CD & EA 1.21 - A New Opportunity

Hope you're having a good day! Things are moving along for Juliet. I heard concerns that she's not getting enough downtime, and I know this chapter hints at more action, but there's some training time coming.

-Plum

Honey slid into the unoccupied booth near the diner's front door, and Juliet sat across from her. The place smelled so good, and Juliet was so hungry that she couldn’t focus on much other than the odors of real food being cooked by real people. In Tucson, she’d mostly eaten processed snacks and meal bars. Even when she went to fast food “restaurants” and purchased fries or sandwiches, they were usually dispensed from an automated kitchen bot that simply warmed up pre-packaged items.

“God, I can smell real eggs frying!” she said, inhaling loudly for effect. “I think the last time someone fried some eggs for me was before my mom moved away, and the neighbor gave us a half dozen from her bootleg chicken coop.”

“Was that a long time ago?” Honey asked, and Juliet realized she’d been speaking to her like they were old friends. Something about her was just so easy and open, and Juliet felt almost like she was talking to Fee.

“Oh, yeah, sorry. Let’s see . . . jeez, I guess it’s been around five years now.”

“Well, Benji gets his materials from the ABZ, I think. There are cooperatives out there—people trying to make things work despite the lack of support from the corpo-run municipalities. I’m sure if he were inspected right now, they’d shut him down for a while, but he doesn’t care. He’s restarted this diner at least five times since I’ve known him. I think this is his third location in the neighborhood.”

“Yeah, I worked with a guy who was pretty anti-corpo. I mean, to the point that he lived in the ABZ and smoked real cigarettes.” Juliet paused and tapped the table, thinking about Mark and his weird habits. “Well, he had his own problems—addicted to his dream-rig.”

“Hah, I hear that. I try to steer away from gear and the net as much as possible.” Honey gestured to the data jack cover on Juliet’s arm in illustration. Juliet found herself self-consciously pulling her hand down to her lap. “I’m not judging, Juliet!” Honey tried to cover, “I mean, there’s gear, and then there’s gear. It’s all really how you manage it, though. You seem pretty balanced. I know some people who jack in all day and night—for their work and then for their fun. Doesn’t it feel like the corpos are trying to push us all in that direction?”

“Yeah, I guess so. I lived in a corpo arcology back in Tucson. I didn’t work for them, but, well, I guess I got sucked in by their sales pitch. I never met some of my neighbors—I think they worked from home. I mean, if you let them, the corpo would give you everything you needed in your apartment; no reason to leave.”

“Hey, Honey,” a middle-aged woman wearing a white, many-stained apron said, walking up to their table. What you two in the mood for?”

“What’s on the menu?” Honey asked in her low syrupy voice.

“The usual, and yes, we have bacon today.” She glanced at Juliet and added, “So, we’ve got bacon, eggs, pancakes, toast, and jam. All real, sweetie.”

“And coffee,” Honey added.

“And coffee, of course,” the woman said, then, again looking at Juliet, “I’m Carol.”

“Well,” Juliet said, smiling at Honey, “I don’t want to be a pig, but it all sounds good. Could I try a little of everything?”

“Sure thing,” Carol said. She turned to Honey and said, “Pancakes, bacon, coffee. Right?”

“Right!” Honey winked at Carol, and the woman chuckled and walked back toward the kitchen.

“A waitress? God, I’m too used to auto-diners.”

“Well, this food won’t taste like your usual egg-flavored protein square,” Honey laughed. “So, anyway, you’re looking for a fixer? Don’t wanna just use the job boards?”

“Oh, um, yeah, I have a job I’m wanting to put together. I have a friend who needs some help, and I kinda wanna do things right. I’m afraid I’ll get burned just hiring randoms off the boards.”

“Oh, sure, that’s smart, Juliet.” She paused, eyes unfocused for a second, and then said, “I’m sending you contact info for my uncle. His handle is Temo, and no, I don’t know what it means! He’s really good, though, and he won’t screw you as long as he knows you’re my friend. One condition, though, Juliet!” She held up her hand with one finger sticking up and waited for Juliet to respond.

“Okay, what is it?”

“If you need some muscle on your job, you gotta hire me!” Honey said, slapping her hand on the table and smiling even more broadly.

“Oh!” Juliet laughed. “No problem, Honey! That’s a deal!” They laughed, and then Carol was back with their coffee, and Juliet was too lost in the pleasant aroma of the dark, steaming drink to continue the conversation.

