I was to meet my contact at a hotel at what I dubbed Hotel Hell.
I checked into at the lobby and asked if they had SPF one million. The concierge gave me an incredulous look, like it had never heard the joke before, or had no idea what I was talking about. I’m not good at social situations.
The hotel was in a massive ass crack in this crusty, dried up planet that was a little too close to its sun. How and why anything lived there was beyond me. Surely it was some kind of seedy den, or as good as heaven for photosynthetic beings.
Life itself did not go to the actual surface as far as I could tell. It didn’t give me much reassurance that the windows on my particular floor had plaques stating not to open the curtains during certain times of year, lest ye risk setting yourself on fire.
The place was actually kind of interesting. Naturally, I scoped out the place before settling in. I needed to know the lay of the land for security purposes… and to know what entertainment was to be had where.
Coughs.
Damn near every crevasse of either side of the narrow canyon were rooms. I had the distinct pleasure of witnessing a party on one of the cheap upper floors, closest to the surface where the death rendering sun was most intense. One of the revelers – I couldn’t tell you what the occasion was, there seemed to be a lot of parties happening at once; intergalactic Mardi Gras? – got a wee bit too close to the railing.
I had never seen anything burst into flames so fast. The whole event happened quicker than my mind could process. Poof, flames, and falling to ash. The firewalls were already closing off the balcony just as another started to scream. It was like senior week all over again.
The corpse smoldered and blew away in moments.
Apparently there was no other measure necessary other than to close of the area. No extinguishers, no nothing. One second there was an alien, the next, dust in the wind.
Quite remarkable really.
I guess Zalud knew his mark well. That being me, just in case you didn’t get that. This was the most tame place in way of entertainment. The best I could find was something much like alcohol. Apparently it only turns its consumers into Icarus just before they fly too close to the sun. He likely expected me to get loaded out of my mind and then be no good to the mission otherwise. By his standards anyway. I feel that the lowered inhibitions make decision making easer once things go sideways. Which was inevitable.
Making my way around to my room, I couldn’t get the vanilla taste of the place out of my mouth. Another reason I don’t work for others… shit’s boring. Modest hotels, it turns out, are just as boring around the universe. I could crash a room part I suppose. Must be why there were so many of them, nothing better to do.
The bland, outdated patterns of the carpet were beginning to hypnotize me as I wondered the labyrinth of hallways. For some reason I struggle with finding hotel rooms. The placards are always confusing. The sequence breaks down. The arrows get ambiguous. Then a creature appeared out of nowhere.
I took a quick step back when I noticed it. My eyes took a few second longer than I would have liked to unfocus from the Kubric mind control carpet.
The creature was hideous. Beady eyes on a corpse like bulbous head. A simple brown briefcase held down at his side. I suspected it to be quite dangerous. And how true that would turn out to be.
It was my “partner.”
His face was slightly drawn and immobile. I couldn’t tell if he was worried or judging me.
I didn’t like him.
“Shall we go in?” he said, in a rather boring way.
Shoot me.
I grunted.
He held a card to the door. There was a faint click then he entered the room.
I could see him keeping a nervous eye on from the side. Tactical mistake, number one. I waited a few seconds before following him in the room. There was no explosion, screaming, or otherwise alarming sounds and when I did enter my partner stood perfectly alive, boringly in the center of the room. Much to my dismay.
The room was as you’d expect from the outside.
Gazillionaire crime lord put us in an economy, two pod room. Understandable from a business standpoint really. Keep expenses low and not draw attention. Perhaps he suspected I was used to cheap, dingy accommodations. Or he was just a cheap bastard.
Typical room though. Balcony of doom was at the far end, curtains fully closed. Two sleeping pods, obligatory four feet apart with individual end tables and lights. Tile floor; good for hotter climates. Door that lead certainly to a bathroom. And a contraption that I suspected was the hotel coffee machine. I didn’t need to know how it worked. Hotel coffee is garbage no matter where you are.
“This is acceptable,” he said, placing the case one of the tables.
I checked the closet and bathroom with clenched jaws to refrain from saying anything insulting. And to allay any pending threats, of course.
I returned to the main body of the room to find the deadly briefcase still sitting there. Its owner remained where he stood, a forced weary smile beaming at me.
“I’m Djorz,” I think he said.
“Charles,” I nodded. “George Twathammer… the third,” I told him offering a hand.
His was clammy with a weak grip. Weird texture, like there were no ridges. I needed to wash my hand.
The more I looked at him the more uneasy I felt. My gut was never wrong. There was something seriously off about this creature.
I’m pretty sure his wireframe glasses were just a prop. And I wasn’t sure what to make of the white button up shirt and khakis. Standing there in nervous stillness, waiting to get me killed.
He flinched and I nearly kicked him. He noticed my looking back and forth to the case.
“This,” he said a little too empathically. He took three quick, awkward steps towards it, beady eyes squirming to see better. “Is everything we should need.”
Flicking open the case, I had almost expected cash to spill out of it. Better would have been weapons. A nuke. Something. Instead, in a form fitting foam with slits stood three chips.
“The contracts,” Charles pointed to the far left one. “The money transfer,” the middle one. “And your pay,” the far right.
He stood back, gleefully awkward look, pointing a clammy hand like Vanna White.
I underestimated how dangerous that briefcase actually was.
I nodded with raised eyebrows.
My turn for show and tell.
