Cyber Dreams 2.8 - Entanglement (Patreon)

Hi Everyone,

Thanks for sticking with me into the new year! Happy New Year! Here's a little interlude chapter. Let me know what you think. :)

PLEASE READ:

You'll note something funny in this chapter: Rachel calls Juliet "January." I decided to go back through the chapters of book two and talk about how Juliet finally decided she should be operating with a handle. Angel and her friends, who already know her as Juliet, will continue to do so, but in her operations and with Temo, she's known as January. Here's the text where this is explained in chapter 2.1:

Juliet smiled as she read the message, noting Temo’s use of her new handle. When she’d returned from Tucson after rescuing Ghoul, she’d decided it was time to stop taking unnecessary risks, even small ones like operating under her actual first name. She’d brainstormed for hours, trying to think of a handle, wishing she’d earned one already. The closest she could think of was “Lucky” because of how Ghoul used to call her that, but she decided it wasn’t right for her; it made her think of a pet.

Angel had suggested a lucky number or date, which had led Juliet to January—it wasn’t precisely lucky, but it was the month in which she’d been born, and she liked the sound of it. She figured it would do well enough until she’d earned a better handle. Looking over the note again, she said, “Well, I, for one, am happy not to go in packing weapons; it kinda portends a peaceful resolution, don’t you think?”

“That’s right,” Win said, watching as Juliet pulled the rifle into her shoulder, eye peering through the powerful scope. “Just keep it tight like that; she’s gonna buck more than you might be used to.”

“‘Kay,” Juliet breathed, carefully moving the crosshairs in the scope’s display to hover over the old bottle Win had set up on top of the half-crumbled block wall some two-hundred yards distant.

“Now, if you’re right about your PAI’s capabilities, it should be able to help you zero the scope, adjusting for wind, elevation, parallax, all that stuff. It used to be a hell of a lot harder in the old days.”

“I’ve made the adjustments, Juliet. This scope is very sensitive; Hot Mustard spent a lot of money on it.”

“When you’re sure you’re set, very slowly exhale and gently squeeze that trigger. Try not to think about the gun firing. Some people hold their breath, but I’ve always learned to exhale. See how it works for . . .” he was cut off as the rifle barked a loud *bang*, and Juliet whooped as the bottle shattered. “Sheeyit! First try?” Win laughed and jostled her shoulder. He was sitting on the blanket next to where Juliet lay, and she looked up at him with a wide smile.

“Hey, I couldn’t have done it without a good teacher and a very nice rifle. But damn! My shoulder’s gonna be bruised.”

“Yeah,” Win laughed, “Actually, the rifle’s old as the hills—was my granddad’s. The optics, though, they cost me a pretty penny.”

“Well, I like it,” Juliet said, rolling to her side so she leaned on one elbow, brushing some hair out of her face. “So, what do I do to load another round?”

“Right,” Win said, leaning forward to grab the front of the rifle with one hand, then he pulled the bolt back with a smooth clicking action and drove it forward. The empty brass casing flipped out onto the blanket, and he said, “That’s that.”

“Why not an automatic?”

“Oh, they have beautiful semi-automatic rifles these days, but the bolt action holds a special place for old shooters like me; we’re superstitious about parts failing or the automatic action jostling the gun and throwing us off by a hair. A hair at a thousand meters can make a big difference.”

Juliet leaned forward and lined up the sights on another bottle, trusting Angel to make her adjustments, and then she slowly let her breath leak out between her lips, gently squeezing the trigger. This time, when the report sounded, and the rifle bucked into her shoulder, she was ready for it, but the bullet missed the bottle, kicking a cloud of gray concrete dust up. “Hey!”

“Hah, that’s ‘cause you were anticipating that kick. Bet you were pulling the rifle into your shoulder a bit too hard, there, darlin’. Try again, but don’t think too much about your shoulder, just hold the rifle snug and accept you’re gonna have a bruise tomorrow.”

“Okay,” Juliet said, reaching up to pull the bolt back, she did it too slowly, and the cartridge didn’t eject cleanly. Win reached forward and grabbed onto the bolt over her hand and jerked it back and forth a little until the cartridge came free; then he showed her how to yank it back and drive it forward—it moved more stiffly than she’d expected. His hand on hers was warm and rough, and she couldn’t help the little electric thrill that ran through her at the touch. “Thanks,” she said when he backed off, the rifle ready to shoot.