“Juliet, Honey has sent you the contact details for the fixer,” Angel said while the two women stopped talking to sip their drinks.

“So, you’re coming back to the dojo, huh?”

“Yeah!” Juliet tapped the folded gi on the seat next to her. “God, this coffee’s good! It’s not just the taste; it’s the smell—they just can’t get that right with the stuff they pump out in the arcology.”

“Oh, I’ve tasted some bad synths of coffee, trust me,” Honey chuckled. “This stuff’s good, for sure.”

They spent the next hour making small talk and enjoying the “real” food that Benji cooked up in his kitchen. Juliet couldn’t honestly remember the last time she’d had real bacon, but she knew she had as a child. She had vague recollections of the flavor and texture and flashes of memory of her mom cooking in the little kitchen of her grandma’s house. In any case, she enjoyed the breakfast and not just because of the food. Her instant connection to Honey and how they talked about their childhood memories or dislike of the heavy-handed corpo policies made their conversation easy.

When Honey stood up and said she had to help her auntie with some chores, Juliet felt genuinely sorry that their time together was over. Which made her feel the urge to say, “I’ll definitely be there tomorrow. Eight, right?”

“That’s right, Juliet! Come a little earlier if you’re going to change into your gi. I’ll help you with the belt!”

Juliet nodded, and then Honey was gone, walking up the street while Juliet stood outside the diner and said, “Angel, can you get me a ride back to the trailer park? Also, try to connect me to Honey’s uncle. What was his name, Temo?”

“That’s correct, Juliet. Your AutoCab is on the way.” She stood on the curb, kicking at stones, waiting for her cab when Angel said, “I have a connection; he’s using a filter so that we cannot accurately copy his image.”

A hazy image appeared in her AUI labeled “Temo,” and all she could really make out of the face was that he had dark skin, short hair, and some sort of visor over his eyes. “Juliet?” he asked, his voice deep but strangely hollow, like it was being synthesized.

“That’s right. Hello, Temo.” Juliet glanced up and down the street, making sure she was aware of her surroundings. Nobody was walking around this close to the ABZ in the heat of the day, though, and she relaxed a little, watching the cars go by.

“So? Why you calling?”

“Oh, sorry, yeah. Um, Honey gave me your number? Said you were a fixer I could trust?”

“Oh, Honey? Cool, cool. So whatcha need a fixer for?”

“Well, I need to put together a team for a job. Oh, hang on a sec; my cab is pulling up,” Juliet said. Then, as the AutoCab pulled up, she climbed into the backseat and said, “Privacy mode, cab.”

“Privacy mode engaged. I will locally filter conversation not pertaining to crimes or emergencies.”

“Uh, great.” Juliet turned her attention back to Temo and said, “Specifically, I need a face. I need someone to help me get access to . . . sensitive, highly secured . . . things.” She said, eyeing the little data cluster at the front of the cab.

“Well, I can help you. Probably. Why don’t you have your PAI send me the details via an encrypted channel? I’ll get back to you when I have a solution and after I’ve spoken to Honey about you. Sound good? I’ve got your Operator ID, so I’ll do a little vetting, too.”

“Okay, thanks. Looking forward to hearing from you,” Juliet said, and then Temo nodded and cut the call. “I thought he’d be more eager to work with me. Didn’t he seem a little standoffish to you, Angel?”

“Perhaps, though, it could be because you contacted him directly. He’ll no doubt feel better after he’s spoken to Honey about you. She’s very friendly toward you.”

“True,” Juliet said, then she had a subvocal conversation with Angel, instructing her about what to send to the fixer regarding the job she wanted to do. She tried to keep things as vague as possible without sounding sketchy, and Angel helped her to finalize the message.

That done, Juliet leaned her head against the cab’s plastiglass window and let her mind drift back through her morning. She’d really enjoyed the dojo, and she knew that was largely because of how Angel had helped her. It felt so good to get those movements so perfect and to see the respect and admiration in the eyes of the people watching her. She felt a little guilty about how it seemed like cheating, but she’d confessed—at least partially—to Sensei. It wouldn’t be smart not to use every advantage available to her, would it?

When the cab dropped her off, she meandered through the strangely serene trailer park lanes, waving to the few neighbors she saw out and about. She admired the little gardens and artistic projects some of them had going on around their temporary-looking homes and wondered if that was how neighborhoods used to feel, back before everyone fled into the mega structures where convenience was king. She was only a few yards from her own little white and yellow trailer when a deep voice said, “What’s up?”

