Self Made Page 11

  Chapter Eleven

  Dex didn’t have time to go shopping for a new tie, let alone a new suit. It had been a while since he’d been hoodwinked into taking someone to dinner and his good tie was, he realized now, hideously ugly. He put it on anyway and changed his view so that he could get a good look at his avatar. The suit his avatar always wore was fine and he’d always been fond of the hat. But the tie — what had he ever been thinking? Bright red and shiny against his charcoal suit. Ugh. It wasn’t that ugly, he told himself, so long as you just closed your eyes and didn’t look at it. Whatever. It was only Annabelle and it was under duress. Maybe she’d take the tie as a hint.

  By now Dex was physically back at his apartment and he took a minute to unfocus from Marionette City and make his body comfortable. He changed clothes, used the lav and poured the last of the Jamaica’s Best into a tumbler. He hadn’t had time to get another bottle, so he would have to drink the virtual crap. At least he could get a glass of the real stuff in now.

  He settled into his comfortable chair and went back online. At least the restaurant Annabelle had picked wasn’t one of those million dollar places that would cost Dex a week’s pay. He linked over a minute or two early and got to the table first. He flipped through the menu and tried to remember the last time he’d even been to a restaurant. He just didn’t understand the point of tasting food but not getting full. Still, if Annabelle had anything useful for him, it would be worth it. So long as he didn’t think about the tie.

  Annabelle arrived precisely on time and she had definitely put more effort into this than Dex had. She had done something to her chin length hair, made it all pouffy and sparkly and she wore a dress. Dex didn’t think he’d ever seen her in dress before — he always thought she was strictly a utilitarian dresser. But this night she had on some kind of semi transparent thing with a slight purple glow to it. Underneath she wore a couple of tiny bands of strategically placed purple fabric. Shit. This could get complicated.

  “Hey, Dex,” she said as she sat down across from him. “Looking good.” Dex rolled his eyes and cursed his tie.

  “Yeah,” he answered, “you, too.” They each looked at the menu and placed their orders with the table’s service screen. Their glasses filled immediately and Dex took a long swallow of the fake dark and stormy. It wasn’t that bad after all. “So, got anything for me?” he asked. Annabelle arched an eyebrow, grinning and he hastened to add, “From the code you took earlier.”

  Her smile faltered and she said, “Yeah, the code. Well, there’s good news and bad news. The good news is that I’m ninety nine percent sure that we don’t have a a multi-hating serial killer on our hands. The code that got your vic was specifically non-replicating. It was made for him and him alone.”

  “Well, that’s good to know,” Dex said, beginning to compose a message to Jay Shiraishi while they talked. “And the bad news?”

  “Bad news is that’s all I know,” Annabelle looked away from his gaze. “There’s nothing there to identify where it came from. The code itself is just stand-alone malware — there’s nothing that identifies it at all. And the bot was very carefully made, not tied to another system, at least not that I can see.” She caught his eyes and looked away again. “I mean, there has to be a real system running the damn thing, but I just can’t get back to it. They did a good job Dex. It was the real deal.”

  “Strange,” he said, thinking. “From what I’ve heard, Reuben was the best in the business for that sort of thing. And it seems unlikely that he killed himself, since Ivy is the one who hired me. Besides, he... or she would have had so many easier ways to do it. What would be the point?”

  “Beats me,” Annabelle said. At that moment, the first course arrived. Dex could smell Annabelle’s escargot and it just made him hungry. He picked a piece of what was supposed to be some kind of smoked fish out of his salad and tasted it. The flavour in his mouth was strong, but it just wasn’t the same as eating. He’d have been happier with a food brick, but Annabelle seemed to be enjoying herself.

  “So,” Dex said, when the table had appeared to swallow their empty appetizer plates, “you do this sort of thing often?”

  “Eating?” Annabelle asked, looking confused.

  “Yeah,” Dex said, leaning back a bit. “You know, going to restaurants, blackmailing people into coming with you; the whole dating thing.”

  “Ah,” she said. “I guess. I mean, I’ve been out a few times — it’s something to do. Everyone does, right? We’re all looking for that someone.”

  “I don’t know if we all do,” Dex said, “and I don’t think there is a someone.”

  “Sure there is,” she smiled at him and leaned in. “There’s someone out there for everyone — even if you need a pickaxe, a compass, and night goggles to find them.” She laughed and Dex found himself grinning in spite of himself.

  “Maybe for you,” he said, “but some of us are just better off alone.” At that moment, their meals arrived and they spent a few awkward moments with the food. When the table cleared their plates. Dex began, “Look, I’m sorry...”

  “Don’t be,” Annabelle interrupted him, “I’m not looking for a lifetime here. Why don’t we just have a night together — I’m free, you’re free. Nothing intimate, just sex.”

  “Just sex?”

  “You know,” she said, laughing, “enjoyable act between two creatures in a species in response to biological and neurological stimuli?”

  “Yeah,” Dex said, smiling sadly. “I know what it is. I just... well, it’s not you, I just...”

  “What?” she said, softly.

  “I, ah,” Dex tried to fond a delicate way to put his thoughts. “I have a different preference.”

