6 – Voices

Tony grunted as he slid the plates off his barbell and racked them up. Nora was governing his new arm so it wouldn't contribute more than his left one—kind of important when it came to strength training, otherwise he'd build up his supporting muscles unevenly. The arm's control software had settings to simulate exhaustion, too, so both his arms felt equally limp and feeble after his workout. He grabbed his towel and sat down on the bench, wiping his brow.

Golden's was always bustling in the early morning, but never overly so; he didn't have trouble finding free benches or machines. The thing he liked the most about working out early, though, was that the regulars all kept to themselves. They were there to get work done before the day started. That said, he was a little surprised when a kid walked over to him.

He couldn't have been more than fifteen or sixteen, and his short black hair and oversized T-shirt made him seem even younger. When he stopped in front of Tony, glancing left and right nervously, Tony couldn't help a paranoid shiver running down his spine. With a thought, he powered up his arm to a hundred percent and shifted so he was ready to strike. What was he thinking—that the kid was some kind of child assassin? A banger wannabe slipped a thousand Sol-bits to try to take him out? He'd heard of worse.

"Um, are you, uh, Shepherd?"

"Who's asking?"

The kid's big brown eyes widened in confusion. "M-me?"

Tony didn't see any weapons, so that meant the kid would have to reach behind him to pull a knife or gun. There was no way he'd be wired faster than Tony's arm, so Tony relaxed a little, offering him a half smile. "I'm Shepherd. What's up?"

"Uh, I'm supposed to give you this." He started to stick his hand under his baggy shirt, but Tony's hand shot out, quick as a mongoose, and grabbed his wrist.

"What you reaching for?" Tony asked as the kid stumbled back, pulling against his iron grasp.

"A ch-chip! Shit, preddie, let go!"

Tony tightened his grip, irritated at the slur. He felt the kid's narrow little wrist bones bending toward each other. "Don't call me that." He eased his grip—but only a little. "I don't mess with kids."

"Well, quit grabbing me!"

Tony stood up, lifting the kid's wrist high, twisting to force him to spin around. Nora didn't detect any weapons, so he let go. "Let's have it, then."

As the kid stepped back, rubbing his wrist, scowling, Tony saw Golden step out of his office, staring his way. His arched eyebrow and tilted head asked, "All good?" Tony flashed him a thumbs-up as his wannabe messenger pulled a tiny black plastic chip out of his pocket and held it out.

"Take it."

Tony sat back down and looked at the kid, ignoring the offered chip. "What's your name?"

"Trevon."

Tony nodded. "Cool. So, who wants you to give that to me?"

Trevon shrugged. "Some geezer."

"A geezer, huh?" Tony snorted. "Like me, or older?"

"How do I know? Something like you, I guess."

"What did he look like?"

He shrugged again. "Tall. Corpo-creep style."

"Like corpo-sec or suit?"

"Suit. He had on specs, though—blurred out my eye mods."

"He paid you to bring this to me?"

"Yeah, man. I don't know shit, okay?"

Tony held out his hand, nodding. "All right, get out of here. We're good."

Trevon dumped the chip into his palm and turned to hustle out of the gym. Tony watched him leave, then looked at the chip in his hand, frowning at its unusual design. "This isn't meant for a standard data port, is it, Nora?"

"That's a Mark-1 spiral-stack data chip—the precursor to today's Gen-4 helix chips. It won't fit into your data port, but you could purchase an adapter. Alternatively, if you want to avoid the risk of viral contamination, I could search City Net for an older deck with the appropriate port."

"Yeah, do that. I can pick it up on the way back to the warehouse." Tony stood and picked up the sani-spray dispenser from the rack. He sprayed a thin layer on the bench and the barbell, then wiped them down with a rag. That done, he threw his towel over his shoulder and went into the locker room. It was quiet, hot, and steamy in there, and he put himself on automatic, showering and getting dressed while his mind worried at the mystery of the outdated data chip.

Was it some kind of tip-off—a clue about Boxer or some other corp? Was it a threat? Was it a job offer? There were too many options for him to have any solid idea, but for some reason, he didn't think it was a good thing. A "corpo geezer" sending him the chip via a random street kid meant that he wasn't supposed to know where it came from. More than that, whoever had sent it to him didn't want to be associated with Tony, meaning they were being watched.

