Corroded Cells, page 14
part #2 of Cyberpunk Saga Series
“I see,” Moss said, feeling a sense of relief about the endeavor.
“I’ll even tell you guys,” Dimitry said in a hushed, conspiratorial tone. “I’m dating one of them.”
Gibbs choked on his beer, the liquid foaming back into his bottle. “Really?”
“Yes,” Dimitry said, clearly pleased with the reaction.
“And no one cares?” Moss asked.
“They would if they found out, but it’s hard to get caught,” he boasted.
“How’s that?” Moss asked, hardly able to believe how forthright Dimitry was.
“The cameras are only on the streets and walls and are monitored by an AI that is on the lookout for unauthorized exits and the like,” he said. “It would take an army of people on a round-the-clock schedule to watch all the feeds, so they farmed it out to computers. I have to piss,” he informed them. “You guys want to get the next round?”
“Sure,” Gibbs said, parading the menu on his screen as Dimitry stood and receded into the bar. The bartender had his broad back to them, but his ear was cocked.
“Reminds me of Sharon,” Moss said, hoping Gibbs would pick up on the implication. Sharon had been an acquaintance of theirs at ThutoCo. A kind but awkward woman, Sharon had always shared too much information in the hopes of making friends. The tactic had never really worked as people always felt a certain level of distrust of her since they knew she was likely to repeat anything she had heard to the next person she came across.
Gibbs had used her style to mine her for information about girls he was interested in, and Moss hoped that he picked up on the fact that Moss wanted to keep this kid talking as long as they could. The information was vital if they had any hope of success.
“Agreed,” Gibbs said, nodding slightly and Moss breathed a little easier in the knowledge that his friend understood. The bartender turned to look at them, bloodshot eyes scanning their faces.
“New?” he asked in a low, heavy voice.
“Yes,” Moss said, “that obvious?”
The man snorted. “If there’s anything you need, come by.”
“What could we need?” Gibbs asked.
“I’m not saying anything. I’m just saying—if there is anything you need,” he repeated cryptically, and Moss tapped his finger to his nose.
“Three beers for now,” he said, and the man shifted away from them. Moss’s eyes followed him down the space, and he turned to look around the bar. All the men sat either in silence or speaking quietly to one another. It struck him how different this place was from any of the other bars he had been to—there was no entertainment. In the city, everyone was plastered to one screen or another, and even at the Drudge’s Head, there had been a performer. Here, there was nothing, just people sitting around drinking and talking.
Dimitry came back a moment later.
He smiled. “New beers, sweet. Thanks, fellas.”
“No problem,” Gibbs said. “Anything else we should know since it’s our first day?”
“Not really,” Dimitry said, downing more beer in another gulp.
“How do you keep the guests from exiting if the cameras do so little?” Gibbs asked.
“Just because they can’t pick up a romance doesn’t mean they don’t do much. They look for quick movement and sparks and make a live map of everyone out on the streets which are monitored by supervisors,” Dimitry said, sounding disinterested. The door opened, and Dimitry announced, “Here’s my boyfriend now.”
Moss’s jaw nearly hit the floor as in walked the last person he expected to see and the only person who could ruin all their plans.
“This is Thomas,” Dimitry said.
Moss watched as Mr. Greene’s eyes went wide with recognition. His former boss had identified them instantly, and Moss knew the unfortunate man was in here because of his connection to them.
Mr. Greene could call it out, “Bring in the guards and have Moss arrested” on the spot. He considered pulling his weapon and making up an excuse later for his actions. He broke out in a sweat, his heart throbbed, and fear and guilt coursed through him. This could all have been for nothing.
But Mr. Greene walked over and played it cool.
“Dimy, you have new friends,” he said, lacing his fingers through the young man’s. Moss couldn’t believe it. In addition to Mr, Greene not instantly raising alarms, he was happily married—the tan line still obvious from where his wedding band had been.
“You know, I don’t remember your names,” Dimitry said apologetically.
