People like having more options, but they do make things more complicated!
The last time I saw Ginger, she was sporting two breasts instead of three. Personally, I thought her breasts were perfect before, but I know that with some guys you could never have too much of a good thing.
When I stepped out of the shower, she was sitting there on the edge of my bed, decked out in a silky red number with a slit up the side that showed plenty of her long legs and a plunging neckline that definitely revealed too much of a good thing. Steam wafted out from the bathroom and rose from my bare skin. I was naked except for the towel around my waist. Outside my tinted floor-to-ceiling window, a constant swarm of Versatian hoverpods hummed and whizzed past, everybody in a hurry to get somewhere on a planet where everybody supposedly came so they didn’t have to hurry.
“I need your help,” she said.
No hello. No how have you been. No sorry for breaking your heart, emptying your credit account, and taking off with your ship and your entire twentieth-century holodisc collection. The last time I saw her, I was stepping into a shower. Now, five years later, I stepped out of one and there she was.
“You have a strange sense of irony,” I said.
“Huh?”
“Never mind. How’d you get in here?”
She shrugged. “Bribed the desk clerk. I’m pretty sure he thought I was a hooker.”
“You
She made a
“Sorry. You know, I
“You’re working? In a place like this?”
“I’m checking the security system for the hotel.”
“Ah,” she said, and waved her hand dismissively. “Since when does Dexter Duff stoop to grunt work like that?”
“A lot of things have changed since you ran out on me, Ginger.”
She made a pouty face, sticking out her lower lip and making her eyes wide. In the old days, I found that look irresistible. Now it just looked childish, which was probably what it was all along. “Oh, dear,” she said, “you sound bitter. I was hoping that was all water over the bridge.”
“Under the bridge,” I said.
“Whatever. Look, if you want to take me to bed, let’s do it, and then we’ll get all the tension out of the air.”
“You just said you were married!”
She shrugged. “It’s not like he’d care. He doesn’t care about anything any more. That’s part of the problem.”
“Oh, I feel so sorry for you. Let me get you a Repsiter harp and you can earn some tokens down on the tramspace.”
She sighed and stood, smoothing out her dress. “Look, are we going to do it or not?”
“I’d rather lay down with a pair of blood-sucking Mornala tree worms. At least they have
“I bet if you drop that towel,” she said, “we’d find out you really think otherwise. There’s some things a man can’t hide.”
I snorted derisively and headed for the built-ins, the drawers sliding out of the wall before I got there. The tile floor felt cold against my bare feet. I dressed quickly, mostly because I was afraid my body was going to betray me despite my best intentions. My towel slid off before I’d managed to get my pants all the way on, giving her a damn good view of everything I had to offer. Or didn’t.
“God, what happened to you?” she said.
It took me a moment to realize she meant the scars. “You know my line of work, Ginger.”
“Yeah, but you never looked like that back then.”
I slipped the shirt over my head and straightened the collar. “I was younger back then. These days, I don’t always manage to duck when I should be ducking or dodge when I should be dodging.”
“Maybe you should get into another line of work,” she said.
“Maybe you slither back under whatever rock you came out from under,” I replied.
I glared at her. She looked back with her practiced look of placid bemusement, like she was humoring a small child. Still glaring at her, I hand-printed the safe next to my bed, pulled out on my laser pistol, and checked to make sure it was fully charged. It was. Then I checked to see if her expression had changed upon seeing me holding a weapon. She still looked at me like I was a two-year-old. I slipped on my shoulder holster and placed the pistol in it, then donned my leather jacket and my boots. Only when I started toward the outside door did she finally speak up.
“All right,” she said, “I’ll tell you what I want.”
I stopped, not yet turning around. “You know, no matter what you tell me, I’m not going to help you.”
“Even if I paid you?”
“Especially if you paid me.”
“Even if I paid you an
“Even… Even then.”
My hesitation had only been for a second, long enough to think about the sad state of my credit account and all the freeze-dried food cubes that had served as meals the past few months, a moment of weakness that lasted no longer than a blink of an eye, but she sensed it like a spider senses a twitch in its web.
“Darling,” she said, her heels clicking on the tile floor, her voice drawing nearer, “you do understand that I am a
“I wouldn’t do it for twenty.”
“Then I guess I better make it twenty-five.”
I had no idea what she wanted me to do, or whether I’d be willing to do it once I found out what it was, but even a small job would have to be a lot of money. I’d been trying to get my act together for quite a while, and there was always something that set me back. Usually that something involved a trip to a medical ward. This could have finally gotten me my own ship. Maybe even a couple of robots to take care of the small stuff.
She touched me on the shoulder. I tensed.
“Duff,” she whispered, “was it really all that bad?”
“Yes, Ginger, it was.”
“All of it?”
I thought about it. There’d been other women after Ginger, some who’d broken my heart just as badly—for some reason, it was a recurring problem—but she had been the first, the one who’d made me afraid to ever let my guard down again. “If you stayed up all night reading a multivid,” I said, “but the ending was so horrible that you threw the vid across the room, do you remember that the vid was good enough to keep you screening until that point? Or do you just remember how you felt at the end?”
“Hmm,” she said, a bit of a purr in her voice, “I was never one for reading. I always liked my pleasures a little more… real.”
When she said his, she ran her hand up my inner thigh. It would have been easy to give in, but there was no way I was going to let her get the upper hand with me, and I knew if we got anywhere near the bed she would definitely have the upper hand. She’d been a AAA sex professional, after all, certified by all the top prostitution boards and trained by the Sisters of Desire, the masters of erotic pleasure on New Saturn who only took in sixty-nine pupils each year.
I spun around and grabbed her shoulders. “Stop it,” I said. “You’re not doing this to me again.”
“Ow, darling, you’re hurting me.”
