SF in The City Anthology (5 page)

             
No one certainly complained about self-guiding VTOLs, or at least no one who had ever owned one. Sitting back in the driver’s polymorph seat, Patty thought the destination, Omniambience’s studio at Ojo Negro Street
[12]
, to the vehicle. While the VTOL took off, Patty also sent a mental command to her seat, informing it to take on a heat absorbent function. She didn’t want to start sweating a lot before her big shoot.

Being a “charactor” was hard work. Unlike the actors of old, a charactor worked in the CIE (completely immersive entertainment) sector. In other words, Patty had to capture the full essence of the five senses for the people who experienced her “films.”

              The image shoot this particular day entailed a great deal of work with beasts, literally. As The City expanded its reach around the globe, wild animal and plant life became more and more scarce. One region, the Savanna, protected what remained of Earth’s organic diversity. Omniambience Entertainment had hired Patty as the narrator for their latest documentary
A Day in Life Revisited
. She had spent the last six months walking around in the Savanna, pointing at exotic animals for the cameras. Elephants, tigers, cows, all the creatures nearing extinction found their way into the film.

             
Now she needed to lend the documentary good press. While no one could deny that this charactor had the looks, everyone couldn’t wait for the moment when her good girl persona would be debunked. It was in those moments, with the stalker journalists hanging outside of her apartment, that Patty lost her faith in humanity. “That’s the bane of beauty,” Patty had told her concerned mother once.

             
Looking out her window, this charactor scowled at the part of this prefecture she had to pass to reach the studio. Amongst the prosperous, this bloated region of dilapidated housing was referred to as the Abscess. Everyone knew that prostitution, with human girls rather than automatons, illegal gambling, and spaq use were rampant in this region. Patty had once made a film detailing a tramp’s tragic life in the Abscess. She even had to put chemicals on her skin that made her smell like trash, giving the audience the full experience. Of course she never actually went to that part of town for filming. The backgrounds were computer generated, which she honestly would have preferred for her current documentary. Animals were scary and unfamiliar to her.

Arriving at the studio, Patty stepped out of the vehicle, her contacts automatically tinting in the bright sunlight. She knew that many birds liked to nest in this area, one of which loved to crap on her VTOL’s mirrors. Apparently some male birds fulfilled their territorial instinct this way, and seeing a bird reflected in a mirror set them off. At the suggestion of her mother, Patty put plastic bags over her mirrors now, which had actually worked so far.

Once she completed this chore, Patty’s agent, Saanvi Madreau, greeted her at the door and ushered her into the studio. The popular imager, Viktor Cutman, sat ready with his camera and imaging lasers, and with a thought, he turned on the speakers throughout the room, playing Glen Miller’s “In the Mood.” His needy assistant clung to him, her “Purr Suit” vibrating like a motor. Patty could see couches and chairs, upon which she would no doubt display her body. Exotic cats lounged in cages nearby. Regrettably, this was going to be a long shoot.

***

              Three hours and a zoo’s worth of creatures later, Patty found herself changing out of her last risible costume. Mentally, she activated the micro-liners in her ears, which started playing Paul Matchling’s Wurlitzer performance of Shostakovich’s “Tea for Two.” Leaving the changing room, she jumped as the documentary’s film editor took her by the shoulders violently.

             
“I would rather not have you touch me like that!” Patty pushed the man back.

             
“Miss Plattson, don’t you recognize me?” the editor, whose name was Aoto Frolov, seemed genuinely hurt by her reaction.

             
“Of course I do,” Patty responded harshly. “What do you want so badly?”

              “I discov…” Aoto motioned for her to move closer, and he began to whisper. “I discovered something very…unsettling about an addition to a scene the studio threw in at the last minute.”

             
“Well why would you come to me about this?” Patty had just finished an exhausting shoot, and now she had to put up with this flaky member of the crew.

             
“I believe that there is a large conspiracy at Omniambience Entertainment, and you seemed like the last person to be involved.”

             
“First, you just made the big mistake. You used th ‘c’ word,” Patty shook her head. “Secondly, I’m not entirely sure if you just insulted me or not.”

             
As the charactor began to walk away from the man, he shouted “Do you know what’s in the popcorn.”

             
She turned to look at him, a smile of disbelief on her face. “You really are crazy!”

             
“I was talking to Matt at Sovereign Cinema’s concessions,” Aoto adjusted his horn-rimmed glasses. “You know that’s where opening night will be held. He said that a new type of butter came in, and he was asked to add it to the popcorn. I convinced him to let me take some butter home, for my own use. Well I was playing around with the scene with the new addition, and the light on my monitor; I use a traditional computer system by the way.”

             
“Charming,” Patty rolled her eyes.

“Anyway, the light on my monitor reflected onto the bread I had buttered with Matt’s…gift, and the butter started to move.”

              “Mister, I think I’m going to have to report you,” Patty started to move towards the studio’s main door. “I don’t know if you’re tripping on drugs or just plain crazy, but I want you to stay away from me.”

             
“I analyzed the butter under a microscope. I also have really nice tech at my place,” Aoto said proudly.

             
“That’s very nice but…”

             
“There were nanoids in the butter,” Aoto found the shocked look on the charactor's face encouraging. “Now we both know that putting nano-machines into consumables is very,
very
illegal. I dissected one of the nanoids and discovered that it was carrying a mutated form of opsin, which it would deliver into the photoreceptors of the human eye.”

