Chapter Two, Part Three

I let my shoulders go slack. “What are you talking about? I need you.”

“Come here, bitch.” She dragged me behind a pest grill. Small skewered birds turned over the fire, dripping grease. Her hand clenched on my collar and she stepped close. “So you weren’t going to pull a vice-cop buy bust on me. With a phony Sense.”

“Why would I do that??” I looked to the vendor, but he was the lowest of low models and kept turning the spit.

Penny rolled her eyes. “I dunno, as a favor for some shitstain dealer you know.” She smiled. “Right? It’s that big paddy creep. He can’t handle a little competition.”

I peeled her hand off me, running my fingers over a thin bangle on her wrist. A washer from a ball joint. Her fingernails were painted black. Short, but just long enough. She was an engraver. “Let me go.”

“So I was right.”

“How did you know?”

“A lot of people underestimate me, Grace, but I hoped you wouldn’t.”

“Okay, listen. I was asked to do that, like you said. And I considered it. But I came here to meet you and find out.”

“Find out if you should fuck me over.”

“What would you do? I was asked for a favor. We can’t be friends, just because I heard him out? What city do you think you’re living in?”

“Friends, eh?” She gave me a little shove. “Alright. Tell me what you’re down here for.”

“Can we get away from the heat, first?”

“Oh.” She moved aside for me. “Sure.”

I looked back at the fountain. The kids were watching intently. “You protected me,” I realized.

“They wouldn’t get it. They’re kids.” She lit up a cigarette. “Animus is a sunner club. You don’t come here for anything. You’re here about the killing, aren’t you?”

“You’re sharp.”

“You’re transparent. You need some refreshers.”

“I may have been away for a long time, but this is still my home.” I pulled my own and she lit it for me. She watched the flame waver before closing it. “I want this dealt with. I want the AMU out of it. I want Animus clear of suspicion.” I paused. “Ewan told me something when he gave me the job.”

“I knew it was that trash.”

“He told me your boyfriend knows someone involved in the attack.”

Penny glared at me and poured smoke out her teeth.

“I know what it’s like here, I’ll leave him out of it. But I need to contact that engraver.”

“DH doesn’t have anything for you.”

“Do you?”

She shook her head. “You just have no idea how much trouble you are. You might as well be a cop.”

“I want what’s best for this city.”

“You do not. The people you work for hate this city. You had to give Redmond up to be part of that.”

“No one else with my resources will manage this better. Animus is expanding. You said we’re a sunner club. That’s the truth. But you have to see that we’re worth more than that. We’re working against the AMU. And with the massacre, we can start to focus on Redmond’s issues. This place is going to be in the news for what happened. AMU oversteps. Police brutality. Maintenance issues; I’ve never smelled air this polluted. And there’s plenty of androids here for Animus to focus on. Redmond isn’t a void, it’s a solar block. The foundation of America. This place matters, and soon, people are going to see that.”

“Where were you all last year when they torched the Downs? What did Animus have to say about that? Eighty people put out on the street for living in the same building as a nessie operation. And now you’re trying to tell me you want the best for us?”

“I’m doing what I can. I’m trying to help you avoid another disaster like that.”

“‘Doing what I can.’ You know Redmond has the largest population of frankies in the country, right? And you only show up now? This pisses me off. You’re helping yourself, not us. Not that little brown boy, not all the poor oppressed masses of plastic.”

I wanted to sit down, but Penny already had a few inches on me. As I straightened up, a squeezing pain hit my throat like I’d smoked a whole pack. I fell back against the wall, hacking.

She looked me over calmly. “You need a hit.”

“I don’t use,” I wheezed.

“You’d better start.”

My hand flew to my chest, the plastic case in my breast pocket. “Just give me a minute.” I looked around me, and found a dead planter to sit on. “God damn it.”

Penny sat down beside me. She put her hand on my back and I flinched. “Relax.” She leaned over and met my eyes. “You should really jet. It’s bad. I can comp you one.”

