The Nero Protocol Read online

  "My boyfriend died," Elias said.

  Ario laid the plate on a battered, plastic lawn table that had the initials of former squatters carved into it.

  "Perfect. Just the way I like them. How did you know?" Elias raised an eyebrow in surprise.

  "Statistically, most people prefer their eggs over easy. Therefore, by making them so, I had the greatest chance of making an acceptable meal. I'm sorry about your boyfriend."

  "You could have just asked how I liked them." Elias ignored the comment about his boyfriend. He didn't want to think about Brynn, even though this whole situation brought forth a slew of memories. Having a male companion again was going to be difficult, yet something in his heart told him it was time. He wanted this. He needed someone, anyone, and better a synth than a fellow homeless person with an addiction.

  "I was going to wake you soon, anyway," Ario said. "Do you want to talk about your boyfriend? I am programmed with counseling and therapy, for clients with psychological or personal problems. As explained in the brochure, the Gigolo Maxx aims to please, in more than just a sexual way. Statistics show that many customers seek out prostitutes in order to obtain relief from stress and depression."

  "Oh." Silence fell between them as Elias shoveled the eggs into his mouth. He didn't want to talk about Brynn, especially in a roundabout way. He'd talked enough about Brynn. It didn't bring him back from the dead. It didn't erase the crystal-clear memory of Brynn's head being severed from his body as they crashed in slow-motion, nor the sight of his dead eyes staring accusingly.

  "Elias, are you okay?" Ario asked.

  "No, I'm not okay. I haven't been okay for the last ten years, and you asking about it won't change that." He regretted the words as soon as they passed his lips. "Sorry."

  "What was his name? Your boyfriend?"

  "Brynn. Stupid name, really. Like someone couldn't decide between Brian and Glenn, so they went with both."

  "He was… important to you?"

  "He was everything to me. Brynn was my whole world. We were going to be synth techs together. We were going to shake the world on its foundations and make life better for synths. So much for that. I never graduated, and Dad threw me out. Mom left him years before, but she didn't want me either, especially bitter and broken. So I drifted. It's easier this way. If things get too rough, I can always split and go somewhere nobody knows me. Maybe I'll buy that bus ticket soon and we can go together."

  "How did I come to factor into this?" Ario asked.

  "That's a good question. I don't know. All I know is that when I saw you in that dumpster—all broken up—it reminded me of how I used to feel in the old days. Angry. Passionate about a cause. I actually felt like I cared about something for once. It's been a long time since I felt that way." Elias lay his head down on the table, savoring the coolness of the plastic table against his skin. He needed to think. He wanted a shower. He had to get hold of some synth tools and fix Ario's arm. Then he needed to figure out just what he was going to do with a Gigolo Maxxx synth. He didn't need Ario. He certainly didn't plan to use him, but the thought of selling him was repulsive. At least he would treat Ario well. Selling him back to the black market was not an option, even if it would make him rich enough to start a new life.

  "I'm going to find some tools and fix your arm," Elias continued. "I want you to stay here. Keep out of sight. If people see a synth wandering around alone in this part of town, you're likely to get picked up by the Department."

  "There is a high probability they would decommission me, as you've said. I will remain inside."

  "Yeah. Gigolo synths are a reminder of a difficult past. Cybot Corp would rather we forget they used to sell synths for sex slavery." Elias finished his toast and pushed the plate away. His appetite was gone just from thinking of Ario's former purpose. He stood and grabbed his backpack from his office. A shower was definitely in order if he could get one. If not, a quick rinse in a public washroom sink was going to have to do. Elias ducked into the basement and out of the trapdoor in the yard.

  A purple sky greeted him as he looked across at the city. It was caused by the atmospheric street lighting that had become fashionable in recent years, giving the regenerated inner city a colored aura from a distance. White towers rose above the skyline: expensive apartments for those with degree-level jobs. If he'd become a synth tech, he might have called one of those white towers home instead of an abandoned slum on the edge of society. He suppressed a sigh and started his long walk toward the city. The neighborhoods started to get nicer as he went, abandoned shacks turning to dated family homes, then modern dome housing followed by the city itself. Steel sidewalks greeted him, no plant or blade of grass present without a plan. The streetlights started to go out one by one, the purple hue giving way to actual daylight. Businessmen poured out from a subway entrance, eying Elias as though he posed some threat to their everyday utopia. Homelessness was supposed to have been eradicated, and to those who never left their bubble, it was easy to believe that. Elias was a walking statistic marking the failure of government and corporate design.

