After my discussion with Darren, the people in the fortress moved around me as if on eggshells. Not that I was particularly incensed about that, mind you.
It gave me the time and peace to come to grips with my flaring rage again. I did not resume my work on the medical VI, as I lacked the mindset for that task at that time.
Instead, I mostly meditated, studied, and did little projects in cyberspace.
Oh, and playing. I quickly noticed the graphics and performance increasing by a large extend, and the number of maps to choose from grew exponentially. The VI confirmed immediately after my question that it not only polished the game up for jack usage but had begun building new maps for me.
Naturally, I kept watching the rats, and so far it looked extremely promising. I had of course randomized the rats for the test, but now, nearly two weeks later it had become pretty apparent which ones were implanted with the converted cyberware.
Exactly 50% of the rats showed first and second-stage CRS, while the other 50% were still completely CRS-free. I did not break protocol and looked up the distribution though. I was pretty sure that would make no difference, but why risk the results?
Mostly though I spent my time analyzing my emotions and trying to let go of some of the baggage. Not as successfully as I was suppressing it, by far. But even small steps were steps, I just had to make sure to go in the right direction.
Things began to look a bit brighter when a few days after New Year the first delivery of real food was announced.
I practically could already taste it, and I started selecting recipes for the ingredients. Naturally, I had inspected the appliances beforehand and had replaced almost everything. I was not leaving anything here to chance.
And while I practically could already taste the real food, I was informed that Mr. Walker had a small get-together to celebrate his recovery and my presence was expected. And yes, it was the day the food was going to be delivered. Perfect timing, as usual. Luckily I had all the perishable food vacuum-sealed and irradiated so that it was unlikely that they would spoil, but my mood took a definite downturn.
And so, on the day I really wanted to make my Boeuf Wellington, I was sitting in the skimmer accompanied by Justin and Ryan, looking forward to replicator-grub and a slew of people I did at best barely know, and of course, the presence of good old Dylan was all but guaranteed.
The silver streak was that Justin was back on his feet again, and other than the missing kidney was fully recovered. The Kidney would still take a couple of weeks.
When we approached the townhouse that apparently was Mr. Walker’s private residence, I opened up to my companions in the skimmer.
“Does either of you know of somebody who would likely buy this skimmer? They would have to rebuild it I think but it is still in decent condition.”
For a few moments, there was a shocked silence, before both men began talking simultaneously.
It was of course hard to understand them but the gist I could make out was that it was stupid to give up a fully working skimmer. And that it offered so much utility that I should keep it.
“Slow down, please. First, I don’t trust this skimmer fully. Yes, it works, but we can assume that it had no maintenance in the last 18 years. Before I trust it fully I would have to completely rebuild it, and at the moment I lack the expertise and definitely lack the intention.
So this skimmer will have to go. It can go to the scrapyard or to somebody who wants to rebuild it. Honestly, I don’t care.
Second, yes, I agree that a skimmer offers incredible utility. Especially here in NYC. That is the reason why we get a brand new, armored ABAS 675 in less than two weeks. The luxury skimmer will take a bit longer I fear.”
Again, shocked silence. Then Ryan warily answered me.
“A brand new skimmer? Are you… who the fuck can afford a brand new skimmer, and a big one at that. These things cost what? $20 million?”
“The one I bought was $25 million. And sorry if you missed it, but lack of funds is not quite one of my problems. I get more in interest than that.”
This time it was Justin who spoke.
“If you have that much money, why are you here? In Queens I mean. Why not Brooklyn or the Bronx? Or why New York at all?”
“Community. Would you want to live near the stuck-up execs or the old money idiots? No thank you, I prefer the company of honest criminals.”
“And why work at all? If you can afford a skimmer from the interest, why do anything other than sunbathing or playing in the pool in Florida or the Caribic?”
“Oh please. I would go insane within a week. Seriously, I study all the time because otherwise, I would crawl up the walls. I need something to engage my mind. And why not make money from things I will do anyway?”
Justin just shook his head.
“Well, at least your humor is still working.”
That confused me now, and I frowned tilting my head.
“What… why do you say that?”
“Well, the joke about the luxury skimmer, well, it was a bit flat, but a good attempt.”
Now it was my turn to shake my head. He had thought that I was joking?
