The Lucifer desk

30

The Orks First! pirate adjusted his tripod-mounted portacam and peered through the range finder. Anwar was wearing jeans and a fringed Tribal Wear shirt, and had a red scarf knotted around his head. He even had an eye patch. It was a dull silver, rather than the traditional black pirate patch, and full of electronics. While his portacam was rolling, it would provide him with a direct feed, showing exactly what the camera was capturing. Pita couldn’t image how he could watch both it and the real world at the same time and not be disoriented and stumble about. But the double vision didn’t seem to bother him in the least, even though the equipment was brand new and he must still be getting used to it.

Anwar stepped in front of the camera and touched the audio feed in his ear. “Hoi Alfonz! You gettin’ a feed? Give me a code-blue signal if it’s comin’ through.”

After listening for a moment, he waved a hand to catch the attention of those who had gathered in the room. “Okay,” he told them. “I’m set. We can start any time you like.” He turned to address the Mitsuhama and Renraku executives directly. “Just one warning. I’ll know if you break the patch to the KKRU transmitter, If I don’t get a steady feed of codes from my ah… associates… I’ll know the broadcast has gone off the air or has been tampered with. So no funny stuff, huh? We want this livecast to go smoothly.”

Pita stood between two suits, shuffling her feet uncomfortably. A cluster of executives had been assembled in the research lab where the spelleasting would take place. Behind them, mages put the finishing touches on the hermetic circle, placing the elements in their positions and making sure the lines were intact.

One of the executives-a slender Asian fellow with a gold ring and wristcom-nodded at the ork reporter. “We too will have associates watching the broadcast, if the voice masking slips and reveals any copyrightable spell material, we’ll pull the plug.”

“Agreed.” the ork rumbled. Then he turned to the mages. “Ready?”

They nodded, and he raised his microphone. It looked slender as a twig in the ork’s massive hand. He turned to face the camera as a red light winked on.

“This is Anwar Ingram, comin’ at you live from the Mitsuhama Computer Technologies secondary research laboratory in Bellevue. We’re here today with an exclusive Orks First! interview with a young ork by the name of Patti Dewar. This previously unknown magical talent has been chosen to head up a joint magical experiment by MCT Seattle and Renraku Computer Technologies.

“You’ve probably already seen the story that KKRU’s Carla Harris aired earlier today, about the plans by these two corporations to stop a renegade spirit that has used its energies to cause damage to the Matrix by shutting down systems and wiping data left and right. Now Orks First! brings you the dramatic fruits of this labor-live! For the first time ever on trideo, you’ll see the spirit that has been wreaking havoc all over the city. Not only that, but at the conclusion of the spellcasting we’ll follow Patti to the Street Savers shelter for street kids, where she will be turning over to the charity the 30,000 nuyen fee she is being paid for today’s magical services, and where she’ll be working over the next few months to ensure that this credit is properly spent.”

Yeah, Pita thought. Spent on me. The “donation” to the shelter was just a means of ensuring that the corp actually paid out what it had promised. Mitsuhama would took bad, if they stiffed a charity. Once the nuyen was transferred to Street Savers, a friend of Anwar’s who worked at the shelter would place it in an account that Pita could draw upon. The five thousand nuyen she’d have to leave untouched in the account would be a small price to pay for his help.

The pirate newscaster paused to listen to his audio feed, then stepped behind Pita and the suits. He laid a hand on the shoulder of one of the executives, an Asian man with an air of strained dignity-which strained even further as Anwar’s grimy hand crinkled his expensively tailored jacket.

“This is John Chang, vice president of MCT UCAS and president of MCT Seattle. He’s agreed to accompany Patti to the shelter and help her make the presentation.”

Pita nodded to herself. That was good. With the suit coming along for the ride, nobody would dare try to kill her on her way to the shelter.

“I have?” Chang’s eyes widened. But he recovered quickly and smiled broadly at the portacam. “Yes. That’s right. I’ll be pleased to make the donation on behalf of Mitsuhama Computer Technologies.”

The pirate shifted his hand to an equally uncomfortable-looking executive who stood on the other side of Pita, a man with thinning gray hair and a pompous expression. “And this is Donald Acres, project manager of the Renraku Arcology. Like Mr. Chang. he’s agreed to join Patti in making the presentation at Street Savers. Renraku has pledged to meet Mitsuhama’s donation with one of its own, and will also be contributing thirty thousand nuyen to the shelter.”

Pita looked up. This was something new. She didn’t know who had thought of doubling the payout-but it was brilliant.

Acres eyes narrowed in what was almost a wince. But he recovered as quickly as Chang had. “I’d be pleased to.” he said, albeit a little stiffly.

Anwar squatted in front of Pita and held the microphone up for her to speak. “I’m sure Patti would like to thank both corporations for their generosity. Isn’t that right. Patti?”

Pita stammered a little, then smiled widely, for once not ashamed of her oversized canines. “I’m very happy to have this opportunity to help Street Savers, Auwar,” she said, playing along. “And to work for a charity that really helps kids like me. You can come and interview me at the shelter. To see how I’m doing.”

