I don’t know where Vince got the gavel, but for me, it looked somewhat exaggerated how they organized here. Imagine being there, surrounded by the bosses of the organized crime groups of New York City, their enforcers, and their bodyguards.

Men, and a few women, who reached the height they had through ruthlessness and often brutality. Known for being prone to violence at a moment’s notice. And they were playing debate club. But somehow it worked. So Vince called them to order.

“All right, ladies and gents, let’s get this show off the ground. I hereby call the extraordinary meeting on November the 7th 2248 to order. This meeting has been called for by Benjamin Walker under the emergency protocol. Unless there is an objection, I will give the word to Walker.”

Before he could bang the gavel, Kursalin stood up.

“Yeah, I have an objection. We should have stopped this shit of a council long ago. We are all busy men. We don’t have time for playing painting within the lines.”

There were a couple of agreeing murmurs, but mostly the bosses seemed to be annoyed by him, and it became apparent why when Vince answered.

I on the other hand set the cluster to survey the matrix for information about the nanobots Raclon and Enertech offered here. Especially independent reviews of them.

I did the same with commercial nanobots from the commonwealth.

“Do you have to do that every single time, Kursalin? Yes, we know you don’t like these meetings, and we know you think they are a waste of time. The majority of us do not agree with you, but nobody forces you to be here.”

“Fuck it with not forcing me to be here. You decide what happens, how our spats are calmed down, and if and when to go to war. If I am not here you will simply decide to eliminate my territory. So fuck you all, I have to be here. And fuck these meetings.”

“Kursalin, I have to ask you to keep the peace and to remain courteous. Now any other objections?” He waited for a moment, and then banged the gravel when nobody else answered. “Good, then, Ben, if you would please.”

Mr. Walker nodded and stood up.

“Thank you, Vince. I know very well that most of you are pressed for time. And have other worries. If I had to guess, the majority of you have an extremely aggressive strain of CRS that they have to fight now.” That set off the bomb. Most of the bosses looked shocked at that. Only a few kept that expression for longer than a few seconds, but the shock was apparent.

“No, I have not broken the treaty and sent spies into your organizations. To get to how I know about it, I have to go back a few days. Roughly a week ago, I was informed that somebody had acquired a building in my territory and would like to open a business as well as living there.

I was somewhat surprised when this somebody proved to be a very young woman who claimed to be a commonwealth-trained implant surgeon.

I was ready to dismiss her claims but was willing to give her a chance to prove that she was what she said she was.

During the negotiations, she suddenly blurted out that I had CRS. She was right, and her reasoning was sound, so I was much closer to believing her.

Another point in her favor was that she did not give off-the-cuff prescriptions but told me that without knowing the full situation she could not give me full advice.

I have to say that when she had the facts she could actually help me.

It may not be enough to save me, but what she’s done so far is give me a chance.

But what is more important is that she told me my CRS was not a coincidence.

My previous cybutcher had modified my last implant in a way that quadrupled the risk of CRS and then convinced my practitioner that a specific drug would promote faster healing.

He managed that with the drug database.

The young woman then told me and my practitioner that our database had been hacked.

That the drug was exceptionally good at promoting healing but increased the risk of CRS dramatically. As she explained to me, the combination of the sabotaged cyberware and the drug, I had around a 2% chance of not getting CRS.

Needless to say, I had no such luck.

Unfortunately, somebody convinced one of my men that she was trying to kill me, and loyal as he is, he tried to stop her, injuring her, while she was in a procedure to prolong my life long enough that more permanent solutions might be available.

The procedure was successful as it can be though, so I had a bit of good luck there.” He took a deep breath and made a short pause.

“Then came the next surprise.

The young woman told me that she is a relatively good hacker as well, and offered to look into the situation. Again I was skeptical, and again she proved that she could do what she said she could.

Though she warned me upfront that it would be almost certain that any trail would be likely cold, she tried to find out more.

I let her tell you what she found herself, but the short version is, that she found a trail anyway and at the end of the trail enough memos, sound notes, and communication to prove that one of us tried to kill more than 30 of us through CRS.”

The outcry that erupted lasted for a few minutes before Vince managed to get the others to settle down.

Walker remained standing the whole time.

“If I could continue. The important point and the reason why I called this meeting is that she, fortunately, has access to the supercomputer of one of the best hackers in the world.

And could prove beyond any reasonable doubt that the evidence was completely faked.

I have, at her insistence, contracted one of the abyss-dwellers to verify her findings and analysis. Fortunately, it checked out.

So, keep in mind that when she names the perpetrator that it is a frame-up. Without much further ado, I have Ms. Veronica Sinclair present her findings.”

Nervously I stood up and felt my mouth dry up.