“Not… quite. That was not a joke. The Mercedes T 240 will be ready in a couple of months.”
Ryan had a coughing fit, while Justin just groaned.
“You… bought a skimmer that cost nearly $90 million?”
“A bit more. I bought the fully tricked-out model. Armor, point defense, stealth coating, radar jammer for security, and every luxury they could cram into it.”
Justin facepalmed but remained silent, while Ryan gasped.
“You… what? That costs more than the whole fleet of the boss!”
The conversation stopped at this point as we had landed.
Seriously, why were they all so hung about the money? Sure, the average worker did earn about $76k a year. So what? I am not the average worker. And neither were Ryan or Justin. Yes, they were far away from my income streams, but please, that is not that rare an occurrence. Each of them could easily buy four or five workers and still have enough to live comfortably.
Not to mention that their costs of living had nosedived when they moved into the fortress. I paid for all the utilities there, not that the costs were even a blip in my accounts.
So yes, I was comfortable, at least in monetary terms. Now I just had to put my demons to rest.
The freezing temperatures made it necessary to walk quickly towards the entrance of the house, and we encountered a small line, as we were not the only ones trying to get out of the cold fast.
It was but a small impediment and soon we were inside. The house looked like a late 19th-century Victorian mansion, but even a cursory check made it obvious that it was built in this century. The triple armorglasstm windows alone were a dead giveaway here, as were the window sills. Any material engineer would immediately recognize the plascrete.
It was still a very elegant building, and it managed the illusion of age very well. As with Walker’s office, it screamed old money.
Real wood paneling if I was right, though some imitations had become so good that it was nearly impossible to identify real from fake.
The foyer was fitted out in dark wood tones, with a wood seeming stair going up to the upper floors.
We were guided towards the large drawing-room. Classical music came softly from hidden speakers. I must say, I liked the music so far.
I personally preferred May and Mercury to Richards or Lennon and McCartney, and of course, I also liked the dark age stuff like Bach or Vivaldi but generally, the classics were by far better than the crap that was written nowadays.
Surprisingly, or not, I actually knew a few of the people here.
Vincent was here, of course, and Dylan had to be here. Doc Schaeffer raised his glass greeting me. I also recognized Ms. Uesugi and Mr. Kraykowski. But the rest, a few I had met at the meeting, but I would have to dig for a bit to get their names again.
Nearly as soon as we entered the big room, Mr. Walker was notified of our arrival, and he quickly finished the conversation he was in and came to greet us. Or more likely me. I was, of course, anything but happy to be in the spotlight, but there was nothing I could do.
“Why, hello Kitten. Good to see you again. And thank you.”
Then he turned to the room.
“Ladies and Gentlemen, I have the honor to present you the guest of honor. Miss Veronica Sinclair, also known as Kitten to some of us. I have to confess, when she told me that she could give me a chance to survive my bout with CRS, I was skeptical.
I had, in all honesty, already accepted my demise. But I am happy that I decided to allow her to put her money where her mouth was.
She gave me a 60% chance of survival. And while I am not CRS free, the critical implant, my new heart has so far been completely ignored by it.
According to Doctor Schaeffer that in itself is already something of a miracle.
So let's give a round of applause for our Kitten here!”
I felt myself turn nearly as red as my hair during his speech and wanted nothing more than to crawl into the earth during the applause, but at this moment there was nothing much I could do.
I stammered a thank you but could not say much more.
Fortunately, while there was still some attention directed towards me, most guests began to take up their conversations again, and I was mercifully mostly left alone.
Walker placed an arm over my shoulders and softly directed me towards a group of people.
“I have to say, you certainly kept your promise. Honestly, thank you for my life.”
“That is… ok… I…” I took a deep breath and calmed myself down a bit.
“Alright, sorry. You are welcome. And I only promised you a chance. I am happy that it worked, but there was never a guarantee.”
“Oh, but the chance worked. I am alive, and only because of you, so take it with grace.”
I sighed.
“Ok. I accept it. Honestly, I hope you live a very long life. Not just for you, but to keep Mr. Cox from the keys of power.”
Walker chuckled.
“To be honest, that is only you. He has some prejudices towards Pures, and can’t put them aside. Otherwise, he is a bit unimaginative but a capable administrator.”
