Moxyland (16 page)

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Authors: Lauren Beukes

Tags: #Fantasy, #near future, #sf, #Cyberpunk, #Science Fiction

BOOK: Moxyland

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'That's me. Toby. And you are?'

'Julia.'

We sit in silence for a long moment. She's waiting for me to get uncomfortable and leave. But I'm not shifting a millimetre and eventually she can't resist, if only to drive home her superiority.

'You need the BFG automatic. It's in the substation behind the geysers.'

'I looked there.'

'It's up, not down, wedged behind the pipes. And you missed the key.'

'So, if you're the resident expert, how come you aren't playing?'

'How do you know I'm not?'

I tap the tabletop to pull up the drinks menu, skim it, but it's same old. 'Tequila?'

'You are incredibly forward.'

'Do you play? Or do you just like to watch?'

She stares at me, unbelieving.

'Cos I didn't use to. I reckoned it was all time wastage, you know?' And this is true, kids. I was big-time ambition once, Masters in literature, novel ambitions, before the cast, before the sugar, before the girls. 'When I was a kid, I only ever used the educationals.'

This riles her. 'You can't simplify like that. It's all blurred now, the lines between education and entertainment.' And I've hooked her.

'What, like the kids' games? That Moxyland shit? Murder and mayhem. Training them to be savage, don't you think? It's not about making friends with kids all over the world, it's about getting ahead, getting one over.'

'But don't you think it's appropriate? Considering.'

'The world, you mean? That's a tad harsh. Is that it? Won't they learn that shit later?'

'All right. So, what should they be learning?'

'Compassion? Empathy? How to get along? Life skills?'

'You're an idealist.'

I shrug, all modest coy, as if she's bust me. I look down at my drink, cos the tequila has arrived on the conveyor that runs between the terminals, so the players won't be distracted by comings and goings, so they'll stay longer, spend more money.

'To compassion.' She grins with a sardonic twist to her mouth, taking the tequila.

'To beautiful women with a mean sarcastic streak,' I toast back.

Later, Julia comes back to the swivel with me. They always do.

Lerato

The date goes much better than I'd anticipated, but for all the wrong reasons. Stefan is as craggily beautiful as his profile photograph, and smart and lucid and engaging and funny and refined – and gay as a rainbow bumper-sticker.

'I fucking knew it,' I say, sipping on a papaya mojito, which he's taken the liberty of ordering for both of us because it's Gravity's speciality. Gravity isn't my first choice of afterhours, but in its favour, entry is strictly corporate pass, so you don't have to deal with pleb civilians. And it's set on the 44th floor of the Vodacom building on a revolving floor, so the view rotates around you at a gentle clip, mountain-city-sea, ideal for those with a short attention span for the spectacular.

'I'm sorry?' he says, slightly taken aback. Normally, I enjoy the deft manoeuvring around what can't be said, the subtle, skilful politicking of negotiations. I had an Iranian friend, Shaheema, who taught me the finer tactics of never saying what you mean, when she came out on exchange to Communique from the Emirates office. It's as useful in the secular corporate environment as in Persian culture. Which is not to say I'm prepared to abandon subtlety altogether when monitoring is a real concern. I lean forward, exposing maximum cleavage, and touch his arm.

'We're both adults, Stefan. We both know why we're here. Why don't you and I just skip straight to the main course.'

'Uh – I thought perhaps we could just have a quiet drink, get to know each other.'

'We could go back to my place. But I have a roommate, which might make it tricky, if we're to make all the noise we want. What about yours?'

He's utterly confused, the poor thing, but then his eyes crinkle and he half suppresses a smile, shaking his head. 'I thought you were serious. I have an audio interference, if that's what you're worried about.' He clicks the silver pen lying on the table beside his notebook. 'We can make all the noise we like. No spyware's going to pick it up.'

I toy with the glass, keeping up the flirtatious masquerade for the sake of anyone watching. 'And how do I know you're not with…'

'Internal investigations? That this isn't a setup?'

'I do have a history, Mr. Thuys.'

'Don't we all, Ms. Mazwai. I'm afraid I don't have anything to offer to allay your fears. You'll just have to trust me.'

'Give me a secret. One that I can verify.'

'Why?'

'Leverage.'

'I'm not in the habit of trading secrets with beautiful women, especially not so they can blackmail me.'

'Only beautiful boys?' I've managed to get under that buffed and exfoliated and moisturised skin. He unfolds and refolds his legs.

'You know, if I was from your current employer's internal investigations, you would already have incriminated yourself.'

'I really don't know what you mean. I was in the middle of asking you if this was another one of Genevieve's half-baked romantic set-ups. You interrupted, rudely, before I could finish my sentence. It's hardly my fault if you want to jump to wild conclusions.'

He slaps his leg and laughs loudly enough to disturb the suits on the couch across from us, who glance over briefly. Unfortunately, audio interference only works on electronics.

'You really are something. So, what would it take to – uh, get you into bed?'

'I'm not a whore, Stefan. But if you're asking me about my ambitions, my dreams? The kind of things we might discuss on a date? I want to live up to my potential. You know I was raised in a skills institute? Eskom Energy Kids.'

'I saw it on your CV.'

'Compared to scrabbling for opportunities with three thousand other Aidsbabies, believe me – corporate life is a breeze.'

'Good wine does depend on its terroir. So what are your dreams, Lerato?'

'The things any girl wants. A pony. True love. A diamond ring. A generous car allowance. A sea view, a space to call my own, that's really my own, sans roommate. Work that is meaningful, you know, where I can make a real and valuable contribution to society, although I'd settle for challenging and remarkably well-paid with international firstworld opportunities. Maybe one day.'

'Maybe soon.'

