his wide fingertips on the glass separating him from the images of the female cop and her new companion, pushing their way through the anonymous crowds. 'I call the shots.'
The camera operator raised an eyebrow as he glanced sidelong at the figure beside him, but said nothing. This job, he might have spoken aloud, was no worse than any other.
Just different.
5
A vast, oblivious deity seemed to smile down at them from above.
They weren't far from where the remnants of the escaped replicant Enesque had been scraped from the sidewalk. Iris could recognize the surrounding buildings from recently imprinted memory. The artificially generated cloud, lower than the darker and stormier ones above, remained clinging halfway up the towers, as though it had hissed steamlike out of the retrofitted ductwork. Looming overhead, as she and Vogel rounded one building's corner, was the geisha's immense image, smiling as mysteriously as before, daintily placing the tiny pill in her mouth, lips as red as her lacquered nails. The gesture had always struck Iris as vaguely sacramental, a sinister communion.
'You see? Lot less crowded around here.' Leading the way, Vogel glanced over his shoulder at Iris, his own smile less pleasant than that of the Asian woman above. 'Back at the souk you can hardly breathe. Not that you'd particularly want to.'
She had noticed the density of human bodies starting to thin out as they'd passed by the exact building where she'd had her final, elevated tussle with Enesque. Coming around to the opposite side of the building, the sidewalks were practically deserted. 'What's the deal?'
'Superstitious dread,' answered Vogel. He kept walking, hands in the pockets of his duster and shoulders hunched forward, as though leaning into a wind. 'That's a very powerful motivator for a lot of street types. They don't have the same kind of keen, logical, scientific minds that you and I do. So when something big happens in a specific place, an event with spooky overtones, they tend to get their fear and reverence impulses mixed up, and give the whole zone a wide berth. Like a reverse pilgrimage: the place is holy, so you don't go there.'
'What was so big that happened around here?' Iris didn't figure it could have been anything to do with her tracking down and retiring the replicant Enesque. That was too much of a business-as-usual event for anyone to get excited about it.
'See for yourself.' Vogel stopped at the corner of the next building and pointed ahead.
Iris caught up with him and looked where he was pointing. An open space stretched out among the buildings; not as big as the souk, but large enough to contain an impressive pile of wreckage. Curved steel girders, interconnected into a crumpled framework, darkened with both rust and ashy scorch marks, had gouged their way through the street's asphalt and concrete, drawing jagged trenches into the hidden soil meters beneath. Scraps of tattered metallic cloth fluttered from the metal, more like unraveling bandages than flags.
'Oh.' Iris had a notion of what the wreckage represented, what it had been before the crash. 'It's the blimp.' The fragments of cloth sheathing had been the tip-off, along with the spiky antennae that could be seen protruding from junction points on the steel frame. Underneath the limited spectra of the widely spaced mercury-vapor streetlamps, glass shards glittered jewellike on the ground, from the broken lenses of the undercarriage's swiveling searchlights. 'This is where it came down.'
'Correction. This is where it was brought down.' With one raised fingertip, Vogel traced a quick diagonal slash through the air. 'By the rep-symps.' He glanced inquiringly at her. 'Savvy the word?'
'Get real. This is stuff I got in basic training. You're talking replicant sympathizers.'
'Very good,' said Vogel. 'Glad to see you're up to speed on these things. I wasn't sure you would be, since we're talking history rather than current affairs. Nobody's seen a lot
The camera operator raised an eyebrow as he glanced sidelong at the figure beside him, but said nothing. This job, he might have spoken aloud, was no worse than any other.
Just different.
5
A vast, oblivious deity seemed to smile down at them from above.
They weren't far from where the remnants of the escaped replicant Enesque had been scraped from the sidewalk. Iris could recognize the surrounding buildings from recently imprinted memory. The artificially generated cloud, lower than the darker and stormier ones above, remained clinging halfway up the towers, as though it had hissed steamlike out of the retrofitted ductwork. Looming overhead, as she and Vogel rounded one building's corner, was the geisha's immense image, smiling as mysteriously as before, daintily placing the tiny pill in her mouth, lips as red as her lacquered nails. The gesture had always struck Iris as vaguely sacramental, a sinister communion.
'You see? Lot less crowded around here.' Leading the way, Vogel glanced over his shoulder at Iris, his own smile less pleasant than that of the Asian woman above. 'Back at the souk you can hardly breathe. Not that you'd particularly want to.'
She had noticed the density of human bodies starting to thin out as they'd passed by the exact building where she'd had her final, elevated tussle with Enesque. Coming around to the opposite side of the building, the sidewalks were practically deserted. 'What's the deal?'
'Superstitious dread,' answered Vogel. He kept walking, hands in the pockets of his duster and shoulders hunched forward, as though leaning into a wind. 'That's a very powerful motivator for a lot of street types. They don't have the same kind of keen, logical, scientific minds that you and I do. So when something big happens in a specific place, an event with spooky overtones, they tend to get their fear and reverence impulses mixed up, and give the whole zone a wide berth. Like a reverse pilgrimage: the place is holy, so you don't go there.'
'What was so big that happened around here?' Iris didn't figure it could have been anything to do with her tracking down and retiring the replicant Enesque. That was too much of a business-as-usual event for anyone to get excited about it.
'See for yourself.' Vogel stopped at the corner of the next building and pointed ahead.
Iris caught up with him and looked where he was pointing. An open space stretched out among the buildings; not as big as the souk, but large enough to contain an impressive pile of wreckage. Curved steel girders, interconnected into a crumpled framework, darkened with both rust and ashy scorch marks, had gouged their way through the street's asphalt and concrete, drawing jagged trenches into the hidden soil meters beneath. Scraps of tattered metallic cloth fluttered from the metal, more like unraveling bandages than flags.
'Oh.' Iris had a notion of what the wreckage represented, what it had been before the crash. 'It's the blimp.' The fragments of cloth sheathing had been the tip-off, along with the spiky antennae that could be seen protruding from junction points on the steel frame. Underneath the limited spectra of the widely spaced mercury-vapor streetlamps, glass shards glittered jewellike on the ground, from the broken lenses of the undercarriage's swiveling searchlights. 'This is where it came down.'
'Correction. This is where it was brought down.' With one raised fingertip, Vogel traced a quick diagonal slash through the air. 'By the rep-symps.' He glanced inquiringly at her. 'Savvy the word?'
'Get real. This is stuff I got in basic training. You're talking replicant sympathizers.'
'Very good,' said Vogel. 'Glad to see you're up to speed on these things. I wasn't sure you would be, since we're talking history rather than current affairs. Nobody's seen a lot
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