Broken Mirror (47 page)

“That’ll keep you docile for the ride to the airport,” Karine said.

Normally, adrenaline would have flooded Victor’s system at the mention of flying. The worst panic attack in his life had gripped him for hours during a flight from Oakland & Bayshore to Oklahoma City. But the medication that moved from the patch into his skin dulled his emotions and made him feel as if he were wrapped in cotton and rocked by gentle waves.

Then, gradually, Victor moved outside himself, hovering, barely connected to consciousness.

“I won’t force you onto Personil for now,” Karine said, “but keep in mind that Class One facilities can do what they like, and Personil is a mild option compared to others. It’s not too late to change your mind. Who helped you steal BioScan’s data? Can you hear me?”

As she spoke, Victor felt himself drifting further away. He was only catching a word or two at a time. He focused his attention, trying to pull himself closer to her, but his body remained sitting upright, immune to his will. His mind wandered off.

Karine leaned toward him, cupping his face in her hands, which helped pull him back into his body for a moment. He heard her say, “I won’t have to deal with you anymore.”

Then, like a string had been cut, he floated up to the ceiling, hovering, watching the Corps lead Lucky and Bandit down the corridor while Karine gestured to Victor’s body. Other Corps lifted him by the arms and led him docilely to the elevators.

It was a strange sensation to watch himself, to feel as if he were split in two
—two pieces!—
body below and mind above, separated. He didn’t fight or struggle. It wouldn’t make a difference if he did. Instead, he enjoyed floating, watching events unfold.

Karine, the Corps, and their three prisoners rode the elevator down to a subterranean parking garage. Two black vehicles awaited
—another two, always two, when would he know what two really meant?
Karine, a male Corp, and mindless Victor climbed into one, while the remaining Corps maneuvered Lucky and Bandit into the other.

Soon they were traveling through Amarillo at dusk and Victor felt as if he were trailing behind the vehicle, high above, buffeted by the wind, tethered to his body by the thinnest thread imaginable. Most strangely, there was no hint of blankness, and its absence felt like a piece of himself was missing.

From Victor’s vantage point high above, he spotted two vehicles in the road ahead and saw with eagle-sharp vision that Tosh and Elena sat in each, blocking the way. Victor watched with growing alarm as two projectiles shot from one of the blocking cars
—
a violation of the global arms control regime.

A missile hit the vehicle carrying Victor. Flames bloomed underneath, and tires melted onto asphalt.

Rescue is here, he thought, as the tether connecting his mind and body snapped and his consciousness whirled into the infinite sky.

The most successful societies are those that hold themselves to ever-higher standards and evolve to meet the challenges of their day. For ancient humans, this required a constant battle with the environment and developing new tools to shape their world.

We have come a long way from our humble beginnings. Today our challenge is to master the accelerating technological innovation we’ve unlocked without becoming servants of that technology.

We need a new path forward for humanity that celebrates excellence and strives to transcend limitations. There are no fundamental restrictions, only passages to enlightenment.

—Circe Eastmore’s
Race to the Top
(1991)

Victor woke to find Elena leaning over him. He lay on a bed in a bleak room: dingy carpet, stains on the walls, sagging furniture.

“You’re safe, Victor,” Elena told him. “No panicking, okay?”

“I—Karine was here.” He remembered being out of his body, but it was like a dream. He sat up, feeling aches and pains all over.

“She’s next door, along with Lucky and Bandit. Tosh’s got them tied up. We took you on the road. Do you remember?”

He nodded. “I wish I could make it through one day without being drugged, gassed, or knocked unconscious.”

Elena said, “Understandable. I have good news and bad news. Good news, I’m a fantastic spy. I hid my MeshBit in Tosh’s car earlier and got it back without him noticing. Bad news, it recorded a conversation between him and the King.”

Haze interfered with his thoughts. Tosh was involved with the Corps? He shook his head and climbed out of bed. “He’s like the boogeyman. You’re as bad as Ozie, blaming some shadowy figure for everything.”

Elena looked fearfully toward the door.

Victor said, “It doesn’t make sense. Karine was working with the Corps. If Tosh was too . . . It’s not possible, is it?”

She said, “The Corps aren’t a tight-knit organization. They’re dickies for hire. They fight each other as much as they cooperate. But they all serve the King. He has them all chipped.” Victor opened his mouth to question this, but she held up a hand. “I don’t pretend to understand how they work. Don’t think of them as a single organization. They’re more of a loose franchise of assholes.”