  Elias crossed the street and ventured into a high-end coffee shop. He brushed past corporates and synth techs on his way to the bathroom, catching snippets of the life he could have had. Two synth techs sat at a table talking shop and Elias was reminded of Brynn for a moment. He closed his eyes and sighed as he pushed open the door to the men's bathroom. It was a single bathroom and he shut the door, pulling off his clothes and washing in the sink with liquid soap. He looked himself over in the mirror. His face was drawn, the lines of age starting to set in. He was too old for the trench coat look, but it felt like just yesterday when Brynn had died. His life had been on hold for ten long years, and it hadn't mattered. He had only been wasting his own life. Now there was Ario to think about. Ario was his responsibility now. He had to provide a stable life for the synth. Brynn would have demanded it.

  He dressed in some fresher clothes from his backpack. A faded blue t-shirt that said "Synth Equality Now" and a ragged pair of black cargo pants made him look presentable. He was grateful for his thick, black combat boots, which had lasted him many years without letting in the rain.

  As he left the coffee shop, dark clouds gathered. Light rain started to fall onto the sidewalks and streets. Synths and humans alike ducked for cover, but Elias kept walking without an umbrella. The cold sting of the rain on his skin was one of the small reminders that he was still alive and not trapped in some eternal nightmare.

  Elias ducked down a grim side street and from there, down another alleyway. The daylight didn't permeate the narrow alley and the close rooftops offered some shelter from the storm. Mariko Tech sat at the end of the alley, a neon sign declaring the small electronics store was open for business, a grungy oasis in the glittering business district. Elias leaned his weight against the door and it opened with a small tinkle of a fake-sounding electronic bell.

  "Elias." Mariko stood from where she was kneeling behind the counter and turned to face her visitor. She was a young, petite Japanese woman with short black hair and a love of technology that outshone even Elias's enthusiasm. She wore a retro-chic flowered dress. A synth stood in front of her, a male housekeeping model, tall with orange hair. She had his torso open and was tinkering with some wires. "What can I do for you?"

  "I was hoping you could hook me up with a synth set." Elias pushed his rain-slicked black hair out of his face, tucking it behind his ear where rainwater proceeded to run down his neck.

  "Now why would you need that?" Mariko closed a panel on the synth and replaced his rubber skin. "Dan—you're good to go. Keep your fingers out of the electrical socket in the future, okay?" The synth nodded and walked to the door. Elias watched Dan walk through the alley and climb into a black car with tinted windows that was waiting for him on the street.

  "Synth owners are an odd bunch," Mariko explained. "His owner doesn't like being seen with a synth. Why have one, then? Somehow, I don't think Dan-209 stuck his fingers
in an electrical socket, like he claimed. From the scorch marks, it looked like he'd been hit by a stun gun."

  "Torture?" Elias stiffened. Memories flashed through his mind from his synth tech days. Humans could be the worst of masters, needlessly cruel when they thought they could get away with it, for no reason other than personal satisfaction.

  "Probably. I can't prove it, though—so don't go all justice warrior on me. The cops have been snooping around here a lot lately, hoping to pin some synth laundering charges on me. I need to keep my head down and do my job. My father can't protect me forever."

  Elias shook his head. "My activist days are over. Do you have the synth set or not?"

  "Yeah, of course." Mariko walked into the back room and rummaged around. She came back with a neat case filled with tools—wrenches, screwdrivers, and bolts he would need, the ends fashioned into Cybot proprietary shapes. Only qualified synth techs and registered trainees were allowed to have a synth set, but Mariko would break the rules for him. "I'll let you borrow it on one condition—you have to tell me why you need it."

  "I can't do that, Mariko. Come on, let it go," Elias pleaded.

