F Wilson - Sims

“Easy, Mercer,” said Sinclair-2, turning his head to look at Luca. This was the first sign of life he’d shown.

With difficulty Luca kept his voice level. “But they weren’t the SLA.”

“But they could have been!” Sinclair-1 said. He pointed over his shoulder at the darkening hills visible through the oversized picture window behind him. “The SLA could be out there now, in the trees, readying an assault.”

“They’re not, and they never will be.” Luca had had just about enough of playing games with these two. “I guarantee it.”

Sinclair-1’s eyebrows rose halfway to his forehead. “You guarantee it? How interesting. You’re clairvoyant?”

“No,” he gritted. “I’m the SLA.”

Immediately he wished he hadn’t said it.

“This is no time for sick humor,” Sinclair-1 said.

Luca knew from the dubious expression on the CEO’s face that he still had a chance to take it back, but decided against it. Fuck ’em. He stepped up to Sinclair-1’s desk, rested his hands on its cool onyx surface, and leaned forward, literally getting in the other man’s face.

“That was not any kind of humor.”

“What?” The voice from his right, Sinclair-2, on his feet, his face pale. “You?”

“Ellis, he’s joking.”

Luca fixed Sinclair-1 with his gaze. “Have youever known me to joke?”

The CEO wavered, then took a step back, his eyes wide.

Movement to Luca’s right. “Monster!” Sinclair-2 charging, face distorted with fury. Luca pivoted, drove a fist into his gut, and that was all it took. The man doubled over, then dropped to his knees, gasping.

“Dear, God! Ellis! Are you all right?”

The kneeling man, still clutching his belly with one hand while the other clutched the arm of the sofa for support, shook his head. His voice was a half-strangled whisper. “I’ll never be all right.”

Sinclair-1 stared at Luca. “Why? In God’s name,why ?”

“To find your million-dollar sim.”

“For what?” Sinclair-2 said as he hauled himself back into the couch. He sat hunched over, rubbing his belly. “To harvest her organs along with the rest?”

“No. To give her to you two.”

“Why would we be interested?”

“Because she’s pregnant.”

A pause as the two brothers glanced at each other, then stared at Luca.

Sinclair-1 snorted. “Impossible!”

“So I’ve been told.” Luca shrugged. “And maybe that’s true in theory. But I deal in facts, and everything I’ve discovered about this particular sim confirms that she is pregnant.”

“How on earth did you find out about her?”

Might as well tell them the whole story, Luca thought. Well, most of it.

“It started with a phone call last month. A woman said she had to speak to Mercer Sinclair right away, said she had information that would affect the entire future of SimGen. That sounded like a security matter to me so I took the call and—”

“And pretended to be me?”

“Of course. The woman, whose name I later learned was Eleanor Bryce, a Ph.D. in microbiology, told me she was in possession of a pregnant sim.”

“You accepted that?” Sinclair-2 said. His color was returning along with his voice, but pure hatred gleamed in his eyes. “Just like that?”

Portero returned his stare. You want another try for a piece of me, fancy man? Next time I spread your nose across your face.

“Of course not. In an involved back-and-forth that took almost two weeks she sent enough information to convince our people that she could be telling the truth.”

“Yourpeople!” Sinclair-1 now. “The ones in our Basic Research facility, I suppose. Why not ours?”

“We were going to bring in your people later, but first we had to secure this sim. The Bryce woman made enough slips during our communications to allow me to pinpoint her location. When she presented her ultimatum I decided it was time to move.”

“Ultimatum?” Sinclair-1 said.

That’s not what you should be asking me, Luca thought. Why aren’t either of you asking the right question?

Because he was dying to lay the answer on them…and watch both the Sinclair brothers’ hair turn white before his eyes.

Luca said, “She wanted to sell us the sim.”

“Sellus? Sell us something that already belonged to us? What did you tell her?”

“Since I was pretending to be you, I said exactly that, then I asked her how much she wanted. She told me to bid. And she warned me not to be ‘chintzy’—her word—because there’d be another bidder: the Arata-jinruien Corporation.”

Sinclair-1 pounded a fist on his desktop. “Thosebandits? Outrageous!”

“Wait just a minute,” Sinclair-2 said, holding up a hand. “Let’s take a step back here.”

Here it comes, Luca thought. His gut tingled with anticipation.

“Let’s just say,” Sinclair-2 continued, but he spoke to his brother, as if Luca weren’t there, “that this Bryce woman, through hormone treatments or a recombinant patch, did somehow manage to induce a female sim to produce a fertilizable ovum. That will cause SimGen problems because it means people will be able to breed their own sims—and no one on this planet wants that less than I do—but it doesn’t invalidate our patent on the sim genome. So—”

Not the question!

“She didn’t do anything to the sim,” Luca snapped. “She’s a microbiologist. Knows nothing about reproductive medicine.”

“How can you be sure?” Sinclair-1 said.

“She told me.”

Sinclair-1 barked a laugh.

Luca glared at him. “At the time I questioned her she was loaded up with a drug that made her incapable of lying.”

“The compound mentioned in the autopsy report,” Sinclair-2 said, his tone dripping contempt. “Did you torture them before or after you had your information?”

“That was just window dressing, to muddy the waters while I eliminated everyone with firsthand knowledge about the pregnancy. I didn’t know what the sims knew, but I didn’t want any loose ends, so they were removed too.”

“Dear God, why?” Sinclair-2 said. “A pregnant sim, even if it were possible, opens up a can of worms, but it’s not worth the lives of three people and a dozen sims!”

Here’s the moment, Luca thought. Time to rock your world.

“It does if the father of the sim’s baby is human.”

Silence, a moment of glorious, absolute silence in the office as the Sinclair brothers froze. Luca could have been looking at a photograph, or an elaborate sculpture. Then the thump of Sinclair-1 dropping heavily into his chair as if the bones in his legs had suddenly dissolved.

Luca inhaled the mixture of shock and terror filling the air. Moments like this made life worth living.

He’s wrong! Mercer Sinclair thought, fighting a vertiginous sense of unreality. Portero’s wrong! He has to be!

…the father of the sim’s baby is human…

Those words hung in the air before him, almost visible. He sensed that if he reached out his hand he might touch them.

He looked at his security chief’s smug expression and knew that Portero believed it, but that didn’t mean it was true. Being a tough guy didn’t mean you couldn’t be scammed.

Mercer worked his lips, forcing out the words. “A hoax!” he cried, but it sounded more like a bleat.

Portero shook his head. “I have it from all three farmers: They all believed they were in possession of a pregnant sim that was going to make them rich beyond their wildest dreams.”

“Then they believed wrong!”

“Wait a second,” Ellis said. “They believed. That’s important. They may have been morally bankrupt, but they weren’t ignorant. A globulin farm requires a fair amount of scientific sophistication. And if they were convinced that one of their sims was pregnant…”