“Weird?”
“That’ll do for a start, yeah. You wouldn’t think it would be possible.”
“Well, according to Jay, it’s been possible since before the turn of the century. In the early days, you could buy things like full-sized silicone dolls, with functional, uh, apertures, complete with vibrators. Plug ‘er in, and go to town. But that was just high-tech masturbation. Now, you can connect yourself to various, ah; machines, dial up a friend, log into a joint VR sex feelie, and what you see is what you feel. Jay says the machines started out as things like phone pagers, but got a lot more sophisticated pretty quick. Some of them can mimic a penis or a vagina, either with expandable silicone rods, or as many as sixteen sequentially motor-driven, heated silicone undulant pads.”
“Do I want to hear this?”
“I dunno, do you?”
Toni thought about it for a second. “Sure. Never let it be said that after I got married and had a child I automatically turned into an old stick-inthe-mud.”
“The folks who are really into this call the sex devices McCleans.”
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Toni finished the carrot, reached for another, and raised one eyebrow.
“It’s from an old limerick, according to Jay.” “You don’t need to keep saying, ‘according to Jay.’ I’ll take your word for it.”
“Um. According to-I mean, you know about haptic f; mice and input pens and such. The McCleans came out I’of research for blind computer users. The top-ofthe-line limits have oral/genital/anal plugs or cavities, depending |on the users’, ah, physical configurations and desires. The ^headsets come with Aromajet’s DigiScents modules that can mimic certain body smells. They call these ‘reekers.’ f There is a tongue wafer from Taste-theRealThing-dot- |com that is electronically controlled to offer various tastes, pmd naturally, they call these ‘droolers.’ ”
“Reekers and droolers,” she said. “Sounds like some ? kind of medical condition.” “Or a law firm,” he said.
“Um. Anyway, the best units include form-fitting me- “morymesh mat can apply pressure in various ways, heat (tor cooling along any of the mesh ladders, along with vibrations.”
Toni disposed of the second carrot, then went to work | on a sweet purple onion. She said, “So you plug into a high-tech vibrator, or one into you, depending on your , gender, slip into some mesh thingee that is really com- I fortable, dial up the taste and smell of warm whatever, 1 and join your unseen loved one on a beach in VR some|where?”
“That’s what I am given to understand, yes.” “And how is it compared to the real thing?” “Well, according to Jay-and I am in no way otherwise knowledgeable about this, believe me-it’s not as good as the real thing, but it’s better than being alone. And in | some cases, there are sensations available you can’t get with a real partner. The Electric Tongue can actually deliver enough low-amperage-but-high-voltage to make
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your hair stand up. Then there is the lifelike vibrating anus…”
“Yuck! This sounds totally disgusting!”
“Well, sure,” he said, “because you have me. You are forever spoiled for other men and machines.”
That cracked her up, as he knew it would.
“Say, fellow, is that a banana hi your sarong, or are you just happy to see me?”
“It’s a banana.”
She laughed, and somehow his sarong fell down again.
8
Nicosia, California
-. night was cool, but not too cold, and the winding and Uy road fairly quiet. The target and his bodyguards were |ttn their way back from visiting some movie people who had a place in Lucas Valley. Santos didn’t know a lot f about movies, he did not spend much time in theaters, but this place, a ranch hidden from the road, was apparently ; pretty famous.
Santos had picked several places along the route where he could make his move, some better than others, but all should be workable if he did what he needed to do.
The limo passed his position, and he waited until it was i half-mile ahead of him before he started the big motorcycle’s engine and pulled out behind the car. There was no worry that he would lose them, for he knew where they were going.
They weren’t going to get there, though. Thirty minutes later, the limo approached his primary ion choice. But there was a car pulled off on the p shoulder on the dark stretch of road, a big American se
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dan, just sitting there. He didn’t see anybody silhouetted in the vehicle, but that did not matter.
It was a complication, and he let the limo drive past.
Five minutes past that, the secondary site loomed, but this time, the traffic was heavier than he’d expected.
The third choice was another six or seven minutes away. If there was a problem there, then he would scrub the mission for tonight and try again tomorrow.
As the road narrowed and curved, however, Santos saw that they were alone. He checked his speedometer. The bodyguard, who liked to drive fast, was going ten miles an hour faster than the posted limit.
Perfect.
A flip of a pair of temporary switches on the handlebar lit the flashing lights and cranked up the siren.
Ahead of him the limo slowed, and pulled off in exactly the place where he hoped it would. It was dark enough so any passersby wouldn’t see anything except the bike’s flashing lights-that’s what they’d be looking at as they went past And he wouldn’t need more than a couple minutes to do this.
The limo stopped, and Santos pulled the motorcycle up behind the car. He killed the siren, left the lights going, dismounted from the bike, and walked to the limo. The driver powered the window down.
“What’s the problem, Officer?” the driver asked.
In his best U.S. accent, Santos said, “You were going a little fast there, sir. Could I see your license and registration, please?”
“Aw, come on, you’re not gonna give me a ticket, are you? Out here in the middle of nowhere, no traffic?” The bodyguard opened his wallet and flashed a badge and ID card. “I’m Russell Rader, King Executive Protection Services. I’m a former LEO-FBI, retired, working a bodyguard assignment for Blue Whale. This is Mr. Ethan Dowling, the vice president.” He nodded at the passenger hi back, who smiled. “Cut me a little slack, okay?”
Santos pretended to think about it for a couple of sec
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He closed the fake ticket book he held. “Retired , huh? Well, I suppose I could let the speeding slide, did you know your license plate was about to fall “”
“What?”
“Screw must have fallen out, it’s barely hanging on. we a look.”
Santos moved back, and the driver alighted. Both men around to the back of the car. “Looks all right to ‘ Rader said.
Here was the tricky part. Santos squatted behind the put his right index finger on the plate holder. “No, r, see, right here?”
As he expected, the bodyguard squatted next to him to : a closer look.
As soon as the car’s occupants couldn’t see them, San- ; used his elbow.
: Normally, a squatting man wouldn’t have particularly i balance or leverage for such a strike. But Capoeira i an art based on movement in odd positions. Santos’s
; was superb.
He slammed the bodyguard flush on the right temple. he man fell as if somebody had chopped off his lower
Good night, Mr. Rader.
Santos stood. He walked around to the passenger side
Of the limo, leaned down.
The second bodyguard lowered his window. “Your friend is trying to fix the license plate, but his knife isn’t going to do the job. Do you have a screwdriver i the car?”
As the bodyguard opened his mouth to speak, Santos drove his fist into the man’s throat with as much power “s he could. He heard the voicebox break. The man clutched at his neck, and Santos fired a second strike, this
one with the heel of his hand to the man’s forehead. A
punch that hard likely would have broken his knuckles,
: but the heel of the hand was padded-you hit hard with
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soft, soft with hard, if you wanted to avoid damaging yourself.
The man’s head snapped back. Before he could move, Santos jerked the door open and grabbed the stunned guard’s neck with one hand and pinched his carotids shut. Ten seconds was more than enough. The man’s eyes rolled in his sockets, showing white. He was unconscious.
Santos released his grip. He didn’t want to kill him.
In the back, Mr. Dowling started sputtering: “What the-! Hey-!”
Santos could have pulled his pistol out and used it like a magic wand to silence the man, but he didn’t need it. He smiled, a broad, teeth-flashing grin. “This is a kidnapping, Ethan. You be quiet, or I’ll have to kill you.”