CD & EA 1.28 - Ups and Downs

Seems like a slow one, but a lot's going on. Let me know if things are making sense or not :)

-Plum

Juliet sat at the little plastic, built-in kitchen table in her trailer and unpacked the new data deck she’d bought the day before. She was tired, sore, and feeling very damn good. Her time in the electronics store had been the start of a delightful afternoon and evening, and she still felt a warm glow thinking about it all.

She pulled the shrink-wrap away from the box, balled it up, and stuffed it into the bag Ghoul had designated for recycling. She ran a thumbnail through the seal, unfolding and opening the container to reveal the shiny, translucent, high-density nano-liquid display of her new Arc Systems portable processing deck. Juliet had never bought such a high-end product before, and she admired the packing—the friendly little notes to the consumer, the decals, all the accessories, and the offer for “personalized assistance” if she had any difficulties.

Juliet had paid more than she might have needed for the device—the thing had cost her nearly three thousand bits, and there were cheaper devices that did what she needed. “But this one is just so damn nice,” she said, pulling the protective film off the screen. It was more than its functionality that she liked; it was its compact nature. It was much smaller than Vikker’s cube, and Angel had told her that this new deck could do everything she needed and more. It was less than a half-an-inch thick, fit in the palm of her hand, and came with a sturdy, stylish black and gray lanyard she could wear around her neck.

The deck had ten times the memory of the one she’d borrowed, and after Angel had transferred over the files from the dreamer mission, Juliet had returned Ghoul’s. The sales lady had shown Juliet how the deck was capable of holo-projections just like Vikker’s. In addition, it had a built-in transmitter and an external battery pack that allowed for the—unadvertised—ability to function as a jammer. The external battery was solid, dense plastic and had clips for wearing it on a belt.

Angel had assured Juliet that the deck’s processor and operating system were robust enough for her to install just about any kind of program she could imagine. “Even an identity spoofer for Ghoul?” Juliet had asked, wondering if there was a shortcut to resolve Ghoul’s situation. Angel had explained that there were problems with the idea, though: mainly that Angel would have to create a significant amount of code to run on the deck and open it up to net connections, risking exposure for her. More than that, though, Ghoul’s PAI wouldn’t be capable of managing the interface without modifications.

Juliet set the deck on the charging pad she’d purchased—a placemat-sized sheet of plastic that would charge pretty much any modern device with a battery. As she worked to unwrap the external battery, her mind wandered to what she’d done after shopping—the dojo. A slow smile crept over her lips as she recalled the sword practice and the training she and Honey had put in afterward during the open-practice hours.

The sword class had been much more engaging for Juliet to watch than she’d thought it would be. She supposed part of it was because she had been thinking differently about fighting and body movements since her earlier lesson about throws. The way the five sword students moved together through their drills was almost like a choreographed dance—Juliet could tell they’d been practicing together for a long time. More than that, though, Juliet had watched, open-mouthed in amazement at what they could do—these weren’t amateurs.

Honey stood out in Juliet’s mind for her grace. She moved in a way that seemed fluid, and yet each of her cuts had been precise, and as she brought her sword through the forms Sensei called out, the blade hardly wavered as she halted its movements. Juliet had felt inspired, much the way she might have been as a child watching a professional athlete. The difference between then and now was that she felt she had a chance to reach those skill levels. “Thanks to Angel,” she said, smirking at herself.

“What’s that, Juliet?” Angel asked. Juliet knew the PAI was aware she was talking to herself, but she couldn’t blame her for wanting to know why Juliet had mentioned her.

“I’m just excited to learn more about fighting. You know, learning to move like those students I watched last night. I was kind of admitting to myself that I wouldn’t feel that way if it weren’t for you and the cheats you give me.”

“It’s perfectly normal to be more enthusiastic about things you know you can achieve, especially when you won’t need years of hard work.”

“If that was supposed to make me feel less guilty, you failed miserably!” Juliet laughed. “I don’t care, though; I want to move like they did; I want to be graceful! Especially after how fun grappling was last night!” Juliet put the—now unwrapped—battery pack onto the charging pad and sat back, remembering how she and Honey had practiced throws and escapes after the sword practice was over.

