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Chapter 5 - Five W's and an H

In case you haven't figured out that cryptic chapter title, those stand for 'Who, What, Why, Where, When and How.' Get answers to all six, and if they don't get you your suspect, you're one sorry-ass excuse for a detective. I'm good at finding info and making connections, so I'm headed to the 24/7 Chicago Public Library and Zippy Mart.

You're probably wondering why I'd go to a Public Library instead of accessing the information on my cranial chip implant like everyone else. For one thing, it's quiet. For another, a good part of it is off the grid. It's the part that Les' forefathers built. Not many folks know about it.

Part of the old State Street building was destroyed in the Ka-Boom, but a good bit of it survived, as did some of the underground subway tunnels of the old L train line. It's a hackers' hideaway of last resort. You can access it through a broom closet in the Library's basement. Or the drain in the Zippy Mart's bathroom.

Until I get some new wheels, I'm stuck using jet-taxis or hover-buses. I'm not fond of flying, ever since that crash landing I was in while on a trip to Mars Colony Gamma when I was a kid. The injury still hurts when I run. Not that I was gunning for a career as a psychoballer, but still - it's literally a pain in my ass.

As soon as I step off the bus, a laser blast grazes my left shoulder and hits the closing bus doors. The bus doesn't offer me any escape – instead, it takes off at full speed. I take cover behind the hover-bus bench. Another blast takes out the bench.

I slide into the doorway of a now-closed bar, once called The Drunken Bookworm.' I reach inside my trench coat and find my finger-crossbow. It's small, undetectable by any techno-scan, and fires needle-thin shafts that carry a powerful sedative. I look across the street, and see a familiar silhouette in a window, the Tiffany glass lampshade casting colorful shadows on the Holo-helmet that's sitting on top of a massive grey afro.

Just as I see her hologram appear in front of me, I fire the bow and the arrow hits home, only to break the glass in her window. The hologram disappears, and old Holly Graham cackles, opens her window, and flings my tiny bolt down on the street. Her CD-sized hoops dangle from her overstretched earlobes.

"Almost gotcha, I did! Hee-hee! Yer gittin' slow, ya old gumshoe!" We both had a good laugh at that one. Truth is, Holly was one of my teachers at the Peacekeeper Academy. No one could outshoot Holly. They don't make 'em like her anymore. We go through this exercise every time I visit the Library. It's fun for both of us, and usually lasts all of 3 minutes.

"Say, Old Lady! What do you think of Zack Murkerberg?"

"Who you callin' a Lady?" she grumbles. "Murkerberg? You mean that greedy SOB with all the clones? He's weird. An' cause they's all clones, they's all weird. He zoomed the Academy once – wanted to know iffen we were ready to find new jobs, since weapons were just banned. We all jus' laughed. Someone asked him how he felt about the guys at New Start Tech buildin' a new, completely free Multiverse."

This was nothing I'd heard, seen or read about anywhere. "How'd he react, Holly?"

"His face got even paler than it already was and ended the call. If I didn' know better, I'd say Lt. Tim spooked him."

Add another thing to research, and more suspects to the list, Danny boy. I waved goodbye to Holly, and entered the Zippy Mart. There was a purple-haired girl behind the counter, with hot pink lipstick and adorned with metal rings on her nose, ears, eyebrows, and lip. Her black leather studded camisole was mostly hidden under her work apron, to which she'd sewn bits of torn leather around the Zippy Mart logo.

"How's it going, Sunny?" I asked. I spotted a lone package of Martian Mutant Mix. They're made from nuts and grains developed to grow on Titan. They look weird, but they taste incredible. I placed it on the counter with a can of Radio-Active Root Beer. "How's Virtual U?"