Chapter 20: // Data Curse

Loki was standing in line at a coffeehouse, six people back, when the businessman cut in line two slots ahead of him. The woman there hadn’t closed the gap entirely, and the douchebag slipped right in, pretending not to notice the dozen people stretching toward the wall.

The mousy woman in front of him accepted it, and no one else seemed inclined to start an argument.

Loki had killed people for less.

He stepped out of line and walked with his studded leather riding boots and black riding outfit straight up to the man—whose cologne assaulted his tastebuds as much as his nostrils. “Asshole. That’s the end of the line, back there.” Loki gestured to the far wall.

The man, who stood at least half a head taller, raised his eyebrows. “What did you call me, son?”

Loki took a deep breath. The Daemon did not permit him to commit wanton murder—he had to have a legitimate infrastructure defense purpose for punching someone’s ticket. And he had to be able to pass fMRI interrogation on every kill. He took another deep breath. There were alternatives, however.

“I said—ASSHOLE—the line is back there.”

The queue advanced another slot—the man was only one person away from the register.

“Look, just grow up, son. You don’t intimidate me with your little leather outfit and your goth contact lenses.”

“If you don’t assume your rightful place in this line, I will make you regret the day you were born.”

“Are you threatening me? In public?”

“It’s not a threat. I’m telling you, that if you do not leave this position in line—you will wish you were dead.”

“This isn’t amusing, son. Now leave me alone before you get yourself in legal trouble.”

“You made your choice.”

The man actually started a bit when Loki raised his ringed hands and pointed at him. “Vilos andre—siphood ulros—carvin sienvey.” Loki spiraled his finger in front of the guy. “I curse your data. . . .”

The man burst out laughing. “Is that what you’re going to do? Cast a whammy hex on me?” He laughed again.

Loki kept aiming his finger—and read the consumer data from the man’s wireless devices, which linked in moments to his identity. “Robert Wahlen—social security ending 3-9-7-3—I damn you, that you might walk cursed among men . . .”

The man stopped laughing. “How do you know my name? Where the hell did you get that information?”

“. . . that your data will forever sour. Until you seek expiation.”

“You’re a fuckin’ weirdo, you know that? I want to know how you got that information. I’ll call the police.”

“I wouldn’t call the police if I were you, Bob. There’s probably a warrant out on you for unpaid parking tickets by now.”

The man’s turn at the register had come. He glared as Loki stood nearby.

“Goddamned weirdo . . .”

The man ordered his coffee and a pastry, then offered his gold card. The cashier ran it, paused, and then frowned. “I’m sorry, sir. That card was declined. Do you have another one?”

“Declined? That’s impossible.”

The people in line groaned.

“Look, here . . .” He took out another credit card and handed it to her. Then he turned to face Loki. “Listen, I’m going to call the police if you don’t get away from me.”

“But I’m a law-abiding citizen, Bob. You should be careful who you point fingers at.”

The cashier grimaced. “Uh, I’m sorry, sir. This one has also been declined, but it says that I need to confiscate it. I’m sorry.”

“What? This is ridiculous!”

“That’s what it says, sir.”

He tried to grab it back from her, but she pulled away. “Sir! The card is not your property. It’s the card company’s property.”

Wahlen turned on Loki. “You did something to me, and I’m going to phone the police.” The man stepped out of line and started dialing, but another call was already coming in. “Hello? . . .” Wahlen listened. Then frowned, whispering tersely. “No . . . no. Hold it. I don’t owe money on a boat.” He hung up.

Loki walked behind him. “Welcome to hell, Robert. . . .”

The man hurried out, Loki watching him go.

Loki suddenly noticed another darknet operative staring at him near the window—her handle marked her as Vienna_2, an eighth-level Chemist with a four-star reputation on a base of seven-thirty. “What are you lookin’ at?”

“That was cruel, Loki, to use your power like that. You’re liable to ruin that man’s life with a Data Curse. And over what—cutting in line?”

“Fuck you.”

She reached into D-Space and rated him one star.

He flipped her off. “If I gave a damn what you thought of me, I’d kill myself.”

Just then he received an alert in his HUD display, and his mood changed considerably as he read the notification. It was a pleasant surprise. He turned to Vienna_2. “My apologies, Vienna. As a matter of fact, here . . .” He rated her five stars. “For being such a civic-minded little bitch. But my day just got a lot better. If you’ll excuse me, I have to catch up with an old friend.”