Oversight Read Free

fumbles in his jacket for a pack of cigarettes. He props the plastic packet on the table.
    Smiling slightly, Nadi eyes the “Banned in the USA!” sticker on the label. “These are worth a lot, you know.”
    “How about you credit me the balance?”
    “We don’t keep those kinds of records, Sammy.”
    Sam points to his head. “Keep one for me up here.”
    Nadi pockets the cigarettes. “You’re a bad man.”
    “I love the way that sounds with your accent,” Sam says, grinning.
    “I hate my accent.”
    “Why?”
    “I just want to fit in, you know?”
    Over at the kitchen window, the cook swats the call bell. “I’ll remember you for a week, Sammy.” Nadi leaves to answer her summons.
    The moment Sam steps outside, notification sounds chirp from his tablet and watch. “Christ.” He bats at his electronics as if beset by bees.
    A Network Services rep replaces Dr. Mako’s face on the flex-screen. The contrite expression on her doe-eyed face looks like botched plastic surgery.
    “At 8:02 p.m. this evening, a high-energy radio frequency burst interrupted network processes in your neighborhood. I have been trying to alert you for fourteen minutes. Full service will be restored shortly.”
    Sam barks into the mic on his tablet. “Marilyn, contact Jacob Gaur using any available protocol. Tell him—”
    “I’m sorry, Sam,” says Marilyn, “but there are no active public streams going into Maerskton. Network Services reports that a high-energy radio frequency burst has interrupted all processes across the publicly accessible spectrum. Do you wish to modify your command?”
    “Scan for shielded nodes in the area.”
    “Do you mean the Maerskton area or your current location?”
    “Maerskton.”
    “Your voice has been recognized. I’m waiting for a capacity check from a San Francisco police dispatch node.”
    A pause. Sam squeezes through the cluster of cars surrounding the diner; they’re parked in any available space—including up on the curb—for lack of legal parking areas. “Come on.”
    “There are three police cruisers capable of transmission in your neighborhood.”
    “Authorize packet relay to any available node in Jacob Gaur’s residence. Accept all charges.”
    “Unable to comply. Devices registered to Jacob Gaur are unresponsive.”
    “Damnit!”
    “Please be more specific.”
    Sam glares at his tablet. “Done. I’m done.”
    “If you’re having trouble with your network connection, why not consider a BigBad Server?”
    Sam finally reaches his bike.
    “BigBad is the only original equipment manufacturer that uses military-grade shielding and redundant quantum processors for—”
    He slides his tablet into his bike’s rear pannier, muffling Marilyn’s pitch, and rams his helmet onto his head. The engine rumbles to life.
    With a twist of the wrist, he roars homeward.
     
    Two police cruisers idle in the street. Their inboard rotors have left the wall of Sam’s container pockmarked by scattered gravel. Red laser wards cordon off Jacob’s conto. Within the beams, Captain Nial Fox and three of his crew are sweeping the area with full-spectrum lights while waiting for the forensic techs. Just outside the heavy metal door of Jacob’s container, Duke stands motionless.
    Sam rushes through the warding beams, tripping the siren.
    The nearest officer menaces Sam with his stun baton.
    Holding up his arms, Sam says, “Jacob Gaur was my friend.”
    Nial strides over, hands in the pockets of his overcoat. “It’s okay. I know him.”
    The other officer withdraws.
    Nodding in gratitude, Sam takes another step toward the container. Nial blocks his way. Sam’s fingers curl into a ball, instinctively as a pill bug.
    Nial stands his ground. He’s a tall man, slightly stooped. He seems somehow liquid, always moving—a side effect of a reflex implant. His thin lips bend downward as if he’s trying to conceal a slice of lemon in his mouth.
    “You’re not going to let me in?”
    Nial shakes