Page 3 of Tapeworld Induction

“Leak was sloppy alright…” he muttered to himself.

All his life he’d yearned for freedom, security, happiness. He thought he at least had freedom, if nothing else.

But doing Astrid’s bidding like this wasn’t freedom.

Isaak sat down and leant against the concrete wall. He studied the still humming corridors of the data centre one last time. His eyes slid back to the man he’d shot, and he looked again at the dead man’s face. His eyes were open. The emptiness behind them beckoned to Isaak, pulling him in like a grim embrace.

Isaak closed his eyes tight, trying to erase what he’d just seen. He removed the piece of tape on the side of his head.

Deep black, a near liquid darkness, engulfed him. For an instant there was only him, his bag, and the void.

He felt like shouting or kicking something. Or, better yet, both at the same time. He rubbed over his moustache and beard, the crisp sensation earning the approval of some part of his brain. The part that could tell he was in Brixton right now, and he hadn’t really been in that data centre just then. The part that was quickly getting to work on trying to forget what had just happened. Glossing over the messy details to conclude that he hadn’t shot anyone, or that if he did, they probably were a bot. Almost certainly. Right?

He bit down his emotions and leaned back into the black office chair in his cheap studio home – not exactly where he’d hoped to be at thirty. The kitchen area, unlike in most bachelor pads, was clean, dirty dishes nowhere to be seen. Tofu blocks, boxes of InstaMeat, and cans of beans lined the small pantry. Behind him was a bookshelf stuffed with studiously read books, a mix of sci-fi, tech writing, and various hardware and software reference guides, all bought in the hopes the gods of Silicon Valley would hurry up and jump-start the future. That was how he used to think, until he started these gigs. The future was already here, it turned out.

Fuck Silicon Valley.

Tonight’s stride lingered in his mind. Nothing like that had ever happened before. They’d been pure sneak runs: in and out, zero contact. Raiding digital warehouses in that other place. There was money in it.

The tape recorder had proved useful. His eyes went to the data stick on his desk, hooked up to a roll of duct tape next to it. He’d got what Astrid wanted. It might not be everything, but it should be good enough.

Typically the loot was encrypted, impossible for him to examine himself. This time, however, as he transferred it from the tape to the stick, he realised the data seemed to be readable. He tried to look away, but caught a glimpse of an acronym.

GK

It disappeared as the transfer finished. He didn’t recognise it, but Astrid always kept the details of the data strides to herself. Tonight’s set-up was nothing new. She managed him through the earpiece, he got in and took the stuff. Every place he’d visited so far had been unguarded – forgotten caches of data. So why had there been a guard there this time?

He grabbed his phone off his desk and thumbed through the avatars of his contacts. It wasn’t a long list.

Astrid. His gut clenched as he thumbed the pop-culture character she used as an avatar. It was an anime woman, some character he didn’t – couldn’t – recognise.

It rang three times before she answered.

“I already told you not to call me IRL,” Astrid said by way of a hello, her tone taut.

“I’m not happy about how that went,” he said, straight to business.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Ike. I’ll see you at our usual appointment.” Their “usual appointment” being when and where he’d hand her the stolen property, and she’d pay him for the service. She started a hurried goodbye, not even attempting to hide the contempt in her voice.

He swallowed. He wasn’t used to facing up to people in positions of authority over him, but he forced himself to speak before she could hang up. “Don’t fuck with me, Astrid.”

“That’s the opposite of what you said when we first met, if I remember correctly.”

Huh. That hurt.

He chose to ignore her remark. The past was the past. What happened happened. It was over between them. Strictly business now. “I’m having some difficulty” – he measured his words – “processing what happened tonight.”

“And what did happen, Ike?”

He squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his teeth together. He couldn’t tell if she’d hated him from the start, or only after she ended things between them. “Break-up” would be too strong a word. They had been “acquaintances with benefits” and she had withdrawn the benefits. That’s how she’d put it. He’d pretended back then that it didn’t hurt him, but it did. Not that he’d loved her or anything. But the moments after each… session together, were moments of peace, when his mind wasn’t engulfed by the pile of shit he was in. By how far he’d fallen.

“Oh, I know, I know,” Astrid said now, “you don’t like to be called that…” She sweetened her voice, manipulating him again. Astrid was more than fifteen years his senior. That had made it easy to seduce him, he thought. Wrap him around her little finger. He’d grown so used to it now that he had stopped fighting against it. “I gave you that gun for a reason. The day after tomorrow, the Boulevard, ten o’clock. Bring your homework.” She hung up.

Sullen, Isaak stared at the phone in his hand, then at his desk. Various torn bits of duct tape were stuck to it. His free hand reached for his aching right knee, massaging it over his jeans.

His fee for tonight’s heist would at least go a long way towards making rent for the next few months. Just a few more jobs and maybe he would actually be able to sort his shit out. That meant dealing with more of her, though. And dealing with whatever had happened in there…

The man’s blank, dead face flashed in his mind.