Gina returned to her body like an over-stretched elastic band snapping back to normal. She stumbled, dizzy and disoriented, and sank to her knees on the smooth vinyl floor. Blurred vision slowly began to clear, and to her surprise, the same room as before danced in front of her eyes. Jupiter knelt down next to her, helping her into a sitting position. It was as if no time at all had passed.
And then, all hell broke loose inside her skull.
She wasn’t ready for the artifact. Still weak and confused, she hadn’t had time to recover, to get back on balance. The burnt city reared up around her, monstrous steel shapes climbing into the sky, burning the real world away to black ash. They were like great cages built to trap the people as they died. She could see their ghosts around her, solid shadows frozen in time, flaking down to skeletons as the fire ate away what was left. Then she raised her hands and saw that she too, was burning, melting into a pool of liquid fat on the street beneath.
She closed her eyes and screamed until the violent shaking of her arms brought her out of it. She blinked up into Jupiter’s face and struggled to remember which was real — the tea house or the city.
“What happened?” the old man asked, concerned.
“Don’t know,” panted Gina. She trembled like a leaf in a thunderstorm, and swallowed the urge to heave. “This room is . . .”
She couldn’t find the words.
Dozens of VR pods were packed into the limited space, each radiating thoughts and emotions like a Spice junkie. There were people in them, Gina knew, and she shivered. The drug pulsed through their veins and squirmed in their minds. And yet . . . It was like they were sleeping, calm and unfocused. Gina couldn’t believe it. Her own mind began to race from a kind of contact high, a background squeal of feedback ringing in her head.
On the Street only a handful of people even realised what they were doing, let alone how to control their trance. Spice wired them up and confused them at the same time, it scattered their thoughts all around and left them to pick up the pieces. That was why the minds in this room were out of place. They didn’t feel like junkies at all.
Don’t be afraid, came words blowing through her mind like a warm breeze. Fear and disorientation gave way to curiosity. Gina acknowledged the contact, although she kept on guard.
What exactly shouldn’t I be afraid of? she asked, but there was no response.
Instead, for a short glimmering moment, a vision crashed into her mind of a starry sky. Hundreds of brilliant sparks were linked together by thin strands of light like a spider’s web. Then the image vanished again, and Gina was left only with the echoes of many voices fizzing in her brain.
Jupiter gave her a look of intense interest. “You can hear them, can’t you?” he asked softly, and she nodded, sensing his emotions. Surprise and wonder radiated out from him in waves, but underneath them Gina found a calculating edge, some part that was already tallying up figures. He continued, “We’d better get you into your pod.”
“You expect me to get in there?” she balked. “With them?”
“You expect me to help you,” he countered with a sour smile. After a moment’s hesitation, Gina hung her head and gave in. She wasn’t in much of a position to argue.
Helping her to her feet, Jupiter led her towards the back of the room where a handful of unoccupied pods sat waiting for a body. Her muscles were weak and disoriented, and she struggled to walk. Jupiter all but lifted her into the smooth rubber seat. Then, his face as serious as a tax return, he placed two tablets of Spice in her hand. In the same movement he chucked a pair of tablets down his own throat and swallowed them dry.
“Take them and relax,” he said, “I’ll join you in a moment.”
Gina felt coldness spreading through her body as she stared at the tablets. Her heart boomed in her throat. She was afraid of those pills. She had to take them, but she wasn’t sure what would happen if she did. The dead city flashed into her head, blackened towers sagging in the wind, but she desperately chased the vision away. All that remained was a faint keening noise in the farthest recesses of her mind.
She bit down and swallowed the Spice whole. Then she lay back into the foamy rubber of the pod, slipped the VR crown on her head, and let Jupiter shut the lid on her. It would take a few minutes for the drugs to kick in. She kind-of wished Darius was nearby, or Mahmoud, or any familiar face. A mind she knew, just as a point of reference, to help her navigate this mess. If only Bomber or Rat could be here . . .
Then, like a radio slowly tuning in to the right frequency, her mind began to expand. She opened her eyes into the goggles.
Fog surrounded her. Cool wisps tingled over her arms legs and left tiny drops on her skin. Despite the temperature, she didn’t feel cold, just . . . prickly. The fog could’ve been made of needles instead of water.
People began to drift out of the grey, slowly gathering in front of her by ones and twos. They each said hello as they stopped at a respectful distance away, every face smiling warmly. The fog turned a golden colour as more people came to stand before Gina. They were all lovingly rendered by the pod’s hardware, perfect down to the wrinkles on their cheeks. There were no cheap Main Street avatars here.
