Perion Synthetics (35 page)

The chief’s voice faded out under the haze
brought on by the pills; Joe had been in too much pain to refuse his. The haze
turned to fog turned to darkness, erasing all memory of how he made it back to
his room.

It was the sound of a helicopter making a
low pass around the Spire that woke Joe the next morning. The pills were still
in his system, but waking up to the blinding sun made the pain bubble up
through the grogginess. Outside, a sleek, blue helicopter made a wide circle
around his apartment, its tail fin masked with the likeness of Governor Howard.

On the nightstand, Joe’s phone buzzed. He
snatched it up and found he had five missed calls, all from Gantz.

Joe pressed the answer button and said
hello, setting off another series of pinpricks in the back of his brain.

“They fucking did it,” whispered Gantz.
“They brainwashed that girl. Kessler just stopped me in the hall and told me
they are waking her up this morning. And get this, Joe… it was almost like Kessler
was amused by it.”

The headache pounded.

“So it’s too late,” said Joe. “There’s
nothing we can do for her now.”

“The hell there isn’t. I just got word from one
of my contacts on the outside that she’s with Lincoln Continental out of Umbra.
We found nothing on the grid to back that up though, but Jesus, do you know
what kind of shit storm it would create if it’s true?”

“You saying we need to get to her first?”

“Yes, but even that depends on how scrambled
she is. If the script Kessler gave me is any indication, they did one hell of a
mindfuck on her.”

“All of our minds are fucked,” said Joe,
pinching his nose. “I can be down there in ten minutes.”

“What? No. You stay out of this. If people
see you poking around, they’ll go straight to Synth J. I’ve got to keep this
low profile. And besides, there’s something else you should be worrying about.
Turn your vidscreen to channel twenty-sixteen.”

Joe pointed the remote at the vidscreen and
turned it on. He typed out the number with his thumb.

“It’s asking for an access code.”

“Zero eight, one eight, eight two,” said
Gantz.

The feed flickered as Joe entered the
password, dissolving from one corrupted image into another. Finally, it settled
on the conference room on seventy. Only one of the nine chairs was occupied; a
brooding Sava Kessler sat with her phone in her hand, her face blank and cold.

“Sava’s not sticking around to see the aggregator
wake up?”

Gantz coughed. “I guess she doesn’t like to
get her hands dirty. Send in the chief to deliver some bullshit story about a
car crash.” His sigh sounded distorted through the phone. “Maybe I could get
Cam into Medical, show this Cynthia woman a friendly face. They all know each
other in the media houses, right?”

“Is that her name? Cynthia?”

“If it wasn’t before, it is now, according
to my script. It’s been difficult to get confirmation; Umbra is a black hole of
surveillance, even for Vinestead.”

“I thought that was true for my dad’s
conference rooms.”

That made Gantz chuckle a little. “Someone’s
always watching, Joe. For the right price, you can watch too. You don’t want to
know what I had to promise Deborah to get access to that feed.”

On the screen, Sava perked up. She smiled
like a synthetic as she rose to greet her guests.

“They’re starting,” said Joe, turning up the
volume.

“Ping me if you find out anything. I’m gonna
see what I can do for Cynthia.”

Joe tossed his phone onto the bed as the
line cut out.

“Governor Howard? I’m Savannah Kessler,
pleased to meet you.”

The governor was a tall man, like Dad, with
a politician’s haircut right down to the slight graying on the sides. He wore a
navy blue suit with a broad tie decked out in the red and white of California’s
state flag. When he extended his hand to Sava, the sunlight caught the gaudy
chrome of his sliver.

“I assure you the pleasure is all mine, Savannah.
And please, call me Martin.”

Sava nodded and blinked away the glare from
his wrist.

“You like that?” asked Martin, pulling back
his sleeve. “That’s a Raymond Weil original. Only eighty were made in the
entire world. This is number twenty-seven.”

“It’s impressive,” said Sava. She looked to
his assistant.

“Ah yes, allow me to introduce my associate,
Lee Winborn. Lee, say hello to the pretty lady.”

“Pleasure,” said Winborn, bowing slightly.
He was a foot shorter than the governor, and though his suit was well-tailored,
he hunched over, as if under the pressure of some invisible weight.

