Lawrence Watt-Evans: Realms of Light

I swung open the door and stepped out ontothe casino floor, where a flood of sound and color flashed over me.The slap of cards on felt, the buzz and clatter of a hundreddifferent randomizers, and the hum of voices filled the air. So didglittering visual come-ons of every sort, stardust swirls andimages of naked women and flashing holograms of personal cardsshowing million-credit balances, bouncing balls and playing cardsand tropical beaches.

It made me homesick. Oh, Alderstadt andAmerican City had their share of advertising, but it wasn’t thesame as the Trap-Alderstadt closed down at night, and American Cityseemed to do everything in pink and silver. Nightside City had itsown style. I’d had a glimpse of it during the cab ride from theport, but it hadn’t really sunk in the way this view did. Thecasino was like a miniature version of the view of Trap Over I’dhad from my old office.

But I wasn’t allowed to diverge from myroute, so I couldn’t stop and take it in. I couldn’t poke around. Ikept moving.

As I made my way toward the elevator Iwondered what had become of the place on Juarez after I left.

Then I told myself I was being an idiot. Iknew what happened to it-nothing. Juarez was in the burbs west ofthe Trap, and sunlight was already crawling down the western rim ofthe crater that sheltered the city. Most of the west end wasalready abandoned and empty. There was no way my old landlord hadfound another tenant.

I stopped in my tracks as a thought hitme.

There was no way my landlord had foundanother tenant. My old office would be standing empty. Had he evenbothered to change the codes, or clear out my old furniture? Thatcom system I had been missing might still be there. Oh, I’d shut itdown when I left, but I hadn’t taken the time to wipe it properly;there wasn’t much on it I’d cared about enough to make sure it waserased.

That was something I might want to check outwhile I was in town.

Right now, though, I was headed down intoTrap Under to find Seventh Heaven and my father’s still-breathingremains. I started walking again, ignoring the floaters that werestarting to cluster around me, offering free drinks, or a buy-inbonus for the tables, or discounted admission to the privateshows.

The elevator was feeling chatty when Istepped in, but I didn’t listen as it started telling me about allthe delights Nightside City had to offer. “Down,” I said. “LevelB3.”

The doors closed, and once it heard that Iwas headed lower the ads changed mood. “Rough night?” the elevatorasked. “We’ve got options-credit on easy terms, service contracts,a dozen ways to get back in the game.”

“I’m here on private business,” I said. “Shutup.”

“Yes, mis’.” Then it shut up. Some places theelevators would have kept talking, but the Ginza was a classoutfit.

The door opened on a quiet corridor carpetedin a restful shade of blue, with walls that shimmered gently. Adisplay hung in the air, directing me to the Ginza’s financialcenter and personnel offices, an organ broker or two, and SeventhHeaven Neurosurgery. I reached up and tapped that last one, and itturned orange. Orange arrows appeared in the carpet, as well.

I followed the arrows, and found my way to adoor that showed a scene out of some ancient fantasy, with men andwomen wearing wisps of pastel gauze as they cavorted amid whitemarble columns and red and gold tapestries. The name “SeventhHeaven Neurosurgery,” in golden letters, drifted through the skyvisible between the columns.

I walked up to it; the images faded away, andthe door slid open. I stepped through into a sunlit forest glade,and a gentle voice said, “An attendant will be with you shortly. Abench is available to your right.”

Ordinarily I don’t need to be told where theseats are, but the bench was half-hidden by the images, whichcovered every available surface. Knowing where to look saved me asecond or two. I took a seat.

Birds flitted through the trees, green andred and blue amid the golden sunlight and green leaves. It waspretty, but I wasn’t in the mood to enjoy it.

“Seems to me it’s bad psychology, doing thewaiting room up like this,” I said to the room. “Doesn’t it remindcustomers that they can live in whatever setting they want withouthaving the whole thing fed straight into their brains?”

“Oh, no,” that soothing voice replied. “Theseare just images. You can’t touch them, or smell them, or tastethem, and your options are limited to what’s already in memory.They’re nowhere near as immersive as the dream experience we offer.A quick sample will demonstrate the difference; just five minutesand you’ll see just how unsatisfying these mere images of coloredlight really are. Shall I set a trial session up for you?”

I shuddered. “No. I’m here on familybusiness, I’m not a customer.”

“I see. Here’s Mis’ Wu to help you.”

A handsome young man appeared, stridingthrough the trees toward me, with a unicorn close on his heels. Hisdeep-gray worksuit looked incongruous in that fantasy setting, so Iwasn’t surprised, when the image skipped slightly as the real Mis’Wu stepped through the projection into the room, to see that he wasreally wearing exactly that suit.

That skip-you’d think they could avoid that,adjust the image on the fly so that it matched the real man. Maybethey just didn’t care about such details; after all, everyone whocame here knew perfectly well these trees weren’t real, thesunlight wasn’t real, the birds and unicorn didn’t exist.

In fact, I wondered whether they left thattiny flaw in there deliberately, just to remind you that this was a cheap illusion, and they could sell you a much betterone.

“May I help you?” Mis’ Wu asked, smiling.

I stood up. “I’m looking for Guohan Hsing,” Isaid.

“I’m afraid I don’t recognize the name.”

“Mis’ Hsing is a long-term customer,” theoffice voice said. “He has been with us almost twenty years.”

“Ah, that was before my time,” Mis’ Wusaid.

In most businesses, I’d expect a front-officetype like this to have the complete client specs somewhere in hisown head. For a dreamtank, though, what was the point? Generallyonce someone bought a permanent contract, the only people who hadto worry about her were the techs who maintained the tank and keptthe customer’s body alive. The salespeople didn’t need to know whowas stashed away in back.

At least, ordinarily they didn’t, but here Iwas, looking for my father.

“What’s your interest in Mis’ Hsing?” Wuasked.

“It’s a family matter,” I said. “I’m hisdaughter.”

Wu frowned.

“At the time of his contracting with us, Mis’Hsing had no children on record,” the office said.

I sighed. “He emancipated us,” I said.“Genetically, he has three children.”

“Legally, he has none.”

“This isn’t a legal matter; it’s a familyconcern.”

“Mis’ Wu?” the office said, indicating thatit had reached the limits of its programming.

“A family is a legal entity,” Wu said.

“A family is also a genetic network,”I said.

“What do you want with Guohan Hsing?”

“I want to be sure he’s all right. Certain…genetic issues have arisen.”

“Mis’ Hsing is in perfect health,” the officesaid. “His life chamber is functioning properly in every way.”

“I’m sure it is,” I said, smiling. “But as Isay, we have reasons to be concerned about his continued healththat have nothing to do with Seventh Heaven’s no doubt excellentservice.”

“Are you saying there’s some sort ofhereditary defect involved?” Wu asked.

“There might be, yes.”

“I believe we test our customers for suchthings,” Wu said.