It had been Honey’s idea to work on what she called “groundwork.” After Honey’s sword practice, Juliet had described the second dreamer job to Honey in broad, general terms. When she’d gotten to the part about getting grabbed, Honey’s eyes had bugged out, and she started talking about ways she might have escaped. None of it had made much sense to Juliet, so that became the focus of their practice—what would Juliet do in such-and-such a situation?

The “situations” were different ways someone might hold her down, pin her in place, or try to grab onto her. Honey would take hold of or pin her, and then she’d let Juliet struggle for a while, switch places with her, and show her how she’d escape. Juliet thought she might have enjoyed the practice in any case, but when Angel helped her perfectly repeat the movements after a few tries, it felt a lot more fun than it probably should have.

Honey had been both impressed and dismayed by how Juliet learned arm bars, triangle chokes, guard breaks, and passes so quickly—all terms that meant nothing to Juliet a few days ago but now evoked a vivid series of movements in her mind. Juliet stretched, the stiffness of her muscles keeping the practice firmly in her mind, and when she felt her cheeks aching, she realized she was still smiling. Suddenly a creeping suspicion entered her mind, and she subvocalized, “Angel, are you messing around with my hormones?”

“Pardon me, Juliet?”

“You heard me! Are you messing with my hormones? Giving me dopamine or something every time I think about practice or exercise?”

“Juliet, I told you I wouldn’t alter you physically without your permission. Stimulating hormones would be something that would violate that promise. Additionally, while I’m closely connected to your synapses and nervous system, I am not able to read your mind. I wasn’t aware that you were thinking about practice, but I can see that you have elevated levels of serotonin, endorphins, and even oxytocin. I believe you are experiencing happiness quite naturally.”

“Huh. Well, sorry for being paranoid, but the whole dreamer situation from the last couple of nights has me kind of creeped out about that stuff. Wait, you can read my hormone levels?”

“That the deck you were telling me about?” Juliet jerked her head to the hallway and saw Ghoul standing there, bleary-eyed, scratching at the short blond hair above her left ear. She wore a t-shirt and shorts and looked ready to sleep another six or seven hours.

“Yes! Isn’t it cool? Wait ‘til you see its holo projections—they’re way higher res than Vikker’s.”

“That’ll be good for planning jobs. Small too, musta been a pretty penny.”

“Sure, but it’s an investment, right? Speaking of which, I have an appointment with that new cyber doc today. You want me to feel her out for any tech? Maybe an upgraded data port or . . .”

“Nah, I’m saving for a reflex job. A proper one, not some fucking hack like Don had done.”

“Really? Is that expensive?”

“Fuck yes. To get it done right, so you aren’t twitching and left on blood thinners for the rest of your life, you’re looking at more than a hundred k.”

“Why blood thinners?”

“Well, Don had synth fibers woven into his tendons and major muscles powered by a battery pack subdermally implanted into his gut. Every time he fired ‘em off, they tore some of his natural muscle tissue.” She yawned and shrugged, “Guess the doc was sloppy—now and then, some of the blood and tissue got into his vessels. He had to take thinners every day, which made being an operator all the more hazardous. Not like we need our blood to clot, am I right?” She winked at Juliet and lifted her shirt, showing off the scars on her belly.

“Yeah, better save and get it done right, huh?” Juliet said, shaking her head, wondering what it had been like for Don trying to sleep with those twitching, jittery muscles.

“What are you doing at the doc, anyway?” Ghoul yawned again, walking past her to the little fridge.

“I’m going to ask about some better auditory implants. Mine are garbage—they don’t respond fast enough around gunfire, and they aren’t sensitive enough to track movement and all that.”

“Cool,” Ghoul nodded thoughtfully, then glanced at her with a raised eyebrow, “You were home pretty late—I’m surprised you’re up already.” She pulled a drink pouch from the fridge. Juliet saw a banana on the side and knew it was one of their protein shakes.

“Yes. Oh, Ghoul! I had so much fun last night at the dojo. I wish I could bring you!” She watched as Ghoul took a big gulp of her shake and said, “Can you toss me one of those? I already ate, but I’m still hungry . . .” she trailed off as Ghoul started chuckling at her.