  “Oh,” she said, eyebrows lifting. “That doesn’t have to be a problem. I’m no prude.” Her body shimmered slightly and then turned slowly and surprisingly seamlessly into someone else. Her hair shortened to an above the ear short cut, the dress condensed into a pair of fitted trousers and a t-shirt and the underneath bands changed as well. The top band disappeared entirely, revealing a very solid set of male pectoral muscles and the bottom bands formed into underpants sporting a substantial and prominent package. “Do you like this better?”

  Dex had nothing to say and Annabelle said, “I don’t mind dressing up occasionally. Whatever works for you.”

  “No,” he finally got out, “that’s exactly the problem. I don’t enjoy any of this.”

  “You don’t like sex?”

  “Not like this,” he said, gesturing around them. “If there isn’t touching, real body touching, I just... I just don’t like it.” Dex felt his face get hot and wondered if he could get away with just linking out of the restaurant. Instead, they sat together in silence for a moment. “It’s not you,” he said, finally. “You’re... great. Either way. If I met you on the train or something, well, who knows, right? But...”

  “It’s okay,” she said, the avatar standing up, shimmering and turning back to Annabelle, the girl. “If it doesn’t work, it doesn’t work,” she said, a little sadly but with genuine feeling, “I do understand.” Dex stood and walked toward her. He kissed her lightly on the cheek and she smiled. “Thanks,” she said. “It might not do anything for you, but that was nice for me.”

  “Thanks for your help on the case,” he said, then immediately hated himself for sounding like such a heel. Annabelle smiled, though.

  “Anytime,” she said. “You know if you ever change your mind...”

  “If I do, you’ll be the first one I call,” he said, smiling. He waited for her to link out of the restaurant, then checked to make sure she was offline before he linked over to Monte’s.

  • • •

  “Why the long face?” the bartender said and Dex knew better than to search the bot’s face for any hint of humour. There wasn’t any.

  “It’s been a rough day,” Dex said, accepting the double dark and stormy with extra neural stims. He took a sip
and felt the strange rush of the false liquor hit his system.

  “You wanna talk about it?” the bartender asked, as it always did, as it was programmed to do.

  “No,” Dex said and the bar bot turned and walked down to the other end of the bar, unoffended. He took another sip of his drink and looked at his reflection in the mirror behind the bar. Not bad for a guy who didn’t give a damn, he thought, tie or no tie. He knew he didn’t see what Annabelle saw and wondered if he should have just gone with her. He probably could have faked it for an hour or two; it would have made her happy, if only for the moment. But he knew he couldn’t keep it up, the charade, pretending he felt something when he never did.

  It was bad enough sitting here, in this fake bar, drinking fake booze served by a fake bartender. Just because he wanted that feeling, the one you get sitting alone in a crowded room, somehow more solitary than if you really were alone. Though, of course, the funny reality of it all was that Dex was actually alone, in his apartment, staring off into space. There were just so many levels of deception in the modern world. He didn’t think he was cut out for it. This new world. Born too late, that’s what Maks used to say, they were a couple of guys who were just born at the wrong time in history.

  But Maks figured it out, somehow. How to fit in, make it all make some kind of sense. He’d figured it out, but never filled Dex in on the secret. He just walked out the door, out of Dex’s life and he’d taken the secret with him. Dex took a long pull on his drink and wondered, not for the first time, what Maks was doing now. He wondered if Maks ever thought of him, of the life they had lived back when they both believed that they could make a place where things could be different.

  Where things could be different. Dex fished in his pockets and found the card that Stella Bish had given him. Do you ever wish things could be different, she’d asked him. Only every second of every day. But there was no program that could make the world the way he wanted it to be. Annabelle’s time machine didn’t work that way. Still, maybe there was something... something she could do for him to dull the ache. Dull it more than the booze did.

  He pulled up his messenger and started to carefully compose a message. After half an hour, he had it ready and sent it off to Bish. Another dark and stormy went by, the bartender now offering sobering tablets along with the drinks. Dex passed, wanting to feel the sweet oblivion and the promised pain the next day. Feeling things — it took a lot in this world to make him feel things.

  He was debating on a third drink when his messenger pinged. Bish had a name for him. Uri Farone. He dealt in memories, making them better, making them the way they ought to be. There was no changing the past, but Farone knew how to make it seem as though the past were different. Dex figured that this was the closest he would ever get. He paged over to Farone’s board and looked at the satisfied customer testimonials and the various options available for purchase.

  It was impressive. According to his PR page, the deluxe package could completely erase the “wrong” memory and replace it with a better one. Of course, the usual caveats applied about not being responsible for any cognitive dissonance created by the process and paradoxes that arose as a result. Dex wondered — if he could fix it so that his memory of Maks was gone, would he be able to live in this world? He focussed back on the bar, its lights flashing, avatars dancing, drinking, fighting and fucking within its false walls. He swallowed the last of his drink and went offline.

  Blinking at the seemingly bright lights in his room, Dex stood and worked the kinks out of his body. He shucked off his sweaty clothes and stumbled to the lav. He turned on the shower full blast and found that he had to lean against the side of the tiny room as the water rushed over him. With a lurch, he doubled over and threw up under the shower. Once his stomach settled slightly, he turned off the water, let the blower dry him and the room, then padded out, naked, to fall into bed.