I nearly suppressed a growl.
“I can understand the prejudices. Seriously, I can’t stand most Pures myself. But that he can’t accept that I am not a typical Pure… that is what I can’ accept.
It is not so much his animosity, but the permanent accusations and the snark. If he were polite with it, then ok, it is his opinion. But so…”
He sighed.
“Yes, I can understand that. And I will do my best to keep him away from you.”
He then flagged a servant.
“Could you get a Coke for Kitten, please?”
I barely saw the servant nod before she vanished again.
“Now, let’s have a bit of a celebration. After all, you did produce something of a miracle.”
With a heavy heart, I sighed.
“Yes, ok.”
Suddenly I was standing in front of Vincent.
“Hello… Kitten.” I could hear his amusement. “We have certainly to thank you for keeping Ben up and running. Michael is a good man, and certainly smart enough, but he lacks the experience to take over yet.
Ben dying would have led to much chaos.”
“Yes, I agree that it probably could have caused chaos, but who is Michael?”
Vincent chuckled at that.
“Michael is Ben’s heir. He had a clone made 20 to 25 years ago. Honestly, we all do have a clone heir. The legacy has to live on.”
A… clone. Well, that was simultaneously good and bad.
“You all… use clones? Are the current bosses clones as well?”
He nodded.
“Yes, most of us are. It costs a fortune but as I said, the legacy must go on.”
Yes, I could understand that. A commercial clone, even at newborn age, did cost around Five million ITC, or, depending on the course between $18 and $25 million. And you had to pay in ITC or NorthWest Credits.
Panacea had created a monopoly here.
“And these new clones, are they clones of you, or the original?”
He chuckled again.
“I get where you are going. Most of us use a genetic randomizer to bring keep the gene pool fresh. Our clones are roughly 75% identical to us on the genetic level.”
Ok, that upped the price by at least 100% but was smart enough.
“And you pay for the extra screening?”
He tilted his head.
“Yes, of course, we pay for the executive service.”
Oh, drat. They walked straight into the trap. I could not keep my frown from my face, and Vincent became confused.
“Is something wrong?”
“Executive service is what Panacea calls their rainmaker process. Essentially they call it that, but it is identical with the basic service, but they only offer it to people too uninformed to know the difference. What you need is the special service.”
Now he frowned.
“What do you mean? The executive service costs nearly twice what the special service costs.”
“Yes, as I said, they use the basic service, pad it with some good sounding marketing gimmicks that cost next to nothing and use it to make people who don’t know it better pay three times what they would get otherwise and twice than what they actually want would cost.
It is a scam, plain and simple, but because it is Panacea, they get away with it. You should all get a genetic analysis done for yourself and your heir.”
Not that that would do any good now. But… just then I had an idea. The virus Frankel used to modify us… it maybe could be used to correct genetic errors.
We had to make sure to get it right the first time though. As I had found out, it was not possible to use the virus a second time. Otherwise, I would already have corrected Frankel’s meddling with our genetic code.
At the same time, I saw anger flash over Vincent's face.
“You are saying that… these assholes… and we… damn it. And if there is a copy error now it is too late.”
I had to shake my head.
“First, you should never just trust anybody. Not Panacea, and also not me. You don’t really know me, and I could play you. I don’t, but at the moment you have no way to be sure of it.
Second, the big problem is that even if I am right, and I am, it does not mean that there are errors. So even if you don’t find anything, you can’t be sure if I am right or not. Sorry for that by the way.
On the other hand, if you find errors, you know that I spoke the truth, but you also know that your heir has some genetic problems.
Third, I might have stumbled over something that may be able to help. And no, I did not develop it. Frankel had a combination of gene-sequencer, nano-virus, and virus that can make changes to an already living person. He literally rewrote our genes, to enhance us. I can tell you I did not look like this when I arrived in New York.
I have not delved deeper into it, as I found out I can’t use it to reverse the changes he made. But as I said, it might help you.
You need a good geneticist, biologist, and a virologist to make it work I think, but it might save your family.”
He calmed down pretty fast, at least outwardly.
“And what will this… packet cost?”
Cost, what cost?
“Well, you need to have the nano-virus produced, and you need a good computer to hook up the gene-scanner to get the gene-sequencer up and running. For the virus, you will need a normal host to grow it but that is a rounding error in the calculation.