And they thought. Each avatar had a mind, or at least a piece of one, radiating comfort and welcome. Gina blinked, mouth agape, and tried to comprehend it.
Jupiter strolled to the front of the group and nodded at her. “The system should have adapted to you now,” he said plainly. “Welcome to the Network.”
“The Network?” asked Gina, apprehensiveness giving way to curiosity. “I don’t understand what I’m seeing.”
“Ask yourself the obvious questions, Gina. Where are you? Can you feel us? Are you getting any feedback?” He smiled. “If you concentrate, can you read my thoughts?”
She bit her lip and reached out, wrapping her mind around Jupiter, letting herself take in the emotions emanating from him. Anticipation. Satisfaction. Relief. His third eye was just beginning to open to a fresh dose of Spice.
Deeper inside, she found mechanical thoughts, images of electronics and software working in harmony. Two gnarled hands worked away in front of her, day and night, slowly building an off-the-shelf VR pod, but modifying it as it came together. Making it better.
The experience left her fuzzy and unclear. It was a bit like how she’d connected with Gabriel, but in the same way that smoke signals and message drums were a bit like a GlobeNet linkup. It was communication on a different sort of scale.
“You built these,” she whispered. She understood that much.
“That’s right. Many years ago I was a VR engineer, before I got turfed out on the Street and became another homeless wreck. I had a life. Within months I was down to begging for food, telling myself I’d never take those little pills. But I did. I opened my third eye, and the Idea came to me.
“It’s always been about Spice. Spice is what gives us the ability to interpret nearby brain waves into conscious thought. But Spice is considered a scientific dead end, a failed experiment, too stressful on the human mind to ever be useful. That’s what I thought, until I had the Idea. Why couldn’t I record and replicate people’s brain waves? Why couldn’t I send them to other telepaths electronically, even hundreds of kilometres away?”
Jupiter made an expansive gesture, encompassing the people and the world around him. “They told me I was mad at first, but the technology to do it already existed. All I had to do was take an EEG manipulation module and link it up to my homemade VR equipment. Two of my closest friends sat down in a different room, we swallowed our tablets, and when we went into VR . . . We found the Network.”
“I don’t feel any . . .” Gina began, but she hesitated in the face of Jupiter’s smile.
“Open your mind,” he said gently, offering his hand to her. Behind him the crowd shifted as everyone linked hands with the people closest to them. Jupiter continued, “Touch us and let yourself go.”
Hesitantly she reached out and took Jupiter’s outstretched hand.
The minds around her suddenly flashed into focus. It was like diving into a hot bath filled with something more than water, flowing through her and everyone else, connecting them all together. Things started to make sense. Love, comfort and joy flowed through her core from so many different places, so many different minds that understood and accepted her, and she found herself echoing those feelings. It didn’t matter what anyone was before. In the Network, they were . . .
Not one, exactly, but part of something greater.
Gina closed her eyes and let herself drift into that place. There was no room for fear or anger or pain. The others felt her wounds and soothed them, even as the part of Gabriel inside her watched with interest.
Do you know what you’ve gotten yourself into, Gina? he asked her. With her guard down, she could feel and hear him as clear as day.
No, she admitted, but I think I like it.
She pushed him down again and gave herself up to the Network.
The ingenuity of it struck Gina as she let the other minds go through her, and felt their eagerness to see more of her memories and experiences. She only had to think, and the environment around her changed itself to accommodate whatever she imagined. Rooms, objects, people — anything. Right now she stood in a pretty convincing simulation of the Street of Eyes, staring at herself.
Gina Hart arched her back under a lamppost, wearing a cheap little business suit and boots, staring into the eyes of a guy in a yellow-blue bomber jacket and a matching baseball cap. He held up a small credit chip with a large number on it.
It was her memory. The sight of Bomber’s face made her bite back moisture behind her eyes. Then, shaking her head, she dismissed the scene and returned to the fog, the communal place where everyone went in between imaginations.
In a way Jupiter had duplicated Gabriel’s dreamland in VR. The sheer ambition of it left her speechless.
She smiled at him as he welcomed her back to the group, even though they’d never been out of contact. “This is amazing, Jupiter. I can’t believe you built all of it.”
“I didn’t,” he said. “I rented time on an AI to do most of the programming for me. I’ve never been much on software. And, of course, I had help.”
“Your two friends?”
Jupiter rubbed the back of his neck with a stab of embarrassment. “Friends, and more. Lu Yin was a dear man. He believed in me when no one else would, and lent me more money than I could have asked of anyone. He died a few years ago, shortly after . . . my wife left us.”
Sending him a wave of comfort and understanding, she said, “I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were married.”
