Upgrade (59 page)

“Stop it.”
 
Sadie sat up straight, her feet pulling off the desk and hitting the floor.
 
“This isn’t funny.”

“I haven’t even
started
,” said Carter.
 
“Mary.”

“What?
 
Who the fuck’s Mary?”

“Mary Evans,” said Carter.
 
“Eighteen years old.
 
Promising guitarist, a little like you without the grunge.”

“Fuck—”

“Liked stray dogs and finger painting,” said Carter.
 
“Met Aldo Vast last January.”

“You can’t—”

“She’s dead now,” said Carter.
 
“It’s probably for the best.
 
As near as I can work out, she spent the last four hours of her life locked in a trailer with him.”

Sadie swallowed, didn’t say anything.

“You invited
that
into your life,” said Carter.
 
“Into your
bed
.
 
Which one of us is
accountable
?”

Sadie held the guitar against her chest.
 
She felt sick.
 
“How do you—”

“That’s not the question you want to ask,” said Carter.

The radio popped on the table in front of her, the old grill in front of the speaker grimy.
 
Sadie looked down at her guitar.
 
“Is he dead?”

“That’s still not the right question,” said Carter.
 
“You really should be asking me why I give a shit.”

“Ok, company woman,” said Sadie.
 
“Why do you give a shit?”

“Because I like Mason,” said Carter.
 
“You didn’t need to ask, did you?”

Sadie touched the strings of the guitar with her nails, something scratchy and harsh coming from the amp.
 
“That’s not the right answer, Carter.”

Carter laughed, the sound tinny across the radio.
 
“Oh,” she said.
 
“Oh.
 
Ok.
 
Fair enough, Sadie Freeman.
 
I can’t give you the right answer.
 
Or… only a little piece.
 
For what it’s worth, it’s the truth, as far as it goes.”

“That’s not worth much,” said Sadie.
 
“It’s not written in a contract.
 
That’s how you people work, isn’t it?”

“You see Mason asking you to sign a contract before he blew your boyfriend’s leg off?
 
Before he took you away from a man who was going to cut on your face with a piece of broken mirror?”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” said Sadie.
 
“Maybe not for a long time.”

It was Carter’s turn to pause for a moment.
 
“Ok,” she said, after a moment.
 
“That sounds like it might be true.”

“Since we’re being truthful,” said Sadie, “can you give me a hint about what the hell is going on here?”

“Not really,” said Carter.
 
“Say.”

“Yeah?”

“Is Haraway there?”

“Haraway?
 
The nerd?”

“Yeah,” said Carter.
 
“The rocket scientist.
 
Actually, she’s not a rocket scientist.
 
More like a fusion scientist working in advanced physics.”

“All that tells me,” said Sadie, “is that she can’t play.”

“About right,” said Carter.
 
“Can you still play, Sadie?
 
Can you play without them?”

“Without a band?” said Sadie.
 
“Sure.”

“No,” said Carter.
 
“Without a crowd.
 
The people.”

Sadie looked down at the guitar again.
 
“I’m wondering something,” she said.

“What’s that?”

“Aren’t you worried about people listening in?
 
We’re on a
radio
.”

“Two things,” said Carter.

“Two?”

“First,” said Carter, “you have to imagine that anyone in any syndicate gives a shit about our conversation about your poor relationship mistakes.”

“It seemed like a good idea at the time,” said Sadie.
 
“A long time ago, it seemed like a good idea.”

“Second,” said Carter, “do you know a lot about radios?”

“No,” said Sadie.
 
“But I know you can, what’s it called, triangulate.”

“That’s right,” said Carter.
 
“You know what you need to triangulate?”

“Besides giving a shit about my relationship mistakes?”

“Besides that,” said Carter.
 
“You need to know there’s something to look for.
 
You need to know where to
start looking
.”

Sadie put her feet back up on the table, settling the guitar against her body.
 
“I get this town’s not on the map,” she said.
 
“I never heard of a town filled with monsters a couple hours’ drive away from where I buy my milk.”

“No,” said Carter.
 
“If that’s all it was, I wouldn’t be worth my salary.”

“They pay you well?”

“More than the tips and beer money you got from your last gig,” said Carter.
 
“I’m not trying to be a bitch here, it’s just the way it is.”

“Carter?”

“Yeah, Sadie?”

“You’re coming across as a bitch.
 
Just a little bit.”

Sadie watched the radio again, the moment stretching out again.
 
“Ok,” said Carter.
 
“That was useful feedback.”

“Useful—”

“The thing is,” said Carter, “in order to stop people knowing there’s a radio signal out there, you need to kind of inject yourself into a lot of systems.
 
Comms operators.
 
Radio stations.
 
Program directors.
 
The ITU.
 
Did you know,” she said, “that there’s an international special committee on radio interference?”

“Hadn’t given it much thought,” said Sadie.

“Exactly,” said Carter.
 
“No one does, until they try and work out all the ways someone can tune into a signal.”

“You’re telling me you’ve…
 
What.
 
You’ve erased the signal?”

“No,” said Carter.
 
“That’s actually impossible.
 
Law of conservation of energy.
 
I’ve just made it look like there’s nothing to see there.”

“Ok,” said Sadie.
 
“How did Mason know what frequency to use?”

“Mason’s what you might call a forward planner,” said Carter.
 
“After the last time.”

“Last time?”

“Not really my thing to talk about,” said Carter.
 
“I’m not his first partner.”

“The last one not work out?”

“He shot his last partner seven times and tore his body apart with an industrial lifter,” said Carter.
 
