The Beam: Season One (22 page)

But it had been different with the client she was talking about now — with Nicolai. She’d met him at a Directorate dinner that she’d been attending with a member of the senate. She, Nicolai, and the senator found themselves at the same table. The senator got drunk and hit her, then said something coincidentally on-point about how her mother must have been terrible to raise a daughter who turned to whoring. Rather than retaliating, Kai was so shell-shocked that she simply walked off. Nicolai found her outside, eyes wet and loathing her own weakness. He had managed to offer her a ride home without sounding like he was trying to be a knight in shining armor. In Kai’s world, every intimate encounter ended in sex, so she’d been ready to give him a freebie by the time he dropped her off, but he hadn’t asked, or seemed to want it.
 

Kai told Doc (and Nicolai, for Doc’s sake) about how this mystery client had come to check on her the next day and the day after, and that each time they’d had a platonic, being-there-for-you dinner. Doc rolled his eyes through the story, and Nicolai watched her with an unreadable expression. Then Kai explained that on the third “date,” when she’d insisted on paying the bill, that the “favor” she’d wanted was sex.
 

“That’s the first and only time I’ve ever had to ask for it,” she said. “I thought he’d be too gentlemanly to do it, though. He knew I was an escort, and maybe would think I was dirty. But that didn’t happen at all.”

Doc rolled his eyes.
 

“We barely made it back to his place.” She smirked. “We were tearing each other’s clothes off in the cab. And when we did get inside and got the door closed, it was like he could read my mind. He spoke to me like I wanted to be spoken to. He touched me in all the right places. He took his time, and it lasted for hours. And the things he could do with his cock…”
 

“Please,” said Doc.
 

“Everything else is
nothing
by comparison,” said Kai, leaning forward in her camp chair, toward Doc. Her voice had turned into a taunting purr, and a hot feeling was creeping up the back of her neck. “No other lover has
ever
been able to measure up, literally or figuratively. I can fake my way through it with other clients, but
nobody
holds a candle to the guy I can’t bring myself to think of as a client, even when he pays me. I hear him in my head when I’m with the others. I feel his hands on my skin, his tongue on my…”
 

“Noah Fucking West,” said Doc, his face finally, satisfyingly, losing its cocksure expression.
 

But as Doc looked away, it was like a bubble popped for Kai. She felt suddenly and uncharacteristically embarrassed, aware that Nicolai was giving her a strange look. She blinked and leaned back, disoriented. She’d gotten so caught up in trying to jab Doc that she’d gotten carried away, and had said too much.
 

She tried giving Nicolai a jesting smile, to show him that it was all just part of the game.

Doc said, “If that’s the craziest thing you’ve ever done with a client, then I’ve grossly misjudged what it is you do.
We’ve
done crazier stuff than that.”
 

Nicolai looked at Doc. Something in his eyes shifted.
 

“I didn’t know you hired escorts, Doc,” said Nicolai. “You must spend all your time telling her how great you are.”
 

“Someone has to,” said Doc. He wore a grin that sat halfway on his face, like it was hiding something.
 

“Some men pay women so that they can feel better about themselves,” Nicolai explained.

“Some men pay women, then forget it’s just a transaction,” Doc retorted. “It’s really sad.”
 

“That’s the problem with you, Doc,” said Nicolai, slowly shaking his head of messy black hair. “You think everyone’s like you.”
 

“Hey, I’m just honest, scout. I pick my path and keep my feet on it.” He lowered his voice, then turned to Kai. “I know you won’t believe this, sweetheart, but some people sell their souls for cash, then spend all their time wishing they could be something else.”
 

Kai watched Nicolai’s eyebrows draw together. Nicolai had the heart and spirit of an artist, but Isaac Ryan had plucked him from the rabble when he’d first come to the NAU and Nicolai, fiercely loyal, had ended up Directorate by circumstance. It was a constant sore spot — one Nicolai must have shared with Doc before purchasing his creativity add-ons.

“You’re drunk,” said Nicolai.

“You’re a sellout,” said Doc. He stood and walked closer to the fire, now inches from Nicolai’s camp chair.
 

