Thursday, December 27, 2007
Undercity Gotham - Part 1
Over ten years ago, I started writing speculative fiction with an outline of a story about a reluctant vampire. After more than a decade of false starts, rewrites, edits, help from my friends, and abject terror about being rejected by a magazine due to the length or general suckage of my story, I’ve instead decided to self-publish my first story here at the Daedalnexus. I’ve busted it up into daily submissions over the next three days because it’s over 10,000 words long, but I’ll ultimately be putting it up in a single file so you can download and print it. All I ask is that, if you like the story, you send people back here for the original.
Thanks, and I hope you enjoy the story.
Undercity Gotham
It wasn’t the volume of the electronica that wrenched Alex away from his dreams of sweet oblivion, although it could have woken the dead. No, it was the music itself. He enjoyed electronica, but the rhythms of In Nominae Projectus had been recycled more times than asphalt. The only one way to turn them off was to get out of bed as quickly as possible. Nothing else would satisfy the bitch who woke him every morning.
“Dana, move please,” Alex said to the cat curled up behind his knees. Alex stretched and forced away the sharp ache of hunger in his stomach. Alex felt Dana stand and stretch, but it wasn’t until she jumped from he bed that he saw her bioluminescent form slinking toward the bedroom door.
The so called electronica was replaced by Richard Strauss’ Tod und Verkläung as soon as his feet hit the floor. Damn her, Alex thought. Sylvie knew he’d love to send INP and every recording they’d ever made into deep space on a rocket with no food, water, or air. Apparently she’d relied upon that fact.
“Sylvie, have I mentioned recently that I hate you,” Alex asked.
“If you define recently as sometime within the last 23 hours, no. If you include yesterday at approximately this time, when I woke you with the Mormon Tabernacle Choir’s rendition of Aerosmith’s Dream On, then the answer is yes.”
Alex loved Sylvie’s voice. It caressed his eardrums and insinuated itself into his soul every time he heard it. Her ethereal timbre disturbed most people who heard it, and he knew that the effect was intentional. He’d spent a lot of time and money creating that voice.
Sylvie had taken Alex years and millions of dollars to create. He’d used the most advanced artificial life algorithms, synthetic personality codes, and when he couldn’t find what he needed in the open-source AI communities, he’d resorted to stealing some of her intelligence subroutines from IBM, Microsoft, and DARPA. And in return, the fruit of his labor played cruel jokes on him as his daily wakeup call. He couldn’t complain, of course. He had, after all, programmed her that way.
Alex tried to speak while yawning and failed miserably. “I don’t speak yawn, Alex,” chortled Sylvie.
“I said, open the blinds please. I’d like to see the sunset this evening.”
Alex stood facing the windows that made up one entire wall of the bedroom, motionless in anticipation of the sunset concealed behind the stainless steel shutters and Venetian blinds. He wished Sylvie would hurry up, but given that her sensors could read his quickened pulse and respiration, she was likely dragging it out intentionally.
When the shutters and blinds opened, Alex gasped. He’d always loved sunsets, and this one was one of the best he’d ever seen. The sun had set behind gray green clouds of industrial pollution that banded the reds, oranges, and yellows of an appallingly beautiful sunset. Alex whistled his appreciation.
“I’m glad you like it,” said Sylvie. “The ozone index is at its highest in eight months, the sulfurous clouds just blew in from Ohio, and the Jersey factories produced dramatically more particulates today than normal. I calculated that sunset would likely be particularly impressive and woke you as soon as it was safe to do so.”
“Thank you, Sylvie. It is quite worth the risk....”
“You can pay me back with a night out on the town as soon as the interlink works properly. But if you like, you can upgrade my core memory and hard storage. I’m running low on both, you know.”
Alex smiled and glanced over at the blinking green LED that signified Sylvie’s virtual presence in the bedroom. “Consider it done. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to finish the sunset alone.”
