We Are All Made of Stars

Part 2 - Marble

The day was misty and grey to the point of being dour. My headlights provided only a small portion of visibility as I sped down the highway. The map occupied the passenger seat next to me.

Abby had been relentless in her efforts to reach me over my scroller. I ignored her calls. I knew she wouldn't approve of what I was doing. She would rant that I needed to go to the police and do everything in her power to wear me down until I caved. I couldn't let that happen. Chan's note was ominous in its implications.

"I made it out while he didn't"

If Tony was into something shady, I didn't want to put him in jeopardy by involving the authorities — at least not until I'd had a chance to talk to him.

The motel Chan had died in looked exactly like the place one would go to with suicidal intent. It was a grim little concrete building, clearly built in the days before structurefoam was invented. The walls here would stain, the bricks would wear away over time, and eventually it would crumble into dust.

That thought brought a lurch to my heart. Had I shared such an observation with Tony in the old days, he'd have smiled and just reminded me "It's all stars, babe."

I rented the very room Chan had spent his final hours in. It was somewhat jarring that the option was even available. Sure, it was no longer an active crime scene — but for the motel management to spray it down and change the linens so soon after a man ended his life there...

The room was small and smelled heavily of disinfectant. The white fan clung to the ceiling, motionless. I tried not to picture Chan's limp body swinging from it. I've always had a vivid imagination though. I'd simply have to endure the macabre images my mind conjured as I set about my mission.

No doubt the cops had swept the room and bagged any items of interest for their investigation. But the case had been open and shut, really. No need to look all that closely.

The map I'd received was not exactly as it had been the night Tony left with it. Chan had made an addition. He'd circled a new location in red marker; the very place I was now. Next to it, in that irritatingly perfect handwriting were these words:

Inside the mattress

Once again I tried not to think about the horror that had taken place in this room as I went to work. Hands trembling, I pulled away the duvet and sheets to expose the yellowing mattress. Brown stains, the origins of which I hope to never know, speckled its surface.

I hesitated. This was insane. Maybe I was insane. Maybe I needed to just leave. I'd get in my car, find the nearest sensoryfeed den and drown myself in virtual debauchery until all of this just felt like it had been a bad dream.

Then Tony's face flashed through my mind. I could almost feel his arms around me as I basked in the memory of one of our stargazing nights.

A buzz from my scroller ripped me from my reverie. Abby again. This time it was a text:

Where the hell are you? CALL ME.

Blinking ellipses indicated that she was still typing. I sighed and simply switched the damn thing off before she could finish her message.

I regarded the mattress with a grimace. I retrieved the flicknife from my pocket.

The old bed's bowels were musty. I sliced through the foam webbing like I was gutting a deer. Split from end to end, my hands dug feverishly for the mattress' secret. Before long I was furious. What the hell was I supposed to find in here? Where the fuck was it?

Beads of sweat were running down my forehead when I finally grasped my prize. It was small and spherical. As I plucked it from the plushy depths, I recognized what it was — a data marble. The tiny blue light on one side flickered, indicating that it housed a video recording.