Chapter Nine
Dex ordered a drink and for a change got it with the neural stimulator response active. It cost more than just drinking the real booze he had sitting in front of him at home, but Dex wasn’t prepared to divide his attention between this conversation and his physical surroundings and he needed a drink to go with this chat. “Goddamn it, Shiraishi, were you planning on getting around to talking to me anytime soon?” Dex was trying to keep his voice level.
“I didn’t know, man,” Shiraishi answered, bringing his own pint of lager to his lips. “I don’t usually read the Ds files and it didn’t come up at squad. At least, no one mentioned his name. I really didn’t know until TK told me.”
“Shit,” Dex said, sighing. “Well, you’re here now. Spill it, Jay. How well did you know the vic?”
“He did my avatar for me,” Shiraishi said. “The other one, I mean. I knew him to say hello to. I’ve seen him around the compound — that’s what they call the joint where we just were. Other than that, nothing. We weren’t buddies or anything like that. Besides, he’s busy with the avatars and I’m busy with Security. There wasn’t a whole lot of socializing for either of us at TK’s events.”
“Fine.” Dex tipped his glass back and felt the unfamiliar rush of simulated drunkenness mixing with the real thing. “What can you tell me, then?”
“How much experience have you had with multis?” Shiraishi asked, sipping his own drink. Dex refilled his glass, but had the invisible bartender hold the effects this time.
“Honestly, not a lot,” he answered. “As far as I know, this is my first case. I mean, I know there are multis out there and I’ve never given a good god damn one way or another about it, but that’s where it starts and ends.”
“Fair enough,” Shiraishi said. “It’s a complicated thing. On the one hand, there’s a long history of people having multiple identities. Back before the everywherenet, most people did, whether they wanted to or not. It was so common that there were entire businesses built out of helping people consolidate all their identities into a cohesive unit. Of course, once the firms got together and made the everywherenet happen, everyone had to pick a single identity and stick with it if they wanted access. And once online access became integrated with personal systems, that identity was pretty much chosen for you.”
“But people still have separate identities for boards, games, sex, the usual stuff.”
“Sure,” Shiraishi agreed, “but those are really just pseudonyms. If push comes to shove, the everywherenet knows it’s you.”
Dex thought for a moment. “Which means that anyone can figure out who that hot little number is,” he cocked his head toward an obvious prostitute on one of the bar stools, “if they really want to bad enough.”
“Exactly,” Shiraishi said. “And, of course, there are the logs. We all know that logs are kept of all our activities somewhere in the bowels of everywherenet’s data storage and we all know they’re erased after a couple of weeks. But they’re there, so there’s no way to really ever hide what you do. If you do something bad enough and someone with money or pull cares enough, soon enough, you’ll get caught. It’s that simple. So a true multi, an identity like kind that Reuben helped people create, it’s what everyone fears and desires. Real anonymity. The chance to hide or the chance to change yourself.” He sat back in his chair and lifted his glass in a toast. “Freedom.”
“Okay, so there’s more to multiple identities that meets the eye,” Dex said, “I can accept that. But what’s up with all the Security? Is it really that dangerous and if it is, how come there aren’t stories like Reuben’s all the time?”
“Well, I’ll admit there’s a healthy dose of paranoia within the community,” Shiraishi said, “but that’s partly because there really are admins whose job it is to hunt down and eliminate multis in a firm’s internal system...”
“That’s different,” Dex broke in, “they’re protecting the integrity of their system. Not the same thing at all.”
“Fine,” Shiraishi said, “but what’s to stop those same firms from getting those same admins to do that same job on the public everywherenet?”
“Oh for chrissakes, Shiraishi,” Dex said, putting his glass down on the table hard, “you’ve been eating your own dog food so long you think it’s filet mignon. Just because they could do that, it doesn’t mean they would. I mean, hell’s bells, the firms can barely get together enough to run the everywherenet, you really think they’re going to donate resources to fund a manhunt for multis? Please.”