“I’m Marley, and this is Che,” Gibbs offered a hand.
“Che, how appropriate,” Mr. Greene said as he took Moss’s hand.
He turned to Dimitry. “You know, sweetie, I was hoping to get you a little gift, and I think your new friend could help me with that. You think I could have a minute alone with this one?”
Moss had to give it to him. He was still clever.
“Sure,” Dimitry beamed. “The pool room next to the bathroom is empty. I just saw.”
“Thanks,” Mr. Greene said happily, extracting his hands and hurrying toward the back. Moss shook like a leaf as he followed. He knew the older man had him over a barrel and could demand anything, but as they entered the room with a pool table held up with fused-together kegs, he turned and hugged Moss. “You alright?” he asked, and Moss could not speak. He was overcome with joy in the moment and gripped the man tight.
“Y—Yes,” he stammered. “Are you? I’m so sorry for everything.”
“Sorry?” Mr. Greene asked in his nasal voice.
“Yes, for all this, for everything you’ve been through. I saw the tape, I know they threatened you, and now you are here, and it’s all my fault,” Moss burst. Mr. Greene chuckled slightly.
“Sure, they threatened me and made me film that video, but I’m alive because of you. You exposed something which I had been suspecting for years, and I’ll be forever grateful to you for that,” he said, and his sincerity raised Moss up.
“But you’re here,” he insisted.
“I’m here because I began to rally people and help them break their contracts and get out. I was caught. A lot of people were caught, and most of us ended up here,” he explained, a deep sadness in his tone. “Things have changed, bud. You changed the world.”
“Not enough,” Moss observed.
“Not yet,” Mr. Greene agreed. “There is still work to do, but it looks like your Productivity Points are off the charts now.”
Moss chuckled, and it was as if nothing had changed since that day in his office—Moss’s last day at ThutoCo and the first day of his new life. “I think I may have hit Level 2,” he quipped, and Mr. Greene smiled that inspiring smile which had gotten Moss through so much as a youth. “What’s with you and the kid?”
“That was Brian’s genius,” he said of his husband. “He told me to get in with a guard so I would stay safe while he works to get me out of here. He’s still on the board, but things are such a mess back at the company and suspicions are at an all-time high. It might be a while before he can free me, and I’m not tough enough to survive here without help.”
“What about all the people from the company? You can’t form a little group? Watch out for each other?” Moss asked, hating what the man had to do to keep himself safe.
“We have,” Mr. Greene told him, “but it’s mostly pale engineers and managers who’ve never left the Burbs. It’s not an intimidating presence. So, I made nice with the sap out there, and he makes sure no one bothers me. It was a smart plan, though I’m sick to my stomach at cheating.”
“I’m sorry,” Moss said, his guilt not assuaged.
“I’ll survive,” he said, “you’re here for your grandmother?”
“Among other things,” Moss said cryptically.
“Good,” Mr. Greene encouraged. “I don’t know how you’ll do it,” he paused, “but I don’t know how you pulled off what you did.”
“I work with some good people now,” Moss told him.
“I’m happy to hear it,” Mr. Greene replied, seeming genuinely happy for Moss. “You know she’s being held in the VIP area. I don’t know much, but I know it won’t be easy. Low-level guards aren’t allowed anywhere near it.
“Shit,” Moss said, and Mr. Greene grimaced. “Sorry,” Moss said, feeling as though he were back in the office about to be admonished.
“It’s all right.” Mr. Greene smiled. “I guess you’ve earned the right to swear.”
“We could take you with us,” Moss offered, “when we get out of here.”
Mr. Greene pondered the offer for a moment, running his finger along a tear in the pool table’s surface. “No,” he said finally. “I want to walk out of here free.”
“I understand,” Moss said sadly.
“But I have observed enough in my time here to help you, I think,” he offered before adding, “but I don’t think we have too much more time now before the kid gets suspicious. He may be a rube, but he’s jealous and insecure.”
