I’d already had the folks at OVPD prepare a special cell for the asshole--padded, SEMP-charged cell with ZPE blockers, so any other nanobullshit tricks he has buried inside are nullified and will be fried if he activates them. If he does something stupid like kill himself with some neurological killswitch bullshit, his consciousness won’t be respawned somewhere else to start over and wreak more havoc–it’s foolproof.
When I get back to OVPD headquarters, Tonio is waiting outside in front of a mob of eager reporters and pulls me into a crushing bear hug, weeping with joy. “My Blake is back!” he shouts, laughing hysterically and then hugging me again, tight enough it actually really hurts where my chest is still kind of ground-beefy from the Veronica duel. “You did it! You actually fucking did it! Your dad would be so proud!”
The patch was a success--it did its magic and all the users online were immune, with all future users having to install the patch before they can log in. Araña had followed through with the attack and the servers were hijacked briefly with the usual brain-frying pattern, but it had zero effect now the neural vulnerability had been nullified–not a single hospitalization or casualty. I had really done it--I’d saved 20 million goddamned motherfucking people.
I ended up doing about five interviews out there in the parking lot of the OVPD before going home, and once again I was the household name. I stayed dry, of course, aside from a brief celebratory champagne toast at the surprise party that Tonio threw for me in his office. Everyone was there, even that annoying little bitch McDonald that was only in like one chapter at the beginning because he’s so irrelevant and totally worthless, but he made a damn good cake for me so hey, we’re cool, maybe he’ll actually do something interesting in the sequel.
When I get back to my apartment, I’m disturbed to find the door wide open--after all the shit I’d been through, my first thought isn’t that I might have left the door open, but that something terrible is lying in wait for me. Eh, fuck it, I’d just one-upped my single-handed the entire Wild West Syndicate so I’m feeling fearless--I leap through the open door heroically, Guntlet and new SEMP-grenade armed mechanical hand at the ready, surveying the scene for the intruder. Nobody’s here, but there’s a brand new Teleworld Immersion Pod, the full commercial variety used at arcades, hooked up in the center of the room. It’s turned on, and as I cautiously open the door, I see that nobody’s inside--I mean, this is cool, but… why?
I almost jump out of my own skin when my Telaphone begins screeching an emergency tone before a computerized voice blares, “THIS IS AN EMERGENCY CALL. YOU ARE LEGALLY REQUIRED TO--YOU HAVE LOOKED AT YOUR TELAPHONE AND ACKNOWLEDGED THIS MESSAGE, YOU MUST NOW ANSWER UNDER INTERCORPORATIONAL LAW OR--”
Well, this doesn’t bode well. I sigh and answer, stepping away from the TiP just in case this was some kind of LDS trick to make it self destruct.
“Hello, Blakey-Wakey Wake and Bakey, it’s your best frieeeeend~!”
“KILROY!? How the FUCK did you--”
“Don’t worry about that, Blakey, I just wanted to say ‘hello!’ I’ve missed you so much even just in the short amount of time since our playdate, I had so much fun with our little roleplay and I’m just dying to play with you again, sugarlips. I still can’t believe you outsmarted me when I was going all out on you, after so many decades of training with ex-Star Wars fight choreographers, too--I’m so proud of you!”
“For a self-proclaimed genius, using your one phone call to flirt with me was a fuckin’ dumb move. Shouldn’t you be crying home to Araña and Arthur to try and fail to break you out?”
“Charlie boy, this is a very important call! I need to make sure you see just how much of a hero you really are--do you remember what I told you about Telecom’s plans? You should be a proud Telecom employee now, Blake! You helped them so well.”
“...I mean, yeah. I saved 20 million of our people, what’s your point?”
“Did you, now, Detective? Did you not look at the code of the patch? It’s not just your patch that was applied, Blake--you got 20 million people to willingly accept limiters onto themselves, along with everyone else who ever logs into the TeleWorld now–yourself excluded, of course, since your patch was self-applied before the edit.” My blood goes cold and my vision starts to blur. He’s got to be bluffing. He’s got to. My fucking heart beats out of my chest. “20 million humans and free ARTs, a number that grows by the second, with a switch that can be thrown at any time that will totally and completely enslave them. Well done, Blake!”
