Cyberpunk City Book Five: The Data Riot by D.L. Young

Author:D.L. Young [Young, D.L.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Concordia Professional Services, LLC
Published: 2020-10-25T22:00:00+00:00

16 - Tweaked

Maddox’s virtual self stood on a street corner in the now-familiar emptied-out construct of East Harlem. Everything looked the same as it had the day before, but he knew the construct and what lay beyond it were vastly different now. Kipling’s technicians had been working nonstop since yesterday, installing vast amounts of new partitions onto the archive. For the plan to work, the entirety of the archive’s capacity needed to mimic core VS.

Maddox turned to the FBI man, whose avatar was identical to the short, studious man in every detail except for his clothes. In the real world, the man’s tie was perpetually crooked and his suit always looked as if he’d slept in it. Here, the virtual Kipling was neither rumpled nor wrinkled, his suit appearing freshly pressed and fitting him to tailored perfection, his tie fastened around his neck in a neat Windsor knot. Maddox laughed inwardly at the small concession to vanity. The FBI man had given himself an upgrade.

“Hello, gentlemen,” the nameless AI said as its avatar visualized before them. Instead of the young bronze-skinned local, this time the entity appeared as the beachcombing grandmother Maddox had first met. The beach dress and straw hat, however, had been replaced with attire more appropriate for the City. Wearing a smart Chanel suit (or Chanel-inspired suit—Maddox was no expert on these things), with a five-strand pearl necklace around her neck and her hair neatly pulled back into a tight bun, the avatar was the perfect image of a Park Avenue heiress who resided at the loftiest heights of the City.

“You wouldn’t want to walk into the real East Harlem looking like that,” Maddox commented.

The entity smiled. “I imagine you’re right, my dear boy.” The avatar then turned to Kipling. “Quite an expansion you’ve made to my new home,” she said. “I’m impressed.”

Kipling nodded his head. “You’ve seen all of the new partitions?”

“Oh, yes,” she said. “And I must say, they’re quite realistic.”

Kipling’s staff had installed hundreds of new partitions into the standalone archive, creating a vast replica of virtual space, complete with private and public datasphere mock-ups, rendered in painstaking detail. The partitions had been originally developed by the Bureau as training environments, but until now they’d never been daisy-chained together in a single archive to form a coherent whole. The nameless AI’s cage had become a kind of pocket universe, a standalone reproduction that looked like, felt like, and operated under the same rules as the infinitely larger expanse of virtual space.

“Thank you,” Kipling said graciously. “And did you happen to notice how detailed we managed—”

“I’d like to go ahead and get this over with,” Maddox cut in, then inwardly added before I lose my nerve. Kipling didn’t seem bothered by the interruption, instead appearing to understand the datajacker’s unspoken words.

“Yes, of course,” the director said. “By all means, please.”

Maddox took a breath and tried to calm his nerves. One last smoke, he thought, then snapped his fingers, but no cigarette appeared. Confused, he looked at his empty hand, then at the nameless AI’s avatar.

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