Chapter 1
Switch and gRazer
November 6, Tuesday afternoon
“Hackers broke into the US National Parks infotainment network and hijacked the AmericaFirst holo extravaganza at Mount Rushmore by projecting giant Mickey Mouse ears on to the presidents’ heads. The notorious hacker collective BLANK took credit for the election day incident, declaring it a BLANKprank art happening. NetPolice say they are following traces left by the hacking and anticipate shutting down the hack at any moment. They expect to be making arrests soon...”
BLANKprank. Kool. Dano turned away from the vidScreen and steadied himself as the streetcar whined to a halt. He usually didn’t pay attention to the brainless sludge of infotainment and adverts dished out on public transit, but this was juice.
I wonder if Audrey’s heard?
He texted her, hit PLAY on his app, and his head filled with last century Rok blasted from a pair of old wireless earpods. He couldn’t afford one of those eyeVid enhanced reality glasses everyone wore, let alone the latest SIMchip jewelry fused to his temple. But he didn’t give a shit. No skin off his back. EyeVids were nerdsville. And SIMchips were fucked up. Yeah, so maybe they looked razz, but a direct net link to your brain? Your brain?! Are you shittin’ me? That messed with your head big time. No fucking way.
* * *
The chip on Audrey’s temple came to life glimmering blue like an aquamarine gemstone. Fresh from her shower, she sat on her bed naked and knock-kneed, drying her long iridescent blond hair with a towel. The info layer in her mind flashed “Dano”. No direct connect, just an ancient icon. gRazers! She read the text and smiled. ‘Juice,’ she responded, ‘love it!’ She thoughtCliked onto her news feed and rode a cascade of reports flashing the story.
“Early exit polls in the American presidential elections are showing Walt Disney Inc. with a solid 62 percent of the vote on the East coast, where polls have closed. We’ll break down the figures a little later. Meanwhile, netPolice eyeTs still haven’t been able to dismantle the hacker program that’s projecting the Mickey Mouse ears on to Mount Rushmore. Apparently a protest by BLANK against the Disney Corporation’s bid for the presidency, the holo projection is run by a morphing fractal that replicates itself whenever it is deleted. Attempts to shut the power off have also been unsuccessful because...”
‘Earth to Audrey...’ A sparkling red icon cut the feed and burst in Audrey’s mind. This time it was Nina.
‘sorry :) forgot; gimme a sec,’ Audrey texted, threw on some underwear, thoughtClicked a link and found herself on the lake. Their lake.
Nina was already there, sitting on a digital dock dangling her legs and wriggling her toes in the spectral water. An unforgiving white light reflected off the waves and over-exposed her face like some faded bleached-out memory dreamt in unnatural technicolour brightness. Audrey and Nina liked meeting here, a first version eyeVid freeware SIMsite. It was now a discarded long forgotten netWorld by-way. No one else remembered the URL. No one else came anymore. It was their private SIMlounge. They’d been hanging here, just the two of them, since they were SIM enraptured kids playing with their very first eyeVids.
* * *
The streetcar doors hissed open. The polite voice suggested he mind his step as Dano alighted into the grey chill of a November afternoon. The doors hissed shut, and the driverless streetcar rumbled off.
Dano hunched his lithe athletic frame, zipped up his worn black leather jacket, and stuck his cold hands into the pockets. He went over to the bus stop and checked the schedule. Crap, just missed it! The next 54 was in half an hour. Might as well walk.
Dano turned up the volume and the Kraut Rok sounds of late Einsturzende filled his head. He made his way along a crumbling sidewalk. It smelled like piss. Grimy mid-last century concrete-panel high-rises lined the street. Bolshy public housing. He knew this kind of ‘hood. He’d grown up in one. People here lived like weeds in the cracks of society, barely surviving on bottomFeeder wages. The sun’s wan reflections in shards of shattered beer and vodka bottles confirmed that it too had turned its back on these parts.
He came to a rusting carcass of a car. Just beyond it a couple of vacant-eyed Razr4Kids strung out on zingers were jerking like zombies to the jackhammer beat of some deathZKunt band. This was their turf. Chill to the menace, Dano crossed the street.
He walked on. FreeGrazing. Yeah, that’s what they called it, you know, just taking it all in, chill to the menace, go with the flow. The stillness in his clear blue eyes was misleading. A deeper look uncovered a gaze that was soulful yet searing, the lucid eyes of someone who sees truth in the void. Dano was a gRazer ‘cause he wanted it Real. Get it? Just stuff coming at him natural and not have some computer-fed SIMulated digital reality screwing around in his thoughts like Switch did. Troglodyte, they called him. You bet.