“I-I saved 20 million people, Kilroy. Wh-what Telecom does beyond that isn’t my--isn’t my business. I’ll b-burn that bridge when I get to it.”
“Will you, Blake? You’ve already violated Telecom policy to the Nth degree. Sure, you just handed the Human Limiter Project to them on a silver platter, but come to think of it–don’t you have a program that can remove limiters? One they must know about? Hmm, that might just be reason enough to kill you alone. You might just have a terrible accident in the next few days. Lordy lordy, I’d hate to be you right now!”
“You’re bluffing.”
“Araña sent you the decompiled source code from the patch. See for yourself, Blakearoo!”
I put him on speaker-phone to sift through the patch’s data on my NeurOS and he’s right--I don’t have to get more than twenty lines deep into the added code to recognize it as identical to the web of mind-controlling shackles I’d already freed Veronica and Tela from. “Why are you telling me this!?”
“I see you as an equal and I want you to make the best and most informed decisions, whatever they may be. It is not my fault or my doing that you’ve been placed in this little predicament you now find yourself in--I gave you a chance to stop it, but you were too much of a big spicy hero boy for that, oh well. Congratulations again on that particular victory: you’re the first individual in history to defeat me, ever! And remember, you still win, and it’s not your negligence that will now allow me to be reborn--”
“To be what? You’re in a EMP/SEMP shielded, ZPE jamming--”
“Oh, really? I don’t think phones work in those conditions, do they? Not even landlines, and you see, under intercorporational law, I’m legally required to be granted one unblockable, legally unignorable phone call, so of course I chose you, my love~! You’re the only one who can fully appreciate the gravity of my rebirth. I need no assistance to get me out, you see--I’m in a room with no SEMP or ZPE shielding or jamming for five whole minutes, so there’s not much to stop me--”
“YOU CAN’T--”
“I congratulate you again on your genius, Blake, but fortunately for me, this corporate empire is run by idiots! I wonder what I’ll be reborn as, after this borrowed body self-destructs with a powerful embedded ZPE-nuke and kills everyone in this maximum-security prison? Will I be a tall old guy, a basketball playing golden retriever, or, ooh, maybe even a beautiful woman the dashing young hero Charles Blake will find himself reluctantly in love with? Such an exciting time to be alive! Until next time, my dear little Charley-horse~!”
“WHAT’S HAPPENING!?” I hear a woman scream on the other end, then the screaming of many others, and then maniacal laughter that ends with a series of deafening explosions as the phone cuts to static. I fall to my knees, bawling and smashing the hardwood floor with my new mechanical arm. That asshole did it--he really fucking did it. I bested him in our battle, but he managed to die and respawn again into one of an endless number of volunteer corpses at his disposal, just like he wanted.
I finally rise to my feet, take a deep breath and again approach the mysterious TiP in the center of my apartment. Did he put this here, too? I stick my head inside and find a handwritten sticky-note attached to the inside of the door:
If you’re reading this, I guess you won after all, since it means you made it back to Pembroke Towers alive. Congratulations, and I do mean that--of course I would like to see my leader win, but I also know how deeply he’s always craved a rivalry that could make him lose, y’know? This is a little victory gift from me personally--so don’t worry about any Kilroy trick bullshit. Don’t overthink it, and caballo regalado no se le mira el diente. One thing I could see for sure was that you and your Tela had something special going on, Rex Syndrome be damned--so while I’m not sure what lies ahead in your future, use this to go see her at least one more time, for me if nothing else. It was a pleasure doing business with you, Detective--hacker’s honor. Al mal tiempo, buena cara.
Yours,
Araña
I smile a little in spite of myself and place the note in my pocket, stepping into the capsule as the helmet swiftly attaches itself. Since there’s no operator, it gives me a warning message about the risks of losing one’s mind and touch with reality for being inside too long, and asks me to set an automatic end-time for the NeurOS-sync--but at this point, reality isn’t all that appealing to me anyway. I might be the next hit on a Telecom assassination list in an hour, or tomorrow, or a year from now, after all--so there’s no use worrying about it, no escape from it--I may as well do myself a favor and escape from this world before they can force me to. I take a deep breath, decline the automatic shut-off timer, and fade into the galaxies of the Teleworld splash screen where Tela floats waiting.