“You worked out hard yesterday, Jules. You’re gonna burn out if you don’t pace yourself. Here.” She tossed her a cold pouch of protein shake. This one had a picture of a bunch of berries on the side. “You need to feed your muscles!”

“Thanks,” Juliet laughed, ripping it open and drinking the thick, sweet contents. “How’d you know I was late?” Juliet asked after she’d gulped down half the shake. “Your lights were off, and I thought you were sound asleep.”

“Yeah, but I heard you come in. This door ain’t exactly quiet,” Ghoul said, demonstrating by walking over and pushing the door open, and letting it slam closed. It squeaked the entire way. “You know, I left my gun cleaning kit behind, or I’d put some oil on those hinges. You should pick one up while you’re out.”

“Ugh! Angel mentioned I should clean my Taipan before we go out again, but I spaced it. They sell kits, huh? Like, I don’t need something special for our different guns?”

“Yeah, just get a general kit. It’ll do for now. It’s not an emergency—none of our guns are dirty enough to fail, but keeping ’em clean is a good habit.”

“Right. I’ll leave these here to charge, but I should get going. Only reason I got up so early was ‘cause that doc wanted to see me at ten.” Juliet downed the rest of her shake and threw it in the nearly full “recycling” bag. She pulled it off the kitchen drawer knob and held it out for Ghoul. “Throw that in here; I’ll toss it on my way out.”

Ghoul grunted, chugged the rest of her shake, and pitched it into the bag. “Grab me some chips or something, will you? I’ve been craving something salty.”

“Sure!” Juliet replied, pushing the door open and waving to Ghoul as she hopped down the steps. She walked briskly up the lane and caught a glimpse of Mr. Howell standing near the corner of one of her neighbor’s trailers, speaking harshly to his nephew. She didn’t linger long enough to hear what it was about, but she hoped it didn’t have something to do with Albert lurking around her trailer.

As she neared the park’s guard station, she turned into an alcove surrounded by oleanders that housed a huge waste compactor and dumpster. She tossed the bag of plastics and paper into the compactor, watching for a minute while it swallowed and smashed the contents down into its mechanical belly. Then she hurried through the entrance walkway, waving to the guard as she passed through.

The AutoCab ride to Dr. Murphy’s office took about twenty minutes, and Juliet was relieved that the building wasn’t downtown—she still felt nervous about WBD and mysterious bounty hunters. Dr. Murphy had offices in a tall cement and glass building that had once housed suites for many doctors and dentists, but it became apparent as the cab circled for an entrance that most were vacant.

The cab dropped her off at the front, but the main lobby doors were taped-off with a sign that read, “Please excuse our dust while we renovate. The garage elevators are open for business.” Juliet looked around, noting only light traffic. She held her face to the glass, cupping her hands to see through the dark tint, and saw that the elevators inside were taped off, and the floor was in a state of disrepair with stacks of flooring tiles lined up in front of the doors.

“Alright,” Juliet said, following the arrow to walk along the side of the building toward the garage and the concrete ramp that led down, away from the sidewalk. There wasn't much foot traffic with the building so far away from downtown, near the ABZ. Still, she had to pause and wait while a legless woman on a motorized scooter slowly rolled past, staring at her through dark goggles that flickered with amber LEDs.

Something about her gave Juliet pause, and she backed up a step to give her more space. As she rolled past, and Juliet tracked her with her eyes, suddenly Angel outlined the shapes of two weapons under the ratty-looking blanket covering the back of the scooter. Little labels appeared over the outlines; one said, “Definite rifle,” and the other said, “Probable shotgun.”

The gray-haired older woman craned her neck to look over her shoulder as she passed and pursed her wrinkled lips to blow an exaggerated kiss toward Juliet, and then she was gone around the corner. “That was unnerving,” Juliet said.

“Was it her lack of legs that unnerved you, Juliet?” Angel asked.

“What? No, Angel!” Juliet hissed, walking down the sloping sidewalk into the garage. “She just gave me the heebie-jeebies! I can’t explain it. Sometimes you can just feel it when a person isn’t quite right, though, and I mean mentally, not physically! Besides, you’re the one that outlined the weapons she was hauling!”

“You’re carrying weapons—perhaps that woman needs hers for self-defense.”

