Well, have a little something I threw together.
____________________________________________
It's
just as Ana was taught when she was young. People found wanting are
often found in both definitions, and in that is a lucrative trade. As
long as the classic sins manifest themselves in their numerous ways,
there will be someone who doesn't want to do the dirty work in order
to gain their treasures. The step from there to capitalising on such
a flaw is not a difficult one. Interestingly, or not, the process to
which Ana found herself with such knowledge at as young an age as
eleven could be described with a similar ease.
When
remembering the past, it is always best to take everything seen with
a pinch of salt. The mind does have a tendency to adjust the contrast
in the mental monitor, so that events are viewed through rose, or on
occasion shit tinted glasses. Such a process would explain why
Ana's father is recorded to have been a shining pillar of a community to which he never belonged. Perspective would account for
his unnatural height, and pure invention would be the origin of the
admittedly glorious imperial moustache that coloured Ana's memories
of when Mr Lavoie recounted to his daughter tales of his
questionable past. Whether he intended for his stories to have a
lasting effect can be merely speculated, but the fact remains that
from that time onwards, Ana knew what she wanted from her life.
Such things could be taken for granted, but the possibility remains
that had her father not inspired her as he did, perhaps she would not
be running through a central business district in an attempt to lose the security team now pursuing her.
She overlayed her vision with a local map as she bounded through some neocon's preaching about the evils of uplifts, prolonged life, and other gifts that the unholy union of the gods of science and technology had bestowed upon humanity. Planning her route took less than seconds as she fired up her implants, nanobots scurrying to connect parts of her brain where before neurons held sway, processing information far more efficiently and quickly than her organic brain ever could. Her's was an older setup, so a few seconds at a time was all she could afford, lest she burn out her brain within her skull, but in those seconds, time past in her head like a river turned glacial.
Her father wouldn't have approved. They connected on many levels, but the augmentation of what he termed the "Natural human form" repelled him. Not quite a neo-conservative, he didn't so much oppose the idea of transhumanity as much as he rejected the concept as needlessly decadent. "No family member of mine will fill their body with such frivolity. It's against the very nature of humanity". Ironically he had stumbled upon the very reason Ana had admired transhumans. They were evidence of an inevitable future that it became increasingly clear her father wouldn't be a part of. The technology was developing at a startling rate, to the point that breakthroughs were being announced every other week. Ana had loved her father, but she loved the future more. She loved it's colour, it's promise. And as she resolved to follow that path, she resolved also to take her father's more applicable teachings with her.
Teachings that had lead her to this situation. There is always work for a shadow, for someone who can keep their presence unknown in an increasingly transparent society. Corporations want the secrets of others, scientists desire research they have no claim to, and your average civilian will covet their neighbours possessions. And all will pay good money to get what they want. She had the skills and the willingness to adapt them to her ever encroaching future, so why shouldn't she get paid for it? Nonetheless, she had often struggled with one of her father's cardinal rules. Don't get caught.
A quick glance back told her she was still being chased. Her pursuers had the benefit of tireless, albeit highly temporary automata that most ground level civil protection types occupy. She had standard birth issue human legs, powered by burning carbohydrates and bolstered by a controlled but limited adrenal boost. She had to lose them fast. Nearby businesses would have already been informed of the situation, and would have initiated security procedures already, more advanced entrances arming portal deniers. No one would outright help to capture her, but they would do everything in their power to keep the trouble from effecting them. If she was unlucky enough to pick an entrance with a denier installed, she would quickly find herself neutralised by a non lethal laser grid pumping a powerful current through her body. No, she would require escape into known territory. In the seconds afforded to her to plan, she marked her route to an old friend.
_____
Lawrence Valente was not your average information broker. Or at least, that's how he tried to market himself. "There's nothing, be it past or future I do not know or cannot find out!" an avatar would exclaim from his business cards. Those who knew him returned that this was because he was so rarely in the present. "It's true, Lore has a knack for working information out of people, but try to hold a conversation with him and you'll find yourself talking to a wall." This was unfair, as while he was not known for his social graces (having to replace a torn out wetware throat with what the early days of biotech had to offer does not do wonders for one's social life), there were some precious few for whom he would afford the time of day. One of these few was the late David Lavoie. The relationship had started as so many do, through business. Information on persons and things was often required in David's line of work, though what that work was he had always been quite vague about. Nevertheless, he helped where he could and found that David would do the same. Favours were exchanged and trust grew, and when David brought in a baby girl, he swore that should anything happen to David, he would look out for her until she could look out for herself. Roughly a decade and a half later David found himself on the wrong side of a gun. The circumstances were unclear but Lawrence made sure to come through on his promise, giving an adolescent Ana Lavoie a place to live for a further few years. He had never really bonded with her in the same way he had her father, but he taught her what he could of life, shared his food and made sure she got at least a baseline education. She knew he would shelter her should she require it.
