Blank by Emmett Stone

Author:Emmett Stone [Stone, Emmett]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2018-09-06T23:00:00+00:00

18

The essence of the rock-star A.I. led Miranda high into the city, higher than she had ever been allowed. The top ten tiers were restricted—no skytrain docks, no cabs, no blanks—private access only. Proper credentials had been easy enough to fake for two A.I.s and a habitual forger, but the strain on the mask made even the Builder question the wisdom of venturing so far. Their misgivings fell to the side, when Artie clucked at a statue in the center of a town square.

<Dear me,> he said, trying to avert his eyes from the concrete form. <What is that? I want to look away, but its hideousness draws me in.>

Miranda cocked her head to the side. “It’s an angel?” she said.

<Ridiculous,> Artie said. <It’s clearly an attempt at the Atlas motif. Or not. Perhaps a gorilla.>

“Before today I had no idea what a gorilla was. They died out before the war,” Miranda said, trying to shake the textbook images of apes from her mind. “I doubt that’s what the artist was going for.”

<Artist, pah!> Artie spat, clearing the bitterness from his mouth, and Miranda wondered where in her subconscious his spittle had landed.

<It’s clearly a rebar frame supporting three hundred and sixty-two kilograms of carbon concrete,> Carmichael said.

Miranda nodded in agreement, while Artie said, <That settles it, then.> Although she could feel Artie’s attention pulling her eyes back toward the statue, the pull of the DJ A.I. was stronger. Years of chemical excess and prolonged exposure to zero gravity had been less than kind to her joints, but as she came closer to the signal’s source, a long-lost elastic spring returned to her stride.

The pull led her to a storefront, Goldbar’s Executive Tobacco, and, standing across the street from it, she snickered. “Our man’s in there?” But the evidence was undeniable. The place had a visible aura that expanded like a bubble into the street and sang a steady B flat. Miranda walked up to the edge of the bubble, touched it with her fingertips, and saw oranges and tasted purple. “Whoa,” she said. “Trippy.”

<That’s impossible,> Carmichael said in a panicked tone. <Wait. I don’t think this is a good idea.>

<What, you’ve never tasted B flat?> Artie said. <This is beautiful.>

<No, no, no,> Carmichael said. <What’s happening to me?>

<Calm, now,> Artie said. <You’re just going two-dimensional for a while. Enjoy the ride.>

Miranda wanted to look inside herself to see what the aura was doing to her two hitchhikers, but decided to stay physical. “What’s going on in there?” she said.

<That aura,> Artie said. <Oh, oh my. It’s so soft.>

“Artie.”

<Hey.>

“Are you guys stoned? I mean, can you even—” Miranda almost burst out laughing when she heard Carmichael try to imitate the humming B flat.

Across the street, a large black car with tinted windows pulled up in front of the tobacco shop and disgorged a gaggle of chatty teenagers to a steady, repeating uhn-tss, which ceased with the thump of the car door closing. The car pulled away, and the teens disappeared into the shop.

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