Wired (29 page)

On his desk, in a large silver frame, was a picture of Mason pulling a girlfriend close, his lips planting a big, goofy kiss on the side of her cheek. She was wearing a blue satin dress, and she wasn't Louise. She was me. On one wire—on one layer, at least—Mason and I were meant to be.

I pressed the picture to my heart, then put it back on the desk and headed to the receptionist. “Hi. Question. How long has everyone been working on my case?” I asked.

“Since you disappeared, of course,” he replied with a warm smile. “You were one of the few Peripherals
I know of to become a Major—to have a dedicated project team.” He shook his head in disbelief. “I can't believe it's over. We're going to have a hell of a party.” He leaned forward. “Obviously, behind closed doors we talked about what might happen if Kaysar closed the case and won. Most of the files are classified, of course, but rumor had it you were the last one left on a case with very little wire left. Of course, the personal element made the situation even more meaningful to all of us.”

“The personal element.” I swallowed hard, took a deep breath, and asked just to be sure, “I was Mason's girlfriend, and Leo made me disappear?”

The receptionist didn't answer; it was as if something in his brain suddenly clicked. “Yes,” he finally said. Then, “Did Mr. Merrick bring you here?”

“Of course,” I said breezily. “He just hasn't finished explaining everything. So, uh, how do I relate to the case?”

The answers were coming more slowly now, and his easy, upbeat demeanor was fading rapidly. Still, he said, “You're part of the chain. Without your code contribution, the smartie wouldn't have been developed by the government at the particular time and place that it was. Kaysar Corporation would most likely have developed the technology first, except this time they would have controlled both the juice and the tech before we—Mr. Merrick
does
know you're here, yes?”

The juice and the tech. The punch and the smartie, to be sure. “The juice was developed by Kaysar Corporation? And the reader was developed by . . . the government?”

“Yessss.” The receptionist had gone rather chilly. He pushed the button on his earpiece and said, “LRZ status, stat.”

“Tell Mason to meet me at Kaysar Corporation,” I blurted, pushing my empty manila envelope at the receptionist. Then I turned and burst out the door. On the sidewalk I found Kitty leaning against the wall, staring upward with her mouth slightly open. I grabbed her by the wrist and started booking down the street.

“So far three people have asked me if I'm visiting from the suburbs, and one even asked if something was wrong with me,” Kitty said. “People are so
nice
in the future! Oh . . . hey! Don't squeeze my fingers so hard.”

“We need to keep moving,” I said.

“Did you find out anything?” Kitty asked.

“Yeah. What time is it?”

Kitty looked at her watch. “It's about five o'clock. Why?”

“Shit. I don't know . . . I mean . . . if this is a parallel wire, a layer superimposed on the past, then that explains why nothing is over.”

“Uhhhhh . . . what?”

“Sorry. Thinking out loud. The thing Leonardo had me put into the computer on the top of the building during the gala, that was the code. He'd gotten us to the place where I'd written it, and he had me put it in the building in the present because he didn't own the building then and didn't have the security clearance I had. He must have known something about that particular computer. Maybe he bought it later or something, but the important thing is—Wait! He put
Kaysar Corporation in the exact same place. He spliced me forward and I loaded it on
his
machine. Those were his guards. This is some kind of crossover on parallel layers. But . . . Mason messed with the time line as I was doing it. Leo was thwarted.” I was thinking fast and furious.

“Well, once more we've reached a point where I've written it. Given that I don't have it in my bag—where I just put it . . . after I spliced reality to get us here—we must be somewhere in between me writing it and me putting it in the building at the gala. Which means that once the gala happens, if nobody makes a splice, the second I put the code in, in the past, that's the second Leonardo will be able to take it here in the future. I think.”

Kitty blinked rapidly.