I don’t know what hardware you have available, or if you have a nanofab by now so I can’t say what you have to invest, sorry.”
He massaged his temples.
“No, I wanted to know what you want to give us the packet.”
“Hu? Why would I want anything? It is not my work, so you can have it.
If you want me to make the nano-virus, well, it is a relatively simple 4th gen schematic so it will be pretty cheap. It would probably be better if I re-engineered it into 10th gen, but that would cost a bit.
The gene-sequencer is also relatively simple. It just needs good enough hardware to run properly. You will need to look into it, but yes, if you want me to design and build the hardware, it will cost a bit, but why would you do that? You can get standard commercial-grade systems for a fraction, and while they will not be as fast as what I would build you, it would be more than good enough.
And sorry, but I can’t help you with the virus. You will need to get an expert for that.”
He sighed.
“So you say you will give us the tech without us paying for it? Just from the good of your heart?”
“As I said, it is not my tech. I honestly don’t need more money, but the price represents the respect for my work. So if it is not my tech I don’t care if you respect the creator. Considering that it is most probably a slaver, screw him. And you will pay me, just not in money, but in goodwill”
He shook his head but murmured for a bit.
“I believe I have hit my limit for the moment. I have to think about what you have told me. I wish you a nice day, but I think I have to talk to others for a bit. Good day.”
He tipped his imaginary hat, and moved away, while I looked after him, still a bit confused.
I was not left alone to ponder for long though.
Ms. Uesugi approached me from my left side.
“Hello, Miss Sinclair.”
“Oh, hello Ms. Uesugi.”
“You don’t look very amused.”
I sighed.
“You are right. I fear I ruined the party for Mr. Luciani.”
She tilted her head.
“In what way?”
“I think I gave him unwelcome information. And before you ask, I will not ruin the party for you as well. We can talk about it on another date if you want to. I can assure you it is in no way an urgent matter.”
She looked at me for a few silent seconds, before she shrugged.
“I assume that if the information is important that you will give it to me. Now, what I wanted to talk to you about, I have gotten information that somebody on the dark web offers CRS-free neural cyberware.
What do you think, is that legit?”
In the dark web? It actually had moved to the general dark web by now?
“Uh… yes. That was me. And I announced it in the Abyss that I was working on it.”
“You… and when were you going to tell me about it?”
I could hear the tension in her voice. She was obviously not amused.
“When I finished testing the new applicator in three days. And you are wrong in a way. I did not offer it yet, I announced that I was nearly ready to offer it.
It was… necessary. Unfortunately, a mega-corp got the information about the cyberware and decided that they were a much more worthy owner of that technology. They managed to sway an Abyss-dweller to help assault my home.
I had to prevent them from ever doing that again. Thus I told them that with a bit of patience I would be able to give them CRS-free cyberware. Now no jack will willingly aid them.”
Her expression did not soften but she nodded slowly.
“Ok, I can understand that. So you are telling me that despite what you said at the meeting you will be able to replace my cyberware in the next week?”
I nodded.
“Yes, most likely. At the moment I have not yet the result of the test, but exactly half of the rats I used for it have developed CRS, and the other half not. I can’t say with certainty that it is the converted cyberware that is free of CRS, as I had the test randomized so that I don’t involuntarily influence the results but considering that statistically by now 99.9% of all rats should show at least stage one CRS, it looks promising.”
Her face relaxed a bit.
“So you are not sure that it will work yet?”
“I am relatively sure, but scientific protocol demands that I make sure. You would not like it if it did not work.”
“But you said that you actually had developed CRS-free cyberware already.”
“Oh, the basic technology works fine. I have tested it to hell and back. What I am now testing is if the new application process works correctly.
It is a somewhat delicate technology, and an error in the assembly would be fatal. Literally in your case.”
I could see the understanding in her eyes.
“Ah, I understand. And yes, caution is the right approach here.”
I had in the meantime gotten my coke.
“Can I do anything else for you? Oh, and if you want to look at what I have to offer, I can give you substantially better technology than what I took out of your skull. I can send you the catalog.”
“Yes, do that. It will be interesting to see what you think is substantially better.”
With that, she turned around and walked away. I massaged the bridge of my nose and sighed.
