AI's Minion

  Chapter 15

  Chan knew that AI was keeping track of his vital signs. This time the encounter didn’t bring fear but anger. At first he wasn’t sure why, until he recalled what Darvesh had taught him. His anger was a reaction to the clerk’s dominance behavior that was wholly out of place. But apparently anger was closer to what he needed, because he was much calmer stopping at the half-way landing and breaking open the package he carried.

  The bundle was the entire uniform, with undershirt, belt, socks and shoes. The default color was a brownish top and charcoal slacks. The shoes were black, but AI had told him they could also change colors. The belt fabric was currently same as the shirt. The buckle was brassy with a blank face for now. Naturally it all fit perfectly.

  He stuffed his old clothes back in the wrapping and held them under his arm. Climbing up to the next floor, he proceeded to a men’s room and stepped inside. From his old clothes he pulled out a disposable razor and proceeded to remove the low stubble he typically wore. His strokes continued to the top of his head and shaved it all down, though not quite totally smooth. He left just a bit of coloring stubble on his scalp by foregoing that one last pass with the blade. He re-wrapped the bundle of old clothing tightly in the wrapping so that it looked like almost anything else but clothing, squaring off the sides.

  Stepping back, he noted that he bore little resemblance to the fellow who had entered just a short time ago through the freight door. This time he strode toward the elevator. After discussing it with AI, he waited until it was actually his turn. That took about as long as the entire time he had been in the building so far. On the good side, it allowed him to regain self-control.

  It didn’t matter what the other occupants of the elevator thought he looked like, so long as he didn’t look anything like Chandler. He remained utterly quiet and calm as the elevator went back up and stopped multiple times as people cycled on and off the car. Eventually he escaped the stifling box on the first floor near the main entrance. Leaving was a simple matter of hitting the departure gates opposite the entrance scanners and all the other security measures. Because he was with several others, no one seemed to notice him at all.

  Once outside in the sun, he promised himself he would get a hat.

  He never saw the bike again. Using his plastic tag he took a bus back to his own side of town. Just off from the bus stop he spotted a store that sported hats hanging from the ceiling over the entrance. AI confirmed he had sufficient credits to buy something. It took a bit of searching to find one he felt comfortable wearing with his default uniform. It was plain tan and in the style of desert warfare uniforms – perfect.

  He hurried up the steps and into his apartment. The building was generally vacant this time of day, so he worried less about being noticed. Without bothering to change his outfit, he went through the portal and found his chameleon ID badge was ready and waiting. The kitchen equipment was capable of recycling the plastic wrappers, so he pulled a wad of them from his pack and stuffed them in the receptacle. Then he stocked up on extra food and drink, including several large clear plastic bladders of water that made his pack quite heavy. Returning to his apartment, he began disassembling the backside of the cabinet to remove the portal rig.

  It took longer than he expected and he was sweating. “I never worked this hard at the furniture shop,” he said with a wry grin.

  Anticipate more days like this.

  Was AI developing a sense of humor? More likely this was merely a response based on his cautious request for pertinent notices not specifically demanded. Still, it made him chuckle.

  He decided he would just have to see what his new digs looked like before he contemplated how to set up the portal there. This time it was a tram ride in the direction of the old port. To his surprise, it turned out the weekend project was an attempt to create a park in the open space that once hosted cranes and such. He was delighted to see ugly “decorative” fixtures that would screen his movements from most living persons normally in the area. He could walk into the square from one corner and right behind the office building.

  Of course, this time he needed to stop inside that office. His uniform changed colors to something more common among government office workers. The shirt was pale blue and the pants were medium brown, as were the shoes. He glanced at the badge he pulled from his pocket to see the dreaded IG credentials. He did his best to make it seem his pack wasn’t quite so heavy as it was as he strode up the short stairway into the front door, removing his hat as he entered.

  The interior was nasty and dirty. A fat old codger sat behind the only partially clear desk in the place. He wore a frayed old seaman’s cap. Almost no one sported physical glasses these days, but this one had bent rims on his face holding smeared lenses.

  The old man stared at him a moment expressionless. His colloquial accent was thick. “I suppose you’ll be wanting the key to that back office. We can’t supply anything else but the key, so you’re on your own.” He produced a rather large and heavy security key attached to a scratched and chipped plastic tag.

  As Chan reached for it, the fellow seemed to shrink back as if to avoid contamination. Thus, Chan’s smile was genuine, though not from any professionalism. Perhaps it looked enough like a sneer as to fit the character of an inspector. He managed to say very quietly, “Thank you, sir.” Then he turned on his heel and walked out, suppressing a cough from the stench.

  The key actually worked after a bit jiggling and shaking of the door. He hadn’t expected much and was rewarded with the sight of thick cobwebs and rat droppings among dead insects of all types. Oddly enough, a worn broom stood in one corner under the thickest part of the cobwebs. Otherwise the place was startlingly plain and featureless concrete that hadn’t seen paint since before Chan was born.

  He had noticed a second-hand shop on the way here, so he was comfortable with furnishing it functionally, but it took the rest of the day getting the space clean enough to use. The broom just about lasted long enough for the massive task before the bands came off and the plastic bristles fell away from the handle.

  The fabric of his uniform was virtually self-cleaning, so no sweat stains showed but dusting himself down from the filth did take a bit of effort. He was left with a growling stomach and a space slightly larger than his cramped apartment. Under the dust and cobwebs one wall had concealed some kind of mounting studs for an object just slightly smaller than a doorway, which Chan noted was perfect for the portal rigging. Similar fixtures ran around the room far up near the top of the wall. There was also an intermittent row of semi-transparent blocks up near the ceiling letting in some light. That they weren’t broken convinced Chan they were probably some type of non-yellowing epoxy casting, another example of government extravagance from another time. He wondered if trying to clean them would improve things.

  However, for now it was enough to get the necessary furnishings for a long stay. Locking the door, he stepped cautiously around to the front of the building. He thought he had heard the sound of the front door slamming shut an hour earlier, transmitted through the concrete structure. Sure enough, what little light that had been visible through the windows earlier was out now. There was an old couple out strolling around the kitschy park and Chan passed them on his way to the second-hand shop. He simply waved and hoped they got used to seeing him.

  Spies.

  Chan struggled not to react to the unexpected whisper in his ear. Not that it would change his plans much, but he had simply never expected it. The government often coaxed old busybodies into playing at surveillance, reporting anything they thought unusual to handlers in exchange for some small favors, like reduced rent. All it meant was that Chan had to be very careful to play his role around them. His outfit had returned to the vaguely military default once he got a few blocks away.

  The used goods shop was one of the best Chan had ever seen. The first thing he picked up was a self-heating mug. He found a folding cot with blankets, two folding chairs and a really good TV
tray. There was a collapsible shoe hanger that could be suspended from the ceiling for shelving. Since the walls had studs poking out just below those clear blocks, he grabbed a couple of twine spools not completely empty yet and some old drapes. A better broom with some other cleaning equipment filled out the load. Finally, there was a small utility wagon to haul it all.

  Back at his new office, it didn’t take long to make himself at home. Chan found the portal very easy to install to the fixtures and hanging the drapes around on three walls made it seem less intrusive behind one of them by itself. They also made the room echo less. His food and water were stocked in the hanging shoe keeper in the corner behind the smallest curtain. He had noticed the place was not hit by direct sunlight, so the thick concrete walls acted to keep the temperature stable and just a bit cooler than one might expect.

  After refreshing his mind on tomorrow’s plans with his book computer, he found the cot was decent enough for someone who had put in a hard day.