“Old wounds,” he said dismissively. The Network echoed some of his pain back to Gina, but he managed to mask most of it, keeping it for himself. “I met her on the Street of Eyes, another telepath with nowhere to go and nothing to live for. Adrift like the rest of us. She did more than just survive on the Street, though. Even while everyone else seemed to be spiralling the drain, she always grew stronger despite the odds. She pulled me out of the gutter with her. Half of this is hers.” He choked out a raspy little laugh and cleared his throat. “But that’s enough about me. You must have a lot of questions.”
Gina nodded. “I still don’t really understand how you treat people with problems. Even with this, it’s hard to imagine . . .”
“Think of it like VR therapy. You take us into your mind, into the artifact, and we’ll explore it together to see if we can make any sense of it. Any information is a bonus. You have to be able to understand something before you can come to terms with it.”
A cold shiver crept up Gina’s spine, but she balled her fists and steeled herself. “Whatever’s necessary.”
“Then it’s time we talked about what we need from you. Somewhere a little more comfortable.”
He closed his eyes, and the world changed to fit his imagination. A sunny street corner swam out of the mist. Little round tables were arranged on the pavement outside, green paint peeling off them in a charming run-down way. Gina couldn’t see anyone but she got the distinct feeling that there were people around, just out of sight, out of mind. Jupiter sat down and summoned a wine glass out of nowhere, then gazed at her with the same sharpness as their first meeting, the same piercingly intelligent eyes.
Gracefully, she adjusted her little black skirt and planted herself on the little plastic chair opposite him. She’d been traipsing around in jeans for weeks, but here, where she had to imagine her own clothes, her brain seemed to default to miniskirts. Anything that showed off her legs.
“Let’s put our cards on the table here,” Jupiter continued levelly. “Those pills I gave you earlier are fake, the operative ingredients in them being sugar and water. Despite that fact, you’re sitting across from me following along to my thoughts, feeling everything I feel. Putting your words straight into my mind.” He raised his glass at Gina and took a small sip. The taste of tart red wine echoed from him into her mouth. “In summation, you shouldn’t exist.”
“Other people have pointed that out to me,” Gina replied with stony courtesy.
“Oh, don’t get me wrong. I’m glad you do. I’ve been waiting for you for some time.”
“Why?”
He shrugged. “I created the Network because it was the right thing to do. It’s kept me and a lot of others sane when we could’ve easily slipped into the abyss. That was my wife’s dream, to help people, to share our feelings and by doing so achieve a greater understanding of each other. There’s just one pitfall. Without more Spice, it doesn’t work. Everything collapses in on itself like a house of cards.”
“I don’t know why I don’t need it anymore. I don’t understand how . . .” She clamped her mouth shut before she could let anything slip about Gabriel. What these people didn’t know couldn’t hurt them, and she didn’t want to say more than she had to.
“Our dependence on Spice isn’t going to change. I don’t think it’d be possible for us to learn what you’ve achieved, and that’s not what I wanted to talk to you about. My problem is that buying Spice is becoming increasingly difficult. Not two years ago you could get it from most street corners for five grand a tab. Now only specialised dealers sell it, charging five times as much, and their sources seem to be drying up one by one. I don’t care if it’s gangland trouble or some kind of clean-up by the Feds, but pretty soon Spice may be off the market completely.”
“You still haven’t told me what you actually need,” Gina pointed out.
“It’s simple. What we need is someone who can use her telepathic abilities in ways we can’t, someone who can access information that’s out of reach for us. Someone who can help us find out how to make Spice for ourselves.”
Gina’s eyebrows climbed up her forehead, and she sat back in her chair, unable to conceal her surprise. She imagined a cold glass of vodka orange to buy her time to recover. “I didn’t realise producing it was so difficult.”
“I’ve done a bit of research,” Jupiter said cynically. “There’s a lot more than simple chemicals at work. The stimulant compounds increase your hormone activity and general awareness, but every pill also contains nanorobots which temporarily affect certain areas of the brain. Mostly temporary. To put it simply, you don’t make these things with a home chemistry kit, or even your average meth lab. Nobody seems to know where it comes from or who makes it. The source uses so many blinds and middlemen that it’s impossible to follow the trail by conventional means.”
The implications of that speech slowly sank into Gina’s brain. She sighed, taking another swig of her drink. She didn’t know why she hadn’t suspected it before. A telepathy pill! Of course Gabriel would be involved, somewhere, somehow.
“Nanobots, huh?” she grunted. “Makes you wonder if there’s anything those little buggers can’t do.”
Jupiter clasped his hands together on the table. “You understand why we need Spice. You understand why we can’t approach the people who might have some answers. They don’t let third eyes anywhere near them, except their own guard dogs. They’re careful about their secrets.”