  "It's a reasonable request. That synth set is registered in my name. I don't want to lose my license." Mariko stood firm and Elias realized she wasn't going to back down.

  "Fine" Elias looked around to make sure no patrons were lurking in the corners. "I found a synth."

  "Found a synth? As in, stole?" Mariko's eyes widened.

  "As in, found. He was smashed up and thrown into a dumpster down at the docks. Left for dead. He's from the Ario series."

  "Woah, a Gigolo Maxxx?" Mariko stuffed the synth set into Elias's hands so suddenly that he almost dropped it. Her face lit up like she was a young child in a candy store.

  "Yep. He's missing an arm and has taken some extensive physical damage to the face and head, but he has a self-repairing neural network. He's amazing. And he needs me."

  "Holy shit. Elias, if the Department finds him—"

  "I know. I told him to wait at the house. I registered him; don't worry." Elias kept the details to himself, fearing he'd said too much already. His eyes darted around the dusty corners of the store, as if he would see any microscopic microphone the cops might have planted.

  "It's not safe where you live. The Department has been scouting around. They're closing in on an illegal trafficking operation down there. Dad told me," Mariko said.

  "Shit. I have to get back." Elias clung to the set and bolted for the door.

  "Wait. I'm coming. I have to see this for myself." Mariko grabbed a leather jacket off a hook and threw it on. "We'll take my scooter. Come on." Mariko locked the front door of the store and led Elias to the air scooter parked at the side of the store. Tearing off a sodden blue tarp, she jumped on first, handing a helmet to Elias as he climbed on behind her. She adjusted her own helmet and started the scooter. It hovered about a foot off the ground and Mariko hit the accelerator, sending the vehicle forward with a sickening lurch that made Elias's belly roll uncomfortably.

  "Watch the speed limit, Mariko," Elias warned.

  "Relax. I haven't been pulled over for a violation since I got my license."

  "Since you got your license back, you mean," Elias said, chewing his lip.

  Mariko sped through the city, eschewing the shiny business district for the suburbs and finally, the slums. They arrived at the docklands to find a rusty white van with the words "Department of Synthetic Affairs" emblazoned on the side in fading letters parked just down the street from Elias's squat.

  "Damn it! The Department got here first," Elias hissed.

  "Shut up, Elias. Let me do the talking." Mariko pulled up behind the van and tore off her helmet. The air scooter slowly descended to solid ground and Mariko climbed off in a hurry, hanging her helmet on the handlebars. "Come on," she said. "Cover that shirt, for fuck's sake." Elias pulled his coat tightly around him and followed in Mariko's footsteps. They wandered into the yard, Mariko snatching the synth set from Elias and carrying the silver-colored plastic tool case like she was on business.

  An officer in a black combat vest shot them a quizzical glance. "I didn't call in for a synth tech, Mariko. Why are you here?"

  "Dad told me there was something unusual down here and I should check it out."

  "Yeah. We detected an attempt to forge a synth registration from an IP address originating at this location. We expected the IP was spoofed, given that this part of town is largely uninhabited, but lo and behold, we found a synth. One ready for the scrap yard, but a synth all the same. You should see it—face half torn off. Pitiful piece of shit."

  "What kind of synth is it?" Mariko asked. "Might be able to lead us back to the registry hacker." Elias wasn't sure if she was a good actor or whether he was being sold out by an old friend. Mariko wasn't the type to fuck people over for personal gain, so he assumed the former.

  "That's the thing. The serial number listed on the registration corresponded to a Gigolo Maxxx. That's why we're here. Normally, it would just be a police matter, but the Maxxx models are banned. The Department's going to take it in for decommissioning. We need to get this shit off the streets."

  Elias squirmed, but remained silent. He had to trust Mariko knew what she was doing. Her father worked for the Department. If anyone could get Ario out of this jam, it was her. If she didn't—

  He stifled the thought, putting it out of its misery before he could think it and suffer through the lurch in his stomach that would inevitably come with the thought of losing his one and only companion.

