Reality Matrix Effect (9781310151330) (8 page)

“Please exit to the rear of the bus,” he
added.

Rayna allowed herself to be jostled along
until she found herself standing on a street corner adjacent to the
Hover-Tours station.

What do I do now?
she asked herself as
she crossed the street and continued walking without any particular
destination.
Who the hell am I?
  She was the child of a
Jewish “father” and an Italian Catholic “mother” who had emphasized
the importance of ethics and honest communication, yet had failed
to tell her she was adopted. The Kingmans were never told anything
about her true parentage, they insisted. And according to the
computer, the adoption records were sealed. She’d need a court
order to open them. That meant a lawyer.

A lawyer?  She halted suddenly,
permitting a smile to spread slowly across her face.
Keith.
Keith’s a lawyer. And he’s only minutes away by Trans-Mat.

Rayna looked about and spotted a single
Trans-Mat booth on the corner. A curtain of gloom lifted. She was
sure Keith could help her.

Her mind wandered happily as she made her way
to the booth. She knew Keith’s coordinates by heart. She entered
them on the control board and inserted her universal transaction
card in the appropriate slot. A readout showed her account had been
charged the correct amount, and she pressed the “transmit” button.
She could feel the usual light-headedness as the transmission
process began. A moment later, she stood in the lobby of Keith’s
building.

Unlike the complex where Rayna lived, Keith’s
building was an older structure. It had once been what people used
to call a “mansion.”  Rayna found it hard to believe that so
large a place once served as home to just a single family. (In
fact, the story went, it had been owned by an old eccentric who had
no family. However, a number of the owner’s employees—domestic
help, secretaries and various business advisers—had lived in the
building at the owner’s insistence. He had wanted them handy at all
times.)  The interior of the three-story house had been
remodeled about 30 years ago, dividing it into eight comfortable,
attractive apartments. Keith’s was on the top floor.

Rayna strode out of the Trans-Mat booth and
headed directly for the elevator. The doors opened just as she
reached for the call button. An attractive woman in her
mid-twenties brushed past Rayna, leaving behind the lingering scent
of a distinctive yet delicate perfume. Rayna watched as the woman
turned to greet someone at the lobby entrance and then continued on
her way. For some reason, the woman made Rayna feel uneasy.
Something in the woman’s bearing was at once galling and
threatening. Maybe it was her air of self-assurance. Yes, that was
it. The woman was
too
self-assured. An icy blast had shaken
Rayna’s world, and she resented the warm coat of invulnerability
that seemed to cloak the stranger.

Enough of that, Rayna told herself sharply as
she turned and entered the elevator.

On the third floor, she headed left down a
short corridor to Keith’s apartment. She touched the sensor pad
next to the doorjamb. There was a momentary delay; then she heard
Keith’s voice through the entrance intercom.

“Hang on a minute,” he said, without
bothering to ask who was at the door.

Through the intercom, Rayna thought she
detected the background sounds of rushing water.
Probably taking
a shower
, Rayna surmised. Her pulse quickened with unexpected
desire as she pictured Keith’s lean, hard body emerging from the
spray.

She drew a deep breath. By now Keith would
have toweled himself off and donned his robe. Now he’d be
approaching his main communicator console and pressing the “entry”
key to check the identity of his visitor. From where Rayna stood,
nothing seemed to happen, but she knew how Keith’s specially
designed “entry” function worked. She’d seen it often enough from
inside. With a rapid shimmer, the special material in the front
door would shift its molecular alignment, and what usually appeared
as opaque whiteness would temporarily become a one-way window.

“Rayna!” Keith exclaimed right on cue as the
door slid open. “What’re you doing here?”

 
I need you,
she thought.
I need you, and I want you. Now.
But something in Keith’s
eyes warned her to back off.
Better stick to
business.

“Well that’s a fine greeting!” she said,
kissing him lightly on the lips. “You’re all wet!”

“Shower’ll do that to a fella every
time.”  Keith’s smile seemed strangely forced.

“I have a little problem that requires the
skills of a good lawyer. Know anyone who might be able to handle
the job?”

Rayna moved confidently into the room, her
spirits rising once more as she assured herself that Keith was the
key to finding her identity.

“That depends,” Keith snarled. “Some new
problem involving dear old Al Frederick?  Because if it
is....”

Rayna looked at him in perplexed silence as
his words died away.

