Jam Pony – December 10, early morning
“Let’s
go, people! It’s two weeks before Christmas and just like Santa,
we’ve got packages up the wazoo!” Normal’s voice cut through the early morning chatter at Jam
Pony as Original Cindy, at her locker, impatiently scanned the crowd
of messengers. Just as she was about to head for her bike, Max finally
appeared, slipping up to her own locker almost as if by magic.
“Hey,
sugah, where you been all night?” Original Cindy asked.
Then, seeing the faraway look on Max’s face, she added slyly, “Couldn’t
tear yourself away from Hot Boy?”
Max
pulled on her gloves, shrugging. “Nah.
Just out and about, you know, riding my bike. Went
up to the Needle. No big deal.” She slammed her locker
shut. “We better go. Normal’s not exactly in the Christmas spirit this morning.”
“Hold
up.” Original Cindy took Max’s chin in her hand and gently
turned her face toward the light. “You still
lookin’ a little pale. You check with that doctor like we
talked about?”
“Well–”
Max glanced over her shoulder, took a deep breath, and was about
to speak when Julie, a new messenger, cut in between them.
“If
you two are gonna make out, could you at least wait till you get
out on a run?” Julie demanded rudely. Max’s eyes narrowed.
“What’s
the matter? Jealous?” Max shot back, throwing her arm around Cindy’s
shoulder.
Julie
curled her lip in disgust and stalked away. Original Cindy rolled
her eyes. “Now what was you sayin‘,
boo?”
“Well,
yesterday I–”
“Hey,
ladies.” Sketchy
sidled up to Max, eyes on Julie, who was climbing onto her bike.
“Listen, think you could, ah, use
your influence with our new colleague? She’s a fine–what?”
he asked in confusion as Max and Original Cindy started to laugh.
“Nothing. Sure thing, Sketch,” Max agreed.
“Thanks.
I appreciate any assistance–hey, on second thought, maybe you could
hold off on that�” Sketchy’s voice trailed off as a very attractive
redheaded girl appeared in the doorway. Normal was nowhere in sight,
but the girl spoke to one or two messengers, who pointed in the
direction of Max, Sketchy, and Original Cindy.
Sketchy
raised an eyebrow, suavely. The girl smiled back. Sketchy gazed
at the girl as she walked toward them, Max and Original Cindy forgotten.
“So
like I was saying,” Max began for the third time, turning back
to her friend.
“Excuse
me,” came the girl’s voice, clear and pleasant. “I’m looking
for a Max Guevara?” Max stopped speaking.
“This
is Max Guevara right here,” Sketchy said helpfully.
“Are
you really Max Guevara, the transgenic freedom fighter?” the
girl asked Max, seemingly awestruck. “Wow, you look just like
your pictures on the news. I watched every minute of the coverage.
I think you’re the coolest, and you’re so beautiful–“
Across
the room, Normal emerged from his office. Instantly a look of horror
swept over his face. “You! Idiot!
Yeah, you!” he shouted as Sketchy glanced up. Normal broke
into a run. “Who let her in here? Get her out of here right
this minute–”
Sketchy
froze.
“What
do you want from me?” Max asked the girl, immediately suspicious.
“Are
you Max Guevara?” she asked sweetly.
“Yeah–“
“Then
here.” The girl’s
voice was suddenly brisk and businesslike. She slapped a manila
envelope into Max’s hand and walked away just as Normal reached them, shirttail
out and headphones askew.
“Awww!”
he shouted in frustration, turning on Max. “I’d expect as much
from the moron here, but you? I thought you were a genetically superior,
highly trained soldier! How could you fall for that?”
“Fall
for what?” asked Max, opening the envelope.
“That
was a process server! She just slapped you with papers for a lawsuit!”
“How
you figure that?” Original Cindy asked skeptically.
“Because,
missy, she’s been here before. You people don’t seem to realize
that when a bike messenger knocks down a pedestrian or runs into
somebody’s nice shiny car, I get the heat.” Normal turned to
Max. “What did you do? Take more hostages? Fly through a customer’s
window on a hoverdrone?”
Max
slid the papers out of the envelope and studied them thoughtfully.
“Says here–“
“Give
me those.” Normal snatched the papers from her hand and scanned
them. “Max Guevara�Healthcorp�good.
Don’t see the name Jam Pony anywhere in here.” He thrust the
papers back at Max. “You’re on your own, missy. And don’t expect
time off to deal with your legal issues,” he called over his
shoulder as he walked away. Shrugging, Sketchy followed him.
Max
and Original Cindy looked at each other. “I’ll deal with this
later,” Max said, opening her locker and stuffing the envelope
inside.
“No,
you deal with it now. Call Logan.” Original Cindy pulled the envelope out of the locker
and held it up in front of Max.
