Part 8 (2/2)

”Several software systems are down,” the machine told her in a child's voice. ”We've had to inst.i.tute sequential waiting. Like, take a number and wait. If you don't know that one, say yes and you'll get a brochure detailing the process.”

”So they figure no one's going to smash up a subroutine out of frustration if it has a child's voice?”

Konstantin said sourly.

”Don't ask me,” said the machine. ”I just work here.”

”Taliaferro, tell me you're there.”

She heard him give a short laugh. ”I'm here, but why are you there? I told you to exit.”

”I couldn't find the prompt.”

”Why not?”

”I got fl.u.s.tered, I guess.”

A man carrying the upper half of a cyborg body moved past her, squeezing behind what looked like a party of gargoyles. ”Excuse me, I think I'm next,” he said. ”Is this true s.h.i.+te? I've never seen it this bad.”

”Are you still fl.u.s.tered?” Taliaferro demanded.

She felt someone else pa.s.s closely behind her, but when she turned around, there was no one there. ”I don't know what I am,” she muttered.

”Me, neither,” said a featureless placeholder with a musical female voice.

”I did that by accident once,” Konstantin said, gesturing at the placeholder body.

”How tragic. Did you get a credit for the mistake?” Konstantin shrugged.

”Was it another one of these absurd brown-outs?”

”This is a brown-out?”

”I don't know what else you'd call it. Bunch of systems go down, stranding everyone in some transition.”

”Everyone?”

The placeholder gestured at the crowd around them. ”Everyone here, anyway. But why do you think you aren't getting sole, immediate attention from GS? Brown-out, most likely. Or someone's stupid idea of a joke, disabling the programs so we all end up in a waiting room together.”

”Konstantin,” Taliaferro said patiently, ”what are you doing?”

”Investigating,” she told him. ”I'm an investigator.” She paused, looking around the edge of her screen area for the exit prompt. ”Still can't see my exit sign. Is there something wrong with my 'suit?”

There was a pause. ”I've got your pov on my screen,” Taliaferro said slowly, ”and I can see your exit prompt.”

”Where?” Konstantin demanded.

”Call it four o'clock, about.”

Konstantin stared hard at the spot, pulling her video back a step so she could see the entire frame of the headmounted monitor screen. ”I still don't see it. Are you sure?”

”You lose somethin', lady?”

She turned to find a dirty face grinning up at her from the level of her shoulder. Her j.a.panese friend, in one of his kid outfits. Of course. Who else? ”Nothing you can help me with. Go away. Adults only here.” She turned away from him. ”Taliaferro, does this have anything to do with the curse Dervish put on me? Obscuring my exit prompt, I mean.”

”I don't see how,” Taliaferro said.

”Looking for somethin' that oughta be there and ain't?” said the j.a.panese guy, running around to stand in front of her.

”What would you know about it?” Konstantin asked suspiciously.

”How about you come over to our place and we trade some information?”

Konstantin hesitated. ”Will I actually learn anything?”

”Go ahead,” said Taliaferro. ”I'm curious as h.e.l.l myself.”

Her j.a.panese friend was apparently lousy with instant transport coupons. He took her first to a platform at the top of the Empire State Building in post-Apocalyptic Noo Yawk Sitty, where a giant woman in an evening gown was climbing up the side with a toy monkey under her arm. On the ground, a mult.i.tude of people shouted encouragement at her.

”Corny,” said the j.a.panese guy, ”but the tourists never get tired of it.”

”Those are all tourists down there?” Konstantin asked.

”Actually, a lot of them are undercover cops, or they're playing undercover cops, hoping to meet a real one. We can tell the difference.”

”How?”

”Sorry, can't tell you that.” The kid face smirked at her. He had golden eyes now. ”Trade secret.”

”Oh, another one of those software packages that measures statistical characteristics,” Konstantin said knowingly. ”We use those, too, but you have to be careful. Some of those compilers don't screen their sample groups very well. I can tell you which ones to avoid, if you're interested.”

The kid face went from smug to defiant, and the look was so authentically childish that Konstantin wondered if her j.a.panese friend weren't one of those people who were powerless to keep from a.s.suming the ident.i.ty of whatever mask he put on. Suave James Bond gambler, bratty delinquent -- compulsive acting born of a dissatisfaction with one's own ident.i.ty, perhaps? Or just a good undercover man trying not to get caught out. One more subject for her parabola to approach on its way to zero, she thought. ”Anything we use is custom, and all our samples are--” He caught himself and gave her a look she knew she was supposed to wither under. ”Sorry but I have a hard time taking anyone under the age of thirty-five seriously,” Konstantin said, not bothering to suppress her laughter.

Now her friend looked shocked. ”Is that true?”

”No. Just in here.” Konstantin leaned over the safety rail. The giant woman was getting closer. She was a perfect reproduction of a 1930s movie star, but her expression suggested she wasn't having a good time for real. ”We should go, if we're going.”

They walked around the platform to a vending machine that sold cigarettes. Konstantin made a face as the kid fed some coins into a slot and yanked one of the k.n.o.bs.

”Is this artifice absolutely necessary?” she asked as he made a business out of removing the cellophane from the top of the pack and shaking out a cigarette.

”Nah,” he said, holding the cigarette between two fingers as it lit itself. ”I just do it.” He offered her the pack. ”Want one? Oh, sorry, I forgot -- you don't have the right kind of software.” He blew a stream of smoke over her head and then they were standing in a conference room.

Right away, she knew she'd lost Taliaferro. She wasn't sure exactly how she knew, except that the absence of his surveillance was suddenly more palpable to her than his presence had been. Like the loss of a tooth, or-- Her j.a.panese friend had reverted to James Bond type, complete with tuxedo. ”Missing something?” he asked her.

Konstantin sighed. ”My back-up. As a cop, you should be able to relate to that. Let me call my partner.”

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