Deep Yellow (7 page)

"... or technical
issues?"

Williams waited until
they had finished each other's sentences before replying.

"There are bound to be
some small technical issues, normally happens, but the tech people
are all in place. We are using a mixture of soft and hard
holographic technology to cut costs. Loads of cheap utility robots
have been remodified and the expensive intelligent bots are only
being used for security.”

“The contracts?”

“I've just arrived
from Crin. I spoke to all the challengers there, and the Overseers
have signed the contracts. As you know the Sanctuary signed their
contract last week via beam signatories, they were very amenable.
We are set to start in four weeks."

Williams expected the
next question. He let the silence hang in the air.

"I presume ..."

"... you are happy
that there will be no repeat of the problems with No Win?"

Williams shifted in
his seat. "Yes. The challengers will be accompanied by Prison Corps
officers when being interviewed, but are free during the challenge
itself. In fact the Corps guards presence will add a ‘danger’
element to the show.” Williams paused for a moment and as there was
no response, he continued.

“The challengers on
this show are much better than the previous ones; less violent and
more intelligent. You made a good choice. Now that I have seen them
personally and examined their background history, I believe that
they all have something to offer. We have the ‘powerful but
innocent’ man, addicted ex-Police Corps, a loser, a typical thug, a
murdering nun, etc. The viewers will love the different
characters." Williams looked for a sign that his flattery had got
him somewhere. Slight smiles appeared on their lips, so it must
have worked.

"The clues and the
locations of the keys and rooms ..."

"… have you told
anyone where they are?"

"I am still refining
the clues. I'm working on having a link to prisons and execution,
that sort of thing."

"Well when you have
selected the clues ..."

"... let us know. What
if something happened to you?"

"I will record the
information, don’t worry," Williams said, affecting his practiced
smile.

"Please see that you
do."

There was a short
cough-like sound behind Williams. He turned to look at the four
assistants standing next to each other. Had they been there all the
time?

Ayleth glanced over
towards one of the assistants and nodded. Williams knew that the
twins had advanced implants, allowing them to interact by thought
with their assistants. He had tried it, but didn’t like it. Once,
when his thoughts had strayed during a boring meeting, a pleasure
holo appeared behind him, to the laughter of his colleagues.

"We have a wonderful
solid team in place, thanks to your backing. We will get busy
living rather than getting busy dying," Williams said finally.

The twins just stared
at him, confused.

"I, um, it’s an
expression on Inhab-47"

"Were you ..."

"… down there a bit
too long?"

Williams considered
that an attempt at humour, so he laughed slightly.

"Well thank you Soward
..."

"… we will see you
soon in the studios. We are travelling back to Elytia shortly, but
will return soon."

There was a pause,
which he took as a signal to move on. He stood up, the seat faded,
and he walked towards the door. The assistants had reformed by the
twins’ desks. The female ones were with Mayleth and the males with
Ayleth. Talk about straight-laced. They must have been a right pair
in school, if their parents allowed them to go, that is.

He had long got over
his disappointment that the twins had decided to set up offices
here by the studios rather than staying back on Elytia. They would
get in his way, no doubt, but it was their credits, after all.
Williams begrudgingly gave them that. If they hadn’t financed
Challenge, he would still be turning out rubbish like “Who Should
We Execute Tonight?” and “It’s an Interplanetary Knockout.”

Time to check on the
studios and Holo Worlds before the journalist's visit.

The limousine swooped down into a lower lane in
readiness for parking. Elytia Old Town was exactly that; where the
original city had first developed. Its dull brown river weaved
around the hotchpotch lines of ramshackle buildings and dwelling
pods. The colours of the letters in the holo advertising blocks
were faded and blinking. After centuries of building and expansion,
it had become the place to avoid. No quaint old place to visit for
the history books, it was where the deadbeats, failed gamblers,
drinkers, tech heads, drug inhalers, and addicted Deep Yellow users
ended up.