“Have I been that preoccupied with Al since
he died?”  She shook her head. “I know I haven’t exactly been
easy to be around lately, but I never realized....”

Keith shrugged his shoulders but said
nothing.

“Well, this isn’t about Al. It’s about
me.”  Keith breathed a quiet sigh of relief and waited for
Rayna to continue. “I just found out for sure yesterday,” she told
him. “I’m adopted.”

Keith’s eyebrows arched in surprise.
“Oh?” 

Rayna nodded. “Mom and Dad—the Kingmans, that
is—they say they don’t know anything about my real parents, and the
thing is, the adoption records are sealed.”

“Sealed?”
  Keith looked
incredulous. “In this day and age?  Hardly any adoption
records are sealed anymore.”

“I know. That’s why I need your help.” 
Rayna moved closer to Keith. She wanted more than just his
professional assistance. She put her arms around him and rested her
head against his chest. But instead of returning her embrace,
Keith’s arms hung uncertainly at his side.

“I feel lost, Keith. It’s like going home
after a long, hard day at work and finding out your building isn’t
there anymore.”

Tentatively, Keith raised his arms to offer a
gentle caress, then broke away suddenly to assume a more detached,
businesslike demeanor.

“Look,” he said, “we need to sit down and
talk about this, but right now, I’m standing around wearing nothing
but a damp bathrobe. Not exactly the current fashion for the
hotshot lawyer on the go.”  Once again, he offered a wan
smile.

Rayna looked at Keith pensively. How odd, she
thought.

“Is something wrong?” she asked as she
followed him into the bedroom.

“No. No, of course not. Everything’s just
fine.”

“You tired today?” she inquired, plopping
onto Keith’s unmade bed as he busied himself hunting through
dresser drawers.

“Huh?  Why do you say that?”

 “
Oh, I don’t know,” she said,
pausing for a long, deep breath. “You don’t usually have an unmade
bed at this time of day. I thought maybe you slept late or took a
nap or something. Besides, you seem a little tense.”

Rayna cocked her head to one side as she
finished speaking. Something was tugging at her memory, but she
couldn’t quite identify it.

Activating the closetron mechanism behind his
closet door, Keith inspected a visual directory, selected a shirt
and a comfortable pair of slacks, then closed the door. With a soft
hum, the closetron located the items in its memory banks, retrieved
the compacted atomic versions from storage, and reconstituted the
clothing.

“Yeah. Maybe I am a little tired,” he said as
he opened the door and removed the shirt and slacks. “Or maybe
sleeping late just makes me grouchy.”

“I know just the thing to give us both a
lift,” Rayna said brightly, grabbing Keith’s hand as he walked past
the bed. “I really need you right now, Keith,” she added earnestly
as their eyes locked.

Keith pulled her to her feet and kissed her,
more with tenderness than with passion.

“Give me a minute,” he said gently. “Look,
why don’t you go wait in the living room. I’ll be right in, and we
can feed all you have into the computer. That’ll give us a starting
point.”

Rayna nodded and headed for the living
room.

“By the way,” she called out, her forehead
creased in concentration as she sniffed the air, “what’s that
strange odor. Are you hiding some kind of exotic flowering plant
around here?”

Keith hesitated before answering.

“I don’t smell anything,” he muttered.

Rayna moved to the computer terminal and ran
her fingers nonchalantly over the keyboard dust cover.

“Well, it’s not a very heavy smell. Kind of
light and pleasant, really. Even seems a little familiar, though I
can’t remember what it is....  Oh, well. Never mind.”

Rayna flipped the power switch on the
terminal and moved the nearby chair to a comfortable position as
the dust cover retracted.

“Think I’ll catch up on the news,” she
announced, calling up the latest news briefs. “When you going to
expand your service, Keith?  I’d think that as a lawyer, you’d
want a lot more information than the briefs give you.”

“As a lawyer, that’s all I need,” he
responded from the bedroom. “If I need more, I use my special
access code to hook into the law library’s 24-hour news watch. I
need it so seldom that it would be ridiculous for me to get news
watch service for myself. Besides,” he added, peeking out the
bedroom door, “I can always check with my friend Rayna Kingman, the
news junkie.”

Rayna smiled, then turned back to the
terminal. “Jesus!” she said as Keith strode to her side. “I haven’t
paid much attention to what was going on for the last day or two.
Look at these headlines!”