Sava pulled her fake smile even tighter.
“Would you gentlemen like something to drink? I have coffee and water, but I
can have some fresh tea brought up if you prefer.”

“Lee, how about a cup of coffee?”

The assistant nodded and started for the
French press at the back of the room.

Joe downed another painkiller.

“Savannah, dear,” said Martin. “You look
familiar. Do I know you from somewhere?”

Sava took a step back. “I’m head of public
relations. I’m usually present at Mr. Perion’s press conferences and publicity
events.”

Martin cocked his head. “Yes, that must be
it. Strange I don’t recall…”

“Mr. Howard!” called a booming voice from off
camera.

The governor turned and shook hands with
Synth J.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” said Synth J.
“I trust Ms. Kessler has kept you entertained in my absence?”

“Absolutely,” said Martin. “Savannah’s been
a real peach.”

“Glad to hear it. Now, I know we had a
sizable agenda planned for this morning, but I’m afraid other business has come
up.”

“That’s fine. I’m here for the day. Maybe we
can meet up later for dinner?”

“Great, great,” said Synth J, looking around
the room. He caught eyes with Sava. “Thank you, Ms. Kessler. That will be all
for today.”

She had just taken out her palette; her
fingers stopped mid-keystroke.

Joe watched as her face flushed with anger.

“Fine,” said Sava, standing. She nodded to her
guests and then walked out of the room as fast as her heels would carry her.

“Lee, will you wait for me outside?” asked
Martin.

There was no look of reproach on his assistant’s
face, just steadfast compliance. Joe assumed it wasn’t the first time he’d been
ordered out of the room.

“You’re looking well,” said Martin, as he
sat down.

Synth J settled into the chair next to him.
“I feel well, thanks for noticing.”

The two men regarded each other with fake
smiles and expectant nods.

“Your intel on Calle Cinco,” said Synth J.
“How well do you trust it?”

“Not a hundred percent,” said Martin. “But
nothing is. You put your ear to the ground and hope for the best. Right now, it’s
quiet.”

“Nothing about an operative infiltrating
Perion City?”

“It would have shown up in the report,
especially if you were involved. As far as we know, Calle Cinco is laying low,
waiting for their next opportunity to hit Vinestead, not you. What interest
would they have in a synthetics company anyway?”

“I don’t know, but nothing else makes sense.
Vinestead wouldn’t dare send an augment inside my walls, not without a fully
functional Guardian Angel chip to send back whatever they discovered. So I
started thinking, where does a woman with former V-tech line up in all of
this?”

“Are we talking about a real person here?
Has there been a breach?”

Synth J nodded. “Yesterday, but it’s being
dealt with. My concern is Calle Cinco’s motivations. As you said, we’re not
their typical target.”

“I’d hate to speculate and be wrong.” Martin
rubbed his sliver with his sleeve. “Did you run her face against the national
DB?”

“We did a full run, domestic and
international, and so far we’ve come up empty. There’s no trace of her in the
system—total grid-wipe. Meanwhile, she’s got augments throughout her body and a
scar the size of my dick on the back of her neck. She didn’t simply have her GA
chip removed; it was torn out of her, grow-wire and all.”

“Sounds like something Kaili Zabora would
do.”

“I don’t think anyone really knows what
Crazy Kai is capable of, and that’s what has me worried. If Calle Cinco is
shifting their focus away from Vinestead and onto synthetics, then both of us
are going to have a problem.”

“How do you figure?” asked Martin, grinning.
“
I’m
still human.”

It felt like someone had shoved a hot spike
into Joe’s ear; he pressed it to his shoulder to stem the pain.

“For now,” said Synth J. “But once you get
my bill passed, you’ll be on your way to synthetic immortality just like me.”

“
If
I get your bill passed.
Convincing the world a synthetic can own property and run a company is a tall
order. Hell, even getting California to ratify is no small task, and we lead
the nation in tech-acceptance.”

“If you want to live forever,” said Synth J,
“if you want your family to live forever, you’ll get the damn thing passed. And
once that is done, you’ll turn the full force of the state government on Calle
Cinco. Because if Crazy Kai disrupts my business, that means you and your
family will die just as I did.”

Joe tried to swallow, but choked instead.

