Chapter Five
And Again
After a good night’s sleep, and a Hangover Cure Impression, Twenty-two was pronounced cured and sent off with his happy family, who had spent the night down the road in a fancy hotel.
Gogi explained it to Nine. “The drug identifies and ranks the health issues it finds. Obviously, the life-threatening infection got priority over the minor amount of foreign material in the brain. It ignored the zivvy and attacked the probably multiple bacteria. Now if they’ll just follow the doc’s orders and give him zero alcohol for a month it’ll be clear of his body. ”
“But if I take it . . .”
“If you’re as healthy as you look, it’ll identify all the metal and plastic in your body as the major problem, and prioritize breaking it down into tiny molecules your kidneys can get rid of.
The zivvy’s easy. The ocular will fall off and your eye will get repaired.
The plate will get loose, and we’ll be encouraging some of the cells in your scalp to grow, so when it’s really loose, we’ll just pull it off and stretch the extra scalp over and sew it up. ”
“And you said something about the power collectors?”
“Yeah, we’ll keep an eye on them. The Orgy drug eats into them, and they’ll get unstable and then they’ll have to be removed, surgically.”
“Ah . . .”
“Yeah. That’s the most dangerous part. Waiting too long. Mind you, we’ve never had one explode before it was removed.”
“Explode. Can I hyperventilate for a few minutes?”
“Sure, if you want to. We’re barely on the border of the Broadcast . . . they run directional rebros up the main highways. So the collectors rarely over-charge to that point. And as long as we’ve got you in surgery, that’s when we’ll remove the arm.”
He swallowed. Horrible memories of being prepped for surgery . . . looking at his left arm, knowing they were going to amputate . . .
“We’ll leave in the attachment bars. The Orgy drug will gradually dissolve them.”
He took a deep breath. “Right. So, when shall I start?”
“After dinner. We’ll lock you in your room for about three hours.
You’ll be a happy drunk . . . still a bit tipsy, but in control.
Horrible hangover in the morning. Thirty-six hours of feeling fine, then we’ll dose you again.
After the third time, you can just have the alcoholic beverage of your choice.
Beer, wine, vodka, whatever. The Orgy’s locked in on the problems and just needs the alcohol for fuel.
“If you can get control of your response, we won’t keep locking you up. But the first few times, the strength of the aphrodisiac will take you by surprise and, well, best you not be running around looking for female companionship.”
After the first night, Nine was no longer skeptical.
And got a refresher course in Mental shields, collection and disbursement of Power.
Gogi pretended he didn’t see the tears as he stared at a glowing handful . . .
I think he must have been pretty strong . . .
By the fourth night, Nine was in control of the urges, and in control of his Power. Practicing Slice, Push and Pull.
Strong and well trained. I hate this culture that ruins people like this man!
Then Gogi, with obvious reluctance, went home.
It’s time for the Sunday Dinner appearance.
***
Two Portals, and a drive across the city later, he got the RV under cover, and cleaned up. Then took an autocab to Vogel House.
A sniff from the Housekeeper as he walked in the side door. “Oh, there you are!”
He dressed for the usual late formal dinner, sitting well down the table, on the same side as his mother, six seats away where she wouldn’t see him, and being mostly ignored. He slumped and kept his head down.
The last growth spurt got me up to almost six feet tall. Haven’t filled out yet. Hair not really pale enough to call blond . . .
Lord Ernst at the head, looked down the table at him. Frowned.
All the various cousins, all distant relatives . . . Lord Ernst has a couple of older daughters, and their children, all living across. Uncle Gustav and my mother are Lord Alwin’s only children . . . these people all trace back to a great great grandfather . . .
I wonder if Gustav is still officially on the line? He must have been Cyborged under forged documentation . . . if they didn’t have him declared dead after seven years, that’s going to be a mess when Lord Ernst dies.
But Lord Ernst is young, well, sixty-eight, so it hardly matters . . .
Afterwards, Gogi snagged an extra piece of cake and took it up to Lord Dietfried in the care ward.
“How’s your back doing?”
“Better. Pretty good actually. I’ve been using that Healing Impression you showed me. You’re damned good at the medical stuff, I’ll give you that! And a damn good fighter.” He waved at the other four men. “Not that they believed a word I said.”
Gogi nodded. “Figures.” Wish I had the nerve to give him a dose of Orgy . . . Heh. All of them.