“I don't blame you,” I said. “If I were you, I wouldn't understand either. The thing is, Leonardo and Mason have been laying down pieces to a puzzle, and every time there's a splice, the puzzle board changes a bit and they have to take out pieces that don't fit and put new ones in. But I'll bet you anything there's only one piece left. That flash drive is inside Kaysar Corporation, where I put it during the party in the then layer, and we need to get it out before the party starts in the now layer, if you get my drift.”

Kitty cleared her throat. “So . . . what do we
do
?” she asked.

“We need to get to Kaysar Corp. fast, and this isn't fast.” I stopped and grabbed a startled pedestrian by the sleeve. “I'm sorry to bother you, but what's the fastest way to the Kaysar building?”

“I'd take the motoway to get just about anywhere from here. The nearest entrance is to the right, about one block and around the corner.” His hand swished in the air to describe the route.

“Thanks.”

“So
where
are we going?” Kitty asked.

“To my office,” I said, leading her around the corner.

“We're going home?” I could tell by the sound of her voice that she wasn't sure whether she should be relieved or disappointed.

“No, my office here.”

“I know you know that I have no idea what you just said,” she remarked, stopping in her tracks.

I looked around for something that would match the description of a motoway entrance, then at her with complete sympathy. “I'm sorry I got you involved. I'll get you home as soon as possible, but there are answers for me here. I'm starting to understand why I'm so important to these two guys. But I need to be sure which side I think should win.”

“Don't you want Mason to win?”

The easy answer was yes. But this was the new me who took nothing for granted. I said, “I
want
to want to. But I need to see what there is to see here.”

Kitty chewed on her lower lip and looked around at the familiar yet unfamiliar people swirling around us. “I don't think it's a good idea to know things out of time and place. It just seems to go against the rules of the universe or whatever.”

I put my hands on my hips. “And what are the rules of the universe?”

She blinked at me. “Well, you know.” She waved her arms in front of her. “The rules of the universe.”

“Uh-huh. Well, here's the thing. Both Mason and Leonardo have shown me a version of my reality in which the other is willing to take my life in the name of this case.”

“Ah,” she said. Then, clearly unable to process that, she said, “How can you have an office here? I mean, do we even really exist in this time, much less keep offices?”

I looked up at the tip of the ferry building spire for reference again, then back at Kitty, smiled, and said, “Yes and no. It will depend.”

The motoway entrance turned out to be fairly obvious at the spot the pedestrian had described. People crowded together in a mob that dispersed several yards later into different lanes, like lines for an amusement park ride. Beyond the crowd was, at first glance, a sort of blur. Kitty and I joined the crowd and watched the blur. It wavered and flickered and began to take form. I thought I saw wheels. But my view was blocked as the mob suddenly surged forward, and Kitty and I were swept into a sea of leather, padding, and helmets.

Aside from the attire, the people looked regular, with briefcases, loads of laundry, bags of groceries, and, of course, the ubiquitous earpieces and smarties. The line proceeded in a fairly organized manner, without yelling or shoving. One couldn't even hear specific voices; with everyone on the phone doing business or talking to friends and family, the rising sound was a cacophonous murmur.

The crowd moved forward again, passing under an archway that supported the transit structure. I glanced
over at Kitty to see how she was coping. She was coping fine, was actually flirting with the guy in the line next to us. “Are you from the suburbs?” I heard him ask, his glance flickering over our clothing.

I stuck my head between them. “Yeah.”

He smiled apologetically. “I'm afraid they won't let you on without regulation attire.”

Kitty and I looked at each other. The guy pointed kitty-corner to a storefront. “There's a rental depot right there.”

I smiled and grabbed Kitty's hand. “Thanks.” I dragged her across the street, hesitated with my hand on the glass for just a moment, then pushed my way in.

The man at the counter was wearing a suit and tie, a somewhat incongruous combination given the nature of the garb on racks running the length of the store. One glance into the adjoining room revealed a stockpile of weapons. “You can rent a grenade?” I said in disbelief. The storekeeper smiled. “What can I help you with?”

“We need . . .” What did we need? “Regulation stuff for the motoway.”

“Two sets of leathers?”

