their claim. And they’d been designing the strip of shops . . .
Gogi grinned and paid the standard hundred rubles per acre for five thousand acres of mostly rock and forest.
Twenty-six boggled. “How much money did Father get from those degenerate . . .”
“Ninety million. By the time I, umm, acquired access . . . the balance was close to two hundred million and generating about eighteen million a year. I diverted ten percent of that to PFUG annually. I mean, they weren’t using it for anything.”
“And,” Twenty-six grinned . . . and wiped a tear.
“And it worked. Plus, you rescued twenty-three other Cyborgs . . . Damn, kid. If you ever get caught . . . tell them that you did, in fact, find me. And that I said it sounded like a damn good use of the money and that they can come and meet me if they want to. Or they can keep pretending that I don’t exist.”
***
Diana had the entire contingent of middle-aged men wrapped around her fingers, and was enrolled in an on Netz school. With all of the guys happy to tutor her.
And do some specific planning.
Nine grinned. “So, Bj?rn, how much rock do I need to start moving in order to have a nice flat spot for this enterprise?”
“A lot. I was thinking about drilling and blasting, or just building on top of it with steps up . . .”
“Nope. I can do the rock work.”
“And you still got cyborged?” Wes was appalled.
“Yeah, when I was seventeen, I did the entry to my owner’s house and talked about if they opened a business, I’d bring in an amazing amount of money, all they had to do was adopt and Present me.”
He shook his head. “The lord said ‘Never!’ The lady smirked. ‘Now we’ll be the envy of the locals! and they’ll never have a floor like this!’ And they called the CC.”
“Humph. Pack of idiots!” Diana snorted. “Of course, I got a pervert, that’s nastier, just not as stoopid!”
“Yeah, you got a bad one.”
“But! We all got rescued.” The girl grinned.
“And perhaps we all ought to go take a serious survey of this site . . . especially the waterfall.” Gogi grinned and started handing out Certs.
“You last five guys? Once the cybernetics stuff is gone, I’ll go back and fix yours.
Right now, if we get checked, you’ll match the paperwork.
In a few months, you’ll need the new Certs. ”
The crowd looked over the newly printed Certs . . .
Wes shook his head. “Damn, boy, I hope you’re not playing footsie with the Bratva.”
Gogi snickered. “Nope. So . . . Party time? And tomorrow we start surveying and firming up plans.”
***
It was glorious turning loose the Power on the rocks.
A bare rocky slope deforming into a cliff and flat shelf for the shops, steps down to the almost flat parking area . . . a little bit at a time, with much food and drink. But even so, much cheaper than drilling and dynamiting a flat spot. Might have even been faster.
Then he alternated with Gogi, slicing out a path well above the high-water mark on the canyon sides. Mostly open and half roofed, occasionally a tunnel, all the way back to the waterfall amphitheater. Hollowed out a little grotto with benches.
Then steps down to the floor of the amphitheater.
Then roughing up the steps and rounding off sharp edges and corners . . . Raising the overhead in a couple of places, although they were all so tall, he’d automatically made the places with overhang pretty tall.
Then, from the building site, long runs of pipes, a long way downhill and off the solid rock for the septic . . .
Then lifting the iron framing to be welded in place according to Bj?rn’s blueprints . . .
With the Mentalist work, it went amazingly fast.
Gogi and Twenty-six, when he joined them, learned the techniques as fast as he could demonstrate them.
Nine shook his head. “Swear to God. In three years Uncle Gustav ought to go to UAH for a Master Mentalist degree. And Gogi needs to apply as an undergrad.”