“Just give me a minute.”

She shook her head and took another drag. She had another look at me, then dropped the cigarette and crushed it under her boot. As Penny rubbed circles between my shoulders, my breath began to slow and pull deeper.

I shrugged her off. “I’m okay. I feel like a fucking idiot, but I’m okay.”

“Nothing to be ashamed of, Grace. I’ve taken more people with Baron’s seriously than I have people without it.” She hopped up, driving the point home anyway that she was stronger than me. “You wanna know something? I idolized you. Before you came by here.”

“Sorry to disappoint.”

“It’s not all gone. Harsh reality, right? I was in love with a legend.”

It didn’t help much, but I gave her half a smile.

“I want you to do something for me. Show me you can commit, and I’ll give you the name. The engraver you want, and what I know.”

—

Fountain Towers looked like my old building. The same corporate architect, the same flickering fluorescent rods strobe-lighting the lobby and halls. Penny called the elevator.

“It may work today, who knows?” she said.

“My elevator smelled like piss. I used to take the stairs whenever I could.”

“Same here; welcome home.”

Our light blinked on and the doors opened. Three kids in dark primary colors ran out, weaving around and between Penny and me. We stepped in. Penny’s nose wrinkled up and she hit the sixth floor.

“So what can I do for you?”

She had her face turned toward the screen in the wall, which had a missing poster for an android. Reward of five hundred dollars. A desperate measure. “Ewan sent you to the wrong dealer. I want you to go bigger.” At her apartment, she bumped her hip against the reader, which grabbed her Sense data and snapped the door open. “The big one.”

“The big one.”

She pulled me inside and closed the door before speaking again. “He lost sight of the greater good. Nessie’s a lifeblood here, but it’s also big business. Normal people like to jet, too. Even kids like to jet, if you teach them right. Like this guy. Big business.”

“So you want to take his place.”

Penny shook her head. “I don’t have time for that. Besides, I don’t want to deal with his kind of customer. There’s a lieutenant in the pipe. Boy from school. I know he’ll do better.” She moved aside and I saw her apartment. Two androids draped over a table. boxes everywhere, filled with pins and meters. A large bed with rumpled sheets, and a man’s clothes shed on the floor. The carpet was dirty, and littered with papers and loose pins and sheaths.

“I knew when I saw your nails,” I said.

“Android repair is the thing in Redmond. People bring their goods to me from Atherton. Sometimes I get out there, even.”

She was obviously an engraver, but kept it tight. I asked anyway. “You have any projects going?”

“Just business as usual. Repairs, firmware upgrades. I’ve got a little side business making hands.”

“Hands!” I exclaimed, impressed.

She smiled. “Check it out.” Navigating through the clutter, she said “Don’t look too close.” I tried not to, but saw the dozens of nessie cartridges piled up at the side of the bed. She opened up her closet, which had a small workbench inside. “This is my new model. Articulate, soft. You know the feeling when you shake a low frankie’s hand? This is the solution.”

I held the hand in mine. It was soft, and almost warm. The back of it was still open, showing off the elegant circuitry and mechanics inside. “This is really something.”

“Thanks,” she blushed.

“And you haven’t gotten offers?”

“No offers, they just steal the shit. A company like Grady finds a frankie with my hands, they’ll just take them off and try to reverse-engineer the design. So I get about a year out of each sculpt. Keeps me busy, I guess.”

“Level with me, you don’t have any other projects running?”

“You don’t know when to quit. I’m all licensed. When I was a kid, sure, I fucked around where I wasn’t supposed to. I’m smarter now.”

This was DH’s apartment, I realized. Half the stuff must be his.

“I just kind of miss it.” I picked up a lifesaver pin. Read the tiny circuit on the head.

Penny’s balcony glass door was jammed up somewhere. She slid it partway open, wedged herself into the doorway, and shoved with her whole body, making enough space to step through. She lit a cigarette. “You ever think about doing anything besides dopps?” she asked through the glass. “Or was that your only passion?”