After my discussion with Darren, the people in the fortress moved around me as if on eggshells. Not that I was particularly incensed about that, mind you.
It gave me the time and peace to come to grips with my flaring rage again. I did not resume my work on the medical VI, as I lacked the mindset for that task at that time.
Instead, I mostly meditated, studied, and did little projects in cyberspace.
Oh, and playing. I quickly noticed the graphics and performance increasing by a large extend, and the number of maps to choose from grew exponentially. The VI confirmed immediately after my question that it not only polished the game up for jack usage but had begun building new maps for me.
Naturally, I kept watching the rats, and so far it looked extremely promising. I had of course randomized the rats for the test, but now, nearly two weeks later it had become pretty apparent which ones were implanted with the converted cyberware.
Exactly 50% of the rats showed first and second-stage CRS, while the other 50% were still completely CRS-free. I did not break protocol and looked up the distribution though. I was pretty sure that would make no difference, but why risk the results?
Mostly though I spent my time analyzing my emotions and trying to let go of some of the baggage. Not as successfully as I was suppressing it, by far. But even small steps were steps, I just had to make sure to go in the right direction.
Things began to look a bit brighter when a few days after New Year the first delivery of real food was announced.
I practically could already taste it, and I started selecting recipes for the ingredients. Naturally, I had inspected the appliances beforehand and had replaced almost everything. I was not leaving anything here to chance.
And while I practically could already taste the real food, I was informed that Mr. Walker had a small get-together to celebrate his recovery and my presence was expected. And yes, it was the day the food was going to be delivered. Perfect timing, as usual. Luckily I had all the perishable food vacuum-sealed and irradiated so that it was unlikely that they would spoil, but my mood took a definite downturn.
And so, on the day I really wanted to make my Boeuf Wellington, I was sitting in the skimmer accompanied by Justin and Ryan, looking forward to replicator-grub and a slew of people I did at best barely know, and of course, the presence of good old Dylan was all but guaranteed.
The silver streak was that Justin was back on his feet again, and other than the missing kidney was fully recovered. The Kidney would still take a couple of weeks.
When we approached the townhouse that apparently was Mr. Walker’s private residence, I opened up to my companions in the skimmer.
“Does either of you know of somebody who would likely buy this skimmer? They would have to rebuild it I think but it is still in decent condition.”
For a few moments, there was a shocked silence, before both men began talking simultaneously.
It was of course hard to understand them but the gist I could make out was that it was stupid to give up a fully working skimmer. And that it offered so much utility that I should keep it.
“Slow down, please. First, I don’t trust this skimmer fully. Yes, it works, but we can assume that it had no maintenance in the last 18 years. Before I trust it fully I would have to completely rebuild it, and at the moment I lack the expertise and definitely lack the intention.
So this skimmer will have to go. It can go to the scrapyard or to somebody who wants to rebuild it. Honestly, I don’t care.
Second, yes, I agree that a skimmer offers incredible utility. Especially here in NYC. That is the reason why we get a brand new, armored ABAS 675 in less than two weeks. The luxury skimmer will take a bit longer I fear.”
Again, shocked silence. Then Ryan warily answered me.
“A brand new skimmer? Are you… who the fuck can afford a brand new skimmer, and a big one at that. These things cost what? $20 million?”
“The one I bought was $25 million. And sorry if you missed it, but lack of funds is not quite one of my problems. I get more in interest than that.”
This time it was Justin who spoke.
“If you have that much money, why are you here? In Queens I mean. Why not Brooklyn or the Bronx? Or why New York at all?”
“Community. Would you want to live near the stuck-up execs or the old money idiots? No thank you, I prefer the company of honest criminals.”
“And why work at all? If you can afford a skimmer from the interest, why do anything other than sunbathing or playing in the pool in Florida or the Caribic?”
“Oh please. I would go insane within a week. Seriously, I study all the time because otherwise, I would crawl up the walls. I need something to engage my mind. And why not make money from things I will do anyway?”
Justin just shook his head.
“Well, at least your humor is still working.”
That confused me now, and I frowned tilting my head.
“What… why do you say that?”
“Well, the joke about the luxury skimmer, well, it was a bit flat, but a good attempt.”
Now it was my turn to shake my head. He had thought that I was joking?
