Log 1.12

"Last question," I asked Pig McGee, "How did the zombie know how to go after your boss?"

He gaped at me like a fish. Did he really think I would let him escape Demi's tender neglect?

"I... I'm not sure..." Briggs said.

That was a much different answer than 'I don't know.'

"Guess," I commanded.

He continued to flap his lips for a moment. "The dragon... the voice I talked to sent over a packet. I uploaded it to the dragon. That might have been what did it..."

I pushed off of his shoulder and fixed his shirt a little.

"Thank you for your cooperation. If you remember anything else, be sure to tell Demi," I backed away. "All yours, boss."

"W-wait! You said I could go in unconscious!" He said, eyes begging for whatever mercy he could get.

"You're not my problem anymore," I shrugged as the first cube formed around him. It always took Demi a few moments to compartmentalize a "necessary isolation."

"Wait! Please!" He begged.

Shoop!

Demi cubed him off, transmitting Mr. Briggs to fuck-if-I-know-where, and fuck if I care.

If this were a detective movie, this would be the part where I lit up a cigarette and make some commentary on human darkness...

I guess I could have gone back to his office to get his eternal one, but I didn't want to be reminded of the wannabe cop. Souvenirs were for serial killers, not assassins.

All I wanted was a new car, a nice rest, and what Tia had for me.

"Hey Demi," I prompted. My boss never gave me compliments. The way Demi saw things, I was doing what I was supposed to do. My reward would be always in the future, where humanity came to rest.

"Yes, Nixed?" they asked. Sometimes I heard their voice as more feminine, despite its careful neutrality. In such moments, they almost seemed a bit more personable. "Think we got a lead on the source of the zombies?"

"That is unknown. It is far more likely humans have discovered a means to manipulate the corrupted, but it is worthy of investigation. I assess that you desire a reward and capabilities commensurate with your efforts," Demi replied.

"I could use a new car," I scratched at the back of my head. "And some guns... and some privacy for the rest of the day, assuming there's nothing else I need to kill."

"I assess only a 3% chance of needing your services further, Nixed. A restoration and upgrade of your preferred arsenal will be available once you return to your apartment. You will be given privacy until server zero. Starting now."

"What about the car?" I asked.

There was no response. Demi did that a lot. I could never tell if they were being petty or if the programming was just so rigid, the moment they accepted that I needed privacy, they were gone.

"Good talk, Boss," I grumbled to no one.

Tia tapped me on the shoulder with her tail.

"I believe a car has become available. Would you like the key?" she asked.

I shrugged. "Sure, why not."

She flew over to the desk and it opened for her.

"Feel free to help yourself!" she said as I walked over. "Oh! Here it is. The file I was looking for."

"Hm?" I sounded as I made my way behind the massive piece of furniture. They key was obvious. Blue-green, a perfect triangle not unlike a guitar pick. I pocketed it and started looking around inside.

There were a few cash cards, all priv, that I pocketed. An exa card that someone who wasn't me could use. I pocketed it as well.

One detriment of being on Demi's private processor was that I couldn't hold any more exa than Demi allowed. And they were very clear that I would only be allowed one exa.

Portable exa like this was as good as gold though, and you never know when you'll need a bribe. Someone could use it to get back on their feet. Get out of Share if they really wanted... not that the rest of the world was much different. Places like the Ziggurat were cliques. If you weren't their kind of people, you were either a visitor or someone to be isolated and pushed out.

Or you were the Reaper. The Fragger. The Assassin.

Me.

Whenever I found exa fragments, I never held them for long though. Didn't want anyone getting it in their head that they should rob the Reaper, much less that they could.

Security is a concept after all.

A quick scan showed there was .333 units of exa on the card. A third of a person, just sitting in a drawer in case Atticus had needed it.

I kept looking around. There were various digital tools. Identifier. Pattern synchronizer. Digital disguise kit. Call masker. Nothing I didn't already have access to.

Another drawer held bottles. Ancient spirits whose companies were long dead. They would have been priceless... if they were real.

Perhaps that was why Atticus liked them. The taste of wealth. Varnish and paint thinner.

Tia floated the file in front of me, breaking me out of my search reverie.

"It's the book I felt I should get with you!" She giggled.

I read the title.

"Ascendant: Struggle?" I asked. The title felt familiar. The synopsis read like the sort of early-millennium anti-capitalist stuff people started writing before World War IV. A work of fiction. You only had to pay priv to read it, if you couldn't find a pirated copy.

Wait... never mind. It had an exa-price attached to its code. Someone, maybe the pig Briggs, had moved it to the exa-section of the library. It made sense that the human powers at the top would want anything like this hidden.

Not absolutely so. After all, Capitalism's most parasitic trait was absorbing what it couldn't overcome. Selling t-shirts with Lenin's face to stupid kids that thought they were making a statement by spending their fifty dollars. Stupid kids like whoever I was.

But it wasn't the book that mattered, as I discovered when I scrolled through the reader log.

It was the reader.

"Dakota Thea..." I whispered.