Police Corps tried
their best to keep things in line, but often gave up. Once, they
implanted a convicted thief with a tracker and happy serum, then
sent him into an intox drinking shack. By the end of the morning,
he returned to the Corps HQ planted with false information. It took
excited Corps investigators days before realising they were being
duped.

Ayleth and Mayleth
stared out of their windows with disdain. It was a long time since
they had left their bubble of existence in the Platinum District
and beam studios. Ayleth mumbled something about why the meeting
needed to be held in person and not on holo stream. Mayleth turned
up the scent diffuser. It was raining, dreary and overcast, the
dark buildings adding to the gloom. People in dowdy-coloured
clothing sauntered or shuffled along whilst ancient anti grav
sleds, stacked high with impossibly balanced goods, slowly slid
along. All the community viewing screens were covered in glowing
graffiti.

The limo came to a
halt as the security officer announced that they had reached their
destination. After performing a quick-scan, she got out of the
limo, walked around to the rear door, and nodded at the blacked out
windows. Ayleth pressed a beam button, sliding the door open, and
together they were swiftly escorted across the walkway and into a
restaurant. Mayleth held her nose the whole time.

Robo chefs and waiters
flew back and forth, as a holo Maître d' worked the tables. Steam
and smoke swirled up from the cooking decks. The security officer
led the way past the tables, casting her eye on the scanner every
few steps, then along a narrow corridor and through a door that had
slid open.

The large, oval-shaped
room was sumptuously fitted with red carpet, wall panels,
tapestries, and old wooden furniture, all inlayed with fine white
motifs. Embedded within the room were code jammers, stunners, tech
weapons, and ex-military holo assistants. The twins stopped just
inside the room. They could not fail to notice the smartly dressed,
obese man sitting on a tall red lined couch at the end of the
room.

The Tinker.

He sat upright looking
directly at them with his small, dark blue eyes, plump cheeks and
three chins. Wearing a three piece suit, he sucked at a small pipe,
the smoke wafting and curling around his face before being drawn up
into the ventilation system discreetly behind him. It was silent
except for the loud tick coming from a large antique clock.
Standing in the shadows to the side was a short, balding man who
held and scrutinised a double page holo pad.

The Tinker rested his
pipe on a small pot on the couch beside him and focussed back on
the twins.

"My dear Mr. and Miss
Lkardis," he extended the “is” like a hiss, "it is good to see you.
Please, take a seat."

He motioned to two
plush seats, placed a discreet distance in front of him, outside of
his invisible security field.

"If I recall, our last
bit of business went well." He paused, studying their faces, then
continued. "So, your show is starting soon, is it not? Lots of
gambling opportunities, I believe?"

"Yes, it starts in
just over a couple of weeks ...”

"… everything is
organised, we are ready."

The Tinker looked from
Ayleth to Mayleth as they spoke. His smile did not quite match his
eye contact. "And the gambling opportunities?"

"We predict that it
will become popular."

"It is being beamed
and streamed Association-wide. Maximum exposure, advertisers are
onboard. It’s a challenge show which ..."

"Yes I am aware of the
show," the Tinker cut off Mayleth mid sentence.

"Now," he fixed his
gaze directly at Ayleth, "how are you going to ensure that my
challenger wins?"

"We will do all we
can, of course. Your suggestions for challengers was very useful,"
Ayleth said.

"We have the clues for
the exit keys that the challengers have to find. We just have to be
careful how the information is passed on. Many people and
organisations will be watching what we do," Mayleth said.

"I’m sure that the
funding I have provided will ensure a satisfactory result for both
of us?” the Tinker said slowly.

The twins nodded.

"We understand, Mr.
Tinker." Mayleth said.

"Good, I’m sure you
do. How is my representative coming along?"

"He is very
experienced, fully involved. The perfect man for the job," Ayleth
said.

"Good. He will give me
regular updates. Now, I’m sure that you have a lot of work to
do."

