The Second Sphere

Back at the Laslow Building, up on the PI level, there was silence; the kind that’s like nails on a chalkboard. There wasn’t a single person behind a desk putting in late hours, trying to make cases and getting work done. Down on the Intelligence floor, people sat at their desks, working on big problems, trying to understand the physics behind the explosion in New Mumbai. The PI operation seemed so pathetic; no work ethic.

I set out to find Malinda. Beyond the vast, empty main room, I followed a maze of narrow hallways with doors sporadically lining them. At the third hallway, I knocked at the seventh door on the left. There, I found her sitting at a broad table, staring at a crisp image on the link-up.

“Hurry up. Things are just getting good,” she said. Behind her was a set of campy bunk beds. The walls of the room were sterile-gray. There wasn’t a view of the outside world; it seemed like a prison.

“Sorry I took so long,” I said. I dragged a chair over and sat next to her. On the link-up was an image of Cody Beans. “Did he go straight over to this place when he left the Four Provinces?” I asked.

“He left about three minutes after you did and went straight there,” she said.

“And?”

Malinda put her right index finger to her lips and, with the left index finger, pointed at Cody.

“He’s cool,” Cody said. “Hard ass, but cool.”

“Can he keep his word?” Newberry asked.

“He’s done right by me,” Cody said.

“I’m going to move forward then.”

“So, where would you go?” Cody asked.

“Sort of defeat the purpose, me telling you.” Newberry spoke with polite condescension.

“Well, Mr. Newberry,” Cody said. “I’ll miss having you around.”

“I’ll miss being here,” Newberry said. It was sentimental moments like these that gave perspective on human life. Even though they were nothing more than exchangers of sin and intelligence, they still believed that they had a special bond.

“On the house,” Cody finally said, gesturing around the room. “For being so good to me over the years.”

Newberry paced the apartment, perusing the piles of women as though they were yards of fabric. A few dozen throwaways lay on the floor, on the bed in the corner of the room, and on the sofa behind Cody. Newberry didn’t take much time choosing a throwaway. The man had good taste. Cristina was on the floor, lying between two brunettes, her eyes closed. When Newberry focused on her face, he didn’t hesitate to point to her.

“That one,” he said forcefully. Cody got Cristina up, made sure her clothes were squarely on her body, and patted her down to make sure that she was clean.

“How much?” Newberry asked.

“Like I said, don’t worry about it. Just bring her back in the morning.”

The two men shook hands. Newberry left with the throwaway. On the almost-empty train, they took seats on opposite sides of the car from each other. He watched her as though she were a work of art, something to be held at a distance, protected behind special glass.

After they got off the train, the couple headed to the Grand Marquis Condominiums, an opulent palace with grand chandeliers, exquisite Turkish rugs, and a series of bots working the building in various capacities in the lobby. We switched our feed to that of the building.

He got his chip scanned, and they took the elevator up to the 270th floor. They entered Apartment 2733. The feed from inside the room was blurry. In the one room, regally furnished apartment, Newberry didn’t hesitate before getting her clothes off. They began to engage in creative fucking, as though Newberry had something to prove, not to the throwaway, but to himself.

For the first half hour or so, the sex was as intriguing as any pornography. I can’t say that I felt entirely comfortable sitting next to Malinda, but I was a pro and tried to think about ice water to keep myself in check. But soon, the sex grew tiresome. The fucking went on. And on. And on. At one point, Newberry took a break to take a shower, but then quickly returned, his appetite enormous. Two hours went by.

During that time, I got up to stretch, pace the room, and glance at Malinda to see what she made of these pornographic images. But, Malinda was like the Mona Lisa. I could tell she thought something, but there was no way to figure out what that was.

I don’t know what time it was when the screen crackled and the connection with Newberry disappeared from the link-up. But suddenly, there was nothing.

“What happened?” I asked.

“Something’s wrong.” Malinda stood and moved around the table to get a look at the back of the link-up.

“What is it?”

Malinda chewed on the end of her thumb like a nervous teenager.