“What choice do I have?” asked Martin.
“You’re the only game in town, but I know I’m not your only contingency. What
other horses are you running, James? This new version of you seems to have a
knack for covering every angle. Could any of those be taken as an affront to
Calle Cinco?”

“Not on purpose,” said Synth J, looking
away. “I have no choice but to approach this from every possible angle; the
stakes are just too high. Politics are important, but the media sets the tone
of the nation. I’ve got an aggregator in town and if I can convince him
synthetics are people too, then he’ll convince everyone else. I’ll have that
story fed to every whisperer on the planet. And when you start raising support
for my bill, Banks Media will be there to back you up, because they will have
shown the world how real synthetics can be.”

Martin tapped his fingers on the table. “I’m
with you, James. I look at you even now and can’t believe what you’ve done.
You’ve changed the world, and in time, people will understand just how
important that is. But until then, they’re going to be suspicious. Aggregators
will be the worst of them all. They will absolutely see through the bullshit.
That’s their job.”

“I agree,” said Synth J. “The average
aggregator is objective and insightful, but what about when they’re not
thinking straight? What if they’re emotionally involved or, if you can believe
it,
in love
with their subject?”

“Don’t tell me…”

“With a Virgo-class synthetic, same as me,”
said Synth J, laughing that hollow, digitized laugh.

“I hope she’s better looking than you.”

“Like you wouldn’t believe.” Synth J tapped
his phone and handed it to Martin.

The governor let out a low whistle. “You
don’t have any more of these, do you? I wouldn’t mind taking one home.”

“Pass my bill, and I’ll deliver her myself.”

Martin slid the phone back. “Right. And what
about the Point of No Return?”

“What about it?” Synth J leaned forward and
folded his hands. “Do you really think you’ll have to govern California from
here? Or that I would be stuck in Perion City for the rest of eternity? The PNR
is not carved in stone, Martin. It’s just a song on the air.”

“I have no idea what that means,” said
Martin. “But I trust that you do.”

“Then we’re agreed.” Synth J stood and shook
the governor’s hand.

They walked to the door as their
conversation turned banal.

“Ms. Kessler here is going to show you
around until the press conference this afternoon. How does that sound?”

Joe could only see the top of the governor’s
head. “Works for me,” he replied. “I’d very much like to meet this… Roberta,
was it?”

“I’m afraid she’s with another guest at the
moment,” said Kessler, off camera. “But I can try to locate her and set up a
meeting.”

“Yes, yes,” said Martin. His voice dropped,
“Bring her to me!”

Laughter carried them out of the room. When
they were gone, a hiss ramped up as the microphones responded to the silence.

Joe hit the mute button and picked up his
phone.

Gantz didn’t answer.

Joe crawled off of his bed and began dressing
in the clothes he had discarded the night before. Synth J’s conversation with
Governor Howard replayed in his mind, causing an ache to push through the pain
meds. He needed to find Gantz.

He was walking into the foyer when a knock
sounded from the door. The vidscreen showed Nico standing in the hallway,
flanked by two Scorpios.

Joe opened the door to greet his assistant.

“Your father wants to see you, Joe,” said
Nico.

“He could have just called and asked,”
replied Joe.

Nico looked down at the floor. Beside him,
the AGs stood impassive.

“He’s not asking,” said Nico. “Just come
with me, please.”

“Sure,” said Joe, pulling the door closed
behind him. He smiled at the synthetics. “Better not keep the old man waiting,
right?”

Nico nodded and turned for the elevator,
revealing fresh scratches wrapping around the back of his neck.

The elevator sank to the bottom of the Spire.

Joe watched the numbers on the vidscreen by
the door decrement at a steady clip, only slowing as they passed B15. At B19,
the car came to a stop and the doors opened. In all of his years in the Spire,
Joe had never been to this floor, but he recognized the décor from childhood,
the way Mom had kept the house before she died. The walls were two-tone with a
bright silver stripe running along dark gray walls. Sconces dotted the hallway
every ten feet, radiating soft, yellow light from their bases. Framed photos
showed the Perion scientists and engineers of old, gray-haired men who had come
to the PC, worked the remaining years of their lives, and died in the service
of a dream—a dream that had been lost, defiled.