The Tinker re-lit and
puffed on his pipe whilst maintaining eye contact with Ayleth. The
meeting had ended.

Once inside their
limousine and communication cocoon, Ayleth said, "We don’t have the
clues."

"No, but he doesn’t
need to know that. We need to work on Soward."

"Mayleth, we have to
make sure this all goes well."

"Don’t you think I
know that? Whose fault is it that we have to engage with him,
anyway?" She made brief eye contact with him, turned up the scent
diffuser, and stared out of the window, relieved that they were
ascending and getting out of the area.

***

She thought back to
when Ayleth told her of his gambling problem. Despite sharing
everything with her since the womb, he had not told her about it
for some time. He had started by making small bets on the Miglaff
races, renowned for its robot jockeys. Part of the appeal were the
bizarre outfits worn by the robots riding on the back of an anti
grav sled. The unfortunate remote control operators of the sleds
had to stand on a trapdoor over a pool of hungry flesh eating fish.
Coming last was not an option. The races had become more popular
than traditional animal-based ones.

Ayleth was given full
hospitality, with plenty of intox and other substances. He would
win some bets, lose others, then started losing more, and had to
accept a credit agreement. The Tinker was more than happy to
oblige. All hell broke loose when Ayleth told her that he was so
deep in debt that the Tinker would be financing and profiting from
any upcoming beamcast shows. Mayleth promptly visited the Tinker to
discuss the matter.

"If we got some
collateral, we could pay you back over a short period at a fair
percentage rate," Mayleth said.

"No. I like the idea
of investing in the beamcasting business," the Tinker replied.

"Ayleth was stupid, he
knows that. I'm sure we could come to an agreement."

"Got any shows that
involve betting? We could come to an agreement then."

"We could look into
that," Mayleth said slowly.

"Good," the Tinker
puffed on his pipe.

As the limousine
swooped around the Elytian cityscape, Mayleth glanced at her
chronometer. It was not too late, there was enough time for a
proper session tonight with her “people”. Whilst Ayleth reduced
himself into a semi-conscious state with his sprays and potions,
she would entertain herself with a couple of her specially
programmed pleasure bots. Whom should she pick tonight? The thought
raised her spirits for the remainder of the journey.

Oblivion. Euphoric, thoughtless oblivion.
Floating free of emotion, painful memories and doubt. Detached,
disconnected, a beautiful liberation.

As Brell drifted
within her vacuum, the guards patrolled, inmates talked, autobots
swept, and daily prison life went on.

Her body was free, her
mind released, nothing mattered, the cell, and prison did not
exist. Then a slight kink occurred within the beautiful void,
colours greyed slightly. Unwanted conscious reality slowly
returned. Deep Yellow users talk of differing experiences when
coming around; for Brell it was an awareness of the weight of her
body, in particular the sense of feeling in her fingers. Brell
rubbed her hands across the stiff bed fabric, trying to remember
where she was. Within a locked bedroom in her quarters? On a space
cruiser on way back to Corps HQ after a leave period on a vacation
moon? In prison, in her cell with nothing to look forward to? With
eyes still closed, she had no choice but to allow the present back
into her mind. Prison. Mind numbing prison. She remained relaxed
for as long as possible and when real life could not be rejected,
she opened her eyes. Groggily, she got up and splashed water on her
face.

“Welcome back to the
world.” She said aloud, to her unsmiling reflection.

She sat on the privy
and propped her head in her hands. Deep Yellow whilst a wonderful
drug, it was also a curse, a ruination of many a career. As her
Police Corps instructor once said, ”As soon as you take Deep Yellow
you are on a collision course.”

***

"Good morning
recruits. This morning we will examine one of the Associations most
popular, but illegal substances, Deep Yellow." The class instructor
said.

Brell was eighteen, a
new Police Corps recruit, and sat in a classroom with her
colleagues at the Academy.