building and then grafted it onto Citadel. It had modern art on the walls, and the familiar deep shag carpet executives seemed to need under their tender feet at all times.
Deck flopped down in one of the expensive chairs. His hip hurt and he wanted his painkillers.
He hated this guy already. He hated the fact that he obviously had this job because of certain family relations. He hated the fact that he had just traveled for all this time to sit around and wait. He hated the fact that Diego was trying to impress him with this swank office. What a crock. Deck might be impressed if Diego turned out to be a vertebrate, if he rolled up his sleeves and got his pasty, soft, wrinkled old hands dirty doing actual work instead of just presiding over work like he was an emperor. Deck had avoided the corporate world mostly to avoid working for a useless, self-important tyrant like Diego.
Deck ground his teeth. He really wanted some painkillers.
"I'm really sorry we've kept you waiting so long."
Deck turned around to see a guy in his late thirties breeze into the room. He was vibrant and energetic. Business casual. Another underling to keep Deck busy.
"Bite me. Just get Diego in here."
He laughed, "Good to meet you, I'm Ed Diego" His hand darted inward for a quick handshake.
Deck was caught off balance and actually took the offered hand. Diego gave it a firm shake.
Diego sat down behind the ornate oak desk and placed a small folder squarely on the surface in front of him. He flipped it open and leafed briefly through its contents. "It really is good to finally meet you," he said, "I've learned a lot about you over the past couple of days but its nice to sit down and meet face to face."
"Skip it. You don't know me you arrogant puke."
Diego, unfazed by Deck's hostility, proceeded to read from the paper in front of him, "Deckard Oswald Stevens, born December fifteenth, 2045. Unmarried. No registered descendants. Father is Richard Holgate Stevens, deceased. Mother is Sara Lee Stevens, disabled and living on public assistance. Your known handles include ICE Pick and NeoPope. The last legitimate job you had was in 2066, as a delivery runner for NanoCourrier Inc. That was six years ago. The records get sketchy from there."
Deck hadn't heard his full name spoken aloud in about 6 years. He had destroyed or corrupted all known public records about his life years earlier. He hadn't used either of the handles in about three years, but it was clear someone had linked the supposedly anonymous handles to his supposedly erased citizen data, and in turn had linked them both to him. He had no clue as to how they were able to do such a thing within a matter of days.
After a long silence he finally responded, "I just go by Deck now."
Diego nodded, "Good. Well, to start over, I want to offer you a job."
"Forget it. No way I'm punching the deck in this madhouse. You can just throw me in jail," Deck wasn't sure if he really preferred jail over working as a corp drone, but it was a matter of principal.
Diego waved his his hand, dismissing the idea, "Not that kind of job. Kind of a mercenary job. A one time break-in. I'm guessing that's the kind of work you're doing right now anyway."
"So, you had me arrested just so you could offer me a job?"
"No, I had you arrested because you had climbed up inside my computer system and started poking around. Actually, I didn't call the cops at all. The local security guys called the cops on their own. Once I realized what you were doing, I sent orders to have you pulled out of there."
"You couldn't have just called off the cops?"
"Not after you burned two of them with an EMP, and certainly not after you took a couple more out with a stunner. Your fate was pretty much sealed by then. The only reason you even got out of there was because of Shodan."
"What? Are you talking about your digital spokes-model? The tour guide?"
Diego laughed and shook his head, "That is not Shodan's primary function. She does that
Deck flopped down in one of the expensive chairs. His hip hurt and he wanted his painkillers.
He hated this guy already. He hated the fact that he obviously had this job because of certain family relations. He hated the fact that he had just traveled for all this time to sit around and wait. He hated the fact that Diego was trying to impress him with this swank office. What a crock. Deck might be impressed if Diego turned out to be a vertebrate, if he rolled up his sleeves and got his pasty, soft, wrinkled old hands dirty doing actual work instead of just presiding over work like he was an emperor. Deck had avoided the corporate world mostly to avoid working for a useless, self-important tyrant like Diego.
Deck ground his teeth. He really wanted some painkillers.
"I'm really sorry we've kept you waiting so long."
Deck turned around to see a guy in his late thirties breeze into the room. He was vibrant and energetic. Business casual. Another underling to keep Deck busy.
"Bite me. Just get Diego in here."
He laughed, "Good to meet you, I'm Ed Diego" His hand darted inward for a quick handshake.
Deck was caught off balance and actually took the offered hand. Diego gave it a firm shake.
Diego sat down behind the ornate oak desk and placed a small folder squarely on the surface in front of him. He flipped it open and leafed briefly through its contents. "It really is good to finally meet you," he said, "I've learned a lot about you over the past couple of days but its nice to sit down and meet face to face."
"Skip it. You don't know me you arrogant puke."
Diego, unfazed by Deck's hostility, proceeded to read from the paper in front of him, "Deckard Oswald Stevens, born December fifteenth, 2045. Unmarried. No registered descendants. Father is Richard Holgate Stevens, deceased. Mother is Sara Lee Stevens, disabled and living on public assistance. Your known handles include ICE Pick and NeoPope. The last legitimate job you had was in 2066, as a delivery runner for NanoCourrier Inc. That was six years ago. The records get sketchy from there."
Deck hadn't heard his full name spoken aloud in about 6 years. He had destroyed or corrupted all known public records about his life years earlier. He hadn't used either of the handles in about three years, but it was clear someone had linked the supposedly anonymous handles to his supposedly erased citizen data, and in turn had linked them both to him. He had no clue as to how they were able to do such a thing within a matter of days.
After a long silence he finally responded, "I just go by Deck now."
Diego nodded, "Good. Well, to start over, I want to offer you a job."
"Forget it. No way I'm punching the deck in this madhouse. You can just throw me in jail," Deck wasn't sure if he really preferred jail over working as a corp drone, but it was a matter of principal.
Diego waved his his hand, dismissing the idea, "Not that kind of job. Kind of a mercenary job. A one time break-in. I'm guessing that's the kind of work you're doing right now anyway."
"So, you had me arrested just so you could offer me a job?"
"No, I had you arrested because you had climbed up inside my computer system and started poking around. Actually, I didn't call the cops at all. The local security guys called the cops on their own. Once I realized what you were doing, I sent orders to have you pulled out of there."
"You couldn't have just called off the cops?"
"Not after you burned two of them with an EMP, and certainly not after you took a couple more out with a stunner. Your fate was pretty much sealed by then. The only reason you even got out of there was because of Shodan."
"What? Are you talking about your digital spokes-model? The tour guide?"
Diego laughed and shook his head, "That is not Shodan's primary function. She does that
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