Reception

Chapter 8 - Service Lost

Damien and Michael made it to Forti Mall only an hour before the scheduled meeting. The magnetic tram system had been acting up, causing regular stops and repairs, delaying all who rode it; including them.

Damien looked around him. The interior of the enclosed mall was vast and wide. Every place his eyes focused on was inhabited by a shop or a store, a kiosk or a booth. It was impossible to make one person out from another as hundreds of people clamored for the very little room left along the walkways. Damien was shoved a couple of times, in fact, by a few people trying to get around him.

"This is bad," panicked Damien, "There's no way to tell where they'll come from."

"I agree," came Michael's small electronic voice in Damien's ear, "Even the Enforcers would curse and swear if they had to set up an operation in here."

"Probably why they chose this location," scoffed Damien, "It's crowded, packed, and crammed with people. Perfect to hide, perfect to keep tabs on people. Even if, hypothetically, we could tell where they'd prefer to hide out, there's no guarantee they'd even place that many people there. Most of them, in fact, could be hiding out on the second and third story balconies." Damien pointed upward, demonstrating his point.

Michael was silent for a second, processing what Damien had said. It was a moment or two before he responded, "I agree. But I have to say, you play way too many video games."

"I'm cutting back," snapped Damien.

"Right," Michael said disbelievingly. "For right now, though, I'm running a simulation to calculate the best vantage point in the mall based on its dimensions and parameters."

"You can do that?" Damien asked, surprised.

"I am a computer protocol at heart, Damien," Michael's voice laughed in Damien's ear, "Body of a god and the brains of a computer. Perfect boyfriend."

Damien laughed, "Okay, Mr. Perfect-Computer-God, where will they most likely strike from?"

Damien could hear his TED whirring and calculating as Michael no doubt accessed deeper systems to run what he needed to make his calculations. After a few minutes a musical confirmation notified Damien that the simulation had finished its run-through.  Michael reported back, "It seems the best vantage point, with a full one-hundred-and-fourteen-degree view, would be the second story, third terrace." There was a slight pause, "Want to go take it first?"

"Finders keepers," grinned Damien.

*****

Damien and Michael waited out most of the remaining time. Damien had, upon finding the terrace, visited a nearby booth to buy a drink. He figured there was no sense in causing undue anxiety. His idled sips led him deeper and deeper in thought.

"What do you suppose is the best course of action?" came the familiar velvet voice in his ear.

"No idea," Damien tilted his head, zoning in on a few particular people on the first floor below them, watching them scurry to and from stores, "I figure I'll try to negotiate the release of Sarah."

"Go Mr. Hostage Negotiator," whistled Michael.

"I know, I got my fake degree online," Damien chuckled. "But, seriously," he resumed, "What are The Holos after? You said they were a post-war terrorist group, right? What could they possibly want with Sarah?"

"It's not what they necessarily want with Sarah," Michael informed, "it's what they want with her grandfather, Dr. Gram. They probably want the technology that he had at his disposal."

"You mean the real, not-real holoGRAMs?" said Damien, taking a long draw from the straw in his drink.

"Makes sense, doesn't it?"