Somehow, and I can’t tell you how I managed to convey what I found.

When I explained that the trail led to a false Berardino matrix compound there was some angry whispering going on, and when I presented the faked records some of the people jumped up and it nearly came to a fight.

I noticed that Kursalin was one of the men trying to incite a fight, but in the end, Vince managed to calm things down again.

Then I began the explanation of how it was faked. Then I came to the falsified sound files. I explained how I had, in effect, stolen the files of the real Giorgio Berardino from his network, and placed my focus on the Berardino group.

“I am sorry that I hacked your system and stole your data sir, but I thought it might be more important to prove that you are not the culprit than to follow etiquette.

I hope you can forgive me that transgression.” He did not look very amused but it could be many things that ruined his mood. Still, I would keep my distance from him as much as I could.

Then I continued to lay out how my access to Spectre’s cluster, without naming him specifically though, enabled me to analyze the files and identify the fakes.

I skipped over the deep explanation of the various levels of fakes.

If they wanted to know that they could pay to get that information from somebody else. I gave them the analysis of what I had found and what it meant for them.

Compared with the meeting on Thursday the explanation took a bit longer, thanks to several interruptions by my audience. Still, after three hours I was done. And hoarse.

We now had half past noon, so Vince called a recess for lunch, and we relocated to the dining hall.

At first, I was mostly disinterested in the menu, but that changed when I learned that we would be served real food instead of the replicated stuff.

The choices were all mouthwatering, but it quickly came down to the filet mignon. My only hope was that it was not too massive.

While I needed an enormous amount of calories each day, the volume of my stomach was more on the petite side. And it would be an unmitigated tragedy to waste real food.

Finally, the moment had come, and I had a fine cut of beef in front of me.

And real vegetables, I can’t forget the vegetables. Fortunately, it was already cut into bite-sized pieces, and when the first bite hit my tongue I closed my eyes and enjoyed the explosion of taste it brought me.

I chewed slowly to savor the first real meal I had in nearly three weeks. When I opened my eyes again after swallowing, I saw everybody on the table looking at me intensely, instantly fueling my insecurities again.

“What… ? Is something wrong?” It was Mr. Walker that answered me. “Are you aware that you just gave us an interesting show? I mean, the visuals were in one word sensual, but the moan. I did not expect such a passionate moan from you.” As so often over the last days I felt my cheeks heating up.

“I did… but… oh, frack!” If I could have I would have sunk into the floor at this moment.

“Don’t be ashamed, I for one think it was adorable. But I have to wonder about the passion you attacked the food with.

Usually, people have to experience the first bites of real food before they realize what they are eating.”

I nodded at that.

“You are right of course. But I had my first bite of real food nearly two years ago. It was the only luxury I could indulge in that would not have aroused suspicion.

So indulging I did. When I find the time I have to organize to get real ingredients and spices from somewhere.”

I took the next bite and managed to temper my response this time.

“In that case, I am surprised that you have a coke with your filet and not a Cabernet or Pinot Noir.”

“Am I right in the assumption that these are wine varieties?” At his nod, I continued. “Unfortunately I can’t drink wine. I can’t drink any alcohol.”

They looked at each other before Dylan came out with an answer.

“Is that because you are so small? Or is it an allergy?”

“Neither. Pures become violently and painfully sick from alcohol. It is baked into our genetics.”

“That can’t be right. I have seen Pures getting drunk before.” I shook my head sadly.

“If they did drink alcohol they were no Pures.”

“Ha, you never stop learning.”

The rest of lunch we spent in silence, enjoying the good food. I managed, barely, to eat up, but still, it was over way too fast.

In the meanwhile, the cluster had digested the data about the Ralcon and Enertech nanobots, and when I read over the results I was seriously underwhelmed.

Sure, they were 10th gen nanobots by the common definition, at least at the upper, expensive end of the lineup, but just barely.

From what I could tell, they had shoved a valence bonder into what otherwise were mostly generic 7th gen nanobots.

And the prices, let’s talk about ludicrous. A half-liter, like I had provided for Mr. Walker, at a much lower quality, did cost around $500k.

As soon as the meeting continued I was thankfully no longer required to explain anything and could sit silently at the table for a while.

Mr. Walker explained that he had hired Dunedain to check my analysis before he had called this meeting.

He also proposed everyone here should call up an abyss-dweller of their own to replicate what I had done, just so that they could make sure that it was the truth.

That proposal alone, if acted upon would cost these organizations several tens of million dollars.

But it was not my money, so what did I care?

I let my thoughts wander a bit when they began to discuss what to do now, so I was a bit surprised when Vince called me up again and Mr. Walker discreetly tapped my foot.

