Chapter Six: October 219th, 2159

...At the risk of sounding heretical, I ask you to please keep our silicon and
titanium brethren in your prayers, that God may protect these defenseless
creatures from the assassin lurking in the shadows between the neon. Already
five of these defenseless creatures have been destroyed. To those who object to
this intention, I remind you that these lover Mechas are of themselves
blameless, it is what we Orgas use them for that is sinful...

* * * * * *

"So are you going to the Danse Macabre tomorrow night?" Cecie asked Kip and
Phila as they headed out of the chapel after Mass Sunday morning.

"I don't know: after seeing some of the awful costumes in the stores, I don't
know if we should," Phila said. "Besides, isn't there something a little satanic
about Halloween?"

"Not satanic, just dark," Cecie said. "It's the old Celtic new year's day, when
the druids offered sacrifices to propitiate and drive back the dark gods who
threatened to blot out the sun and plunge the world into eternal night, with the
shortened days as a harbinger of things to come, and to ensure the safety of the
souls of the departed of the year before."

"Sort of like a pre-Christian All Souls' Day. They were just trying to put in a
good word with the big kahuna, as they knew him, for the souls of the deceased:
'Hey, Celtic big kahuna, I'm offering this, my best cow, on behalf of my brother
Seamus who died during the year. Use my merit, miserable as it is, to go back
and help him die a good death -- and find out Who really is the big kahuna'."

"That's one way of looking at it. The Church built off it, just as grace builds
off nature, and the way the whole liturgical calendar echoes the cycle of the
natural year," Cecie said.

"I am, as well as I can in these times which try the very fibers of one's being,"
Joe said. "Have you heard that yet another Mecha murder has occurred?"

"Yeah, Frank told us about it right before Mass," Cecie said. "He and Bernie
left right after Mass so Frank could go home and rest for awhile."

"It's weird that Hal keeps insisting on working on the photos on his own
computer instead of the ones at the newspaper office," Phila noted.

"Frank says Hal's just trying to protect his investment in his computer and that
camera," Kip said. "You can't blame him, really, but he almost makes it awkward
for the paper."

He has a standing order with an old dowager who reigns from one of the towers,
Joe said. He shall not be freed of her for most of the morning: but he will
page me as soon as she gives him leave to roam free once more. She has said she
might buy Julien from Mr. Flyte for the little rascals weight in platinum. She
can well afford it.

I went for a walk, but I had to turn back, because I spotted something and I
had to pass on the information to Burnstead, Cecie said.

Fortunately for us all, it was not I, Joe said coldly. The Orgas of the Red
Zone have no use for Mechas of my capability; they do not deserve me any way.
Then with a proud little smile, he added, I had the good fortune to be engaged
with a young lady just learning the ways of tenderness.

Lucky you were: if you stumbled onto the scene of the latest crime and someone
who had spotted the weird guy saw you, theyd think you were him, Cecie said.

I figured it out he wasnt you: he didnt carry himself the same way and he had
a gash across his right cheek, not sealed over well.

Yeah, there was one last bit that sealed it: he didnt dance when he walked,
you know the way Joe dances when he walks, Cecie said. This guy just strode
down the street, all on autopilot, like he had some place to be and he couldnt
waste time on things like looking good.

Yeah, I told Inspector Burnstead about it. He wasnt quite convinced, but he
wouldnt rule out the possibility, either. The thing had been spotted in
Kentucky a week after the Omaha incident.

I suppose youre doing the right thing by helping the investigation and you owe
it to the inspector for clearing you, Phila said. But arent you putting
yourself at risk?

A few minutes later, Frank came out of the back bedroom, arms in front of him
zombie-like, an empty coffee cup balanced on his head.

Need coffee, he murmured tonelessly. He took the coffee cup down and put it on
the sink. I snoozed for about forty-five minutes, but then I woke up and
couldnt get back to sleep for anything.