“The connection’s fine back here. It’s not the link-up,” she said. I switched the feed back to the trace. There was nothing but static.

“You said the trace would last forty-eight hours.”

“It should. I’ve never had one fail me,” I said.

“You’ve never seen something like this on a trace?”

“We need to get over there,” I said as I stood. “You have access to a service weapon?”

“Yeah, of course,” she said.

“Bring it with you. I’ll meet you in the lobby in five minutes.”

I went to my office and took the pulse pistol from the safe under my desk, along with a holster. I grabbed a crumpled blue blazer that was underneath the desk. I batted it with my hand a few times to get out the wrinkles, then put it on.

Down in the lobby, Malinda waited for me.

“You get a weapon?” I whispered to her.

“I’ve got it holstered,” she said, her eyes darting around.

“Good,” I said.

“You think we should notify anyone?” she asked.

“I don’t want to start a panic if there’s no need to,” I said. “If we get over there and find something wrong, we call in back up. But until we know that something’s going on, we don’t want to break our cover.”

We caught the train to the Marquis without any words passing between us and slipped inside the condo building without attracting any attention. The place felt like a museum, cold and sterile.

“Can I help you, sir?” the squat, silver bot in front of the elevators asked. A series of red lights zoomed around its head.

“Laslow Intelligence,” I said. “We’re going to the 270th Floor.”

“Is this official business, sir?” the bot asked.

“Under TSG directive 335, I have the right to enter this facility if I believe suspicious activity is taking place here.”

“Yes sir,” the bot said.

A light flashed across my chip.

“What the hell is that?” Malinda asked when we got in the elevator.

“Laslow full access,” I said to her.

On the 270th floor, the sound of entertainment hummed from various apartments. I wished for a dose of Love, anything to take some of the edge off. The floors were hard, white; the walls glowed green. There was a strong smell of apple pie air freshener. We moved slowly down the hallway until we stood in front of Apartment 2733.

“Should we knock?” Malinda asked.

“Shhh,” I said. I put my ear to the door and closed my eyes. All I could hear was the ambient noise.

Then, there was a loud thump from behind the door. I stepped back. A scream jolted us. Another scream came, this one accompanied by a crash of glass breaking. A third scream ripped the air, this time with a prolonged gasp.

“Heeeellllllp!” came a muffled cry from behind the door. A man’s voice; a man’s terrified voice.

I put my shoulder against the door, but Malinda grabbed my wrist. Her nostrils flared as her eyes tried to hold mine. I ripped my wrist away.

“We should call for backup,” she said.

“Heellllp! Heeelllp!” There was the muffled sound of a struggle. The clatter of falling metal followed. The seconds slowed. A few doors opened around us, confused, tired people, wondering what the hell was going on. I knocked on the door.

From behind the door I heard another crash. I put my shoulder against the door and pushed. Nothing happened. It was like smacking the hull of a ship.

I lifted my leg and sent a blistering kick against the metal door. Part of it dented, but not enough to let me pass. Growling that sounded like an engine starting ripped the air; more muffled bumps sounded against the walls.

I took out my weapon. Malinda’s eyes opened wide. I sent a bolt through the scanner, kicked in the smoking door, and stepped into the room.

As the smoke cleared, the scene came into focus. Two bodies lay on the ground, their limbs entangled. Blood was streaked across them. There, on top of Newberry was Cristina. She was naked, her body poised to attack Newberry once again. Her gaze hit me, and I saw eyes filled with dark rage. Her mouth opened, and a burst of angry energy came from her throat, a deep growl like no animal I’d ever heard. Synthetic blood dripped from her chin.

Beneath her was Newberry. He, too, was naked, but his face was full of terror, a streak of blood along the base of his chin. There were wounds all over him that spit the smell of synthetic blood. In a moment, Cristina was off him, her body dragging along the ground like some wild animal, her eyes still full of rage.

“Don’t let her near you!” Newberry cried. I heard the voices of people from the hallway. Calls for security echoed.

