The water is crystal clear, light from the torches that are mounted on the walls of the cavern dances on the surface. The sounds of splashing water, giggling, and moans bounce around the cave. I can see a full moon shining through a hole in the roof, when it quiets down, I can hear a soft ocean breeze.

All around me clusters of people engage in sex acts, often involving as many as six participants. Bodies are mounted from every possible position, often by two or more people. Most of them have the face of some captain of industry or other leader. It feels like it is some perverted parody, like a clever and knowledgeable person could decipher subversive meanings out of who was fucking who. There are also A.I. driven simulations, NPCs that help to add variety.

A female banker is lying on her back, legs spread; a male that is a big-time lawyer railing her, while a female that runs a cybernetics firm rides her face. Two males that head drone manufacturers double team a female NPC, one using her mouth the other taking the rear; another male, this one also involved in drone construction is close by, he is porking a male NPC.

Me and Mason swim around awkwardly. I have been to more than a few orgies, but never one where I felt out of place. Maybe it is because this is all fake, or maybe it is because everyone here is wealthy beyond belief.

The heads of Phobos Arms and Mitra Arsenal are leaned up against a rock, unseen figures are floating under the water, pleasuring them. The woman from Phobos has her eyes closed, focused on the sensations, “I’m telling you,” she says, her voice effected by the efforts of the A.I., “If we combine our money, we got to outbid C&C. We gotta get that bastard on our side, we don’t have enough loyal senators between us to risk it.”

The man from Mitra must have cum, because his NPC swims away. He speaks in a contented voice, “Those new asteroid mining safety regs will cost both of our companies a fortune, which is probably why C&C is pushing for them. But the problem is we will look like we are cutting corners to save costs.”

“Sounds like someone needs to do an information campaign highlighting the dangers of the Model 43 and its tendency to explode.”

“I’ll send a message to CFN first thing in the morning.”

We casually swim past. The woman from Phobos Arms sucks her breath in sharply, kicks a foot involuntarily. Her A.I. starts to swim away, she pulls it back.

Mason whispers to me, frustration in his voice, “They are just sitting there talking and partying.”

“Two of them did just make a deal.”

“A minor deal.”

“It’s just another good old boy system,” I say with contempt, before jumping back into the real world. The pain hits the second I come back, I need to get my IC modified so that it tunes that shit down. Anthony has gotten us far away from the scene of the crime. I don’t even see or hear any emergency vehicles, and I have no doubt that someone has found the bodies by now. Jill is looking at me with concern.

Mason follows me out of the simulation, “But they are enemies, why would they hang out together?”

“They are the non-believers, the hired guns. They only want money, so they tolerate the ideologs. The groups that infiltrated the megacorporations have a different agenda.”

He finishes my thought for me, “Control. They talk about morality, but it is really about control.”

“Exactly. Each group wants control, so they cut deals and stab each other in the back. The fact is that the world is a complex place. But people don’t want to hear that, they want simple explanations. They would rather hear about secret cabals.”

A look of horror walks its way across his face, this is followed by rage, “I lost most of my people for this! For nothing!”

I look at Anthony, “Take me to a hospital.”

“You can’t, remember.”

I slouch back down in the seat, “Fuck.”

***

I lie in the bed that Mason’s people put me in. They have patched me up, now I just need to recover. It is lonely, but I have had visitors.

Gustav came to see me. He has a much more normal body now, thanked me for helping him work out his issues, whatever that means. He brought Bosco with him, I think that I found a good home for the little pupper.

Anthony stopped by. He seemed so happy, far happier than I had ever seen him. He is working on providing religious services for Untouchables. Aganok is helping him get settled in. They are making big plans.

I ask them to bring me Exodus and alcohol. They refuse, saying that I should lay off until I am healed up. I spend most of my time in VR. Anything to get away, anything to help me forget about her.

***

I awaken in the middle of the night. The room is pitch black. The more animalistic parts of my brain are telling me that something is very wrong.

Mr. Burke steps up to the bed, he seems to tower over me, “You don’t obey instructions very well.”

“I did what you wanted me to,” I say, trying not to sound too defensive, desperately wondering where they put my revolver.

“No, I wanted you to bring Jill Winters to me.”

“I would argue that what you really wanted me to do was stop the balance of power from being thrown out of whack.”

There is a brief pause before he gives his response, “I never said that you had the authority to read between the lines. Keep that fact in mind, next time.”

“Next time? I’m an Untouchable, there can’t be a next time.”

“We have made an investment in you. Do you really think that we would squander that special IC and all of the arrangements that we have made?”

“You can get me back into the megacorps?”

“Not you. That is why we will make a new you, so to speak. You will get a new name, a new identity. The only problem is that you will have to start from scratch.”

“Can’t I just keep being an Untouchable?” I ask half-jokingly.

“Think of it as restarting an old game that you enjoyed in the past. Or maybe you are more concerned with the control?”

“Something tells me that it is a moot point.”

“You are correct. You will also have to help fund the procedure.”

“With what? I lost all of my money when I lost all of my companies!”

“Don’t worry about it, we have something in mind.”

“I bet that you do. What about Ashley? Do you even care that one of your subordinates is dead?”

The G-man turns and starts walking away, a wave of relief washes over me. He stops at the door, “One more thing. I know you, I vetted you, so hear me out. When you go in to get your new identity codes loaded into your IC, tell them to add the capacity to handle simulated intelligences to your augmented reality system.”

“Why the hell would I want to do something like that?”

I swear that I see a tiny smile tug at the corners of his mouth, “I think that you would appreciate some of the things that certain historical figures have to say,” with that, he leaves.

I picture it in my mind, ghosts from the past whispering madness into my brain. Rasputin violating busty peasant girls, a look in his eyes that goes beyond madness, a look that cuts right into your soul. GG Allin beating the audience with the mic stand, totally naked; covered in his own excrement, completely consumed by a need to punish the world. Vlad the Impaler making a gruesome horror show out of desecrating the corpses of his foes, his legacy terrifying entire generations. Jim Morrison serenading about dark, psychedelic journeys to places that don’t exist in our reality. Charles Manson ranting about the failings of society, an acid soaked, beatnik poet of outlaw philosophy.

I lie there, thinking about all of the wonderous possibilities.