This time, she pulled the rifle snugly to her shoulder but was careful not to hold it too tightly. Once again, she let her breath slip out, slow and steady, and squeezed the trigger, eyes on the target, trying to trick her brain into avoiding thinking about the shot. When the gun barked and the glass shattered, it was almost a surprise. “Yes!”

“We got ourselves a natural here,” Win announced to the empty, deserted parking lot. They’d driven an hour into the ABZ east of Phoenix and hadn’t seen anyone, not even scavs, within miles of the old, half-collapsed box store.

After they shot up a couple dozen more targets, burning through Win’s supply of self-loaded .308 cartridges, they stopped to eat the lunch they’d packed; sandwiches Win had made and potato salad and coleslaw that Juliet had picked up from Benji’s diner.

“Damn, but this is good slaw!” Win said around a mouthful, some of the dressing dribbling down his chin. Juliet laughed and reached forward to wipe it off, enjoying how his rough stubble scraped at her thumb. “Oh, jeez. My momma always told me to slow down when I eat. Said I’d never impress a girl by finishing my plate before she’d had time to take a bite.”

“Your momma sounds like a smart lady.” Juliet made a show of taking a huge bite of her sandwich, struggling to keep her lips closed while she chewed it. Win’s eyes bugged out, and she had to hold a hand over her mouth to keep from spitting it out as laughter bubbled up out of her.

“My kind of lady!” As Juliet’s laughter tapered off and she swallowed her bite with a visible effort, he asked, “So? You decide to take the job?”

“Uh,” Juliet said, wiping at her mouth with a paper napkin, “I don’t think they’re going to offer it to me. It’s been two days with no word.”

“Well, maybe they just have a lot of T’s to cross and I’s to dot. I bet you’ll hear something tonight. If they do, what ya think you’ll say?”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence. I’ve thought about it a lot, and I’ll probably accept it, but I have some stipulations they might not go for. The job calls for some . . . augmentation; I think I’ll insist that my doctor do the work. Sorry,” she shrugged, “I can’t really say more about it.” When Win shrugged, she continued, “Hey, since we’re asking each other questions, tell me about your hair. Why the pink?”

“You don’t like it?” Win asked, with a laugh, reaching up to brush it back. “I was thinking about a change; it’s been a while. What would you pick? Blue? Black?”

“Well, it’s not that I don’t like it,” Juliet said, suddenly feeling like a jerk, “I was just curious. I mean, you don’t wear flamboyant clothes, and I can’t see any mods on your body, so it kinda stands out, that’s all. What’s your natural hair color?”

“Oh, kind of a sandy brown. It’s a little embarrassing, but I did the hair to impress a girl, and I’ve just kinda grown used to it.”

“Really?” Juliet laughed. “Tell me about this woman that had such a hold on you.”

“Yasmin,” Win said wistfully. “She really messed me up for a while. I met her through a friend, and she was into clubs and stuff, told me my hair was a bit boring and dyed it for me. Tell you the truth; I’m still not really over her.” His voice had grown rather somber, and he looked down while he spoke, and Juliet suddenly felt lost for words, wishing she’d kept her mouth shut.

“Jeeze, Win,” she said, leaning forward to take his hand. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to turn the conversation so dreary. If you’re trying to get over a girl, though, I recommend not keeping your hair the way she liked it. I mean unless you really like it too.”

“Ah, heck, Juliet. That’s my bad. I need to work on my filter.” He squeezed her fingers and smiled, and his greenish-brown eyes twinkled in the afternoon sunlight. The air was remarkably brisk for Arizona, but that was the beauty of the desert; you could enjoy some cool weather a few months of the year when everyone else was buried in snow.

Juliet felt her heart speeding up and that little dizzy, funny feeling you get in the pit of your stomach when romance is in the air, and suddenly she panicked, pulling her hand back and clearing her throat, reaching for her paper plate. “Nice job on the sandwiches,” she said, taking another bite.

“Oh, if there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s sandwiches.” Win smiled, leaning back, clearly not wanting to make an issue of her sudden retreat.