“Once I found that I could do it, I didn’t want to stop. If I were to start up again…I don’t know what I would do. I don’t think I would work on dopps anymore. Five is enough. I just didn’t feel it back then.”

“I tried it once. A true dopp, built after someone I knew. The cops found her after a couple days and scrapped her.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Learned my lesson.”

Her kitchen was even messier than the rest of the place. Only a few breaks in the layers of components and cables. “Is it true about nessie? It’s the best treatment?”

“So far. Cheapest, easiest to make, easiest to take. What meds do they have you on?”

“Redouse. Vitamins, immunosuppressants.”

“Okay. Redouse, that’s a nestraphozan precursor. The idea is it turns into nessie when you need it, but, you know it doesn’t do that. It works enough that you can’t say it doesn’t, but for an attack, it’s garbage. Your emergency hypo, that’s basically filled with heroin. People die from overdoses from those all the time, just officially it’s a death from a Baron’s attack. Safer to jet every day than risk that stuff.”

“So if you get Baron’s, you’re all set here….”

“Already got it. And I am. As long as I’ve got a supply, I’ll never get near an attack. So look,” she said, stubbing her cigarette out in a cardboard box, “I’ve got a plan. Another buy, with that Sense. Tell him you’re trying to start a private nessie club in your block. You want to be sure there’s a supply every week, so you came to him directly. Let them know who you are, and they’ll let you talk to him. This is a good fake. He won’t know the difference as long as it’s your only Sense. I’ll hold onto that for you. Still in?”

—

“His place is on Alberta. Two stops up. You’re buying two hundred units, red-grade. If he offers you a discount, take it. Less valuable for a bust.”

“I’ve got it.”

“Okay. Don’t worry, okay? Nothing’s going to happen. If he sketches out, he’ll just boot you. But you can do it.”

“I know.” We were waiting on the platform. A train was approaching.

“This is yours.”

As the doors opened, I took a slow look around the platform, and my heart caught in my throat. Swan stepped out of the train. A couple doors down, she hadn’t seen me. She was in disguise, a tan jacket and a baseball cap over a ponytail. She carried a purse, which normally she never did. “Shit,” I whispered, and flattened myself against the train. What was she doing here? “Shit.”

“What’s going on?”

“Nothing.” But I had to follow her. “I think I know that woman.”

“Who?”

“In tan. Don’t let her know we’re here.” We kept a good number of heads back. Swan was mounting the stairs to go up to the street. She was about to meet with the Sons.

Penny followed close behind. “You’ve got a job to do, remember??”

“It can wait.” She was on the street, scanning. I kept down on the stairs. People brushed past, but didn’t look at us. “She’s meeting someone.” Swan leaned up against a wall and watched people go by.

“Grace, what are you doing?” Penny hissed.

A slim android approached Swan. Thin, androgynous, with spiny hair. They went together down an alley. “Come on.”

“This doesn’t feel right.”

“Then stay back here.” I stuck to corners. Peeking around at the two of them when I could. staying out of sight. They eventually stopped at a door. The android gave Swan a warm hug. They said something I couldn’t hear. It pulled a pistol from its belt and held it out for her. Swan took it in her hand, looking at its hard, thin lines. Then, she tucked the gun into her waistband and they opened the door.

 

Chapter Two, Part Two

Jacob knelt down and took the cartridge off the ground. “Thanks.”

“Any time.”

He shook my hand, leaving the Nessie in my palm. “You might wanna hold onto this.” The crowd had dispersed, given up on the charity for the day. A few people had stuck around, but most were gone to avoid the heat. “Drew, you’re in charge, yeah? I’m gonna split. Come with me,” he said, hooking his arm around mine. Startled, but feeling safe, I let him take us down another alley. The walls were plastered with red flyers for “Chat Jazz,” apparently the hottest gynoid cathouse in Redmond. I looked up at Jacob, wondering where he wanted to take me. “What made you come down here, Mrs. Gaban? The killings?”

