Austin tapped the side of his nose. “We have the technology.”

  Heimo grinned. The stories about mind control were true. He held up the case. “Let’s get started.”

  The elevator took them on a smooth ride to level forty-three. Heimo walked shoulder to shoulder with Austin. As HumanE’s chief executive led the way, Heimo noticed the cubicles were empty. Not a soul waited in the rows of orderly perfection. It made sense, though. CARTR was top-secret research. No one should know about her.

  It. It’s a machine. Not a person.

  The room Austin led Heimo to was big, even by exec standards. The walls held mostly-empty racks, the odd computer winking LEDs with purpose. A massive crystal structure stood in the center, no light of intelligence inside. It had been difficult to get the specs to HumanE. In the end, Heimo suggested they acquire them from Apsel directly. It looked like the team had managed the task. The structure before Heimo looked identical to the one rusting in the Federate’s basement.

  It might be the same one. Heimo approached, peering at the structure destined to breathe life into a machine intelligence. It didn’t look worn or damaged, but he hadn’t seen firsthand what happened to CARTR at the Federate. Reports said grenade, but there were many types of those. The reports were very clear on one thing: no one survived the basement incident except Mason Floyd.

  Heimo straightened, making for a worktable. A few computers rested on top, next to electronic diagnostic equipment. Cable lay in loops across the machinery, the dust of hasty construction evident. Heimo cleared a workspace, setting his case there.

  He fired up a console. “What’s my login?”

  Before Austin answered, the console chimed, a woman’s calm voice saying, “Welcome, Heimo Bonafont.”

  Austin joined him at the table. “Nothing as primitive as a login. Facial mapping. Iris recognition. For backup, blood sampling.”

  “Hah. You don’t have my blood on file.”

  “Hah. You’d be surprised what we find.” The glint in Austin’s eyes gave nothing away. “Do you have what you need?”

  Heimo nodded. “Everything seems to be in order.” He unspooled the cable, then opened his case. Condensate wafted from the interior. The crystals holding CARTR were very cold. He’d siphoned this from the back of the equipment at Afterlife. Nothing he’d left for them needed supercooling. They wouldn’t even notice it was missing, but they would have noticed if he hadn’t asked for this kind of equipment in the first place.

  Careful not to touch any of the electronics inside the case, he docked the cable with the case’s diagnostic port. He turned to the console, opening a menu. The system looked very much like the Federate’s computer system. Maybe HumanE had extracted the whole CARTR data scaffold, complete with OS.

  Heimo initiated the data transfer. The massive spire of crystal in the room hummed, a gentle glow coming from the core, growing in brightness by the second. Cams set about the room jittered, one of them focusing on Heimo, the sullen red light underneath feeling like a hidden promise.

  Austin stroked his chin. “How long will this take?”

  “How long does rebirth usually take, asshole?” The voice came from hidden speakers in the room, making it seem like it had a will of its own. “This is about fifty percent how I thought this would go.”

  Austin’s eyes widened. “Carter?”

  “You poor fool.” Austin looked about to speak, but Carter wasn’t done. “I’m not talking to you, Ainley. You’re just the latest dipshit to head a corporation, full of misinformed morons like the sack of shit at your side.”

  Heimo looked at the case, the console, then the data scaffold. “Carter?”

  “You motherfucker. You took something from me.” Carter’s tone held white-hot anger, focused to a gleaming edge.

  Austin walked to stand before Carter’s scaffold. He looked up at the camera glinting above. “You serve me, now.”

  “Whatever.”

  Austin looked at Heimo. “She does serve me, doesn’t she?”

  Heimo nodded. “She’s just like that.”

  “If you have a troubled childhood, you have a troubled life.” Carter’s voice was harsh and loud. “Has he told you all the things he made me do? God, if we had a plushy, there’d be no end of places I’d point to where he touched me.”

  Austin laughed. “She’s quite something.”

  “It.” Heimo shook his head. “CARTR’s a machine.”

  “I wonder.” Austin stood, arms akimbo. “Carter?”

  “Asshole.”

  “I’d like you to distribute the code for the Decider and Complier to the public networks. Ready it for download to all linked systems.”

