CHAPTER 21 - FUNGIS

Sindy never made it to the fire at the aerodrome. The confusion and congestion was simply too great. She got close enough to see that the devastation was horrific but mostly limited to the blimp hangars at the far edge of the Capital City Aerodrome. Vanessa from the fashion pages of the FT pressed on, but Sindy wanted to follow up on the pending monetary crisis. Vanessa had told Sindy a lot about the European perspective of the precarious state of the Linden.

Since the me-Phones were not working and the message system seemed to be off as well, Sindy decided she had to use ground transportation. She exited the pedi-cab at The Times office and rushed to her office on the 19th floor and changed her shoes into comfortable ReBalanced running shoes. She decided to take a chance and go directly to Chris Llanfair the President of the Reserve Bank and Counting House of Second Life at his mansion in the Embassy District off of Immunity Parkway.

As Sindy left The Times building she could see dull orange glow of fire in the south. She could smell wood and tar smoke. Finding a cab was difficult, but eventually she caught one at the corner of Beast Street and the Avenue of the Sims in front of the Temple of the Yellow Knights. Sindy always thought the old structure and its walled courtyard to be an oddity in Capital City, but after the Druid Incident and the battle with the Army of Circe, Sindy gained a new respect for both the building and the ancient curmudgeons who gathered there for their scary rituals and rites.

The pedi-cab driver was one of the few Sindy had met who spoke jinglish and he was anxious to talk. His name was Beebo and he came from a distant improvised sim which had been paved over with shopping centers and malls that were perennially empty. The only jobs were camping jobs, or window washing. Everyone knew you could not make a living camping or washing.

“See the fire?” asked Beebo.

“Yes,” replied Sindy. “I got too close for comfort.”

“I saw it when it blew up. It was awful.” Said Beebo. “Lindens got to do something about this. First the me-Phones, then stadium riot, the script errors, then the IM flops, and now the aerodrome blows up and poof, the really good fares and high tips are gone. Without modern blimps how is an avatar to get home to visit the folks or see Mildred, Minne, and Mopsy. And if they come visit me where do I take them. The stadium is a pile of charcoal now and the Pi Ball games are cancelled.”

“True,” said Sindy not paying attention.

“Linden’s gotta do something. I pay taxes here, VAT taxes, maintenance; I think Linden is against small business. Yes he’s not a man of the avatars,” said Beebo with conviction bordering on anger.

“There’s always the Rapido,” said Sindy.

“Not working,” replied Beebo. “It’s down. Some idiot deleted the script and it can’t be found.”

Sindy suddenly began to pay more attention.

“What else is not working in Second Life?” asked Sindy.

“Well I get around, I see things in this cab. I’m kind of an avatar of the streets. Yes, I got street smarts and street creds… that’s for sure,” said Beebo enthusiastically knowing he had the lovely Sindy’s attention and perhaps a big tip for some juicy information.”

“What’s not right in Capital City?” Sindy asked a bit louder.

“Well the edge of Capital City is wriggling. I know it sounds goofy but it’s wriggling out by there by the Oak Forest border near the stadium. Saw it with my own eyes.”

“Really,” said Sindy.

“And then there’s the really odd thing.”

“Yes,” replied Sindy.

“Well you might think I’m crazy but I’ve been peddling in this city for years and I swear that it’s smaller. Yup smaller,” said Beebo.

“That’s not possible Beebo.”

“I know, I know, But it used to be 4307 turns of the pedal to go from the pick up spot at The Museo to the drop off spot at the Capital Dome. I must do that trip thirty or forty times a day. Well today it was about 4190. Call me crazy, but its shrinking.”

“Did you drop your rates?” asked Sindy with a smile on her face.

“Heck no. The tourists don’t know. But something is not right. No, Lindens better fix all this stuff and fix it fast or I’ll vote for the independent party. Or I’ll call for the return of old King Monforte. Anything is better than this. The next thing you know we will have more flation. The flation is bad enough now, but if it gets worse avatars will be angry.”

The cab pulled to the curb and stopped before the enormous brightly lit mansion of Chris Llanfair. As Sindy gave the cabby a 22 Linden note. Beebo held the note paused in thought.

“I can’t prove this of course,” said Beebo “but I think it’s more laggy at night when there’s no one about. I know, I know it makes no sense. Lag happens when lots of avatars are about, but something in not right at night when no one is about.”

