There was always a catch when the megacorps offered to help out low-life scum like myself. TANSTAAFL - there ain’t no such thing as a free lunch. I waited wordlessly as the Johnson got around to giving me the details of his offer of “help”.
Seeing no reaction was forthcoming, the Johnson continued. “You’ll be compensated for your time and expenses, naturally. No body expects anything for free. Just consider the information that will help clear your name to be a bonus for work that I fully expect to be well done, based on your reputation.”
“Go on,” I told him.
I glanced around the bar and noticed that, while a few wary eyes kept track of where my hand was in relation to my gun, the patrons had decidedly relaxed and felt that there was no imminent threat to their client of the evening. It would have been a good time to shoot the bastard across from me, but my life expectancy would have only been lengthened by a few second if I’d tried anything untoward.
“I work for a client who is in the business of developing new VR technology,” the Johnson began.
VR is short for “virtual reality”. With the advent of new surgical procedures that allowed humans to interface more completely than ever with the technology that ran their lives, an entertainment sub-genre of the tech had emerged. Instead of watching 2D or 3D images that followed a storyline written by folks in Hollywood, called movies, VR allowed properly equipped people to actually experience the story, even make choices that would affect the plot outcome within a certain degree of freedom. VR programming included not only visual and aural simulations, but also stimulated the parts of the brain to artificially create smells, tastes, even pleasure and pain to a certain degree. Instead of watching a story unfold from a third-person perspective, the VR experience allowed people to live the story as if they were one of the characters.
The tech was still considered to be primitive and not much more life-like than the videogames that proceeded VR’s evolution, but the entertainment world had embraced the medium whole-heartedly. With great surprise to anyone, the porn industry had poured large amounts of money into its development and many pundits expected the tech to reach a new level of realism within the next few years. As more and more people became wired for the Matrix, VR looked increasingly more profitable as time went on. There was a gold rush of sorts, everyone looking to get in on the ground floor of some tech firm that would make the next breakthrough towards near-reality.
“I needn’t say that everything I’m about to tell you, Lorelei, is of a highly confidential nature.” I nodded, fully aware of what improper disclosure would mean to my skin, should I say too much. The megacorps only gave information they felt was absolutely necessary to complete a mission and were more than willing to eliminate any potential leaks of trade secrets, before or after the leak may occur, if they felt that it would negatively impact their profit margin. I understood the rules - don’t talk to anyone about what I was about to hear.
After confirming I understood the nature of what was to be said, the Johnson continued.
“My client is approaching the end to their beta testing of some new VR programming. There are still a few bugs to address, which is why my client is unwilling to release their new product to market. If those bugs are not addressed, a product release at this time would adversely affect their PR, which could mean lower profits than expected. The new programming goes beyond even the next expected stage of VR, a level my client plans to market as “better than life” VR; BTL for short. Not only will this new programming allow for a complete immersion into an alternate world of the customer’s choice, but the experience will stimulate hormonal and adrenal glands to enhance the experience to a whole new level. When a customer falls from a high building during a BTL experience, their endocrinological system will react to increase production of adrenaline and ACTH, the hormone tied to the sensation of fear. Not only will that person see that they are falling, feel the air flowing around them as if they are falling, smell the exhaust of traffic below them as they are falling - they will be able to experience the thrill and terror of falling. The programming allows for a highly customizable experience. For instance, you can adjust the settings for a particular programme to only instill a mild reaction, verging on the VR technology we have available now. The fear and sense of adrenaline as you fall can be minimized to the point of a 2D movie or be increased to a terrifying rush towards certain death.” The Johnson paused. “The programming would ideally monitor vital signs to prevent spontaneous seizures or cardiac arrest in the user, of course.”
I began to see what the bugs might be for BTL. The corp this Johnson represented was having troubles programming a self-monitoring limiter in the product. Definite PR issues would evolve if consumers began to die from an over-stimulation of their hormonal systems. Excitement over the new technology would definitely wane once the side-effects became known.
