The Audric Experiment Read online

  “It’s eighteenth century history.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Master Kill. Best videogame ever. Caleb Price is who you’ve got to kill. Trust me. I know.”

  “I’ve gotta find out if Audric has labeled me an outlaw.”

  “Green light district. Chester told me about it. Get a girl.

  “A prostitute?”

  “Yeah. After the depression thirty-five years ago, they decided prostitutes had a right to

  know if they were engaged in an act of commission with an outlaw. If you scan your funds card it will alert the two of you where you stand. Whether or not you’re an outlaw.”

  “Do I have to, you know.”

  “Only if you want to. Pay her the money and then say no thanks. But prostitutes have the right to choose what johns are public knowledge and which ones aren’t. The data will get transmitted to Audric Headquarters but it will be locked. I doubt anyone will expect you to be smart enough to go to a prostitute.”

  “I have to know if I can contact my parents.”

  “Seeing a prostitute is your best bet.”

  “Where’s the nearest one?”

  “We’ll check the BIP. They have listings. So you stay here for a few days. I’ll see what

  I can find out about your situation. You go to a prostitute. That’s the game plan for now. We’ll worry about Caleb Price soon.”

  “I never thought I’d go against Audric. I never thought I’d even think of being a Gambler. But I didn’t expect this. When I was a kid, I saw him.” He looked up at Gordy, his eyes slightly watery. “Max was taking karate and Caleb Price was one of the sanseis. Kalpana didn’t mention that when she told me about him. Probably because she knew it was being videotaped. But Caleb seemed like a good guy. Now, he thinks Karma is a ‘random bitch.’ For whatever reason, Caleb has turned worse than I could have ever thought. He started the Karma program which is the most anti-Audric thing anyone has done in years. He’s protecting something. But I don’t know what.”

  Gordy nodded, then shrugged. “Gamblers would take you in. You’d have more security

  and you’d be valuable to them with what you know about Caleb. There’s a lot at stake for Audric here. They’ll report this around the world and they could say Audric was a failure.”

  “They’d say Caleb was a failure. And they’d say I was a failure. Not Audric.”

  “Do you still feel the same loyalty to Audric?”

  Pierre nodded. “A little. I care about being Pure Pierre.”

  “Yeah, you need the clout. But you’re not Pure Pierre. Not anymore. You need to get the clout back. Gotta decide what your next card to play is.”

  “I think I should take the GSKT.”

  “Why?”

  “I think I can ace it.”

  “Well, yeah. If it’s about eighteenth century history.”

  He looked up at Gordy. “I think if it’s about anything. I think if it’s about anything, I can ace it.”

  Gordy had a misjudged gift from his grandmother – a big black T-shirt and pants – that would fit Pierre. But if there was anything in Brighton that was never misjudged it was the weather. It would rain all day, a storm so ferocious that Gordy and his parents, Greg and Dixie, were staying home from school and work. Gordy told Pierre that he couldn’t be seen walking into the woods by his parents and that they would have to spend the day apart communicating only electronically.

  Greg was spending the day on his computer looking through spreadsheets, and Dixie in her office signing papers. With two books of GSKT practice tests, Pierre had more than enough to keep his mind occupied. Most of the answers on the GSKT were mementos of simple things he’d picked up over the years such as basic math skills, language idioms, and common knowledge. Some questions he couldn’t remember ever learning the answers for.

  The dizziness he had felt yesterday seemed to return but only mildly. By four o’clock he’d gone through seven tests and had gotten a perfect score on each one. He was enjoying it. He looked on the BIP for a prostitute listing, trying to find one nearby, outside of the green light district which was on the other side of town. He found a listing for a girl named Rio. He saw her picture, looking not for attractiveness but rather friendliness and ease of communication. But then something happened to put an end to his positive mood.

  Greg and Dixie were arguing in the kitchen. Pierre was tuning it out at first, then he heard his name. He looked out the window of the treehouse, Greg and Dixie looking blurry through the window because of the torrent.

