Versim Read Free Page A

shaky hand at her mouth. She fumbled with her sunglasses. He helped her. “A hotel.”
    “Four Seasons. I have an account there. They know me.”
    “Won’t work if they know you.”
    He saw a renovated five-story hotel on a busy block of buildings with walk up rentals. “Right here.” The cabbie stopped. Hark looked at Celia. “Please pay the man, ma’am.”
    She fumbled with a small purse on her arm. She handed over a twenty.
    “Cash,” Hark said. “Quaint, but helpful.”
    It only took five minutes for them to book a simple room with a single made bed, a closed half-closet. The thick blinds were drawn. A flatscreen hung from the wall. The place was clean and put together well enough, but cramped.
    Celia walked straight for the tiny bathroom, shut the door, and sobbed.
    Hark closed and locked the hotel room door. He drew the heavy blinds aside and peeked out the window at a brick wall.
    He turned on the TV to a broadcast news station: something about trouble in the Middle East, Egypt in turmoil, Libya tottering, Syria attacking itself, the Arab League working with NATO. All ancient history from the real world and imported into this rendered one. The true technological Ruptures would make such socioeconomic troubles disappear as the developed societies turned their attention to a new dream of enhanced humanity and a new threat of smart machines. A hundred years after the Arab Spring, V-Theory would be on everyone’s lips as rendered worlds in the minds of cognopsychics became real. Hark listened with enough concentration to hear any clues, but didn’t pay much attention.  
    Should have gotten my full memory and all my stuff by now, he thought . Think, Hark. What’s the scenario here? It can’t be a simple run-and-hide narrative. Those standards are played out. The industry is bursting at the seams with them. Come on, your last gig was as a super soldier fighting chaos demons in space. What could this retro V be in an old Manhattan? Maybe a romantic thriller? You keep her safe from some serial killer? But the Voxyprog never, ever advertise. And their name was out in the open where you could see it. Be careful, buddy. She’s attractive, but you don’t know if that’s a good thing or bad thing. Magdalena, where are you ?
    One job they’d left his kit, of all places, under the bed … . He checked. It was empty, as was the closet.  
    Celia opened the door. Her eye makeup was smeared but she still looked like a queen. Hark moved to a desk with a mini-refrigerator. He opened it and withdrew a chilled plastic bottle of water. He waved it at her.
    She shook her head.
    He popped the cap and drank half.
    “The Big Apple.” He smiled. “Nice to be here again.”
    She began shaking. He guided her to the bed. “What’s happening?”
    He settled down next to her, ready for the ‘Big Talk.’ This always happened in one form or another. When principal protagonists first expose themselves to a major conflict, shock always makes things interesting. The best performers are the ones who feel the deepest. He wanted to put his arm around her, not because she was so beautiful, but because he knew she was in this role because she was good, which meant she’d feel the drama deeply and express her feelings well. He looked around again, as if there might be a clue, or a hint of what was coming next. He wanted a full memory update so that he knew who she was and what they were up against. He wanted it soon.
    She managed to control her breathing. “I was supposed to go to my studio. I have a dance session. We hired a new choreographer.”
    “Not today. Sorry, but we’re hunkering down for a little while. Won’t be so bad. I’m a nice guy.” He smiled a big-toothed smile that usually made people feel better.
    She stiffened, looked at him as if he’d just cursed her mother. She inched away.  
    “Who are you again?” She pulled her phone out of her purse. “My phone won’t connect.”
    He frowned.  
    The Sersavant