leave now.]
Jack set off for a set of stairs he’d spotted earlier. They were roped off and marked ‘Private’.
[ Think you’ve got turned round, Jack. The exit’s over there.]
[ I know exactly where I’m going.]
[Come on now, Jackie boy, a joke’s a joke.]
Jack shouldered his way through some particularly energetic dancers. One of them shouted at him, but the words were inaudible.
[ You really mean it, don’t you? You’re a lunatic, Jack. You’ll get yourself beaten up. At best.]
[ Just like when some of the prison’s biggest thugs came looking for me after your dodgy card games. It won’t be any worse than that.]
[ But I didn’t know I’d be taking over then!]
They were off the dance floor and into the corridor. Fist sulked in silence as Jack climbed the stairs. Halfway up, there was a landing.
[ Think about Andrea!] wailed Fist. [ If you get caught, they’ll go after her too.]
[ We kept our relationship secret. There’s nothing to connect us. She’s perfectly safe, whatever happens.]
A disinfectant reek stung Jack’s nose. There were two doors marked with little barcodes, one shaped like a man, another like a woman. A third door had a little combination keypad by its handle.
[Physical security! There’s nothing I can do about that. We can stop playing at burglars and leave.]
[ Read one of the staff. Get me the combination.]
[ They might pick me up. That could be dangerous.]
[ They definitely will do if I go down and tell them what we’re up to here. Which I will do if you don’t start helping me now. Do it, Fist, or I’ll get the shit kicked out of us both.]
Fist swore and closed his eyes. His body shook slightly. Jack imagined his consciousness skipping from bouncer to bar staff to DJ, brushing against their virtual selves, looking for cracks to seep into.
Fist’s eyes flicked back open.
[ I’m only helping you to get in so we can get out as quickly as possible.]
[ Yes.]
[ I really don’t think you should be doing this.]
[ There’s only one person up there. And we’ll avoid him. Now what’s the number?]
[2754.]
[ That was nice and easy, wasn’t it?]
[ Fuck off.]
They stepped through the door and into luxury.
[Got a signal?] said Jack.
[Getting stronger.]
[Go to work.]
The corridor was padded with pale, thick carpets. Soft uplights illuminated pastel walls, studded with glyphs. Jack wondered about the onweave art that the glyphs represented. When Jack first started investigating Akhmatov’s business affairs, he’d watched interviews with a few young Station artists. Akhmatov had a habit of arriving at their studios unannounced and paying substantial amounts for one or two pieces of their best work. None of them had been either able or willing to give much information away about their patron. Akhmatov’s interest made sure that these stylish young people patronised his more exclusive events, lending them an air of cutting edge excitement that made them some of the most popular nights in Docklands. They’d even attracted a regular Homelands clientele.
No doubt these glyphs pleasured onweave viewers with sounds and visuals from the servers of today’s bright young things. No doubt Akhmatov’s art patronage still helped keep his venues at the cutting edge of fashion. And of course, such patronage would please East. As maker and breaker of Station fashion, her interest and indulgence were essential to the success of Akhmatov’s business. Jack wondered briefly if she was the Pantheon member whose influence he’d made out in the Panther Czar’s accounts. She’d certainly always been close to Grey.
Soon he’d know for sure.
[ Now we’re talking,] said Fist, pulling Jack out of his reverie.
[ You’re in?]
Fist tittered, irritation all but forgotten in the joy of action.
[Part of the way. Got the basics.]
[So who’s that up ahead?]
[ It is Akhmatov. Looks like he’s asleep.]
[Must have had a hard day’s night.]
For a moment, Jack remembered the best
Jack set off for a set of stairs he’d spotted earlier. They were roped off and marked ‘Private’.
[ Think you’ve got turned round, Jack. The exit’s over there.]
[ I know exactly where I’m going.]
[Come on now, Jackie boy, a joke’s a joke.]
Jack shouldered his way through some particularly energetic dancers. One of them shouted at him, but the words were inaudible.
[ You really mean it, don’t you? You’re a lunatic, Jack. You’ll get yourself beaten up. At best.]
[ Just like when some of the prison’s biggest thugs came looking for me after your dodgy card games. It won’t be any worse than that.]
[ But I didn’t know I’d be taking over then!]
They were off the dance floor and into the corridor. Fist sulked in silence as Jack climbed the stairs. Halfway up, there was a landing.
[ Think about Andrea!] wailed Fist. [ If you get caught, they’ll go after her too.]
[ We kept our relationship secret. There’s nothing to connect us. She’s perfectly safe, whatever happens.]
A disinfectant reek stung Jack’s nose. There were two doors marked with little barcodes, one shaped like a man, another like a woman. A third door had a little combination keypad by its handle.
[Physical security! There’s nothing I can do about that. We can stop playing at burglars and leave.]
[ Read one of the staff. Get me the combination.]
[ They might pick me up. That could be dangerous.]
[ They definitely will do if I go down and tell them what we’re up to here. Which I will do if you don’t start helping me now. Do it, Fist, or I’ll get the shit kicked out of us both.]
Fist swore and closed his eyes. His body shook slightly. Jack imagined his consciousness skipping from bouncer to bar staff to DJ, brushing against their virtual selves, looking for cracks to seep into.
Fist’s eyes flicked back open.
[ I’m only helping you to get in so we can get out as quickly as possible.]
[ Yes.]
[ I really don’t think you should be doing this.]
[ There’s only one person up there. And we’ll avoid him. Now what’s the number?]
[2754.]
[ That was nice and easy, wasn’t it?]
[ Fuck off.]
They stepped through the door and into luxury.
[Got a signal?] said Jack.
[Getting stronger.]
[Go to work.]
The corridor was padded with pale, thick carpets. Soft uplights illuminated pastel walls, studded with glyphs. Jack wondered about the onweave art that the glyphs represented. When Jack first started investigating Akhmatov’s business affairs, he’d watched interviews with a few young Station artists. Akhmatov had a habit of arriving at their studios unannounced and paying substantial amounts for one or two pieces of their best work. None of them had been either able or willing to give much information away about their patron. Akhmatov’s interest made sure that these stylish young people patronised his more exclusive events, lending them an air of cutting edge excitement that made them some of the most popular nights in Docklands. They’d even attracted a regular Homelands clientele.
No doubt these glyphs pleasured onweave viewers with sounds and visuals from the servers of today’s bright young things. No doubt Akhmatov’s art patronage still helped keep his venues at the cutting edge of fashion. And of course, such patronage would please East. As maker and breaker of Station fashion, her interest and indulgence were essential to the success of Akhmatov’s business. Jack wondered briefly if she was the Pantheon member whose influence he’d made out in the Panther Czar’s accounts. She’d certainly always been close to Grey.
Soon he’d know for sure.
[ Now we’re talking,] said Fist, pulling Jack out of his reverie.
[ You’re in?]
Fist tittered, irritation all but forgotten in the joy of action.
[Part of the way. Got the basics.]
[So who’s that up ahead?]
[ It is Akhmatov. Looks like he’s asleep.]
[Must have had a hard day’s night.]
For a moment, Jack remembered the best
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