“Not… quite. That was not a joke. The Mercedes T 240 will be ready in a couple of months.”
Ryan had a coughing fit, while Justin just groaned.
“You… bought a skimmer that cost nearly $90 million?”
“A bit more. I bought the fully tricked-out model. Armor, point defense, stealth coating, radar jammer for security, and every luxury they could cram into it.”
Justin facepalmed but remained silent, while Ryan gasped.
“You… what? That costs more than the whole fleet of the boss!”
The conversation stopped at this point as we had landed.
Seriously, why were they all so hung about the money? Sure, the average worker did earn about $76k a year. So what? I am not the average worker. And neither were Ryan or Justin. Yes, they were far away from my income streams, but please, that is not that rare an occurrence. Each of them could easily buy four or five workers and still have enough to live comfortably.
Not to mention that their costs of living had nosedived when they moved into the fortress. I paid for all the utilities there, not that the costs were even a blip in my accounts.
So yes, I was comfortable, at least in monetary terms. Now I just had to put my demons to rest.
The freezing temperatures made it necessary to walk quickly towards the entrance of the house, and we encountered a small line, as we were not the only ones trying to get out of the cold fast.
It was but a small impediment and soon we were inside. The house looked like a late 19th-century Victorian mansion, but even a cursory check made it obvious that it was built in this century. The triple armorglasstm windows alone were a dead giveaway here, as were the window sills. Any material engineer would immediately recognize the plascrete.
It was still a very elegant building, and it managed the illusion of age very well. As with Walker’s office, it screamed old money.
Real wood paneling if I was right, though some imitations had become so good that it was nearly impossible to identify real from fake.
The foyer was fitted out in dark wood tones, with a wood seeming stair going up to the upper floors.
We were guided towards the large drawing-room. Classical music came softly from hidden speakers. I must say, I liked the music so far.
I personally preferred May and Mercury to Richards or Lennon and McCartney, and of course, I also liked the dark age stuff like Bach or Vivaldi but generally, the classics were by far better than the crap that was written nowadays.
Surprisingly, or not, I actually knew a few of the people here.
Vincent was here, of course, and Dylan had to be here. Doc Schaeffer raised his glass greeting me. I also recognized Ms. Uesugi and Mr. Kraykowski. But the rest, a few I had met at the meeting, but I would have to dig for a bit to get their names again.
Nearly as soon as we entered the big room, Mr. Walker was notified of our arrival, and he quickly finished the conversation he was in and came to greet us. Or more likely me. I was, of course, anything but happy to be in the spotlight, but there was nothing I could do.
“Why, hello Kitten. Good to see you again. And thank you.”
Then he turned to the room.
“Ladies and Gentlemen, I have the honor to present you the guest of honor. Miss Veronica Sinclair, also known as Kitten to some of us. I have to confess, when she told me that she could give me a chance to survive my bout with CRS, I was skeptical.
I had, in all honesty, already accepted my demise. But I am happy that I decided to allow her to put her money where her mouth was.
She gave me a 60% chance of survival. And while I am not CRS free, the critical implant, my new heart has so far been completely ignored by it.
According to Doctor Schaeffer that in itself is already something of a miracle.
So let's give a round of applause for our Kitten here!”
I felt myself turn nearly as red as my hair during his speech and wanted nothing more than to crawl into the earth during the applause, but at this moment there was nothing much I could do.
I stammered a thank you but could not say much more.
Fortunately, while there was still some attention directed towards me, most guests began to take up their conversations again, and I was mercifully mostly left alone.
Walker placed an arm over my shoulders and softly directed me towards a group of people.
“I have to say, you certainly kept your promise. Honestly, thank you for my life.”
“That is… ok… I…” I took a deep breath and calmed myself down a bit.
“Alright, sorry. You are welcome. And I only promised you a chance. I am happy that it worked, but there was never a guarantee.”
“Oh, but the chance worked. I am alive, and only because of you, so take it with grace.”
I sighed.
“Ok. I accept it. Honestly, I hope you live a very long life. Not just for you, but to keep Mr. Cox from the keys of power.”
Walker chuckled.
“To be honest, that is only you. He has some prejudices towards Pures, and can’t put them aside. Otherwise, he is a bit unimaginative but a capable administrator.”
