Chapter 4
THE HOUSE IS LARGER THAN it appears on the outside.
So much larger. The exterior I mistook for a modest single-storey structure is, in fact, little more than a raised roof, the iceberg-tip of what has to be the nicest and most massive underground bunker I’ve ever seen.
Stairs as soon as we enter, and more stairs sliding down past the first floor that’s our destination.
We descend to polished floors and marbled columns and a vaulted digiglass ceiling that creates a perfect replica of the night sky above.
As Old Woman dodders ahead, sections brighten to cast a pleasant ambient light in her path.
“Your man back at the other house—”
“A contractor. Hired by neural. He has no idea where we are, and he knows to disappear before anyone comes looking.”
I grunt. Lucky for him. Mildly annoying for me.
“What do you eat, dear?” She heads past some obscenely comfortable-looking couches arrayed around a holo. A kitchen springs from concealed panels in the corner with a soft whir at her approach.
“Nothing for me.” I walk slowly, taking in the space. Just the one entrance, but it’s wide. Raised. Easy to monitor, hard to defend. Though, the EMP ring that I have to assume is active out there will help mitigate any frontal assault.
From the corner of my eye, I see her opening a cupboard. I pause and allow a moment to observe. There’s a refrigerator, a large thermo, a sink. It all looks manual. She spots my look. Smiles absently, more at herself than me. “Bots never get it the way I like.”
“They’re a lot faster though.”
“I like to be hands-on.” Her wittering demeanour seems to fade, just for a second. “And bots can be hacked.”
I don’t respond, but mentally give a little sigh. There it is. Classic lifer paranoia, even if it’s usually justified.
The problem is, there’s no way this woman is a lifer. Not unless she’s also insane. There’s silence as she prepares whatever she’s preparing.
I resume my inspection of the space. It’s minimalistic. Spartan, even. Sections of wall are digiglass too, but they’re dark, no memories or artwork displayed. I eye the stairs disappearing below. “Is this the only way in?”
“No. There are a couple farther down. I’ll show you after we eat.
” Whatever she’s cooking smells surprisingly good.
Not that I’ll have any. The lack of Autochef is annoying, but she must at least have a bioprinter in here somewhere.
Something I can program to spit out the balance of nutrients needed for my revs to function properly.
She’s distracted and I’d prefer her full attention for this next part, so I sit patiently at the sleek tinted-glass dining table and wait. She soon joins me, clinking a plate of bacon, eggs, and toast in front of me as well as herself.
Great. She’s senile, too. “I said nothing for me.”
“I insist. You’re my employee for the next two weeks, correct?” She squints at me. I can’t tell if she’s amused or serious. “Don’t you have to do what I tell you to do?”
“No. You’ve contracted me for the next two weeks. There’s a difference.” I push the plate away firmly. I think my revs are slowing down just from the proximity to all that grease. “It’s important I stick to a particular diet. For both our sakes.”
Old Woman looks at the untouched plate in front of me disapprovingly. “You’re not very polite.”
“My real employers don’t pay me to be polite.”
“Just to kill people.”
Silence as I meet her gaze steadily. Not because I’m surprised she knows; the Keres wouldn’t get any business if they were a secret. But because she said it. Because she’s not looking away, even as she takes an unhealthily large mouthful and chews. Like a sassy, animated cadaver.
“We need to discuss getting my comms back up.” Outside of an EMP ring, I can’t remember the last time I didn’t at least have the option of Atti in my ear.
“Alright.” She crunches a strip of bacon.
“So… do you have a way to get my comms back up?”
“Nope.”
“Repair bots?”
“Nope.”
“What about something that can tap into Q-net?”
“Nope.”
I take a deep breath. “You have to understand. Those employers we were just talking about… they’re going to want to know where the hell I am.
” It’s not a threat. I think. Honestly, though they definitely won’t want me outright abandoning the contract, I have no idea how the Keres will react to one of their assets being absconded with.
I can’t imagine it will be with smiles and kindness, though.
“And you want your AI back.”
“And I want my AI back,” I agree with perhaps a touch more emphasis than necessary. “I’m here to keep you safe. Atti can help with that.”
“ ‘Atti.’ You’re talking about ATRoPoS, I assume. You do know it’s not a person, right?”
“That’s why I trust her.”
Old Woman takes a rapid last few mouthfuls with unladylike gusto, then anachronistically dabs at her shrivelled lips with a serviette. “Well. I’m sure we can survive for a couple of weeks without, anyway.”
“I’m not.” She rises, but I don’t follow. “I mean it.”
Another absent smile down at me. Like all the seriousness of my tone gets lost by the time it hits her ears. “I know you do, dear, but there’s not anything we can do about it now. Come on. I’ll show you those lower entrances, and then we’ll set you up in your room.”
“No.” Calm and professional. Damn, I hate protection. “I need certain resources to do this job properly. If you’re going to restrict my access to those, I’m afraid I need to insist that you call the volo back.” Worth a bluff.
Old Woman sighs. Her expression says she knows all too well that my bosses will kill me if I just walk away. Not metaphorically, either.
She leans down and brings up the in-table display. With a couple of quick taps and a flick, she sends a data screen to my side.
“What’s this?”
“Incentive to be good.”
I humour her, more from morbid curiosity than professionalism now.
It’s a Pactum screen. DeGov-mediated public transaction ledger, impossible to spoof.
Old Woman’s already set up the bond. I just need to input a wallet.
“So… you have a biochip, and you’ve linked it to this contract.
You don’t die for another 330 hours, and I get…
a data file?” Not even tokens. I feel mildly insulted.
“You get answers about what happened in Oceanus four years ago.”
I freeze. I’ve misheard. I look up at her. Damn. I haven’t misheard. Her eyes are sharp.
“What do you know about that?” Only one thing she could be talking about. No point pretending.
“A lot more than you do. And it’s all in the file.”
I act as if I’m reading the words in front of me again.
Pactum isn’t on Q-net, but it’s online. I could get a message to the Keres right now.
It’s what they’d expect me to do. “You asked the Keres to send me. Me, specifically. That’s why it cost so much.
” Atti wouldn’t shut up about the tokens we were getting for this job.
“You are a smart one, dear. Yes.”
“Why?” I don’t send anything. Yet. Asshats could have at least warned me. “How do you even know about me?”
Old Woman smiles. It’s a sharp smile. I don’t think she’s senile any more. “Keep me breathing long enough, and maybe I’ll explain.”
“I’d like to know now.”
“No.”
“And what’s to stop me from forcing the issue?” I don’t make it threatening. We both know who I am. What I am.
To my surprise, Old Woman chortles. “Do I look like I’d survive… whatever it is you’d do to me?” She taps her head. “This is still strong enough, but this”—she gestures to the rest of her desiccated form—“not so much, these days.”
She’s right. I knew it even as I said it. And then I’d be down a data file, too.
“You’re very annoying.”
“So I’ve been told.” Still smiling that stupid smile.
She knows she has me. “Oh, and there’s one other stipulation: while you are employed by me, you answer any questions I have, and you do it honestly.
If I find you’ve held something back, I won’t hesitate to take this little bonus away from you.
” She taps the screen, pointing out where she’s given herself that option. “Well?”
I enter the details of a burner wallet into Pactum, seal the contract, and spin the screen back to her side of the table. No petulance in the motion. None at all.
“Show me downstairs.”