Upgrade (77 page)

“He designed it,” she said.

“Yeah,” said Julian.
 
“Let’s go meet him.
 
He’ll be…
 
He’ll be so pleased.”

⚔ ⚛ ⚔

“You don’t have to do this,” said Laia.
 
The small room rose inside the building, sliding smooth and silent towards the heavens.

The dark man — Julian — threw her a look.

“What I mean is, some of us — we can escape.
 
It’s possible.”

“It’s possible,” said Julian, looking straight ahead.
 
“I just don’t want to.”

Laia opened her mouth then closed it again.
 
“What?”

“Kid?
 
The man has power.
 
Real power.
 
And I’m in the inner circle.
 
One of the team.
 
I’m not at the bottom rung, playing fetch quests for a bunch of geriatrics disconnected from how the world works.
 
I’m going to have
equity
.”

The city pulled away from them, falling below as the small room continued to rise.
 
There were hundreds, thousands of people at the base of the tower, his thralls, his slaves.
 
The clouds were approaching from on high, and she could see lightning walk and dance within it.
 
She shivered.
 
I know what comes with the lightning
.
 
The demon would be distracted with so many minds to tease.
 
It roiled and curled in the clouds.
 
She looked at Julian.
 
“Sometimes he makes people feel that way.”

“What?”
 
Julian turned to face her.

“He can make you think and feel things that are different.
 
Sometimes he does.”
 
Laia shrugged, then said in a smaller voice, “Sometimes he doesn’t.”

“You’re saying he’s making me want to…”
 
Julian’s hand clawed at the air.
 
“He’s making me—”

“Maybe,” she said.
 
She watched the city, buildings tiny and small before the clouds snatched them from view.

Julian cleared his throat.
 
“No one controls my thoughts.”

“Has anyone ever done something you’d think was wrong?”
 
Laia shifted from one foot to the other.
 
“Something different from usual.
 
Something
odd
.”

“What do you mean, odd?”

“Kiss a stranger.
 
Kill a lover.”
 
Laia frowned.
 
“You would know, if you’d seen it.”

“I’ve seen him use men like puppets.”

“That’s not the same,” she said.
 
“Usually, it’s just one.”

“Just one what?”

“He picks one,” she said.
 
“He picks a favorite.
 
He makes you…
 
He makes them want it.”
 
She wiped her palms against her shirt as if they were dirty.

“How do you know?”
 
Julian grabbed her arm, pulling her around.
 
She stumbled, and found herself face to face with him.
 
“How can you be sure?”

“Because,” she said, “I was his favorite.”

Something was dripping at the end of the corridor, the lights flickering between dark and
fucking annoying
.
 
Mike’s overlay slipped into infrared, cool grey washing over everything.

Footprints stamped from water were drawing a path, the painted concrete showing a pair of feet moving between a room and an elevator.
 
The elevator was long gone, but the room was right there.

The footprints were what had caught his eye.
 
He’d gone straight to the bottom of the tower and started working up — most serial killers kept their prisoners in the basement before they turned them into pale leather shoes or made a necklace from their teeth.

Whatever.
 
Basement was a good start.
 
But
shit
, Reed needed to up their maintenance program.
 
Lights out, water leaking, doors unlocked, the whole place was broken.

Good, in a way, because that’s what let him see the footprints.
 
One big set, looked like a decent pair of business soles, tracking beside a smaller set.
 
Sometimes stepping, sometimes not.
 
Here and there, the smaller set showed where a foot was dragged, or pulled.

Mike looked at the door at the end of the corridor.
 
Odds were someone was drunk or sedated or both and being dragged.
 
This being those snuff king Reed assholes, he was going with sedated.
 
Time to find out what was behind the door.

He padded up to it, his overlay tugging for his attention.
 
He let it slip to thermal, a quick scan showing him two people in the room.
 
A person standing, light upgrades, the cool lick of link hardware nestled in the back of their skull.
 
Another person, sitting in a chair, but the posture was wrong.
 
They were slumped, out cold.

The person standing was moving towards the one sitting, something held up, a tube of some kind.
 
The tube was held towards the slumped body, towards his arm.
 
Mike felt the lattice yank at him, his weapon coming up as he kicked the door open, and saw —

The kid, out cold in a chair, some kind of collar around his neck.
 
A man in a white coat holding a syringe, the needle already in the kid’s arm.
 
Machines, med hardware scattered in no real order.

The weapon in his hand barked three times as the lattice yanked his arm.
 
The man standing was caught, a round tearing through the arm holding the syringe, the second through his chest, the last shearing the top of his head off.
 
The body tumbled to the ground, the syringe clattering beside him.

“Wuzzz,” said Zacharies, a bleary eye opening.

“I don’t like needles,” said Mike.
 
“It’s ok kid.
 
Cavalry’s here.”

“Lie,” said Zacharies.

“I’m not lying,” said Mike, stepping over to turn the fallen body over.
 
The Reed logo on the jacket was stamped above a barcode.
 
Under the barcode,
PERSONAL ENHANCEMENT RESEARCH
.
 
“I really don’t like needles.
 
Do you have any idea what this guy was going to do?
 
Strip you down.
 
Find out what’s in your head.”

“Not a lie,” said Zacharies.
 
“Lie.
 
Ah.”

Laia.
 
Mike looked at the fallen body again.
 
Maybe I should have kept him alive
.
 
“Oh.”

“Oh,” said Zacharies.
 