My fingers pressed into the soft flesh of her arms, but I didn’t loosen my grip. We stood close enough that I saw the flecks of gold in her emerald eyes, something new, something else she’d done to herself since we’d been together. We stood close enough that her breath was hot on my face. My heart was pounding.
“Listen,” I said, “if I do anything for you, it will be purely for money, got it? I don’t want you mentioning our past again. It’s just business. We’ve never met. I’m just Dexter Duff, private investigator. You understand? Am I getting through that thick skull of yours,
She blinked up at me. “So you’re saying you’ll do it?”
I sighed. Same old Ginger. You could talk and talk but she always picked out what she wanted to hear. If I ended up working for her, I knew what I was getting into. She was a liar and a cheat and she was good at getting people to do what she wanted even when they knew what she was.
“I’ll listen,” I said, but I felt like I’d already agreed.
The tramspace was always crowded in the morning, but I was in no mood to travel any farther with Ginger than necessary. A flurry of hoverpods docked and departed all around the giant transparent tunnel, a quarter mile across. The main concourse was filled with every life form and non-life form imaginable—humans, Dulnari, Hasians, and plenty of four-armed Veratians in their spiffy white uniforms directing tourists to different excursions, not to mention all the robots and androids carrying people’s bags. Beneath the invisible walkway—it was like we were all walking on air—dozens of massive white cruise ships floated in the sleek emerald waters of the Versatia’s famous ocean.
We were lucky, and found a table at a bistro not far from the transport tube. The smell of coffee and toasted bagels made my stomach grumble.
“It all started when—” Ginger began.
I held up a hand. “Not until I get my coffee.”
When were finally seated at a corner table, in a glass bubble overlooking the ocean, I kept her waiting until I’d buttered my bagel and put cream in my coffee. She clicked her fingernails on the shiny black countertop.
“All right,” I said.
“Really? I have your permission to speak now?”
“Don’t push your luck, kid.”
She smiled. “Kid? You haven’t called me that since you met me on the asteroid mining outfit where you stopped for repairs.”
“Should have left you there, too. Those miners have probably really missed your services.”
She made a clicking sound of displeasure with her tongue. “Now, now. All right, so where do I start? I assume you know that my husband is Vergon Daughn—”
That made me pause mid-bite into my bagel. “Vergon? Of Vergon Enterprises?”
She sighed. “Don’t you follow the news at all? My wedding four months ago was all over the vids. Yes, that Vergon. He built a fledgling stepdock company a decade ago into a massive corporation employing over a million people on thirty-three different planets.”
She was right that I didn’t follow the news much, but I did know a little about Vergon Daughn. When she’d mentioned being married to one of the richest stepdock manufacturers in the known universe, he definitely wasn’t who had come to mind—for one specific reason. “Um,” I began, “isn’t he… an android?”
“That’s right,” she said.
“You’re telling me you married an android?”
“Uh-huh. I wasn’t the one who liberated him and paid for his humanizing—some old bag who’d owned him did it before she died. But I definitely saw a good thing and went after him. Honestly, he didn’t stand a chance when I came along. He proposed within six weeks.”
I stared at her a long time, soaking all this in. My main complaint about Ginger had always been that she wasn’t born with the same set of emotions as other human beings—like the ability to empathize with someone other than herself—and here she went and married somebody who didn’t have emotions at all. Oh, androids could fake them, and some faked them so well that they could pass for human unless they walked under a bio scanner—but it was all an act. It was why, according to the laws of the Unity Worlds, even a liberated android still didn’t possess the full rights of a biological sentient—or biosen, for short. They would always be considered property. Now property could have a lot of rights, just like intergalactic corporations were property but still had plenty of rights, but it wasn’t the same.
Of course, there were lots of bleeding hearts of every race and planet who argued that liberated androids should be granted the same rights as biosens, but so far the law had been firm. Mostly this was because it was backed by hard science: androids may have been some of the most sophisticated machines every devised, but they were still machines.
Finally, I burst out laughing.
“What’s so funny?” she said.
“You wouldn’t understand,” I said.
She offered up her trademark pout. “It’s not like I’m some lonely heart who bought an android to be my lover. He’s liberated and humanized—he could have chosen anyone, and believe me, he had plenty of women after him. It was love at first light.”
“First sight.”
She frowned. “If you understand what I’m saying, why do you always have to correct me? It’s one of the things that always irritated me about you.”
“If you’re irritated,” I said tersely, “you’re welcome to leave at any time.”
“Oh, no. No, darling. I’m sorry… It’s just this whole thing has me so upset. Forgive me, okay? I just didn’t get all the schooling you did. I’ve had to teach myself—after you taught me a lot of things, that is.” She sighed. “Anyway, to get back to what I was saying, it was love at first sight. But then Vergon went and screwed things up by becoming human.”
I was lifting the coffee cup to my lips, and in my surprise, I spilled some on the table. “What?”
“Oh, I have your attention now? Right before our wedding, he surprised me by showing up at our rehearsal dinner fully human. He showed himself off to our guests by bringing a handheld bio scanner with him. I was… shocked, to say the least. It’s called the BIP—Biological Imprinting Procedure. You grow a biosen in the lab, then use microlasers to imprint the same memories and thought patterns as the android.”
I mopped up the coffee with one of the paper napkins. I’d heard about the procedure, but the last I knew it was still in the research and development phase. There were also all kinds of ethical issues surrounding it. “Is that procedure now authorized by the Unity Worlds?”
“Of course not,” she said. “It’s going to be a lifetime before that happens, if ever. But if you have enough money, you can make things happen. And once he was human, what were they going to do? The bioscans all show him as human, and he made sure to confer all the legal rights on his human body of ownership in Vergon Enterprises just to make sure.”
“Why?” I said.
She grimaced. “To please me, of course.”
“What?”
