Perion Synthetics Read Free Page A

she asked.
    Cam saw himself reflected in the silver
lenses of her sunglasses. The way they filtered the light turned the world to
grayscale.
    “Ms. Kessler,” said Cam, extending his hand.
    Sava made a feeble attempt at a handshake
and then motioned to her driver.
    Cam watched the man approach the trunk of
Banks’ car. “No,” he told him. “I don’t have any luggage.” Then to Sava, “I
didn’t have time to pack. I only found out I was coming here this morning.”
    “Interesting,” said Sava, over her shoulder.
She waited for the chauffeur to open the rear door of the Nissan for her.
    “How’s that?” Cam asked, familiar with
people who responded with the word interesting when they really meant I
could give a shit .
    Sava didn’t answer until Cam walked around
the car and got in the other side.
    “Because, this has been on my calendar for a
week,” she replied. “But I suppose you Banks Media people are used to shooting
from the hip.”
    So that’s how it was going to be. Cam took a
breath and summoned a professional veneer.
    “I take it you’re not a loyal subscriber of
our feed?”
    The car’s engine growled an answer for her.
    Cam nodded and sat back. The seatbelt
resisted his efforts to buckle it.
    “Was that question directed at me as a
Perion employee or a private citizen?”
    “Private citizen,” said Cam, finally finding
the latch. He tugged on the belt to make sure it would stick.
    “It’s not for me. Banks Media appears to be
in the business of self-promotion rather than any actual news reporting. The
few times I’ve listened in, you were running smear jobs on Benny Coker and the
other media houses.”
    “Do you feed at all?”
    Sava shook her head. “Maybe if I had a nine-to-five
and some time to kill on a commute, but when you work for Perion Synthetics,
there really is no downtime. You’re either working, asleep, or you’re dead. And
even then you have to put in a request two weeks in advance.”
    Outside, the empty California desert
sizzled. A sea of shriveled Joshua trees stretched to the horizon.
    “You have some time to kill now,” said Cam.
    “This is an anomaly. I hardly ever get out
of the PC—there’s really no need to. The city was designed to be a closed
ecosystem with every amenity provided. It keeps people where the action is
instead of traipsing through the cacti.”
    Cam pulled out his phone and typed traipsing
through the cacti at the top of a new file.
    “Do you mind if I record our conversation?”
His sliver had started recording the second he stepped out of Banks’ car, but
it was always polite to ask.
    “Sure,” said Sava, “but our legal team will
have to approve anything that goes out. So unless I’m saying something on the
record, in an official capacity, it’s probably not worth writing down.”
    “Ah, but it’s your unofficial perspective
that I’m after,” replied Cam. “That’s all we really have, right? The world is
observed through human eyes, so my job doesn’t end at reporting just the facts.
I have to show how those facts affect real people.”
    Sava removed her sunglasses. For the first
time, Cam made the connection between the woman sitting in front of him and the
photos from her dossier. It was in her eyes, their aliveness . Cam shook
his head, tried to think of a better word.
    “You sound like one of those touchy-feely
reporters who do sappy human interest stories on the evening news. You know,
the ones about some kid with a terrible disease whose parents can’t afford the
treatment?”
    “I’m familiar,” said Cam. “I actually feed a
lot of those.”
    “Ah, so you are one of those people.”
    “Proudly.”
    Cam’s eyes drifted to the front of the car.
He noticed the chauffeur was talking to an invisible partner, maybe through a
headset in his ear. His voice was muted by the thin pane of plexiglass
bisecting the car.
    “And who is that?” asked Cam, pointing to
the driver.
    “He’s the chauffeur. Do you really