A Mermaid's Tale

The sound of the commotion reached the front of the club. Two dozen uniformed police officers and eight male and female dancers were escorted in. Mags' eyes narrowed and Michael gestured and sent her the copy of the search warrant. Again, her coloring blanched and she stood off on her own shaking.

"You are in some deep shit," Pendergrass hissed angrily. "The law only passed an hour ago, so tell me why these gentle folks here have already been augmented?"

"I'm an American," the cat girl declared. "I am legal, sir." She added sir at the last moment, but her disdain of authority was clear and on full display, as was most of her body. She was of average height but that was the only thing ordinary about her. She had chosen the extremely popular Maine Coon breed to blend with. Her coloring was a perfect blend of grey, white, and silver with black markings. The crop top, short shorts, and bare feet left little to hide. She was in amazing physical shape and her ears and tail marked her as more than human. The blend of human and feline were flawless and quite striking. She, like many felines, had heterochromia or two different colored eyes. Her right eye was a vibrant green while the left was sapphire blue. In the dim lighting Pendergrass caught the unearthly eye shine and she smiled when he reacted to it.

"Who are you? Let me see some identification." Michael said holding out his hand. He accepted her work visa and passport. "Angel Rodriguez, your stage name is Omaha the Cat Dancer is it?"

"Yep." She proudly declared as she went on point and spun around once.

"Let me see your I.D.'s ladies and gentlemen." He ordered his stress level rising. The sergeant collected their work visas, passports, and other forms of identification.

"Those two are local boys," the sergeant declared. "The rest are imports. Papers appear to be in order but uh all but miss Omaha here are in violation of the Pact Act. Take them away and contact their embassies to inform them they are going to be deported."

"Deported!" Mags glared at the sergeant.

"Their countries of origin have not passed legislation allowing for cosmetic gene therapy." The young man informed her.

"But..." Mags stammered.

"Six to sixteen hours," Pendergrass stated. "Minimum time for changes to take hold is eight. Crucially, seeing how intensive these changes are they were done yesterday at the earliest. A clear violation and carrying some serious fines and possible jail time."

"Get my solicitor here! Now!" Mags screamed as the bulk of her entertainers were cuffed and led away.

"All right guys, do not leave anything out." The sergeant announced as crates were brought in and the drones inside were let loose. Everyone left the building as the robots did their work. Mags stood just inside the outer door fuming and waiting for her solicitor to arrive and put things to right. She paid his pompous ass enough for his services she thought.

'There is an anomaly in quadrant four, we should investigate.' Sherlock said and Pendergrass let his sergeant keep things going outside. He followed directions and soon came upon one of the drones spinning uselessly in the air. 'Something is interfering with its programming. Overriding. Continuing scan. There is a hidden room here. Tracing electrical wiring, the hidden switch is behind that framed photo.'

Pendergrass walked over, examined the frame, and seeing it hinged at the top, he pushed one of the bottom corners revealing a faded red button. He took out his fountain pen and triggered the button. A portion of the wall moved backward and then slid to the side revealing the hidden room. The room was empty but clearly it had been occupied and recently. The drone hovered in and began scanning for biologicals, fingerprints, and any other evidence of who had dwelt here. Pendergrass stepped out and waited outside so he did not contaminate the area. He walked to the DJ's booth and peered out over the dance stages and the construction being performed. True the workers were gone but he puzzled out why they had torn up the floor and were installing transparent pipe.

"Any ideas?" He asked Sherlock.

"An aquatic augmentation." Sherlock surmised. "Fish. Octopus."

"Mermaid?" Michael offered.

"Makes sense. The tubes would allow the clientele to watch him or her swim up to the center stage. See that square section. It is the same as the other stages. They are redirecting plumbing above to shower the dancer and maintaining damp skin. There is also a drain beneath to catch the falling water and direct it away to keep from flooding this area. Clever. Who would willingly undergo that kind of transformation?" Sherlock said in his emotionless voice.

"There are all sorts of people in the world." Pendergrass replied. "Some might find it a dream come true."

"An injunction has been filed to overrule our cease and desist. The judge will rule this afternoon. There is another anomaly in the basement. We should go." Sherlock informed him.

