The Devil's Dictionary, page 18
“Shalom Creole Yum?”
Jenka nods at the table of Hasidic men. “Sir Richard has few friends in this community. But I am Moldovan Jew, on my mother’s side. And I do have friends. One of whom”—he nods toward the opening of the alcove—“owns this restaurant and has even more friends than me.”
Lion glances up and sees a handsome Hasidic man with a thick beard and long sidelocks walk into the alcove. He’s in his late fifties, wearing traditional garb: a wide-brimmed black hat, a long black overcoat, a white button-down, and a pair of silver-rimmed glasses low on his nose.
“Barry,” says Jenka, greeting the man with a smile. “Lion Zorn, please meet Barry Rabinowitz, the owner of this fine establishment. He is my almost rabbi.”
Crossing to stand behind Jenka, Barry does something Lion did not believe possible. With the fingers of his left hand, he penetrates the Brylcreem fortress of Jenka’s all-white pompadour, messing up his hair, absently, as one would a small child.
“Jenka,” says Barry, with a heavy Brooklyn accent, “it is good to see you.” He looks at Lion. “And you must be the very famous em-tracker, Lion Zorn.”
As Barry talks, two Hasidic men with tactical shotguns take up flanking positions at the edge of the alcove.
Lion looks at the shotguns. “Do you think the famous em-tracker is going to shoot the catfish?”
“Complicated times,” says Barry. “And when I called you a famous em-tracker, I was not pulling your schmeckel. In my community, you have played a very important role.”
“Is truth,” says Jenka. “I tell them otherwise, but they do not listen.”
“I didn’t know I was an anything in your community.”
“The Torah tells us we are all tangled together,” explains Barry. “Noah did not just put people on the Ark, he put all of God’s creatures. This is why, in the teaching of the Kabbalah, we are taught to conduct a Seder for the trees—a way of wishing them a happy new year and saying thank you. If we forget the trees, then neither the Jews nor anyone else will last very long. We humans breathe second. The trees breathe first. We inhale their exhales. That is the circle of life. Empathy for all, Lion Zorn. We are in your debt. You have reminded my people of something very important that we had forgotten.”
Lion takes a sip of his drink.
Barry glances at the guards. “Mordechai, Joshua, why don’t you head to the loading dock and make sure our friends…”—pointing toward Lion and Jenka—“have everything they need for tomorrow’s adventure.”
After they’re gone, Lion asks, “Tomorrow’s adventure?”
“You didn’t tell him?” says Barry.
“Is reason we are here,” explains Jenka. “Is time, I think, we have conversation with Sir Richard.”
“He’s meeting us here?” asks Lion. “I thought he was in Cambodia.”
“Holo-chat,” continues Jenka.
“And what, we’re just going to ask him about Chang Zee, the snakes, and the secret handshake?”
“We can ask,” responds Jenka, “but Sir Richard is good liar. Is useful talent, I think.” He points at the aquarium. “But is hard to lie to fish.”
“Sir Richard’s gonna notice we’re calling him from an aquarium,” says Lion.
“That,” explains Barry, “is the equipment that Joshua and Mordechai are unloading. We borrowed a holodeck projector from our friends at the Silver Legacy Casino. Jenka tells me that this alcove is about the same size as holo-chat room at PRML. We’re going to make this room look like that room.”
“So we confront Sir Richard and use the fish to read his face?” asks Lion.
“He will never know the difference,” says Barry.
Lion thinks for a second, then remembers what Jenka said. “Jenka called you his almost rabbi.”
“I was almost a rabbi,” says Barry.
“Almost?”
“You know how it goes—God had other plans for me. Now I am an almost rabbi who owns a little club on the shores of Lake Tahoe.”
“An almost rabbi who requires armed guards.”
“Yeah,” says Barry, “that too.”
Jam Yo Hype
Barry pulls out a JOBZ from his pocket. He opens an app and clicks a couple of buttons. A pair of robo-catfish swim into position, directly across from Lion. They peg their eyes to his face, some kind of gaze-lock feature that most people might find unnerving. But Lion’s an em-tracker. He likes catfish—even if they’re robotic.