Juliet turned to see a heavy-set man in his thirties walking toward her. She immediately felt alarmed because his eyes had a crazed look to them, darting side to side rapidly and only occasionally meeting her gaze as he approached. He wore a denim vest over baggy jeans held up by a spiked leather belt, chains dangling from it into his pockets, presumably holding items of value. He didn’t have a shirt under the vest, and his very tanned, sweaty belly protruded over his belt, hairy and dirty looking.

She backed up as he rapidly approached and said, “Hey . . .”

“You new here?” he asked, gesturing to the trailer behind her.

“Um, yeah. Are you one of my neighbors?” Juliet continued to step back as he kept edging closer. He’d had a hand behind his back, but he brought it forward to scratch at the stubble on his jowly neck, and Juliet saw one of the worst, most home-made looking wirejobs she’d ever encountered. His fingers were like articulated coat hangers, and the literal wires running from his knuckles to a big round battery mounted near his elbow looked like they’d been cut and repaired with electrical tape a hundred times.

Worse, his skin wasn’t properly grafted to the cyberware with a synth-skin layer—she could see festering scabs and puss where the plastic and chrome met the real meat of his arm. A scent accompanied his continued approach—like a rat left too long behind a dumpster. “Yeah, yeah. Hey, I’m having trouble with my bike. Think you could spare a few bits? I gotta meet my advocate in a few minutes.”

“Some bits? For a ride?” Juliet carefully exhaled through her nose and took another step back.

“Yeah, yeah. You got twenty bits? I’ll send you a ping. Hey, why can’t my PAI see you? You a spook? Corpo spook!” His eyes flicked left and right, and he jerkily scratched his neck. Then, as he realized he couldn’t ping Angel, he started to get heated, his voice rising and his lips pulling back from rotten teeth in a snarl.

“Fuck off, man,” Juliet said, turning to the trailer and stepping away. She cringed as she felt what she’d dreaded—those hard, wiry fingers gripping her arm above the elbow. She heard the man take a deep breath to say something, but he never got a chance because her trailer door smashed open, and Ghoul stood at the top step with a heavy assault-style rifle leveled at the man.

“You have until the count of two to let go of her and get the fuck out of here.”

“Hey . . .”

“One,” Ghoul said, then racked the bolt on the gun, lifting it to her shoulder and making a show of zeroing in on her target. Suddenly Juliet’s arm was free, and the man was stumbling backward.

“Crazy bitches!” he snarled and stumbled up the street. Juliet turned back to Ghoul and was a little alarmed to see she hadn’t lowered the rifle. In fact, she was narrowing her eyes and tracking his movement, clearly fighting an urge to squeeze the trigger.

“I think I should ice this fucker,” Ghoul said, barely louder than a whisper. “He’s seen our faces, and he’s nutty enough to talk about us . . .” As suddenly as she’d opened the door, Ghoul lifted the rifle barrel and slipped inside, closing the door. A moment later, Juliet realized why—Mr. Howell was approaching from across the lane.

“Juliet!” he called. “I’m sorry about Albert. He’s my nephew, and he’s harmless.” He continued to walk toward her, wearing a suit similar to the one he’d had on the day before, only pale blue, with a matching wide-brimmed hat.

“He really creeped me out,” Juliet said. “He shouldn’t go around grabbing women, well, anyone! I almost hurt him!” Juliet hadn’t, in fact, almost hurt him—she’d been momentarily frozen, trying to think of a proper response to his grip. Ghoul had, though; they’d almost had a body to explain.

“I’m so sorry, Juliet. He, well, he’s had some damage done to his mind over the years—too many stimulants and too many jobs that required surgery afterward. He used to see a doc that would put him too far under, you see? He couldn’t afford proper anesthesia, and, well, his mind just isn’t right.”

“I want to be understanding, Mr. Howell, but that was a very unpleasant encounter. My heart’s still racing! If you can’t control him, maybe you should find him a place to stay where he won’t accost people.” Juliet was surprised at her vehemence. She felt like part of it was due to her reaction to Ghoul. Had she really just about executed that man for what he’d done? What he’d seen?

“My apologies again. I’ll make sure he doesn’t come ‘round this way again.” Mr. Howell took off his hat and held it in front of his chest, smiling and nodding to her, the very picture of sincerity.

