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  'It can't be your first,' said Tomoko.

  'My first with you.' She looked around, at the men drinking beer and chatting noisily, the girls chasing each other in circles, a waiter filling bottles with soy sauce. The man came over with a tiny dish of sliced peppers, chopsticks and napkins, and asked what they'd like to drink. Teja gazed at Tomoko, her eyes almost as dark as the blacks of her pupils. 'I'd like a beer,' she said.

  The man looked up. There seemed to be some commotion coming from the other table. A man had his arm raised, making a circling motion to his colleagues. Teja thought he was ordering another round of drinks, though from the words exchanged with the waiter, he was including Tomoko and herself. He told the waiter to put everything on his bill.

  'Why is he paying for us?' Teja leaned closer to Tomoko, afraid the men might hear.

  'He knows who I am.' Tomoko raised her hand to him.

  The beer arrived, one large bottle and two glasses.

  'Triad,' said Tomoko, 'though I don't know which gang. At least we ran into the right sort.'

  'What about the wrong sort?'

  Tomoko raised her top slightly.

  'Don't you go anywhere without a gun?' asked Teja.

  The beer was cold and refreshing, somehow quenching her thirst more than iced water.

  Tomoko placed a chilli slice on the tip of her tongue. 'I know right from wrong. You've got potential, Teja, you just don't know it yet.'

  'What do you mean?'

  'You're a Class C simulant, military model.'

  'I'm not a military model.'

  'Of course you are, all Class C simulants are military models.'

  'Made to high specifications and with certain abilities, but I don't have those. They designed the Class C types for combat and technical purposes. I'd still need all the training and the enhancements.'

  Tomoko said, 'Do you ever listen to yourself talk? If you're going to get close to Fernandez you're going to have to loosen up.'

  'Loosen up?'

  'Start thinking like a woman and not a simulant.'

  Teja reached for her beer. 'I can't change what I am, Tomoko. The way I speak has nothing to do with being a simulant.'

  'I know that. But you can do things humans can't. You can listen and adapt pretty fast, get yourself a new way of thinking.'

  'I'm not used to changing who I am. I had a routine job and a routine life, there was never any reason to change.'

  'But you can if you want to.'

  Overhead, the fans continued to spin, cooling this quiet corner of the mall like they had for decades. Tomoko placed the cell phone on the table and they listened to the Celebwatch reports coming over the tiny speaker. Celebrity cooks, news readers, game show hosts who seemed to be permanently on TV. Tomoko said the planet was sinking into mediocrity because anybody with any talent had already shipped out.

  The food arrived twenty minutes later on a metal plate. Chunks of crab meat encased in fractured shell, covered in a dark, sweet sauce.

  Tomoko explained what she had to do over the course of the meal. All she had to do was get close to Fernandez and go with him no matter where he went. Tomoko would follow and when an opportunity presented itself she would join her. Use your abilities to your best advantage, Tomoko said.

  Teja was wondering what her abilities were as they walked back to the hotel, knowing where Fernandez was from a news report on the restaurant's TV. There was a leaving party for the artist at one of KL's exclusive nightclubs.

  It was almost dusk when they'd left the hotel and now night had fallen completely. They ran across the road, finding a gap between a truck and a boy buzzing along on a scooter.

  When they arrived back at the room, they wasted no time. Before Teja had finished changing her clothes, Tomoko had ordered an autocab. Teja used the mirror in the elevator to apply make-up.

  Teja watched Tomoko from the autocab for as long as she could, then it pulled into traffic and Tomoko vanished into the night.

  21

  Dim Sim

  Photographers and media geeks tried to get the attention of the celebrities making their way into the Subtropic Club. A woman stepped out of a stretched limousine, legs appearing first. Camera flashes lit up the night.

  There was a crowd of perhaps six-hundred people, pushing and jostling to get a glance of whoever it was they'd come to see. Teja had forced her way to the front, to the barrier and the guards wearing black suits and black ties. She tried to listen to what the men and women at the other side of the barrier were saying, though she only caught parts of conversations over the noise.