Jenka says, “You spoke to Alejandra—the Rilkean bartender.”
Lion points at the catfish. “You think I’m going to lie?”
“I do not know,” says Jenka. “Now I will know. What did you talk about?”
Lion takes another sip of bourbon. He definitely appears to be in the process of getting drunk. But that doesn’t seem to be a reason not to tell Jenka and Barry about his conversation with Alejandra.
He walks them through the exchange: the mysterious Professor Zhong, the uproar caused by his book on genetic marketing, the story of the Devil’s Dictionary, the cliff at the bottom of Widowmaker and what he and Lizzy discovered there, including the boot prints belonging to Penelope and Susan. The only thing he doesn’t mention is Penelope’s note about the Moldovan neurotoxin, wondering if he can fool the fish.
When Lion’s finished, Barry glances down at his JOBZ. “Jam-yo-hype meter puts him around seventy-nine percent.”
“Jam yo hype?” asks Jenka.
Lion snorts. “The language setting on the JOBZ, he’s got it set on ‘retro-urban.’”
“Retro-urban or not,” says Barry, “seventy-nine percent is not completely truthful. So what aren’t you telling us?”
“We will come back to that,” interrupts Jenka. “How did Penelope get out of Bypass? The log shows entrance, but not exit. And how did Susan get in? We have no record of her at all, not entering or exiting. According to log, only Sir Richard use staircase.”
“What about the door on the other side of the tunnel?” asks Lion. “The entrance into Killebrew Canyon, near where the ski patroller died—did you check the logs for the door?”
“Is good point. I did not check.”
Barry pulls on his beard. “So, if Sir Richard used the stairway, then he released the snakes that killed Susan Jackson?”
“Susan and Sir Richard were close,” says Jenka. “I do not see this happening.”
Lion asks, “Did Susan work with Richard when Richard worked with Chang Zee? On the neuromarketing project?”
“I don’t know,” replies Jenka. “But we will ask him.”
Lion thinks for a moment. “When Penelope ditched her tracker, it could have been to get away from Sir Richard.”
“That is what I worry about,” says Jenka.
Lion nods. If this is true, then the Moldovan neurotoxin—maybe it has nothing to do with Jenka. But before he can ask, Barry changes the subject. “The Devil’s Dictionary. You think the flying snakes were created by an AI?”
“Lizzy,” Lion explains, “the PRML geneticist, says we don’t have the technology yet.”
“Terrible things happen when you create life for the wrong reasons. It is a sin against God.”
“We’ll know more when the test results come back tomorrow,” says Lion. “I’m meeting Lizzy in the morning. We’re going to watch the explorer-robot inspect the cave.”
“I link computers,” says Jenka. “We watch from here.”
“From here?”
“The meeting with Sir Richard is tomorrow morning,” explains Barry. “It takes a while to set up a fake holo-chat room. We have cottages on the lake. It would be an honor to have you as our guest.”
Lion makes a decision. “If I’m staying over,” he says, turning to Jenka, “you said there was a metric ton of shit I didn’t know about your past.”
“Aha,” says Barry, watching the jam-yo-hype meter on the JOBZ, “this is the thing you are not telling us.”
Lion locks eyes with Jenka. “Does that metric ton happen to include weapons?”
“Weapons?”
“Arms dealing? Gunrunning? Perhaps bioweapons?”
Jenka’s eyes widen. He glances at Barry. “Nobody knows.”
“Nobody knows what?” asks Lion.
Barry gestures toward Lion. “He doesn’t look like nobody.”
“Who told you?” demands Jenka.
“Did the Anti-Nagels tell you?” asks Barry.
“Anti-Nagels?” says Lion. “I’m talking about a neurotoxin.”
Barry looks puzzled. “Did you say neurotoxin?”
“What neurotoxin?” demands Jenka.
“What Anti-Nagels?” asks Lion.
Jenka looks at Barry. Barry looks at Jenka. Lion looks confused.
“Tell him,” says Barry.
“Tell me what?”