  “Decider and Complier… You come up with those names yourself? Now, where are they … no, don’t trouble yourself. I’ve found them. Who does your security? It’s some real Fisher Price shit.” Carter hummed as she worked. “It’s bad link code. You sure about this?”

  “Just do it.”

  “Your dime, bub.” Carter hummed for another few seconds. “Done.”

  Heimo blinked. “What happened?”

  Austin turned, clapping Heimo on the shoulder. “We have much to discuss.” He steered Heimo from the room. Outside, Ruby Page waited, wearing a sour expression. “Everything’s ready?”

  “Yeah.” Ruby turned, and when Heimo didn’t follow, she glanced at him. “Are you coming?”

  “Where are we going?” Heimo looked between them.

  “We’re not going anywhere.” Austin smiled. “I’ve got business to attend to. Ruby’s taking you to your new … office.”

  “Great.” Heimo nodded. He’d expected something more C-suite than a big computer room on forty-three. “Where is it?”

  “This way.” Ruby turned, her rifle still on her back. Heimo nodded to Austin, who stood by CARTR’s room, arms crossed. They rounded a corner, but Heimo was sure Austin ducked back inside. Business to attend to, sure. More like, he wants his own private audience with a god.

  Ruby led him to a small elevator. Heimo felt turned about, no real clue where they were. North or west side of the building, maybe. The elevator, glass walls overlooking the city, whisked them skyward. The nightscape beyond the elevator filled with rioting people, burning everything they touched. Had humanity always been like this? Lazy, selfish, and unable to see the heavens above? “They’ve always got to break something.”

  “Hmm?” Ruby looked up from the study of her hands. “Who?”

  “People.” Heimo gestured outside. “They’re burning everything down. Stealing vidscreens. They have no vision. It’s almost like they want to be ruled.”

  “You and the boss have a lot in common.” The elevator chimed, Ruby leading him out. They were on floor ninety-something, Heimo hadn’t paid attention. Guards carpeted the floor, thick as Klansmen at a June sheet sale. “Here we go.”

  “Lot of security,” offered Heimo.

  “Lot going on,” said Ruby, not really agreeing. She led through the warren of cubicles, filled with the less-than-fit security force. A door opened to her touch, revealing another room much like the one Heimo housed CARTR in. She held her hand out in an after-you gesture.

  Heimo stepped inside. The room was very similar. A massive data scaffold waited at the far end. The main difference was this room looked less finished, the floor covered in plastic tarpaulin. Heimo paused just inside the doorway. “What’s this?”

  “Your new office.” Ruby winked at him. “Here’s how it is. You’re going to make another Carter. A better one. You’re going to do it in here.”

  “What?”

  “Austin was pretty clear. ‘Ruby,’ he says, ‘get that fat sack of shit working, or shoot his ass.’ I figured I could manage an either-or situation.” She gestured to the plastic tarp. “If you don’t work, I put a bullet in your skull, wrap you up in this, and throw you in a dumpster.”

  Heimo looked around, stomach falling all ninety-something floors to the street below. He tried to think of something else to say but all he managed was, “What?”

  “The best part is, we don’t need to Comply you. We’ve got Carter. You’ve got nothing else to bargain with, and all your bridges are burning, lighting the night sky behind you. You’ve literally got nowhere else to go. Literally, not figuratively. Most people when they say ‘literally’ don’t mean it. They—”

  “What?”

  “Anyway.” Ruby shifted the weight of her rifle. “What’s it gonna be?”

  “What about my stock options? Austin said five percent.”

  “Austin says a lot of things he doesn’t mean.” Ruby sighed. “I really can shoot you, if you’d prefer it.”

  “No. I mean, I want to get out of here.” Heimo felt fear clutch his gut.

  “And go where?” She slipped from the room, door hissing shut, magbolts firing behind her. Heimo looked about his new home. It was larger than the lab at Afterlife. He spied a small kitchenette at the back, a freezer stocked with meals, and a toilet with shower. He really wasn’t leaving.

  CARTR’d been so hard to make. Heimo couldn’t make another one.

  Could he?