“All right,” Juliet said and nodded. Then she turned and climbed the steps to her trailer.

“Oh, Juliet?” Mr. Howell called, “I saw you have a friend staying with you. Any chance she’s moving in for good?”

“No. Just a friend. If things change, I’ll let you know.”

“Very good,” he said. “Have a pleasant afternoon.” His footsteps crunching on the gravel path between the trailers across the lane from her signaled his departure, and Juliet opened her door and stepped inside.

“Well, that sucks. Looks like we might be burned,” Ghoul said. She was leaning against the kitchen counter, her rifle still clutched in her hands.

“No, it doesn’t. Relax, Ghoul—you took that farther than needed. I was going to punch that guy out.”

“Really? That fucking tweaking gearhead? He coulda ripped your arm off with that messed-up wirejob! Did you see the size of that batt?” Ghoul sighed and tossed her gun onto the couch.

“Yeah, I mean, it was an ugly, stinky job, but I think Mr. Howell is legit. I don’t think he’d lie about that guy. You know there’s a gate guard here? Some random gearbrain isn’t going to come in here begging me for ride money. You don’t need to be so quick on the trigger, is all I’m saying.”

“That old man sitting by the gate? You know pretty much anyone or their grandma could climb the fence around the perimeter, right? God, Juliet, I know you’re new to this shit, but you can’t be so trusting, so naive!” Ghoul looked exasperated and stressed, and Juliet could see pink, damp stains on the gray t-shirt she wore over her fatigue-style pants.

“You all right, Ghoul? Hey, thanks for coming to my defense out there; I don’t mean to sound ungrateful. I’m just glad we’re not trying to run away from a dead body right now.”

That took some of the steam out of Ghoul, and she sighed loudly and nodded, “Yeah, me too. I’m glad I didn’t go with my first impulse and put a bullet through that guy’s head.”

“Okay, so, chill a little. We’re okay. I know it sucks being cooped up like this. Hopefully, I’ll be able to score you a new ID pretty soon.”

“How’d it go with your contact? You get ahold of a fixer?”

“Yeah, I did! It went really well! I’m going to keep going to that dojo, too; you’ll be happy to hear. I liked the instructor, and I seem to have a . . . knack for it.” She held up the gi she’d had tucked under her arm.

“Oh? Well, shit, now I’m going to get jealous. What did the fixer say?” Ghoul turned to pour herself a glass of water.

“He wanted to vet me a little, talk to my friend who recommended me to him. He’s going to call me soon, he said.”

“Juliet, you have an incoming call from Temo,” Angel interrupted.

“Shit! He’s calling right now; just a sec,” Juliet said, holding up a hand to Ghoul, then she accepted the call.

As Temo’s vague silhouette came into view, he said, “Glad you took my call, Juliet.”

“Of course. What’s up?”

“I need a job done in the ABZ tonight. I figured it was a good opportunity for you to demonstrate your legitimacy before we do more serious business together.”

“Uh, that sounds a little ominous. Short notice and in the ABZ? You wouldn’t be trying to set me up or get rid of me, would you?” Juliet looked at Ghoul questioningly, and Ghoul shrugged and pointed a finger at herself. “You got room for two? I have a friend who needs the work, too. She’s good muscle.”

“Muscle, hmm? Not my niece, right?”

“No, another friend.”

“All right. Send me her license, and I’ll send the contract out to you. Don’t throw shade, by the way—’course I’m not setting you up.”

“So, what’s the gig? Any details?”

“Place where some people are trying to build a commune. Raisin’ chickens and shit out in the badlands. I guess there’s a dreamer hive nearby and they’ve all gone nuts—grabbing people up and eating them or some bullshit. The commune’s backed by some ex-corpo guys, and they have money—they want a team to go in and clean out the dreamers.”

“Uh, that sounds a lot more violent than the type of job I usually like to sign up for,” Juliet said, and Ghoul stepped closer, her face a question mark. “I’m not an exterminator, especially where people are concerned.”

Temo’s image suddenly clarified in her AUI, and she could see his face without distortion—he had Honey’s pale brown eyes with the lines someone got from smiling or laughing a lot. He grinned at her, showing his white teeth, and said, with his real voice, warm and resonant, “That’s why I want you on the job. The commune is kind of pacifistic, you see? If you can solve the riddle without the bloodshed, there’s a bonus in it for us.”