Of course, it was entirely possible that Tony was overthinking it. Even so, he continued to spiral down paranoid avenues, and by the time he was dressed and walking out of the locker room, new ideas had entered his mind. "Nora, you don't see a signal coming off this chip, do you?"

"No, I started scanning it periodically as soon as Trevon first displayed it in his hand."

"Nice." Nora was proving to be a damn good PAI. She'd taken a little work to train, but now that she understood the way he operated, she was proving to be one hell of a self-starter. "And you located a deck for sale?" She'd updated his mini-map with a stop while he was in the shower.

"Yes. Able's Electronics has more than one candidate listed on their City Net page."

Tony stepped out just as the van pulled up. "Damn, Nora. That was good timing. When did you tell the van to come around?"

"As you were drying off from the shower. Your average time to get dressed and leave the gym is just over seven minutes, and the van was parked at—"

"I get it, I get it. Anyway, nice job." Tony climbed into the driver's seat and engaged the AI to follow the route Nora had programmed. He liked driving—sometimes—but lately he'd been all too happy to let the van's AI do it. Traffic in the Blast was a pain in the ass most of the time, which took away any opportunities for driving that he found "fun." So, while he sat there, letting the van do its thing, he contemplated the chip in his hand.

He supposed he could contact Glitch and ask for advice. She probably had a device that could read it, but that would mean getting her involved if it were some kind of trap. For the same reason, he figured he'd take a look at it before he mentioned it to Addie, too. "What happened to no more secrets?" he muttered, remembering how, on more than one occasion, Addie had wrung that promise out of him.

It didn't matter, though. He had his own little code of ethical behavior, and the number one thing on his list of commandments was to try to keep Addie safe. That rule superseded all other considerations or promises. He'd take a look at the chip and then, if it didn't contain some nebulous threat or danger, he'd share it with Addie. He sighed, leaning back in his seat, shifting left and right to try to get comfortable on the worn-out, ripped cushion.

The uncomfortable seat made him think of all the repairs and upgrades the van needed, which got him thinking about the job they'd decided to do for the chop-doc, Katz. He'd ordered some parts, and when Addie got back from her meeting with Pyroshi, he'd promised to let her help him install some of the mods. All in all, it was the kind of day he'd usually look forward to, but now he had the damn chip to worry about…

He glanced at his mini-map: four minutes ETA to the electronics shop. "You can make sure the deck I buy is offline, right?"

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

"Absolutely. I suggest picking up an interface cable so I can manually disable all wireless protocols. That way, when you slot the chip, the risk of embedded daemons transmitting metadata will be minimal."

"Minimal?"

"Next to nonexistent, considering there's no way that whoever sent you that chip will be able to predict what device you'll use to access it."

When the van pulled up outside the shop, Tony hopped out and said, "Nora, have the van stay double-parked, but if it draws any attention, just circle the block."

"On it."

Inside the little shop, Tony walked straight to the counter, where an older man in a sweat-stained T-shirt sat eating a steaming bowl of oatmeal. He looked up, his specs flickering with tiny lights. "Help you find something?" He had some food stuck in his mostly gray beard, and Tony tried not to focus on it. Instead, he peered around the cluttered shop.

"Looking for an old deck—one with a port for something like this." Tony held out his palm, displaying the mysterious little chip.

"Ah, that's an old nexus-style mem card. You don't need an old deck. I can just sell you an adapter."

Tony shook his head. "Nah, I want to keep it off-line, so I'll just buy an old deck. I mean, unless a new deck and adapter are cheaper somehow."

The old guy chuckled, shaking his head. "Nah. I've got some Versa Leopards around here. Bought 'em from Boxer when they upgraded. I'll sell you one for twenty-five."

"Twenty-five bits?"

"Yeah." The clerk breathed heavily through his nose as he walked out from behind his counter, and Tony tried not to stare when he noticed his swollen, purple-veined calves. The man grunted as he shuffled around, then bent to slide open a plastic display case. A moment later, he stood, holding up a beige device about the size of an old-school deck of cards. "Here we go. I've had it for a while, but when I bought the lot, they were all wiped and factory reset, so it ought to be good."

"I'll need a power adapter and a data cable too—one that can plug into a modern data port."