I did not know him well: he belonged to a procurer on the north side of the
city, Joe replied. He eyed the datascriber stylus sticking out of Franks shirt
pocket. Will this go into your written account for the Broadsheet?

Frank shrugged and got up to fill his coffee cup. Sure, though mind you,
theyre rather graphic. Someone really hacked at this poor guy.

He took a sip of coffee, set down the cup and went into the bedroom. He came
back with a plastic folder, which he opened and laid out on the table. Disks, a
printout of the draft of the text, and three 8X10 glossy photos with a label on
the back written out in Hals spidery handwriting.

Cecie studied the photos. The first showed Burnstead and a tech kneeling beside
the draped body of the victim; the second two showed just the victim, a Mecha
with dark blond hair. His faceplate had been smashed in and the middle of his
forehead cut into. The jaws had been torn open so that the lower jaw lay on the
neck, showing the skull beneath the silicon skin. One arm lay at an odd angle as
if it had been torn from the socket. The chest lay split open as if the attacker
had torn the ribs from the breastbone, or whatever a Mecha had there. Bits of
metal viscerae and fiber optic cabling and lucite chip boards lay scattered on
the ground.

The third photo resembled the second, except that the victim lay alone;
someones well-shod foot could be seen near the victims head.

Hal wouldnt do that. If he was gonna get on something, it would be something
bigger n a box: a trash can or a tree branch or a windowsillor my shoulders.

Joes pager trilled. He took it in hand like a nineteenth century gentleman
looking at his pocket watch. Julien has escaped from his gilded cage, he said.

* * * * * *

The sun set at the same time as before: he worked only by the sun as far as he
could see it. He had huddled long enough in the dank little hole below the level
of the river where he had been hiding himself. Rats and other vermin had crept
out of their nooks in the walls of his chamber; he had caught them with his
hands and crushed the life from them. They had been easy to catch: he smelled
like nothing to them. But the time to move had come; time to get his orders for
the night. Perhaps a time to receive payment for his labors, or time to give
back to the boss. Or time to kill. Or, better yet, all three.

Pain. He kept his pain keened to knife-edge, which counterbalanced with the
heightened pleasure he sensed. The two together made a strange cocktail. Perhaps
he would drink deeply of it tonight.

* * * * * *

Time to see how the apple cart would get upset tonight, time to see what would
roll off tonight. Jay would be looking for his cut and he needed it himself

* * * * * *

Cecie arrived at the Langiers at 17.30 on the button. She didnt see Joe,
hadnt seen him anywhere. The streets had been weirdly empty all day and even
that evening, especially empty of male lover Mechas. Concerned owners had
doubtlessly kept them off the streets. Perhaps Mr. Flyte had likewise kept Joe
indoors and out of harms way. She couldnt fault him for that. But shed made
and appointment with Joe and that had to be respected.

She hoped he wouldnt bring Julien along, but Flyte probably required it. No,
not that pest! She ground her teeth at the thought as she knocked on the
Langiers door.

A jack o lantern glowed in the window, probably Kips work: at brunch hed
talked about carving jack o lanterns with a drill press at his garage and
soaking the finished work in a pumpkin preservative hed bought in Camden.
Something banged the inside of the door. It flew open and a dark figure strode
out onto the doorstep, clad in a black trenchcoat over a heavy black jersey,
black cargo pants and combat shoes. Black rimless sunglasses hid his eyes.

Kinda, your get up reminds me of when I was in high school and the kids used to
annoy me at Halloween by trying to dress like me.

The more eyes you have, the more eyes there will be to see the maleficent,
Julien added as he and Joe stepped out of the shadows to join Frank and Cecie.

Should you really be tagging along, Julien? Cecie asked. Wouldnt you rather
be safe back at the Perfumed Alcove?, referring to Flytes headquarters.

They came at length to a narrow alleyway that opened off a small square. Okay,
Sir Julien, if youre so brave, you go see if theres anything suspicious
lurking in that square, Frank ordered.