The old lord savored the cake. “Ah. You’re a good kid. Now turn on the TV. I want to watch tonight’s match, and Denis can stuff his appropriate night’s sleep shit.”
Gogi grinned and complied. Slipped him the remote and headed for his hideout in the attic.
I sleep better on Boreal . . .
But I do need to be seen occasionally.
In the morning, one of the footmen caught him as he left his third-floor bathroom after he’d showered.
“Lord Ernst will see you in his office at nine this morning.”
He glanced at his watch. “Right.” He walked into the bedroom, and picked up the small cheap computer he kept there, with only the information on it that he wanted anyone here to know. Headed down stairs. Down the main stairs, that he so seldom used . . .
Lord Ernst’s Exec raised his nose, and pointed to a chair beside the door.
Gogi sat, turned on the computer and started reading a book . . . The inner door opened.
His mother stepped out and froze.
Gogi slipped out of the chair and walked to the far corner, and stared at the wall. Listened to the quick steps behind him and away. Then turned and returned to the chair.
After a moment the Exec, a little pale (He’d let Lady Monika see that horrible child!) stepped to the inner door, still open.
“That boy is here.”
“Send him in.”
Gogi closed the comp and walked in. Gave the Head of Family a polite half bow. “You wished to see me, sir?”
“You’ve been rather hard to find.”
“I bother the House as little as possible, sir.”
“You will be seventeen on July fourth. I failed to find your Cert in the vault. Do you know where it is?”
“Yes, sir, Lord Dietfried gave it to me to update after he Presented me.”
“What!” The lord rose to his feet. “I did not give him permission to Present you, and you are too young!”
“Lord Dietfried does not need your permission. He is my guardian, sir. When I reached the minimum age of sixteen and ten months, he Presented me.”
“Lady Monika wants you to be cyborged and sold.”
“Er . . . that is no longer a legal option.”
“I do not believe this!”
Gogi opened the computer and connected to the Public Records Site. Tapped in his code and set the computer on the lord’s desk, facing him.
“I have excellent school records, passed the EGE with a perfect score, and have taken three semesters of college classes in NMCC’s on Netz program.”
“You are only sixteen!”
“I have passed my Presentation. My Class Four is not impressive but it is sufficient to prevent you from . . .”
“Get. Out. Of. The. House!”
Gogi bowed. “Yes, sir.” He reached for the computer. . .
“Leave it!”
He turned and walked out.
There wasn’t anything in his attic hideout he really needed, but he packed the clothes and his good computer, pocketed his phone and walked out, down the servants’ stairs, and out the delivery gate. Started walking.
The last time I’ll make this hike.
And stopped halfway when his computer started beeping . . . two KHR Cyborgs on the Board on T2 Holstein. Both converted in 3720. And I’ve never known if he was registered with the real year of conversion, anyway. It was illegal, after all.
He walked on . . . couldn’t ignore it. He stopped and got on Netz and bid on both. Why quit now? All that’s really changed is that I don’t need to ever go back to Vogel House again.
By the time he’d picked up a bunch of clothes (size large for Cyborgs) and loaded up on sandwiches and drinks, he barely made the Holstein Portal.
Got searched on the Holstein side, while upping his bid on one of the Cyborgs.
“What are you doing?” One of the searchers loomed.
“Buying old Cyborgs.” He tipped the computer to show the board site as it dinged an accepted bid.
He tapped in the payment.
“Why?”
“I live on a Resort World that always needs labor. These guys’ll be carting camping supplies up mountains. Plenty of food, fresh air. The few that don’t like it, I find work in town. Most of them are delighted to be outside.”
“Huh.” He shook his head and they all retreated, as his bid was accepted on the second guy. He paid for him, then got out the map and headed for the pickup.
Both men were under hard Control and Suppression Impressions.
Twenty-six was radiating anger. Amygdala grow-in. I didn’t ask, they didn’t tell.
Forty was depressed. The scars of more than one suicide attempt on his right wrist.
He took over the Control Impressions, showed them the lav, handed them sandwiches and drinks and told them to sit in the back. Gave them permission to use the lav as needed. Eat, drink, and sleep.
These two are the worst yet. In completely different directions.
He looked back at Twenty-six . . . His nose had been broken . . . but the chin line, the shape of his right eye . . .
He got out two DNA kits and got swabs from both of them. Labeled carefully.