Kitty and I glanced at each other. “Everything we need for the ride. If you could just fit us out with the whole shebang.”

He smiled. “Of course. Right this way.” He ushered us to the racks, gave us the expert once-over, and pulled two leather jackets with matching pants and what must have been the rental serial codes imprinted on the cuffs. He brought them to the counter
and then gestured to the armory. “Pick out what you like. You can get helmets at the terminal.”

“Helmets?”

He raised an eyebrow. “They haven't let people go without in years. Where are you girls from?”

Kitty looked at me with alarm. “The suburbs,” I said.

“How nice,” he replied, then disappeared into another storage room while Kitty and I picked up our leathers and stepped into the armory.

“Oh, my God. What should we take?” I asked.

“What should we take? Uh, how about
nothing
?” I didn't miss the tone of Kitty's voice, suggesting impending hysteria. But I didn't have time.

“I think we need just a couple of weapons. Something . . . minor,” I said.

“Weapons? Who are we thinking of killing?”

“I dunno.” I cracked a smile, because if you can't laugh at yourself . . . “Maybe Mason and Leo?”

Kitty raised an eyebrow, but didn't respond to my clearly rhetorical question. Instead, she held the leathers to her body to check the sizing and shrugged. “These go over our clothes, right?”

“I guess so. I mean, I don't fancy the idea of leaving my underwear with the store clerk.”

She laughed and climbed into the pants. I did likewise, but my attention was on the grenades, rifles, and assorted other weapons in the room. I had no interest in actually using them, so it seemed stupid to take anything except maybe a knife and a pistol. I stuck a knife in Kitty's boot and cradled a gun in both hands. It was like the pistol in my closet. Well,
it was the same kind, and like the shoes and the dress that moved in and out of my life as Leonardo and Mason played deejay to my record, it could have even been the very same one. I slipped the pistol into a side pocket with a strap that seemed designed as a kind of holster.

“Hey, Rox?”

“Yeah.” I glanced up and nearly choked. Kitty was holding an enormous gun up alongside her body.

“Does this semiautomatic weapon make my butt look big?”

We both giggled. “No, that semiautomatic weapon does
not
make your butt look big.”

Kitty laughed and threw a sock in my face.

Twenty minutes later, decked out in the leathers and some lug-soled boots, we trundled back to the counter. I felt ridiculous. I slapped my credit card down. There was a pause. The salesman looked at it. Then he poked it with a mix of confusion and distaste. He looked at us. “One of you did remember your smartie, yes?”

“My smartie. Right. My smartie.”

He nodded and held out his hand. I looked at it, then at Kitty, who gave me a how-the-hell-would-I-know look, and then I slowly pulled Leo's reader from my pocket and laid it on the counter.

“Marvelous.” He took the smartie-cum-reader, and while he was busy scanning infrared over the bar codes imprinted on our rental equipment, I stuck my credit card back in my pocket and tried not to think about the fact that Leo most likely could track us through this. Perhaps it wouldn't matter.

The clerk handed the device back to me. “All set.”

“Thanks.” We turned and started for the door. I stopped short. “When we're done with this stuff?”

“Just turn it in to the nearest rental depot,” he said, pulling out a cloth and wiping the smudges off the glass countertop. “We all have reciprocity.”

Kitty and I stepped out of the shop and headed across the street to get back in line for the motoway.

“This is really hot,” she said, tugging at her collar. “I don't get why we have to wear it.”

I didn't have the heart to point out that the use of leather, plus the prefix
moto
in motoway, implied something other than the sort of transportation the word
subway
implied. The guy moving next to her had the top of his leather jacket open, beneath which I could see his charcoal pin-striped coat, that usual mandarin collar, plus a crisp white shirt and a tie. I hoped that meant this was safe.

“Where to?” said a man who clearly worked for the motoway.

I gave him the address for the office building where Mason and Leonardo had taken me. Apparently the address existed, because he didn't blink an eye when he said, “Smartie, please.”