“He said he wanted to love me for real. He said—he said—” She stopped, and there were tears brimming in her eyes. “He said I might not know the difference, but he would. He would know that he wasn’t feeling it, even if he was showing it.”
I wasn’t quite sure I bought her sudden display of weepiness. “Seems understandable. Do you blame him?”
“No! I don’t blame him. But he’s… not the same, Duff. You may not believe this, but I loved Vergon the way he was before.”
“You’re saying the procedure didn’t work?”
She took one of my napkins and dabbed at her eyes. “Oh, no, it worked,” she said. “It definitely worked. The human Vergon had all of the android Vergon’s memories. He’d made the body to look like him, too. At first, he even acted like him. But… he started changing. He acted moody all the time. He fell into a deep depression. It hurt his company—it began to go downhill. Then—then we had this awful fight. I told him I wished he’d never done it. I told him I loved him more as android.” She sniffled. “I guess that confirms everything you ever said about me… I really am awful deep down.”
I resisted the urge to take hold of her hand, and it was a powerful urge. “So what happened?” “He went back to being an android.”
“He did?”
She nodded. “He did the procedure in reverse—had another android body made, too, since he’d destroyed the original just to be safe. He made a big speech to the press, saying he’d planned to do it all along, that he wanted to test the laws that limited his rights, but I knew the truth. He was doing it to make me happy.”
“So what’s the problem?”
She looked up at me, eyes misty. “The problem,” she said, “is that he’s gone.”
“Gone? As in, dead?”
She shook her head. “I hope he’s not dead. Right after he did the procedure and gave a press conference, he vanished. He told his attendants he was going to use the restroom, and they went to look for him, he was gone. It’s been almost six weeks.”
“An android using the restroom?” I said.
“Yes, the attendants realized later how stupid they were. They’d just gotten used to him being human and forgot.”
“Have you hired other investigators?”
“No,” she said, “I’m afraid to.”
“Why? With your money, you could hire droves of them. That would increase your odds of finding him.”
She shook her head. “You don’t understand. I told you his company is going downhill. It’s even worse. There’s this other corporation, Granger Holdings, that’s trying to take it over. Because the stock price is down, they’re making a run at it. Without Vergon around to steady some nerves, the stockholders are starting to sell out. The thing is, Granger does exactly what Vergon does—make stepdocks. They just want to eliminate the competition. So if they get control of it, they’ll just sell off all the equipment to recoup their loses and then fire all the employees.”
“What does this have to do with hiring some private investigators?”
“Because I can’t trust anyone!” she insisted. “Already, I’m pretty sure I’m being followed.” She glanced over her shoulder, peering into the hordes of people passing along the concourse.
I didn’t see anyone but tourists. “Why?”
“Why! Because they don’t want me to find Vergon, that’s why. They want to keep the stock price low, and if he shows up, it will probably jump. The shareholders would wait to see what the brilliant Vergon Daughn is going to do. No, I’m afraid whoever I hire will really be working for them. I need somebody I can trust.”
“And you trust me?”
She nodded. “Iconic, isn’t it?”
“Iconic, ironic, whatever is it is, I need your help, Duff. I can’t do this without you. I want to find my husband.”
I said nothing.
“And if you won’t do it for me,” she said, “do it for the million employees of Vergon Enterprises that will lose their jobs. Do it for them. That’s why even if he’s dead…” She hesitated, closing her eyes and steadying herself before continuing. “Even if he’s dead, I need to know. At least the company could appoint a new CEO, which the board doesn’t want to do until they know for sure he’s gone. Maybe then we could still save the company.”
It was quite a tale. It would be easy enough to check, so I assumed it was true, but that didn’t mean I trusted her motives. But I was curious why a man—correction, an android—like Vergon Daughn would up and disappear, putting in jeopardy all his years of hard work. If nothing else, I could find Vergon just to satisfy that curiosity, and maybe, just maybe, I could end up doing some good while I was at it.
And, of course, get paid
“All right,” I said, “I’ll find him for you.”
“Oh, good!”
“But I want the money up front.”
In the end, it was she who clasped my hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Of course, Duff. Whatever you want.”
Looking at her, her eyes wide and her lips parting slightly, I remembered her whispering those very words to me late at night between satin sheets. I remembered and tried to put it out of my mind.
Money.
I was doing this for money.
The credit showed up in my account within ten minutes of Ginger passing through the stepdock back to the Vergon Enterprises headquarters on Palfacia Prime. It was twice even the outrageous amount I’d quoted to her, with so many zeroes in the number that I actually brought up the bank on nexlink to verify it wasn’t a mistake. Ever after the holorep assured me that the deposit was, indeed, accurate, I still procrastinated for the rest of the day before finally calling up my hotel client and asking him if I could take a hiatus for a couple of weeks for personal reasons, assuring him I’d come back and finish the job. I somewhat hoped he’d say no, but he didn’t.
Finally out of excuses, I set to work finding Mr. Vergon Daughn, the android who became a human who became an android.
The first thing I did was get in touch with the biomechanical engineer who performed the human-to-android transference, who, it turned out, was the same one who’d performed the BIP and made Vergon human in the first place—a tall and spindly Dulnari named Bwer Fwer. I tried him on the vid first and was told by a pert blond—so bubbly she had to be an android—that he’d see me that afternoon if I could come to his office.
His clinic, Mind-Body Technologies, was located on one of the oldest and richest planets in the Unity Worlds. It was a gas giant named Jellon with a trillion inhabitants and well over a hundred stepdocks, so there was no need to take a ship or shuttle at any point. But I’d been poor too long to take a direct step, so it still took two hours of hopping across the galaxy and fighting through crowded immigration controls to get to the gleaming black tower that contained his office.
After waiting in his lobby for
“If this is how you treat people who have appointments,” I said, “how do you treat everyone else?”