“Could you meet with us tomorrow at the Alco-Traz?” Moss asked.
“I haven’t heard of it, but I’m sure I can make my way over,” Mr. Greene agreed.
“Great,” Moss said, “and Mr. Greene, it’s great to see you, though I wish it were under different circumstances.”
“You too, bud,” Mr. Greene said as they embraced once more, “and you can call me Thomas.”
“No, sir, I don’t think I can,” Moss admitted.
He smiled, truly happy to see his old mentor.
Chapter 16
After parting with Dimitry and Mr. Greene, Moss and Gibbs had made rounds, wandering the streets and acting like they were working while trying to get a sense of the place and its weaknesses. Once Dimitry had become drunk enough to answer more pointed questions without becoming suspicious, they had inquired after the Alco-Traz, and he had informed them it was on Seedy Street—so-called because it was both full of dive bars and it was where quadrants C and D met.
They had subsequently returned to the barracks and showered, eaten and rested. No one had batted an eye at the new recruits, and they had been careful to keep their faces covered as much as they could within reason. Moss’s broken nose and swollen features helped to disguise him.
After what had amounted to a cat nap, they had another conversation with Twelve, equal parts awkward and condescending. Now they were back on the streets and ready to set their plans into motion.
They had expressed an interest in seeing more of the city, and Twelve had acquiesced, assigning them to D: augmented females. They had made their way to Seedy Street, but as it was early morning, the bars were mostly shuttered, so they set about looking for Ynna to no avail.
They had also gleaned one relevant piece of information overnight. While showering, an older woman had told them that breakouts were much more common than Carcer would like them to believe. “They have a system in place,” she had told them. “See, when guests get out, they usually go to find their loved ones straight away. The friends or family are elated to see them and stop paying the guest rates. Carcer issues a bounty and picks up both the friend for defaulting on their payment and the escaped guest. Works more often than it doesn’t, and Carcer doubles their profit.”
Moss and Gibbs had acted astonished at the efficiency of the system while taking keen note of the fact that people had ways of getting out. In addition to now looking for their friends, they were also looking for someone who knew how to get out, though they knew that was decidedly unlikely dressed as they were.
“Officer!” The words broke them from their silence. A woman with half her face replaced with nanoskin came hustling over. The other half of her face was red with fury. She was gaunt, with green-dyed hair and a scared look just below the angry surface. “Officer!” she repeated, and Moss snapped to attention.
“Yes, ma’am?” he said, and she stopped dead in her tracks, seemingly surprised by his respectful response.
“That fat bitch juiced me!” she yelled, her ire back up.
“Pardon?” Gibbs asked, and Moss realized how truly ill-prepared they were. Carcer guards would have gone through extensive training and have protocols for all these types of incidents. Being cut loose and told to patrol as they were, they had no idea how to handle actual problems.
The woman huffed and began speaking in a patronizingly slow voice, stopping between every word, “That fat bitch juiced me.” She pointed in the direction of a short, round, tough-looking woman with a crude robotic arm. She was standing with a group of other women, and she was swinging the arm around with pride.
“We’ll have a chat with her,” Moss offered.
“I know you will!” the woman insisted. They strode over to the group, trying their best to look intimidating.
“Excuse me,” Moss said, and the woman stepped forward, obviously not scared by the two guards before her. From the stamp on her uniform, she had been there for over ten years and was not threatened by the new recruits.
“What?” she said in a thick accent.
“This guest says you stole her power,” Moss informed her.
“And?” she said, crossing her arms, a light on the metal one flashing green.
“And is it true?” Moss asked, irritated with the entire situation. It had taken them longer than he had wanted even to get here and now that they were, he did not want to engage in petty squabbles when he could be out searching for his friends.
“No,” she stated, and the women around her all snickered.
“We can check the vid,” Gibbs reminded her.
“So, do it! Go away and check,” she said, rolling her eyes to the great bemusement of her friends. Moss could feel his blood boiling.