  “What if it was Gordy?” Greg was saying in the kitchen as he walked towards Dixie in the living room. A window was open a crack.

  Dixie sighed. “Remember we met his parents at the Entrepreneurial Etiquette showcase. They seemed like such nice people.”

  “Audric is important to a lot of people,” Greg said, taking a sip of beer. “How can you be Audric Compliant with no shocks and think life isn’t worth living?”

  “What do you want to do Greg?”

  “The execs at Generation Gold have a plan. There’s another Pierre Morena in Santa Clara. We know how to kill Pierre. Through strictly legal means.”

  “Elaborate.”

  He sighed. “We can make him so depressed he’ll have a good reason to kill himself this

  time. He’ll be dead in under two weeks. Pierre isn’t Gordy. Gordy is a good kid. Everyone in Brighton is making excuses for Pierre. I say it’s gone too far.”

  “I say we let bygones be bygones. Santa Clara was a long time ago.”

  “Everything we hold dear is at stake.”

  “Talk to Gordy before you do anything. He’s friends with him. Maybe he knows more

  than you do.”

  “Fine. But if Gordy is in agreement that we know enough, I say Pierre’s done.”

  Greg walked out of the room and the conversation was over. Santa Clara? Pierre asked himself if he knew anything about that, then realized he did. Santa Clara, Cuba. Population 250,000. The fifth largest Cuban city. He searched his mind to try to find out what else he knew. “Santa Clara disappeared into oblivion a hundred years ago,” he said out loud. “Sort of like Brighton had.”

  He watched Gordy on his computer, expecting to see Greg go into Gordy’s room. Greg didn’t. Pierre took one of Gordy’s books off the nightstand and took a seat watching through the window. Then, he saw Gordy running towards him, the rain calm enough now to make the trip.

  Gordy entered the treehouse and took off his jacket.

  Pierre stared at him. “Santa Clara,” Pierre said. “What does that mean to you?”

  “Santa Clara …” Gordy swallowed then shrugged. “It’s where my parents are from. They’re not Brighton born. Santa Clara, Cuba.”

  “There’s another Pierre Morena there?” Pierre sat on the bed and didn’t break his stare. “I was listening. To your parents.”

  “All right.” Gordy took a seat. “Brian showed me this pamphlet he got from Ethan Chadwick. Ethan Chadwick was a Gambler. It’s about the science of RF shielding. RF shielding blocks electromagnetic radiation. And that’s what our acceptors function with. The brain creates at electromagnetic field.”

  Pierre thought back to the woman asking David if Pierre knew about the RF shielding pamphlet. They must have found one on the thirteenth floor. For the first time, he realized, as a small smile lifted his lips, that he had verification, however small, that someone else was involved on the thirteenth floor – that he didn’t just try to kill himself.

  “Brian says that the BIP is internet. It’s just been limited.”

  “Why would they limit it?” Pierre asked.

  Gordy smiled. “There’s another Audric. A sister site. It’s in Santa Clara, Cuba and it’s almost a hundred years old. It’s called Stylic. They had the internet. But Brian’s Dad told him there was too much information exchange an
d people wanted to know too much about Genesis Smith. That’s why they nixed the big internet in Brighton.”

  “Why would Genesis Smith even be around a hundred years ago?”

  “I was thinking that too. Maybe Genesis Smith is a front. Maybe he doesn’t exist. They

  didn’t want anyone to find out and that’s why they never told us how the BIP worked.”

  “Can we get the big internet that they have in the states?”

  “Yes. It’s done with a wireless connection.” He put a stylish square inch device into the tablet. “This is called a router. So I put listings on the BIP for Pierre Morena’s Orangina Bottles. I’m selling them for two pounds each from Generation Gold. My Dad helped me set it up. So a lot of people are gonna buy them.”

  “Not like you need the money.”

  “No.” Gordy bit his bottom lip. “Brian’s Dad works for the Central Intelligence Agency. You’re right, there’s another Pierre Morena in Santa Clara, Cuba. And Brian called him

  a few days ago. Brian got him to start selling RF shielding screening solution for windows, clothes, screening tents, etcetera. The computer in Southwick Harbor which is online doesn’t know there’s more than one Pierre Morena. So the computer thinks that people buying the Orangina bottles are actually buying RF shielding screening solution.”

