Gentlemen and Dolls

The first 2 and a half chapters of something I am working on:




Gentlemen and Dolls: Puppets on a String

Chapter 1

My name is John Knight and I live in an interesting world at interesting times. I am an Investigative Consultant by trade but most everyone considers me a private detective. With my age and varied experience you find yourself rarely surprised. I was recruited by the Peacekeepers in 2065 as an orphan and did merc security work for some Corps after that. It was not long before I was tired of putting money into other peoples’ wallets and not into my own. I’ve almost died several times and I have seen things most would pay to forget. It’s been a hard living but it is mine and that makes it worth it. I have done well enough that I have both a virtual and physical office.

When you come into my virtual office lobby you can choose your avatar to be anything you’d like. My privacy settings are cranked up to give my clients some form of anonymity. I’m not a corp-man and I’m certainly not the police, anymore, and most of the public that approaches me with issues would not do so if those settings were not in place. However, when you’re walking into my physical office dressed like a dame from an old private detective story then I know I’m being had. I first thought she was a streeter from a client just having a laugh. Like I said, I am rarely surprised. I am a little paranoid but I consider that part of the job description.

I don’t normally sit at my real life desk. If it was not for the maid-puppet the building supplied my office would probably be covered in layers of dust. I can work through my virtual lobby just as easily while working cases. However, it was an unusually slow week. None of the regular types had stopped by. I can earn enough money weekly to get by from employers looking for runaway indentured puppet-workers, lovers wanting to catch spouses cheating, and everyday background checks. I was spending some free time working on my appearance in my closet mirror when she walked in. It had been a few months since I touched a drink and everyday I woke up looking like I spent a night getting the shit beat out of me. I have a very unassuming face and my graying hair is my most noticeable feature. There’s a few faded scars from the ocular implants and the multiple rejuvenation treatments I had received when I was a corporate mercenary. It had been dangerous work but to call this appearance mine after three quarters of a century seems to be worth it. She startled me when the door opened. It wasn’t like a client to arrive physically without any Net presence at all. I had froze halfway through trying my tie and turned around to greet her.

“Hello, just come right on in. How can I help....” I stopped after losing my breath. She really did look right out of an old story. Her crimson dress had a slit on the right side from her ankles to her hips. She had matching heels on that clicked against the floor and her thick blonde hair was curled down to her shoulders. Her dress had an extensive v-neck that left nothing to the imagination. I know some less scrupulous clients that would kill to get their hands on a body like that.

“Hello, Mr. Knight.” she said huskily as she moved to sit down in the chair across from desk.

Nervously I ran my hands through my hair and hurriedly moved to sit down at my desk. “How can I help you, ma’am?” I said while digging through my desk for some paper and a pen.

I’ve found that pulling out something so antiquated can offset a client. They will either begin to dismiss you as incompetent or focus on being amused at it. This is a crucial part of me impressing a first time client. It also allows me time to dive the Net to find more information on them. I immediately uploaded a picture of her I had taken with my implant and began to run a search through several private search engines. My virtual lobby doubled as a diagnostic for my office and also uploaded information on her. It took note of her weight, height, heart rate, and myriad other bits of information that could help with a search.

“I will put it very bluntly, if you don’t mind.” she said with a smirk as I began to take notes on the paper. “I need you to investigate a murder.”
“A murder?” I asked while raising an eyebrow. “And whose murder would I need to investigate? Your husband’s?”
She laughed heartily. It was a bit unsettling. “No, not my my husband’s. This is something that you do, yes? I know your public information and cases on the Net seem rather tame in comparison.”

There! I had her. She had done some research of her own and was already dismissing me. I pulled out a data card and slid it across the table to her. “This will have information on several other... interesting... cases I have worked on. With the personal information about the clients redacted, for confidentiality.” I smiled gently as she picked up the card to examine it. This was supposed to be the part I find out this is just a prank or the real client walks in. It was almost to ridiculous to be genuine.

I checked my search of the Net. Normally it does not take long to find information on people. From the moment they are born people leave information scattered across the Net like bread crumbs. From birth records, to schooling, to employment, and hobbies. It’s almost impossible to hide or delete anything about yourself once it gets on there. It’s all scattered across the Net like a puzzle tossed on the ground. However, this is where I started being surprised. There was no information at all! There was nothing about this woman on the Net. There were no picture hits, aliases, place of business, and no social networking activity.

I looked up at her in shock. She showed no facial expression whatsoever. As I stared at her intently I began to notice other subtle hints. It’s hard to explain but it’s something a human can just notice about another human. She did not blink often enough. Her face was too symmetrical. Nobody has a face that perfect. I couldn’t detect any sign of her breathing. I had heard rumors about this new tech and how popular it was becoming in New Japan after a trial run. She was an empty shell of a robotic polymer body. She was a puppet.