Still, I couldn’t see how someone like me might be a benefit to their business. In many respects I was a dinosaur as far as technology and fashion were concerned. I refused to get wired as I saw the procedure as an invasive waste of time. While being hardwired allowed the person to interact with the Matrix allowed users to surf the net at the speed of thought, I preferred the old-fashioned point and click method. It was less risky than taking a chance of encountering intrusion countermeasures (or ICE) meant to protect the valuable data of megacorps from the prying minds of hackers. While my laptop might burst into flames while coming into contact with ICE, my brain was safe from the same response. I’d met a number of ex-hackers that didn’t have the programming-on-the-fly skills required to evade ICE and their last encounter with black ICE (the most aggressive countermeasure available) had left those hackers with fewer brains than a turnip. And, as my lifestyle was already relatively intense, I didn’t need the escapism that VR offered; I only wanted a cold drink and a quiet, dark room to escape to. Being wired held absolutely no appeal for me and I had no meaningful programming skills.
“And, aside from the bugs you’ve encountered in the programming, what seems to be the problem and how can I be of assistance?”
Again, that damnable smile. I found that I hated this Johnson’s smile more with each time I was forced to view it.
“Needless to say, the clients I represent are not the only people making inroads with technology. I have reliable information that indicates that one of my client’s competitors has managed to overcome some of the difficulties in the tech and they are about to release their first BTL chip sometime in the next few weeks. According to my sources, the release date has only been pushed back long enough for the company to mass produce the chips in a vast enough quantity as to fill the expected demand once the press release about the chips hits the news feeds. The response is expected to be phenomenal; our own marketing analysts concur with their projected 10 million sales in the first week.”
I hadn’t realized how many people had gotten wired in the few years since the lifestyle option had been made available and I whistled more at the total number of people who would have the right tech to make such chips feasible, which would conservatively mean that 20 million people had been wired over the past few years. The corps tended to lean conservative with their estimates on potential sales. Shareholders would be pleased if the megacorps met their projections and ecstatic if they surpassed those projections by a significant margin. I wouldn’t be surprised if the numbers were much bigger, both in sales and my own guess at the available market - it would mean large profits for those people who bought in quantity and resold at a higher than suggested manufacturer retail price. It wouldn’t surprise me at all if there was a run on the availability of these BTL chips within days of hitting the market.
“My clients, as you well expect, find the release of such a product to be an undesirable negative impact relative to their own sales goals.” Mr. Johnson finally took a sip of his watered-down synth-rum-and-cola and grimaced at the unrefined taste it left in his mouth as the ethanol burned down his throat. “They would much prefer to have a concurrent or delayed release of such products in order to garner as much of the market share as possible,” he added. “If our competitor could be persuaded into delaying the release of their BTL chips, my client would be extremely pleased.”
Again, I couldn’t begin to fathom how in the world my kind of assistance would be of any use to the Johnson’s clients; I had no tech background, no corporate negotiating skills, no contacts that I knew of with any corp that produced tech gear. I may have worked for one of those corps in the past, but I rarely, if ever, know who exactly I was being employed by. I preferred to keep it that way, as did the corps - which is why they sent Mr. Johnsons to conduct business with me when they required my services; it made it hard, although not impossible, to link me to their endeavors if anything went south on a run. Layers of identity protection usually discouraged all but the most fervent law enforcement entities. As most badges were hired out by one megacorp or another these days, it was rare that any officer wanted to solve a crime any harder than the corp paying him his stipend.
The Johnson finally got past the back story, or what fragments I was allowed to know anyway, and moved onto the meat of his business proposal.
“What my client needs from you,” he started as he reached into the breast pocket of his suit and pulled out a multi terra-byte flash drive the size of a small pencil stub, “is your discretion, and a little help making sure that the software on this drive is delivered to the off-Matrix grid at Yamatetsu. The software is self-executing, it should be just plug and play and has all the necessary combat and masking utilities to make a mission successful - all you need to do is get it to a terminal inside the corp and jack it in.”
It took some serious balls to set up a run against a powerful megacorp such as Yamatetsu. The megacorp had its main headquarters based in Russia, but had a few facilities in the United Canadian and American States (UCAS), including the facility here in Minneapolis that specialized in biotech research and manufacturing. I wouldn’t be surprised if Mr. Johnson represented Aztechnology after hearing the corp the run was being made against. While Aztechnology didn’t have a meaningful presence in the Cities aside from some minor sales offices, the corp was known to frown heavily on other corps moving in on their turf and frequently spared few resources to ensure they maintained a controlling market share in retails areas that they’d invested in heavily. I’d heard stories about the corp, but had never knowingly worked for them in the past.