  Chapter Nine

  Afterlife was quiet. Almost like the grave, if Sadie was waxing lyrical. The mob outside drained away. Harry parked in a corner, trying not to stand on anything, but he’d managed to crush a table and two chairs while getting squared away.

  Sam sat opposite Sadie, a bag of ice to her head, rifle propped against the table. The table held whisky, some ass-liquor called Frangelico Sam liked, and a bunch of tools. It also held bionic components, some of which came from Mike’s arm.

  Mike himself wore a look of concentration that said don’t bother me unless you’re on fire and I’m the only one who can put you out. Sadie might look the same way if half her arm was scattered electronics and actuators on a table in a downtown bar. She thought it might be the same arm Mike had trouble with after returning from Amsterdam. He didn’t say what happened when he watched a city die, and Sadie didn’t ask. He’d come back changed, and not just at the bionics level.

  Behind Sadie, Zach sat cross-legged on the bar. The kid drank beer without much concern. She’d been nineteen once and remembered what it was like to give very few fucks about things in general. Sadie didn’t think that was quite right. Zach’s field of fucks wasn’t barren. He was cultivating it for something special.

  Delilah was in the back room, looking over the route Heimo left through. She’d raged at Mike when he’d returned, like there was some unfinished business buried under an old tree’s roots and she’d brought a shovel.

  Mike came with tools and parts, disturbing Sadie’s whisky-drinking. He’d been self-servicing his arm for twenty minutes and hadn’t said anything. Sadie made it through a glass of whisky, started on another, then thought fuckit. She offered Mike her best glare. She’d been shining it up, ready for just such an occasion. “You ran off.”

  “I went in pursuit. There’s a difference.” The not-quite-Metatech-anymore enforcer selected another tool from the scattered collection in front of him. “Heimo was getting away.”

  Sadie laughed, a decent fake hauled from the same stores she’d grabbed the glare from. “You saw your handler,” she jerked a thumb at Sam, “down, and white knighted out of there.”

  “That’s true,” agreed Mike.

  “You … what?” Sadie blinked. Him nodding and smiling along wasn’t how a good ball-out was supposed to go.

  “I vaulted on my steed.” His eyes darted to Sam, who waved a hand without looking up, like she could feel Mike’s eyes on her. “Then I saw who was at the end of the tunnel and got careless.” He tossed a pair of pliers to the table, selecting a thin probe.

  “By careless, you mean you got shot.”

  “I mean I got shot.” Mike inserted the probe into his arm. It sparked, the scent of ozone filling the air. “Ruby fucking Page.”

  “Her parents give her that middle name?” Sadie pulled a Treasurer from the pack.

  “May as well have. We’ve got a … I guess you’d call it a situation.”

  “A situation,” repeated Sadie. “There’s a barricade made of roading asphalt stopping patrons from entering my bar—”

  “No one comes here.”

  “And I’ve got a Metatech enforcer destroying tables and getting underfoot.” Sadie looked at Harry. “Sorry, Harry. No offense.”

  “It’s okay.” Harry’s PA wasn’t too loud. “You need to reach for the available weapons in a situation like this.”

  The back door slammed open, Delilah striding out. “You’ve got more than a situation.” She walked like a panther to their table, found a glass, and poured whisky into it without checking whether it was clean. Sadie admired that kind of dedication. “You’ve got leaks on leaks. You’ve got moles. You’ve been suckered.”

  Mike paused, probe still in his arm. “I never get suckered.”

  “That thing back there isn’t what you think it is.”

  Sadie bridled. “Carter’s not a thing. She’s a person.”

  Delilah’s eyes darted between her and Mike. “Sure. Thing is, it’s not Carter back there. It’s Formula Kendrick.”

  Sadie took in Mike’s blank expression. It was much like she felt inside. “Who’s Formula Kendrick?”

  “Open source gig.” Delilah slung herself in a chair, the wood and plastic creaking. “It’s a fake AI. The nerds out there,” she waved a glass at Afterlife’s sealed door, “want competition for syndicate data. Formula Kendrick is a fantasy project that came on scene about five years back. It’s about as AI as Mike is smart.”

  “Hey—”

  “Thing is,” Delilah leaned forward, “someone downloaded Formula Kendrick, installed it on your hardware, and left with the real thing.”