“Ah. You are beginning to understand. Good.” she stated firmly. “I knew you would be shocked. We really do not have all day to discuss the why’s and how’s but I’ll only tell you that this...” She pointed at her body. “Is the next big phenomenon. Soon, the public won’t need to leave the safety of their homes. They won’t have to worry about the pollution, the fallout, the violence, et cetera. Between the Net and wearable puppets they will always be safe and secure.”

It felt like my jaw was resting on my desk and I had not swallowed in hours. I cleared my throat. I had to save some face and get back to the matter at hand. I organized my papers and as I reached for my pen I began to run Net searches on wearable puppets. I also started diagnostics on my firewall and blocker software. Whomever this was had to have a wireless connection to the puppet in some way. The logical route was through my virtual lobby.

“Alright.” I said. “You want me to investigate a murder, you said? I need the details. Who was murdered?”

With her face full of fear her voice wavered as she whispered, “Mine. Good luck.” And at that point her head exploded. Internally I heard intrusion sirens as my firewall was breached. I had little time to react. Instinctively I had initiated a back-tracer and video/audio loggers to retroactively record. I tried to sign out of my virtual lobby but it was already freezing as data-phantom programs began to overload my network. Seconds later everything went to static and my head slammed into my desk as I lost consciousness.

Chapter 2 

I awoke to a small console beeping on my desk. It was the backtracer and loggers I had activated. I keep many programs like that on separate servers for safety. I am nothing if not prepared. Or at least I try to be. I began to check myself physically and electronically. Besides a splitting headache and a minor bruise where my skull met my desk my body seemed to be alright. I began to boot up my virtual lobby again and connect back to the Net. I kept my tracer and loggers running just in case there was another cyber attack. It seemed unlikely though. My guess was that the hacker used the distraction of the appointment to blitz my, and the woman’s, defense programs. This had the smell of a professional. They wouldn’t stick around and risk detection to just see the destruction they had caused. My lobby finished booting up. Cautiously, I thrust my mind into it fully. What needed to be done next required all of my attention and the woman’s ‘body’ wasn’t going anywhere.

Immersing yourself into the Net fully is a breathtaking experience. Most of the world’s population spends more time there than in real life these days. The Net wasn’t my addiction but I understood the lure of it. That and real life investigation gives me a perspective most people do not have these days. Involving myself fully allows me to do multiple tasks at once with blinding speed. I immediately copied the tracer and logger records into my virtual lobby, re-ran the searches on wearable puppets, reinstalled my defense software, and checked my financial standing. This all happened in the space of less than 1 second. The tracer had tracked the hacker’s route backwards through the Net as far as it could go. With hundreds of server pings across the globe it was a lost cause. I expected as much. My defense software rebooted and there were no problems detected. I uploaded an intrusion report to the digital security company that ran it. They owed me and I always have priority whenever I require their services. Next, I ran a virtual reconstruction from the moment the woman walked through the door to when the attack occurred. I knew I wouldn't find anything electronically so I focused on her physical aspects. I ran simultaneous feeds of a 360 degree view around her. It took several viewings but when I focused on her face at the moment of attack I found what I was looking for. It was her eyes. The brief moment before her head blew apart her irises flickered. I zoomed in and focused on her right eye. The blue shade of her eye was amazing. She was sculpted artfully and intricately. The cost of a puppet like that must be astronomical. When her iris flickered again I zoomed in further. I had it! There was an electric flash the moment before she was destroyed. Somehow the hacker had hacked her body and backfired the electric current running through her. He must have focused all the energy into her head and presumably her CPU.

While pondering this I noticed my banking software flashing an alert. I focused on that and found something interesting. I did not have the usual lack of funds I have grown accustomed to seeing in my accounts. Instead I found a number with many zeros behind it. It was a transfer from a blocked offshore account. The only comment that was listed with the transfer was a note. EEI was all it said. EEI sounded familiar. I had just seen that somewhere online. I took that information and cross referenced it to my search of the wearable puppets. Immediately it pulled up a company. Emery Engineering International. They were rumored to be supplying some electronic components to Digital Life-Tech, the corporation that originally launched the beta test of the puppets in New Japan. A search of EEI pulled up nothing of interest except for an article about a lead engineer for the company having been put into the hospital after a suspected mugging. He was being treated at a hospital here in Big City. I disconnected from my lobby and retreated back into my body.

