Cyber Dreams 2.7 - Unknowns

Enjoy, everyone! Let me know if something rubs you the wrong way . . . or if you especially like something :)

-Plum

“I’m listening,” Juliet said, looking into Rachel’s big brown eyes, noticing for the first time that she had tiny secondary pupils at the outsides of her irises. She wondered what sort of functionality those added to her ocular implants.

“You should know that I’m capable of detecting duplicity, at least the blatant kind.” As she spoke, Rachel drummed the polished red nails of one hand on the table, and Juliet carefully avoided looking at it, wondering if it had been some sort of tell.

“So much for trust, huh?”

Rachel smiled and inclined her head, giving Juliet the point. “Some risks aren’t mine to take; I’d like to go with my gut feeling and offer you the operation, but my employer requires a certain level of due diligence. Don’t hold it against me?” Her tone made it a question.

“I won’t, so long as you’re honest with me as well, but I won’t promise to answer every question you throw at me.”

“Let’s start with the basics. Here’s an easy one: have you ever had any dealings with Grave Industries?”

“I almost bought one of their rifles at a gun shop. That would be the extent of it, though.”

“Good; we can’t have someone recognizing you, can we? Trevor?” She glanced across the table, and Juliet followed her gaze to the dark, brooding man.

“What model data jack do you have?” he asked, his eyes a bit unfocused like he was studying something on his AUI.

“Bio Network Solutions, um, 8 . . .” she trailed off, trying to remember the model number, but then Angel supplied it in her AUI. “8840.”

“Adequate.” He nodded. “Please have your PAI handshake with mine. I’m going to test your ICE.”

“You’re what?” Juliet frowned. “You’re going to try to hack me?”

“I need to know that you won’t fold at the first hard access request.”

“Huh,” Juliet shook her head, then subvocalized, “Go ahead, Angel. Take that smug smirk off his face.” She watched him closely while Angel complied with the request, saw his eyes narrow, saw his frown deepen as he pressed his lips together. She watched, entirely at ease, while he strained and struggled, and a bead of sweat popped into existence over his left temple and began to slide down along his jawline.

“Are you struggling, Trevor?” Rachel asked—apparently, Juliet wasn’t the only one noticing his efforts.

“Goddammit!” he said, slapping his hand on the table. “You’ve got some tricky damn ICE, Juliet. I think I’d be hard-pressed to get in even if I had on my netjacker immersion kit. Do you mind telling me your PAI model?”

“Yes. Sorry,” Juliet shrugged. “It’s mostly custom by now anyway,” she said, smiling at how she sounded like Hot Mustard talking about his truck.

“I told you,” Paul said, surprising Juliet. “If it weren’t for her being new, there’s no way she’d be ranked at E-tier.”

“What about that, Juliet?” Rachel interjected. “I’m not asking you to divulge any of your secrets, but can you tell us a little about yourself? I understand that the SOA prioritizes privacy, and I don’t want you to tell us anything that makes you uncomfortable. Still, I’d sure like to know how you learned to bypass and maintain network security the way you do. What kind of work did you do before you became an operator?”

“I have a very talented mentor, and she’s told me a time or two that I’m a quick learner.” Juliet wasn’t lying, and the tongue-in-cheek description of Angel almost made her laugh. As it was, her lips curled up in a mischievous smile.

“Very well; I’ll take that to mean you’re something of a savant?” She studied Juliet for a minute after her words, and when Juliet didn’t react, she sighed lightly and said, “Trevor, your next question?”

Trevor grunted acknowledgment and then asked, “What about your other gear? Audio and ocular implants, I’m assuming. Anything else we should know about, particularly nanites?”

“No, just decent eyes and ears. I’ve been trying to save for nanites, but nothing yet.”

“You know how to shoot? What about self-defense? Had any fight training?”

“Yes, I can shoot, but I wouldn’t call myself an expert. I’ve been studying mixed martial arts for a little while . . .” Juliet didn’t want to tell them she’d only been at it for two months, and she knew she was better than most people with that much time in the sport, so she tried to keep it vague.