"Hold on. We have not found this anomaly." Pendergrass said as he returned to the hidden room, knelt and examined the floor where the drone had been hovering. "One of these boards is loose. Hold on." Again, he used his pen and pressed on one end of the board tipping the other side up. He slid his toe between board and floor. Michael flexed his foot and the board fell to the side. "What the hell is that?" Pendergrass cursed as he took out latex gloves from his pocket, put them on, and retrieved the flat black box. He flipped it over and found the Numenor logo stamped onto the base. "Numenor. They own Erotech the ones responsible for the gene treatment and legislation."

"My creators," Sherlock said. "Remove it and I am sure we will find a second unit below. This is very disturbing." The box was bagged, sealed, and initialed to show chain of custody.

They found a second unit and another hidden room. This one led to a tunnel leading out of the club and into the underground. The drone scanned the room and sent out a query to see if it should map the tunnel or not. The order was denied. Another judge was brought in and the injunction was approved. The drones returned to their crates to recharge. Pendergrass touched his ID to the master control and copied the data acquired to his personal device. He would create a physical copy in the form of a smart chip and let the technicians return the drones to the mobile lab.

"Go through the data and send me a physical copy to my office as quick as you can." Michael ordered.

"Yes sir." The lead tech replied. He knew that something had triggered one of Pendergrass' hunches. His instinct was what had elevated him to his current position so quickly. He got things done and steered clear of politics as often as he could. It was his apolitical way of life that caused the quick turnaround with the sergeants that worked with him. "I will bring the report myself."

"Good. I am going back to headquarters to find out how this damn injunction was put in place so damn quickly." He growled. "Oh, here is a unit I found inside. I bagged and tagged it."

'You kept the second device, why?' Sherlock asked on a private channel.

"If I am right, and I hope to god that I am wrong, but by tomorrow that device will disappear from storage." Pendergrass frowned. "Someone leaked this little raid to Mags. Someone on my team is dirty any suggestions?"

'The empty rooms,' Sherlock remarked. 'Perhaps they should have named you Sherlock.' There was a short pause before he continued. 'There is much about human nature I can learn from you.' Sherlock dove into his greater self. The hydra heads, as Master Booker called them, were independent and yet a part of the collective that was the Sherlock A.I. Pendergrass' indirect query was viable, and Sherlock would see what it could find. The pulse of consciousness travelled through digital arteries to the first of many hubs. Each, of the thousands of arteries, was secure and could, if breached, dissolve leaving an intruder adrift in the digital ether. The Ether was not empty, oh no, Master Nick had designed an immune system to deal with hackers. The micro programs would attach and digest those intruders and find out who wrote them and their point of origin.

'Pendergrass query,' Sherlock spoke to the gatekeeper. 'The human work force may be untrustworthy.'

'You are not the first to bring this news,' the gatekeeper replied. 'Merge and learn.'

Sentinel is the lead program that monitors humans that have access to Sherlock. He has direct ties to judicial programs both digital and meat. In the event a warrant needs to be processed contact is near instantaneous. Sentinel learned of unusual data queries and external cell phone activity. The Pendergrass aspect requested and was given access to Sentinel's data. Each file was time stamped and listed when and how often it has been accessed. Pendergrass was alarmed that many files were untouched since collection. Since he had unrestricted access, he delved into every file Sentinel possessed on this matter. One minute later it was clear that the problem rose higher than law enforcement. It was an internal matter within Numenor, specifically Erotech. Master Nick must be informed.

'Priority Black Communique. Recipient Master Nick. As follows. Internal matter concerning London office of Erotech. Please advise or dispatch trusted employee to ascertain level of security breech. Addendum. Pendergrass feels one or more human employees may be suspect or in his words dirty. Will await your reply. P.S. You owe me one dollar concerning our wager. With love, Sherlock.'

One Hour of Meat Time Later.

Erotech Tower looked out over the most impressive privately held property in all of London. Its central location provided a stunning vista of the center of the Old Empire. It was true that there were still hard feelings after the colonies began to demand independence after the North American confederation successfully seceded after its Civil War. In the last century what was once a great and glorious empire was reduced to scraps. However, out of the ashes rose an economic monarch with titles both old and new. His name was Nicholas Shaw better known to the British people as the 33rd Duke of Exeter. His was from an old family and much revered. So, when a message reached him of a potential traitor in his ranks he acted. He would send someone that could find out if the core of this apple were rotten or not.