Victor laughed.

“You know what this means,” she said. “You can’t trust Tosh.”

Victor groaned. The shifting allegiances and rivalries made Victor’s head ache. “You’re sure it was the King of Las Vegas?”

Elena nodded. She said, “If you do ever get the egg open, whatever’s inside, you can’t let him have it.”

Victor tried not to think about it. “I’ll worry about that once I’ve got the data egg back. I want to talk to Lucky, Bandit, and Karine,” he said. “This is my chance to sort out the truth.”

They walked outside into twilight. Ten identical lodge rooms faced him across an empty parking lot.

Elena said, “The cars are around the back.” She laughed bitterly. “Tosh brought weapons. No surprise there. The Corps are lying where we blasted them.”

Elena led him to a door and keyed the code to unlock it. He stepped inside.

Someone lay on the floor
—
Bandit. He seemed to be breathing.

Tosh was tightening a set of ropes that bound Lucky, facedown, to one of two beds. Karine, unconscious, chin lolling on her chest, sat on a chair by the bathroom door, bound by synthleather straps, much as Victor had been a few hours ago.

A slim desk and a chest of drawers shared the small space. Through a doorway, Victor could see a tiny bathroom. The unit clearly served only as a brief resting place for people on their way somewhere else.

Elena entered behind him and dead-bolted the door.

The lightstrips in the ceiling glowed dimly. Their biofuel reserves were running low.

Tosh saw Victor and calmly tucked away a loose end of a strap. Then he lunged at Victor across the small room and poked a stiff finger into his chest. “You run from me again, and I’ll kill you.”

“Guys, calm down,” Elena said. “No harm, no foul.”

Victor crossed the room and sat on the bed, running his hands across the bedspread’s gaudy pattern of crammed-together luminescent
W
s. “No, you won’t,” he said quietly. “You need me to open the data egg.”

Tosh stared at him for a moment. Then he harrumphed.

“Speaking of the egg, where is it?” Victor asked.

“We looked but didn’t find anything except this junk.” Tosh waved at the bedside table, which held two sleep jabbers, a Dirac stunstick, and a pack of stimsmokes. There was no data egg and no Handy unit. His backpack and herbs weren’t there either.

“You want your stuff?” Tosh asked.

Victor nodded.

“Let’s ask this dickie,” Tosh said and spit on the rug next to Bandit’s face.

Victor helped Tosh lift Bandit onto the empty bed.

“One thing first,” Victor said. He untied Bandit’s shoes and wrestled them off. Reaching around the man’s hips, he unfastened his pants and jerked them free as well. The most difficult step was slipping Bandit’s floppy arms out of his shirt, which he accomplished as Tosh stood by and watched with a creepy leer. Soon only a pair of briefs clothed Bandit. Victor did the same with Lucky, stripping her down to her panties and bra.

“What’s that all about?” Elena asked.

Victor tossed the clothing to the floor. “They’ll be more eager to talk.”

Tosh pulled coils of synthleather cords from a gear bag and twisted them around Bandit’s body and limbs multiple times, trussing him.

Victor said, “Whatever happens, they brought this on themselves.”

Tosh rummaged in his bag, then held up a cylinder and tossed it to Elena. “This’ll do the trick.”

She examined it. “Skinjection stimulant, wake-up juice.”

“Do it,” Victor said. “Him first.”

Elena pressed the Skinjector into the soft skin behind Bandit’s knee. Seconds later, his gasp echoed through the room, and he began to cough. “Ohh . . . Laws?”

“Where’s my stuff?” Victor asked Bandit.

“Who?” Bandit strained against the synthleather and turned his head in Victor’s direction. “Oh. Just the person I wanted to talk to. I have a question about Broken Mirrors. Why are they all such assholes?”

Tosh sat on the bed and leaned an elbow on Bandit’s back. Bandit groaned under the bigger man’s weight.

“Tell him.” Tosh pressed down harder. “If you don’t answer our questions, we’ll start working on your companion. Where’s the data egg?”

Bandit became still.

Victor asked Tosh, “Can you make him talk or can’t you?”

Tosh pulled a cudgel from his black bag. “Most useful starting tool.”

Victor looked into Tosh’s eyes, and a pleasurable tingle suffused his lips.