I nearly suppressed a growl.
“I can understand the prejudices. Seriously, I can’t stand most Pures myself. But that he can’t accept that I am not a typical Pure… that is what I can’ accept.
It is not so much his animosity, but the permanent accusations and the snark. If he were polite with it, then ok, it is his opinion. But so…”
He sighed.
“Yes, I can understand that. And I will do my best to keep him away from you.”
He then flagged a servant.
“Could you get a Coke for Kitten, please?”
I barely saw the servant nod before she vanished again.
“Now, let’s have a bit of a celebration. After all, you did produce something of a miracle.”
With a heavy heart, I sighed.
“Yes, ok.”
Suddenly I was standing in front of Vincent.
“Hello… Kitten.” I could hear his amusement. “We have certainly to thank you for keeping Ben up and running. Michael is a good man, and certainly smart enough, but he lacks the experience to take over yet.
Ben dying would have led to much chaos.”
“Yes, I agree that it probably could have caused chaos, but who is Michael?”
Vincent chuckled at that.
“Michael is Ben’s heir. He had a clone made 20 to 25 years ago. Honestly, we all do have a clone heir. The legacy has to live on.”
A… clone. Well, that was simultaneously good and bad.
“You all… use clones? Are the current bosses clones as well?”
He nodded.
“Yes, most of us are. It costs a fortune but as I said, the legacy must go on.”
Yes, I could understand that. A commercial clone, even at newborn age, did cost around Five million ITC, or, depending on the course between $18 and $25 million. And you had to pay in ITC or NorthWest Credits.
Panacea had created a monopoly here.
“And these new clones, are they clones of you, or the original?”
He chuckled again.
“I get where you are going. Most of us use a genetic randomizer to bring keep the gene pool fresh. Our clones are roughly 75% identical to us on the genetic level.”
Ok, that upped the price by at least 100% but was smart enough.
“And you pay for the extra screening?”
He tilted his head.
“Yes, of course, we pay for the executive service.”
Oh, drat. They walked straight into the trap. I could not keep my frown from my face, and Vincent became confused.
“Is something wrong?”
“Executive service is what Panacea calls their rainmaker process. Essentially they call it that, but it is identical with the basic service, but they only offer it to people too uninformed to know the difference. What you need is the special service.”
Now he frowned.
“What do you mean? The executive service costs nearly twice what the special service costs.”
“Yes, as I said, they use the basic service, pad it with some good sounding marketing gimmicks that cost next to nothing and use it to make people who don’t know it better pay three times what they would get otherwise and twice than what they actually want would cost.
It is a scam, plain and simple, but because it is Panacea, they get away with it. You should all get a genetic analysis done for yourself and your heir.”
Not that that would do any good now. But… just then I had an idea. The virus Frankel used to modify us… it maybe could be used to correct genetic errors.
We had to make sure to get it right the first time though. As I had found out, it was not possible to use the virus a second time. Otherwise, I would already have corrected Frankel’s meddling with our genetic code.
At the same time, I saw anger flash over Vincent's face.
“You are saying that… these assholes… and we… damn it. And if there is a copy error now it is too late.”
I had to shake my head.
“First, you should never just trust anybody. Not Panacea, and also not me. You don’t really know me, and I could play you. I don’t, but at the moment you have no way to be sure of it.
Second, the big problem is that even if I am right, and I am, it does not mean that there are errors. So even if you don’t find anything, you can’t be sure if I am right or not. Sorry for that by the way.
On the other hand, if you find errors, you know that I spoke the truth, but you also know that your heir has some genetic problems.
Third, I might have stumbled over something that may be able to help. And no, I did not develop it. Frankel had a combination of gene-sequencer, nano-virus, and virus that can make changes to an already living person. He literally rewrote our genes, to enhance us. I can tell you I did not look like this when I arrived in New York.
I have not delved deeper into it, as I found out I can’t use it to reverse the changes he made. But as I said, it might help you.
You need a good geneticist, biologist, and a virologist to make it work I think, but it might save your family.”
He calmed down pretty fast, at least outwardly.
“And what will this… packet cost?”
Cost, what cost?
“Well, you need to have the nano-virus produced, and you need a good computer to hook up the gene-scanner to get the gene-sequencer up and running. For the virus, you will need a normal host to grow it but that is a rounding error in the calculation.
