"Digital Plague" - читать интересную книгу автора (Somers Jeff)

III Day Three: Good Luck with the Folks from Public Health

Making an effort to keep my adrenaline under control, I studied Reggie’s face for a second or two and concluded that I saw real fear there, but whether it was because he was caught breaking some laws or because he was afraid I was about to have Gleason slit his throat, I couldn’t tell. “Who’s coming, then?”

“Aren’t you listening? Public Health.” His piggy little eyes danced on me and he reached up to take the last stub of cigarette from his mouth and toss it onto the floor. “But it doesn’t matter what fucking department. It means Spooks, Avery. Psionics. The fucking Spooks have sealed the building. Oh, fuck me.”

I turned and nodded at Glee. She turned and tried the door, but it didn’t respond.

“It won’t open,” Reggie almost wailed. “The building’s been sealed. Oh, fuck you, you fucking piece of trash. I’m fucking ruined.”

I turned back to Reggie and pointed at the door.

“Open it up, Reg,” I said.

He shrugged, a massive fleshquake that went on and on. “I can’t, Avery-the building’s sealed.”

I nodded. I had a suspicion this would turn out to be System Pigs no matter what the shell announcement said, and if I was right that meant they were coming for me. “If I twist your nose, Reggie, I will break it. I won’t really mean to, but it’ll happen. You’ll stain your shirt and, knowing you, probably piss your pants. And then you’re going to hit the panic button wired into the door and let us out anyway. So save yourself the trouble.”

Reggie looked at Glee, but didn’t seem to like the blank expression on her face. I snapped my fingers under his nose, making him jump. “Damn, Reggie, you take your Health Department actions pretty fucking seriously, huh?”

He wiped a hand over his face. “You don’t-”

I made a feint at his nose, and he slammed back against the strangling wall of his office.

“Tell me I don’t understand again.”

Keeping his eyes on me, he reached forward and gestured, fat hands moving with surprising delicacy through a complex series of positions. Behind us, the door opened with a snick. I scooped my portable shell from its dock and dropped it into my coat. “Good luck with the folks from Public Health, Reg,” I said, turning. Glee spun with me and let me move ahead of her.

None of the other doors were open. I imagined people in each one, in their tiny offices, like beetles tied to pins. In the entryway, the Droid spun its blank oval head toward us in a creepy, doomed attempt to appear human.

“For your safety, please return to your office,” it said, projecting its voice over the building shell. “Your face has been scanned and transmitted to the System Security Force for reference. One citizen and one unknown. For your safety, please return to your office.”

Glee strode forward toward the entry door, but it didn’t budge for her. “Don’t bother,” I said. “You’ve got to release each one separately.” I started trying to replicate the gesture Reggie had made in his office. As I tried to will my hand into the right series of positions, I glanced up at Glee, who’d flashed out her blade again and stood ready, bouncing a little on the balls of her feet. She looked incredibly young, but then I’d been doing shank jobs in the street for food money when I’d been fifteen.

My third guess at the gesture snapped the office door open. Glee poked her head out into the hall and nodded, glancing back at me. “All clear.” She looked pink and shiny, like something very hot was inside her, melting.

“Attention, HD lockdown violation on seventy-fifth floor,” the building shell announced immediately. I pushed myself toward the door.

“Get back!” I shouted.

She spun to face me, walking backward into the hall, flipping the blade over her knuckles and back again. “Ooh, Avery is protective. Avery is a father figure,” she said, grinning. I lumbered as fast as I could at the doorway and slammed into her, knocking her down onto the floor and pinning her blade arm under one elbow. I looked up, panting, as she squirmed beneath me.

“Avery, what the fuck?”

The hallway was empty. Glee was frowning up at me, her face flushed, her hair matted damply to her forehead. I lifted my arm and thrust a finger under her nose.

“What the fuck, kid, is-”

A loud crash made us both whip our heads around in time to see ceiling panels drop to the floor as two plump spheres appeared from above.

“-Security Droids,” I finished. “Get up slow and stay behind me.”

“Citizen,” the building shell boomed through the hallway, “please lie facedown on the floor and await security personnel.”

I held a finger against my lips without looking away. “Pretty harmless. They just herd the taxpayers as long as the taxpayers don’t do anything wonky. But you were never registered, kid-you’re a blank, and they don’t like blanks, okay? They will fire on you. And your blade won’t do anything against them.” I patted her cheek. “So stay behind me, okay?”

She nodded, nose runny, eyes wide. “Okay.” She looked fifteen again.

“Citizen, please lie facedown on the floor and await security personnel.”

I knew the Droids wouldn’t fire on a citizen; they’d just browbeat me to death. I stood up and made sure I was between them and Glee. The Droids just floated, two gleaming black balls, emitting a soft, deep hum I could feel in my chest.

“The elevators,” I said. “Slow. Stay behind me.”

We scuttled awkwardly backward.