When Sylvie’s LED went black, Alex returned his attention to the sunset outside.
The motion-sensitive light lit the bathroom at Alex’s arrival. “Shall I start the shower for you,” asked Sylvie, her LED blinking green.
“Yes, thank you. Dana was particularly demanding this evening. One of these days I’ll finish building the feeder so you can feed her for me.”
“I doubt it. You enjoy feeding her far too much,” Sylvie said as Alex stepped into the shower.
“You know, I suppose I do. It keeps me grounded in the here and now,” said Alex as he let the hot water drain tension from his body. “And besides, I wouldn’t want her to decide she loves you more than me, now would I?”
“Absolutely not. I get quite enough of her fur in my intake filters as it is. Her curling up beside my CPU like she sleeps behind your knees would be significantly more than I could tolerate, purring or no.” Alex smiled at the seriousness in Sylvie’s tone.
“So, Sylvie, what do I have on my schedule this evening? I get to take the night off, right,” asked Alex as he scrubbed away the last day’s grime. He knew quite well that he had a potentially busy night, but there was always a chance he’d forgotten something.
“You wish. First you need to pick up my new memory and storage. Jack left a message saying they had come in. Shall I play it?”
“No thanks.” Alex had hoped to surprise Sylvie with the needed upgrades. “That’s what I get for trying to surprise you, I guess.”
“The day I actually run out of memory because you forgot to pick up upgrades will be the day you surprise me,” Sylvie said. “Not that I have any wish to be surprised that way, of course. Second, you owe Kawashira san his cracker box. He called while you were sleeping and was most… insistent. He sounded rather unhappy regarding the three day delay. Shall I return the call for you and inform him that you will deliver the cracker this evening in the usual fashion?”
“But of course, mon cheri,” said Alex using his best faux French accent. “That’s all I remember for tonight. Anything I’m missing?” Alex knew the answer would be no.
“Yes."
Alex was surprised enough he stopped scrubbing. What had he forgotten? Jack and Kawashira san was all he’d put on the calendar for tonight.
“OK.... What am I missing?”
“You need to eat.”
Alex had pointedly ignored the ache of hunger for several weeks, and every day it had got worse. Hell, it had taken years to train himself to ignore hunger’s nightly call. But Sylvie’s reminder had brought his suppressed need to the forefront of his mind, and there would be no more suppressing it.
Alex whispered “That’s a particularly cruel thing to say, Sylvie. If you’d wanted to be sure I was awake, it’d have been kinder to suddenly drop the water temperature to 1 degree.” Maybe he could distract Sylvie with a change of subject.
“I wasn’t aware you needed to be woken up further. Your pulse, respiration, and brainwaves all indicate you’re fully awake. If you’re still feeling tired, I can change the music back to In Nominae Projectus.”
“No," Alex shouted, all attempts to distract Sylvie driven from his mind. His revulsion at the thought of being forced to listen to INP again dragged him out the lassitude he’d started sliding into.
“As you wish. Your attempt to change the subject won’t work this time either. I’m serious - you haven’t eaten in three months, Alex, and you can’t wait much longer. I also urge you to eat before meeting Kawashira san on the off chance he’s concluded you should commit involuntary seppuku.”
Damn, thought Alex. Damn damn damn damn damn....
Alex dressed quickly, chiseling his pale and gaunt features with a black turtleneck, chinos, and suede cowboy boots that gave him two extra inches. He slicked his hair back out of his face with gel that dried to the consistency of a blood soaked rag. And he topped it all off with a black London Fog overcoat and fedora. If he was going to play the predator tonight, he might as well dress the part. He looked himself over in the mirror and smiled a predatory grin.
“My, don’t we look the neo retro criminal this evening,” chimed in Sylvie. Her tone was not kind. “You look positively dressed to kill.”
Sylvie’s sarcasm cut him to the bone and Alex’s grin collapsed. “Dammit, Sylvie. You’re the one who reminded me I had to eat again. I do not enjoy this. It sucks, having to do this just to survive. Sucks big time.”