Julien found no one more suspicious than a few older model female lover Mechas,
who mistook him for an Orga. He refused them delicately; they could not enjoy
fully what he could give them and with his DAS as high as it was, he could not
savor their presence either. He had his orders.

A low groan rose from the alleyway. He stiffened, ready to flee. He started to
approach the alley mouth, a square portal opening onto blackness, not a gleam of
light to relieve it. Even his night vision could not penetrate the gloom. Had
the killer -- ?

Another deep wail rose, echoing off the walls and the ceiling. The lubricating
fluid in his joints and the hydraulics in his torso ran cold.

A mask of a face lunged out of the void, hollow-cheeked, mouth gaping, lit by an
eerie blue-white light. The tongue, purplish and flabby, lay loose over the
lower fangs.

Another scream split the stillness, Juliens own cry, escaping his voice
synthesizer. Overriding his valiant intentions, he fled, running as fast as his
short legs could carry him, his servos whirring madly. The soles of his shoes
barely touched the steps of the escalator as he ran up it; he didnt stop until
he safely reached the tower where Flyte lived and had his business.

* * * * * *

Bye-bye, Julien; I hope you dont meet any real horrors, Frank said, as the
three of them stepped out of the alleyway. Amazing what you Mechas do when your
DAS is too high.

I talked with Burnstead on the phone today: he seems to think the killer is
hiding inn the Lower Deck by day and coming out at night to do his dirty work.
Theres a method to his madness, whoever he is.

Thats very possible, too, Frank said. But most of the time, women hire
someone to do the work for them, and a hired blade would have ripped the neural
cubes out to begin with, not sneak down to the morgue to swipe them and then
remember to take the cubes. Oh year, and the killer wised up: last nights
victim had its neural cube ripped out.

He ruled out everyone who could have done it who had easy access to the morgue.
The techs knew absolutely nothing about it and the few others who went in and
out didnt know how to unlock a dead Mechas faceplate.

They ascended to the Upper Deck in thoughtful silence, bracing themselves for
the chill wind which blew down the shaft to them, echoing off the sides in low
moans. Cecie gripped Joes arm, feeling foolishly like a kid at a horror flick.
Joe caressed her hand with his warm fingers.

Main Plaza lay all but deserted, except for a few lonely souls flitting along,
heads bent, glancing up over turned up collars, looking for something likely, or
the Mechas passing by offering them the shelter of a warm pair of arms. Few
needed further coaxing out of the reach of the cold.

The jazz and the grinding rock music from the clubs had died down to a low roar
almost low enough for the wind to drown out and distort. The hawkers cries
echoed dim and distant, mere tonal jetsam on the wash of the wind.

First stop is the Do as You Like Hotel, see where and if Hal McGeever goes out.
If so, were following him wherever he goes, Frank said.

They walked in the light for as long as they could along the main streets and by
ways. Joe knew a shortcut to the Hotel, so he led the way for several dozen
yards.

Come on, Hal, dont you have an appointment with someone or something? Frank
murmured. What about the source thats giving you the alternate takes?

As if in answer, the door of the hotel opened and Hal emerged onto the stoop. He
paused and patted his pockets, then stepped down to the street, heading deeper
into the Zone.

Keeping to the shadows, they walked as quietly and quickly as they could,
keeping Hal in sight. Their path turned down and alleyway, plunging into the
very depths of the Red Zone, the same neighborhood where Cecie had spotted the
stranger the night before. The memory still hovered at the surface of her
recall; Cecies hand clung to Joes hand for comfort, for strength.

They walked single file, keeping Hal in sight, but not so close that he would
hear them, Joe, walking before Cecie, her hand in his, walked the most silently
of all: she couldnt hear his footsteps; aside from an occasional rustle of his
coat, he hardly let out a sound to give his presence away. The night and the
wind drowned out every other sound from his person.