They finished their picnic, talked a bit more about their favorite foods, their families, and shooting, and then, like a spell had been broken, they packed up and drove back toward town. Juliet was conflicted about Win—he was sweet, and she found him attractive, but she also wasn’t sure she wanted a relationship right then, and that was, in her mind, the reason she’d backed off and moved the conversation to more surface topics.

For his part, Win seemed fine, keeping things relaxed, and she supposed it made sense if he really wasn’t over his last girlfriend yet. Maybe he didn’t want Juliet to be his rebound or something. In any case, they ended the “date” with a hug outside Win’s truck when he dropped her off at the trailer park. Juliet squeezed him warmly, pressing into his tall, lanky, but firmly muscled chest, and when they parted, she looked into his eyes and said, “I had a lot of fun today, Win. Thank you for everything.”

“Yeah, me too, Juliet. Me too. Talk to you soon?”

“‘Course you will. I’ll call you if I hear anything about that job; otherwise, maybe we can do something else together soon.”

As Juliet made her way through the park to her trailer, Angel surprised her by asking, “Juliet, do you feel strange about Hot Mustard—Win?”

“What do you mean, Angel?”

“I noticed you exhibiting some mating behaviors, but I’m curious why you don’t couple with him.”

“Oh my god!” Juliet laughed aloud. She was trying to decide how to respond to Angel when one of the women that lived in a trailer one lane up from hers called out.

“Juliet! Oh, Juliet! Could I ask you a question?” The speaker was Mrs. Burgess, a woman who had to be in her eighties. She always wore a floral print, pullover dress and had tightly permed gray hair.

“Yes, Mrs. Burgess?” Juliet said, walking over, relieved to have her conversation with Angel interrupted.

“I know you had some work done on your trailer, a water heater, and a shower upgrade. Isn’t that right? Can you tell me a little bit about it? I think this sani-spray is bad for my skin. Look! Look how thin my skin is!” She held up her arm, and Juliet saw it covered with little purple bruises and several scabs. “I just bump into the counter or touch one of my rose bushes, and, whamo! Another bruise!”

“Oh, gosh, that looks painful, Mrs. Burgess. Well, I can forward the contractor’s information to you. Would you like that?”

“Yes, dear, but my budget is quite limited. Was it very expensive?”

“Not terribly, but my water bill is close to the same as my rent payment every month, I’m sorry to say.”

“Oh dear, oh dear. What’s the world come to? I thought we’d solved all that climate business with those terraforming doodads.”

“Um, yeah. Between you and me, Mrs. Burgess, I think it’s a combination of some things. The terraforming installations are near the oceans, and I think they’re supposed to take a few more decades to really clean up the air and get our temperatures under control globally. But,” Juliet leaned closer and lowered her voice, “I also think the corpos got used to collecting big water payments, and they won’t let that go anytime soon, even as clean water grows more plentiful.”

“Those bastards,” the, usually sweet, old lady hissed, and Juliet had to fight to keep her face straight.

“Anyway,” Juliet said, waving and continuing on her way, “I’ll send you the contractor’s information.”

“Thank you, dear.”

“Juliet,” Angel said suddenly, a note of excitement in her voice, “You’re receiving an encrypted call from Rachel Dowdall.”

“Answer!” Juliet said, hurrying over the last dozen feet to her trailer, pressing her thumb to the bio-lock, and hopping up the short flight of steps. A window appeared in her view with Rachel’s face, perfectly smooth skin, professionally done makeup and hair, and a smile that seemed friendly but didn’t convey any warmth.

“Hello, January. I’m very sorry it took us so long to get back to you—we’ve had quite a full plate the last few days.” Rachel’s tone was friendly, and her blue eyes squinted with an almost chagrined look, the effect of which was to put Juliet at ease. As she realized this, Juliet smiled, and it felt a little forced—this woman was a pro.

“Hi, Mrs. Dowdall. Thanks for getting back to me.”

“Rachel is fine, January. Tell me, do you have any plans this coming Monday?” Rachel’s voice brimmed with excitement, and Juliet knew she felt like she was delivering some highly anticipated news. Juliet felt her sincerity, and her smile began to feel less forced; she was excited, despite her reservations.

“Before I make a fool of myself,” she said, unable to keep a tremor out of her voice, “you’re offering me the operation, right?”

“Yes! Our inside source tipped us off that Grave will be posting the positions for their new program at the end of next week, and we’d like to have you ready and briefed before then. Assuming you’re still interested, we’d like to conduct your surgeries on Monday.”