  “So everyone in Brighton that buys a Pierre Morena Orangina Bottle is registering with the computer in Southwick as buying RF shielding solution?”

  “Right. But here it gets interesting. As you probably know, Genesis Smith gave ratings to everything that could be bought and sold. For instance, if you buy oatmeal it gets rated high and that factors into how many boosts you get and when. He never thought anyone would buy RF shielding solution. Audric Earnings Authority took such great pains to make sure no one ever knew about RF shielding. So as an inside joke Genesis Smith gave negative ratings to RF shielding products. The people buying Pierre Morena Orangina Bottles are going to get incredibly depressed.” Gordy gave a big smile of satisfaction.

  “You weren’t even gonna tell me?”

  “Dude, did you try to kill yourself?”

  “No.”

  “So what? Someone pushed you?”

  “I told you, I don’t remember. Caleb Price has put a kill order on me. The Gamblers have taken an interest in me. My therapist is telling me about Elijah Harbinger as disinformation. And David says I threaten the Zero Proposition if I remember. It’s safe to say I’m involved in something more than just a suicide.” Pierre stood up. “What about me? What about the fact that they are Pierre Morena’s Orangina bottles.”

  Gordy swallowed. “Yeah. I think they thought about that.”

  Pierre just stared at him. “So I get depressed. I get so depressed I become suicidal.”

  Gordy nodded. “I think you should find a different place to stay. It’s only a matter of time before they realize I don’t have a good reason to be walking into the woods.”

  “Fine. So don’t walk through the woods. It’s my treehouse too. Tomorrow I’ll go to the

  girl and find out where I stand. Then the day after tomorrow I’ll take the GSKT in Roudeville.” Gordy stood up. “Good luck.” As Gordy walked out of the treehouse he turned to Pierre, “You’re officially no longer Audric Compliant. Start acting like it.”

  Pierre was primed to strike but he didn’t. Pierre knew that Gordy had been building towards saying that sentence for years, and it probably felt just right for him now. Pierre wanted to put Gordy in his place but was realizing he had to pick his battles.

  That night, he went to sleep in the treehouse feeling angry and nervous. Rio was three blocks away and he’d call her early, set up an appointment, and stop by the STD testing building. He thought he could risk walking down the street, given that it was not a heavily trafficked area and that there was nothing new about him on the BIP.

  Pierre was no longer Audric Compliant and that was just beginning to sink in. He was on his own now, lost and afraid, with no direction, no guide, no order, and even more frightening, no edict worth the belief in God. That last fact had never bothered him before. But now, it felt horrible.

  One thing about visiting a prostitute that was common knowledge was the requisite rating one had to report about his or her partner. It was a controversial rule among many who visited a prostitute often. Audric made plain that the rating, between one and ten, would be used strictly in therapeutic assessments and that it would not be shared with anyone. Some claimed that they were going to be billed for being a lousy lay but Audric steadfastly refuted those claims.

  In addition, one had to swipe one’s funds card which had information about the outcome and date of one’s most recent STD test. The prostitute and the John or Jane were both subject to this requirement. Prostitutes typically got tested every night. Barnaby Brown was responsible for this rule and it was part of his campaign promise when he was elected leader of Audric over thirty years ago. Since then, the prostitution sect of Audric society had been an overwhelming success.

  Pierre stopped by the STD testing building knowing full well that he wouldn’t have to deal with any humans. All STD testing was done with robots. He pocketed his funds card and made his way along the Ashley Donovan Parkway looking for Winchester Ave. Traffic was light which gave him a boost of confidence. He’d spoken to Rio that morning and she said, “See you then, babe,” apparently donning her working girl persona right off the bat. Pierre was nervous about whether he’d have sex with her or not.