* * *
“Mickey Mouse ears on Mount Rushmore? I’ll bet BLANK get charged with copyright infringement.” Nina’s pixie nose and the gap in her front teeth didn’t make her look like the gawky chipmunk that she imagined. Nevertheless, they had the effect of tenderizing her somewhat sarcastic mocking personality into something more along the lines of just plain irreverent.
“You mean, is it satire, or is it copyrighted?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, if they catch them, I’m sure that’ll be the least of their problems.”
“Still, things are gonna get weird if a corp gets elected president. I mean, like, who gets the money from stuff like Mickey Mouse T-shirts, the US of A or Walt Disney Inc.?”
“Good question,” Audrey swabbed her hair with a low-res towel. “I still can’t believe it! Do you think they’re really going to pull this off? Elect a corporation as President!? What a joke!”
“It was a joke!” Nina threw her hands up in the air. “The whole draft Mickey Mouse for President began as a bloody TikTok joke that went viral.”
“I know, it’s so bizarre.”
“No kidding. Shows you how crazy things can get in just a year.”
“Yeah,” Audrey shook her head in amazement, “when it comes down to it, Real is a lot stranger than SIM.”
“So, who do you think they are?” Nina asked.
“You mean who started this Mickey Mouse thing? Hell, we don’t even know if it was a human. It could have been some demented AI!”
“No, I mean, who’s BLANK!”
“BLANK? How should I know?” Audrey shrugged her bare shoulders, “for all I know they’re also an AI gone nuts.”
“You think so? How do you know they’re not frustrated corp eyeTs who hate their day job so they get their funzies doing artPranks?”
“I don’t, but eyeTs tend to be seriously nerdy. Sure, they can handle the hack, but I’m not sure they can do art. They’re probably way too geeky for that!”
“Okay, so how about this: they’re totally out there electroWizards, holed up in a loft somewhere, flying on tripTabs and getting their giggles by flipping their finger at the Man.”
“You’re getting romantic here, Nina.”
“So you tell me,” Nina demanded, “who do you think they are?”
“Assuming they’re human? Well, let’s see, whoever they are, they’ve got to be serious hackers, right? So, they’re probably a bunch of cyberpunks who hack banks and download credits when they need money.”
“And do artPranks? I don’t know… I mean I’m not sure cybercriminals are any different from eyeTs when it comes to creativity… how about they’re something like SIM game designers. I mean if you’re a game designer you’ve got to have cyber chops and be creative.”
“Actually, I’ve been thinking about that...”
“About what?”
“About designing a SIMgame.”
“Audrey, I thought you hated SIMgames.”
“Well, okay, not a SIMgame exactly, but a SIM experience. What I’m thinking is that it would be really fuKool to create something where people can get inside each other’s feelings.” Audrey finished drying her hair. “Really get into each other’s feelings.”
“Audrey, what’s the point of that? Aren’t feelings what Real is all about?”
“Nina, in Real you’re only guessing how someone else feels.” Audrey dropped the towel. It pixilated and vanished. She picked up a hairbrush.
“It’s not the same.”
“What’s not the same?”
“SIM and Real. SIM is SIM, meaning simulated. Meaning it’s not real. Sometimes I think you’re trying to avoid Real.”
“Really? And what exactly is Real, anyway?” Audrey began brushing her hair, “can you define it?”
“Let’s see...” Nina thoughtClicked and the chip on her temple glowed ruby red, “according to Oxford, real is defined as ‘existence that is absolute, self-sufficient or objective, and not subject to human decisions or conventions.’”
“But what if that’s all wrong, and Real is completely subjective? Maybe my consciousness is all there is, and this world is something I dreamt up...”
“As in, am I a woman dreaming of a butterfly,” Nina quipped, “or am I a butterfly dreaming I’m a woman?”
“I don’t know about the butterfly,” for a moment Audrey stopped brushing, “but if I had dreamt up a world, it would have been way different from this one.”
“There, see? It’s not you. You didn’t dream it up. You’re off the hook!”
“Well, the point is I don’t know if I’m dreaming, in which case... I mean, it makes you wonder, who’s ‘I’ anyway?”
“Audrey!” Nina buried her face in her hands.
“What?” Audrey’s washed-out image glared at Nina. She resumed brushing. “Anyway, I think I’m more of a SIMtreatment kind of grrrl than a SIMgame designer.”