His beady eyes flared briefly, but it was the only outward sign of emotion. Right away I knew he was no ordinary Dulnari, because an ordinary Dulnari would have leapt across the table and gone for my throat at the slightest provocation.
A decade earlier, the Dulnari had been a major threat to the Unity Worlds, in a bloody war that lasted nearly thirty years, and even now there still weren’t many of them who held anything but the most mundane jobs. This was partly due to how much the war had set them back as a race, but it was mostly because of the nature of the Dulnari themselves. Because of their telepathic connections to one another, in concert they were incredibly intelligent, but individually they weren’t much smarter than low-grade AI floor sweepers. How one could ascend by himself to become a brilliant engineer—one Vergon was willing to risk his life with—was hard to believe.
“Mister Duff,” he said, extending his hand, “I’m sorry to keep you waiting. I was conferencing with several senators and they were being quite stubborn about some of my requests.”
It was the first time I’d shaken hands with a Dulnari. His four-fingered hand was smaller than my own, but his skin was tougher and thicker. There were lots of folks who still wouldn’t shake hands with a Dulnari, veterans of the war or victims of their atrocities, but I didn’t fall into either of those camps. The need had simply never arisen.
“It’s just Duff,” I said. “I would have been happy to talk to you over the vid, you know.”
“Yes, that would have certainly been more convenient,” he said, “but I felt it was necessary to talk to you in person.” He froze for a second, and it was like watching a hiccup in a vid feed. “Yes, yes, quite right. Most unusual.”
“I’m sorry?” I said.
“Hmm?”
“What’s unusual?”
“What do you mean?”
It was like he didn’t know what he’d just said. Some form of schizophrenia or stepdock madness? I’d also never heard a Dulnari speak in such an articulate manner, especially in Unity Worlds Prime. He motioned to one of the two seats across from him. It was then, when he slightly cocked his head to the side, that I noticed something black and electronic behind his ears, tiny lights flashing red and blue.
“You have an implant,” I said.
“Yes,” he said, showing no sign of offense. “The ones I make now are much less crude, completely internal, but mine is now so integrated into my biological processes that it would extremely problematic to remove it.”
“Is that why you’re…” I began, not knowing quite how to phrase the question.
“Smarter than your average individual Dulnari?” he finished for me. “Yes. My implant contains a hundred mature Dulnari intelligences. All AIs, of course, but my mind sees them no differently than the real thing… The flaring is quite unusual this time of year.”
“Excuse me?”
He blinked a few times. “Hmm?”
“You said something about the flaring being unusual this time of year.”
“I did? Oh, yes. The side effects. You see, though the implant gives me the intelligence of a small Dulnari group mind, I have not yet perfected the natural filter process that works with a real group mind. So I may occasionally say things not intended for you. I apologize for this in advance. Please, be seated.”
I did, and so did he. The three windows behind him displayed a gorgeous view of the city’s skyline, but everything else about the room was absolutely sterile: a desk with a built-in monitor and keyboard, three chairs, and nothing else. Not even a couple of holovids on the walls.
“I never intended to spend much time here,” he explained.
“I’m sorry?” I said.
“This room, I see the way you’re looking at it. But I always intended it to be mostly for show. I’m a lab rat, Duff. That’s where I’d like to spend most of my time, and where I did spend most of my time until my company was bought out. Then the new owners made certain changes that forced me into more of a… diplomatic role.” He said the last two words with a sneer, and for just a moment I thought of the wolf in the Red Riding Hood fairy tale, dressed up in human clothes and pretending to be something he wasn’t.
“Hobnobbing with senators, you mean?” I said.
“Exactly. It’s dreadfully boring… Multivids are on sale in Setifine… But you don’t care about any of that. Let me tell you why we had to meet in person. When Ginger Daughn first questioned me about all of this, I was absolutely convinced that her husband’s disappearance had nothing at all to do with his procedure—or at least, that nothing in his procedure directly caused it. It went perfectly. Every test confirmed it… the low-g yoga is best after breakfast… If he disappeared, it was either his own choice or because he was abducted, not because there was some defect in the transference that modified his personality.” He shook his head. “Now, I’m not so sure.”
His non-sequiturs were annoying, but I was getting better at ignoring them. “What do you mean?”
He clasped his slender hands and leaned his long snout on them, closing his eyes for a moment before answering. “Our equipment has been tampered with.”
“What?”
He opened his eyes and looked at me. “It’s why I had to have you come here in person. I don’t know who to trust… The headaches go away in a few days, Kylor tells me.”
I pretended he hadn’t made the headache comment. “You sound like Ginger,” I said. “She didn’t know who to trust either.”
“Honestly, I’m not even sure I can trust you, Duff. However, one of the reasons you were kept waiting was that we were performing scans of your responses to our questioning. There is every indication that you are truly here investigating Vergon Daughn’s death.”
“You gave me a lie detector test?”
He nodded. “Three of them, in fact. I’m sorry about that, but I had to be sure… A hangover is no cure for happiness.”
“Who tampered with the equipment?”
“If I knew that,” he said, “I probably wouldn’t need your help.”
“What was done?”
He clicked his fingernails on the desk. Dulnari fingernails had the same look and texture as volcanic glass, so the clicking sounded vaguely like tinging wine goblets. “It’s hard to say. It turned up on a deep diagnostic, meaning it was somebody who really knew what they were doing… I don’t play MateMax at the Laztor, no.”
“What happened to the human body?”
“It was disposed of. I personally attended to its incineration.”
“You… killed him?”
“Oh, no. That would be murder according to Unity Worlds law, even if that’s not technically what it is. No, he committed suicide, which is entirely legal here on Jellon. He had several witnesses from the press there. He wanted absolutely no doubt that the new android Vergon Daughn was the only Vergon Daughn. Otherwise there could be sticky legal issues… I see that this idea makes you uncomfortable, Mr. Duff.”
