But anyway, one of the nice things about an aReal was the escape from reality it offered. Let's say you were waiting at a bus stop, and this really annoying dude started chatting you up. You could watch porn, read science fiction, listen to metal, play a multiplayer shoot-em-up—all at the same time. You'd completely forget about the dude. You wouldn't even notice him. Unfortunately, you also gave him the perfect opportunity to rob you. (Note to self: do not watch porn and play video games when an annoying dude starts chatting me up at a bus stop, even if that bus stop is located in a public, high-traffic place.)
Some people had Implants in their brains so they didn't have to wear aReals. Only drug lords and similar types could afford fancy mind gadgetry like that, though I imagine having an aReal in your brain would be quite the trip.
If you were into that sort of thing.
With an aReal you could access the account information tied to the embedded Id staplegunned into your wrist. The thing automatically downloaded the unique codes of any nearby embedded Ids, allowing you to send someone a message, or money, or a video, or whatever the hell you wanted, with just a look. And that's what Isabella was doing now.
She made a few quick bobs of the head. "Three microcoins. That should be enough to tide you over until supper."
It wasn't much, but given how little money she had herself, it may as well have been a fortune.
As I said, sweet woman.
I let them go, then made my way deeper into the barrio without incident. My Dissuader look was working, even without the hat. Good.
I reached a building that was so clean and well-kept compared to the others that it was almost an intrusion. It was this sprawling, two story structure, with thick wooden columns beneath its portico, almost like a manor house. The outer walls were painted white, the window frames blue. Fresh paint, mind you. Not chipped or fading.
At the front door two muscular toughs stood guard with Uzis.
The home of Mito, my boss.
I lowered my collar, revealing my face, and I was escorted upstairs to Mito's sitting room.
He sat on the floor, revolving two Baoding exercise spheres in each palm with his fingers and thumbs. The spheres, slightly smaller than billiard balls, chimed quietly as they were rotated. I had tried the Baoding once, but the tendons in my wrist started to hurt after about twenty seconds. Seemed a great way to get carpal tunnel syndrome if you ask
ed me, but Mito here could rotate the spheres for hours on end.
He dressed in a simple gray robe. He was completely bald, and clean-shaven. Hell, even his eyebrows were shaved. He was about a hundred years old, but you couldn't tell it by looking at him. He'd bought enough rejuvenation procedures to make his face as smooth and white as a baby's bottom.
Most locals, when they first met him, thought he was some kind of tripped-out addict. What they didn't realize was that he was one of those who had an aReal implanted directly in his brain.
When his eyes focused on mine, that distant look went away completely, and his features hardened. His gaze dropped to my empty holster, and the spheres in both hands stopped rotating. His knuckles turned white—he must have been squeezing the spheres damn hard.
"You lost your gun," he said in English.
"Yeah. About that. I wanted to ask you if I could have another
one. You know, as a loan against future—"
"No."
"I got attacked from behind. Wasn't even on duty. No clients were harmed. The robber took everything I had. Took my gun, swiped my bank accounts. You keep up on the news right? The embedded Ids were compromised again. Guess I should have stayed home today. Anyway, Mito, you have to get me a gun. I—"
"No gun for you."
This wasn't going as planned. "Mito, listen—"
"No."
I glanced over my shoulder. The two armed escorts had remained, and were now edging closer to me from the entrance. "Look. It won't happen again. I—"
"You are correct. It will not happen again."
I frowned. I didn't like the sound of that. "Mito, what—"
"Clients do not like you," Mito
said.
"What do you mean, clients don't like me? I've always kept them safe, brought them to their destinations on time. Never had a client robbed. And never had a client who didn't tip me. So I'm
pretty sure you're wrong on that account."
Mito grinned, bearing his teeth. "
I
do not like you."
"Okay. I get you. No gun. I'll scrounge one on my own, somehow. But if you wouldn't mind, I could use a small advance. As I said, I was robbed. Some guy—"
"No advance."
I regarded him in disbelief. "You own me this much, Mito. How much money have I made for you?"
"A man is only as good as his gun," Mito said. "How he treats that gun, the care, the attention, shows me how he will live his life. If a man cannot protect his own gun, how can he be expected to protect his client? I have a rule: Lose your gun, and you're done."
Nice of him to tell me about this rule now, of all times.
Mito set the Baoding spheres down. "As of this moment, your services are terminated."
"Wait a second. You can't—"
He smiled, baring his teeth. "Get out of here, little white bread roll. Before I terminate more than just your services."
The armed escorts showed me to the door, none too gently.
* * *
I met Alejandro at the local dive that night. Holographic women danced on most of the tables. If you liked what you saw, for a smal
l fee you could meet the living-and-breathing version in a back room. The more upscale bars had the all-too-perfect Skin Musicians—also known as Pleasurers—available in the back. Don't think this place could afford the robots though.
"Wish I'd stayed home today," I said. "CryptoG. 'Your Data Security Is Our First Priority.' Right. Well, maybe if you didn't accept billions of government digicoins to bake backdoors into your software, you might actually live up to your slogan. The only people who benefit from those backdoors are the hackers. And the government, of course."
"Mito," Alejandro said, shaking his head. "
Caramba
. I never thought he would fire you." He finished applying the healing ointment to my scalp. Claimed it was the best available. I wasn't sure how much it helped, because I still had a raging headache.
I took a long sip of my Tijuana
cerveza
. "Doesn't matter."
"You going freelance again?" Alejandro said, wiping his hands on his duster. "You know you'll have to seek out clients from scratch. The ones you got through Mito? They're untouchable, if you know what I'm saying."