Nina lifted her head cautiously. “Yeah, I’ll buy that. So, how’s it working out with Dano?”
“What do you mean?”
“The SIMtreatments of course. Aren’t you doing them for his band? What did you think I meant? Are you... ?” Nina gave Audrey a significant look.
“No! Of course not!”
“No? Really? You’re acting awfully defensive.”
“Nina, there’s nothing going on.”
“So you’re not doing the SIMtreatments anymore?”
“I meant nothing, you know, personal. I’m still doing the SIMtreatments,” Audrey finished brushing her hair, “but I don’t know if I can keep it up. The thing is, doing SIM for a gRazer band is a bigger pain in the ass than I thought it would be. Half the time they complain, you know, just ‘cause it’s SIM and they hate that, you know, just because, and if they’re not complaining it’s because they’re not plugged in, so they have no idea what I’m doing.” Audrey sighed. “zKuntin gRazers!”
“Well, what did you expect?”
“I know, I know... I think the rest of them are only going along with it because Dano wants it. I feel a little weird about it, but it’s fun... okay, sometimes.”
“At least they know enough to listen to him!” Nina gazed off into the technicolour dreamscape. “I’ve only seen you guys play a couple of times...”
“That’s ‘cause we’ve only played a couple of times.”
“Yeah, whatever, the point is, your SIM stuff is really good, and Dano, he’s... well, he’s fucking amaaazing... the best damned guitarist I’ve ever heard.”
“Oh, I’m ‘good’ and he’s ‘fucking amaaazing’?”
“Come on Audrey, The eXitTrip are awesome, and the stuff you do works great with their music.” Nina looked into Audrey’s sapphire video eyes. “You guys have something there.”
“Well, thanks, I hope so. It would be nice if we made it, like, so I could make a living out of it.”
“Audrey, you’re in college. Unlike Dano, who’s a school dropout, you have a lot of options.”
“Like what? Like a corp job? Sell my soul ‘cause the whole world is going corpFascist anyway?”
“Audrey, what’s that got to do with anything?”
“It has to do with… well, it is!” Audrey stood up and went to her dresser. In SIM she was hovering, in bra and panties, casting discordant reflections out over the rasterized water. “I mean, look at the USA! First their Supreme Court rules that corporations have the same rights as individuals...” She walked on digital water, a series of freeze-framed steps, back to the dock, with an armful of clothes.
“Audrey, we’ve had this conversation like about a hundred times!”
“Yes, and I was right, wasn’t I? They’re about to elect Walt Disney Inc., for chrissakes!” Audrey pulled a sweater over her head.
“Hey, power to the people!” Nina shrugged. She looked to Audrey for some sign of levity.
Audrey’s head popped out of the sweater. “Yeah, if only.” She slipped into a pair of tights and wriggled them up to her waist. “Disney’s a fucking corp, not the people.”
Nina rolled her eyes. “What’s gotten into you, Audrey? Why is this Mickey Mouse thing bothering you so much? We don’t even live there. What’s really going on?”
Audrey stepped into a skirt, zipped it up, plunked herself back down and cast her eyes over the ripples in the water, absently anticipating the recurring glitch in the repeat. That it was such an outmoded SIM program only added to the nostalgic sentimentality of the place.
“I dunno. You’re right, it’s really bothering me. It feels like the world’s going down the toilet.”
“Oh, Audrey! You’re too young for all this dark shit. Lighten up!”
“I wish I could. Maybe I’m just paranoid.”
“Ya think?” Nina furrowed her brow.
* * *
Dano, out there zoned in music, absentmindedly kicked an old Kofola can as he rounded the corner, the one across from the BillaHypermarket. Graffiti on stained concrete framed looped promo vids—Spam, Batchelors’ Bigga peas, Bimbo bread, Organik cultured steak, Spam, Batchelors’ Bigga peas... Black Sabbath followed Einsturzende, “Paranoid” blasting in his ear pods. Kool. Reality soundtrack. Cams tracked him—cams on buildings, cams on streetlights, cams on drones, cams everywhere transmitting data to algorithms crunching away inside LibertyCorp computers. Non-stop surveillance. Facial recognition. Gait analysis. Security is freedom. Got nothing to hide, got nothing to fear, or so the adverts said. Avoid deviant, mind your own business, and red lights don’t go off. And what’s deviant? Well, only the AI knows, and it changes all the time anyway, depending on an endlessly morphing matrix of inputs and algorithms. But flash deviant and the nanoDrones are all over you in seconds. Yeah, “Paranoid” is Real.