"Yeah, no problem." He grunted again, reaching down to rifle through the cabinet. "Power adapter comes with it, but the data cable will cost you another ten."

"Ten bits for the cable, but the deck is only twenty-five?" Tony snorted, shaking his head.

"Well, the cable's new, and people still need 'em. These decks are…" He trailed off, shrugging.

Tony waved a hand. "Nah, don't sweat it. I just thought it was funny, that's all." When a payment icon appeared on his AUI, Tony authorized Nora to pay, then grabbed the deck and cables and stepped outside. The van was still there, so he slipped into the driver's seat and got it moving toward home.

He tried to power on the deck, but it was dead, so he plugged it into one of the outlets on the van's center console and, after a few seconds, he tried again. This time, the switch lit up green, and the little screen flashed through a few booting animations. While he waited, he plugged the data cable into the port at the base of his neck. Holding the other end near the deck, he asked, "Safe to plug in?"

"Firewalls are up and ready."

Tony stuck the prong into the deck. "Just kill anything I won't need to access the chip—especially the wireless protocols."

"Working on it."

Tony watched the traffic go by for a few seconds, then glanced at his map. He'd be home in seventeen minutes. A small, bulbous passenger car backed out in front of the van, and the AI barely avoided smashing into it. Grabbing the wheel for balance, Tony glared at the driver, but then he saw it was an extremely elderly lady, and he looked away, shaking his head. "Any problems, Nora?"

"No, I'm almost done. Some of the settings I've adjusted required a reboot." Another minute passed, and then she said, "The deck is ready. You should remove my cable in case there's some high-tier attack daemon on that chip."

"Right," Tony said, unplugging the cable from the deck and his data port. Then, he took the tiny black chip and pushed it into the slot on the base of the deck. The screen flashed twice and then, in yellow text on a blue background, a prompt appeared:

When Fancy hit the mat, he said:

Tony stared at the prompt, his face impassive. Despite his stillness, his mind raced with images of Eric, and with them, the memories he'd only recently allowed himself to face. He saw Emily laughing, sipping wine, and he heard the crack of Jen's stinger, and felt the gut-wrenching despair and blinding rage all over again. He threw the deck onto the passenger seat and grabbed the steering wheel, squeezing until his knuckles turned white.

"Tony, your heart rate is spiking. Is there something I should do?"

He ignored Nora, his mind still reviewing the memories of his time with Eric—that was who the chip was from. It had to be. Fancy was a fighter they'd both known, a guy who'd been their friend around the time when Tony and Eric first started working together. It was a prompt with an answer only Tony would know—a memory that was impossible to forget, something they'd laughed about a hundred times over the years.

Tony glanced at the deck. Should he answer it? Should he activate whatever Eric sent him? A message? A threat? A bullshit apology? Whatever it was, there was a good chance it was meant to mess with Tony's head. Should he just pretend he never received it? Growling, he reached over and picked it up; pretending wouldn't help him. The kid had brought it to him, looking for Shepherd. That meant Eric knew what he was up to; he knew how to find him. Gritting his teeth, he tapped the little keyboard on the screen, responding to the prompt:

When Fancy hit the mat, he said: Why'd I eat all those onions?

Abstractly, the line wasn't so funny, but if you knew the story, you'd have to laugh. At least, that was what Tony used to think—he wasn't laughing now. The blue screen flashed, and then a vid started playing. It was Eric standing on a featureless white plane. He put his hands into the pockets of his designer slacks and shrugged, looking into the camera as he spoke. "I know you're pissed. You probably want to take this chip and snap it in half without hearing what I have to say. I guess I'll keep talking and assume you didn't do that, though.

"I won't waste our time by saying I'm sorry or by claiming I didn't know Jen was going to do what she did. It doesn't matter, right? If I'd been a good friend, I would have gone to war with her. I'd be there with you, right? Or, I guess, more likely, we'd both be dead. I mean, I was supposed to kill you. I didn't think Jen even knew you were alive. Shows how dumb I am, right?

"Yeah, all this time, I thought I'd gotten one over on her. I thought I'd fought back in my own small, cowardly way by letting you live. The only thing I can think of is that fucking peacock doctor of hers squealed. He must have told her I made him leave some of your gear—anything that would've killed you to remove."