“The point is, after the last one, well, there were complications.”

“Complications?” said Sadie, leaning forward a little.
 
The chair was old, the springs pushing through the tired fabric.
 
She smelled a hint of mould as the fabric shifted under her.
 
“What kind of complications?”

“The Federate ordered a hit squad on him,” said Carter.
 
“He was cut off, no link.
 
Couldn’t really communicate with anyone on the inside.”

“So,” said Sadie, “he’s worked out this low tech way of talking.”

“No,” said Carter.
 
“
I
worked out this low tech way of talking.
 
He just told me the problem he wanted a solve for.”

“Wait,” said Sadie.
 
She plucked a string, a note almost pure and clean coming from the amp.
 
She touched the tuning key again, twisting it a fraction.
 
“If the problem last time was his partner, why’s he trusting his partner this time?”

“Now,” said Carter, “you’re starting to ask the right questions.”

⚔ ⚛ ⚔

“You haven’t answered my questions,” said Carter.

“I thought I had,” said Sadie.
 
“What questions?”

“You didn’t tell me what the noise was when we started talking,” said Carter.
 
“You didn’t tell me if you can still play.”

Sadie looked over at the amp, the red lamp dull with age.
 
“The noise was—”

“I’m pretty sure,” said Carter, “that you’ve found the Stratocaster.”

“How did you—”

“You’re still asking the wrong questions,” said Carter.
 
“But the short version is that I’ve spent a lot of time looking at the plans for that town.
 
Photos of the streets.
 
You find very old systems that don’t exist anymore.
 
Photos of everything, sometimes taken from cars as they drove down the street.”

“The plans?” said Sadie.
 
“How do you look at plans for something that doesn’t exist?”

“Carefully,” said Carter.

“It’s the Stratocaster,” said Sadie.
 
“The answer to the second question is that I’m not sure.”

“That’s… surprisingly honest,” said Carter.
 
“I didn’t expect that.”

“I used to play because I wanted to play,” said Sadie.
 
“You know?
 
I said it was for me.
 
But somewhere along the line—”

“Somewhere along the line, it became about them,” said Carter.
 
“I get that.”

“How?” said Sadie.
 
“You’re a soulless company robot.
 
No offense.”

“None taken,” said Carter.
 
“I get it because I used to play.”

“You?”
 
Sadie leaned forward.
 
“You used to play?
 
What?
 
Mozart or some shit?”

“There’s an old story,” said Carter, “about motorcycles.
 
You know, the continuous war between people riding the new tech, and the old.
 
Harley Davidson people would tell you that Suzuki exists as a company to keep assholes off Harleys.”

“Right,” said Sadie.
 
“I had a boyfriend who said that.
 
Long time ago.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” said Sadie.
 
“He wasn’t very good.”

“Right,” said Carter.
 
“Thing is, the real point is they’re both on bikes, not in cars.
 
They’re fighting about the wrong things.”

“I get you,” said Sadie.
 
“Mozart’s not that bad?”

“Mozart’s still a guy who’s a long time dead,” said Carter.
 
“Point is, it’s not what you play, but that you play.”

“What do you play?” said Sadie.

“I play bass,” said Carter.
 
“I mean, I play a lot of things, but I love the bass.
 
It’s pure, you can get lost in the rhythm.”

“I get you,” said Sadie again.
 
“What do you play bass for?”

“I play bass to get into the rhythm,” said Carter.
 
“I prefer the bass because it’s honest.”

“That’s not what I asked,” said Sadie.
 
“Now who’s not answering the question?”

“It’s kind of what you asked,” said Carter.
 
A low tone came from the radio, drawn out long.
 
“Hear that?”

“You…
 
You’ve got a bass at your office?”
 
Sadie blinked at the radio.
 
“I always pictured you company types as living in cube farms, nothing but an old coffee cup and bad air conditioning for company.”

“We’re a bit more hip than you might give us credit for,” said Carter.
 
“Besides.
 
They give me my own office.”

Sadie frowned, then leaned back in her chair.
 
She plunked a string on the Stratocaster again, the noise almost right this time.
 
She touched one of the tuning keys, her fingers lingering for a moment before falling away.
 
“Are you — are you trying to be cool?”

“Cool?”

“Yeah.
 
You said ‘hip.’
 
I’ve never heard anyone say that before.”

“I watch old movies,” said Carter.

“You like old movies?”
 
Sadie smiled.
 
“You’re not the soulless company robot you come across as.
 
Not all the way.”

“I like people,” said Carter.
 
“I watch all kinds of movies.
 
I don’t like the ones that don’t have audio.”

“Audio?”
 
Sadie frowned.
 
“There you are, back to being a robot.”

“Sorry,” said Carter.
 
“Silent films.
 
You know what I’m talking about?”

“I know what you’re talking about,” said Sadie.
 
“You going to answer my question?”

“I prefer playing drum and bass,” said Carter, “because it turns honesty to eleven.”

“You’re a dick,” said Sadie.
 
She laughed.
 
“Man.
 
I wanted to punch you in the face earlier.
 
Now I think I want to play.”

“Thanks,” said Carter.
 
“What do you want to play?”

“Something honest,” said Sadie.
 
“What do you know?”

“Everything,” said Carter.
 
“You choose.”

“Challenge accepted,” said Sadie, her fingers touching the strings again.
 
“It’s just—”

“You don’t know if you can,” said Carter.

“It’s not that—”

“Because there’s no crowd.”

Sadie sat still and quiet for a moment, her fingers still on the strings.
 
“How—”