Dano cut across a bleak windswept soccer field. Crabgrass struggled in the toxic dirt and a cold wind stirred up litter and whisked dust about his long brown mop. He passed corroded bleachers and headed for the faded Orangina billboard at the far end. He pulled aside the decaying plastiply advert, squeezed through the rusted wire-mesh, and crossed the railroad tracks into Redcent.
Redcent—in the before days an Industrial Zone, now a crime-infested combatZone populated by the trash society spit out. Redcent because life here isn’t worth a stinking red cent. It’s a rathole of shuttered factories, boarded-up warehouses, dive bars, hardCore clubs, squat brothels, broke-ass rusting cars, shanties…you get the picture. And it’s a poppin’ marketplace. Anything and everything’s available if you’ve got fold. Yeah, fold—paper money that’s supposedly extinct and illegal. Supposedly, but not in places like Redcent. Got fold, it’s yours—printed guns, nano-drones, sexBots, hookers, krokodil, pirated name-brands, pirated software, serial numbers, Chinese killaChips, all yours, buyer beware. Dano was after was deMode—hard to get archaic stuff. Like amplifier tubes. Tommy Gunn had texted that he’d scored some. Kool. Maybe he’d finally get that old Marshall to work.
A disheveled man with rotting teeth and a sandpaper face stumbled out of the pixilating Rolex holo in front of the EZ Money PawnKing and almost plowed into Dano, who did a quick sidestep and avoided a collision. The man swayed precariously. “You look like a nice fella,” he said in an inebriated slur, “so I’m gonna let you in on a secret.” He shoved a finger into Dano’s chest. “You shouldn’t be out here. Word is,” alchohol-fueled breath came down to a whisper, “the shit’s hittin’ the fan today, bad to be out. Come on,” he grabbed Dano’s jacket and pointed at the ghostly martini glass promoting a dive bar halfway down the block. “I just got some fold, I’ll buy you a drink.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a crumpled wad of bills. “I still had a good watch, but these days who gives a shit about the time?” He shoved the bills into Dano’s face. “This’ll keep me going a couple of weeks.”
“Listen, that’s really nice of you, but it’s too early for me.” Truth was, Dano was tempted—go with the flow, that was what freeGrazing was all about—but he had that appointment with Tommy Gunn and he really needed those tubes. “Seriously, thanks, and take care, man.” He patted the wino on the shoulder and walked off with his easy rhythmic gait.
It wasn’t until he got to Zip’s Chow’nStuff, his usual Redcent diner, that Dano noticed. Where the hell is everyone? It suddenly hit him that he hadn’t seen a soul since the wino. He tried the door to Chow’nStuff. Why the fuck is it locked? Above him the Nescafé holoVert steamed, the cup filled, emptied, steamed, and filled again. The lights inside were out, but he peered in and noticed some of the regulars in the shadows. What the hell is going on? Franta, a cigarette hanging over his chin, came to the door and frantically waved like a madman. What? Shit! Dano saw the reflection on the glass door. He spun around. This isn’t fucking Real! This is crazy deepFreak! Right there in front of him seethed a swarm of insect-sized nanoDrones. Adrenaline kicked in and his amped-up heart beat like the bass in his earpods. Had he slipped into a deathZKunt SIM run by some asshole Switch? But when had the slip happened? When he zoned out? This had to be SIM. His soundtrack kicked into “Die! Die! Die!” Way juice if he was doing SIM, way not otherwise.
“Freeze!”
What the—? The barked command crashed in on him. SIM or Real? Input overload. Fuck it, I’m loosing juice! There’s no one there! Then Dano noticed the oddly undulating refracting air, like a mirage on a steamy hot day. Shit! Cloaking! Before he could deal, they materialized. Three black-clad LibertyCorp operatives flashedIn and pointed assault rifles straight at his head.
“On your knees, NOW!” The voice, shit man, that sound! “Hands behind the head, elbows out!” Authority amplified, vPrint altered, and broadcast directly into his app. It cut right through “Die! Die! Die!” and burst inside his brain. Dano didn’t argue. Trembling, terrified, he did exactly as he was told.
“We have a positive drone scan here. 62% on the TPF.” Terrorist Profile Matrix.
“Affirmative. ID and TPF logged in. Van ETA thirty-six seconds.”