“Any qualms about violence?”

“Qualms? Can you clarify the question, please?” Juliet uncrossed her legs and sat up straighter, pulling her chair closer to the table.

“I mean, could you kill someone if you had to?”

“If I had to. I’m not looking for that kind of trouble, but I’ve had to pull the trigger before.”

“That’s what we learned in our background check on your operator ID,” Trevor nodded. “I’m glad you didn’t try to dissemble.”

“What are we doing here? Playing a game of gotcha?” Juliet directed the question to Rachel, her eyebrows drawing together in a sharp V.

“No, Juliet. Please bear with Trevor; he’s almost finished with his questions.”

“Are you opposed to having augmentations done to you? Cosmetic or otherwise.”

“I . . . I’m not opposed in principle, but I won’t sign any blanket agreements. I’d need to know about anything being done and approve on a case-by-case basis.”

“Paul,” Trevor said.

“Juliet, we will need to tailor a comprehensive false identity to you. We have the basis of it already complete; we just need to connect your physical and biometric data to it. There’s the question of spoofing your DNA—we don’t want Grave to find an old sample of yours in any security databases; it would blow your cover and ruin the op. Do you understand what that entails?”

Juliet frowned, glanced at Rachel, and said simply, “No.”

“Well,” Paul said, folding his hands and leaning toward her, so his elbows rested on the table. “This is the most difficult hurdle when it comes to getting you ready. We’ve allocated a large percentage of our operation’s budget to it. Hiding someone’s DNA isn’t trivial. We’d need to replace your hair; the easiest part, really—we’d just give you a synth flesh scalp with new synth hair already installed. We’d need to remove most of your other body hair, and we’d need to graft synth-flesh into your cheeks to counter the, almost guaranteed, cheek swab they perform on intake.”

He paused, looking hard at Juliet as if to gauge her reaction, then continued, “We’ll have to install some synth-glands in your mouth to wash your DNA out of your saliva and release the false ID’s DNA. We’re reasonably sure they’ll do a blood draw as well, so we’d need to install tailored nanites in your arm—a tiny, purpose-specific nanite battery and swarm—to alter your blood in a similar fashion. It would only work for short periods in a localized manner; it would be too invasive to alter all of your blood all of the time.”

He glanced around the table as if waiting for anyone else to step in, then said, “Depending on your PAI’s capabilities, we might need to install a co-processing node with the nanite management software.”

Juliet’s mind was reeling. The alterations he’d listed weren’t insignificant; they were talking about some pretty major changes, but it also meant she’d be gaining the ability to fake her identity far more thoroughly than Angel could with simple data manipulation. How did she feel about losing her hair? She knew, academically, that it would be indistinguishable from human hair, that her synth flesh scalp would perfectly match her skin, but it still seemed like a lot.

She wasn’t sure why she had qualms; she’d been willing to give up her eyes. What about the synth flesh cheek grafts he’d mentioned? Did that bother her? These questions ran through her mind, along with a hundred more, but in the end, she decided it didn’t matter. She’d still be her, and they were minor, cosmetic things that wouldn’t even change her appearance if she didn’t want them to. Suddenly she smiled, wondering if the synthetic hair’s color would be programmable.

All three of the suits were staring at her, and she had a feeling they were judging her, measuring her respirations, watching her perspiration, timing how long it took her to take it all in. “That doesn’t sound too terrible. Will your budget allow for any more augmentation if, for instance, my PAI is capable of running the nanite software?” She forced herself to breathe, picturing herself in the dojo, visualizing her heart slowing down, imagining cool air blowing through her hair, down her neck.

“If we decide you’re the right candidate, we’ll consider everything we can to increase the likelihood of your success,” Paul replied, nodding, not at her but across the table to Rachel.

“Let’s talk about the op,” Rachel said, drawing Juliet’s attention back to her. “Grave makes weapons. They make combat gear, and they make combat cybernetics. Our benefactor has learned, through various sources, that they’re testing some new tech and will be hiring people in Phoenix for the pilot program.”