“Oh, sorry, I was just lost in thoughts. What can I help you with, sir?”

I heard some soft snorts and chuckles at that, and even Vince could not suppress a grin.

“I asked those of us with CRS can do. You are the only implant specialist here at the moment, and I think we all need to hear what options are available.” I took a deep breath again and nodded.

“Yes, I can do that. I assume removing the cyberware and replacing it with cloned tissue has been brought up and rejected?” There were several agreeing murmurs going around the table.

“Then it mostly depends on the type of CRS and the stage. One thing I recommend in nearly every case is the new nano therapy that has just been developed in the Commonwealth. It can extend your life expectancy to an amount that you would almost certainly die from old age before you die from CRS.

That outcome though is only possible if the therapy is started early enough, and you use good nanobots for it.

If you reached stage three it will be a few years, and in stage four we are talking about a couple of months at the outset.

I have been asked if I would recommend either Ralcon or Enertech nanobots for that, and honesty compels me to say neither.

Their best nanobots are at best subpar, and against good Commonwealth nanites simply garbage, and the costs are outrageous.

Just to make it clear how overprized they are, if you were in the Commonwealth and would buy fully legal nanobots, then for the same amount of money you would pay for one week’s supply of Ralcon or Enertech nanobots, you could get enough nanobots for nearly 50 years of therapy.

Of course, that won’t take shipping into account, but I can’t imagine that it will be less than 25 years if you discreetly import the nanobots. “

That started a ruckus and it took several minutes for Vincent to bring the meeting to order again. Then he addressed me.

“Earlier you told us that you did know nothing about the nanobots from Ralcon and Enertech, so what changed?”

“I used the wireless network here to look up the nanites in question and their price structure. And with respect, the prices are ludicrous.

You can’t even compare the prices from the NWC with the prices from the US as there are no such shoddy nanobots available in Nowhere. If you get them from Seattle, you will have to be content with much better results, but alas, it can’t be helped.” A few chuckles.

“Ok, the next question then, you said you recommend it for nearly every case. What are the exceptions?”

“Stage one is actually curable, not that I expect anybody of you to have stage 1.

The aspertone will have made sure of that.

And then there are the severe cases of stage five muscular CRS when a vital implant is failing.

Unless there is a chance for a cloned replacement part the nano therapy will just prolong the suffering.

And finally, for neural CRS, once it reaches stage five there is nothing to be done anymore.

The only recommendations I can give is to bring your affairs in order and then seek a painless way out.” I heard a muted “Fuck!” from Mr. Walker after I said that.

“Now the quality of the bots is only really important in late-stage 3, stage four, and stage five muscular CRS.

Yes, I said it would extend your life expectancy by more or less making your CRS irrelevant in stage 2, but the next point is what I think is the important one.

You have only to survive a couple of years that way. I have developed a way to make new cyberware CRS immune.”

Compared to the ruckus earlier, this was pandemonium. I honestly could understand not a single word of what was screamed at me. Part of that was that my aural implants kicked in and reduced the gain. But mostly it was that everybody, except Mr. Walker and his crew, was screaming all at once.

For around five minutes Vince did not even try to calm them down, so after a minute or so I sat back down.

When the outrage had abated Vince took a few deep breaths before he continued.

“Do I understand you correctly, Ms. Sinclair? You have a way to beat CRS?”

And back up again. But before I could stand, Mr. Walker, tugged at my sleeve and whispered:

“Do not say a single word of where you live now.” I looked at him for a moment in confusion, but then shrugged and began to answer.

“Yes, sir, I have. The process is, admittedly not fully developed yet, and what I have is a small system that was originally intended more as a proof of concept, but the technique works and can be used for small implants.”

“And if it is just a proof of concept how do you know that it works?”

“For one, neural implants are small, and if I am honest, I don’t particularly relish the idea of getting neural CRS, so the first thing I did after I tested the technique was to replace my jack and other neural implants.

About the tests, I used ten thousand transhumant lab rats, gave them some implants and a drug cocktail that increased the probability of CRS to somewhere around 99%.

Of these rats, around 100 not developing CRS would be the expected result. After three months, not a single one had it. I will admit that I did not use the same drug cocktail on myself.”

“And what do you have to do to fully develop the system?”

“The basic of the technique is to sheath the implant with a biological layer derived from the DNA of the patient and to lay a nano filter above the connective surfaces.

And yes, that sounds like the encapsulation method that has been tried several times already, but it is different.

The problem now is that at this moment my small experimental bioreactor is brute-forcing this process by essentially burning nanobots. It is possible, if expensive for small parts, or disassembled parts, but it will be impossible to scale up this process.”