“Rachel, I’m thrilled that you’re offering me the position. I really am, and I’m willing to move forward with you, but I have some reservations and a stipulation.”

To her credit, Rachel’s enthusiastic expression only faltered for a fraction of a second, but when her smile returned, it wasn’t reflected in her eyes. “Oh? We have some flexibility, but there are certain non-negotiable aspects of the operation . . .”

“I’m not asking you to change how the operation goes or anything that I need to do to get ready; it’s just that I’ve had some bad experiences in the past and would prefer to have a doctor I trust conduct the surgeries. She’s local and very competent, and I’ve already sent her messages confirming her availability. Don’t worry—I haven’t, and won’t, reveal anything about the operation.”

“I . . .” Rachel frowned, and Juliet could see the wheels spinning behind her eyes, and then she nodded. “I think we can arrange that. One of us can meet you at the doctor’s office with the implants and specifications. It might be better, in fact. We’re running into some logistics issues with the temporary operating theater we’re trying to set up in the suite here.”

“Thank you,” Juliet said, and the sincerity in her voice brought Rachel’s smile back.

“You’re welcome, January. I can’t say I blame you—you don’t know us beyond what your fixer might have told you. Going under the knife in a hotel room with a bunch of strangers would be unnerving to anyone.”

“I’m glad you understand. Shall I let my doctor know we’ll be at her place on Monday? What time?”

“The earliest availability. Please message me with the location and time; I’m going to send the contract your way. Review it and send it back with your operator's signature before the end of the day tomorrow. Will that be all right?”

“Yes, of course; I’ll probably get it back to you today.”

“Great! I’m looking forward to working with you, January. Please stay available over the weekend in case something comes up.”

“I will. Thank you again, Rachel.”

“You’re very welcome,” she replied, and then the connection cut out.

“Well, that went a lot better than I feared,” Juliet said, moving to her fridge to see if she had any beer.

“Are you going to celebrate? Perhaps you should invite Win for a drink . . .”

“Angel! Cut it out, please!” Juliet couldn’t help laughing at the PAI’s attempts at matchmaking.

“If not Win, maybe Honey would like to spend the evening with you.”

“Oh. My. Gosh. Angel! I just want to relax, okay? Are you worried about my mental state or something? I’m fine! Didn’t I just spend the day shooting and laughing with Win?”

“Many of the contemporary entertainment vid series I’ve been perusing seem to indicate that people your age spend a large percentage of their lives with friends and have sexual encounters on a frequent basis.”

Juliet took a beer out of the fridge, closed it, and, gripping both sides of the appliance, slowly, repeatedly banged her forehead against the plasteel exterior—not hard, but she hoped the thumping sounds would be enough to make a point.

“I’m sorry, Juliet! I want you to be happy and fulfill your biological desires.”

“I’m happy, Angel. I know you mean well, but let’s chill, okay? I have the weekend to hang with friends; right now, I want to drink a cold beer, send a message to Doctor Murphy and then watch some vids. I’m tired, and we have practice in the morning!”

“I understand. I’m excited for you to take this new job. I think it will be a fantastic growth opportunity, and there’s also the benefit of acquiring free cybernetic gear. I’m quite confident that I’ll be able to repurpose the DNA spoofing implants to reflect any number of false identities in the future.”

“I know, I know. That was something I thought about too. If I’m ever going to leave the planet and not raise red flags with my identity, I’ll need something like what they’re giving me, don’t you think?”

“Depending on the type of passage you purchase, the implants could be helpful, yes.”

“Angel, I still want to see more cities. I still want to visit the colonized moons and the dome colonies, but I’m starting to feel sad about leaving here. I think, to answer your earlier question,” Juliet paused as she sat down on the couch, took a long pull of her beer, and then continued, “the reason I’m not trying hard to push things with Mustard or anyone else is that in the back of my mind I view all of this as temporary.”

“I . . . understand, Juliet. You don’t wish to become entangled with emotional relationships from which you’ll have to extricate yourself in a relatively short time.”

“Yeah, I guess so.” Juliet frowned, leaned back into the couch cushion, and took another drink. She hadn’t eaten anything other than the little picnic lunch that day, and the beer was already making her nose tingle. “Angel, let’s find something fun to watch. Something kind of romantic.”