I took off my backpack and dumped out a pile of hand grenades onto the pod nearest me.
His face worked in ways I could not quite understand at the sight.
“I hardly think those will be necessary.”
“Just in case,” I told him. “That’s what I’m here for after all.”
“Most people just carry a gun.”
“I’m not most people.”
Just trust that I had a much better plan then walking into a meeting with a pack full o’ ‘nades. Operation Valkyrie hadn’t worked out so well you know.
I think he started going over the plan with nervous excitement. Not paying too much attention, all I could think was how much I needed a drink. I was just so fucking bored. I can quit anytime I want don’t judge me.
“If we leave in an hour we will be there with enough time to spare,” is all I caught at the end.
“We’re leaving now.”
“What?” he asked with astonishment. “Why?”
“They won’t be expecting us.”
“But they are expecting us. Decorum dictates we arrive fifteen minutes early, meet a representative than are presented to the board…”
I raised a hand, universally signifying the desire for him to shut the fuck up.
I had some theories I was working on that needed verifying, but I wasn’t about to argue all that with him.
“Tactical advantage.”
“This should be a simple transaction, though.”
I raised my eyebrows at him again, scooped the grenades back into the pack, contemplated on giving him one for half a second, came back to my senses, then headed for the door.
The scuffling noises behind me indicated that my argument was more valid and he was going to follow my plan. A few moments later he scurried next to me as I strode down the hallway. The briefcase was in his hand between him and me.
“Have you ever been here before? What the hell is there to do?”
“Yes,” he began dryly. “I have on occasion met with clients here.”
“That’s a mistake.”
“Come again.”
Ever get tired of being the smartest person in the room?
“Never reuse a staging location,” I stated sternly.
“But this is a business matter.”
“I’m starting to feel like they did not give you all the information necessary.”
“I assure you my employers have imparted every necessary detail to me to carry out this transaction.”
“Then tell,” I said rubbing my temples. “Where can I get some entertainment on this scorched rock after we are done.”
“The amenities are clearly labeled on the…”
“I mean the hookers and blow variety. I’ll cover your half of the bill if you don’t get my ass killed today.”
“Oh. I see.” He seemed to shift his head back and forth in contemplation. I could practically see the processing of his thoughts.
“Prostitution is legal here,” he continued. “In a way. Just like the other attractions, they are safe and legal. Which in many ways is why we chose such a location.”
I guess what they say is true about organized crime. The best scam is a legal one.
“The bots used…”
“Ugh. Bots,” I interrupted.
There was just something about bots I didn’t like. Particularly for something so intimate.
“There was just something about bots I don’t like. Particularly for something so intimate,” I told him. Honesty is usually the best policy.
We came to the end of the hall where the lifts would take us up, over or wherever to the launch area to do our business the next planet over.
“I assure you they are top of the line and convincingly real to whatever you prefer.”
He pushed his glasses higher up his nose as we entered the lift. Squinting, he punched in the location on the button panel. The lift whisked us off with a faint hum.
“Let me guess. Zalud Enterprises owns the line.”
Charles’s eyes raised in delight, like I struck on a topic that interested him.
Greaaaat.
“A subsidiary actually…”
Leaning against the wall I put my head against the wall closing my eyes. As I tried to tune him out. For once I wished that job on Grantam killed me. Being pulled apart by a thousand alien gremlins over a little gem they believed to hold the secrets to the universe – yet didn’t know how it worked – sounded a lot more interesting than this conversation.
“Ever been to the G38?” I asked him. Couldn’t tell you where he was in the conversation. “What do you think about the ladies there?”
His eyes and mouth spasms then relaxed as he looked away.
“Interspecies copulation hardly seems practical.”
“Well, my intentions weren’t to propagate if that’s what you mean.”
“I mean physically…”
“A little imagination. Something bots usually lack.”
“Aren’t the species inhabiting the G38 dangerous?”
“Very, but it’s a wild ride when they get to like you.”
“You puzzle me Mr. Twathammer.”
I tried really hard not to snort a laugh when he said my name. Had honestly forgotten that was the one I gave him.
“Since the application of AI,” Charles returned to the conversation, “within certain parameters that is – they have become virtually indistinguishable…”
“That also what worries me.”
“So you would not have sexual intercourse with an artificial being.”
The door opened to the mall I suppose it was. Brightly colored ads, holograms. Every stall and doorway begged for attention. Beings of all sorts wandered about. It was like an arcade with the noises and the lights designed for mundane, mind numbing – but not in the way I prefer – pleasures. And of course there were the escort rentals.
Weird thought. Like a rental car. Super gross.
“I wouldn’t rule anything out,” I drawled as we passed by the line of models in the front window. They were quite impressive, I’ll admit. “Thing is. I’ve never been one to pay for such encounters. It doesn’t make sense to even throw dollar bills just to watch. I prefer to work for it.”
I do have my principles.
“But you mentioned hookers.”
“It’s a figure of speech.”
A rather humanoid figure slunk up to me from the valet stand by the door. Wide green eyes. Like green, green. They matched what little clothing she was wearing.
She raised her chin and dragged a finger along my chin.
“How may I serve you?”
“Damn things get more realistic every day,” I chuckled as I walked away.
A gelatinous being warbled on by.
I elbowed Charles.
“That more your type?”
He squinted even harder at me.
“I can introduce you. Maybe the three of us…”
He turned a strange color before scurrying away.