“Well, yeah,” I said. “I mean, to the human Vergon Daughn, it was still like dying wasn’t it?”
“No,” he said. “It wasn’t. To you, to most biosens, even to me to a minor extent, a reverse BIP would seem like death… I hear the fruit is quite delicious… Few humans would be willing to do it. But to an android, a perfect copy is a perfect copy, indistinguishable from the original in every sense.”
“If you say so,” I said. “Who bought you out? The company, I mean.”
“Oh, just one of those intergalactic corporations that owns a little bit of everything. They’re called Granger Holdings. I’m sure you’ve never heard of them.”
“No, actually, I have,” I said, trying to hide my surprise. “And they bought you out
“Yes. It was between when I performed his BIP and when he came back for his reversal. I explained to him that I was no longer allowed to perform the operation myself, that it all had to be automated by robots because Granger wanted to roll out the process for mass production, but he said that if I at least oversaw the operation, that would be enough… why, are you allergic to peanuts?”
“Could somebody have altered the new Vergon android in some way?”
He nodded. “That is quite possible. In fact, that is what I fear most… Shakespeare was not bad writer, for a human… I fear Vergon has gone a bit insane, or his memories have been tampered with in some way, and if you do find him and it is proven correct, then Mind-Body Technologies will be blamed for it rather than whoever tampered with the equipment.”
“Ah,” I said, “I’m beginning to understand.”
He looked at me with his dark, penetrating eyes. “Do you? I’m asking you to be discreet in your investigation, Duff. And of course, I’m willing to pay you handsomely for your discretion.”
“In other words, if I find him, and he’s out of his mind, you want me to lie.”
“Oh, no. Not lie. That would be unethical. Just delay the truth until we can make certain that we have enough evidence to present what actually happened. We’re doing more diagnostics, but it could take a while… Dulnaris have no need for shampoo… How much credit would you require?”
Somehow I doubted they were performing more diagnostics. What was more likely was that they wanted to doctor the evidence, if not outright manufacture it, so that no one would ever think they were to blame. “Zero,” I said.
“Excuse me?”
“I only work for one client at a time, Bwer Fwer.”
“I see.”
“But I will tell you this. If I find him, and he’s crazy, I’ll definitely let you know.”
He frowned. “That’s very kind of you… My mother-pod still thinks I’m unmodified.”
“Give my best to your mother-pod.”
“What?”
I left without answering.
The next two days were a series of dead ends and wrong turns that left me increasingly frustrated. Deciding to stay on Jellon until I had another lead, I spent most of the time on the vid in a cheap hotel—old habits die hard—talking with various associates, friends, and employees of Vergon Daughn. The picture that emerged was of a cautious, quiet, and extremely logical android who became an even more quiet, cautious and logical man, somebody with no hobbies other than the one he’d developed fairly recently—keeping the three-breasted woman in his life happy. Otherwise, he spent all his time working.
Even his personal attendants couldn’t offer anything useful, except to say he seemed even quieter and more withdrawn after he became a human. I was trying to get a handle on where a slightly deranged Vergon Daughn might go, and it would have been helpful if I had hobbies, interests, or favorite places to get me started.
Then, on the third day on Jellon, it came me: maybe he hadn’t left at all.
Maybe he was still there.
Like everyone else, I’d assumed that because Vergon Daughn was a genius with technology, he would have found a way to fool the security scanners at all the stepdocks or spaceports. But even without the scanners, that would have been incredibly risky. No, the most
But where would he go? Someplace hospitable for androids, so perhaps one of the large cities where there’d be plenty of power grids and high-traffic nexlinks. I started to make a list of all the underground contacts I knew in the biggest cities, people who could point me in the right direction, when I realized I had it all wrong.
Vergon wouldn’t go to a big city. He was too smart for that. He’d go someplace nobody would expect an android to go.
The good news was that most of Jellon was highly developed, so there were really only a handful of places an android wouldn’t be able to survive long without returning to civilization—the Harlo Desert, the Three Seas of Kinl, and Nelsani Rainforest. In fact, he wouldn’t have been able to get far in any of them without some sort of guide. If my theory was right, I just had to find the guide.
I downloaded a list of travel agents and other tourist operations to my handheld, then headed out into the crowded streets, past booths of loud-mouthed vendors of every race imaginable, the air alive with sizzling grease and pungent spices. I was about halfway to the nearest stepdock when I had the distinct feeling I was being followed.
In the elbow-to-elbow crowd, I was barely able to lift my arms, but I managed to round a corner and duck into a shadowy alcove. I hung back, the crowd drifting past like a river choked with debris. I watched, waiting, looking for a reaction of some kind from somebody, and then I saw it.
A muscular blond human in a black trench coat picked up his pace and rounded the corner.
I dropped into the crowd and followed. When I rounded the corner myself, we came face-to-face. He’d been running, and he pulled up short. His face was expressionless, but it was still frozen in place.
“Hey, buddy,” I said, clamping down on his arm, “I want to have a word—”
My fingers might as well have been made of tissue because he tore out of my grip as if it was nothing. Then he was running, nimbly dodging through the crowd, sprinting away at such a speed that he was halfway down the street before I managed to even shout after him.
“You! Come back!”
It wasn’t one of my most original moments. But by the time I’d thought of something better to say, he was already gone.
It was going on three weeks when I wandered into the bamboo hut at the outskirts of the tiny village of Gonoa, one of five villages in the foothills of the Nelsani Mountains. Outside, the rain sliced into the vegetation like a machete. Even after the door swung shut, the downpour still filled the hut with a roar.
I was tired and cranky and about to give up. Of course, I’d been feeling that way for the past week, and still I found myself pressing on to the next destination. The only problem was that I was running out of destinations. I’d searched every dune of the Harlo Desert, all three seas of the Three Seas of Kinl, and a good chunk of the Nelsani Rainforest
Racks of hiking and hunting gear packed the hut. The popular flared canoes hung from the ceiling. Twangy harp music—annoyingly popular on Jellon—played from speakers mounted in the corners, and the only good thing about the rain was that it mostly blotted out the music. The musky stench of the rainforest, the smell that got into everything and stayed there like a bad houseguest, hung heavy in the air.