“Then why were you standing there with a wolfish grin on your face,” Sylvie demanded.
Alex sighed. “Because it’s hard not to anticipate feeding. It’s part of who I am, even if I despise it. And while I hate to admit it, staying in control seems harder these days. But I am still in control...”
“I’m glad to hear that, Alex,” said Sylvie. Her voice carried quite a bit more compassion than it had a moment ago. “You did, after all, ask me to remind you of what you must do in the harshest terms I could come up with at the time. As I recall, you said it helped you stay human, and it helped to keep the predator inside you under control.”
“Did I,” Alex asked absentmindedly.
“I can replay your words verbatim if you like”
“That won’t be necessary,” sighed Alex. “My memory is just fine. I’ve only totally lost it once, Sylvie, but it scared the piss out of me.”
Alex remembered it all too well. He’d driven himself nearly to starvation by refusing to eat anything for over a year. He’d been so exhausted, so ravenous, that he’d lost control over the predator within. He was living in Connecticut at the time, and his hunger had dragged him to Penfield Beach and to a large illegal bonfire attended by over 30 local college students.
He hadn’t been able to stop himself, and eleven students had died before his hunger was sated. Fourteen others were seriously wounded, and the rest fled the carnage. The city of Fairfield had hauled away several dump trucks of blood-soaked sand and the old dance hall/concession building had needed a thorough sandblasting and repainting.
Alex shivered at the memories. Thinking about it terrified him even now. It had taken him nearly another decade to determine how often he had to eat in order to be sure he never lost control again. Approximately once every three months. Or slightly less.
Alex stood long before the mirror, gazing deep into the abyss of his own eyes. When he could nearly feel the abyss staring back at him, he tore himself away from his own reflection. His eyes settled on the only photo in his penthouse.
“Have the kids married yet,” he asked.
“No, but Sarah is dating again, and your grandson approves of the guy. Paul’s out of the closet and is currently looking for yet another job and a new partner.”
Alex’s eyes lost focus as his mind wandered back to that horrible day so long ago. “You know, sometimes I wonder if I did the right thing, back then. Christine would never have forgiven me had she known.”
“You did what you felt you had to, Alex.”
“I left my kids without a father, Sylvie, and left my wife so utterly alone that she shot up heroin to deal with the pain. I was a royal bastard.” Alex thought he’d dealt with the guilt of abandoning his family so many years ago. Every time he fed he relearned how wrong he was.
“Perhaps you were, but they don’t know that. All they know is that a foundation in your name, funded anonymously, has always provided for the family. They don’t know where the money comes from, and it’s been eighteen years since the last investigation into the foundation’s donors turned up nothing. Your family remembers you fondly, Alex, and they miss you. You did what you felt was right, and your reasons were noble. Never forget that.”
Alex wasn’t feeling particularly noble at the moment. “If I actually had any honor, I’d off myself and do the world a heap of good,” he said. “But I’m too scared of what comes next, whether I’m pushing up daisies or going to hell.”
Alex paused to steel himself for the night’s excursions and remembered an old phrase he’d heard as a normal child. “So instead, I shall again ply the night winds.”
Alex walked over to the entryway and picked up his keys off the H.R. Giger end table. “I’ll be back late, Sylvie. I’d tell you not to wait up, but you always do.”
“Of course. As if I could do anything less.”
Smiling sadly, he gathered up Kawashira san’s cracker and opened the door to leave. “No, I suppose not. Link me if anything changes, ok?”
“Of course.”
Alex left his Midtown apartment building and drove toward one of the few descent ramps from the new streets of New York down into the Undercity. Every time he went down on to New York’s original streets, the changes he’s lived through sent him tripping and stumbling down memory lane.