“But somebody who doesn’t need Spice can slip in under the radar,” ventured Gina.
“Exactly. If we can follow the distribution channels back to their source, we can find the recipe and nanoblueprints to make Spice. Once we get our hands on those, the sky’s the limit.”
Gina gave it a moment’s consideration. Then she reminded herself she didn’t have much of a choice. It was this or come crawling back to Gabriel, and she wouldn’t do that. Not now. Maybe not ever.
“I’m in,” she said, and finished the rest of her drink.
She found she didn’t need sleep inside the Network. Time passed in a contented haze without stopping to eat or drink. Surrounded by peace and love, using only her mind to interface with the world around her, the needs of her body fell by the wayside.
She couldn’t remember how long it had been, but Jupiter’s words still echoed in her mind. He’d said, “You’ll need an implant.”
Everybody had a few minor implants nowadays, basic medical stuff, biofeedback monitors and immune boosters. As a rich girl, Gina had gotten a new set at the start of every school year. What Jupiter was proposing, though . . . That was something else.
“A bright idea I had a while ago,” he’d told her, holding a small metal sphere in his hand. “This is a portable EEG scanner and emitter, basically the same hardware as I’ve put into my modified VR crowns. When implanted, it sits at the base of the skull and reads the electrical impulses from your brain, and it can also induce impulses by directly stimulating your spinal cord. It’ll allow a telepath with an open eye to communicate with the Network from the outside world. Telepathy only, though. It’s not a VR implant. That kind of technology doesn’t exist yet.”
“Jesus. A brain implant is a hell of a commitment, Jupiter. I’ve known you, what, two days?”
“I understand it’s a big thing, but there’s no reason to worry. Even if something went wrong, the implant is easily removed with basic surgical facilities. Any back-alley wetware shop could do it. It doesn’t come with any reliance on us.”
“What about my artifact? My treatment?”
“I told you this isn’t a charity. We’ll start your first session when you get back. Don’t expect the world, though. There’s only so much trauma you can deal with in one go.”
She gave him a long, hard look, but she couldn’t detect any underhandedness in his mind. Either he was being honest or just a very good liar. Still prevaricating, she said, “You’re not making things easy for me here, Jupiter.”
Cool grey eyes regarded her, sharp as razors. “Before we do anything, you’re going to have to learn to trust me. It’s the only way we’re going to be able to cooperate.”
“I just want some answers,” she said, a bit too harshly, biting back the wave of raw fear and dread that accompanied any thought of Gabriel’s burnt-out city. There were horrors there which she didn’t look forward to revisiting.
He flashed her a wry smile. “Don’t we all?” he asked, and logged out.
She’d been alone since then, working out simulations of her battle plan. Getting used to the sharing of minds and feelings with the other people in the Network. There were dozens, all with their own sad stories of how they ended up on the Street, taking Spice in a futile attempt to get away. That was the common thread binding these people together. Gina couldn’t help feeling some sort of sympathy. She understood them, and they understood her.
Well . . . They understood the person she used to be. Right now she wasn’t even sure she was still a person, and she wasn’t sure how much longer she could go on with this ragged hole inside her.
She looked at her plan again and nodded, satisfied that it wasn’t going to get any better than this. She’d have to play most of it by ear anyway. Brute force and personality would have to carry her through.
Suddenly she felt Jupiter’s presence splash back into the Network. He slowly materialised in front of her, but never seemed to quite resolve properly, staying sketchy and rough around the edges. His Spice trance was fading. The Network’s machinery struggled to read and deliver the impulses from his recovering brain. Regardless, he recognised Gina and gave her a pleasant nod.
“I think we have everything you need,” he said. There was a funny hesitation to his voice, probably mechanical. “Come out when you’re ready and we’ll get things underway.”
“Whatever,” she said and watched him disappear a second time.
Gina Hart closed her eyes and pulled the VR crown off her head. Sliding back into the real world, she felt a sharp, unfamiliar pain at the back of her neck. Her shaking fingers searched the skin and found a set of stitches covering a tiny incision scar. Some kind of anaesthetic had left the spot cold and numb to the touch.
Slowly, the unwelcome reality began to dawn on her.
Jupiter, you son of a bitch.
Even two hours later she couldn’t stop shivering. She didn’t know what started her off, whether it was the anaesthetic or the Spice or the shock of waking up after nonconsensual surgery. Trembling hands sorted through clothes from the donated wardrobes of women a few sizes less curvy than herself, and picked out the things she could squeeze into with any kind of dignity.
