Perion Synthetics (21 page)

Only after working up the nerve to ask her
out did Gil finally toggle the power switch, sparking the hulking machine into
operation again. He took the time to show her how to do it herself, enjoying
the closeness of her body as they leaned over the copier.

That was all it took, one little service
call.

The rest was a memory Gil thought he had
buried. There was a foggy, damp part of his life he never looked into anymore,
a place full of Jackie’s smiling face, infectious laugh, and biting wit. Those
memories often tried to draw him closer, but he knew he would never find her
there.

The cig wore to the filter. Gil stubbed it
out on the evercrete.

“Who were you talking to?” asked Gantz. The
door banged shut behind him, pulled abruptly by the coiled spring above its
frame.

“No one,” replied Gil. “Just checking my
messages.”

“You talk to your messages?”

“What’s it to you, Copper?”

Gantz chuckled. “So, I thought you said
you’d done this kind of work before.”

“I said I’ve read the ReTread spec. There’s
a big difference between wiping out someone’s identity and undoing whatever
your people did to that girl. Emotional attachment to a synthetic baby? What’d
she do to deserve that?”

Gantz dropped into place at the edge of the
loading dock, brushing the dismantled phone aside.

“She broke into the Spire, into one of the
sub-levels. An Automated Guard got ahold of her, put her out before we even
knew what was going on. They called me in, but by that time, the decision had
already been made. It came from the top.”

“From Perion?”

The chief hesitated. “Yeah, from Perion. I
didn’t want any part of it, Gil. I’ve seen things over the last few days that
have made my skin crawl, but nothing as fucked up as this.”

“And she’s not a native.”

“Not only is she an outlander, she’s Lincoln
Tate’s main squeeze, and probably his favorite aggregator at the moment. Just
look at the story she’ll be taking home.”

“If she gets out of here at all,” said Gil,
wondering for a second if Benny might actually suggest giving Tate a little
setback by taking out his only aggregator on the inside.

“She’ll get out. Soon as she wakes up, I’m
taking her and Cam to the border myself. Hopefully I can get them past the PNR
before anyone knows what’s up.”

Gil looked at the chief of police through a
narrow eye. “You having a crisis of conscience, Gantz?”

He scoffed in response. “You think I give a
fuck whether these two live or die?”

“Then why help them?”

Gantz looked up at the stars. “Because a
shift is coming, Gil. The rules are breaking down; right and wrong depends on
who’s in charge. And when it all falls apart, the only authority left is the higher
one.” He paused for a moment before bringing his eyes back down to Gil. “Things
are about to get real complicated and the less players on the field, the
better. Look at those two in there—shit-stirrers, both of them. It’s bad enough
corporations are collecting and selling our personal info, but now we’ve got
these rodents picking through our garbage, trying to find something juicy to
feed to the masses?”

Gil faked a laugh and looked away to a
flashing traffic light at a nearby intersection. “So that’s why you don’t feed?”

“Perion discourages it. He says there’s
enough corruption through conventional means already. He’s always telling me
about the time—”

“You’ve talked to him?”

“Does that surprise you?”

Gil shrugged. “He always struck me as a bit
of a recluse, not counting his occasional public appearances. I didn’t think he
spoke to anyone.”

“He has an inner circle, and I’ve sat in on
a few important dinners. This one time, he had a little too much to drink and
someone brought up the feeds. He said ninety-nine percent of it was crap. Said
the only way to make sure you came out looking good on the feed was to give
them
your
version of the story. Don’t let them figure it out for
themselves. Control your own destiny and whatnot.”

“How pragmatic,” said Gil, turning his face
to the breeze.

Across the street, little red lights danced
in the shadows—access card readers or perhaps the eyes of primitive synthetics
working the graveyard shift.

“What did you think of the old man?” asked
Gil.

Gantz hunched forward. “Just a regular guy,
I guess. No different from you or me. He’s got charisma, I’ll give him that. I
wasn’t much for his ideas or visions, but he’s always been good to me. Sitting
with him, talking with him… you can’t help but want to follow, even if it’s not
in the right direction sometimes.”