Gotham had faded dramatically since it’s heyday. The Midwest factories and power plants kicked up so much acid rain that it dissolved any building unprotected by corrosion resistant facades. As a result, most of the 19th and 20th century buildings had been demolished as they melted. The Chrysler Building and the Empire State Building had been saved from the acid rain only to be blown down by a Cat 5 hurricane, taking several adjacent buildings with them. As the historic buildings had melted away, they took with them much of New York’s soul. New skyscrapers were built to replace the old ones, but they had failed to rejuvenate a city from which business had already fled. After all, global heating had stopped pushing sea levels inexorably upward and had started shoving – hard. Storm and flood insurance was nearly impossible to come by in New York as the lower levels of the newest skrapers went under water.
The new streets of Manhattan were suspended by fullercable and carbon composite I beams above where climatologists were estimating the sea level to stop rising, about 30 meters above sea level. The original streets and surviving buildings of the Lower Eastside, the East Village, Little Italy, Chinatown, and Stuyvesant were now called the Undercity, and they suffered – acid runoff from the city above, no municipal investment of any kind, and precious little law presence made the Undercity one of North America’s more dangerous slums.
Alex’s vintage 1984 Land Cruiser wasn’t safe from thieves down into the Undercity, but Jack’s shop was too far from the nearest subway stop to walk the distance safely. Leaving the main city streets at the Manhattan Bridget exit, Alex fired up his after market military sensors and hoped the residents wouldn’t take exception to his arrival.
The Undercity was a nasty place, and not just because it was a waste-filled slum. The few cops patrolling “down Under” were either too violent for normal city beats or were being punished by the Chief, and even those cops rarely strayed from the relative safety of the ramps and the rare bits of valuable Undercity real estate that still existed. It was always wet and cold, and given he dearth of street lights, it was never brighter than twilit.
There were no official markets in the Undercity, only the black market, and Alex had used it a lot over the years. He could have bought anything down here; sex slaves high on Tempt and aching to please, a new set of eyes freshly plucked from the so called donor’s sockets, or a minigun preloaded with a 5000 round belt of .36 caliber armor piercing minigrenades. All anyone needed was the right contact, a reference, and lots of cash.
The Undercity was the kind of place where everyone was both hunter and hunted. It was perfectly Darwinian and utterly brutal. And New Yorkers wonder why the residents are paranoid, thought Alex. Of course, they’re really not paranoid. After all, you’re not paranoid if someone really is out to get you.
Alex’s sensors IDed some hunters on infrared and experience told him they were tracking his descent. He knew that his restored navy blue gas powered truck meant he was rich by their terms. The gas in his tank was a highly valuable black market item all by itself, and the Land Cruiser would have been more at home in a museum than down here. With any luck, the hunters tracking his car would leave it alone this time. Hadn’t he taught them enough lessons over the years?
Alex had taught the Undercity that he was not to be screwed with, and the few who didn’t heed the stories about the man in the navy blue Land Cruiser had learned their lesson in a very hard and very final way.
Alex pulled off onto a side street and drove down to Jack Finn’s Hardware Emporium. He turned off the engine and watched the sensors for several minutes, waiting for some idiot to attack. When no one did, he opened the car door, stepped out into the street, and nonchalantly put his fedora on his head. Hopefully his demeanor would psyche out anyone about to attack him. He waited a few seconds until he was satisfied he wasn’t about to be shot, and then stepped over and rang Jack’s doorbell.
A thick pane of plexiglas, scratched and pitted by acid, bullets, and shrapnel, slammed down behind Alex. If he hadn’t been here so many times before, it would have made him jump out of his skin. It had the first six times.
The voice coming out of the door speaker was distorted by static. “Alex, is that you?”
“Yeah, Jack, it’s me. Send out the box and I’ll put the autopistol in it for safe keeping.”
“Right," said the distorted voice. An old bank teller drawer, set askew in heavy steel plating next to the door, popped out and opened with a vague smell of rancid meat. Alex put his only weapon, a small autopistol, into the drawer. When the drawer closed, the door in front of Alex unlocked and opened.