“The killings.”

“And who do you think is responsible?”

“Stop for a second,” I said, slipping my arm out. “I need a smoke.” The first breath made me shake. I realized how afraid I’d been facing down the AMU. “Are you really Sons of Man?”

He slipped his hands in his pockets and sat down on a bike rack. “Yes.” He saw the look I gave him, and rubbed his nose. “Are you surprised at the work we’re doing?”

“I don’t know what to think about it.”

“Do you think we had something to do with the rogue attack?”

I didn’t answer.

Jacob hopped up and motioned for me to follow. “Why did you stick up for me back there?”

“You seem like a good person.”

“I hope so.”

Sloped roofs hung over us, dribbling condensation from the routing station. “I’ve been down this alley before,” I said, reaching out a hand to run it along the wall. “Many times, actually. I had my first kiss here. Well,” I squinted, “a few blocks up. Closer to the school.” I had a last drag and dropped it in the gutter. “This place is changing for the better. I realized you’re part of it.”

“I’m glad to hear that.”

“Do you know what the Sons did to my family?”

“Of course I do. All of us know.”

“You’ve changed, that’s clear. I can’t be sure how much, but what you and those others do, that’s good news around here. So there’s your answer.”

Jacob took a quick look around, and patted the wall a few times until he found the spot. He knocked. “We’re here.” The wall chunked open. “You only answered one of my questions,” he said.

—

My nose began prickling as we got further and further down the hall, and I knew where I was. “You’re lucky I’m not a cop.”

“I wanted you to see this. A token of trust.”

“What is this place, an old gym?” The walls were covered in glass cases like the kind that might hold trophies and ribbons. Now they were filled with startup operation pages from android manuals.

“This part of the complex was a beauty parlor. Here.” He pushed me insistently through a door marked with a chalked letter ‘C.’ Seven massage tables were set up in the room, with the eighth space taken up by a cart full of meticulously sorted accupins. “The so-called factory,” he murmured, not wanting to disturb the ritual.

Five tables were occupied by androids and their engravers. Face down through the table’s cradle cushion, various states of activation. One was limp, the others twitched and breathed. The metal rasp of pins sliding into pattern pores was constant. “They work so fast.”

“Go closer and watch. They won’t be bothered.”

A rail-thin boy of about 13 lay next to his Grady and was setting out the groundwork. I saw the map materialize, jagged and branching like a river. He was engraving a warm, impulsive android, one that loved a crowd, could make the party. But with a complex flair I couldn’t read. I caught snatches of it, spotting sequences from my style, Helen’s, Said’s.

“That’s Lillard. He’s been with us for half a year now.”

“Does he live here?”

“Not here. We have homes outside, that aren’t linked to…questionable activity.”

“But you’ve taken him in.”

“Look at his eyes.”

Lillard scanned the scratched white plain of his android’s processor before each pin, which he planted every few seconds. Though his map was overly complex, the kid knew what he wanted and how to get it. His eyes were the color of rust, and in them I saw blank, serene determination. I rubbed my fingertips together, imagining that I held a sheaf of pins. I worked in my head, the slow lazy warmup. I planted a row, then diamond circuits branching off.

“He hasn’t talked much since he came to us. But this is the calmest we ever see him.”

“Has he produced a sentient?”

“No. Few of us have.”

“Have you?”

“No. It’s not the point. The point is to try.” But when we left the room, he asked. “What does it feel like?”

“At first, it’s the same. The work is the same, just pins and patterns, trimming, blocking. At some point, though, it begins to change. You start to see it as something new. For me, when I started, it was tinkering. Just an extended experiment to see what I could make happen. For lack of a better word, it takes on a life of its own. Like all art, isn’t it? You start to feel responsible for making it come out the way it wants.”

“And it felt that way when you first made Juliet?”