“Sit down, Doc,” said Kai.
 

“What did you do to get us all picked up, Doc?” said Nicolai, looking up. “Finally sell the wrong defective add-on to the wrong person?”
 

Doc opened his mouth to answer, but Kai seemed to be the only one of them who remembered that they
weren’t
actually sitting around a campfire but were instead prisoners locked in a simulator. Doc was about to say something revealing, so she stomped hard on his foot.
 

“The
fuck?
” said Doc, staring at her.
 

She stared back until finally, he seemed to understand. But then he raised his foot, planted it on Nicolai’s chest, and pushed him backward onto the ground.
 

Nicolai fumbled into an untidy heap. Then, untangling himself from his chair, he rolled and came to his feet. He walked forward until the two men — the tall, broad-shouldered upgrades dealer and the smaller, darker speechwriter — stood chest to chest. They stared at each other, the air hot with tension, until two Beamers entered the room, breaking their campsite illusion.
 

“Hit him,” one of the Beamers said to Doc.
 

“Don’t let that fucker get away with disrespecting you like that,” said the other Beamer to Nicolai.
 

“Dream on,” said the first Beamer. He pointed at Nicolai, then poked his partner in the chest. “You think that little bastard can take my guy? He’d be squashed.”
 

The second Beamer also pointed to Nicolai. “Are you kidding? Look at his eyes. That’s a kid who’s been fighting his entire life. I’ll bet he’s like a ninja. What kind of ninja shit can you do, kid?”
 

Nicolai, who was probably older than the Beamer who’d called him “kid,” said nothing. The arrival of the Beamers had broken the spell for Nicolai, and his angry expression was already gone. Doc’s expression, however, had been lubricated by drink and remained livid.
 

“Hit him,” said the first Beamer, again speaking to Doc. “Prove me right and I’ll have the room give you a pie.”
 

“I’ll have it set
you
up with a naked chick,” said the second Beamer, looking at Nicolai.
 

“Two chicks and a pie,” said the first Beamer, to Doc.
 

“Six chicks.”
 

When neither man moved, the first Beamer walked over to Kai and pressed his pain pod against her neck. “Prove me right or I’ll turn this pod high enough to make her neck muscles snap her spine.”

Kai was considering her fight options when movement caught her eye. Beside her, Doc reared back and punched Nicolai hard enough in the face to make his feet leave the ground. Nicolai struck the dirt hard. The first Beamer hooted in victory and raised his hands, then said “Watch this!” to the other man. When his “watch” command was followed by nothing, Kai assumed he was replaying slow-motion video of Doc’s punch in their visors to gloat.

Kai ran to Nicolai. The Beamers watched her and then left the room, one laughing and the other sulking. Nicolai was unconscious, a sea of red swallowing one eye. Doc’s muscles had been enhanced with carbon nanotubes and scavenger nano injections, and that had been a hell of a hit — far harder than it should have been.

“I had to,” said Doc, standing over her. “He was going to kill you.”
 

Kai lashed out with one leg and struck Doc in the chest. Just as he fell toward the campfire, the scene changed and Doc struck grass in an open prairie rather than flame, avoiding well-deserved burns by milliseconds.

Chapter 8

Crumb’s horse trotted along beside Leah, who was riding Missy. They could have doubled up on one horse, but Crumb smelled horrible. There was a strange thing that happened with Crumb that nobody could put their finger on that made him especially pungent on some days, and today was one of those days. Leah had a theory about it. She thought that every once in a while, the food in Crumb’s gray beard reached a critical mass and began to ferment. At those times, he wafted an especially rancid odor that was partially B.O. and partially something acidic, like spoiled dairy.
 

On his separate horse, ten feet distant and safely out of smell range, Crumb continued to ramble about persecution and conspiracies. But as they rode through the peaceful mountain trails on such a near perfect day, Leah found herself not minding Crumb’s rambles. It was soon background, as much a part of the scenery as the birds or chattering squirrels. Besides, Crumb couldn’t help himself. There were people in the Organa community who were far more irritating than Crumb because what they did and said, they did and said willingly. Crumb had been this way, an eccentric and integral part of the Organas who couldn’t help what he was, for as long as Leah had been alive.
 

