Future Crimes Part 17

The funeral was over.

by Craig Shaw Gardner Craig Shaw Gardner is the author of more than twenty novels, including the Ebenezum trilogy, and his more recent Dragon Circle series, which includes the novels Dragon Sleeping, Dragon Waking, and Dragon Burning.

He has also written novelizations of several movies, including Batman and Batman Returns.

DON NY Are you sure you're all right?"

It made him smile. She only called him Donny when she was worried about him.

"Sure, Amy, I'm fine. I finally finished the project, and I think I'm going to enjoy a little down time."

That is, he would as soon as he attended to whatever was going wrong in his office. He could hear that annoying error message all over his apartment.

"Well, you're a big boy now." Her image smiled at him as she pulled the long, dark hair out of her face.

The crystal display on the portable phone didn't do her justice.

"You sure you don't want me to come over?"

He paused before he answered. It was tempting. If he wasn't so tired-"No, I think I'll just check the Web and get some sleep. We're still on for the weekend? We'll have plenty of time, then."

Her image winked at him.

"We'll always have time."

He always liked it when she said that. They said their good nights. He really shouldn't neglect her like this. If only there wasn't so much to do.

He flipped off the phone and strode back into his office' System error," the soothing female voice, not so different from Amy's, really, said over and over again.

"System error."

"Yeah, yeah." He looked to the explanation on the wall-sized screen.

What the h.e.l.l? Whatever was wrong with the system, it extended to the screen, which seemed to be printing letters and numbers on top of one another until they were nothing but a white blur.

Well, he had saved all his work before talking to Amy, so no problem there. He hit reset.

He jumped at the scream.

"SUPER STIMS. LIVING LIFE TO THE.

FULLEST!".

The shout was followed by the blare of Mariachi horns, speedily playing the Super Stims jingle. He took a deep breath, doing his best to still his heart.

The ad-mailers had found some new way around the suppression fields.

You always needed another upgrade All of it was a game in a way, the technology of the ad and anti-ad programs leapfrogging over each other constantly. The ad programs had gotten pretty devious, able to attach themselves to micro files viruses, anti-viruses; just about anything.

Who knew how this latest one had snaked its way in. He wondered if that alone was enough to screw up the system.

The ad program cut off as abruptly as it had begun.

The horns stopped mid-blare. That was odd. Usually it took a quarter of an hour for you to purge the things from your system, by which time the jingle would be permanently embedded in your head.

The view screens had returned to default settings, showing views of the streets immediately around the apartment complex. When he couldn't get out, he liked to scan through the observation cameras; over a dozen different views of the surrounding streets. This late at night, there wasn't much out there; just the occasional vehicle cloaked in a security s.h.i.+eld, guaranteed to mask vehicle, occupant, and whatever weapons might have been brought along for Personal Security.

He got his second shock of the night. There was actually somebody out there walking, all alone on the streets at this time of night. Don swore under his breath. The man was dressed all in black. He shuffled down the street, his head down, eyes nearly closed, as if lost in his own private world. This guy was either heavily armed and dangerous, or he was crazy and dangerous.

Whichever it was, Don had the feeling he'd find out soon. Three individuals with shaved heads sauntered down the street only half a block behind the lone man.

Rather than hair, the three all sported neon implants, each of the three favoring a different color, yellow, red, and blue. The bright strands on their skulls strobed slowly at first, but faster and faster as they approached the man alone, as if the neon quickened with their adrenaline.

"Hey!" Red Neon called.

"We found ourselves a ghost!"

The man alone looked up, pulled from his private thoughts.

"What? Leave me alone."

Yellow Neon cackled.

"What do you know? A talking ghost!"

"Shame he won't be talking for long," Red Neon added.

The gang thought it was hilarious. Don realized that all three of them were holding knives.

They moved in to have their fun. From the way the blades glowed in the darkness, Don could tell the punks all held Battery Blades, the latest rage in street

65.

weapons, designed to both cut and stun. After all, with its high water content, blood was an excellent conductor.

It looked like they were going to kill him. These same cameras fed directly to the building's security system. They'd been at it for a while now. Where were the police?

Knives flashed in the neon glow. The way the three huddled around their fallen victim, Don couldn't see much of anything. But he could certainly hear.

The victim somehow broke free of the others. He slipped once, maybe on his own blood, but kept from falling. He pushed past the punks and lurched straight toward Don's viewpoint. The punks were only a step behind. One raised his knife above his head and plunged it forward, the lighted blade flas.h.i.+ng in a downward arc straight into the victim's back.

The camera was covered by spurting blood. As the blood ran down the screen, it formed into red letters against the black background:

"REMEMBER! IF YOU GO OUT BY YOURSELF,.

YOU ONLY HAVE YOURSELF TO.

BLAME!".

This wasn't even real! It was a G.o.d d.a.m.ned PSA.

The ad stims were everywhere. Don jabbed at the reset b.u.t.ton.

All his screens went blank. There wasn't even an This was ridiculous. There were supposed to be safeguards against this kind of system failure. Something, or someone, was messing with him.

A chime sounded.

"Don, you have company."

It was the voice of the doorbell. The doorbell? He hardly recognized it. Who besides Amy ever used the doorbell? And after he had entered her handprint ID, even she had bypa.s.sed the system.

Don scanned the console on his armrest, pressing the b.u.t.ton to show the view outside his apartment.

Somehow, that camera was still working; a view of the hallway outside flashed on his largest screen.

A man in a blue uniform smiled up at the camera.

"Service."

"Service?" Don demanded.