 
She gestured at the screen,
barely glancing up at Keith. “More problems in the Middle East.
Some new trouble in Southeast Asia. Unrest in South America.
Africa, too. And closer to home. There are three stories about
local burglaries, another one about vandalism with racial and
religious overtones, and even one story about an assault—all taking
place over the last few hours.”

Keith peered over Rayna’s shoulder.

“Yeah, things look pretty grim. Look at Brief
Number 12.”

Rayna turned her attention to the story Keith
had cited.

LOS ANGELES POLICE ARE GEARING UP TO DEAL WITH
A MAJOR CRIME EXPLOSION THAT HAS ROCKED THE CITY OVER THE PAST
SEVERAL WEEKS, ACCORDING TO LT. FRANK HERNANDEZ, WHO HEADS A POLICE
DEPARTMENT TASK FORCE CHARGED WITH RESTORING ORDER.

“WE DON’T KNOW WHAT’S TRIGGERED ALL THIS,”
HERNANDEZ SAID, “BUT WE’RE DETERMINED TO GET TO THE BOTTOM OF IT.
MEANWHILE, WE WANT THE PUBLIC TO START TAKING CERTAIN PRECAUTIONS.
MOST RECENT BURGLARIES HAVE INVOLVED UNLOCKED HOMES OR OFFICES.
MOST OF THE VICTIMS ARE HAVING AS TOUGH A TIME DEALING WITH THE
FEAR AS THEY ARE DEALING WITH THEIR MATERIAL LOSSES.”

CRIMINAL ACTIVITY IS UP 30 PER CENT OVER THE
SAME TIME LAST YEAR, HERNANDEZ POINTED OUT.

“MY PARENTS USED TO TELL ME STORIES ABOUT
YEARS BACK WHEN PEOPLE WERE AFRAID TO WALK THE STREETS IN LOS
ANGELES—EVEN WITH A POLICE FORCE FIVE TIMES THE SIZE WE HAVE NOW.
WE’RE NOT GOING TO LET THAT HAPPEN AGAIN. OUR PEOPLE ARE GETTING
SPECIAL TRAINING, AND WE’RE BRINGING IN MORE AND BETTER WEAPONS. SO
FAR, MOST OF THE INCREASE IN CRIME HAS BEEN NONVIOLENT. BUT IF THAT
CHANGES, THIS DEPARTMENT WILL BE READY.”

Rayna shook her head sadly from side to
side.

“‘
The whole world progressively falling
to pieces,’” she said softly.

“Huh?”

“‘
The whole world progressively falling
to pieces.’  It’s something Al used to say. Whenever I asked
him what it was like living through some of the most exciting times
in history, that’s what he’d say. ‘Like the whole world was
progressively falling to pieces.’ He said that’s how it all seemed
to him working in the news business.”

Keith grunted. “Well, if you want me to help
you unseal those adoption records, maybe we should get
started.”

Rayna looked at him closely, trying to read
his expression.

“Okay,” she said simply, rising from her
chair.

“You’re sure you want to do this?” Keith
asked. “I mean, the Kingmans were pretty good parents, weren’t
they?  Why bother to dig up things that somebody went to a lot
of trouble to bury?”

“The Kingmans were—are—wonderful parents. But
they hid the truth from me....  No, that’s not really the
point. The point is that I don’t know who I am anymore. I’ve always
felt a little unsure of myself—like a homing pigeon with a fuzzy
sense of direction. I never quite understood it or knew what to do
about it. Maybe finding out about my real parents will help.”

Keith shrugged and seated himself before the
terminal. He typed in a series of codes requesting the latest
rulings governing the opening of adoption records.

“I guess I can understand how you feel. It’s
tough enough to figure out where you’re going when you already know
where you’ve been.”  He watched the terminal screen carefully
as information began to appear. Periodically, he would tap
instructions to send certain rulings to a special file.

“Now, my father gave me some very solid
guidelines to follow,” Keith said, his jaw set firmly. “Very solid
guidelines. Told me I should always do my best at everything I
tried. ‘If you can’t do your best,’ he used to say, ‘keep looking
till you find something where you
can
do your best.’” 
He paused and glanced at Rayna, then returned his attention to the
screen.

“I got pretty good at a lot of things,” he
said, “but I’ve never quite managed to be ‘the best’ at anything.
Guess that’s why I keep changing careers. I already had three at an
age when most people are just starting to consider a second one.
Always had to give it my best. But my best was never quite good
enough.”