Vince nodded at that. “Ok, that is understandable. We all know what nanobots cost and nobody would pay several billion for cyberware.”

Then an Asian woman interceded.

“One thing we have to decide is if we believe her. I mean, look at her. She looks like she should be in a high school somewhere. I mean, how old are you child?”

Urgh, that again. And this time I would not get away with the ‘I am older than I look answer’. So the complicated answer.

“That depends, ma’am. Do you want to know my biological, chronological, or my mental age?”

That stumped here for a moment.

“There is only one age per person.”

“Not quite so ma’am. You see, I am a Pure. We live longer than non-Pures and age a bit slower. So biologically I would guess myself at somewhere around 16 or 17. Chronologically, I was born a bit over 18 years ago. But neither of them tells you what you want to know, and that is what are my education level, my skill level, and my experience. And the answer to that is I am a Jack.”

“So you are a hacker, good for you. And as you are still alive you are probably one of the better ones. But that does not change that you are only 18 as you said yourself.”

“You forgot the one advantage that jacks have above every other hacker, over anybody really ma’am. We have time compression.

For every hour in real life the average Jack with an average board spends in cyberspace he experiences 25.

I am not an average Jack and my board is not average either.

So to answer your question, I spent nearly 40 years in virtual reality with the help of one of the top 50 supercomputers of the world learning the skills, learning how CRS works, and creating this solution.”

“And we should believe that an accomplished implant surgeon is also an above-average Jack? Just like that? Don’t you think that is too much coincidence?”

“You got that the wrong way. I am an implant surgeon because I am a Jack.

I have to admit when I had my first jack implanted I had only vague notions of CRS. When I learned about it I had the choice of removing the jack, living with it, or trying to find a solution to the problem.

I still have my jack, well a new, better one, so obviously I choose not to remove it.

Instead, I learned implant surgery, and implant design, even nanoengineering, to combat CRS.

And I found a possible solution a bit over four months ago in real life.

So, no coincidence here. The coincidence that I myself find suspicious is that this insane plot is happening right now when I am being forced to relocate to the exact city where it is taking place.”

Vince again banged his gavel.

“Alright people. I think we need a little pause here to clear our heads. So let’s come back a bit later.”

In the general chaos of nearly 200 people moving around, I missed at first Mr. Walker talking into his com, but I could hear him when I got closer.

“No, damn it. There is no time. I will clear it later, but for now, take the skimmer and come to the roof of the LaGuardia Plaza…. I know you can fly it… Tell them it is a matter of life and death… no time for that… good, she will be up there. I will send additional men to help you but you should consider yourself under siege now.” He sounded and behaved rather frantic. When he shut down the call he immediately turned to Ryan and spoke quietly.

“Ryan, take Kitten, bring her up to the roof. You two will be picked up by Justin. I will send Oleg with you to the roof.” I was seriously dumbfounded.

“Mr. Walker, what is wrong?”

He gave me a pained smile.

“I sadly don’t have the time to explain it now Kitten, but you are in danger right now.

So if you would please go with Ryan and Oleg? Thank you.”

And he marched off, while I still did not understand a thing. But Ryan obviously was better trained than me, and softly but decidedly pulled at my arm to get me moving. After the first few meters, I shook my head clear and walked under my own power.

“What the heck did just happen?” Ryan shook his head.

“No fucking Idea. The boss just murmured something about fucking insane Ruskies, told Oleg to keep you safe until you are in the skimmer, and then called somebody. Now he has sent us three to the roof.”

We had arrived at the lift bank a bit away from the rest of the people, and while we waited for the lift, one of Kursalin’s men made a direct line towards us.

I did not like how he looked at me, and just this moment I wished I had my gun. Then the lift arrived and Ryan pulled me into it, followed by Oleg. When the door closes he pressed the buttons for the second and the ground floor.

“Huh, aren’t we supposed to go to the roof?”

“Yes, but did you see the muscle moving towards us? It seems somebody wants to have a short pointed discussion with you, and it is my job to make that not happen.

You can bet that he is in the next lift down towards the lobby. We will get off on the second floor and…” The door opened and he pulled me out, and towards the stairs.

“Then we will take the stairs up.

Unlike lifts, stairs won’t show the floor they are going on a nice little display.”

Then we remained mostly silent, with only the accessional curse being uttered.

When we reached the roof access my legs felt as if somebody had repeatedly put them through the meat grinder, and I learned that my hip was not as healed as I hoped. At the roof I was greeted by the skimmer we had found in the garage.

After Ryan and were seated and we had lifted off, the question stood in the room.

“Does anybody here know what actually happened? I thought it was going good and then… “

Unfortunately, I only received shrugged shoulders, and then we already had reached the fortress.