"I know." Mito would do some pretty nasty things to me if I tried to poach his clients. No, if I wanted Dissuader work, I'd have to post online. That was the only way, really, other than going door-to-door. Which flat-out didn't work, and was a good way to get shot, actually.
"You still want out of this country," Alejandro said. It was a statement, not a question.
"Yeah." I took another sip. "I'm done. I've had it with this place. What happened today only reinforced that. Getting robbed, then fired. I mean look where we live, Alejandro. Take a good, long look. This isn't a good country."
"Maybe the robbery was a sign from above, you know?" Alejandro said. "That you shouldn't be trying to leave."
"Don't give me that."
It was Alejandro's turn to take a long swallow
of beer, though he bypassed his glass and drank straight from the pitcher. Classy. "You know, despite all its flaws, the people are happy here. You could be too, if you just let go. Get a nice
mamacita
, a few kids. Maybe try a different line of work."
"That wouldn't make me happy, Alejandro. It would distract me, sure, make me forget about my unhappiness, but in the end I'd still want to leave."
"Rade, the UC isn't the utopia you think it is. Those vids on the Net? All propaganda. Everyone knows that. They make the United Countries look like heaven, make us want to migrate, then as soon as we cross the border, bam! They force us into the army. Courtesy of the EEI Act."
The Enforced Enlistment of Immigrants and Illegals Act.
Alejandro whistled at the bartender and waved our nearly-empty pitcher. "José, another." Alejandro wasn't wearing his hat tonight, and he had his double collar down so that his oval face was completely visible. He had a closely-trimmed mustache and beard that nicely matched his thick brows. Didn't help his haunted eyes, though.
I emptied my glass and wiped my lips. "What if I like the EEI Act? What if I want to be drafted into the UC army?"
Alejandro nearly choked on the last bit of beer in the pitcher. "Most people sneak across the border because they want to
live
in the UC. Not die for it, you know?"
"Just listen to me for a sec. Joining the UC army isn't so different from what I'm doing now. I'd still get beat up for other people, except I'd get to wear a fancy uniform while doing it. And whenever I lost my gun, I'd get a new one free of charge, no questions asked. I'd get to see the world, and potentially the galaxy. Plus I'd be paid a heck of a lot more."
"Yeah, and get shot at," Alejandro deadpanned.
"As I said, not so different from here. Look. I'm twenty-two years old. I've been in this country far too long. I appreciate everything you've done for me, I really do, but you know what? I'm going to walk all the way to the border if I have to. I've had it with this place."
Alejandro started tapping his fingers against the side of the pitcher. A nervous habit of his. "You really mean that don't you?"
"I do."
He took another swallow, finishing the pitcher. He stared into the empty container. "I might have... I might have paid someone to rob you this morning."
I stood up. "You
what
?" My pounding headache seemed to worsen.
He couldn't meet my eye. "I'm sorry, Rade. I didn't want you to go. I was afraid.
Caramba
. I didn't know how important it was to you."
I held up my thumb and forefinger. "Alejandro, I'm this close from starting a bar fight with you."
"I'll pay the Border Hoppers so you can go," he said softly.
"You'll what?" I wasn't sure I'd heard right.
"I'll pay the Border Hoppers. Because that's how we do it. I did you a wrong, and now I'm making it right."
I sat back down, the fight draining out of me. "I still can't believe you'd do something like that to me in the first place."
"I know. It was a mistake. I guess I hoped it would make you change your mind. But maybe it's better if you go. I don't want to hold you back."
"You're really going to pay the Border Hoppers for me?"
He gave me a cross look. "I said I would, didn't I?"
"But what about the condo you've been saving up to buy with that girl of yours?
Your fiancée?"
He stared into the empty pitcher once again. "There is no girl." He sounded ashamed. "I made her up. Brenda is... she's a Skin Musician."
"Oh." That explained why he never introduced me. You couldn't marry a bawdyhouse sex robot.
Alejandro waved at the bartender. "Damn it José!"
José finally came and refilled the pitcher.
We portioned the beer out in our glasses, drinking quietly. My headache had faded. Guess the ointment Alejandro had applied was working.
That, or the beer.
"Come with me," I said.
I wasn't sure I could do this myself. Despite my heartfelt, determined words, moving to the UC and joining the army was a frightening prospect. Alejandro had been there for me since I was a child. He'd found me on the streets, guided me, acted like the big brother I never had. Sure, sometimes he did a few misguided things, like robbing me for example, but in the end he was really just looking out for me. In his own way.
Alejandro downed his glass, and refilled it. "I'm not going with you. I'll give you the money,
si
, but go with you, no."
"Okay." I finished my own drink, looking away. I didn't want him to see the disappointment on my face. I guess I'd have to do this alone after all.
"You don't believe me, do you?" Alejandro said.
"I believe you, Alejandro."
"Then why don't you sound happy?
Caramba
. I just said I'd pay your entire Border Hopper fee!"
I looked at him, and forced a smile. "No. I'm happy."
"Actually, you know what? I'll throw in double what you had in your account."
"Why?"
"Because that's how we do it. I always pay back my debts."
"I don't know what to say. Thanks bro. I owe you one I guess."
He smiled, but I could see that his eyes were moist. He looked away. "You don't owe me a thing." I thought he was going to choke up.
I rested a hand on his shoulder. "Seriously bro, come with me. Leave this sinkhole behind. You know in your heart that the UC isn't all hype and propaganda. You've seen the vids on the Net. And you remember what my Uncle Alek told us, don't you? How the United Countries really is a haven compared to this. Can you imagine, not having to work if you don't want to? Not having to carry a gun around everywhere?"