'I'll toast to that.'

Toby

Unathi is still wearing the same leopard-print vest. I study it carefully to make sure, but even the stains look identical.

'What is with you? Stop staring at my tits, man!' He hands me a gamechip. 'Congratulations, you made the big league. Realspace, and you don't even have to go elf. Or vampire. Personally, I don't think you're qualified for this, but some chick did a recommend on you. Julia Thambo? Know her?'

I shrug, non-committal. Fucked if I know. Which is probably exactly what happened.

'Said she saw you play in the barcade up St. John's Wood way? She's quite the cherry. You better not have slept with her, you twat.'

Again I shrug, which winds him up more than a straight confession.

'Asshole. Anyway. Their clan has a lastminute casualty. They need a replacement. Don't go thinking this means you get to play with the grown-ups regularly.'

'So what's the game?'

'Load up the chip, asshole, and see.'

I slot the card into the gameport on my phone. The screen goes that particular cyan that quickens any realspace gamer's pulse, cos it's all happening now, kids, connecting to Playnet.

FallenCity™ Scorpions Elite
>>Welcome agent BUZZKILL

'Great call sign, you've preselected for me, Unathi, thanks.'

'Thought you'd appreciate it.'

'How do I change it?'

'You're stuck with it. The account is all paid up. That's your call sign.'

'You are such a bitchmonkey.'

'Just read the assignment, asshole.'

>>You have a new mission briefing…
BRIEF DATE:
Wednesday 20 September
OPERATION:
Rosa Parks
TYPE:
Realworld
LOCATION:
Adderley Station Deck, Adderley Street, Cape Town City
RISK LEVEL:
4+
MISSION OBJECTIVES:
Find and subdue terrorists on the underway and recover
and disarm dirty 'suitcase' bomb. This is a multi-operative mission.
EXECUTION:
20h05, Saturday 23 September

DETAILED BRIEFING:
Scorpion Elite's intelligence agents have uncovered a terrorist plot by militant mercenary group MaVimbi, to plant a 'suitcase' nuclear bomb on the M-line train with the intention of detonating it once the train reaches
Robben Island Memorial Industrial Park. Fallout will affect the entire East City coastline. Projected casualties are 16,000
on Robben Island alone.
The carrier is believed to be the
terrorist known as
UNITY
. No further information is available, but s/he will certainly be disguised as a corporate and will likely have fake identification. S/he may have additional terrorists travelling with him/her as protection and cover.
Your mission is to infiltrate and take over the corporate coaches on the M-line underway at Adderley Street station, subdue all passengers, prevent the train from departing the station, identify and subdue the terrorist/s, and find and disarm the suitcase bomb. (Scorpions Elite Bomb Squad operatives only.) Because of the scale of the operation, mass action is required. You will be required to co-ordinate your action with one or more teams. Mission control can assign you to a team should you not already have one.

ADVISORY:
This mission will take you into civilian territory. Discretion is advised.* All operatives must tag their SIMs with PlayNet FallenCity™ chips to identify them as players.

DISCLAIMER:
FallenCity™ is not real. FallenCity™ does not have any real-world affiliations with the Scorpions or the criminal underworld or terrorist organisations. InGame agents are actors employed by Inkubate Inc. to validate and enhance the player's experience in realworld play and advance the game.

LEGAL:
FallenCity™ and add-on packs, FallenCity™ Scorpions Elite, FallenCity™ Underworld, FallenCity™ Wire, and FallenCity™ Apocalypse are registered trademarks of Inkubate Inc. FallenCity™ players are not formally affiliated with Inkubate Inc. and the corporation cannot be held legally responsible for any actions by FallenCity™ players during the course of play, whether virtual or physical. By entering into game time, FallenCity™ players agree to the terms and conditions of play and acknowledge that they are fully aware that FallenCity™ is only a game. Players are solely responsible for their actions in realworld play and any repercussions thereof. By registering on the system, players acknowledge that they are of sound mind and not on stimulants, legal or criminal, which might impede their judgement, and that they are fully able to distinguish between gameplay and reality. Players who enter realworld play without chipping their SIMs with FallenCity™ identifiers, or who create a public disturbance or interfere with non-player civilians will be suspended from gameplay for the period of one month. Repeat offenders will be disbarred from the game. Players who break the law in the course of play or enact physical violence on any persons (players, InGame agents, or civilians) will be barred from FallenCity™ and all other Inkubate Inc.'s titles. If necessary, their files will be uploaded to the SAPS.
*All passengers in the corporate coaches on M-line are InGame agents. Please do not interfere with other passengers on any other lines or in the station.
>> Do you wish to accept the mission, BUZZKILL?
--Yes
>> You are registered temporary affiliate with Scorpions Elite CLAN STINGER. Would you like to maintain this affiliation?
--Yes
>> Operative status confirmed. T-minus three days to execution. Further details will be uploaded to your FallenCity™ chip. Proceed with caution, BUZZKILL.
--Log out

Tendeka

Zuko rattles the can of spray-paint far longer than he needs to, but he's working the crowd, both the kids he's teaching and the passers-by, which makes for a considerable crowd on a Wednesday morning on the Parade. It strikes me that this must be one of the only occasions that the kids are drawing positive attention from the public. Zuko takes to the showman role brilliantly, demonstrating how to hold the nozzle so you get a smooth flow without collateral spillage on your clothes, and why you have to wear the fumemask.

The kids who live on the street make their own agenda, and if you try to force them into yours, you're just going to lose them. We're not overly worried if they don't rock up first thing or if they leave before four p.m. They can come and go as they please, the only rule is they can't be fucked up or get fucked up while they're working with us. If we catch anyone huffing paint, it's an instant red card.

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