“And you want me to get hired.” Juliet nodded, trying to give the impression that it wouldn’t be a problem.

“Exactly. The main hurdle is that we don’t know what the program will entail, so we don’t know the best way to prepare you. That means we’d need you to be ready for anything. They may have new weapons they want to train you on, or it could be new cybernetics they’re evaluating. There’s the outside chance that this is a program for their relatively new pharmaceutical division; they could have new combat stimulants or something similar, though it’s unlikely they’d hire new people for such a field test.”

Juliet asked the obvious question, “Why would they hire new people?”

“Perceptive. The reason our employer is interested in this particular program is likely the same reason they’re hiring a new team for evaluation; it may be something that upsets the status quo, something trained Grave combat personnel would have difficulty utilizing.”

“Or,” Juliet said, narrowing her eyes, “Something they don’t want to risk their trained personnel with. Something they can test on expendable, low investment, new employees.”

Rachel sighed and looked from Juliet to her colleagues, perhaps hoping one of them would intervene. They sat stoically, though, Paul staring at his data cube and Trevor brooding, not making eye contact with anyone. “It’s true, Juliet. One of the reasons we’re offering sizeable bonuses on this long-term operation is due to the high risk factor.”

“But . . .” Juliet prompted, then after a moment of silence, she said, “There is a but, right?”

“But,” Rachel replied, nodding, her eyes narrowed in determination, “if you complete the assignment, and there are any augments you’re unhappy with or side effects that you’re experiencing as a result of your efforts, our employer is prepared to spare no expense to remedy things—to make you right.”

“And if they want me to do something that I can’t abide by, and I walk away?”

“You’ll receive twenty-five percent of your initial one hundred k payment upon completion of our insertion preparations. Should you fail to be accepted by Grave, or if you leave before you deliver any intel, that money is yours to keep.” When Juliet nodded, Rachel frowned and added, “That wouldn’t be ideal, Juliet; we’d lose a sizeable investment in your false ID preparations, and it would negatively impact your reputation.”

“Right,” Juliet returned the frown and said, “I’m not trying to think of a way to game this situation. I want to do the job; I want to succeed.”

“Good,” Trevor said, shifting to look at her more directly. “We want you to, also. Grave Industries is rumored to be pushing the envelope with some of their R&D, which wouldn’t be a problem if they didn’t have contracts with some very disruptive, amoral corporations that influence substantial population centers.

“It’s also possible that they’re simply building up a new “conflict team,” as they call them. A portion of Grave’s balance sheet is comprised of units that work as mercenary corpo-sec, showcasing their latest tech and working to cross-sell the equipment they use.”

“And if that’s the case?” Juliet asked.

“In that case, we want as much information about their operations as possible—the equipment and pharmaceuticals you’re issued and their command structure. If you can plant some daemons inside their secure networks, that would be bonus-worthy.”

Rachel cleared her throat and said, “I think that about wraps up this part of the process, Juliet. We’ll be in touch, one way or the other. Please don’t forget about the NDA you signed; I’d hate for you to wind up in any trouble. Before we end this meeting, do you have any further questions?”

Her abrupt wrap-up almost startled Juliet, but it had created a question in her mind, “Do you have any sort of time frame for when this might happen? Do you know when Grave is going to do their hiring push?”

“It would be soon, Juliet. If you’re interested in this operation, please don’t leave town,” Trevor answered.

“How long will it take you all to, you know, modify me to pass the ID screening?”

“A day of surgery and a few days to recover. We’d house you downtown; we have a team setting up a surgical suite right now.”

Juliet thought about it, thought about all she’d learned, and, while she found the operation very intriguing, exciting, even, she also thought it sounded hazardous and a little bit scary. She decided she’d be fine either way—if they offered her the job, she’d give it a lot of thought, but if they didn’t, she’d be fine just doing her own SOA gigs.

That in her mind, she pushed her chair back and stood up, saying, “It was nice to meet you all. I’ll look forward to hearing from you. Please do let me know if I don’t meet your criteria; I’d like to know when I can leave town.” She said the last with a wink directed at Trevor.

