Page 36 of Scion

“It’s not much of a life though.”

“Yeah. I’m sure they haven’t given that nuance a thought at all.”

Jasa’s mouth twists, dissatisfied. But she doesn’t keep arguing.

Despite my words, I eye the giggling passersby uncomfortably. The advent of Q-net increased the ease and speed of drug development exponentially; along with long-awaited cures and stitch-sprays came Lullaby and Glow and Trainripper. Drugs that provide various tailored highs, just below the official brain chemistry alteration threshold of addictive substances. Impossible to OD on. Cheaply, safely made.

Nostrums, they’re called now. Eleven of the twelve megacities—the hardliners in Cronus the only holdouts—had DeGov proposals to make them legal within a few months of their appearance.

Every single one passed in a landslide.

The deep thumping of Sanctum’s generously labelled-as-music sound has been getting louder as we’ve talked, and de Alwes cocks her head to the side, finally noticing it. “What’s that?”

“That’s where we’re going.” We turn the final corner, and I gesture up ahead.

Sanctum is the centre of the Bash, both physically and metaphorically. At the end of the dead-end street, its name is spelt out on a glowing holo billboard that seems to drip blue neon from the letters onto a burning puddle below. People dance beneath the sign, laughing and skittering away whenever a shimmering drop lands near them.

“Doesn’t look much like a safe house, dear.” She examines the crowd out front. “Perhaps the opposite?”

I ignore her griping, guiding her around the throng and through the entryway. We’re scanned as soon as we enter; digiglass to the side shifts and two lots of the conditions of entry flick up.

“Just sign it,” I tell de Alwes, doing as I say with my own.

She scans the disclaimer, eyes widening in disgust. “No?”

“They can’t let you in if you don’t.”

She still hesitates, and it’s hard to blame her. But eventually her shoulders sag a little and she marks her acceptance. The doors hiss open, releasing a near-overwhelming blast of music at us.

We enter a long hallway, clearly a security corridor, even if it’s somewhat disguised by the strobes that urge us onward. The first station is a simple scanner, lights snapping to form a box around us in pulsing red lines. I drop my Ceramic into the receptacle that whirs open from the wall—it’s going to get detected anyway—and then spread my arms wide and turn in a circle. Jasa does the same, then impatiently starts forward.

I grab her arm, dragging her forcibly to a halt. The box turns green. I let go.

“What happens if we don’t wait for green?” she yells over the pounding music as we move on.

“You remember the plasma incinerator?” I shout back.

She lets me take the lead.

The next red box appears around us, and a DNA sampler appears in the wall. We’re still comfortably within the window before the wash wears off, so we’re successfully verified. Another private-public scan, but again, Atti’s resources aren’t unlimited. There’s no way the Keres will have her double handling DNA-verified face recogs.

After that, we pass through an EMP screen—no visual indication, but I know from experience it’s there—which hopefully won’t be strong enough to permanently disrupt the nanobots circulating our systems. And then, as we head toward the end of the hall, another red box brings us to a halt, a side door slides open, and the bio slithers into our path.

It fills the space. Eight foot tall, six spiderlike legs but with four smooth white tentacles for arms. A dozen reptilian eyes flicker over us.

I half expect Jasa to shriek—most people do, first time, me included—but she perhaps predictably disappoints me, just squinting through the flashing lights with an intrigued expression.

“How can we help you?” she shouts at it politely.

The creature assesses her silently.

“Oh, for…” I push past her, hold out my arms and spread my legs. The bio wriggles forward and then tentacles are patting me down, sliding over my face and hair, a snuffling from some of them as they make use of their olfactory apertures at their ends.

“What’s it checking for?” yells Jasa, mildly discomforted as it finishes with me and moves on to her.

“Subdermal weapons. Blades in the skin. Nostrum tweaks hidden in false teeth. You get the drift.”

“Lovely.” She shudders slightly as the creature finishes its search and slides away.