Jenka sighs. “Since Splinter, Barry and I have little side venture.”
“What kind of side venture?”
“For fair market value, we have been distributing armaments—for protection purposes only—to certain communities who might otherwise have difficulty obtaining such wares.”
“You’re arming…” says Lion, remembering all the fancy guns he saw at the Anti-Nagel colony. “Fuck, man, you’re arming the poly-tribes?”
“Against Humans First,” says Jenka.
“You’re a hacker—where are the guns coming from?” Then Lion realizes and looks at Barry.
“In my business,” says Barry, “one cannot be too careful.”
“Your business?”
“Staying alive,” says Barry.
“You disapprove?” asks Jenka. “I thought you might understand.”
“Bioweapons,” says Lion, shaking his head.
“I don’t know anything about bioweapons,” says Jenka. “This is not something I would deal. What are you talking about?”
“A certain Moldovan neurotoxin?”
Jenka doesn’t react.
“You don’t know what I’m talking about?”
“What are you talking about?”
Lion tells them about Penelope’s note, the missing letters in the quotes from William James and how those letters spell the words Moldovan neurotoxin.
“Penelope was trying to tell us the snake venom that killed Susan and that ski patroller, it’s not venom, it’s a Moldovan neurotoxin.”
Their food arrives. A troop of robo-mermaids whirls plates before them. Once they depart, the table descends into silence. Then Jenka looks at them in disgust and says, “Moldovan neurotoxin,” as if he needs to spit.
Regular or Gangster?
The booze and food push Lion into a hazy space. Like being underwater. Like his brain is made from string. They talk about possible reasons Sir Richard and Chang Zee might be collaborating. They talk about possible meanings for the words Moldovan neurotoxin. Every time Lion says the phrase, Jenka winces, as if slapped in the face.
Barry asks about Lion’s past.
“What about…”
Jenka throws down his napkin and jumps to his feet. “The rotten truth of this Moldovan neurotoxin,” he snarls. “I will investigate.”
“That’s the spirit,” says Barry. “And maybe take a look at this Professor Zhong while you’re at it.”
“His PhD thesis,” says Lion. “What’s that about? And does Zhong have any kind of relationship with Chang Zee?”
“Dah,” says Jenka.
“The digital access logs,” adds Lion, “for the gates into Killebrew Canyon, don’t forget those.”
“I am not stupid,” mutters Jenka. He turns toward Barry. “Where did they park hoverbike? I left computer in saddle bag. I need computer to investigate.”
“The upper garage,” replies Barry. “But don’t worry about it. I’ll have Mordechai bring it to your cottage. It’s number five. You want regular tonight, right? Not gangster?”
“Dah,” says Jenka, “regular is fine.” Then he glares at Lion. “But he is guest, so give him gangster.”
Jenka stomps off.
Lion asks, “Regular or gangster?”
“We are a private club,” says Barry, as if that explained it.
“For gangsters?”
Barry looks around the room, which is still half full of Hasidic men. “For lonely men with lonely jobs.”
“I’m pretty drunk,” says Lion. “So I might be missing something.”
“It’s not important,” replies Barry with a cryptic smile. He stands up. “But you have had more than enough excitement for one day. Let’s get you to your cottage.”
They stroll out of the restaurant, across a back porch and down a flight of steps, heading toward a dirt path that drops down a steep hill. They follow the path down the hill, passing into a dense pine forest, the full moon illuminating tall trees all around them. Eventually they come out of the forest at a row of cottages on the shores of Lake Tahoe.
Lion hears the quiet lap of waves intermixed with the reedy whisper of insects.
Barry stares at him, thinking something through. “Gangster,” he says eventually, “I think gangster.”
“What?”
“Take the third cottage. The one with the pink shutters.”
Barry pulls out his JOBZ, fiddles with the device, then look at Lion. “All set. The full effect. Have fun.” Then he turns away, waves his hand once, and disappears into the night.
Bed, thinks Lion, must get to bed.
He trudges over to the cottage, climbs up the stairs and onto the porch, then heads inside.
Cute and small.