He was broken out of a trance by a persistent ringing in his head. Someone was at his door, alerting him to their presence with increasing insistence. He brought up the door's camera feed, and found himself faced with a familiar, if somewhat frantic face. He addressed with as much amicability as his synthetic hiss would allow.
"Ana! I am surprised to see you. Not ininin an unwelcome way you understand why I wasss just consideriiiing how long it-t-t had been since I had seen you lasssssst."
"LorepleaseopenthedoorquicklyIneedhelphurryhurryhurry."
"Of course, dear girl, one ssssecond-d-d"
"NowLorehurryplease."
Ana heard the apartment security disengage and was on the other side of the door in seconds. She only dared breathe when she heard the lock click back into place behind her.
"Welcome back, Ana."
"Hey Lore. Sorry for the rushed entry. I was just, ah, out. Running."
"From something n-n-no doubt."
Ana had heard the faulty electrolarynx many times, but it still unsettled her. She could have used some augmented reality overlay but that seemed disrespectful to the man who had looked after her for however short a time.
"Would you li-like a drink? Come into the kitchennn."
"You're a lifesaver."
"What do you want?"
She paused before answering. Something was wrong here. He held her gaze a second too long and in his eyes she caught a little something like...guilt. An unspoken warning. "What's the matter, Lore?"
He produced a mechanical crackle that she knew to be a laugh "What-t-tever do you mean? Come into the kitchen." That look again. A ring at the door. She froze.
"You never could lie to me, Lore."
"I'm so sorry Ana. They got here before you."
A suited man stepped out from the kitchen. "Ana Lavoie, I am arresting you on behalf of Sjintech. Please come quietly and no harm will come to you or your friend."
She ran.
Current surged through her body.
She fell.
Darkness.
___________________
TBC. Probably.
_____
Lawrence Valente was not your average information broker. Or at least, that's how he tried to market himself. "There's nothing, be it past or future I do not know or cannot find out!" an avatar would exclaim from his business cards. Those who knew him returned that this was because he was so rarely in the present. "It's true, Lore has a knack for working information out of people, but try to hold a conversation with him and you'll find yourself talking to a wall." This was unfair, as while he was not known for his social graces (having to replace a torn out wetware throat with what the early days of biotech had to offer does not do wonders for one's social life), there were some precious few for whom he would afford the time of day. One of these few was the late David Lavoie. The relationship had started as so many do, through business. Information on persons and things was often required in David's line of work, though what that work was he had always been quite vague about. Nevertheless, he helped where he could and found that David would do the same. Favours were exchanged and trust grew, and when David brought in a baby girl, he swore that should anything happen to David, he would look out for her until she could look out for herself. Roughly a decade and a half later David found himself on the wrong side of a gun. The circumstances were unclear but Lawrence made sure to come through on his promise, giving an adolescent Ana Lavoie a place to live for a further few years. He had never really bonded with her in the same way he had her father, but he taught her what he could of life, shared his food and made sure she got at least a baseline education. She knew he would shelter her should she require it.
He was broken out of a trance by a persistent ringing in his head. Someone was at his door, alerting him to their presence with increasing insistence. He brought up the door's camera feed, and found himself faced with a familiar, if somewhat frantic face. He addressed with as much amicability as his synthetic hiss would allow.
"Ana! I am surprised to see you. Not ininin an unwelcome way you understand why I wasss just consideriiiing how long it-t-t had been since I had seen you lasssssst."
"LorepleaseopenthedoorquicklyIneedhelphurryhurryhurry."
"Of course, dear girl, one ssssecond-d-d"
"NowLorehurryplease."
Ana heard the apartment security disengage and was on the other side of the door in seconds. She only dared breathe when she heard the lock click back into place behind her.
"Welcome back, Ana."
"Hey Lore. Sorry for the rushed entry. I was just, ah, out. Running."
"From something n-n-no doubt."
Ana had heard the faulty electrolarynx many times, but it still unsettled her. She could have used some augmented reality overlay but that seemed disrespectful to the man who had looked after her for however short a time.
"Would you li-like a drink? Come into the kitchennn."
"You're a lifesaver."
"What do you want?"
She paused before answering. Something was wrong here. He held her gaze a second too long and in his eyes she caught a little something like...guilt. An unspoken warning. "What's the matter, Lore?"
He produced a mechanical crackle that she knew to be a laugh "What-t-tever do you mean? Come into the kitchen." That look again. A ring at the door. She froze.
"You never could lie to me, Lore."
"I'm so sorry Ana. They got here before you."
A suited man stepped out from the kitchen. "Ana Lavoie, I am arresting you on behalf of Sjintech. Please come quietly and no harm will come to you or your friend."
She ran.
Current surged through her body.
She fell.
Darkness.
___________________
TBC. Probably.
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