The RV is so great that everyone wonders why Chino crashed the last one. Efforts are made to extract promises from the ork not to crash this one at all costs. Chino reluctantly agrees, complaining,
"You guys are handcuffing me! I'm an artist! I gotta fly!" The Prometheus does not have the traditional set-up of steering wheel, gas pedal, and gearshift. Instead, its control panels are more like those on a jet plane: all buttons, switches, and digital readouts, with a joystick for steering. Chino rubs his hands together until the collective weight of opinion reminds him that this is an RV, not a high-performance race car, and that the road conditions are still icy and treacherous.
Once everyone is back in the RV and appropriately showered, changed, and fed, Chino pulls out of the parking lot.
"Where to, chummers?""It might be wise to stay in Grand Junction for the call with Cannon," Doc suggests.
"In the off-chance they trace us, we don't to be stuck on a highway with no towns for 50 klicks in any direction. We'd be sitting ducks. If they ping us in Grand Junction, they won't know which direction we're going. That's the beauty of a crossroads: could be north, northeast, southeast, west, southwest. If anything, it will look like we're moving further west away from the AF's dig site near Denver.""It's just after lunch," Ohanzee notes.
"Let's give Cannon until after dinner. That should give him enough time to due some due diligence, maybe start moving money between accounts. Offer expires 12am Eastern."The group agrees and sends word to Sam and Katsina that they won't be back until late tonight.
"Ready?" Doc asks everyone prior to sending Ohanzee's message with the agreed-upon time tables.
"Bomb's away."There's an invisible mental flick and the message is sent. A moment passes, everyone holding their breath like there might be an immediate response. There isn't.
"Time to kill some time," Chino says.
"To the Funplex!"Who knows how Chino finds these places. Maybe he's doing Matrix research without telling anyone, or maybe the clown at Dominion's clued him in. Either way, you soon find yourselves at a large entertainment complex whose target demographic is children under the age of 13 and orks with CFD. There are several outdoor attractions that are closed for the winter - like bumper boats, some waterslides, and a go-kart track - but there are still extensive indoor options inside a large hangar-like facility. Inside there is a mini-golf course, batting cages, bowling, a river mining exhibit (a nod to the local industry), a laser maze, an arcade with AR and VR games, and a cafe.
Being a weekday afternoon during the school year, the complex is largely vacant. Chino has the run of the place while Doc, Ace, and Ohanzee try not to look like perverts or molesters. (Especially Ohanzee, with his high-collar floor-length coat with back shoulder flaring and flowing-but-layered lower half.) The good news is that you don't even need to broadcast a SIN; you pay, you play. And play Chino does.
"Hey! Hey Ace! Remember when we played baseball with the snowballs! Let's hit the batting cages!" Chino rushes out and pushes over the pitching machine, taking its place, beckoning Ace to come try his luck against a real pitcher. Doc and Ohanzee don't get the same invitation, even though Doc thinks he could get a pretty good swing going with his cyberarm.
The afternoon passes into evening which passes into night. Dinner is soy pizza and sandwiches. Chino goes a bit nuts with dessert, ordering churros, cotton candy, and funnel cake fries. If the Atlanteans don't kill you, the cholesterol might. However, the constant spending (and tipping) keeps the staff from looking at you too suspiciously. Chino plays the roll of an arrested development adult exceptionally well, which provides you all the cover you need.
The staff reluctantly kicks you out at closing.
"C'mon, Chino," Doc says.
"Time for business."Back in the RV, Doc connects the satellite uplink and confirms the signal. After slaving everything to his PAN, he gives Ohanzee the thumbs up. Chino drives in circles around Grand Junction while Ace keeps a lookout for more attack helicopters full of Knight-Errant HTR teams. Ohazee slips on his trodes; Doc presses a button the cyberdeck installed in his arm and they're off.
The host for the Thomas Jefferson Building of the Library of Congress has been styled to look like the building itself. The Beaux-Arts architecture is theatrical, heavily ornamented, and kinetic: a style perfectly suited to a young, wealthy, and imperialistic nation in its Gilded Age. The contrast to the Funplex is extreme and jarring. The interior of the host is elaborately decorated. Doc slips into his bodyguard roll while Ohanzee takes point as they stride through the
Great Hall. The host is incredibly
life-like. Ohanzee notes the click of the marble underneath his feet and how it echos off the vaulted chambers above him.
The space is largely empty at this hour. En route to the assigned meeting place, Doc spies a solitary figure considering the murals. Doc takes a closer look and concludes that the persona has absolutely been modeled on Cannon, who appears to be wearing a tuxedo. Approaching from behind, Doc and Ohanzee can peer over his shoulder to see what he is studying. It is a mural entitled
Religion. A young man and a young woman kneel in front of a small obelisk with a pyre on top. Their eyes are downcast and the young man shields his eyes while the woman - more of a girl, really - presents herself with eyes down and arms spread.
"Gentelmen," Cannon says so softly that the sound doesn't echo. He appears to be alone.
"Shall we?" He graciously raises his hand to invite you into a private meeting node.
Studying the persona, Doc thinks that Cannon might have take a few liberties with real life. He appears taller digitally - almost 2 meters - than he did in the photos you saw of him. He's missing some of the extra skin around his chin and neck that age and exercise are not staving off in meat world. His tuxedo fits him almost impossibly well and his beard has been trimmed to a perfectly uniform length.
The meeting node is smaller than the one you had for Jäger. It has been styled as a miniature library not unlike the one that was in the safehouse: walls lined with books, a fireplace, and four leather wingback chairs arranged in a square. It is decidedly more intimate that the conference room you had with Jäger. It also evokes images of backroom deals among power brokers. As if to complete the impression, Cannon produces a cigar and lights it with an ember from the fireplace.
"May I offer you one?" he says, his voice only slightly louder than it was out in the Hall. He seems to adopting a speak-softly posture for the proceedings.
"I suspect you won't accept, but I feel obliged to offer anyway."Once the trio has been seated, Cannon crosses his legs and opens the conversation.
"You must be Hanz," he says to Ohanzee.
"You match the description provided by my esteemed colleague whom you met on Sunday. It's been two days since then. I must admit I felt neglected." He smiles slightly; it's unclear if this is true or a small jest.
"Two days. Just like the games we play with dating. Don't call for two days. Don't express too much interest. Build the anticipation. Keep your cards to you chest; never let them know what you're feeling." He smiles wistfully again, as if the parallels have struck too close to home.
"Well, here we are. You asked me out. You may take my presence as interest. However, I fear I must disappoint you if you have come to me seeking the same sum you asked of Ms. Jäger. I do not have it any more than she did. In fact, I am under many of the same administrative constraints that she is. One million nuyen is the most either of us can authorize on our own without approval of our respective boards.
"But perhaps you have invited me here because you have reconsidered your asking price. If so, I am amenable. In fact, Ms. Jäger and I have discussed the matter at length. We have agreed to make a joint bid. Upon confirmation that the artifact is indeed genuine, we can offer you and your associates two million nuyen: I will authorize one million from the ASPS, she will authorize the other million from the DIMR. A fine windfall, and a fair price. I trust that will be agreeable."Cannon pauses to puff his cigar while he studies Hanz. He awaits the dwarf's response.
Edit: grammar