Organo-Topia by Decker Scott Michael

Author:Decker, Scott Michael [Decker, Scott Michael]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Creativia
Published: 2016-03-09T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter 11

News of the boy's death by nanochine at Plavinas Development Crèche had saturated the neuranet by afternoon. They arrived at the offices of Balozi Neurobiotics in the eastern sector of Crestonia, getting there an hour before closing time, the city so large it couldn't be traversed by magnacar in a single day. They ought to limit the size of the metropolis by the speed of its transportation, he thought.

Three hours in a magnacar made Maris feel old as the hills.

“Profile, Balozi,” Peterson traked. Balozi Neurobiotics bulldozed installments of neuratronics on a mass scale using nanochines. Their encyclopedia of citations had forced the courts to open a new courthouse. They equipped their marketing department personnel with fire extinguishers and friction-free public-relations clothing. The company profit margin seemed immune to fines and lawsuit payouts. Non-disclosure provisions kept their most egregious practices off the neuranet, guerilla cybertactics notwithstanding. The company deployed legions of lobbyists to derail legislative controls, cadres of trade associations to befuddle regulatory oversight, and troupes of think tanks to obfuscate the truth. Fusillades of lawsuits pummeled any belligerent who decided to oppose them. Balozi topped every list of the most successful businesses in the Coalition.

Worse than Sabile Nanobio, Maris thought.

Surrounded by fence, the main Balozi complex sprawled outward and upward in a tangle of architectural twine. They'd imported a pneumatube transport system heavy on infrastructure and light on the feet. Glasma tubes spaghettied between buildings and noodled up their sides. Capsules corpuscled through pneumatubes, like avarice. A corner of the complex was devoted to clandestine government contracts, its building locations blacked out on Peterson's corn. They manufactured brain snakes, neuro-worms, painducers, and infotractors, all the exigencies of governmental preservation, most of the tools available to police interrogators.

“Looks foreboding,” Ilsa said, stepping out of the magnacar, her coif a helmet of blazing blue-blond hair. The hotel staff hadn't exhibited a snit of concern about their sudden changes of appearance.

“No looks about it,” he said, his gaze on the complex. Maris had gone the gray route, a shock of electricity atop his head. He turned to look at her, his hair crackling. “You up to this?”

“Of course. I see that Balozi has a dozen litigations pending against Neuralitics, five involving Net Spec.” The sparkle of an active corn twinkled in her eye.

“They've never won a single case.”

“They keep us so tied up in court, we rarely make a site visit.” She smirked at him. “Special occasion, right?”

“Right.” Maris smirked back. A boy at Plavinas Development would never smirk again.

They stepped to the all-glasma kiosk at the property perimeter, a battery of holocams honing in on them. Ilsa brandished her palmcom, her holobadge scintillating with the agency emblem. “Ilsa Dioniz and Maris Kristupas, Net Spec.” Maris held his up too.

The rent-a-suit in badge and khakis snorted dismissively. “No government beyond this point. Can't you read?” He gestured at a sign with his jumpstick. A blur of lettering cycled through several hundred items before the word “government” populated the space.

“Where would you like that jumpstick, jerkface?” Maris asked.

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