Tony pressed his finger to the screen, pausing the vid. He stared, letting his mind process Eric's words. Did he feel better? Was he glad that Eric hadn't wanted him to die? Could he forgive him? The answer was no, of course. Eric was right; they both ought to be dead after what Jen had done. They both should have gone out fighting. Even if they hadn't, if Eric had played along to keep from being…dead, then he ought to be with Tony right now. He should have run away with him. But he'd dumped him. He'd dumped him, and then he'd gone right back to Jen, pretending that Tony was dead and everything was cool.

Scowling, he tapped the screen again, and Eric continued, "Anyway, it's just dumb luck that I'm sending you this message. I was in the office yesterday when I saw a man signing over a package for Jen. It was late, and I could see that Jen's assistant was getting ready to leave, so I walked over and offered to take it up. She's new, but she knows me, so she was quick to hand it over. I don't know what got into me, man, but for some reason, I was curious about what was in the envelope."

Eric paused, looking up as he clearly contemplated something. After a moment, he shrugged. "I guess maybe it's the paranoia that comes from working in the line of work we do. Anyway, I took it to my office and opened it up. Inside, found a small note and a data chip. The note said simply, 'The footage you wanted,' and it was signed by 'Matt from Yukon Security.' Yeah, that made me even more curious, so I gave the chip to Vesper and told her to crack it. You know how quick she is. I was only halfway home when she sent me the unencrypted file. Guess what was on it?"

Tony scowled, muttering, "Fuck off, Eric. I'm not your buddy anymore."

Eric smiled into the camera without missing a beat and said, "You were, buddy."

Tony gasped, tapping the screen. Eric's use of the word right after Tony freaked him out so much that he looked around, his neck tingling like someone was about to slit his throat. "Nora, there's no way this deck is transmitting, right?"

"No signal at all."

Tony scowled, then tapped the screen again. "Yeah, man. I know you don't trust me anymore. I know I burned that bridge and, what's more, I'm probably at the top of your kill list, but I figured maybe I can earn a little grace by telling you this. The guy had footage of you. He had audio of you talking to people. It was in a club down there, so I have no idea who was recording you—him or someone working for him. Bro, there's footage of you fighting and…" Eric paused, looked down and to the left, clicking his tongue. When he looked back at the camera, he seemed genuinely sorrowful. "The vid had footage of you kissing a girl—yellow jacket, red hair."

Tony's stomach sank. He made a fist, thumping it against his forehead over and over as Eric continued, "I'm gonna make this PI disappear, but not before I question him. I'll find out what Jen knows already, and if it's not much, I'll put together a bullshit report about him not being able to find anything on you. Then, like I said, he's gonna take a trip to nowhere. I know this doesn't make up for what I did to you, what I'm still doing, but I hope it might save you some more heartache. Brother, if you care about that girl, you gotta, like… You gotta go, man." He shrugged, spreading his hands to display empty palms. "I'm sorry, T."

The vid ended, and then a window popped up with an OS message:

Video file deleted and data chip formatted.

"Dammit," Tony groaned. "Nora, save my mem buffer. I mean the part that has me watching that vid."

"I have it, but that video was AI-generated. There's a good chance that man wrote the script, but any AI that analyzed it would recognize its inauthenticity."

"So it's not real?"

"No."

"Well, it doesn't matter. Only Eric would know that stuff. Only he would know to say those things. He just wanted plausible deniability in case Jen got her hands on that chip."

"Yes, I suppose he could claim you created it if you tried to expose him."

"Yeah." Tony leaned back in his seat, stuffing the deck into his coat pocket. He felt numb, like a version of himself that knew how to get through life without feeling had been activated. A voice in his mind was telling him it was time to go—time to get away from Addie before he got her killed. Another voice, maybe a little quieter, but still steady, still worth listening to, was telling him he needed to talk to her. He needed to tell her what was going on.

In a perfect world, he supposed, he'd be able to listen to those two voices and pick the one that made the most sense to listen to. It wasn't a perfect world, and that wasn't how things were going to go, though. The thing was, there was a third voice, and it was screaming at him. It was saying things like, "You're Tony Santoro. Quit playing kids' games and get your shit together. Get your guns and go kill those motherfuckers."

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