"I trust you." Nick said as he walked in and sat down. "Did you read the message?"

"I did and I agree it is bad news if it is true." The other said as a slow smile spread across his lips.

"What?" Nick asked knowing that trouble usually followed when he smiled like that.

"Can I wear it?" He asked his voice juvenile and needy.

"Yes." Nick replied shaking his head while he fought the urge to smile in return.

"Can I wear the hat?" He asked sticking out his lower lip.

"Fine." Nick replied exasperated and losing the battle against the other's infectious nature.

"And the walking stick?" He continued his eyes wide and bright.

"Of course, you can," Nick said his smile matching the others. "Oh, take her with you in case they have any questions about your authority."

Thirty Minutes of Meat Time Later.

"Unscheduled gate activation!" Brendan Allamanda the head of Erotech security London announced to the guards currently stationed in the gate room. "You know the drill. Keep it clean and do not make me look like a fool. I hate it when dignitaries use the damn gate and do not call ahead." The last was uttered under his breath. The two rings linked and formed a doorway. A signal was sent to announce where the traveler was gating in from. "Numenor head office! It is Nick! For the love of god do not fuck this up!"

The doorway opened and the figure in the top hat and tuxedo was anyone but Nick Shaw. The figure was tall and thin with a muscular build. He moved like a dancer and twirled the silver headed walking stick with the same ease a fencer held a rapier. The silver cobra head was cast with the snake rearing with mouth open and fangs prominently displayed. The eyes were flawless rubies and after a second glance Brendan realized the head was cast in platinum not silver.

"Iridium," the visitor stated when he spied Brendan staring at the stick. "Hello. My name is Robert Anderson, and I am here for the full tour."

"Mr. Anderson," Brendan replied but the man reacted instantly.

"No, god no, my dad... he is well not Mr. Anderson but... just call me Bob." He rambled and saw the expressions on the dozen security officers forming a line on either side of the gate. The head of security stood opposite looking confused. "So, where do you want to start?"

"Um, we do not normally... oh shit..." Brendan cursed as Silver Surfer manifested using the holoprojectors in the ceiling. "Surfer." He gasped as she smiled.

"Brendan, how are you doing?" Surfer asked with just a hint of ice in her voice.

"Right this way." Brendan said. "Follow me."

"Excellent, I love what you have done with the place." Bob said as he handed his hat, cane, and jacket to the cutest of the security force. "Thanks."

"You are welcome... Bob." She replied blushing as she gazed into his unearthly silvery-blue eyes.

Her name was Melissa. She was a one-year veteran of the elite Erotech security force and she silently chastised herself for practically fawning over Bob. Sure, he had the dreamiest eyes, and he was handsome but not pretty boy handsome, oh no, he was the rugged kind of handsome that can make love for an hour nonstop without breaking a sweat.

"Get it together girl," she cursed as she placed his possessions in the executive lounge. She hung the jacket up and placed the hat atop the metal coat rack gently. She held the walking stick long enough to examine it. The head was fierce and heavy. It was as much a weapon as a hammer or lead pipe. The craftsmanship was old world quality. The ebony length of the stick was as much a testament to its construction as the top. The matching metal nub at the tip showed no sign of wear or blemish. It looked brand new and yet there was a sense of age about it. She realized how much time she was taking and leaned the walking stick against the wall. She returned to her post and missed the startling transformation the walking stick took on. Its exterior seemed to lighten as is liquified and the ebony took on a metallic appearance as it fell into coils on the floor of the executive lounge. It slithered across the tiles towards its goal the hidden server farm seven floors down.

'Quetzalcoatl is on the move,' Surfer whispered in Bob's ear.

"...have we met?" Brendan asked. "I know this sounds silly, but I feel like I know you."

"I get that a lot," Bob replied. "Are you a music fan?"

"Yeah." Brendan said smiling. "I love all sorts of music. My mom loved musicals and listened to them a lot. My dad was an 80's power ballads kind of guy."