“Damn, I need a drink.” I muttered to myself. I leaned back in my chair and stared at the destroyed puppet sitting across from me. This was not good at all. I grabbed my pen and began to think on paper. I wrote out the facts I had while my mind worked furiously. Wearable puppets are soon to make a launch here in the US, if not worldwide. Someone wears one of the products and attempts to involve me by claiming they will murdered. Assuming the money transferred into my account is from the same person then I am effectively trapped. Looking from the outside in then it appears I destroyed this puppet and was paid for it. The last thing I needed to be involved in is corporate sabotage or worse. All I have left is an idea and a question. Why would I be targeted for this and was the man in the hospital connected? I sighed and stood up. It was time to hit the streets. I began to clean up my virtual lobby. I copied all the information I now had in triplicate and transferred them to secure servers. I couldn’t leave the puppet there in my lobby either. I did not have the means for disposing of a body at the time so I managed to drag and stuff her in my closet. I know how horrible that sounds but she was only a machine, evidence, and the only person/thing to walk into my office in months besides myself. It was a short term solution. I grabbed my coat and made sure the acid resistors were turned on. I locked my office and headed down the stairs. Leaving my virtual lobby open and active I walked outside into the city and the rain.

From what I’ve read Big City is unique when compared to the other metro-sprawls across the globe. It’s officially New New York but only historians call it that. After the last world war most of the eastern seaboard was destroyed and several major cities were left ruined. New York took the brunt of several attacks but somehow survived. There are still parts of the old city that are off limits but the cityscape is now a mix of neighborhood ghettos, mall-towns, Undercity hives, and corporate loft-villages all stacked on top of one another. The other major population centers across the Earth are all split into distinct districts. Not Big City though. There’s a saying among the streeters that shit falls down in Big City and it’s true. The further you move upwards towards the sky then the wealthier, symbolically, you are. The problem is the weather. The fallout radiation, chemical pollutants, and acid rain causes some incredibly unnatural changes among the people living at ground level. Another side effect is that any sense of color is drained from the buildings. Everything is a dulled rust-brown and most metal is eaten through with holes in a few years if not treated properly. Thankfully the neon signs and giant corporate billboards give you something to look at. A streeter’s life is not ideal and anyone with any amount of sense climbs as high as they can afford to get away from it all. I suppose this is a good time to tell you that I don’t seem to have any sense.

My coat’s acid resistors hummed as I hailed a hover-cab. The rain was really coming down and water was beginning to back up onto the street. My office is housed close to a corporate conglomerate compound which allows me easy access to transportation and a safe place to meet clients. You would be very lucky to hail a cab or even find a mobile vehicle in large sections of the city. I pulled my cred-ID out of my pocket and slid it through the scanner in the back seat. A flickering hologram of the city lit up and I found the hospital and selected it. The console beeped and a generic thanks from the cab’s corp chirped at me. Soft electronic music oozed from the speakers as the cab began to move forward. The trip would not take long as the hover-cab would be able to skim above the crowded streets. I closed my eyes and planned my next move as the beat of the music thumped rhythmically with the rain on the cab’s roof. It wouldn’t be hard to get into the hospital but gaining access to the patient would be difficult. I can easily bypass the hospital’s security system with my old Peacekeeper badge. However, most corps rent out rooms or even whole levels in major hospitals and install their own security. That would be much more difficult to get around. I say difficult but it would not be impossible and I had a plan.

Chapter 3

I opened my eyes as the cab descended down to ground level. The hospital was lit up like the sun. It was one of the few buildings in Big City that had nothing to hide. A corporate promo-board looped advertising on one side of the building. No surprise that it was for Digital Life-Tech. Undoubtedly they were preparing for the launch of the wearable puppets. The public entrance was wide open and there was a steady stream of people heading in, and out, of the hospital. Most of the public would be here for treatment of various illnesses caused by the weather. Unless you were a streeter or corp-man you could afford to have private physicians visit you at home. I entered the building and was almost blinded by the lights. The difference between the street and the hospital lobby was drastic. The entire place was colored white and the staff wore all white uniforms. It almost made me feel guilty bringing myself into this pristine place. At least the coat’s resistors had done their job and I was not dripping acidic water on the floor. I quickly strode past the lobby’s holographic public assistant and made my way to the elevators beyond. I was already signing into the hospital’s virtual lobby and accessing the patient records. I entered my old Peacekeeper credentials and pulled up the listings. I had not been a Peacekeeper in a very long time and technically passing myself as one was a crime. Luckily I’ve done a favor or two for a guy in the local precinct and as long as my intrusions are easily dismissed then I will be left alone. They have much more important things to do. It was as I assumed. The listings of patients in the corporate ward required further ID and had a much higher security rating. What the lack of information told me was exactly where the corporate ward was. I could see where almost every patient and employee in the hospital was except for a big blank area on the 32nd floor. That would be where my man was. I quickly infiltrated a hack program into one of the floor’s hospital emergency systems with a self-deletion command once it was activated. I’m sure the corp-men would discover it eventually but this was an everyday program easily found on the Net. It wouldn't trace back to me. I hit the button for floor 32 and waited patiently as the elevator made it’s way up.


© Robert Jones and Robots and Rockets, 2015. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Robert Jones and Robots and Rockets with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.