STRATEGIC BEHAVIOR (REVISING)

CHAPTER 3: CHECKERS OR CHESS

The Maker. Who was this guy? Norma waited in the lobby to see him. There, chairs and sofas made of responsive smart-polymers conformed to occupants for a customized seating experience. Wang & Reyes products, she was pleased to see. Then her pleasure morphed to concern. A club that revered her brand might know her face.

She calmed her nerves. Nobody ever stopped her on the streets like they did Chaz. Double-checking to make sure her user-ID was under a VPN, she anxiously glanced at the time via her retinal insert.

Beyond the digital clock in her periphery, the walls of the lobby rippled at intervals to three-dimensional nature scenes. Holographs imbedded in the grassy floor contributed to the feeling of being transported to sunny glades, icy tundra, primordial forests. Quiet drones skirted towering, augmented reality trees to serve glimmering drinks to the patrons waiting with her. She noticed curving fabric walls sectioned off other rooms and wondered where they led.

"Ms. Reyes?" A man appeared at her side.

Norma pivoted with wide eyes. "My insert is set to private!"

He smiled and inclined his head. "My apologies. Our scanners filter out virtual private networks and read actual internet protocol identities. I assure you we collect no personal information. Would you prefer a randomly generated username for communication purposes? We have..." He paused, and his pupils dilated briefly before constricting to normal size. "...BlossomingFlower2783 available."

They knew her name. This was bad. Was this bad? The rental agreement was under an alias. According to this guy, her personal information wouldn't be retained. Not to mention, companies were prohibited from sharing confidential data except under the most extreme circumstances. Odds were in Norma's favor it was safe to proceed.

"Thank you, but Reyes is fine." She swallowed.

"Excellent choice, Ms. Reyes."

As his pupils returned to regular size, Norma realized she was talking to a droid. "Dios mio," she whispered. Correction, a bio-AI. Circling him, she marveled at the convincing texture pack. A medium height, Norwegian-source male in his late thirties. The bland smile he wore as she studied him evidenced his awareness her reaction was both a social faux pas and to be expected.

Nils—his nametag read—waited patiently for Norma to face him again. She fluffed her hair and drew a breath, squaring her shoulders. Well, Chaz wasn't wrong. She was amazed.

"I'm here to see The Maker." She cleared her throat.

"He's expecting you. Come with me," said Nils.

Her eyebrows bunched together. Things were deteriorating. If The Maker was expecting the Norma Reyes, that meant Chaz's story about a Midwest cousin on vacation was down the drain. She smoothed a hand over her dress as her eyes skated to the exit. She could leave now, and any future official investigation (heaven forbid) would end right here at the lobby.

Or she could meet The Maker and buy his illustrious silence.

How much would it cost? She tripled the initial sum that came to mind. Anyone working this fly-by-night brothel could glut the tabloids with news she had been here and bankroll her shame, instead. Her competitors would sniff out her reason for coming. Some other company might risk developing the bio-AI ahead of her. She quadrupled the sum.

Norma followed Nils down an arabesque corridor to the open door of an office that seemed better suited for the glass skyscrapers of New Silicon. The space was earthy and sophisticated. The soothing lobby music dissipated at this point. She noticed there was no activity ahead, either. Everything hedonistic probably took place in the satellite yurts.