  She could see no way to the main entrance of the club, except perhaps if she pulled up in one of those cars. And then she would need an invite to show the security.

  Teja wandered down the street, to the furthest edges of the building. It was quiet here, dark, black bags piled up over two abandoned cars. Shops and stalls were closed, shutters and metal railings padlocked. She faced the building opposite the club, its walls surrounded by scaffolding. She thought if she could get up enough speed she'd be able to jump from the highest platform and land on the narrow balcony with the broken window. She would need to find a way in.

  Rotten plywood panels covering a doorway peeled away easily. She squeezed through a narrow gap, pulling the boarding back in place behind her. The smells of chemicals and oil inside. She moved cautiously, edging through the darkness. A passageway opened into what might have been a reception area. Glass and debris crunched under her shoes. She saw a stairway going up.

  She reached the fourth floor and moved off the stairwell, through a doorway and into a large open room. She saw the windows, a pale orange glow at the bottom from the lights on the street. Something scurried over her foot. And then she stopped, listening and staring into the darkness. Maybe twenty feet away, a black shape lifted itself from the floor. Other shapes appeared from behind broken furniture and dark alcoves. Just mechs, she told herself.

  A squat mech on wheels rolled toward her, silver liquid in a tank riding on its back. Other machines appeared, some on wheels, others on legs that old servos could barely operate. They were broken, obsolete, machines abandoned by their masters and now hiding in this decaying building. Teja saw two more appearing out of the darkness, domestic maintenance models.

  She continued to the windows, peering down onto the street through the dirty glass before searching for a latch or opening mechanism. She climbed onto the scaffolding and bent down, squatting with her face only inches from the glow of an automech's photoceptor. The iris in the eye narrowed.

  The planks under her feet creaked and flexed. There were no handrails or kickboards, maybe because there had been plans to renovate the building decades ago. She moved close to the edge, looking across at the nightclub building, the window she needed to aim for.

  She backed up as far as she could and ran parallel to the wall, picking up speed before the arch of her foot jammed into the edge of the planking, and then she was in the air, the wind filling out the jacket under her arms. She hit the balcony and grabbed hold of the railing. She heard the noise of her left shoe land on the pavement below. She looked down, slipping off the other shoe before swinging her legs over the railing and bending down to the window.

  She couldn't see much through the small, broken pane, but she could tell that it led into an empty room. She was about to brace herself between the rail and the window, use her feet to force the window open, when she noticed the steel frame was slightly ajar.

  She pushed it open and crawled inside. It seemed to be a storeroom. Light came through a panel above the door, allowing her to make out cleaning equipment. She could feel the thump of the club's sound system through the floor, tickling the soles of her bare feet.

  Wide, arched portals led into rooms, furnished with huge cushions and low glass tables, dimly lit by virtual pictures and projected holographs.

  There was an open space at the end of the corridor, men and women dancing and talking. She glimpsed a securi
ty guard watching her, maybe wondering who she was.

  She moved quickly down a spiral staircase to the level below, then slipped into a writhing mass of dancers when the guard appeared at the balustrade. He must have realised she didn't belong here. She opened her mind, allowing herself to be carried along on a wave of noise and images. She watched how they moved, how they spoke, remembered the tiny nuances of speech and motion. The dancers moved around her, arms and hips brushing against her.

  She was learning, adapting, taking in everything she would need to become one of them, to speak the way they did, to move her body suggestively to a fast, pumping rhythm. She didn't think about the images and sounds, she just accepted them.

  She closed her eyes, and saw Tomoko on the hotel bed. She was on her side, hip sweeping up from her narrow waist, dark eyes gazing back into hers, just like they had when they ate the crab, fingers glistening with sticky sauce. She opened her eyes. She would have to leave now, quickly before the guard asked her questions she was unprepared to answer.