“I
thought we were talking,” Max objected, refusing to take it.
“We
will. We’ll talk tonight,” Original Cindy promised. “But
right now you got bigger fish to fry.” She nodded towards the
front desk, where Normal was engaged in a heated argument with a
customer, pacing furiously and shouting into his headset. “Slip
in there now and you could fax those papers over to Logan. Normal didn’t say nothin‘
about dealin‘ with your legal issues on
Jam Pony time, now did he?”
“You’re
right. He didn’t,” Max agreed, taking the envelope from Original
Cindy’s hand and hiding it under her jacket.
Logan’s Apartment
As
the sheets of paper rolled out of the fax machine, Logan scanned
them quickly, the phone cradled on his shoulder.
“So
what do you think?” Max, hiding out in Normal’s office, sounded a little anxious.
“I
think you need a lawyer, Max. Let me call Marianne right away. And
I can start looking into it myself. I’ll have her call you, okay?”
“Yeah,
okay,” Max sighed. “Gotta run, here comes Normal–“
“I
have to go, I’ve got another call–” Logan said at the same
time.
As
Max hung up Logan switched to the other line. “Yeah?”
Across
town, at Joshua’s place, Alec paced impatiently by the window. “Hey,
Logan! It’s Alec,” he announced enthusiastically. “I’m
over here picking up Gem for work and I thought I’d just get a jump
on the day, you know, see if there’s anything
you need us for.”
There
was silence.
“Am
I, uh, calling at a bad time?” Alec asked.
Logan,
distracted by the documents Max had just sent him, looked up. “What?
No. In fact, I think you’re calling at a very good time.” Logan
set the papers aside and opened a file on the computer. Listen,
I got the results on that juice you gave Max a couple of weeks ago.”
“And?”
“Turns
out the ‘juice’ contained components not found in ordinary humans.
It’s in a highly active state, which could cause greater immunity
to illness and enhanced bodily functions, which would explain Sketchy’s
increased physical ability.”
“Which didn’t last.“
“That
doesn’t surprise me. Any guesses at the source?”
Alec
stopped pacing. His face was serious as he answered Logan. “Why
do I think I already know the answer to this?”
“Bingo.
Transgenic blood. It was processed for
administration. Now here’s the problem: if it’s not administered
correctly, and if it’s overused, it can cause organ failure.”
Alec’s
brows met in consternation. “In other words, if non-transgenics
take it in large amounts, they die and it’s on us, right?”
Logan nodded grimly. “You got it.”
Alex
rubbed his forehead as if it ached. “Well, that pretty much puts us back in the cage.”
“And,
since specialized equipment is needed for this kind of sophisticated
blood processing, I searched for transfers of medical equipment
in the last two months. There are four facilities that received
deliveries, scattered throughout the city.”
“Which
I’m sure you’ve already started to investigate.”
“No,
as a matter of fact, I haven’t.” Logan looked back down at
the faxed legal documents. “Something else has come up, something
that can’t wait. I was thinking maybe you and Gem could check out
these places, see what turns up.”
“Yeah. Yeah, sure, we’ll start today.”
“Thanks,”
Logan said.
“Thank
you,” Alec replied.
“For
what?”
“For
throwing some work our way. And�you know, for staying on top of
this transgenic stuff. Most ordinaries wouldn’t bother.”
“Most
ordinaries don’t have transgenic girlfriends,” Logan grinned.
“Their
loss. Anyway,
later. Take care of that transgenic girlfriend of yours.”
“I
try,” Logan sighed. “You know how she is.”
“I
do, but I think you can handle it.” Alec snapped his phone
closed as Logan hung up.
At
Joshua’s, Gem appeared in the doorway, carrying Elfie. “Gem,
we gotta leave,” Alec shouted as he put the phone in his jacket.
Joshua
immediately walked into the room. “You said you’d take me to
the market.”
“I
know, Joshua, but I gotta run. We’ve got a transgenic situation.”
“This
is a transgenic situation,” Joshua objected.
Alec
shook his head as Gem handed Joshua the baby. “Look, buddy,
Gem and I have some really urgent work to do. It can’t wait.”
Joshua
frowned. “The market is urgent, too.”
“Not
like this!” Alec snapped as he opened the door. Then, regretting
his sharp tone, he relented. “Look, buddy, I really gotta run.
We’ll get your stuff. I promise. Just not now.”
He stepped outside the door, followed by Gem.
Joshua,
holding the baby, stared after them as they rode away on Alec’s
motorcycle. “Maybe Joshua needs some urgent work to do, too,”
he told Elfie thoughtfully as he took her back inside the house.
