Robert Charrette - Find your own truth

"You look a bit different from your virtual image. New dye job?" he asked.

"Slave to fashion, you know," the elf said with forced nonchalance. He remained icily calm, though. "Verily, I'm forwarding payment,"

"Wiz. Callback in ten," Neko told him, cutting the circuit without waiting for a response or protest. Keeping them off guard was a way to stay in control. Neko didn't like things he couldn't control.

Ten minutes later, after Neko had confirmed the funds transfer, the elf was back on the line. "Trusting, chummer," Neko told him. The elf smiled slyly. "Don't think a decker like myself could not recover those funds if your offering proved false. Verily, I'm better than that."

If the elf was a member of the club that played in the not-place, it was probably so. Neko decided to transfer the funds to hardcopy as soon as he broke connection. Better yet, he'd place the order from the next phone while transferring the now paid-for goods. "Ready to receive?" "Affirmative."

"Look, chummer. I'll slot the chip and send the data hard-shelled. Code three-seven. How about you stay on the line and let me know it got through." "Very well."

"Wiz." That'll give me time to stash the loot. Neko slotted the chip and started the transfer as promised. He was pocketing half a dozen certified credsticks that had come tumbling from the delivery slot more like rolls of candy than the bottled wealth they were when the elf came back on the first telecom line. " 'Tis received complete, and the code checks.

Contact me again in twenty-four hours. I may have further work for you."

Neko let a little bit of his pleasure show, but concealed all of his surprise. "Frigid. Nuyen for news is a way of life. But do me a favor, chummer. Don't change your look between now and then. You elves all look alike to us norms. I almost didn't recognize you without the shag."

"Don't worry about my looks. The credit's good. What more do you need?"

"To do biz? Just the transfer, chummer. Yours to mine. Keep it healthy and we're in biz."

The circuit went dead. Neko shrugged and smiled at the blank screen. You didn't have to like them to do biz.

Urdli stood in the doorway and looked across to the stretched-out form of the decker. Standing around the corner from where he lay were several medical machines gathered like mourners for a funeral. His thinness would have been suitable for an Australian, but this was a Caucasian elf, and so undernourished. But that was less of an abuse than the things implanted in the decker's body. Even the mundane should find such perversion disgusting. A chrome-headed viper kissed the port in the decker's head, while at the other end of the coiled length its tail disappeared into an artifact Estios had identified as a Fuchi 7 cyberdeck.

Teresa O'Con nor busied herself changing the intravenous drip. It seemed a waste of effort and materials. More than twelve hours had passed since the decker had touched the cyberdeck keyboard. From what Urdli had heard about such things, it must mean that the decker's brain was no longer in control, if anything remained of its higher functions. The subjective journey through cyberspace still required the physical manipulation of computer interface devices. "Unhook the machine," he ordered.

O'Connor looked at him with wide eyes. "No," she said with uncommon vehemence.

"I will wait no longer. There are questions he must answer, assuming anything is left in there."

"Dodger's not brain-dead." Teresa's voice betrayed her concern. Perhaps trying to convince herself, she pointed at the monitor, whose obscure graphs and numbers meant nothing to Urdli. "There's activity at all levels. He's still alive and aware. He's just… lost."

"In the Matrix?" "I think so."

"Not possible. The Matrix is no true reality. Either he is in command of his brain, or not. If so, once the connection is severed, his awareness will be forced to return to the real world. If not, the matter will be resolved."

"Maybe. I don't know. His condition is not normal. His theta rhythms are grossly out of synch with normal decking activity. If we sever the link, he might go catatonic."

"I will take the risk." "Damn it! It's not your risk to take!" "Makkanagee morkhan, I will do it myself." As Urdli took the first step into the room, O'Connor came from behind the couch to place herself between him and the decker. By the defensive stance she took, he saw how apt was the name he had called her, for her Shatatain stance showed her well below his own competence in the art of carromeleg. "Laverty does not oppose me. By standing in my way, you break your bond as milessaratish, staining his honor while gaining none for yourself. You will fall."

"I'm not milessaratish, so leave the professor out of it. This is between you and me. I won't let you touch Dodger."

Her defiance was annoying. "By denying the bond to Laverty, you remove restraint from me. Out of consideration for him, I might have only incapacitated you, but now you have offended me with your opposition. You cannot stop me. You can buy only the slightest delay with your life."

He took his stance, and he saw in her eyes the realization that she was indeed facing a superior. Surprisingly, her rigidity slackened into a more natural defensive posture. That would make her a more difficult conquest, but though delayed, the outcome would be the same. He slid forward a pace and studied her non-reaction. More difficult, indeed. The appreciation of imminent death had brought her to zathien. Her unresolved stillness of spirit offered danger and unpredictable responses. He centered himself, seeking his own grasp of zathien from which to answer her. In the face of her resolution, the completeness eluded him. He slid forward another pace, determined to overmatch her transcendental state with his skill. The clash never began. "What's going on?"

Urdli slid back from engagement range before turning to face the newly arrived Estios. O'Connor relaxed, too, but her breathing was rapid, speeded by the adrenaline coursing in her system. The interruption had disrupted her zathien. She would be no serious hindrance to Urdli now. But first he would learn what had brought Estios from his huddled conferences with Laverty's scholars and technicians. "What news, Estios?"

Deliberately ignoring the confrontation he had interrupted, Estios spoke in a tone more suitable to a briefing room. "The new data has been correlated with the last batch the alley runner received from the source in Hong Kong. Probabilities that the operations are under way are more than fifty percent on several of the possibilities. If, as you suggest, the fixer known as Grandmother is an agent of Rachnei, she is a most active agent."

"Characteristic," Urdli said impatiently. "I'll take your word for it. One of her areas of activity is of particular interest, as it suggests a very ugly possibility."

"You try my patience, Estios." Estios gave him a tight smile that held no humor. "Try this. What do Hiroshima, Nagasaki, Tripoli, and Baghdad have in common?" "You remain obscure."

"These are all cities where atomic or nuclear weapons have been used."

"But that's open history," O'Connor interjected. "They are also all topics of Grandmother's researches, with her interest confined to dates following the unfortunate nuclear events." Estios turned to her. "And the events are not open history to something that slept through the explosions."

Urdli nodded in understanding. "You suggest that Rachnei seeks to understand the potential of such weaponry. A reasonable speculation, for nuclear war devices were not developed much before the middle of the last century. They would, indeed, be unknown to a sleeper. The precaution of investigating potential threats is in keeping with Rachnei's reputed method of operation. Knowing what we know, simple research offers no threat."