A living room with an overstuffed couch, a kitchen off to one side, with a large gift basket on the table, and the bedroom in back. Lion heads straight past the kitchen and into the bedroom and clicks on the light.
What the hell?
While the rest of the house looks like a seaside cottage, the bedroom is a different story. The furniture is elegant and modern, the lighting dim. But it’s the bed that catches his attention, an oversized king, with shimmery black sheets and two women lying naked atop them, one Russian, the other Chinese.
Both are holograms.
The Russian hologram smiles and pats the bed beside her. The Chinese hologram points at the nightstand. Lion follows her finger and sees a pair of Hard Pump VR goggles, one of the newer models, complete with haptic penis sleeve and fetish-accessory kit.
“Gangster,” says Lion, shaking his head.
Without bothering to get undressed, he climbs into bed, closes his eyes, and passes out. He wakes a few hours later, fully clothed and completely disoriented. Looking around, he sees writhing ghost bodies on either side of him.
He’d forgotten to shut off the holograms.
Lion finds the control on the nightstand, switches off the naked women, and wonders why he is awake.
Unsure of the answer, Lion gets out of bed and makes his way to the kitchen. He downs two glasses of water while examining the gift basket. Fresh fruit, chocolate, a selection of marijuana edibles and smokables, two bottles of wine, and a silver tin of anti-hangover tabs.
Lion picks up the tin of anti-hangover tabs.
These things never work, he thinks, but takes three anyway.
As he’s washing them down, Lion realizes it was a question Jenka had asked him—something about his conversation with Ichika—that’s what woke him up.
But all Jenka asked was what Lion and Ichika had talked about.
He replays his conversation with Ichika in his mind. She told him about the warlord and the Suicide Girls, and that the funds from the betting site were paying for two projects: the Devil’s Dictionary and Pandora II. The Devil’s Dictionary is the name of the AI that creates life from scratch. But Lion still doesn’t know what Pandora II means—could that be what woke him?
Maybe.
Then it clicks. Right before the explosion, Ichika said, “The trail leads to New York.”
So what’s in New York? That’s the question that pulled him from his slumber.
But he has no time to consider the answer, as Barry bursts into the cabin shouting, “The lion has roared, who will not fear?”
“What the hell?”
“Scripture,” says Barry, looking around for the first time, noticing the darkness. “Were you asleep?”
“Sort of.”
“Jenka said you’d be finished with the girls and smoking a joint. He said, well…”—shaking his head—“I will leave you, never mind.”
“Tell me why you’re here.”
“The Moldovan neurotoxin,” says Barry, pulling his JOBZ from his pocket. “You have to watch this video.”
“Let’s go sit on the porch,” says Lion, grabbing a joint from the gift basket and heading for the door.
The V-2 Strategy
“What am I watching?” asks Lion.
“Just look,” says Barry, holding out the JOBZ so he can see the screen.
It shows a video of a teenage girl walking through an open-air market. She’s maybe seventeen, with shoulder-length black hair and very blue eyes.
“That’s the Green Market,” explains Barry. “In Tiraspol.”
“Tiraspol?”
“Moldova,” says Barry. “Keep watching.”
The girl crosses to the edge of the stalls, pauses to inspect a potato, then starts into the parking lot. She passes a line of autonomous taxis and an old black van and that’s when it happens. Before she takes another step, a tranquilizer dart strikes her in the neck.
“No shit,” says Lion.
“Keep watching.”
The girl grabs the dart, starts to wobble, tries to steady herself, then drops like a stone. Before she hits the ground, the van’s door flies open and a man in a black ski mask grabs the girl beneath the armpits and hauls her inside. The door shuts and the van backs out of the space. The windows are tinted, so the driver is invisible.
“That’s it?” he asks.
“Keep watching.”
After a few seconds of white noise, a second video starts to play. It shows a different angle of the same scene. There must have been a second camera facing the parking lot.
Lion sees the rear of the van pulling away, the license plate covered in mud. The driver stops at the end of a row of cars and a man in a ski mask carrying what looks like a guitar case steps out from between parked cars, opens the passenger door, and climbs inside.