  "Of course," Mariko said. "You'll let me take a look first, though, right? I'd hate to lose what might be my last chance to see a Gigolo model before they're all gone. This is a piece of history, right here."

  "Sure, do what you like. It's just going for scrap anyway." The Department grunt stepped out of the broken doorway and let them pass. They walked past another grunt, who was searching a closet. Elias pointed right and they stepped into the office. His laptop was gone. Elias hoped Ario had it and not the Department. While it wouldn't be traceable back to him, it would be hard to find another computer like that.

  "Not in here." Mariko led the way to the next room over. Elias's mouth fell open as he walked in. In the middle of the floor lay Ario, naked and moaning beneath a Department grunt who rode his cock while stroking his own.

  "You asshole!" Elias dove across the room, pushing off Mariko's restraining arm. He flew at the man, shoving him off Ario and pinning him to the floor. Mariko shut the door to try and drown out the noise as the man protested beneath Elias's grip, torn between pleasure and pain. Elias straddled the man and punched him in the face. A satisfying crack of his nose made it spurt blood, but Elias wasn't done. All he could see was red.

  "Elias, stop!" Mariko yelled, but Elias kept punching the man, the red mist of rage overwhelming him. Ario got to his feet and pulled Elias clear, Ario's one handed-grip stronger than Elias would have expected. The Department man was unconscious, his head lolling to one side. Mariko ran over to him and pressed a clean tissue to his nose.

  "Elias, please desist." Ario pulled Elias back against his chest, restraining and comforting him at the same time.

  "Let go of me, Ario! This rapist deserves everything he gets!"

  "This is my purpose, Elias. It's okay. Please stop. I will not see humans harmed because of me." Ario's hand squeezed Elias's upper arm and the fight ebbed out of him.

  "You have to get out of here," Mariko hissed. "Climb out of the window. Hurry! I'll try to explain this mess and buy you some time. Go!"

  Ario pulled his pants and shirt back on before escorting Elias to the back window. He pushed a strong fist through the rotted boards, clearing them from the window frame until the two of them could climb through. Ario went first and pulled Elias through the gap. The door opened and Department soldiers burst in.

  "You have to help me!" Mariko screamed. "The synth hit this man and kidnapped my assistant!"

  Ar
io remained low and they skirted the house as quickly as possible, long, dry grass rustling with their movements. Ario took Elias's hand and they ran across the wasteland down towards the docks. There was no place to hide in the dead grass and the soldiers soon followed. They were chased through abandoned warehouses until Elias was gasping for breath. A hulking dead ship rusted in the dock, a looming reminder that everything becomes abandoned and useless in the end.

  "In here." Ario opened a dumpster and climbed in with one arm. Elias followed and they closed the lid. Soon they heard leather boots on concrete and the confusion of the Department grunts as they looked around in dismay.

  "We lost them. Great."

  "Put out a 404 on a Gigolo Maxx. Beat one of my guys to a pulp and kidnapped a human. Yes. Decommission on sight." The Department grunt's radio beeped as the message was relayed and he turned back to his men. "Get back to the house. We'll search that computer and see if it has any data we can use." The footsteps got further and further away. Elias's heart pounded, blood rushing in his ears like waves crashing on the beach. Ario lay against the trash, holding Elias close to him with his one arm.

  "I'm sorry," Elias whispered. "I wanted to help you, but I just made things worse." He rested his head on Ario's chest, closing his eyes as his heartbeat stabilized.

  "You tried to help. That was more than any human has done for me in a number of years."

  Elias smiled, despite his fear. It was nice to be held again, even if it was by a one-armed synth in a foul-smelling dumpster.

  "Do you suppose it's safe now?" Elias asked.

  "I don't hear anyone, but they could be waiting for us to leave the warehouse. We should wait here a little longer."

  "Ario?"

  "Yes?"

  "What happened back at the house? Why were you… with that man?" Elias tensed, his muscles taut as rubber bands as he once again saw the image of Ario in the living room with the Department officer. Pleasure on the Department grunt's face, moans coming from Ario's mouth… but that was only programming, wasn't it? A gigolo bot had to seem like he was enjoying servicing his clients, no matter if that sentiment was false.