22 – Evangeline

  The autosurgeon was fast and sure-handed, and Hector hardly had time for reflexive tears to form as needles and blades descended. A microblade opened a clean channel to his natural lens, and a needle followed, flooding his eye with billions of task-loaded nanites. They went to work at once—replacing retinal tissue with a thin lattice of synthetic mech-cells, re-threading the iris into a programmable aperture, and lacing a signal interface through his optic fibers so his AI could talk to the hardware.

  The needle withdrew. Another set of tiny digits slipped in, lifted his lens free, and a second tool seated the new nano-molecular one with a soft, wet click. A final injection of healing nanites, then a quick antiseptic mist, and the eye was done. All told, it took less than a minute. The clamps released, Hector blinked, and the autosurgeon moved to his other eye.

  He felt his hands gripping the cold stainless bed, heard the squeak of his sweat-damp fingers sliding along it, but he didn’t let up; he had nervous energy to release. When the second eye was done, Pete’s face loomed over him as he peered into his eyes with a set of scope-like optics.

  “Looks good. I’d say the nanites will be done with their part in about thirty minutes. The documentation on the augment said twenty minutes to an hour, so that’s on track. The autosurgeon encoded the biometrics from the little data chip.” He grinned, squeezing Hector’s shoulder. “Ready for the ears?”

  Fifteen minutes later, the autosurgeon withdrew its blood-tinged digits, and Pete took a minute to swab out Hector’s ears with antiseptic before handing him a pair of headphones. His mouth moved, but no words came out, and Hector narrowed his eyes, growling, “I can hear Orin breathing, so quit fucking around.”

  Pete chuckled and shrugged. “Come on! It was funny…” When Hector didn’t laugh, he sighed and gestured to the headphones. “Put those on and we’ll test the full range.”

  Hector started to comply, but then a soft, feminine voice threaded through his thoughts:

  //Thank you, Hector. It’s good to experience the material world again. As for his hearing test, you can dispense with that. I’ve run diagnostics on the new augments, and everything is optimal.//

  It was his aura system or, more accurately, the AI that made it work, Evangeline.

  Good to hear you again, Evie. How about the net link? Now that his auditory and visual nerve bundles were laced with nanites, Evie had a way of properly communicating with him. Prior to that, she’d been limited to the neurodeck’s ability to push messages straight into his occipital cortex, like subtitles burned onto the inside of his skull.

  //Up and running. Working on these protocols. Things have changed since you were last awake.//

  Hector handed the headset back to Pete. “No need.” He pushed himself into a sitting position, happy to feel that the earlier nanite infusion was already working; his muscles and joints were noticeably less sore.

  “Um…” Pete glanced over at Orin. “Hey, I know you can hear and stuff, but there’s a wide range of functions we still ought to test because—”

  “Everything’s working.” Hector nodded to Pete, and he slid off the table. “Good job.”

  Evie, working on an AUI for me?

  //Of course; just let me get this network situation sorted; I’d like to add a map and some other online functionality.//

  “Well,” Pete replied with a shrug, “it’s your gear.”

  “Okay, Doc,” Orin said, standing from a plastic chair with a grunt. “How about that money you owe me?”

  While the two settled up, Hector picked up his coat and shrugged into it, already noting that the world was sharper and brighter than before. He wondered if the skin’s eyes hadn’t been twenty-twenty. As he buttoned his coat, he walked over to a small mirror the doc had hanging from a wall, no doubt so people like Hector could look at their new augments. His ears wouldn’t be changed, but his eyes were strikingly different.

  They’d been brown before, but now pale blue stared back at him, and they changed his whole face—brightening it, sharpening it. Even his angry glower looked deeper somehow, as if the lighter color drew the gaze into the endless rings and whorls. Leaning close, he saw pinpricks of light chasing the edges of his irises—Evie tuning his AUI.

  This the default setting for the irises?

  //No. I changed them while you were putting on your coat; thought you might want at least a piece of you to look like your old self.//

  “Hmph.” Hector brushed his hair back and then walked to the door. He paused for a moment, glancing at Orin. “Heading out.”

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  “Hey,” Orin said, clapping Pete on the shoulder as he hurried over, “wait up.”

  Hector opened the door, then he remembered that, while he might be on a mission that would end with his demise, it didn’t mean other people didn’t matter—didn’t have their own ends. He looked back at Pete and said, “Thanks, Doc.”

  “Yeah, sure, Hector. See you around, right?”

  He nodded and then slipped into the corridor. While he walked, Orin hurried to his side, so he looked up at the big man, making eye contact. “Not heading back to the club today.”

  “Oh, yeah?”

  “Gotta keep my head down for a couple of days.”

  Orin narrowed his eyes. “Why’s that?”

  Hector tapped the corner of his eye. “Gotta wait for my new ID to hit the net.”

  “Ah, man.” Orin shook his head, chuckling. “You don’t gotta worry about PKs scanning you around this neighborhood. Just stay clear of the big public transit hubs and stuff.”

  By then, they’d returned to the little waiting area, and Hector picked up his scarf; he left the oversized hoodie on the chair. “Gonna head home for now.”