             
“Why do the eyes matter?” Patty felt more confused than afraid now.

             
“I went back to Sovereign Cinema the next day,” Aoto continued, “and I asked Matt if anything new had been happening around concessions. He pointed out that he had been asked to restock all the soft drinks with a new shipment. Apparently the high ups wanted ‘fresh’ drinks for everyone.”

             
“You think that they put something in the drinks too?”

             
“I know they did. Matt snuck me some. I would appreciate it if you wouldn’t tell people about my arrangement with Matt by the...”

             
“Deal,” Patty practically shouted in impatience.

“Upon inspection, I found nanoids in the drinks too. They were designed to invade the human limbic system.”

              “Meaning?”

             
“Have you ever heard of optogenetics?”

             
“I really don’t know anything about it,” Patty conceded. “With all the brain research Central Authority’s science division has done, I’ve come across that word in the media before.” 

             
“The general idea is that you use light to control neurons,” Aoto said. “Looking at that last addition to the film, it emitted light at a very specific frequency. I think what we are looking at here is mind control. The Studio gets nanoids inside peoples’ bodies and then controls their behavior with flashes of light.”

             
“Why create such a complicated system for control?” Patty asked suspiciously.

             
“The nanoids self-destruct after fulfilling their tasks,” Aoto pushed up his glasses again. “In such a complex web, how can I pin anything on them? I mean, the nanoids in my apartment already destroyed themselves.”

             
“So you mean to tell me,” Patty put her hands on her hips, “that you pulled me into this mess without proof to back up your claims?”

             
“Well, I did have proof, but…”

             
“I’ve listened to enough of this,” Patty pushed open the exit’s door. “If you are so sure about this, take it to the CA. I don’t have time to listen to this evil master plan crap.”

***

In all honesty, Patty’s encounter left her more rattled than she would care to admit. Aoto Frolov had always come across as…an eccentric individual, to say the least. She was certain that he harbored perverted feelings for her. Yes, she remembered seeing him around the studio with old-fashioned comic books often. He could have created this whole conspiracy in his mind, as a way to impress the object of his desire, to demonstrate his incredible capacity for finding problems in the system.

             
Or he was just an unromantic nut.

             
After taking another shower, Patty now found herself traveling to Eulalia Spire, where a new restaurant, Nourriture Incroyable, just opened. Her current boyfriend, Blathasar Agresta, greeted her after she landed and told her that their reservation had somehow fallen through.

             
“We can communicate telepathically, yet restaurants still make these kind of mistakes?” she had responded angrily. Blathasar had made the dining arrangements for the evening, so it was even easier to take frustrations out on him.

             
“We’ll hit up a buffet instead,” Blathasar said with forced energy. “Comida Ilimitada is a great place.”

             
“Sure, why not,” Patty said as he walked her to a nearby elevator. “Let’s just get there quickly. I have a headache.”

             
As chance would have it, the buffet had a large crowd that night. Some businessmen had taken up over 100 seats. Patty wasn’t thrilled that they had a twenty minute wait, but she felt better once she got some food in her stomach. Being “attractive” in the entertainment industry meant starving oneself more often than not.

             
When she had gone up for seconds, the charactor had a completely oblivious man bump into her. She presumed he must have been a “meanderthal” – someone who lived with the cyber connections in their mind to the point of losing nearly complete attention to the outside world. However, her original judgment necessitated revaluation after she saw
it
in the bowl of beef stew she had on her meal tray.

             
A small plastic note, folded like an archaic paper book, rested in her food. When she set down her tray by the churros bar, Patty unfolded and read the message as inconspicuously as possible. It said: “Meet us at the balcony now, and your loved ones will live.”

             
Within a minute, Patty had reached the meeting place and found herself face to face with the studio head, Saul Mara, and the director of
A Day in Life Revisited
, Franziska Laurent. Standing next to them was a man Patty had never seen before, with a few goons at his side.

             
“My name is Og Husher,” the man said as if reading the charactor’s mind. Perhaps he had.   

             
“Thanks for the clarification,” Patty responded.

             
“I think we all know why you’re here,” Saul said with forced regret.

             
“Well, you threatened my loved ones,” Patty said as she crossed her arms.

             
“You came into contact with the recently deceased Aoto Frolov today, and he convinced you of a conspiracy involving Omniambience Entertainment,” Og’s thin, silver eyebrows knitted in disdain.

“What makes you think that I believe him?” the charactor asked.

              “The nanotubes in your limbic system have recorded as much,” Og pulled a cigar from his jet black, synthetic leather jacket. “You might as well have posted your doubts on the mind net for everyone to see.”

             
“If Central Authority finds out that you’ve…tapped my mind, you are going to get nailed for so many civil rights violations!”

             
   “Good thing I’m the head of Central Authority’s intelligence division then,” Og held a lighter that looked traditional but had the thickness of paper. It used a special radiation emitter to start fires. He positioned the end of his cigar between the lighter’s raised covering and the heating element. With a quick flick from his thumb, the razor edged bottom of the lid cut off the cigar’s end.

             
“Just because I have, I mean
had
doubts, doesn’t mean that my mind can’t be changed,” Patty felt a lump rise in her throat.