Nightside City

The main entrance was under a blackened overhang more or less in the middle of the side facing me-the building didn't really have a front or back. No one was going in or out. I walked up to it.

The Institute's logo hung, glowing dimly, above the door. Sca

"Why?" I demanded.

"Due to the present financial condition of our supporting foundation, it has been necessary to cut back on administrative, maintenance, and public relations staff and equipment. We hope that these conditions will improve shortly."

"I'm not a damn tourist," I said. "Paulie Orchid sent me; I've got a message from Sayuri Nakada I'm supposed to deliver."

The voice changed tone, from mechanically polite to downright snotty. "May I ask who you wished to see?"

"I didn't get the name," I said, feigning exasperation. "Paulie just told me to bring it to the Institute, and here I am."

"Just a minute, please," it said. "I will consult with my superiors."

I knew that I was talking to some really simple gate-keeping software, probably hardwired into a cultured fungus grown somewhere in those shadowy comers, or maybe just resident in the building's internal com net. A goddamn rat was probably its superior, as far as intelligence or decision-making capability went. I waited.

A new voice spoke, one that could pass for human. "What's this message?"

"It's on a bug, and Paulie told me to bring it here and see that somebody got it. This stupid software you've got out here isn't my idea of somebody."

"Just a minute," the new voice said.

I unsealed my jacket and waited.

"All right," he said. "I'll send someone down for it. Come on in, and she'll meet you in the central lounge. It's straight ahead."

"Right," I said. I knew where it was.

The door opened, lights and music came on, and I marched in, my right hand a centimeter or two from the grip of my gun.

I walked down a corridor with bare stone walls and with plastic conduits webbing the ceiling, past a few doors, across another corridor, and into the lounge, which had full-depth holos of smoky green seascapes for walls, and a soft blue carpet underneath. Music kept time with the holographic surf. A golden haze hid the ceiling; blue bubbles of variable furniture drifted lazily by.

I snared a small one and leaned on it, waiting; it formed into a comfortable grip and hovered right where I wanted it, without a single dip or bob. The Ipsy wasn't too badly off, I decided, if they kept the furniture so nicely tuned. The music and the holos weren't the latest styles, but they weren't bad, either.

A woman who was either older than hell or didn't believe in cosmetic restoration stepped out of one of the holos; her hair was white, her skin wrinkled, her hands withered and clawlike.

"What's this message?" she asked. "Why didn't Orchid come himself, if it's important?"

"I lied about that," I said, taking my elbow off the floater and standing up straight. "I don't have a message. I just need to talk to some of you people about this work you're doing for Sayuri Nakada."

She stopped and stared at me through narrowed eyes. Then she said, in a tone suitable for talking to a particularly dumb machine, "The IPSE is a private, nonprofit organization, and we aren't affiliated with Nakada Enterprises. If you want to know anything about work done for Sayuri Nakada, ask Mis' Nakada. We can't tell you anything."

So they still weren't talking.

"I'm sorry," I said. "But I did talk to Mis' Nakada, and I wasn't happy with what she told me. I know what you people are doing, roughly, but I have some questions that I need answers to. If I don't get those answers, I may have to go elsewhere with my questions, and I don't think you or Mis' Nakada would like that. Now, could we discuss this a little?"

"No," she said. "We couldn't. Get out." She started to turn away.

I wasn't happy about my next move, but I didn't see what else I could do. They wouldn't even talk to me enough for me to make convincing threats, and I desperately needed to know what was going on, and when. For all I knew, they were getting reluctant to talk because the big day was coming soon. For all I knew it might be just hours away.

I hoped, as I pulled the HG-2 from its holster and flicked it on, that they weren't paranoid enough to have heavy security or to go armed in their own building. They'd never had any need for security until now, after all; as far as I knew, they'd never had any secrets before this deal with Nakada.

"Mis'," I said, "you're going to have to talk to me."

She saw the gun and stopped, turned back, and looked at me.

"Are you crazy?" she asked. "This is private property! You can't bring that thing in here!"

I smiled. "I already did," I said. "It's loaded with heat-seeking, armor-piercing high explosive, with added boost during trajectory, so that it can track you even if you're cyborged to the eyeballs and trying to dodge. You talk to me, or I blow off a leg, at the very least." I pointed the gun at her crotch and tapped a switch with my thumb-which didn't do anything; the gun was fully self-regulated, but I thought it looked like a convincing gesture.

"This is insane," she said, but I saw her eyes focused down tight on the barrel of the gun, and she didn't move anything but her mouth when she spoke. The green seascapes rolled smoothly behind her, and her stiff immobility made quite a contrast.

"I never said it wasn't insane," I said, keeping my tone light. "I just said it was happening. I might be a complete wacko, loose from wherever they keep us nowadays. I might be a sim or a genen or a construct. What I am doesn't matter a damned bit. What matters is that I'm here with a loaded gun pointed more or less at your belly. Now, can we talk about this little job you're doing for Sayuri Nakada, or do I pull the trigger?"

"What do you want to know?" she asked, and I could see a drop of sweat at her hairline.

I love the HG-2. It looks intimidating as hell. And with good reason, too.

"First off," I said, "are you people really pla

Her throat worked. "I don't know," she said. "That's not my department. I'm in charge of estimating the environmental impact of halted rotation, not figuring out how to make it happen."

"Environmental impact?" That sounded interesting. "So just what will the environmental impact be?"

"I don't know yet," she said. "We're still working on it."

"What's the added heat going to do to the planetary core?" I asked.

"I don't know," she said again. "I do surface environment-possible disruption of weather patterns, water supply, oxygen production by pseudoplankton, that sort of thing." The drop of sweat rolled slowly down her forehead.

"What's going to happen with those, then?" I asked.

"I told you," she said. "We're still working on it."

"I heard you," I said. "But you must have some idea."

She swallowed. "So far, it doesn't look like there will be any serious disruption. After all, the atmosphere's already moving much faster than the surface."

The bead of sweat broke against an eyebrow, but another one had formed above it, back at the hairline. It's amazing how you notice things like that.

"But you're working on the basis of a sudden stop in rotation?" I asked. "Not a gradual one, or anything localized?"

"Yes," she said. She didn't nod.

I figured that she was giving me a pretty fair readout. "All right," I said. "I need to talk to whoever's in charge of the actual stop. Who is it?"

"That… that would be Doc Lee." She pointed vaguely to her left, moving her hand as little as possible.