Cristina was bent forward, her joints twisted in unnatural directions. The slowness of her movements scared me, like she was sizing me up. They were too precise. Too planned. Too much like a killer.

The speed with which she leapt forward, her teeth bared, surprised me. My finger stayed on the trigger even as the shot hit her body and radiated throughout. She dropped to the floor. The smell in the room changed, and instead of just synthetic blood, a curdling smell of melting innards permeated the air. I watched her go into brief convulsions, her eyes still open, dark, and foreboding. The chip in her neck melted after a few moments, and the life that had shown in her eyes disappeared.

I stepped over her body, toward Newberry. His position hadn’t changed. His bloody face appeared terrified. There were bite marks all over his midsection, some of which were deep enough for the synthetic innards to show through. I went to the bathroom and got towels, and returned to Newberry, pressing them gently against the wounds. The blood that poured from him was red and thick, and the towels sopped it up like they were thirsty.

I saw Malinda in the doorway. With a cautious look in her eyes, she stepped forward and scanned the room. “I called for backup,” she said. She stared at the throwaway, then at Newberry, as she moved carefully toward me.

“What happened?” she asked, as she scanned the room. The man’s face was the color of snow. A tremor came to his body, lasting a few moments.

“I, I, I don’t know. We were here, and we were about to…” His voice fell away, then came back. “And she just went crazy...she bit me. She bit me. Wait, wait, wait, I, awwwwwwww,” he cried. A gurgle rose in his throat and his body twitched. The convulsions that followed were awkward and painful to watch. I fell backward as his arm hit me. He froze. Then, his back arced. The towels fell, revealing his full nude body.

“Get the door,” I said. The voices were loud in the hallway now, and I knew that there would be security in a few moments. But the only way to guarantee everyone’s safety was to get that door closed.

The growl that came from Newberry’s mouth set my teeth on edge. His eyes became dark as blood poured out of his wound. He turned on his knees, then perched on all fours, like a cat. He breathed heavily, his eyes filled with darkness. Anything that was human in him was now gone. He leapt, his mouth open, fingers curved to rip into me.

I blocked his charge with my foot, shoving him to the side. He fell with a crash on the ground. Newberry rolled upright and bared his teeth. He went for my leg like some dog before I clapped him on the back of the head with the butt of my gun. I aimed the pistol right at his head and sent a shock wave through him. He sputtered on the ground, a grunting noise coming from his mouth. The grunting slowed to a purr as his innards melted, and finally he was still. Malinda still stood there, frozen.

“Give me a hand,” I said. But she didn’t move. I worried that if someone came through that door, she might have a bad reaction. “Malinda, focus! Look at me.” Her eyes rose and met mine. They were unnervingly calm. I waved her over to me. She moved slowly, stepping directly in the blood pooled on the floor. She grabbed my hand and pulled me up.

I assessed the damage. The room was a mess. Broken glass and smashed metal littered the floor. There were two large holes in the walls.

“Are you okay?” Malinda asked. I nodded, but I really wasn’t. Newberry’s body twitched suddenly, and the throwaway smoldered. From the hallway, I heard the muffled sounds of footsteps, a marching army. There was a burst at the door and three armed men with sub lasers stormed the room.

“Drop your weapons! Hands on your heads!” One of them called. They were dressed in full assault gear, their guns pointed at us. I put my gun down slowly, and Malinda and I put our hands on our heads.

“Kneel on the ground,” one of them said again. We did as we were told. I felt the synthetic blood soaking through my clothes and onto my skin.

“We’re with Laslow,” I said. I breathed heavily. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Malinda’s face. The calm remained. The men didn’t make any movement at first. “Do a scan,” I said. “We’re Laslow.” One of the men groped Malinda and scanned her chip with an authenticator. The other two with the machine guns didn’t move. He then moved over and scanned mine.

“These guys are legit,” he said.

“Can we stand?” I asked. The men looked at each other.

“Sure, get up,” one said. We stood.

“What the hell happened in here?”