  Back at the cleaner's storeroom, she went onto the balcony, climbed over the rail and realised that jumping back wouldn't be easy. She could take only three steps along the outside edge of the balcony before she would fall off, though it was enough to allow her to land on the scaffolding two floors below. She climbed up to the floor where the mechs were hiding. The squat one with the glass cylinder on its back rolled up to her. She sat on the floor in front of it with her legs crossed.

  'Do you understand me?'

  The response flickered across the small display on the machine's bevelled head in green letters.

  'I need light.'

  A compartment opened at the top of the mech and a bar of light on a jointed arm illuminated the floor. She waved her finger for the mech to come closer. A design aid mech of a type she'd used before. She looked across the room, to the faint illumination coming from the other machines. She opened a panel on the machine's torso, started to pull out memory modules, unravelling cables and optical links. The machine seemed to wheeze, cooling fans stuttering on dry bearings.

  Another mech rolled over to watch. Teja reached out and caught the machine before it could back away, opening a panel to quickly break the power lead to its wheels. Paralysed now, the machine could only watch as she started to pull out circuit boards, inspecting them carefully before placing them with the others, or throwing them to one side.

  'What's the condition of your smart fluid?' The machine didn't display the answer. 'It's a chance to be useful again. You can help me.' The iris in the eye opened slightly, letters printed across the display. 'Good,' she said. 'Is your 76-90 port still working? Good. Find the video filmed outside the Subtropic Club for tonight, the women getting out of the cars and walking the red carpet. Search the women seen with Fernandez Martinez-Perez, video and photographs, and cross reference the clothes they were wearing.'

  She unbuttoned her jacket, then the blouse, unzipping her skirt at the side and letting it fall to her feet. When she was down to her bra and panties the mech hit her with its light. She continued to undress until she was naked.

  The machine made a crackling sound.

  'You're going to mould a smart fluid dress straight onto my body.' She turned with her back to the mech and bent over slightly, her legs apart. 'Make it tight and short. And make it metallic, like mercury. I want it to give a distorted reflection from any light sources.'

  She slid the reservoir of smart fluid from its holder on the machine's back and placed it on the floor between her legs, careful the wires trailing from it didn't become disconnected.

  She looked down between her legs when she heard the reservoir opening and touched her calf to the valve at the side. Her breath caught in her throat when the liquid shot out and wrapped itself around her leg, cold against her skin. It moved slowly, a thin line slithering up the inside of her thigh. She stood with her feet apart, raised on her toes, her hands behind her head as the liquid followed the contours of her leg, splitting at the top of her thigh, moving over the curve of her buttocks.

  She swayed her hips, getting accustomed to the feel of the smart fluid against her skin. It felt like a trickle of icy sweat running up her back, then pulling her breasts up slightly as it tightened against them.

  She took a breath, unsure of what she was feeling, but knowing that it felt good. Hands moved, exploring, sliding over her body, the smart fluid like a second skin, a tight metallic sheath, yet soft and pliable.

  Teja made the leap back to the nightclub faster and with more confidence than she had before. She listened with her ear close to the storeroom's door before going out into the corridor, looking about before running into the Women's restroom. There was a girl in here at one of the vanity mirrors, checking something on her face. A tiny skirt, gold top that looked like a spider's web, white hair shaped into a crown.

  Teja stood next to her, pretending to check her make-up. 'You ever feel that you're being watched?'

  'All the time,' the girl said. She opened her mouth as wide as she could. 'That's why you're here wearing that dress. So men can gawp at us.'

  The girl went into one of the cubicles. Teja set to work quickly, running a tap and washing her hands and face with the soap from a dispenser. She got her hands wet and slicked her hair back, taking it behind her ears so it curled a little around her jaw. She applied the girl's lipstick she'd left on the table, and just before she ran to the door she took the girl's shoes.

  Wearing those shoes must have made Teja five-inches taller. They pinched her toes, though nothing she couldn't handle. As she walked, getting used to the sensation of the heels, she changed her eye colour to green.