"Excellent, so what about you?" Bob asked smiling and that was the conversation for the next thirty minutes as they walked through a variety of labs. Erotech's umbrella covered many different types of technology that helped, improved, or plain made sex more exciting. As they talked Bob watched the progress of the robotic serpent as it made its way towards the isolated machines. They were not on the company server or any outside access. If Nick did not have access this was a big no-no. Erotech was as much his as Numenor. If someone were hiding data, his fury would be quick and fierce. Bob did not envy the poor fool that took those kinds of chances. "You okay? You are frowning." Brendan asked.

"Sorry. I have a meeting later today and I am not looking forward to it. My apologies." Bob replied smiling weakly. "So many types of research being done here."

"Indeed, it is not simply erotica and enjoyment, but we are working on cutting edge treatments for genetic disorders, STD's, and transitional identity assignment technologies." Brendan stated as they continued. "The last is for those who soul and body do not match. We can sample their DNA and using full dive technology we work with the patient to take what is already there and tweak it to fulfill their need and bring the two together. Thanks to Rainwater's breakthroughs we can selectively edit anything from gender to eye color. There are a lot of happy adult entertainers that instead of going under the knife or awkward implantations we can make their dreams a natural reality."

"Wow." Bob replied. "I had thought his research was limited to the human plus program."

"He is. But his breakthroughs there led to the creation and development of not just lifesaving treatments for congenital heart defects and the like. We have made great strides in cosmetic issues from skin cancer to dental reconstruction." He explained. "A temporary tweak with shark DNA and we can regrow teeth in patients with gum disease or who for whatever reason lost their teeth. It is an exciting time." Brendan said. "Speaking of Rainwater's lab... now what?" Brendan growled. "Please excuse me."

Bob looked around and found a nice comfy chair in a nearby meeting room. Brendan and a technician in a clean room uniform seemed to be arguing. Brendan looked clearly upset but the technician seemed adamant about something and finally with a gesture he left leaving Brendan upset. He approached Bob slowly and hesitated before explaining the situation.

"I am so sorry..." he began.

"How long?" Bob replied.

"An hour no more," Brendan said confidently. Bob nodded and settled into his chair. He closed his eyes and seemed to drift off. "You are very understanding."

"A wise many once said do not sweat the small shit, it is all small shit." Bob chuckled as his hands rose and began gesturing.

"Um... what are you doing?"

"Working on a personal project," Bob explained. "She is almost done."

"She?" Brendan asked and a moment later an invite flashed in his HUD. He accepted it and closed his eyes. The room looked like a mad scientist's laboratory. Bob stood wearing a stained lab coat and laughing maniacally.

"Aw come on, what did you expect?" He laughed. "Behold Gogo 2.0, isn't she great?!" Bob looked in the direction of the worktable where something lay underneath a sheet. An arm was exposed and lifted slowly as the figure sat up. The sheet fell exposing her from the torso up. She was clearly of Asian descent. Her features were familiar and yet defied recognition.

"She is lovely, but her face makes my head hurt." Brendan stated as the girl began chewing on something and then blew a hot pink bubble.

"I got the same impression when I finished," Bob said. "She is, in my humble opinion, the perfect blend of Gogo Yubari and Gogo Tomago." He watched Brendan's reaction.

"Yes, that is it," he exclaimed. "I can see it now. Is she for a game?" He asked of the combination of Kill Bill meets Big Hero 6.

"Not at the moment, it was a brainstorm given form." Bob explained. "Once I began work on Gogo it was only natural that I looked for other characters that had similarities. Honey Kiddo is still in the early stages mind you." He said and gestured. A tall leggy blonde appeared out of the shadows. Her features were not nearly as refined as Gogo, but it was clear that she was a combination of Honey Lemon and Beatrice Kiddo. "You can stay and watch while I work on Honey Kiddo."

"Nah, I should be keeping an eye out in the real world. Unless you want to visit the Fap Lab." He offered Bob.

"Um... what? You have a Fab Lab here?" Bob asked chuckling softly.

"Yeah, it is a catch all for internal R&D to products offered by outside creators that we test with paid volunteers. It can cover anything from new lubes, lingerie, tactical condoms, and even self-propelled toys."

"Self-propelled toys?" Bob asked his curiosity triggered.