“Sssright.
 
Find Laia.”

“She here with you?”

“Don’t know.”
 
Zacharies was trying to pull himself upright, and a hand felt up to the collar at his neck.
 
He tugged at it, his movements weak.

“Here,” said Mike.
 
He grabbed either side of the collar, trying to find the clasp, but it felt like a perfect ring of metal.
 
“Uh.
 
How’d they get it on?”

“Dunno.”

“Ok,” said Mike.
 
He looked around the room, at the machines, the tools.
 
“You know what?
 
We could really use my handler about now.”

Zacharies looked up at him, then shrugged, the movement still limp and listless.

“Well, it’s a thing,” said Mike.
 
“If I put a call in, we’ll have about a billion Reed guys in here.
 
We’re kind of flying under the radar right now.”

Zacharies looked at him with bleary eyes.
 
“It’s stopping my gift,” he said.
 
“Together.
 
If I have my gift, together we can find Laia.”

“Right now, you and your gift couldn’t pull the tab off a can of Coke.”

“Please, Mike.”
 
The kid frowned at him.
 
“He’s here.”

“Who?”

“Our…
 
The master.”

“The motherfucker who came through with you?”
 
Mike looked at the door.
 
“Controls minds?”

“Yes.”

“How do you know?”

“Collar.”
 
Zacharies coughed and spat something on the ground, then shifted his feet from the spread of blood on the floor.
 
“It’s how they control us.
 
Controlled us, before.”

“Cock.
 
Sucker.”
 
Mike looked at his sidearm, the overlay flicking up an ammo count.
 
He touched the edge of the link, then clicked it on.
 
“Sam.”

“Holy shit,” she said, the link’s bright edges flickering.
 
“You’re actually not dead.
 
We had a pool running.”

“What are my odds?”

“They’re not great,” she said.
 
“I’m being honest, Mike.
 
I wasn’t betting on you.”

“Sam?”

“Yeah.”

“I got a situation.”

“You’ve got more than a situation.
 
Are you…
 
Holy shit.
 
You’re actually
inside
Reed Interactive.”

“Yeah.”

“This is going to change the odds on the pool.”

“Up or down?”

She went quiet for a second, then, “Ok.
 
I’m pretty sure you’re screwed.
 
I can’t get air support next to the tower, it’ll be shot down.
 
I can’t get ground support next to the tower either.”

“Why not?”

“‘Bout a thousand assholes out front.”

“People?”

“More or less,” she said.
 
“Hard to say from orbit.”

“I don’t need ground support,” said Mike.

“Why are you calling then?”

“I need you to…
 
Well, it’s complicated.
 
I’m here with the kid—”

“The kid?
 
He’s with you?”

“Yeah.
 
He’s got a—”

“The kid who can move shit with his mind?”

“Same kid.
 
Look, Sam, he’s got a—”

“The boss is going to be pissed.”

Mike sighed.
 
He looked over at Zacharies.
 
The kid had shut his eyes again.
 
I know what that feels like
.
 
“Sam?”

“Hey.”

“He’s got some kind of ring, collar, I don’t know, Reed shit on his neck.”

“Right.”

“I need you to get it off.”

She laughed.
 
“Wait, you’re serious.”

“Yeah.”

“Can I see?”

Mike okayed her request for optics access, and he looked at the collar on Zacharies’ neck.

“Ok,” said Sam.
 
“I got good news, and I got bad news.”

“Bad news.
 
Always bad news first.”

“Actually, two bits of bad news.”

“Is there any good news?”
 
Mike tapped his foot.
 
“There’d better be good news.”

“Michael.
 
Would I lie to you?”

“Yeah.”

“There’s good news,” she said.
 
“Bad news one.
 
I have no idea what that collar is.”

“Ok.”

“Bad news two.
 
I’ve been running a scan of activity.
 
They’re coming your way.”

“You’re sure?”

“You’re in the basement?”

“I’m in the basement,” he said.

“Everyone’s going to the basement,” she said.
 
“I figured that was you.”

“Right.”

“The good news,” she said, “is that I’m pretty sure I can get that off.”

“I thought you said you didn’t know what it is?”

“Yeah.
 
No clue.
 
But I can get it off,” she said.
 
Mike felt the link flare wide with data, his local systems reaching out.
 
“Wait just a…
 
There.”

There was a click, and the collar sheared down the back, snapping open and falling to the ground.
 
Zacharies’ eyes flicked open, and he looked at the door.

“They’re coming,” he said.

⚔ ⚛ ⚔

“So,” said Mike.

Zacharies nodded at him.
 
“So.”

“Bunch of guys,” said Mike.
 
“They’re going to come down that corridor, and they’re going to shoot at us.”

“Are they bad men?”

Mike looked at Zacharies.
 
Good kid.
 
Gets confused on the details
.
 
“I guess?”

“What have they done?”

“They work for Reed, for a start.
 
That’ll send you blind.”

The kid looked at him, face blank.

“Fair enough,” said Mike, “bad joke.
 
They work for the people who’ve got your sister.”

Zacharies looked at the door, then back at Mike.
 
“That doesn’t make them bad.”

“It what?”

“They’re…
 
They’re just in the way.”
 
Zacharies got up from the chair, his posture slack and unsteady.
 
“What did they do to me?”

“Probably nothing permanent.”
 
Mike looked back at the door.
 
“Sam?
 
Link the kid in.”

“He’s not—”

“Don’t care.
 
No time for that.”