I didn’t touch the drive after the Johnson removed his hand from it and let it rest midway on the table between us. Reaching over and taking possession of the drive would mean an acceptance of the contract without further negotiation. Instead, I let it sit between us and let the power of silence do the negotiating for me. The Johnson wasn’t expecting me to make an agreement right away and may have been testing me to see if I would so that he could excuse himself and look elsewhere for less desperate candidates for the job he had in mind. Desperate players were usually sloppy players.
“As I said, my client doesn’t expect you to do the work for free. They’ll reimburse you for expenses and… the figure I’m authorized to offer you is 500,000 nuyen upon successful completion. You’d receive half of that up front upon acceptance of the mission.”
I blinked at the amount. A decent job will maybe bring in 50,000 nuyen in payment; I was being offered was ten times that amount. At that offering, without any dickering, I could expect some difficulty with job completion. I hadn’t ever tried to infiltrate a megacorp directly in any of my previous work, there’d never been any demand to actually enter a facility. Why was I chosen to be bullied into this job and made an offer that was hard to refuse? For my troubles? Somehow, I doubted that.
“Sounds like a relatively straight-forward run,” I said. “Complicated, perhaps, with significant risk - but what details are you omitting, chummer?” I took a sip of the drink he’d bought for me before sitting down to make his pitch. “Sounds like a lot of nuyen for a simple infiltration.”
The Johnson’s face held no expression as he replied. “The fee is worth paying as far as my client is concerned, to ensure success. The client does not want excuses or failure and is well aware that offering less incentive may attract the wrong people, people who have a less successful track record than yourself. We aren’t interested in runners requiring on-the-job training, we want resourceful people who can make the run work. I’ve been told that you are extremely resourceful and have a high completion rate, even when working in an unfamiliar environment.”
So far, I’d been lucky with respect to runs outside my area of expertise. If I was walking into uncharted territory, I either educated myself until I was familiar with every possible consequence of my planning, or I hired others who already had the knowledge I needed. While I generally preferred to work alone, I had no illusion that I had all the skills necessary for a run and that there were others better suited to performing certain tasks beyond my ken. I might be an avowed control freak, but I wasn’t above delegating authority where it would help see a run to completion.
To see how important it was for my Johnson to employ me, I picked a ridiculously large counteroffer, fully expecting scoffing laughter in response. “Make it a mil and I seriously consider your offer. Half up front,” I said and braced myself to have the Johnson stand up, take the drive and walk out of the bar without further discussion. I wasn’t really in a position to negotiate, as far as he was concerned; he had something I wanted that was more valuable than nuyen, the evidence that would clear me of suspicion of murder.
The Johnson looked at me coolly from across the table between us. After a moment of consideration, he gestured with an open, upturned hand towards the flash drive. “Done.” The finality of that one words indicated negotiations were over and my acceptance of the run would be in taking the drive off the table.
I almost fell out of my chair with surprise. I had only wanted to see how serious the Johnson’s clients were about hiring me as their preferred candidate for the job. I never expected to actually have the sum I had named be the accepted fee for the work. I stammered for a moment, trying to find the words I wanted to say, but the Johnson seemed bored with my shocked response and seemed to want to move things along as quickly as possible. “As soon as you accept the drive, I’ll authorize payment to your account for the half mil nuyen and give you a few hours to refresh. Someone will deliver additional details that you might find useful by the time the sun comes up tomorrow.”
Still, I didn’t accept the flash drive. Everything had happened much faster than I liked, but I didn’t know that I had much choice about the outcome. Damn, I hated being rushed, and I could tell the Johnson was getting impatient with my hesitation.
“It’s getting late, Lorelei and I am really not interested in prolonging our negotiations much longer. The agreement I just made with you is the upper amount that I am prepared to offer you. Either you accept the run and let me be off or refuse it and the last thing I do is make sure the evidence I know about gets misplaced. You can rot or get rich. Up to you.”
Unwillingly, my hand reached out to the flash drive and brought it closer and examined it with my untrained eye. It seemed like a standard flash drive that relied on an IR connection to transmit data, innocuous and commonplace. No one would think twice when they saw it, they’d just assumed that I stored my important data on it, maybe even a video game or two for when I was bored.
Mr. Johnson pushed back the chair he was sitting in and stood up. “Good night,” he said. “The cred should be on your account by now.”
Without another word, the Johnson put his jacket back on and walked out into the night filled with snow flurries, his half-consumed drink on the table in front me. I shrugged my shoulders and downed the rest of my drink. As an afterthought, I finished Mr. Johnson’s as well.
No sense it letting good synth-rum go to waste, after all.
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