  After yesterday’s fight with Gordy, Pierre was looking ahead to the possibility of

  someone to talk to. And while he kept telling himself to keep quiet about anything personal, the urge inside him to unburden himself, to share, to make a human connection, and purge himself of his loneliness was undeniable. Part of the reason was that he’d dreamt of Dot last night. The fear of the perversion that came with visiting a prostitute was colliding with his strong desire to be with Dot. Not just because she was beautiful but because she was the answer to all of his suffering and questions.

  Rio was in an apartment that used a hotel style booking system and allowed occupants to check out whenever they wished. Pierre found this encouraging because it meant that Rio wasn’t in the green light district and that she was desirable enough to garner a lot of money. But his thoughts were still with Dot, and silly as it seemed, he couldn’t get her out of his head.

  The door opened and Rio stood there. She had red hair, cat like eyes, and she filled out a robe – her nipples visible through the fabric. Pierre felt his face redden slightly. Rio smiled.

  “Pierre, I take it?”

  Pierre nodded. “Yeah. I’m a little early. I hope that’s all right.”

  “Come in,” she turned and welcomed him in.

  “I had to walk. My Sun Pod is malfunctioning.”

  She walked towards him and put her arms on his shoulders as the door closed. “Not a

  problem,” she said. She glanced at his crotch.

  It struck Pierre as embarrassing and he chuckled a bit. “I don’t know what I want to use the time for.”

  “Just want a talk? You a shy guy?”

  Pierre nodded. “Sort of.”

  “Gotta scan you first, baby.”

  Pierre pulled out his funds card and Rio walked over to a scanner embedded in the wall.

  Pierre felt like his entire being was now standing three feet in front of him. He scanned his card.

  300 Pound Transaction

  STD Test Negative (Last checked today)

  Status: Legal

  Pierre breathed out a nervous sigh. Rio scanned a card she’d taken from her robe pocket and it displayed her status as clean and legal as well. Pierre looked back at the door debating on whether or not to stay. Then he noticed something.

  On the wall, next to the scanner, was a digital photo display – a four foot wide framed set of photogr
aphs of different girls. The photos were on a rotation so it showed the girls faces, then other viewing options such as watching a video.

  One of the photos was of Dot Hawkings.

  “What’s this?” Pierre asked, trying not to show his shock.

  “Those are Camelia’s prospectives. The new girls.”

  Pierre felt his face red now. He pointed at Dot. “I know her.”

  “Dot? So do I.’

  “She a…” he trailed off.

  Rio smiled. “You and her? I don’t think so babe. She’s been groomed to be a working girl since her early teens. She’s been around the block pulling a thousand stiff ones. You and her ain’t gonna happen.”

  “Why is she going to be a working girl?”

  Rio shrugged. “I think you get into this business because of your parents. Both her

  parents were Audric Compliant. Father was a drug runner gambling with his life. I think her mother worked at a facility or something. Dot told me that every time the Gamblers go on a raid her hands start trembling. You’re in this profession long enough you learn life isn’t supposed to be a pleasurable experience. You learn to endure. Dot has already learned that. That’s why she’s a shoe-in for this job.” Rio applied a pointer finger to Dot’s photo and it brought a list of options from a personal statement to a body advertisement. “Want to watch her video?”

  Pierre nodded. Rio touched the personal statement icon and it brought up a video of Dot. She looked into the camera and spoke.

  “Hey guys. My name’s Dot Hawkings and I’m a freelance seducer. I charge four hundred pounds an hour and I like men of all sorts. I’ve got a satisfactory body and you can judge my face for yourself. I’m young, get tested every night, and only do it with protection. That means condoms. I like to get to know my Johns a bit. A brief talk beforehand and I find things go more smoothly. It’s a good ride with me. I’ll take you around the world and back. Kisses.”

  Now, Pierre knew why he cared, and why it felt so wrong. He supposed it was because of his dreams about her. She was his own personal secret, something now embedded in his soul. He couldn’t shake her no matter what.

  “Camelia manages the girls. Dot is freelance, but Camelia still needs to approve her,” Rio said, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it. She walked towards the bedroom and then turned to him. “You coming?”