  Orin glanced at Raven, then grabbed Hector’s shoulder. It wasn’t rough, and he didn’t mean anything by it, so Hector didn’t stiffen. He turned to regard the man, arching an eyebrow. “Do you think you can help me with Raven’s problem? I mean, tomorrow.”

  Hector glanced at the girl, noting the way her violet eyes had widened at her mention. He looked back at Orin. “Why?”

  “Because if I’m going to go set Taurus Crew straight, I might need a hand, and I’d rather not take one of Grando’s boys. I mean, I kind of want to do it off the books. You follow me?”

  A dozen thoughts ran through Hector’s mind—a dozen denials. He brushed them aside and focused on the positives: Orin would owe him one, and he’d probably get to crack some skulls and collect some potentia. “Yeah.” Orin grinned, glancing at Raven, but then Hector added, “After I talk to Grando. He owes me some answers.”

  Orin nodded, still grinning, and held out a meaty paw. Hector liked something about the big bruiser, so he gripped his hand. After a moment, he let go, wrapped his scarf around his neck, and left the clinic. Orin stayed back, probably to flirt with the girl.

  He was halfway through the gym, working through the crowd toward the open bay door, when his vision flickered and little lines of amber static ran through it.

  //I’m initiating your AUI.//

  It was nice to have Evie talking to him again—so much better than just the simple, default system messages she could push through the neurodeck. He’d forgotten what it was like to have her constant companionship, and it honestly felt like a small part of him had been restored; some tension and maybe some of his smoldering angst eased out of his neck and shoulders.

  The flickering amber lines steadied and sharpened and, after just a few seconds, he had his old AUI back: clock, mini-map, highlights and labels for known people, contact directory, data windows, and a half dozen other elements. Most of them were minimized so his view was clean, but seeing them there in the corners of his vision felt like seeing old friends that he’d forgotten were missing.

  //You’re wondering what else you’ve forgotten.//

  How long ’til you’re done?

  In response, Evie sent him a general aura system update:

  //Reconstruction status: 75.3% of corrupted data recovered. Projected permanent loss: 6.5%. Estimated completion time: 70 hours, 11 minutes.//

  Looks like you found another half a percent.

  //These are just estimates; memories and thought patterns are very complex things, especially when you’re talking about an entire lifetime of them.//

  Hector grunted his acknowledgment and then slipped out through the blowing heater fans into the cold, drizzling weather of the city. He glanced at his new mini-map, pleased to see that Evie had already outlined a walking path for him back to Lemon’s. Hands in pockets, head down with the scarf around his face, he started walking.

  As he went, he tried to get some more information out of Evie.

  You’re connected now, right?

  //To the city net. The greater planetary net requires some credentials. You can purchase access, but—//

  How many bits are on this thing? Hector held up his ring.

  //It’s not equipped with any sort of wireless protocol. You’ll need to get a balance, and then I can keep track.//

  Hector kept walking, but he saw the noodle shop where he and Lemon had stopped on the first day of his new life. He walked over and waited in the queue for a few minutes. When he reached the counter, he held up his ring. “I need to see my balance before I order.”

  The man taking orders, old and ill-tempered, grumbled but pointed to the shiny chrome circle on his counter. “Tap.” Hector tapped his ring on the reader, and the man glanced to the side before saying, “Twelve-eighteen.”

  “Twelve bits?”

  “Twelve hundred, loco. You ordering?”

  Hector smiled crookedly, pleased that his mental math had been so far off. He’d thought he was down to his last hundred or so. With a sigh, he looked at the menu and listed off a half-dozen dishes, ensuring he got enough to share with Lemon. After he paid, Evie sent him a balance report:

  //Bit-locker (skull ring) balance: 1137.21 bits.//

  With a sack of food in hand, he trudged the rest of the way back to Lemon’s. Foot traffic was light, and for good reason; the storm was really setting in. The wind, laden with icy rain, stung his scalp, the part of his face not covered by the scarf, and his hands as he alternated which one held the bag. By the time he pressed a shivering thumb against the exterior door panel of Lemon’s apartment building, he was numb from the cold. When she opened her apartment and ushered him in, he could see the relief and perhaps a hint of irritation in her eyes.

  Whatever she was thinking or feeling, all she said was, “Oh! You got food.”

  Hector nodded and set the sack on the coffee table. “No drinks, though.”

  “I have beer, and I ordered a delivery—electrolytes and stuff to cook.” She looked at the sack of noodle containers filling her apartment with their aroma, and shrugged. “I’ll cook tomorrow.”

  Hector smiled and unwound his scarf. “Nasty out there.”

  She’d had enough of playing cool. Hands on hips, she asked, “Are you going to tell me what happened? PKs were running all over the bazaar!”

  He pulled off his coat and sat on the couch. “Someone wants Paul Chevalier.” He gestured to himself.

  Lemon stared at him for a moment, then her eyes widened and she exclaimed, “Your eyes!”

  Despite himself, Hector grinned. “Stopped at Pete’s.”

  “I take it you got away clean from the PKs?”

  He nodded, leaning forward to open the sack and lift out one of the warm soup containers. “All clear. Let’s eat.”