  Teja moved toward the pumping music, lips parted, eyes wide, hips swinging with clockwork perfection down the corridor.

  22

  Simulation

  'Hey, baby,' a guy said to her as she passed him.

  Teja thought to say, I don't see why you should call me 'baby'. But now she wasn't thinking, she was acting. Cruising through a room full of people on those heels and feeling confident.

  Men wanted to know her name, they wanted to look at her. It was a different feeling to meeting one of Mr. Tito's new clients and shaking hands. She didn't have to guess what these men were thinking, she knew. It was in the air like radar, thoughts straying to all kinds of possibilities as they watched her moving across the floor toward the bar. She never realised how much could be communicated with just a look.

  Stop thinking, she told herself, just ride it and see where you go. She watched the other women, dressed in a fashion like herself, not thinking, not wondering what was in the minds of these men, not even caring. They just moved around in their outfits with flesh on display, letting cleavage, ass, legs, hair, and eyes do all the talking. The bartender was looking right at her.

  She eased through the crowd, guys and skinny girls holding glasses, hips circling to the music, leaning into each other to be heard. She raised her hand for the waiter to meet her at the end of the bar. He was Chinese, but Teja knew he'd speak to her in English.

  He leaned over the bar, his face blue for a moment as a projected manta ray swam between them. 'Hey, gorgeous.'

  She rubbed her palm over the stubble on his cheek. 'You gonna get a girl a drink?'

  'You name it.'

  'Pocarri Dacks, and don't give me mineral ice cubes.' She straightened his bowtie. 'I want pure water ice cubes and fresh lemon, not that shit you sliced thirty minutes ago.'

  The drink was red, two slices of lemon floating on top. As she walked away she knew the waiter was watching her, and it occurred to her that she liked what he was thinking.

  She reached the floor below. Spotlights beamed down from the ceiling, swirling wide and then narrow across the walls and floor. Naked, projected men danced on rotating platforms. She moved through the gloom, feeling the heavy bass of the music in her chest. She took a drink of the Pocarri Dacks, liking it, dancing with a guy for a few seconds, writhing against his hands slid
ing over her hips.

  She moved down more steps, couples kissing everywhere. The nightclub changed again, more open now, the music behind her and up the stairs. There was a gallery here, pictures flat on the walls with little spotlights over them. She finished her drink and took a glass of champagne from a waiter's tray, taking a sip as she looked around. She would move slowly, gradually let the artist see her, sneak in and become part of the group no doubt surrounding him.

  'This looks interesting,' she said.

  The man who stood gazing at the photograph gestured to it with his glass. 'It says a lot about the frustration he was going through at the time.'

  'Really?' said Teja. 'Are you sure?' The man wore wire-frame glasses that seemed too small for his head. On the wall was a black-and-white photograph of a man clutching his penis like he was trying to throttle it.

  'You can see from his inability to cope with his third divorce. There is always purity even in his most controversial creations.'

  'It's so easy to get confused.' She took a drink of the champagne. 'Tell me more.'

  Teja walked with him to the next picture, a photograph of clouds that had been coloured with crayons, as if by a child. Teja listened to him talking about Fernandez, absorbing information. A guy shuffled next to her with a bandage around his head. She caught him looking over her body for a moment, aware how exposed she was here in the light. But she had a new confidence now, standing with one hand behind her back. She gave him a quick smile. He wiped his palm across his nose.

  'I love his new work,' said a woman with blue hair. She wore a rubber dress that squeaked when she moved.

  'Fuck're you talking about?' The guy with the bandages and the dark lines under his eyes nervously gulped pink liquid from a bottle. 'What's surprising is the little plaque that says this piece sold for fifty-six grand. You see that?' He pointed. 'I could do that standing on my head. Hell. I could take a wiz on a canvas 'n' you fuckers would buy it. I'd call it 'Takin' a Piss Number Three'.'