Ramez Naam - Nexus

And another market would spring up the next day somewhere else. Is there any real solution?

They came to the end of the market. Two more enforcers leaned against the walls, deliberately casual, their grotesquely huge muscles sending all the message that was needed: Don't fuck with us. They eyed Narong and Kade and Sam as they passed, made no move to stop them.

"That's Sukchai," Narong said. "The party's a few blocks from here. Come on."

Kade turned the things he'd seen in Sukchai over in his head as they walked. Narong was right. They'd be safer if these technologies were legalized, regulated, tested for safety…

Holtzmann's offer came to him unbidden.

You could come work for me, here at the ERD, the scientist had offered.

He'd rejected it out of hand, but was there some merit in it? Could he change the system from the inside? Could he help nudge them towards a better way to treat these technologies? Holtzmann was a scientist, surely he wasn't a knee-jerk prohibitionist too?

Kade wandered a maze of choices as Narong led them through the maze of alleys.

Wats paced them across the rooftops, leaping lightly from one to the next. No one below looked up to see him. If they had, they would have caught only a faintly darker patch against the dark backdrop of rain and cloud.

23

BUDDHA'S KISS

The party was in a club in an alley off another unnamed side street off of Soi Sama Han. Sam read the name of the place, written in Thai above the door. Joob Phajaow . Buddha's Kiss, she mentally translated. An irreverent name in a normally devout society. Faint music and the sounds of voices filtered through.

It was a quiet, trendy area, close to the seedy debauchery of the Nana sex district, close to the illicit fruits of Sukchai, but buffered from both. Just the kind of place young, upwardly mobile Thais might choose to party, Sam thought.

Narong pressed the button next to the heavy brass door. It cracked open. A muscular Thai bouncer waved them in.

Low couches filled the establishment. The walls were painted red and gold, inlaid with Thai script, lotus flowers, Buddhas. Fashionable young Thai and a few foreigners lounged in threes and fours, smiling and talking, holding stylish glasses of clear and colored booze. A trio in the corner smoked scented tobacco out of an elaborate hookah. A bar of bronze and dark wood stretched across one wall, bottles backlit in orange. Sultry, beat-inflected flux grooves filled the space. A DJ stood in the corner, shades over his eyes, oversized headphones on his ears, gently rocking to his own beat as he tapped away on the console before him. Three Thai women in their twenties swayed on the small dance floor before him in short metallic skirts and gold bangles.

Narong led them to the bar, spoke in rapid-fire Thai to the bartender.

The bartender turned to Kade. "You know DJ Axon?" he asked over the music and the crowd.

"Yeah," Kade raised his voice to be heard. "He's my best friend. We're in school together."

"Well, you bring him here sometime, and we'll show him a good time!"

The bartender's name was Yindee, and the first round was on him. The drinks were heavy on coconut milk and alcohol, with a hint of lemongrass, and very very tasty.

Narong took them around the club, introducing them to people. Here were Baroma and Lalana, Yama and Jao, Tonga and Chuan and Rajni. This was Rajni's French friend Pierre. Zuka was from Zimbabwe and worked on the neural basis of morality. Will was very British and on his way to very drunk. Loesan was the president of the Thai Neuroscience Students Association, and a brilliant neuro-linguist. The DJ's name was Sajja. And on it went.

Sam's tactical contacts faceprinted them all. The one named Chuan was suspected of being involved in Nexus trafficking in a minor way. Baroma maintained an anarchist blog called EatTheWest that he thought was anonymous, but was likely all talk. None of the rest had raised any suspicions.

The DJ mixed smoothly into a new track. Sam felt Kade smile. It was a Rangan Shankari original, a tribute to his friend, a welcome to them. She had a flash of the party she'd met Shankari at, of how she'd instantly known so much about every song he played, the information beamed into her head via Nexus 5. She remembered her surprised delight when it had happened.

Stay focused, Sam.

She pushed it out of her head, concentrated on the job. No sign of Suk Prat-Nung so far. But getting closer with Narong and his friends might still pay dividends down the road.

Kade was enjoying himself, holding court, flirting with the young Thai woman named Lalana, telling stories of his adventures with the famous DJ Axon. Lalana was laughing, hanging on his every word.

Sam peered beyond them, watched the young women on the dance floor. They were taking turns peeling small pink tabs off a sheet, then sensually affixing them to each other's throats. Soon two of the women were dancing closer, hips and waists pressed together. They kissed open-mouthed. The third one pressed up behind them, her hands roving across the others' bodies.

"It's called Sappho," Narong spoke into her ear. "It gets girls into girls. Lasts a few hours."

Sam turned. He was very close. "Is there one that gets boys into boys?" she asked.

Narong nodded. "The working boys in Patpong take it. A lot of them are only into men for the money. Makes their job more fun."

"And you?"

Narong shrugged. "It was fun. I prefer girls, though." He put his hands on her hips.

Sam pulled away, wagged her finger at him. "Not so fast, mister. We American women aren't all so easy."

Come on, Narong. Impress me. Lead me to Suk Prat-Nung and his uncle Ted.

Narong laughed and took her around to meet more of his friends.

The party grew as more people trickled in. Sajja and a few others cornered Kade and got him talking more about Rangan, which led to an animated discussion of their research projects, of sending data from one brain to another.

Chuan bought a round of drinks. A bleach-blonde Thai girl in a low-cut blouse and unnaturally large breasts came up and snuggled into his arm. He started telling a story about a drug called Synchronicity. Sam's ears perked up. "Synchronicity?" she innocently inquired. "What's that?"

"It's N and M together. The champagne of trips." He kissed his fingers for emphasis.

"N as in Nexus?" She wanted him to spell it out for her.

"Yeah. And M as in Empathek. The M makes you want to connect, want to understand, want to love. And the N actually lets you feel what other people are feeling. It's beautiful. Magical." Chuan closed his eyes as he described the experience.

Out of the corner of her eye, Sam saw the amateur anarchist, Baroma, try to shush Chuan with a hand gesture. Chuan rolled his eyes in annoyance.

"You know, that's what I've heard , anyway. I'd never do anything illegal like that." His voice dripped sarcasm. Everyone but Baroma laughed.

Sam laughed with them, made eye contact with Chuan, smiled at him.

This is the loose-lipped one, she thought. This is the way in.

She looked at Chuan and blinked to pull his bio up again, excused herself to the ladies' room to read it. Neuroscience PhD dropout. Known associate of Suk Prat-Nung. Single. No known income, but a pricey flat in a trendy part of Bangkok. He liked to post pictures of himself in exclusive clubs and exotic locales, attractive young women draped all over him. A player. She knew his type. Easy to manipulate.

She came out of the bathroom, squeezed back into the circle between Narong and Chuan, pressed against them both. She waited for the right moment, shared a story about a fictional LSD experience she'd had on the beach in Mexico, the awesome connection she'd felt to the waves and sun and sky, how it had changed her life.