“And yet you’ve worked with him for how many
years?”

“Ha,” said Gantz, slapping his knee. “I’ve
always worked for Mr. Perion, and I always will.”

“Sounds like something a synthetic would
say.”

“Damn straight,” said Gantz. “That’s why I
get myself checked out every month. A little trip out to the PNR answers that
question quick, fast, and in a hurry.”

“Seriously?” Gil shook his head.

“I wouldn’t put it past him. The man does
what he wants. For the longest time, that was limited to what is socially
acceptable in this country. But as time goes on… well, that’s why we don’t let
aggregators in here. They may only see the horror and not the reasoning.”

“Hold on,” said Gil, raising his hand. “How
can you claim there are special projects Perion didn’t want anyone to know
about while
two
aggregators who showed up got assigned personal
prototypes that have never been announced, talked about, or even acknowledged?
Cam’s feed has been active for days and it’s just going out there for the world
to absorb. You don’t think Cyn is going to start feeding about the daughter she
never had as soon as she wakes up?”

“Cyn won’t be feeding a goddamn thing if she
knows what’s good for her. Cam, on the other hand, I can’t put a stop to. The
order from on high is to let him feed whatever the hell he wants. Why he hasn’t
put out more than a single photo of Roberta or mentioned the Collapse at all, I
don’t know. All I know is I asked about putting the squeeze on him while we
regrouped and got denied.” Gantz laughed. “Arrogant little prick’s been walking
around like he owns the place, but he’s got charisma like Big J and some of the
shit he says… he kind of grows on you.”

“Like Big J
had
,” said Gil.

“What?”

“You said Cam has charisma like Big J has,
like he’s still alive. All week I’ve been expecting a parade or something, a
final tribute to the great Creator. But I haven’t seen anything and no
indication from anyone in the company that James Perion is actually dead.”

“Probably more legal than anything else,”
said Gantz. “The board has to figure out how to keep the company running, who
should be in charge—that kind of stuff.”

“They couldn’t send a memo after what
happened Tuesday?” Gil shivered at the memory of the rolling tide of whispers
announcing the death of the Creator as it washed over the city.

Every synny in town had dropped dead in the
street, but eventually they regained their footing, resumed business as usual.
The humans had followed their lead—with everyone expecting the company to make
an announcement of some kind. When none came, perhaps people assumed the
whispers had been lies, that their fearless leader wasn’t really dead.

But then why had Gantz gotten choked up that
day? Why did he tell Gil that James Perion had passed on?

Gil suspected turmoil in the Spire, but
there were precious few copiers breaking down these days, and he hadn’t been
inside in months. In a way, it was a blessing. The Spire reminded him of
Jackie, and every time the elevator doors opened in the lobby, he hoped to see
her face appear. She’d be wearing her hair up during business hours, with a few
intentional strands hanging loosely over her black glasses.

The memory shriveled in the cold.

“You alright there? Kinda drifted away for a
minute.”

Looking over his shoulder at the warehouse,
Gil said, “Roberta gives me the creeps.”

“Really? Cam seems to be into her,
way
into her, if you know what I mean.”

A fist shot out and caught Gantz in the
meaty part of his arm.

“What the fuck was that for?” he asked.

Gil reached for the remains of his cell
phone. He paused. “Well, I can’t show you, but I had a picture of Jackie on my
phone.”

“Yeah, I was going to ask you about that.
Who is she? I’ve never heard you mention her name before.”

Who
was
she, thought Gil, for like
James Perion, she could no longer be referred to in the present tense. Perhaps
if he and Gantz were better friends, Gil would have told him about the woman
who—

The screen door behind them screeched.

“Gilbert,” said Cam, slightly out of breath.
“Cyn is waking up.”

Gantz nodded approvingly and tagged Gil on
the arm. “Looks like I won’t have to take you in for murder after all.”

“You punch like a synthetic bitch,” said
Gil, standing up. He paused at the door. “You coming in?”

Gantz nodded. “In a minute. I need to check
my messages.”