“That I will, Patti,” the pirate chuckled. “I’m sure everybody in the Underground will watch your progress avidly. You’re a celebrity, as of tonight.”

Anwar motioned the executives to one side, then did a voice-over while the mages put the finishing touches on the hermetic circle that would form a protective barrier around them while they helped her to summon the spirit. While the executives and other observers scurried into another room to watch through a thick, warded glass window, the mages showed Pita where to sit. Anwar continued his monologue, reiterating Carla’s earlier story about how the spirit was using its energy to tear gaping holes in the programming of the Matrix. But instead of dwelling on how wonderful it was that the two corps were pooling their resources to fight the thing, he focused on Pita’s role in what was about to unfold.

It was embarrassing, really. And a little hard to believe. Pita would be a celebrity once this was over. Assuming it worked. The corporations were taking a big gamble. What if she couldn’t do it? She licked dry lips and tried to calm the fluttering in her stomach as technicians attached bio monitors to her temples, upper left chest, and wrists. Additional sensors were attached to her arm beside the burn mark, and then all was ready.

Three of the mages positioned themselves at the center of the circle. They sat cross-legged, holding hands in a ring around Pita. One was a young Asian elf with a crew cut and a suit that hung sloppily on his lank frame, as if he had dressed up in his father’s clothes. The other two were a blond human woman in a white lab coat with a bright red Mitsuhama logo over the pocket, and a Native Amedcan in a beaded leather jacket with the words “Renraku: Interface With the Best” emblazoned across the back.

The Amerind smiled at Pita reassuringly. “Null perspiration, kid,” he whispered. “Nothing to worry about.” Then he, like the other two mages, snuggled welder’s goggles over his eyes.

Pita glanced at Anwar, who was using a remote to lower his auto-adjust tripod. The round glass eye of the lens seemed to be staring at Pita, boring into her thoughts. She closed her eyes, shutting it out and concentrating. The three mages had spent the afternoon with her, running over the steps of the spell, discussing the wording of the command Pita would give the spirit when it arrived. She toyed with the idea of probing their thoughts, to make sure they hadn’t left anything out. But she was afraid that she would find that they were as nervous as she was.

As the mages began their chant, something soft and warm settled on Pita’s lap. She opened her eyes, startled, and saw that her lap was empty. Yet if she reached down, brushed lightly with her fingertips against the air, she could feel the soft fur of a cat. Closing her eyes again, she stroked the air-and was rewarded with a vibration that set her fingertips tingling. In her mind’s eye she saw a rainbow-colored cat sitting in her lap, gazing up at her with glittering eyes of gold.

Pita concentrated on the feel of the radiant fur beneath her fingers, and focused on Cat’s, throbbing purr. It flowed up from her fingertips and along her arm, then into her chest. From there it radiated outward until her entire body was softly vibrating.

“I’m ready,” she said.

“Begin,” a voice beside her urged.

Pita raised her arm, concentrating on the patch of red where the spirit had burned its true name. She felt the hairs there rise, and the skin begin to warm. She pictured her arm as a cyberdeck screen, flashing a single word over and over again: “Come. Come. Come.” At the same time, her lips parted. A word was on her tongue-a word she could neither pronounce nor understand. A name.

Slowly, the room began to brighten, and Pita felt a warmth on her head and arms. She turned her closed eyes toward it, savoring the spirit’s presence like summer sunlight. Even Anwar’s whispered. “Oh my God!” didn’t faze her.

Now she could feel the heat intensifying, could see a bright whirl of light through her closed eyelids. The welder’s goggles they’d given her hung about her neck. untouched. She didn’t need to wear them, didn’t need to open her eyes to see the spirit. Not when she and it were…

One.

This time, she felt no fear. Cat was close by, a warm presence in her lap. And the spirit was a familiar echo in her sluggish mortal mind. Play? it whispered in a voice as quick as a flash of sunlight on metal, It tugged at her, seeking direction.

Pita looked around her, saw only a vortex of spinning fragments of light. They spread in an infinitely wide rainbow, shading from a deep violet that she felt more as a hum than a color, to an intense crimson that blazed with heat. Individual photons spun crazy spirals around her, cutting the air like brilliant dervishes. She was captivated by their beauty, swept up in their dance. The spirit seemed to be trying to tell her something, trying to communicate. Its words rushed past at a frantic pace that no mortal mind could comprehend. If only she could understand its message, Pita knew that she would be conveyed to the source of all light, the source of all…

Her brain sluggishly sent out a signal that-had nanoseconds not been crawling along like seconds-would have caused her to shake her head.

She struggled to form a word-thought. Not the convoluted command that the mages had instructed her to give, but a single message: Go.

The spirit paused for a nanosecond, then blazed brightly with anger. No. Stay. Play.