“Citizen, please lie facedown on the floor and await security personnel.”

“Where do we go?” Glee whispered. “If the System Pigs are coming, they’re coming down the elevators, right?”

I nodded. “Eleven eighty-five Sixth Avenue,” I said over my shoulder, eyes on the humming Droids as they herded us, “is an old building, Glee. Built before fireproof materials.”

I bumped into her and stopped. “Elevator,” she said.

I grinned at the Droids. “And thus it has a standard public-access fire alarm system,” I said, and gestured.

Immediately, a piercing alarm erupted like a solid thing all around us, and the building shell started talking over itself, first telling me to get on the floor and then announcing a fire emergency. Behind me, I heard the whoosh of the elevator doors as they opened, and every door in the hall snapped open at the same time.

“Fucking chaos,” Glee said. “I fucking love it. Avery’s a fucking genius.”

I was loved and adored by adolescent girls everywhere.

I backed my way into the cab, the Droids following just a foot away. When I was barely inside I reached over and gestured, and the doors shut. The cab immediately started heading down.

“Where are we going?” Glee asked, grinning at me. I tried to keep my face straight, but I smiled back, feeling an unfamiliar and not unwelcome energy bristling inside me. I peered at the kid-she was so flushed and sweaty I worried for a moment that I’d missed something, that she’d gotten tagged somehow.

“In these old pre-Uni buildings,” I said, “in event of a fire they can’t very well send you up to the roof to watch in horror while the building burns, kiddo. So they send you down to a bunker below street level.” I’d gotten so used to giving Glee these little lessons I almost didn’t notice I was doing it anymore. I got down on one knee and laced my hands together. “Come on, I’ll give you a boost.”

She squinted at me. “Where am I going? Why not just walk out of the bunker?”

I nodded. “Sure, if you want to get killed. Kid, they can see this elevator moving right now. If they’re of a mind to intercept us, all they have to do is wait downstairs for us. So, we’re going up.”

She nodded dubiously, putting one old cracked boot into my hands and grabbing onto my shoulders for balance. I took a deep breath and hauled her up toward the maintenance hatch of the cab. “Up?” she said as she traced its lines with her fingers. “How far up? They invented elevators so we didn’t have to, you know, climb and shit.”

“Just the second floor,” I said. “You lazy kid. We’ll be able to make a jump from there.”

With a soft ooh, she found the latch and the maintenance hatch released, hanging down and instantly forming a little ladder for us. A breeze rushed into the cab, making the stray strands of Glee’s red hair whip around. She reached forward and pulled herself onto the ladder without waiting, and in a second had disappeared above me. I took a breath and followed her, emerging onto the top of the elevator just as it coasted to a stop, making us both dance a little to keep our balance. I looked around, squinting, and spied the maintenance ladder clinging precariously to the shaft wall behind Glee. I nodded at it, and she turned to examine it.

“This? You want us to climb this?” She looked back at me over her shoulder. “It’s rusted. It looks like it’s a hundred years old.”

“It might be,” I said. “Ladies first.”

She made a face and I grinned. I was getting soft in my old age. This shit was almost fun. I knew I should be worried-I’d been betrayed, fucked with, and now might end my day with a bullet in the ear. I should be in a bad mood, but instead I was feeling… good.

Glee took hold of the ladder and started pulling herself up. I jumped up right behind her and followed to the next elevator bay.

“Pull this manual release lever?” she called down, and then pulled it without waiting. The outer elevator doors split open with a rusty scrape. Light and music and the hum of a crowd sifted into the shaft and fell on me like dust, weightless. She pulled herself across and up through the doors. I followed as quickly as I could, panting a little as I stretched myself, reaching for the handholds embedded in the ancient concrete.

“Avery’s fat,” Glee said breathlessly from the second floor. “Avery’s fucking huge.” Without transition she burst into a ragged coughing fit, croaking hoarsely.

I squirmed my way up onto the floor and stood, wiping my hands and looking around. The lobby was simple, a dark marble wall a few feet in front of us and a flickering, holographic image of a man in an old-fashioned formal suit, white tie and tails.

“Welcome to Umano,” the holographic man said crisply, appearing to eye us up and down. “You do not have a reservation. Performing credit scan.” After a moment, he brightened. “Welcome, Mr. Cates! And… guest.” I couldn’t tell if it was a true AI hologram or just a projection of an actor in a booth somewhere. “We do have several unfulfilled reservations, and I can seat you. Welcome to Umano.”

Behind the hologram, the entryway seemed to appear out of the stone, thin lines outlining the doorway and getting thicker. A simple enough trick, but impressive looking. This was what people did with yen. I fucking hated being rich. It was exhausting. When you were broke you always thought money would make life easier, but it just gave you more shit to do.

We stepped forward and the world’s greatest holographic man actually stepped aside to let us pass. We stepped through the doorway into the largest single room I’d ever seen. The hum of a hundred conversations going on simultaneously became loud, crushing against us. It looked like every load-bearing column in the whole floor had been removed somehow, and I had an image of the immense and ancient weight of the building above us. It smelled… wonderful. It smelled like real food, and my mouth watered.