“All right,” Moss began, his tone serious and grim, “maybe I’ll just take that fucking arm and juice her.”
Gibbs seemed as shocked as the women and the green-haired woman hissed, “Yes!”
“Hey,” Gibbs said, putting a hand on Moss’s arm as he reached for his weapon.
“Listen to your friend,” the woman said, still trying to sound tough through tremulous words.
“Give her back her fucking power,” Moss seethed, not blinking, hardly breathing. His vision narrowed to her alone, and the world went quiet. The woman did not say anything in reply. She simply hung her head and flipped open a panel on her arm, pressing a few buttons. Moss watched as the light began to blink yellow, then red and the woman behind him gave a little cheer. Gibbs turned and shook his head to silence her enthusiasm.
“What do you say?” Moss growled, cold power in his words.
“W—what?” she stammered, looking up from her arm, sounding weak.
“What do you say?” Moss repeated.
“Sorry,” the woman offered like a child caught doing something they shouldn’t.
“Yeah, you fucking are!” the green-haired woman shouted.
“Get out of here!” Moss told her, and she moved away quickly. “And you,” Moss turned back to the short woman, “don’t pull this shit again. Life is hard enough in here without turning on each other.”
“Sorry,” she said with a hangdog look.
“What?” he snarled.
“Sorry, sir,” she amended.
“Get out of here,” he ordered, and the group dispersed, hurrying away down an alley. Moss turned to face the open plaza in which they were standing. People were beginning to push old carts on makeshift wheels into position. The space would become a bustling little market soon.
Gibbs looked at Moss and sighed. “Whoa.”
“What?” Moss snapped, not having calmed down.
“That didn’t take long,” he said almost sheepishly.
Moss turned on him angrily. “What didn’t?”
“You,” Gibbs began, “to become like them.”
Moss snorted. “Like who?”
“Nothing, forget it,” Gibbs tried to drop it, taking a step away from Moss.
“No, like who?” Moss repeated, shaking his head and returning to himself.
“Like the other guards,” he said in nearly a whisper.
Moss took a breath, calming down. “I’m not like them.”
“All right,” he said, sounding unconvinced.
“I’m not, it’s just,” he trailed off before continuing, “it’s just hard enough without treating others this way. People shouldn’t lose their humanity simply because they are in here.”
“I agree,” Gibbs said, and the implication was clear in his words.
They saw an elderly woman pushing a cart. The thin, gray hair stood out in patches against liver-spotted skin. Her frail body was hunched like a vulture as she shuffled slowly, straining under the weight of the cart. They went over to help her get set up.
“No,” she said as they approached.
“We were hoping to help,” Moss explained.
“No,” she repeated, and as Moss was beginning to formulate a response, a yell cut through the air.
“Guard,” a familiar voice screamed, and Moss and Gibbs turned at once. They saw Judy, covered in fresh bruises and welts helping a staggering Ynna who was pouring blood. They rushed over, and Gibbs scooped up Ynna and carried her over to a cement bench off to the side of the plaza.
“Ran into some old friends of hers,” Judy explained. “I got her out of it, but she’ll need some time.”
“She needs a doctor,” Moss stated as Gibbs tried to stem the bleeding from Ynna’s nose.
Judy shook their head and stated plainly, “No, we don’t need any extra attention.”
“And you, how you holding up?” Moss worried.
“It’s been a long few days, but they were mostly interested in how to get to you,” Judy explained.
“I’m so sorry,” Moss said.
“We all knew what we signed up for,” Judy said, putting an arm on Moss’s shoulder but retracting it quickly as they realized how it would appear to others.
“And you’re okay so far in here?” Moss asked.
“You think it’s the first time I’ve had to try and explain gray to dumbasses who know only black and white? It’s been like this my whole life. I’ll get a chance to teach them a thing or two. I actually think they were more pissed that one of their own had fallen in with criminals like you. I used to work for Carcer, remember?” they said with a smirk, and while he knew Judy was just trying to placate him, it worked.