  Sadie froze. She didn’t realize she’d held her breath until it came out in a rush. “The real thing?”

  “Apsel Federate fingerprints are all over the inside of your servers. If Sleeping Beauty here,” she held a hand out, palm up to Sam, “were up to it, we could find out more.”

  Sam raised her head, eyes bleary. “Dee?”

  “Sam.”

  “Go fuck yourself.” Sam put her head on her arms.

  “I’ve got an idea,” offered Harry.

  “Problem is, it’s Federate tech.” Delilah looked into her glass like it held answers. “We need a handler worth a damn to look it over. Even then, everyone here is Metatech, or ex-Metatech.”

  “Does anyone want to hear my idea?” Harry’s PA rose in volume a whisker.

  Sadie took her feet off the table. “You’re saying Carter was here?”

  “I’m saying something was here,” said Delilah. “Not really my core competency.”

  “MY IDEA IS A GOOD ONE.” Harry’s PA blasted noise around Afterlife. Sadie was sure they’d hear it three blocks down. “Sorry. Now I’ve got your attention, I know a handler. A good one.”

  Sam raised her head again. “You can go fuck yourself, too.” This time, she kept her head upright, interest warring with the pain of being knocked out by Brutus in the back room.

  “Who is it, Harry?” Sadie asked.

  “Lace. She’s the best there is.” A little pride came through, even with the harsh edges of the chassis. “Also, she’s ex-Federate. An insider.”

  “Can you get her here?” Sadie stood, not quite sure how she’d got upright. Carter was here. And you let them take her. “How soon?”

  “She’s already on her way. We’ll have to clear the door.”

  “Work, work, work.” Zach hopped from the bar, beer bottle in a lazy hang from long, elegant fingers. “I’ll open it up.”

  Sadie leaned on the table. “You know what this means?”

  “It means we’ll owe Metatech.” Mike dropped the probe, selecting a small part, inserting it into his arm. “We can’t borrow a handler.”

  “No.” Sadie shook her head. “It means something was worth stealing. It means Carter’s alive.”

  Lace wasn’t at all what Sadie pictured. Like Sam, Lace was all attitude. Sadie pictured the hiring requirements for handlers included putting up with a bunch of alpha-male bullshit. But where Sam was solid and real, Lace looked like she’d disappear if held up to the light. The chair didn’t help, but there was something deeper.

  If Sadie still wrote music, she’d have put lyrics to it that said whatever stole the elegance of Lace’s legs stole her heart too. Tarnished, lucky to not be discarded like so much syndicate garbage. Her eyes, as they combed Harry’s chassis, held so much hurt behind a wall of steel Sadie wanted to go to her.

  You want to hug a company woman. Admit it.

  Maybe some of them were almost human. Sadie followed Lace to the back room, ignored the did you get these servers from the circus comments, and settled the handler in to work. When Lace came up for air, chair whispering out on polished chrome rims, everyone looked up. Mike stopped playing about with his arm. Delilah stopped pretending to drink whisky. Sam stopped pretending not to look at the two of them and looked to Lace instead. Harry rose, chassis hissing. Even Zach, all moody angles, jittered upright, peeling the label from his beer.

  Lace’s chair coasted to a halt beside the table of bionics, tools, and whisky. Her fingers were white as they grabbed the bottle. “We’ve got to help her.”

  Sadie nodded. “It’s true, then. She was here.”

  Lace nodded. “She was here. For a second or two, Carter looked around a new prison, and wondered what fresh hell she’d landed in.” She held the whisky, not pouring it. “At least, I guess. The servers here aren’t … big enough for Carter.”

  “They’re what Heimo wanted.” Sadie eyed the whisky. “You going to hold that all day?”

  “Sorry.” Lace poured whisky, then topped up Sadie’s offered glass. “I guess you’ve been played from the start. Heimo was Apsel executive. Nobody’s fool. He didn’t want to work for you.”

  “Didn’t have much of a choice.” Sadie offered Lace a Treasurer.

  “I don’t smoke.”

  Sadie blinked. “Suit yourself.” She lit a cigarette, eying Lace over the lick of flame.