“Very good,” Rachel nodded, also standing. Each of the suits offered her handshakes, and she felt a lot more confident squeezing their soft hands than before; she was someone who worked for her money—these suits needed her, and they better damn well appreciate her hard skin and firm grip.

When Juliet stepped out of the office building into the bright sunlight, she strode toward Hot Mustard and his little blue truck with a broad smile. She didn’t know why, but she felt proud of herself, proud of how she’d held up to all that scrutiny and proud that they’d been interested in her at all. She knew Angel was a big part of it, but Angel wasn’t the one who had to stay cool in there, wasn’t the one who had to answer all those questions. They were a team. “Hey, Win,” she said, “looks like I didn’t need overwatch after all.”

“Well, if it made you feel more confident in there, I’m happy to waste the hour.” He grinned, still leaning against his rear fender, still holding onto his vape.

“What is it?” Juliet asked, squinting into the pale blue sky, “Lunchtime? C’mon, let me buy you some food, at least.”

“Now you’re speaking my language. How about a burger? I know a place that mixes the proteins just right—tastes like a good old burger like my uncle used to make.”

“Like real beef?” Juliet asked, opening the passenger door.

“Oh yeah, and the mayo tastes real, too—decadent.”

“Sure, if that’s what you want, I’m happy to give it a try.”

After he’d climbed in and started up the truck, Win asked, “So? You seem to be in a good mood; they offer you the gig?”

“No, they were playing their cards pretty tight. They acted like they had other candidates to consider. I guess I’m in a good mood because I feel like I asked the right questions and had good answers to theirs. I’ve decided I’ll be happy if they offer me the job, but also just fine if they don’t. I’m not a hundred percent sure I want to do it. Does that make sense?”

“Sure it does. I suppose you can’t tell me the specifics, but did it sound dangerous?”

“Yeah, I think so. It sounded iffy in a lot of ways. It also sounded really exciting,” Juliet laughed as she said the last part, reaching over to squeeze Win’s shoulder in her enthusiasm.

“Exciting is good, but it can also be bad; we humans have a habit of doing stupid things if it’s fun enough. You know what I mean?”

“Yes! Like driving way too fast—C’mon, Win, let me see what this thing can do after this light.”

“Oh? You wanna see what this old girl’s hiding under the hood? All right, all right,” he chuckled as they pulled up to the red light. “Let’s see, any corpo-sec lurking around?”

Juliet felt giddy, like she’d just finished an important exam and didn’t have to worry about studying for the rest of the semester. She looked out the rear window and saw the cars starting to line up, “Just regular folks behind you.”

“All right,” Win said, looking left and right, “Don’t see anything obvious; here we go, Jules. Hold on tight!”

Later that afternoon, after Juliet had bought Win lunch and spent most of the conversation over their meal profusely apologizing for the speeding ticket a drone had sent him, even going so far as to offer to pay for it, he dropped her off just outside the trailer park. As she stepped out and closed the door, she leaned back through the window and said, “I’m really sorry, Win! I can’t believe that drone got you so quickly. You only stomped on it for a few seconds . . .”

“Well, in the drone’s defense, ma’am,” he said, purposefully thickening his southern drawl, “I did get this old girl up to around one-forty.”

“I think you mentioned that. A few times.” Juliet smiled and thumped the truck’s roof. “Don’t worry; I’m suitably impressed. Maybe we can go out to the ABZ sometime and see what she can really do?”

“Hoo, now! Are you inviting me and my truck on a date?” Win smoothed his hair back while he spoke, his grin widening. Juliet found his mannerisms endearing, but she wasn’t sure she was too fond of his pink hair. Still, she smiled and shrugged.

“I guess we can see what it turns into.”

“Well, if we’re going out to the ABZ, let’s make it a picnic and bring our guns; I can use some target time.”

“Oh!” Juliet’s eyes widened, and she leaned even further forward, practically sticking half her body through the window. “That sound really fun. Can I try your big rifle?”