“I spent months refining her,” I said with pride. “I hadn’t set out to make anything like her, but she was no mistake.”

“I knew that defense was BS.”

“I wanted to believe it,” I said. “After what Harriet did, how could I not?” Down another maze of corridors. “I haven’t been to see them in a long time.” We were walking through an empty basketball court. I sneezed at the fog of dust, and it echoed. “Now that I’m older, there’s another feeling. One I didn’t recognize before.”

He didn’t speak, but waved me on.

“Back then, I enjoyed the feeling of playing God. I would enjoy it now. But with sentients around, it’s…well. It feels wrong, that’s all.”

“Meditative engraving is different. It’s done out of selflessness, not the other way around.”

“It isn’t different. You’ve never produced a sentient. It doesn’t matter how pure your intentions are. You’re making changes to a fully-realized person.”

“You could stop when you know you’ve reached that point.”

“But you never do know, that’s the issue, isn’t it? There’s no proof any sentient actually has sentience. There’s only a failure to disprove it. When you’re working, it’s iteration after iteration, revision and tweaking, getting it just right. But it was right the first time. Some time in the past that you wrote over. If sentience is the ultimate goal like you say, then every sentient is perfect at every invisible stage. Engraving doesn’t allow for that mindset. We don’t even know where sentience comes from.”

“I don’t have any resentment toward my engraver. I’m grateful to be alive and awake.” Jacob kicked the corner of a metal door, and pushed it open. I could hear the outside again. “This place is our secret, right?”

“Sure.” He wanted me to leave, and loomed somewhat behind me, trying to get me to shuffle out. “Tell me something. Does your church release its works? Are there dopps produced through meditation walking around in the block?”

“You do think we did this.”

“People make mistakes, Hall. I see engravers, I wonder if someone’s making a mistake. I’d rather it be that than a planned attack. Do you set your androids loose?”

“This is how we procreate. Some are sent out. Others get rewritten until they’re right. As far as I know, no. It wasn’t ours. It was an honor to meet you, Mrs. Gaban.”

—

Dieter Herzog lived in Fountain Towers. My detour with Jacob had taken me a good distance, so I hailed a bike cab to drive me over. The fountain was dry, of course, and had been since the towers were built. A squared concrete spiral climbing up to an obelisk studded with nozzles that had been designed to wave up and down. It was littered with little block rats watching a small menagerie of scrap animals they’d built. Cheap artificial animals broke in a year or so, and their processors were easily repaired by even novice Redmond hobbyists. The plaza of the Fountains was heavily trafficked, a good cover for DH’s side operation. A few food carts sizzled, along with a scarf vendor and a toy printer.

“Spare change?” Yelled one of the kids from the fountain. She wore a purple knockoff of Baird’s signature headset. Eyeglass form factor with a miniature battery and computer pack behind the ear. “Hey lady, spare change?”

I ignored them and moved on, to jeers. I stepped around a large insect-like scrap animal. There were dozens of people, and I couldn’t see DH’s girl anywhere. I turned back. “I’ve got something for you.”

The girl on the fountain kicked one of her friends gently and pointed at me. He hopped off the ledge and came to me with his hand open. I handed him a couple dollars.

This girl was clearly queen bee, so I addressed her. “I’m looking for some business,” I said.

“Let me guess, your block’s too good for nessie.”

“Do you know DH?”

“DH don’t work with dirt.”

“I heard his girl does.”

She snorted. “Who told you that, a cop?”

“Give me a break, alright? I’m hurting. I heard he’s got the best.”

“If you’re looking for the best, you can do better than three bucks, lady.”

I went digging in my pocket for more money, but I felt a hand on my shoulder. “Quit hustling the sunner, Violet.” It was the girl. Dark skin and a white jacket. A headset with a black visor that sat on her head like a comical bow. “Penny Giles. You’re Grace Nguyen.” She put out her hand. When I shook, she grabbed hard and didn’t let go. “I hear you’re trying to take me out of the game.”