“Fine, yeah, the weapons aren’t the thing that weirded me out, though. She . . .” Juliet stopped speaking because she’d heard a sound in the distance, and she wasn’t sure if her implants were playing tricks on her or if someone had just cried out for help. “Angel, analyze the audio from just now when I was speaking. Did a woman cry out?”

“I believe so, Juliet,” Angel said a few seconds later and then played the sound for Juliet. In the playback, she could hear a tire squeaking on concrete, but then the distinct sound of a woman yelling and crying out for help.

“Was that in the garage?”

“Yes, from the ramp leading up to the next level.” Angel displayed amber arrows on her AUI, and Juliet yanked her pistol free from her holster, crouching down in the dim garage and then, when she didn’t see anything moving, jogging up the rubber and exhaust-stained concrete toward the big blue “LEVEL B” sign above.

“What am I doing?” she subvocalized.

“You’re sneaking up a concrete ramp to see what caused the sound you heard.” Angel had tuned her voice down so Juliet could hear things outside her head more easily, but even so, she heard a hint of sarcasm.

“You know what I meant,” Juliet said, then focused on her surroundings. When she neared the top of the ramp, she crouched against the concrete on the left and peered around. Most of the parking spaces were empty, and Juliet didn’t see any people walking around. She skirted left around a long red sedan, wormed her way behind it, and then hugged the wall until she could look through a gap in the wall toward the next two rows of spaces.

There she saw, plain as day, two men struggling with a seemingly unconscious woman. One of the men had his back to her and held the woman’s feet; the other was grunting, holding the woman’s top half and fishing in his pocket for something. Juliet sucked in her breath and crouched down, still unable to believe what she was witnessing. Both men were quite large, heavyset, and wore matching green and black jackets. On the back of the man facing away from her, she could see a stylized rattlesnake stitched onto the fabric.

“That is the symbol for The Rattlers, Juliet, a banger gang based in south Phoenix.” Angel’s voice was calm and steady, and Juliet saw a crosshair and ammo counter appear at the center of her AUI. The crosshair was lined up where she was pointing, at the man’s back, but the lines were very wide, leaving a significant gap in the center.

“Angel,” she subvocalized, “why is the crosshair so weird looking.”

“The Taipan is a close-range weapon, Juliet. You’re not likely to hit your target with many of the needles from this distance.”

“Shit, shit, shit,” Juliet said in the back of her throat as she carefully inched her way back through the gap in the concrete wall, squatted low, took a breath, and thought about what she was doing. Was she really going to confront two bangers for a stranger? She could only see it ending with her alive if she started shooting before they knew she was there. Was she ready to execute people for a perceived crime? An image of the corpo-sec agent she’d killed two nights ago flashed through her mind.

“Juliet,” Angel said, “Your respirations are growing erratic. Please focus on taking deep, steady breaths.”

“Right,” Juliet took two deep, steady breaths, then poked her head around the corner again, watching. The two men had started moving again, bringing them even closer to her, and Juliet almost ducked back, but then they stopped again.

“Goddammit, hold up,” the further man said, then drove his hand into his pocket again, jostling the woman so she turned sideways to hold her with one burly arm more easily.

“Juliet, that woman’s face matches the image of Dr. Murphy from her business page.” Angel displayed an image on Juliet’s AUI; sure enough, the blond, middle-aged woman smiling at her looked very much like the one hanging from the banger’s arm.

“He keeps fuckin’ sending me updates,” the burly man said, digging a little data deck out of his pocket and holding it up to his face, squinting at the tiny screen. “Now he wants us to take her to the bar.”

“Bar’s closed,” the other man said.

“No shit, genius. He’s probably there in the back room—you know, where they cut Jose up.”

“Well, that’s some bullshit. Gonna take us twice as long with traffic. C’mon, hurry up before some suit comes poking around.”

“What am I doing?” Juliet asked herself again and stood up, pointing her gun at the nearest man’s back. She cleared her throat and shouted, “What the fuck are you guys doing?”

“Shit, Tor!” The man holding the woman’s top half said, dropping her to the concrete and fumbling with a stubby black gun that hung from his shoulder on a sling. Angel helpfully highlighted the weapon for Juliet in flashing red lines.

“Dammit!” Juliet cried, and then her pistol barked a gout of orange flames and launched a spray of microscopic needles.