A sector checkpoint
Max
was stuck in a traffic jam at a sector checkpoint, bored and impatient,
when her cell phone rang. She frowned at the display, then shrugged
and answered anyway.
“Hey,
Marianne,” she said, pleased, when a familiar voice answered.
“Hi,
Max. Logan faxed me the papers and I’ve got news for you. Can we meet?”
“I’m
out on a run. Why don’t I swing by your office?”
“No,
I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Marianne responded hesitantly. “Could we meet someplace private? Logan‘s,
maybe?”
“I
don’t want to bother him. Would you, um, mind coming by my place?”
“Sure.
What’s the address?”
“339
Waverly.” Hanging up, Max scowled at the phone. “Let’s see what
you think of me when I’m not in a mansion or a penthouse,”
she told the receiver. Then she hopped on her bike and went back
to the checkpoint line.
Max and OC’s place, an hour later
Max
was sitting on the couch, unwrapping a burger and fries, when Marianne
arrived wearing a black suit, diamond earrings, and heels. Max watched
her size up the place quickly–the worn-out furniture, the hot plate,
the candles, the Ninja–and waited. Marianne dropped her briefcase
on the couch and hugged Max. After a moment Max relaxed a little,
not returning the hug, but not pulling away from Marianne either.
“It’s
good to see you,” Marianne said. “I just wish I had better
news.”
“Sit
down,” Max invited, pulling up a battered wooden chair. She
held out the container of fries. “Want some?”
“No
thanks.” Marianne watched as Max took a huge bite of the burger,
followed by several fries. “You must work up quite an appetite
riding all over the city.”
“Mmmm,” Max agreed through a mouthful of food. The food
tasted wonderful to her and somehow she couldn’t eat quickly enough.
“So what’s up? Why couldn’t we meet at your office? My Jam
Pony cap violates the law firm dress code?”
“Well,
it does, but that’s not the problem. The problem is that Healthcorp,
which served you with the papers for the lawsuit, is located in
our building just two floors below the firm. You’re famous, Max,
and easy to recognize. I’d rather keep you off the radar just now.”
“What
does Healthcorp want with me anyway?”
“Right
now, they want you to be a witness. You’re required to appear in
court to give a deposition, although you are not the defendant.”
Max
took another huge bite of burger. “Then who is?”
“The
Max
laughed. “You’re kidding. You don’t think someone who’s suing
the
“Max,
I am taking this seriously. Because apparently, back in the 90’s,
Healthcorp invested a good deal of money in a biotechnology
startup known as Manticore.”
Max’s
smile vanished. Slowly, she set her burger down. “Go on.”
“Their
claim is that in exchange for venture capital, they were granted
a patent on the DNA that was produced by Manticore.”
“What
does that mean?”
“It
means they are arguing that when the military took over Manticore,
it did so illegally. That all products of the experimentation at
Manticore rightfully belong to the patent owners and not the
“You
mean these guys are claiming they own me? Alec? Joshua? All of us?”
“Something
like that, yes.”
“What’s
in it for them?”
“Do
you really have to ask? Can you imagine the profits they could make
from treatments derived from transgenic blood alone?” Marianne
reached for some papers in her briefcase. “I also found out
that they are searching for the founding partners of Manticore.
One of them died in 2011. The other is called Sandeman, also known
as Richard Sanderson.” Seeing the look of alarm on Max’s face,
she asked, “Does that name mean something to you?”
Max
shrugged, her expression guarded. “I heard it once in a while
around Manticore when I was a kid.”
“Well,
everyone’s looking for him. Since he made the original business
deal with Healthcorp, he could very well be the key to this whole mess.
Think Logan might be able to get any useful information
out of some of his journalistic sources?”
“We
can try.”
“Good.
That would be a big help.” Marianne returned the papers to
her briefcase and stood up. “I have to get back to the office,
Max, but we’ll stay in touch. We’re due in court for your deposition
in less than a month, right after the holiday break. We’ll have
to work fast.”
“That’s
me, faster than the eye can see.”
“We’re
still on for dinner with you and Logan on Wednesday, aren’t we?
We can catch up then. We’ll kick the boys out of the kitchen and
mix a little business with pleasure.” Marianne grinned at Max.
“Deal?”
“Sure.
Unless I get impounded as evidence first.”
Marianne’s
smile vanished. “Max, be careful. These guys–“
“You
don’t have to tell me how rough it can get when the big boys come
out to play,” Max reassured her. “Thanks. I really appreciate
this. See you Wednesday?”
“Sure
thing,” agreed Marianne.
Max
locked the door behind her, then flopped
down on the couch, pushing the burger away. The sight of it made
her nauseated. She put both hands over her stomach and looked down
at them. “Welcome to this crazy-ass world,” she said with
a sigh.
End
of Act I
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