Tosh traced the curve of Bandit’s cheek with the cudgel’s tip. Then he pressed more strongly, smooshing and lifting, tilting his head back at a sharp angle. Victor thought he heard Bandit’s vertebrae grind against each other and couldn’t be sure if it was his synesthesia or a real sound.

Tosh said, “I can shatter the bones around your eyes, break your nose, and knock out your teeth. I can leave bruises that won’t heal for a month. I’ve beaten men so badly that they died from kidney failure, and I barely broke a sweat. Now, where is Victor’s stuff? The egg, in particular, I’m interested in.”

Tosh pressed the cudgel into the man’s kidney.

Bandit’s brow creased, and he let out a pained, angry moan.

Tosh said, “That was the easiest question I’ll ask you. Might as well save your strength for the others.”

“Forget him,” Elena said. She turned to Lucky. “Let’s see what she has to say.”

Bandit strained against the straps. “Don’t touch her!”

“Tell me where my medicine is,” Victor commanded.

Bandit said with a sneer, “Or what? You’ll cry?”

Victor jumped on the bed and snatched at Bandit’s black, greasy hair, yanking as hard as he could. Bandit yelled incoherently.

Victor grabbed hold of his neck. “Tell me, or I’ll squeeze until you pass out.”

Tosh pulled Victor off of Bandit. “Let me handle this.” He leaned over the female freelancer, found a suitable place on her neck, and jabbed her with a wake-up Skinjector.

“Don’t!” Bandit yelled.

Tosh jerked a thumb at Bandit. “Stuff a sock in his mouth.”

Victor found a sock. Bandit tried to move his head away. Victor pressed a finger against Bandit’s eyelid. “Open up, or I’ll blind you!”

Bandit said, “That’s not ne
—
hehr
—
om.” Victor scraped his fingers against Bandit’s teeth as he shoved the sock in his mouth.

Victor backed away. The excitement churning in his belly wasn’t to be trusted. He leaned against the wall, closed his eyes, and watched patterns form and evolve behind his eyelids: triangles, stars, fractals growing, moving, and decaying inside one another. The flows and turbulent colors were beautiful, but he would eat fistfuls of fumewort for a moment of inner quiet.

Victor felt a hand squeeze his shoulder. He opened his eyes. Elena looked at him with concern. Beyond her, Lucky’s body writhed on the bed, her eyes fluttering. She opened them and saw Bandit tied up. She groaned.

Tosh sat on the edge of the bed next to Lucky. He stroked her back. “Morning, sunshine. Your friend didn’t want to tell me where the data egg is. You’re going to tell me now, or I’m going to beat him within an inch of his life.”

She strained to look at Tosh. “You psychopath. Unless you let us go right now”
—
she jerked her head around
—
“What the hell is this? Did you
shibari
us to the bed?”

Tosh smiled. “Old habits die hard.”

Questions tumbled from Victor’s mouth. “Where is my stuff? Did you poison my granfa? Who hired you?”

Tosh clucked at him. “All in good time, Vic. It’s important to establish a rapport.”

Lucky tried to peek at her partner. “Bandit, you okay?”

Bandit’s mouth was still gagged. His eyes widened, and his head alternately nodded and shook.

“Okay, I’m bored,” Tosh said. “Where is the data egg? Now!”

Lucky was silent.

Tosh flicked open a knife. He held it up so both captives could see it. “One more chance.”

“Don’t be insane,” Lucky said.

Tosh walked to the end of the bed and sat heavily on Bandit’s left foot. He gripped the right foot, pulled it upward against the restraints, and clamped it underneath his arm. Then he carved a slit across the arch of Bandit’s foot. Bandit’s screams leaked out of his gagged mouth. Victor watched, feeling hot, wet tingling in his own foot.

“Stop it!” Lucky screamed.

Elena grimaced and crossed her arms, but said nothing.

Tosh cut Bandit again. As the blade traveled, he pressed the point in deeply while twisting. Blood streamed onto the bed covers.

The room flooded with shame that smelled like muddy riverbanks.

Victor moved to the window and peeked out between a gap in the curtains. A hobo trudged along the dirt sidewalk across the street. Trash blew by. A scratchy place at the back of his throat wouldn’t go away despite his attempts to clear it. He wasn’t responsible for Tosh’s actions. The shame that surrounded Victor was illusory: it wasn’t his; it wasn’t what he deserved.