To my surprise, an actual person carrying a menu was approaching us, looking tired and pissed off. She was of the usual indeterminate age, blond and blue-eyed, tall and, of course, beautiful. Her legs had been lengthened at some point by some butcher, and she walked up to us with a curious insectoid jerking.

“Welcome to Umano,” she said as she approached. “My name is Mina and I will be your server this morning. Please follow me.”

I blinked. I’d never heard of a restaurant that didn’t use Droids-but that, I supposed, was the gimmick. If you were rich enough, you could afford to have live, actual human beings bring you your food.

As we stepped behind her into the dining room, I heard the second elevator doors open out in the lobby and started moving faster. The room sprawled around us, the whole opposite wall just glass and steel, the surrounding block on display. The tables and chairs were just white cubes-big cubes for the tables, smaller cubes for the seats. They looked like the most uncomfortable things ever devised.

I stepped around our waitress and grabbed Glee’s arm, pushing her ahead of me. I heard the sudden silence of impending ruckus behind us, and we started to run, Glee coughing wetly as she struggled on ahead, the panes of glass temptingly close. Around us, I had the impression of people staring, of the hum getting smaller.

We made it to the windows, smacking into them and pushing our faces against the glass. The feeling of an alarmed and frightened crowd around us was exhilarating. As I’d expected, there was a huge garbage skid on the street below us-the restaurants always had nightly cart-aways. I slapped Glee’s shoulder and we whirled to tear-ass along the window a few feet to position ourselves approximately above our soft-if disgusting-landing. Glee grinned at me, and I couldn’t help but grin back. Landing in a load of rotting imported vegetables was going to be a great story, when she told it.

From behind, I heard a man’s voice, deep and confident, almost completely devoid of any accent-its lack of accent becoming an accent itself. “Mr. Avery Cates!”

I stopped. One moment I was tearing ass, prepared to take up a chair, smash some glass, and make a jump-the next it seemed like a better idea to just stop, and I stumbled to a halt. Glee ran on a few feet and then spun, her face lit up with alarm, snot running from her nose.

“Avery,” she said again. “What the fuck?”

Our eyes met and I pushed as hard as I could, trying to force myself into motion. “Fucking psionic,” I panted. “A Pusher. Keep moving. Go!”

Two men and a woman-kids, really, pink and squeaky-clean-were walking toward me like they owned the place and had just remembered they’d left the lights on. They smelled like cops. They could have been triplets: all white, with dark hair, their faces round in every way-big round eyes that were going to make them look like babies their whole lives, round ears, their skulls globes on top of their necks. The girl was pretty until you realized she was just a female version of the boys. I wanted to turn and check on Glee but couldn’t. The buzz of voices returned with a new urgency, and I could see people talking to the air, using implanted comm units.

“Avery Cates, I presume?” said the kid in the middle, shooting his cuffs and reaching into his jacket pocket, producing a leather wallet. When he flipped it open, he held it up close to my face, with the air of doing me a courtesy. A rainbow-colored hologram proclaimed him to be Richard Shockley, assistant to Undersecretary of the North American Department Calvin Ruberto, one of the shadowy men and women who’d been running things ever since the Joint Council had slipped away into digital senility.

I looked from his ID to his face but said nothing. He snapped the wallet shut and the hologram vanished.

“Mr. Cates,” he said, “I have been asked to come here by Dr. Daniel Terries, director of Public Health, New York Department, to bring you uptown for a conversation.” He spread his hands. “A conversation, only.”

“Sorry, no,” I said, bluffing out of habit. “My sense of civic duty is a little lackluster these days. I’ve got business to attend to.”

He turned to smile around at his two companions, who didn’t look back at him, keeping their eyes on me. The girl was still staring at me, and I wished fervently that she would stop.

From behind, I heard a faint grunt, and Shockley’s hand shot up. Glee’s knife was suddenly suspended in the air between us, hovering as if gravity didn’t apply. A goddamn Telekinetic, I thought. His eyes flicked over my shoulder for a second and my heart lurched. For a moment he stared and then flicked his hand out in a lazy, negligent gesture. I heard Glee scream, followed by the sound of shattering glass. I strained, hoping to hear her soft landing in the garbage, but couldn’t.

The entire restaurant had gone silent. Dimly, I could hear the building shell repeating its warnings in the distance as a stale, stiff breeze buffeted me from behind. The outside air smelled rotten, sweet and fungoid. A wave of disgusted groans filled the air.

Shockley looked at me as the knife fell soundlessly to the carpet. “Mr. Cates,” he said, laughing a little, as I found myself rising an inch or two off the floor. Our eyes met, and his were filled with mean humor, like a boy who delighted in pulling wings off flies. “I am afraid we insist.”