iD (The Machine Dynasty #2)

It wasn’t so different from this conversation, really.

“I wish I’d seen something like that,” Manuel said. “It’s hard. I went into the forest expecting to have something happen to me. They’ve worked so hard to preserve it. I thought it would be… more…”

“Magical,” Javier said.

“Yes. That’s right. Magical.” Manuel shrugged. “Stupid, huh?”

Javier shook his head. “It’s not stupid at all.” He ducked his head a little to catch Manuel’s eye. “Really. It isn’t. You fell for the hype. That’s not your fault.”

Manuel rolled his eyes. “It’s no different from coming to this place, then, is it?”

Javier looked around. The Holy Family had reached their destination. The crowd was singing “Noche de Paz.” A star twinkled above the trees. After watching it for a moment, Javier realized it was a botfly set to overload.

“Sure it’s different,” he said. “You met me.”

Manuel smiled. “I was told to meet you.”

An instant tension in Javier’s legs readied him for escape. Who had sent this man? He didn’t read like a cop, or even like New Eden. Who were they? And why had they waited this long to make their move?

“Wow,” Manuel said. “It’s true.”

“What’s true?”

“What they say, about your poker face. You guys are amazing. There’s just…” Manuel waved a hand in front of Javier’s face. “Nothing.”

“Still waters run deep,” Javier said.

Manuel smiled and reached into his pocket. He held out a small key fob. “You’re invited.”

Javier raised his eyebrows. “To what?”

“To a private tournament. The vN are not allowed on the casino floor, and my companion would like to stake you to a game.”

“I’ll beat him,” Javier said.

“My companion is a lady. And she would like to test her skill.”

Javier tilted his head. “Aren’t you enough of a test of her skills?”

“Most of the time.” Manuel offered his arm. “But my lady is nothing if not an overachiever.”



The lady’s accommodations were a loft suite identical to Javier’s on the opposite side of the ship. Hers had a piano, though. It was a real piano; the guts were visible, literally and figuratively. Someone had left a highball glass of water out on a table near it. Adjacent to the piano were a wet bar and a dinner table inlaid with matching mosaic tile, and when Javier entered the room, she stood up from the head of the table.

She was in her late forties or early fifties, judging by her hands and the stiffness in her posture. She was very petite and thin, and had deep purple hair, cut at a sharp angle. She wore multiple loops of black pearls around her neck and down her flat chest. The pearls were perfectly round, with the iridescent pinks and greens of a parking lot oil slick. He had a sudden desire to see what they would look like on Amy.

“I bought them after my first tournament, in Shanghai,” she said, touching the pearls carefully. “The producers wanted a little local colour, as it were. I wasn’t expected to win. They called me Poker Alice. It stuck. People still call me Alice, and so can you. Unless you feel like telling me your real name.”

He took her proffered hand and held it in both his own. Hers was dry, and very cool. Warfarin, maybe. Though she could likely afford drugs tailored to her genes.

“Your pearls are very beautiful,” Javier said. “They suit you.”

She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. An old habit of a professional gambler, he guessed. “I suspected you might be charming, Mr Montalban.”

“It’s just the suit.”

Now she smiled genuinely, and he felt better. She looked at Manuel. “May we have some drinks, please?”

“Of course,” Manuel said, and went behind the bar. He brought out a few bottles of vN-friendly liquids. Unstoppered, they smelled like perfume. “I know the Electric Sheep has this cocktail called a Tears in the Rain, but they don’t make a vN version.”

Manuel used tongs to measure out a grouping of glittering crystals into a martini shaker. “These are druzy-style moissanites that I’ve kept at sub-zero,” he said. “They share the same molecular pattern as a diamond, but they’re made from silicon and not carbon. The interior of this shaker is diamond carbide, so as I shake it,” he started shaking, “the moissanites start chipping off in microscopic fragments.” He shook for another minute, then poured the liquid into a squat, square glass.

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