They went through a sort of tunnel that connected their plaza to another part of the station. That led to a sort of market square area, totally separate from the hyperloop platforms and the passengers waiting for their ride to arrive. There was a large gun store built into the wall, the windows of which were barred and covered in neon signs advertising various gun brands. Beth saw adverts for Smith and Wesson, Heckler, Colt, and even a couple brands she was unfamiliar with. The store appeared to sell both legal, industry-approved firearms and black market guns designed by engineers working against the law. The adverts showed a digital model of each weapon through Beth’s internal retina display when she focused on them. One looked like a miniature chaingun, reduced to the size of a small submachine gun. Another one looked like a sawed-off shotgun with three barrels.
They make some pretty scary weapons on the black market, Beth observed. I wouldn’t want to be on the wrong end of any of those monsters.
In front of the gun store, a medley of different food stands, trinket booths, and other wares were laid out for potential customers to peruse. Beth saw one lanky white kid trying on a kimono in front of one of the clothing stands. He admired his reflection, and Beth couldn’t help but smirk a little. The guy probably thought he was some bold samurai warrior, or maybe a guileful ninja. But he was just a kid.
“How much farther?” Beth asked her mechanical companion.
“Not too far,” the I.I. replied. “It’s just up this way.”
They walked past a trio of bodyshells, all looking around the crowd like they were searching for someone. They each had cheap models, with a single-lens head attached on a thin stalk of metal and rubber. They looked more like security cameras with thin, aluminum bodies. They were covered in various bumper stickers, which some I.I.s wore like a human does a tattoo. They were speaking in Mandarin, so Beth couldn’t understand them. They ignored the detective and her companion as they walked back to the stations.
“Here we are,” Simon said as they approached a nondescript pillar outside of an import store. Beth looked around, expecting to see something telltale to tip her off to the meeting place, but she didn’t see anything unlike the rest of the station. The pillar was a little dilapidated, perhaps, but so were at least half of the walls they passed. There was even one that crumbled out onto the walkway, exposing the water system behind it, and no one seemed concerned by it. However, Simon seemed certain that this was the spot.
There was no one there. Beth looked around at the faces nearest to her, looking for any expression of expectation.
“Where is she?” Beth asked.
“On her way, I imagine,” Simon replied. “She’s probably playing it safe and letting us show up first so she can scope us out. Make sure we aren’t anyone we didn’t say we’d be.”
“Well I hope she doesn’t take too long,” the detective commented, looking around at the squalor of their particular corner.
They were posted up in front of a ramen shop, but through the curtains in the windows, Beth couldn’t tell if it was in business or not. She liked to imagine that she saw a flutter of the curtains every now and then — perhaps a beam of light behind them.
I could really go for a bowl right now, she said, looking longingly at the restaurant. Something warm that wasn’t heated up over a campfire.
There was a stuffed tiger bolted to the floor right beside the restaurant. It was used to prop up a sandwich board, which announced lunch specials, but the chalk seemed so faded and worn that it was doubtful anyone had changed it in months.
Maybe it’s closed down, she thought sadly.
Simon was alert, looking over every face that came within fifteen feet of them. There was no way to discern his thoughts, but Beth kept her doubts and questions to herself. As each minute bled on and they continued to wait, she felt more and more anxious. She became increasingly aware of every face that looked her way, every pair of uncertain eyes. The large men with tattoos and scars made her particularly nervous. She was glad she didn’t have her purse or anything of value on her. Other than her clothes, she was naked. No gun, no badge, no I.D. She’d left everything when she tried to meet Marcus at the mall.
A group of four vagabonds wrestled with each other outside a food stand. Apparently, some passenger bought a large meal and only took a few bites before his capsule arrived, and had abandoned it. Now there were some grungy tunnel-dwellers, all smelling the fresh food like coyotes in the wild. They approached and laid their respective claims on the grub. What started as loud bickering had picked up into a full-blown fist fight. Dirty ponchos and torn hoodies were thrown about as the homeless people tore at each other. They were like sharks who had just smelled blood, writhing and working themselves into a frenzy. People passing by made wide berths to avoid them.
For a moment, Beth thought about going back to the gun store and seeing if she could get something to hold in her hand and feel safe. She wished more than ever that her department-issued sidearm was clipped to her hip, but then she remembered that it had