“Do you really think it’s that unlikely?” Shiraishi said, sounding a little put out. “The firms made damn sure that the everywherenet knows exactly who’s doing what and where. And it’s not just online activity, either.” He looked at Dex knowingly.
“Okay,” Dex said, “we know the logs show both online and physical activity. So?”
“So they want the info, man,” Shiraishi said, exasperated. “If they want it, they’re going to want it for everyone. And that means no one slipping through the cracks. No multis.”
“I don’t know,” Dex said. “That’s pretty weak.”
“You don’t have to believe it,” Shiraishi said, “but you asked and I’m telling you. And there definitely are individuals who are hunting down multis, whether they’re on a clock or not.”
“What do you mean?”
“People get harassed and people get deleted. Usually it’s not multis who are so far into the scene that they have avatars, but yeah, people do just disappear.”
“Are we talking technical erasure,” Dex asked, “or old fashioned intimidation?”
“It’s a bit of both,” Shiraishi said, “usually intimidation. There are a few renegade admin types who troll the boards looking for multis, crack the authentication and delete the accounts. Nothing we can even do about that, except help people revive the identity. Also, they usually have to go board by board to do that — it’s more of a nuisance than anything. To be fair, working Security for the compound the major concern is anonymity for the firsts and keeping the looky-lous out.”
“Ever investigated a murder?” Dex asked, flat out.
“No,” Shiraishi answered, meeting his old comrade’s gaze. “Though we’d likely never have known about it anyway. When people disappear, that’s the point. They’re gone.”
Dex paused. He pulled up the image of Reuben that Ivy had sent him and sent it to Shiraishi. “This one didn’t disappear.” Dex watched as Shiraishi’s avatar’s face stopped changing. He wondered what the man’s true reaction was to the image.
When he finally spoke, Shiraishi’s voice was soft. “Fuck, Dex, what did they do to him?”
“Reprogrammed him into a loop. His, whatever you call it, first, didn’t even know it was happening.”
“Whoa,” Shiraishi said, “this is some heavy shit. If we’ve got a multi-hating programmer on the loose with these kind of skills... I’d better warn TK.” Shiraishi made to get up, but Dex put out a hand to stop the man.
“Slow down, big fella,” Dex said. “As far as we know, this is a one-off. There’s no indication that this is an anti-multi crime. Odds are it’s a personal thing; murder usually is. Don’t go off all half-cocked and scare the crap out of your little community.” Shiraishi sat back down and rubbed his face with his hands.
“But what if there is some sick fuck out there with a hard-on for multis and a bag of evil code? What if this happens to someone else?” It was a good question, one Dex couldn’t really answer.
“I don’t know,” Dex conceded, “but what good is scaring everyone going to do? We don’t know who it is, or how the reprogramming happened. We don’t even have any leads to tell people to watch out for this or for that. All we have is something to fear, just problems without solutions. And what’s the point of that?”
The men were quiet, the sounds of the bar’s music playing over each one’s thoughts. Shiraishi stood and broke the silence. “I’ll give y
ou two days. If you can’t give me a reason not to by then, I’m posting this to the community. Image and all.” He linked out of the bar without another word and Dex shook his head.
The last thing he needed was Shiraishi running around giving all the multis on the ’nets nightmares. Even if there were a serial multi killer out there, which Dex had no reason to believe, all a full scale panic would do is tip that person off to who the multis were. It was a dumb, rookie move, but Dex understood. They were his people. He was one of them, they were his community and he wanted to protect them. Dex understood, but he didn’t share those feelings. After all, he had no one to protect.
He linked out of Marionette City and looked around his tiny apartment. The kind of real world jobs he took, this was the best sort of thing he could expect. Of course, with his Cubicle Men salary, he could have afforded a private place, but why bother. He didn’t need any more space; he didn’t have any things to put in it. He spent his extra money on disk upgrades, music files and once in a while on something with a little more class than Jamaica’s Best.
He hit the lav and drank some water, trying to get the non-taste of virtual booze out of his mouth. He doused the lights with a thought and took a swig of SleepingJuice. His last thought was extinguished before it could even be fully formed.