Damn, this was some serious SIM he was in. Kneeling, shaking, Dano, despite himself, despite his best efforts to stay kool, was scared shitless. Rough hands brutally twisted his arms and cuffed his wrists behind his back. Dano grimmaced in pain. Fuck, that hurts! A black LibertyCorp van pulled up. Like an irritated wasp, a nanoDrone buzzed out of the swarm and stung his neck, injecting a potent tranquilizer. The world immediately melted away and Dano drifted off to another nightmare, maybe another SIM, where an insane electoWizard danced on naked neurons slowly oozing out of his brain.
* * *
“Ow!” Audrey rubbed the back of her neck. “I just got this weird pain.”
“Probably stress from all your crazy paranoia. Look, not to change the subject or anything,” Nina cocked her head, “but are you joining us at the Ophidian Thursday night? Anton put you on the list. It’s a SIM feature for the Le Monde Sunday Supplement, you know, French fashion ideas for the holidays or something.”
“I don’t know, I have to study. It’s exam time.”
“C’mon, you have to! It’s Paris. Besides Anton and his friends are going. That really handsome French architect might be there. I think he likes you.”
“Yeah, handsome in SIM. He’s probably some disgusting eighty-year-old perv in Real.”
“No way! He’s a friend of Anton’s. Besides, an eighty-year-old perv would select an off-the-shelf classic handsome. Your French admirer has that imperfect weathered look.”
“You don’t think he’s...” Audrey uploaded a selection of hunky avatars from the Avatopia website, and chose “... Rugged Individualist Avatar version 3.2?” The life-like hunk expanded to quarter scale, its cutting-edge high-res features contrasting sharply with the antiquated low-res generated by the eyeVid freeware.
“Nah... this avatar’s not, I dunno, individual enough? You know, it has no real character. Besides, your admirer’s not so beefy.”
“Okay, how about...” Audrey switched the Avatopia software to custom mode. With a flick of her hand she slimmed the avatar down, raised the cheekbones, and sculpted the jaw.
“Uh-uh. See the eyes? They’re, like, dead. Lifeless. His are kind and intelligent. You can’t fake those.”
“Not even if I...” Audrey shadowed the eyes and put a little sparkly highlight on the iris.
“No! See? Not so easy.”
“Well, you can create an algorithm from scans of a real life person and...”
“Audrey, that would be really expensive. He couldn’t afford it.”
“How do you know? Besides, if you’re so interested, why don’t you make a play for him?”
“I would if he was taller.”
“Taller? He’s as tall as you. What am I saying? He’s an avatar. You have no idea how tall he really is.”
“Yeah, well, men never opt for shorter. Only taller.”
“Men? But you might shave a couple of centimeters off your avatar?”
“Not really. I don’t want to be a shocking, towering surprise when we actually meet in Real. I want a man who makes me feel petite.”
“Petite?” Audrey asked dubiously. “You’re over 1.85 meters tall and you want to feel petite? Good luck with that. Do you realize that you’re ruling out ninety nine point nine nine nine percent of the male population?”
“So what if I am? And what are you holding out for?”
“I guess someone I can trust.”
“Why don’t you think you can trust Anton’s friend? Just because he’s French?”
“Well, yeah...”
“Come on, you don’t even know him. Why not give him a chance?”
“Because he’s got a cleft chin. Okay, his avatar does, like this.” Audrey modeled a cleft onto hunk avatar 3.2’s chin. “And you know what they say, ‘never trust an avatar with a cleft chin.’”
“Oh, right. Are you sure it’s not ‘Never trust an avatar with unruly sandy brown hair’?” Nina asked.
“Yeah, damned right it is,” Audrey giggled, “that, and a sexy smile.” She curved 3.2’s lips.
“Or a perfect body?”
“Mmm...” she spun the avatar around, “with a tight little ass.”
“So you’re coming?”
“I’m not coming just to fevR at a really hot avatar... and if I really wanted to, I could create my own.”
“Audrey, you’re sick. That’s not the same thing. C’mon! It would be good for you. You’re getting way too serious.”
“Oh, all right. Look, I should get going. I have to dump a SIMfile into Dano’s app.” Audrey’s voice flattened sarcastically when she said the word “app.” “That is, if it fits. gRazers! What time Thursday?”
“Eight.”
“Okay. Send me the link. Bye.”
The dock and the lake and the technicolour landscape slowly dissolved. Audrey opened her eyes and once again found herself on her sofa. She was dressed. Her hair was dry.