Pita felt a wash of horror as she realized what she’d done. When she’d controlled the spirit before, she’d been responding to the call of her totem. Like a cat playing with its prey, she’d directed the spirit to use its destructive energies against the cops. It had enjoyed the experience, and now wanted to repeat it. And it didn’t care who the target was. Pita had unleashed a monster-one that would strike out at the innocent, as well as the guilty.

She tried again. Leave.

The burn on her arm began to throb in time with the light that strobed overhead. The sensation drew Pita back toward her body, back toward herself. The spirit flared with laughter, tilted and spun…

The purring. Concentrate on the purring. Centering herself, wrapping her will around the calm place that Cat had created for her. Pita lashed out. She raked the spirit with claws, tore at it with her teeth. Her hair was on end, was on fire, but she didn’t care. She used the throbbing in her arm, blending anger with calm, blending hot fire with icy determination. Summoning every ounce of her will, she screamed at the thing one last time: GO HOME!

Something snapped.

Pita fell into her body from an impossible height. Down, down into darkness. When she opened her eyes, the laboratory was in utter darkness, except for a tiny red eye that stared at her. Then the portacam’s auto-light came on. washing Pita with a beam of light. She threw up her arm to shield her eyes-and saw that her skin was whole. Healed. The pale pink scar of the spirit’s burn had utterly vanished.

The room’s lights came on then, and everyone started talking at once. Dimly. Pita was aware of the three mages leaping to their feet, of executives rushing into the room and congratulating them with slaps on the back and hearty handshakes. Anwar was standing somewhere beside her, talking excitedly into his microphone and helping Pita to her feet.

“It’s too soon to tell yet, folks, if the spellcasting was successful,” he touched the audio pickup in his ear, listening to it. “The reports are only just starting to come in from the deckers who are monitoring the Matrix. But you saw what happened here today, live on Orks First! trideo. The spirit is under control. And it took an ork to do it.”

Pita murmured something in response to Anwar’s questions, then staggered. She was bone weary; wrestling with the spirit had utterly drained her. When someone else reached out to steady her, she clasped the proffered arm. And looked up into the face of John Chang.

“Well?” he whispered, pulling her off to the side and out of camera range. “We saw you control the spirit. It responded beautifully. How did it react to the new commands?”

“I didn’t give it those commands,” Pita whispered back.

“What?’ Donald Acres had also crowded close, and now was sputtering with rage.

“What do you mean you didn’t-” He broke off as Anwar homed in, thrusting his microphone up to Pita’s mouth.

“I banished it,” Pita answered. “I sent the spirit home-wherever that might be. It’s never coming back.”

Chang’s face went pale. “But that was the only… We weren’t able to bind any of the other…” His hand clenched Pita’s shirt. “You were supposed to-”

“Yes?” Anwar asked, shifting the microphone. “Is there anything you’d like to add, Mr. Chang?”

The executive shook his head, hid his discomfort with a smooth smile, then abruptly turned away.

The pirate broadcaster wrapped a heavy arm around Pita’s shoulders and walked her toward the camera. Technicians scurried along after Pita, peeling off the sensors that had been attached to her skin.

“And now we’ll take you to the Street Savers shelter,” Anwar announced as he lifted the camera from its tripod and held it at arm’s length. “I’ll be broadcasting live all the way there as Patti tells us the story of how she came to learn the magical skills that enabled her to banish rogue spirits.” He turned. “Mr. Acres? Mr. Chang? This way please.”

He walked Pita toward the exit, Chang and Acres fumed as they followed the two orks out of the lab and into the Street, occasionally turning their grimaces into a smile for the camera that Anwar was carrying. Surrounded by bodyguards, they climbed into sleek corporate vehicles.

Anwar helped Pita into the taxi that was waiting outside the research lab’s door.

“Your friends have told me, Patti, that your talents are entirely self-taught. I understand that you’re a cat shaman?”

Pita nibbed her throbbing temples, then noticed the driver of the taxi. It was the ork woman who had chatted with her-when? only this morning?-about the Meta Madness concert. The woman turned around and gave Pita a toothy grin.

“Hoi kid,” she said. “I found your cat.”

A white bundle of fur launched itself over the seat and into Pita’s arms. Purring loudly, the cat nuzzled against Pita’s chin, then sniffed at the shirt pocket where the Chickstix had been. One yellow and one blue eye peered up at her as the cat let out a questioning mrrow?

Pita stroked the animal, dumbfounded by the turn of events. What a coincidence that the taxi that had come to take her to Street Savers just happened to be driven by the woman she had met this morning! But then she started to mull it through. Even if the cabbie had found Aziz’s cat, she wouldn't have driven around all day with the animal in her car. She’d have returned it to Masaki’s address, and he would have contacted Carla, who would have.

She smiled at Anwar, who confirmed her suspicions with a wink. The lens of the portacam whirred as he shifted the camera to take in both Pita and the cat. “So,” he said into the microphone. “Tell us about your cat. Do you use it to work your magic?”

Pita laughed. She was starting to understand how the news business worked.