The warehouse was home to rows upon rows of synthetic women
splayed out for provisioning and Gil couldn’t keep his eyes from studying the
details of their faces, wondering if there might be another Jackie lookalike
laying on her back with her legs spread and a gaping hole where her synthetic
vagina should have been. Gil wanted to ask the question of
why
. Why did
synthetics need working sex organs?

He looked up at the wall of frosted bags.

Was there another warehouse down the block
with a wall full of bagged dicks? Couldn’t both male and female synnies get by
with superficial detail? Why did they need to be functional and replaceable?

The answer, of course, was standing guard
over a groggy Cyn, holding a screaming synthetic baby in her arms, and looking
more and more like Jackie, with whom Gil had spent a few wonderful years of his
life. Someone must have seen in her the same beauty Gil did and decided to make
more copies—more Jackies running around town breaking the foolish hearts of
brilliant men, tricking them into loving her only to die suddenly and
tragically, leaving the men alone with their hearts so full of fear that even
the idea of love caused them a mild panic.

We seek in others what we are missing in
ourselves.

Jackie, more than any woman before, had
filled some void in Gil he hadn’t even known was there. Maybe Perion thought
every man carried around a similar emptiness and that was why Jackie clones
were being built as sex dolls for the American masses. One day, Roberta would
be on sale at synthetic dealerships all across the country and some overweight,
trust-fund sleaze bag would purchase her, take her home, and treat her like
shit, even by synthetic standards. He’d have his fun with her, oh yes, he
would. And Jackie, the
real
Jackie, would have no say in it.

Someone would have to speak up on her
behalf.

Gil avoided Roberta’s gaze and focused on
Cyn, who was now rolling her head back and forth like a drunk who couldn’t
figure out which way was up. He pulled at her eyelids to check her pupil
response.

Cyn forced his hand away with an angry swat.

“Will someone shut that goddamn baby up?”

Roberta pulled Candice closer to her chest
and turned away. She walked down a few tables to try to quiet the baby.

“There’s a break room back there,” said Gil,
motioning to the far wall.

Roberta nodded and whispered soothing sounds
to Candice that were drowned out by Cyn’s cries.

“Can you tell me your name?” asked Gil,
taking Cyn’s hand.

She jerked it away. For a moment, there was
anger in her eyes, but recognition finally took hold. “Gilbert Reyes,” she
said.

“Fuck,” said Cam. “She thinks she’s you.”

“Yes, I’m Gilbert Reyes. I helped reset you.
But now we’ve got to make sure you’re still you.”

Cyn sat up and tugged at her shirt, pulling
it down over her exposed belly button. “Whose clothes…”

“You can get some new ones once you guys are
safely outside of the city,” said Gil.

“I’m not leaving,” said Cam.

Gil took a step back and put his hands on
his hips. “You think being forced to love a synthetic baby was bad? How much
longer do you think they’ll let you walk around their city with impunity before
they trigger whatever secondary protocol they have looping around in that
thing’s subsystems?”

“Roberta?” asked Cam. “She’s harmless.”

Gil raised an eyebrow.

“To me,” he clarified. “If anything, she’s
protected me from every major threat I’ve experienced since I got here.”

“Yeah,” said Gil, “like she was designed for
it, right? You just happened to be paired up with a prototype who A, wants to
protect you, B, seems to almost
love
you, and C, is walking around with
the face of my dead girlfriend.”

Cyn stopped groaning as silence took hold of
the warehouse.

With heat rising in his cheeks, Gil began
packing his equipment into his tool bag. The laptop scraped against wires and
metal clasps, until finally the zipper whined as he closed up the bag. Walking
towards the door, he felt their eyes on his back.

“Gil, wait,” said Cam. “I didn’t know.”

“Of course not,” replied Gil, spinning on
his heels. He spread his arms. “How could you have known you were lusting after
a synthetic woman based off of my very real Jackie? That’s your problem, Cam.
You roll into the PC like you’re above us all and you make a fucking mess. This
is
my town
and
my
—”

Story
was the word he wanted to say.

“So, what?” asked Cyn. “You’re jealous? Is
that what this is about?” She had swung her legs over the side of the table and
was regarding the floor with uncertainty.