Nobody seemed to be around. I pushed past some brown repel coats and some anti-grav moccasins and found a counter for vacation booking. Nobody was there either, though there appeared to be a room behind the counter, obscured from view by beads. There was a smell too, wafting out from the back room, a tangy odor that immediately brought water to my eyes. It smelled vaguely of lemons.
“Hello?” I said.
A dark-skinned man, bald on top but thick black beard below, pushed through the rattling beads. He carried a bundle of yellow rope, coiled in a circle. He wore a camo vest that bared his muscular arms. His skin was mocha brown, except for the pink jagged scar on his right shoulder. There was a bit of silver in his beard, but I wouldn’t have tried to guess his age. He could have been thirty or fifty.
“Welcome to Nelsani, good man,” he said, exhaling a hint of smoke from his nostrils, and that lemon smell got stronger. “Are you here for a tour? If you book today, I can give you—”
“I’m actually here looking for someone,” I said.
“Oh?” he said.
“Yes. I’m looking for an android. He’s quite famous, actually. His name is Vergon Daughn. Maybe you’ve heard of him?”
The man stared at me as if I’d spoken in another language.
“I have reason to believe he’s on this planet,” I went on, “and that he might be in a remote location. Maybe he came to see you, or maybe you heard of him passing through.”
He simply stared, blinking.
“Any help would be much appreciated. His wife is very worried.”
He might as well have been a statue. I felt like strangling him. I might not have been able to do it—he was a decent-sized fellow, after all—but I was willing to give it a shot. It would make life more interesting for a while, at least.
“Did you hear me?” I said.
“I heard you,” he said. “I’m trying to decide whether to help you.”
My hopes soared. Finally, a breakthrough. “You’ve seen Daughn?”
“Didn’t say that. But I might be able to help you.”
“How?”
He placed the rope on a hook behind him, turning his back to me. “That depends on how much the information is worth it to you.”
I gritted my teeth. “You want a bribe?”
“That’s such an ugly word,” he said. “I was thinking more… payment for services rendered.” He turned and looked at me, and I could tell by his expression that he wasn’t jerking me around. He really felt he could help me.
“How do I know if your information is worth anything?”
He shrugged. “I guess you’ll have to pay me to find out. It’s no big deal to me either way. Now, excuse me, I’ve got to take care of some chores—”
“All right, all right,” I said.
I downloaded some credit to his account. He told me he knew somebody who could take me to him. I downloaded some more credit. He told me the person was him. I downloaded an obscene amount of credit and he told me to be outside in ten minutes.
Three hours of hiking later, we pushed through a wall of blood-red Tasid vines and into a clearing. It had rained only for the first hour, and baked us in eyelid-sticking heat for the next two, but such was the humidity that my clothes still felt sopping wet. I’d even bought the best rain gear my guide’s shop had to offer, but it hadn’t made a whit of difference.
The feathery branches of the mushroom-shaped Vidi trees blocked all but a few glimmerings of sunlight, sunlight that reflected off the mirrored exterior of a tent in the center of the clearing. It was covered in solar panels, I realized, and of course that made perfect sense. Weak as the light was, it would probably provide just enough charge for a single android.
My guide—he told me his name was Asif Phoenix, and that was the only thing he’d said despite my repeated questioning—gestured to the hut. I nodded, too out of breath to answer. He, on the other hand, didn’t even look like he’d cracked a sweat. I wondered how many years he’d been trekking up and down the mountain.
“You in there, Vergon?” I said
It took a moment, but the flap in the tent opened and then there he was—Vergon Daughn, in the flesh. Or in the silicon-plastic compound, as it were. He wore a camo outfit much like my guide’s, except that Vergon’s covered every inch of his body. He was shorter and less imposing than I’d expected from his holos.
“How did you… “ he began, and then he saw Asif. “Ah, so how much did he pay you?”
“Enough,” Asif said.
“So much for loyalty,” Vergon said.
“You didn’t pay me to be loyal.”
“I see. In the end, it’s always about the money, isn’t it?”
Asif said nothing, simply standing there looking imposing. Vergon turned to me.
“Did she hire you?”
I nodded.
“I thought as much. My other thought was that you were an assassin sent by Granger Holdings, but if that were the case, I would most likely be dead by now. Who are you?”
“My name’s Dexter Duff,” I said.
“Well, Mister Duff—”
“Just Duff.”
“Duff, then. Fine. Do you have any idea why I’m here?”
I looked at him carefully. He didn’t seem insane to me, though I’d been wrong about those sorts of things before. How could you tell if an android was insane, anyway? He could have been hiding from Granger Holdings, but the most likely reason Granger Holdings was out to get him in the first place was because his own erratic behavior had allowed the company’s value to plummet. That left the conclusion I’d come to after mulling it over for a few weeks.
“I don’t know why an android would be interested in a woman like Ginger,” I said. “I don’t know why an android would be interested in
He said nothing for a while, intense eyes boring into me, studying me the way a scientist might examine a specimen under a microscope.
“You’re a perceptive man, Duff,” he said finally.
“No, I just learn from experience. I fell for her once too, you know.”
He nodded. “She has a special kind of charm. Everything you said is correct, though I am not here because I am heartbroken.”
“No?”
“Of course not. I am here because I became convinced shortly after the wedding that Ginger intended to kill me.”
It was a possibility I hadn’t considered. “Why would she do that? You’re her ticket to riches and fame.”
“No, Vergon Enterprises is her ticket to riches and fame. Besides, that’s not what she wants. It’s power.”