Hal stopped near an alley between a convenience store and an empty building. He
paced slowly back and forth, whistling In the Hall of the Mountain King. He
turned the collar of his coat up, then flipped it down.

They watched where they could see and not be seen from the recessed doorway of
an empty storefront. They looked toward the freight elevator hub, watching for
movement.

A long shadow fell along the sickly-lit pavement, down the middle of the street,
a shadow that sifted and moved slowly toward them, unfolding itself.

A pair of black-shod feet trailed the shadow; Cecies eye swung up the newcomer:
the black pants of coarse material over legs as shapely as Joes; the black
frock coat, likewise of the same coarse cloth, of a familiar cut, the white
shirt, strangely spotless.

The face lifted and turned toward them, so like Joes face, and yet so alien:
the same finely molded features like the face of a Greek statue, and yet so
animalno, lower than an animal; the face of a beautiful creature moved by an
unhinged mind. The eyes all but lacked any color except the palest shade of
gray-blue.

The figure lifted on his toes and turned toward Hal. For the first time, Cecie
noticed a real similarity between Joe and this other.

What do you want of me tonight? Jay replied. The voice was Joes husky tenor,
but devoid of accent, even a flat American accent. What do you have for me
tonight?

Ive got a heartbeat simulator with your name on it, but its still beating
right now, Hal said. He reached inside his coat and took out a photo. Its
name is Florent, another European job, Swiss-made, I think. Might give you some
trouble, but not like the last one.

Cecie could see no trace of the license tag that should have been implanted on
Jays chest, unless he had it elsewhere. But she realized there was a deep, wide
gash in his dermis, baring the fibers and metallic viscerae, as if the tag had
been removed.

Go to it, Jay and dont forget: the cube, boy, the cube. He kneaded Jays
shoulder with one hand; the Mecha started to lean down to him, but Hal pushed
him back. Nope, nope, not time for that yet. Not till youve done your nights
work, boy.

Hal reached into his breast pocket and took out a pack of cigarettes, took one
out, then fumbled in his pocket again. he reached into another, coming up
empty-handed.

Thats not half as bad as destroying those Mechas in the first place, or
getting a Mecha to help you with the destructions. The whole cocktail shaken
together is downright criminal, Frank said. You got your cellphone, Cecie?

Okay, you keep an eye on Cecie, Joe. Get her out of her if anyone or anything
shows up, Frank said. Make sure she gets back home in one piece.

Joe led her out onto a street half-tamed by fizzling klieg lights. A few
vagrants and pushers tried to approach them, but Joe sent them away with a
snappy reply and led Cecie on toward the safety of the zone around Main Plaza.

I was out here looking for a little atmosphere for one of my latest works in
progress, Cecie said. I just got a little more than I wanted.

But of course, Little Miss St. Marys of the Lace Curtain Ladies Finishing
School, Hal sneered. He followed them, trailing their very steps. He helping
you with yourresearch?

Hal stepped in front of them blocking their path. Maybe it means yer tired of imitation flesh, Hal said, his head tilted back at an angle to minimize the fact that he had to look up at her. How about you get yerself a nice bit o man flesh for a change, eh? He reached up to her
shoulder. Nice and well-seasoned, a little tough, but youll get used to it. He dragged his hand down her front, down to her breast.

She knocked his hand aside and kneed him in the groin. This hardly deterred him;
he went at her again. She stomped on his foot, which made him lose his grip.

I asked you to take your hands from her, Joe insisted, his voice rising. He
pulled Cecie away from Hal. She grabbed Joe around the neck and crushed her face
against his, kissing him so hard their teeth clacked against each other. Joe
leaned his shoulder against the wall beside them.