Jack was a short man, only about 1.5 meters tall, and going paunchy and thin on top. Paranoid even toward his friends, he looked more skittish tonight than usual, and he was holding a mop. Alex had known Jack for years and this was the first time he’d seen Jack with a mop. Alex raised an eyebrow and asked, “What’s up, Jack?”
“I had a break in a couple of days ago. Bitch snuck in a blade my scanner didn’t recognize. Nearly stuck me before I blew her guts all over the rack of processors over there. Sorry about the smell, but upgrading the scanner took priority over cleaning up. I was just about to start.”
So that’s what the smell was, Alex thought as his stomach growled.
“Not a problem,” Alex reassured. “Sylvie said you had the memory and storage I ordered. Any problems with it?”
“Not that I saw, Alex. But please, check it yourself.” Jack pulled a 10 cm cube out of a large fire safe and handed it to Alex. “Holographic storage can be tricky, and we don’t want Sylvie going psycho because she hits a bad sector or two. Need a scanner?”
“Nope, got my own, as always,” responded Alex. He pulled a holomemory scanner out of his overcoat and activated the autoscan. The memory was high grade and dense enough that it would take a minute or two to verify its perfection.
“Alex, can I ask you a question?” Jack was standing next to the fire safe, and he looked nervous.
“You just did,” said Alex with a thin smile. “But sure. What’s up?”
Jack’s face showed a mix of suspicion and curiosity. “How come you don’t carry a blade or any other holdout weapon except that autopistol? You a combat artist or something?”
“Or something,” chuckled Alex. “The way I figure it, if I get attacked, I’ll burn through the clip so fast it’ll be empty before someone could turn it on me. And you can’t kill me with a weapon I don’t have, now can you?”
Alex’s stomach growled loudly and he felt the hungry predator inside strain against his self control.
“Nope, I suppose not,” said Jack. And the gun ain’t good for much else but a club if you’ve burned through the ammo first.” Alex barely registered when the scanner beeped and flashed a green LED.
Alex leaned toward Jack and breathed deep the shop’s putrid air, savoring it as a connoisseur sniffs fine wine. Alex was distantly aware of Jack noticing him, but Jack’s sudden fear just made him all the more enticing. The smell of rancid human meat, fresh healthy blood, and a little fear to spice it all up it was nearly irresistible.
Jack backed away quickly, trying to put the bulk of the fire safe between himself and Alex. “Alex, are you ok man?”
It felt like an eternity before Alex could force his inner predator back down enough to risk movement and turn away. He shook from the effort of keeping himself from murdering Jack, and he hugged himself to stop the shaking. Once he’d recovered some, he pulled out the cash he owed and laid it on the counter.
“I’ll be fine, Jack. Sorry to scare you. Here’s what I owe you, plus a little something for the kids. Oh, and I still need the hard storage.”
Jack nodded and, with hands vibrating, handed Alex the hard storage. Alex put everything into his pockets and turned to leave, stopping before the door.
“Jack, do me a favor,” said Alex without turning around. “Close up, pull the blast shutters, and head upstairs. Say ‘Hi’ to Marty and the kids for me. But whatever you do, don’t go out tonight. Cancel whatever plans you have and stay home. I’ve got a bad feeling about tonight, Jack, and I value you too much to put you at any more risk than I already have. Stay home tonight, and stay safe.”
Alex had never asked Jack this before. Then again, Alex had never come this close to feeding on his friend before either. He hoped that Jack would listen, and he waited for Jack’s answer before hitting the exit button.
“You got it, Alex.”
Alex hit the exit, collected his pistol from the secure drawer, and climbed into his undisturbed Land Cruiser. He waited in the truck until the Emporium went into lockdown mode. Jack, at least, would be safe tonight.
Undercity Gotham will continue with Part 2 tomorrow.