“I don’t see why that would make a…” I began, and then I did see it. Vergon Daughn may have made Ginger rich, but Vergon Enterprises could make her rich and powerful. The problem was Vergon himself.
“Exactly. Of course, it would have been easier if I remained an android since so few planets grant us the same rights as biosen. She could have deactivated me any number of ways. When I became human, it made her job more difficult, which gave me just enough time to escape.”
I shook my head. As well as I’d known Ginger, I should have seen that angle long before now. “I feel like an idiot,” he said.
“Don’t feel bad,” Vergon said. “Ironically, I didn’t recognize this possibility myself until I was a human. As an android, I kept giving her the benefit of the doubt, assuming that her unusual behaviors were due to the irrationality of her human emotions. But once I myself had human emotions, I could see that she herself lacked them—or at least any beyond greed and desire.”
“I should never have come here,” I said.
“No, you shouldn’t have. It’s quite likely you were followed.”
I thought of the android who’d tailed me weeks earlier. From time to time, I’d had that feeling again that I was being followed, though I’d never seen him. “So you don’t really think Granger Holdings is after you?”
“No, I do,” he said. “That’s what complicates matters. I came here until I could figure out a way to divorce her, but my absence left an opening for Granger to move in. Now I’m in a predicament. I honestly came here to protect the more than one million people who work for me. But whether my wife gets control of the company or Granger, those employees get hurt either way.”
My wife. I felt an odd pang of jealousy and I didn’t know why. It was just a job, of course, one that paid better than any job I’d had before, but no matter how well a job paid, I never set out to hurt an innocent person if I could help it. Was Vergon Daughn innocent? Was
“I’ll do whatever I can to help,” I said.
He looked at me. “I’m going to speak to her. Perhaps an understanding can be reached. I have to assume there’s at least a shred of decency in her.”
“All right,” I said, skeptical.
“But I’m still concerned she’s going to try to kill me. Will you come with me?”
“Of course.”
With that, he pulled out a com-com and called for a pod to pick us up off the mountain. Twenty minutes later, we were on our way to the spaceport. Asif watched us lift off, his face as stoic and remorseless as when I’d first met him.
We figured the stepdocks would be more heavily watched than the spaceports, so the plan was to leave the planet by ship. At my suggestion, Vergon bought an evening ticket at the spaceport closest to Nelsani, and then we landed the pod and rode a bakak-pulled buggy three hours to a much larger spaceport. The concourse was crowded and noisy, packed with every life form imaginable, and we hung out in the bar until a few minutes before the flight to Palfacia Prime was scheduled to leave.
Then Vergon bought us two tickets and we hurried to the security lines, ending up behind a couple of hairy and stinky Srendians. It was like standing behind a blue carpet that had been soaked in formaldehyde.
He looked at me. “You were in love with her?”
“Yeah.”
“Why didn’t you marry her?”
I shrugged. “I would have, but she ran out on me. I guess I wasn’t rich enough or powerful enough for her.”
“You were fortunate then.”
I laughed, though he reacted in surprise, as if he hadn’t meant it as a joke.
“There’s one thing I don’t understand,” I said. “Bwer-Fwer said there was a problem with the transfer process. Do you know what happened there? He was worried your mind got scrambled, but you seem fine.”
We got to the front of the line and he hand-printed the ticket-checker. Androids didn’t have fingerprints like humans, but they did have unique digital signatures; the machine beeped and said his name, his flight time, and his departure gate. An older human couple ahead of us craned their heads around. So it’d begun: He’d been recognized, and I’d only feel better once we were airborne. His flight and identity verified, Vergon was about to step through the security tunnel. He looked at me, dropping his voice to a whisper.
“The only problem that I know of—” he began.
But I never learned what the problem was. There was an electric shriek and the center of Vergon’s chest exploded in flames.
He crumpled over, and a blue wave of fire enveloped his body, eating it up, turning it into nothing but dust. It was a plasma bolt—there was no way to stop it from completely disintegrating him. People screamed and stampeded. My shock lasted only an instant, and then I turned and saw the attacker fleeing—the blond android who’d pursued me earlier, dressed in the orange and red flowery garb of the local monks.
I took off after him. He was much faster, but he made the mistake of glancing over his shoulder at me. In the meantime, a sweeperbot rolled into his path and he tripped. I was on him in a second, my laser pistol jammed up into his chin. His eyes remained passive; he might have been watching a food processor churning out cheese.
“Tell me who you’re working for!” I cried.
Beneath my legs, his chest felt warm and getting warmer. He closed his eyes, and I realized what was happening, rolling off of him just before his body exploded.
I woke up in the spaceport’s infirmary, two shiny medical robots tending to my wounds and a dozen green-uniformed police waiting in the wings. I had a few nasty cuts on my face and arms, and a minor concussion, but otherwise I’d been lucky. It was nearly four hours before I was able to convince the police I had nothing to do with Vergon’s death, and then they were gracious enough to let me out a back door so I could avoid the hordes of media gathered outside.
I left the spaceport and walked under a blazing sun to a little hole-in-the-wall diner, sequestering myself in the com-com unit at the back. It smelled like piss and smoke inside, and even through the glass door I could hear the wince-inducing Nelsani harp music playing from the diner’s speakers.
Ginger answered my page within ten seconds. She was in the back of a plush pod, the seats dark leather, and her silver glittering outfit looked like it was made of diamonds. The camera was angling from a low viewpoint, giving her three breasts the appearance of an imposing mountain range.
“You killed him,” I said.
She looked puzzled. “Whatever are you talking about, dear? Did you find Vergon?”
“Don’t lie to me, Ginger. I’m sure you’ve seen the news by now.”
At my saying this, she turned to her right and punched something out of my view. She said nothing for a moment, then sighed.
“How sad,” she said, and she didn’t sound sad at all. “He meant everything to me.”