Ignoring Hals obscene insults, Cecie hung onto Joe, pulling herself up on
tiptoe. She twined one leg around his hip, trying to pull herself up. Joes
hands slid down the small of her back to her buttocks and, supporting her this
way, hoisted her up, helping her get the other leg around him, which was awkward
to say the least, on account of her long skirt. Cecie leaned her weight back,
pulling Joe away from the wall; Joe countered the gravity by kneeling as they
dropped to the ground, breaking the fall slightly. He landed on top of her,
covering her completely, pinning her to the pavement.

Oh well, maybe I can join in, Hal said, leaning over them. AAaauuGGHhh!
In an almost knee-jerk reaction, Joes foot horse-kicked up and back; Cecie
heard the unmistakable plock of Joes heel hitting Hall in the groin.

Oh god, oh god, oh god, Hal groaned, clutching at his crotch and staggering
away. Its on you if Im damaged. He hobbled away into the shadows.

Joe had slipped his hand down toward the hem of her skirt, trying to finger it.
Cecie pushed his hand away and tried to push him off.

Then it was as you intended when you kept me away from Bernadette in
Westhillston, he said. I have been used for pleasure, but this for which you
have used methis has no name. It is not even abuse. It is nothing! Do I mean
nothing to you? I can show you the stars and I have seen you reach for them, but
you have yet to do so for your own needs.

They took Broad Way to Main Plaza, walking in silence, none of the usual
bantering or joking. They may as well have been walking on opposite sides of the
street.

They arrived at the Langiers door a half an hour later. Even Phila could sense,
unspokenly, that something was not right between Cecie and Joe.

How many does that makesix? Goodness. Did you get anything on whos doing it?
Inspector Burnsteads thereIm sorry if Im asking too many questions: your
work habits are rubbing off on me. Ill tell the others. Bye, I love you.

Uh oh, no wonder you dont look good, Kip said. Joe, you take her home and
see she gets some hot tea into her and she gets some rest.

Ive told you: its not that I couldnt use what you have to offer. I could
have hiked up my skirts back there and let you have your way right then and
there. But I cant. My conscience and my principles tell me otherwise.

She let him come into her room as she hadnt in days. She went into the bathroom
to tidy herself up; she came back to find he had started her tea for her.

He merely shrugged as he leaned against the kitchen doorway. She let him linger
as she drank her first cup. When his pager trilleda rarity for a Sunday
nightthe regret she felt nearly brought the tears to her eyes.

* * * * *

Frank wasnt surprised that Hal wasnt on the spot right away. He must have had
an nasty altercation with someoneJay? -- along the way over: he was walking as if
someone had stomped him in the groin.

* * * * * *

To be continued

Literary Easter Eggs:
something satanic about Halloween?It often seems that just because I love
Halloween, Im a magnet for the kind of nervous religious nut cases (will all
due respect to the genuinely holy people) who think that just because you have a
jack o lantern in your window it means youre holding a black mass in the
basement. And if I got it wrong about the Celtic New Year, forgive me, I knew
not what I did.

dont get chickena nod to something that happened at the Livingston Street
Terror; two girls came running out screaming in abject terror just seconds after
they went in (It was scary, yes, but not that scary!). So a couple people,
including me started twitting their retreating shadows.

Hal whistling In the Hall of the Mountain KingRipped this from Fritz Langs
classic suspense film M (yes, that is the title!), which deals with a murderer
whose only identifying mark is that he whistles In the Hall of the Mountain
King.

Jays eyesmodeled after Ralph Fienness eyes, which have been called the eyes
of either a poet or a murderer; ever since I saw him in Schindlers List as
the terrifying Nazi labor camp commandant, I have not quite gotten over those
eyes (I can say the same thing about Jude Law in a totally different way, but I
digress).

dun and scarletthe colors of some kinds of hydraulic fluid. I was shoveling
snow once on our driveway when I found what I thought was blood in the snow, but
which turned out to be fluid that leaked from the transmission of one of my
dads cars.


				*The Shadows Between the Neon* *Chapter Six: October 219th, 2159*



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