She sighed as she inspected herself in the mirror. Right now, it was going to take more than a low-cut top to make her look good.
Big blue bags showed under her bloodshot eyes, framed by skin as pale as death. A sterile dressing covered her new scar, and she couldn’t keep herself from rubbing it every so often, quietly raging. She looked like a fucking junkie. That might work for getting close to street dealers, but if she wanted any chance of getting to the higher-ups, she needed to look her best.
A little timer went off in the corner to let her know it was safe to take the bandage off. Craning her head around, she just managed to get a look in the mirror as the dressing came off. A dose of skin-sealant had already reduced the scar to a little white line across her skin. It wouldn’t be too bad, as long as she wore something that covered it without giving the impression she had something to hide.
Another stir of anger twisted in her belly, and she clenched her teeth. She still couldn’t believe Jupiter had had the gall. It might be easier to cope this way, but it felt like a betrayal of the trust she’d placed in him so far. It was sneaky and dishonest, but any way she thought about it, Jupiter had her over a barrel. She needed the treatment. What choice did she have?
The worst thing was, they hadn’t actually turned the implant on yet. She’d been separated from the Network for hours now, and while it didn’t feel quite like drug withdrawal, it was too close for comfort. Every part of her screamed to be let back inside, and her own body was suddenly a cold, lonely place where she didn’t really like to be.
She packed all the clothes away, leaving one outfit for tonight and one for tomorrow, a combination of tight button-up blouses and skinny jeans that left nothing to the imagination. Neither one felt quite right, but then she could barely remember the last time she wore her own clothes. They’d all be in a lockbox inside Easy Hotel until such time as she coughed up the unpaid rent. If the staff hadn’t already taken them home or sold them off with the rest of her belongings. Even her trusty old Mk5 was on the bottom of the Atlantic ocean.
No, she didn’t have much left beyond her immediate assets: junkie chic notwithstanding, she had the body of a goddess and a face that practically begged to be in front of a camera. It was just a matter of using those assets to their full potential.
A bit of make-up took care of the bags, and some nano-enriched eyedrops coloured her sclera a brilliant white, hiding every imperfection. She blinked and blinked until the nanobots drew away from her irises and left her vision clear. Then, with a few final touches to her cheeks and lips, she downed tools and assessed herself in the mirror one last time. This was as good as things were going to get. Her face might not launch a thousand ships, but the figure would definitely be in triple digits.
She stuck out her tongue and made a face at the mirror. Can’t stall them any longer, she thought grumpily. Let’s go strut your stuff.
Gina Hart strode out of that room with her head held high and a projected air of confidence that she didn’t really feel. Every head in the tea house turned to look at her, and she allowed herself a smile as the chatter — mental and verbal — died away at the sight of her. Two dozen people looked at her with a mixture of awe and appreciation, and she liked it a lot more than she probably should. The ones with their third eyes open immediately tried to read her.
She chuckled. Blocking them was as easy as brushing away a swarm of flies, and only a small, distant part of Gina still found that disturbing.
One of Jupiter’s assistants, a small Chinese woman by the name of Mai-Lin, appeared out of the crowd and greeted her warmly. Gina found it hard not to return the feeling. Being in the Network together seemed to create an undeniable connection. Then Mai-Lin pointedly invited Gina for a walk in the garden, giving them a good pretext to head outside.
Most of the eyes followed her out, admiring the curve of her back and the movement of her hips. She stopped for a moment in the doorway, smiled, and winked over her shoulder.
“You know how to get attention,” Mai-Lin said, not unkindly, as the room almost erupted in animated conversation behind her. She led the way to the entrance road where a small black car sat low on the tarmac. The faint purr of electric motors emanated from under its bonnet, punctuated by the sound of feet treading on gravel.
Mahmoud’s van was gone from its parking space. Gina treasured a quiet stab of relief, mingled with regret. At least he was out of it.
“There’s only a few people out there who are still known to trade Spice, most of them centred around the Street. I’ve compiled a list if you want it. Remember, do whatever it takes to get a name or some kind of contact info for their supplier. We’ll be activating the implant on your say-so. It gives off a wireless signal, but it’s faint enough to pass for background activity on a mobile phone. Stick to that story if anyone grills you.”
Gina felt a fragile smile appear out of nowhere. She laughed, “There’s more to me than just a pretty face.”
God, she wanted a cigarette.
“I’ll believe it.” Mai-Lin patted Gina on the shoulder. “Break a leg.”
“Sure,” said Gina. She straightened her clothes, climbed into the car, and let the autodrive putter its way along the congested roads of her City.
It took her to the only place where she knew the score better than anybody. She waited patiently for the Street of Eyes to heave into view.