I don’t know what hardware you have available, or if you have a nanofab by now so I can’t say what you have to invest, sorry.”
He massaged his temples.
“No, I wanted to know what you want to give us the packet.”
“Hu? Why would I want anything? It is not my work, so you can have it.
If you want me to make the nano-virus, well, it is a relatively simple 4th gen schematic so it will be pretty cheap. It would probably be better if I re-engineered it into 10th gen, but that would cost a bit.
The gene-sequencer is also relatively simple. It just needs good enough hardware to run properly. You will need to look into it, but yes, if you want me to design and build the hardware, it will cost a bit, but why would you do that? You can get standard commercial-grade systems for a fraction, and while they will not be as fast as what I would build you, it would be more than good enough.
And sorry, but I can’t help you with the virus. You will need to get an expert for that.”
He sighed.
“So you say you will give us the tech without us paying for it? Just from the good of your heart?”
“As I said, it is not my tech. I honestly don’t need more money, but the price represents the respect for my work. So if it is not my tech I don’t care if you respect the creator. Considering that it is most probably a slaver, screw him. And you will pay me, just not in money, but in goodwill”
He shook his head but murmured for a bit.
“I believe I have hit my limit for the moment. I have to think about what you have told me. I wish you a nice day, but I think I have to talk to others for a bit. Good day.”
He tipped his imaginary hat, and moved away, while I looked after him, still a bit confused.
I was not left alone to ponder for long though.
Ms. Uesugi approached me from my left side.
“Hello, Miss Sinclair.”
“Oh, hello Ms. Uesugi.”
“You don’t look very amused.”
I sighed.
“You are right. I fear I ruined the party for Mr. Luciani.”
She tilted her head.
“In what way?”
“I think I gave him unwelcome information. And before you ask, I will not ruin the party for you as well. We can talk about it on another date if you want to. I can assure you it is in no way an urgent matter.”
She looked at me for a few silent seconds, before she shrugged.
“I assume that if the information is important that you will give it to me. Now, what I wanted to talk to you about, I have gotten information that somebody on the dark web offers CRS-free neural cyberware.
What do you think, is that legit?”
In the dark web? It actually had moved to the general dark web by now?
“Uh… yes. That was me. And I announced it in the Abyss that I was working on it.”
“You… and when were you going to tell me about it?”
I could hear the tension in her voice. She was obviously not amused.
“When I finished testing the new applicator in three days. And you are wrong in a way. I did not offer it yet, I announced that I was nearly ready to offer it.
It was… necessary. Unfortunately, a mega-corp got the information about the cyberware and decided that they were a much more worthy owner of that technology. They managed to sway an Abyss-dweller to help assault my home.
I had to prevent them from ever doing that again. Thus I told them that with a bit of patience I would be able to give them CRS-free cyberware. Now no jack will willingly aid them.”
Her expression did not soften but she nodded slowly.
“Ok, I can understand that. So you are telling me that despite what you said at the meeting you will be able to replace my cyberware in the next week?”
I nodded.
“Yes, most likely. At the moment I have not yet the result of the test, but exactly half of the rats I used for it have developed CRS, and the other half not. I can’t say with certainty that it is the converted cyberware that is free of CRS, as I had the test randomized so that I don’t involuntarily influence the results but considering that statistically by now 99.9% of all rats should show at least stage one CRS, it looks promising.”
Her face relaxed a bit.
“So you are not sure that it will work yet?”
“I am relatively sure, but scientific protocol demands that I make sure. You would not like it if it did not work.”
“But you said that you actually had developed CRS-free cyberware already.”
“Oh, the basic technology works fine. I have tested it to hell and back. What I am now testing is if the new application process works correctly.
It is a somewhat delicate technology, and an error in the assembly would be fatal. Literally in your case.”
I could see the understanding in her eyes.
“Ah, I understand. And yes, caution is the right approach here.”
I had in the meantime gotten my coke.
“Can I do anything else for you? Oh, and if you want to look at what I have to offer, I can give you substantially better technology than what I took out of your skull. I can send you the catalog.”
“Yes, do that. It will be interesting to see what you think is substantially better.”
With that, she turned around and walked away. I massaged the bridge of my nose and sighed.