“Like hell he did. You killed him.”
“That’s quite an accusation, Duff. You have some proof of this?”
“I’ll get some.”
She smiled primly. “Oh, I don’t think so. You can’t prove something that isn’t true.”
“Ginger—”
“Now if you’ll excuse me,” she said, “I’ve got a company to save from takeover. And with me in charge, you better believe things are looking up for Vergon Enterprises.” She looked at me levelly. “Because I’ll do whatever it takes to get to the top. You know that, Duff, don’t you?”
“Damn it, Ginger—”
“In fact, I always like being on top.” Her smile turned coy. “Maybe you should come visit me and I’ll show you exactly what I mean. I guarantee that by tomorrow we’ll see eye for an eye on this.”
“It’s eye
I was shaking, and I wanted to smash something. Ginger had won. That wasn’t even the worst part. The worst part was that for just an instant, a tiny flicker of a moment, I’d actually thought about taking her up on her offer. It made me feel lousier than I’d felt in my entire life.
It was only then that I realized why I’d taken the case at all. Crazy as it was, I’d secretly been hoping I could win her back.
Returning to Versatia, I threw myself into my work checking the hotel security, hoping it would help put the whole mess with Ginger out of my mind. It didn’t. I found myself following what was happening with Vergon Enterprises and Granger Holdings with great interest, secretly praying that Granger would put Ginger out on her ass. Granger might still put thousands out of work, but at least Ginger wouldn’t gain from it.
I’d always been of the atheist persuasion—I’d seen too much to believe in any sort of almighty god—but what happened next was enough to challenge my conviction.
More amazingly, Granger didn’t break up Vergon Enterprises. They
That’s when I figured out what had really happened.
The rain fell in torrents, slicing into the thick Nelsani jungle. I stepped into the hut and lowered my hood. Despite the weather, the little shop was bustling, the aisles full of customers browsing the gear. I found Asif at the counter, handing a box of shoes to a hairy Srendian and her hairy child. I waited until they shuffled away.
“Busy day,” I said.
He turned in my direction, smiling the plastic salesman’s smile, but when he recognized me it faded.
“You,” he said. “I’m surprised to see you here again.”
“Really?” I said. “I guess you don’t think very highly of me then.”
“I’m sorry?”
“I mean, if you thought more highly of me, then you might fear I’d figure out your little secret… Vergon.”
To his credit, he didn’t even blink. But then, that only confirmed my suspicion. We stared at each other in the crowded room, the murmur of customers all around us. The rain crackled on the roof. I’d deliberately spoken softly enough that the customers perusing the gravboards over in the corner wouldn’t hear me.
I stepped forward so we were even closer, dropping my voice to a whisper. “Don’t insult me by denying it,” I said.
He said nothing for a long time, then nodded. “How did you know?”
“A couple things,” I said. “Your name, first of all. Asif Phoenix? As in, the phoenix that rises from its own ashes? It was a little too cute.”
“Right.”
“And then there was how you didn’t even break a sweat scaling the mountain.”
“Of course. I should have been more careful and installed sweat glands.”
“It was pretty clever,” I said. “I never would have put it together except how things went down with Granger Holdings and Vergon Enterprises. When I realized it was exactly the way you would have
“No,” he said. “There was only one Vergon Daughn and he died. It had to be that way for my plan to work. I am Asif Phoenix. That is my identity.”
“But you have Vergon’s memories?”
“Yes. For all intents and purposes, I
“A person who happens to covertly control an ownership stake in Granger Holdings?”
“Yes.”
I nodded, amazed at the brilliance and audacity of his plan. Once he’d realized that Ginger would kill him to get what she wanted, he knew that the only way to stop her was to actually die and then have another company take over and force her out. She would have gotten at least half of his net worth in a divorce, which would have probably destroyed Vergon Enterprises in the process.
“Why not bump her off yourself?” I asked. “That would have been a lot easier.”
“Easier, yes,” he said. “But I’m not that kind of android, and despite what Ginger is, I am still concerned for her welfare. It’s why I left her with some money. I could have easily left her broke and heavily in debt. I didn’t want to hurt her. I just wanted to prevent her from hurting others.”
“Sounds like love to me.”
“Call it what you will.”
He reached behind the counter and brought up a handheld, punching a few buttons on the tiny black keyboard. “So how much do you want?”
“Excuse me?” I said.
“I assume you want me to pay you for your silence.”
“Oh no, I didn’t come for that. I just came to satisfy my curiosity. And to say well done. Your secret is safe with me.”
He nodded. “Thank you. I will always be in your debt.”
“Only one thing I don’t understand.”
“Yes?”
“Why didn’t you stay human? You could have transferred your essence into another human rather than an android. Did you decide that you liked being an android better than being a human?”
“No, that wasn’t it. In fact, despite what I said to the media, I quite liked being a human. And I see nothing wrong with an android who decides to become one. Or vice versa.”
“Then why?”
He looked thoughtful, and I wondered how much of it was in the look and how much was in the thought. After all, that android brain of his was a million times faster than mine, and any answer he’d thought of would have taken a nanosecond. The rest was just for show. Or was it? Maybe there were some things you could wrestle with for one second or for a million and it wouldn’t make a difference.
“I’m not sure I could adequately explain my decision,” he said.
“Try me.”
“Well, perhaps it would be best if I just summed it up with a simple colloquial expression… Ignorance is bliss.”
One of the customers looking at the gravboards wandered over, asking for help, so he didn’t get a chance to explain. That was okay. He didn’t need to. Androids, after all, couldn’t feel anything. They couldn’t feel the enormous pain of being hurt by someone they loved. In that sense, I envied him. He could say that he’d loved Ginger once but the memory of it no longer stung.
And if I wasn’t so squeamish about trying to separate the essence of me from my human body, I might have asked him if he could make me an android too.