Hoofbeats struck the hard clay and Crumb said, “Back in my day, we could take a man and put him on The Beam and he’d live forever. Did you tell Leo? Leo is the Wizard of Oz! The wonderful Wizard of Oz. Noah Fucking West!” Then he started to sing a song about this Wonderful Wizard.

Leah didn’t know who the Wizard of Oz was — if said wizard was anything — but something about the day and Crumb’s song and the scenery made her thoughtful, and she found herself realizing that once Crumb had been young. She wondered if, rather than being a crazy memory from the now, Oz had been a sane memory from long ago. Maybe in his younger days Crumb had been normal, and something inside had broken later on. They could only guess at his age, but it was possible that he’d gotten age-extension treatments before the Organas had met him. Not nanos; they’d scanned him and knew him to be unenhanced. But if he’d had a few rejuvenations with temporary refurbishment nanos? Well, then it was possible he could be over a hundred. An artificially aged man wouldn’t be out of place with the Organas either; that was the funny thing. They all had their high-tech secrets. It was just more evidence that as pure as most Organas tried to be, most were hypocrites when you got right down to it.
 

But hey, Leah, with her own enhancements, wasn’t pointing fingers. The way she saw it, you could fight fair and die, or you could cheat and have a chance at winning. If that made her a hypocrite and a heretic, then so be it.

They’d been on the trail for almost two hours. It wound away from the village, down a rather treacherous slope into a valley, then back up around a dozen or more slow switchbacks. It wasn’t well-traveled, but that was the point. The mountain towns weren’t usually hardwired into The Beam; the people up here who wanted to access it did so via handhelds. It was a very one-dimensional experience, not unlike how people a hundred years ago experienced the Internet before even Crossbrace (let alone The Beam) was a twinkle in Noah West’s eye. But given what Leo wanted Leah to do with Crumb, she needed something very specific. She needed a connection that was hardwired but ancient, fast and reliable but forgotten — like what she’d find in the cabin in Bontauk.
 

The town of Bontauk had bloomed and died well before Leah had come into the world, but at the end of its life it had been home to a man named Vance Pilloud who’d come into the mountains not because he was poor (as was the case in much of Appalachia), but because he was rich. He’d wanted to be left alone, and the mountains were one of the only places still available where “alone” was the rule. He’d built himself a small but very nice house on a large swatch of land and then, because he didn’t want to be totally cut off, paid for a Quark affiliate to lay a fiber line to his door.
 

Pilloud hadn’t lasted long in the mountains. He’d had a massive heart attack and died merely three years after completing his ranch, then had laid dead in the house for a week before anyone found him. His property went abandoned and was repeatedly raided. Now, twenty years later, the house was a decrepit and mostly burnt shell on an overgrown patch of land. But the line was still there, and that was good enough for Organa’s best young mind.
 

Crumb said, “The munchkins, Leah!”
 

The day was beautiful. The air was clear and clean and unpolluted — something that Leah, who spent much of her time in District Zero, could appreciate more than most Organas. Breathing the clean mountain air, she found herself unperturbed by her companion’s rants. Crumb was a character, a part of their lives. In many ways, he was like an enthusiastic slow child. So she played along with him, smiling, her pink dreadlocks swinging with the horse’s slow rhythm.
 

“Oh yeah, Crumb? What about those munchkins?”
 

“They’re everywhere!”
 

“You mean now?” She looked around theatrically, as if afraid her horse might step on one of the munchkins… whatever they were. She assumed from the name that munchkins were small, but she supposed they could also just be hungry: eager for munching.
 

“No,” said Crumb, his eyes serious in their cradles of wrinkles. “Of course not! They’re with the Wizard!”
 

“Where’s the Wizard, Crumb?”
 

“We’re off to
see
the Wizard,” Crumb explained. “The Wonderful Wizard of Oz.”
 

Leah felt herself chuckle. “We’re going to hook you up to The Beam, you old nut.”