He portaled back to Home, around to Portal Facility Five to catch a Portal to Solzhenitsyn . . .
Caught a long nap waiting for the once-a-day Portal to Boreal, and back to the place that felt like his real home.
***
He dropped the DNA kits off at the clinic, drove on to park at the end of the North wing. He had to use the Controls to get Twenty-six into the lock up. To make him drink a small glass of the Orgy.
“Whew! I hate amygdala grow-ins. That was only the second time I had to do that.”
Nine had watched, appalled. “I didn’t realize you had a room fixed up . . . like that. You just locked me in a regular room.” Then he slanted a look at the depressed Forty. “Are you all right?”
“No.” He slumped down in a chair. “I can’t stand myself. I’ve done so many horrible things.”
Nine winced. “Ex-Military?”
A shaken head. “Mercenary. One of the bad companies.”
A snort from Sevastian. “Are there good ones?”
A couple of the guys nodded.
Glen Clemens, who nurtured a good-sized garden down the hill, nodded.
“Used to be one. Most are just doing a dirty job, professionally. The Company that bought me? Invaders, intimidators. New Worlds. They’d bomb, poison, spread plagues .
. . they didn’t care how many people they killed.
Then when they had the Natives down to a reasonable number, they’d .
. . train them . . . and make sure the next generation was raised right, and mostly Halfers. ”
He thumped Forty’s shoulder. “Come help me in the garden. It’s good for the soul.”
Forty shrugged, but followed him.
Nine eyed the kid. “You didn’t take off their Controls, and you gave one of them the Orgy without asking him if he wanted to de-cyborg?”
“Yeah, it should take care of the amygdala grow-in. Then he’ll be rational, and we’ll talk. Forty . . . he’s been controlled, probably made to brutalize, murder, rape . . .free him right now, and he may just see that he can finally kill himself.”
“Oh. Yeah, I can see that. The little town I started with trained me to be a proper cop, then took all the controls off. The city grew out to them, took over and . . . I sort of pretended I still had controls. I actually liked the work. Helping people, interspersed with an occasional good fight.”
“You got injured a lot.”
“I really prefer fist fights to knives. Caught a bullet once, lasers three times.” He shrugged. “After twenty-five years, mandatory ‘retirement.’ That is to say, they sell you to the highest bidder.”
“Nice.” Bj?rn grinned. “Most of us don’t get dumped until we’ve had a couple of plate infections.”
“There is that advantage, if the right person shows up to buy you.”
Nods all around, and glances to the side as Sam walked in, grinning.
“Twenty-six is a match. Congratulations! You have found Uncle Gustav.”
“Oh.” Gogi gulped. “I sort of thought he looked a bit like . . . family . . . Well.” He grabbed a chair and sat.
In a controlled fashion. Not at all like I was collapsing.
“Well. We’ll find out in the morning how . . . what kind of person he is.”
“It’ll be fine.” Isay patted his shoulder. “I mean, even I turned out all right. Right?”
Snickers.
“Right, bartender.” Wes grinned.
Isay sniffed. “Says the Artiste!”
“And we get to finally find out what the boss will do after he’s succeeded.”
“Well . . . resist just rescuing random Cyborgs? I could branch out I suppose.” He eyed the crowd suspiciously. “No. I can’t rescue random women so you’ll all have girlfriends. Because all women over eighteen have to have chips.”
“True, but just three doses won’t mess up the chip.” Bj?rn looked a little wishful.
“And then there are finding jobs for all of you, once you’re cured.
” Gogi thought that over. “You know . . . I should invest in some businesses. Just because tourism is the World’s main industry doesn’t mean we don’t need plumbers and electricians.
Shops and restaurants . . . and yes, Wes, art galleries. ”
“Book stores.” Sv put in. “And we’ve nearly got an in-house architect, and a builder.”
Gogi nodded. “So do we do this closer to town or find someplace seriously picturesque and start up our own tourist trap, with a restaurant, bar, souvenirs, art gallery, bookstore . . .”
“Public restrooms to pull people in off the highway.”
Gogi snorted. “Souta, you are so damned . . . right!”
“Maybe an ice cream parlor? Or bakery?”
“Det, you’re going to get fat!”
A couple of them started looking for land that was for sale. Near a highway. “Just need one really scenic view . . .”
Gogi started laughing. “I have created a monster!”