Ones and Zeros
Paying the cheque in had been a straightforward matter. Cavatt's
was an old bank, quiet and discreet. Almost like a private club,
it was close to impossible to get into without an introduction from
an existing client. Thorne had figured out soon after his first
couple of private jobs that money is no good without somewhere safe
to keep it. His opportunity had come when he had taken care of a
nasty piece of business for a certain member of the British royal
family. They may not have the positions they once did, but their
money and power hadn't slipped away. Spreading big money around
the world always had associated problems and Thorne was a problem
solver. His price had been an introduction to Cavatt's. Sometimes
a word from the right person is worth more than any monetary reward.
Cavatt's offices were understated luxury. An aura of old charm,
yet with the pervasive smell of money. There were no questions and
soon electronic ones and zeros would be quietly updating in several
other computers as the money slid anonymously into accounts in Cayman,
Austria and elsewhere. Carefully managed to avoid triggering any
money laundering flags that all banks had these days.
Thorne now sat in his spinner in the Cavatt's sheltered spinner
parking garage, getting his thoughts organized to plan his next
move. "What does Omni really want? What are the missing pieces
here?"
He had been lucky over the years. Oh, he was good, but there had
been several occasions where it was so nearly him lying face down
in his own blood instead of his target. It was an extra sense the
best blade runners developed. More than simply an enhanced survival
instinct, it sometimes seemed to come down to just pure luck. He'd
explained his theory once to an old blade friend who had also tried
to get out of Rep-Detect, but had been dragged in for one last job,
"Its like everyone has this pot of luck to last them their
whole lives. A good blade uses his luck in large chunks. But there
is only a limited supply - when it's gone, that's it. You're done."
Rick's pot had lasted just long enough to get him through his last
job, but must have gone dry. They said he'd been killed while pursuing
a particularly nasty group of escaped Sixes. Those with inside information
knew he'd actually done the job, but then run off with another replicant.
"Fool."
Thorne had a strong feeling that his own pot of luck was getting
close to empty. His instincts and skills would take him a long way,
but at some point… "Damn! I gotta get out of this business!
Time to take the money and buy my way outta here. Soon as I finish
this one last job…"
His money - hiding in ones and zeros. Shadow money in black and
white strokes. Reflecting a shadow life in a black and white world.
He may feel like the grey shadow hiding in the middle of lies and
deceptions, but in the great computer of life it still came down
to ones and zeros. One - you're alive; Zero - you're dead.
Thorne had felt the slight lump in the corner of his wallet when
he was completing his financial transactions. Small comfort. His
thoughts turned back to Sandeman. "Perhaps you were right,
old friend."
Options
Option 1 - Remembering
Sandeman
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Date: 2002-07-20 16:15
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