“Got a card Beebo, I may need a man on the street interview,” said Sindy as she alighted from the cab seat.

“No, but you can find me in the Book,” said Beebo. “Not that it will do any good. You can also find me either at Gigots Malt Shoppe and Gin Joint or running tourists up and down Beast Street.”

“Keep the change,” said Sindy.

Beebo smiled and peddled away. As Sindy looked it did seem a bit slower than usual. Perhaps lag at night was a new phenomenon like the copy bot or poisoned note card.

Mallory stood staring down the alley toward the rendering plant outside the coin and currency shop. She was deep in thought.

Witney wondered and then asked Mallory, “Was that true? What you said about changing the currency tonight?”

“No,” replied Mallory.

“What now,” said Witney.

Mallory turned to Witney and said, “You’re familiar with politics in Second Life?”

“I hate to admit it, but yes. I was Senator Funstas chauffeur for over three years. Took him everywhere. I saw a lot. Even participated in some. And there is may Dad,” replied Witney.

“Who is the most corrupt, spineless, baby kissing, glad hander in all of the Senate?”

“That’s easy, Hyrum Funstas, my boss. But he’s still missing so the next in line is Crosspond Fungis from the Sim of Sonogno, he’s almost as dirty as Funstas, replied Witney.

“What party is Fungis?” asked Mallory.

“Republicrat,” said Witney, “but he’s been a Demican at times. Depends on what way the wind is blowing and who’s got the most campaign contributions and party favors. The Senate is not in session, but I know where he will be tonight. It’s not far.”

“Lead the way,” said Mallory.

Witney led Mallory out of the tiny ally and onto AU Street. As they walked down the street they passed Sidney Mobile’s, the gem dealer and fence, past The Tobacco shop where Trixi worked. Mallory looked. Trixi was not there. Trixi was probably at home in the flat above the shop. As they approached the Capital City Madam Bitter’s hotel Witney paused.

“Fungis has a suite here, at Madam Bitters. The Brothel and Bordello’s Federation of Congress pays for his suite and for his, ah, companionship. I can see the lights on. See that corner room on the fourth floor - the Governor’s Suite.” said Witney pointing.

Mallory looked at the old brick hotel squatting in the financial district of Second Life. The building was of stucco covered mud brick and had seen better times. Most of the stucco had flaked off in recent years and the window sashes had lost their thin coat of paint. A few windows on the 6th floor ballroom were cracked and one was missing. The Capital City Bitters had become a tourist hotel in recent years and rooms were rented by the hour on the first two floors. ‘Family Rates’ said a fading sign in the dirty smoke stained window. A broken neon sign blinked ‘CHIC’ and made an ugly buzzing noise. There had once been a good bar in the lobby but it had closed years ago. Business had been bad. How that was possible in a tourist hotel was beyond reasoning in Mallory’s mind. The old bar was boarded up. Renovations had reduced the once large ornate lobby into a narrow hall at the end of which stood an oddly truncated reception.

The revolving door was locked shut but the side door was open. Mallory entered and Witney followed. Two green overstuffed and stained couches had been pushed up against one wall of the abbreviated lobby. As Mallory approached the reception desk she noticed that the old dining room was still operating. The dining room had become a fast food joint specializing in fried fryers. The place reeked of stale grease and week old chicken. There was a trail of grease on the worn tile floor from the restaurant to the elevator. Take out, thought Mallory.

There was no one at reception. Mallory walked around and behind the reception desk and hit the bell hard.

Damaged Bocs, the receptionist appeared after a few moments. Bocs was dressed in a greasy black suit with a black tie and shirt.

“Grey hides grease better Bocs,” said Mallory with familiarity.

Bocs looked at Mallory with recognition and then worry. Mallory had busted Bocs years before for unmentionable crimes, which now are as normal as rain in a city with mud brick buildings and rusted tin roofs.

“You retired, I heard that,” said Bocs with false conviction.

Mallory said nothing but stared at Bocs and then inspected his suit and appearance like she had a magnifying glass in her hand and was about to burn ants with focused sunlight.

“Mallory, I got a decent job here. Please don’t make any trouble. My boss he doesn’t know.”

Witney grinned. Wow that silence stuff really works well she thought.

“Is he in?” asked Mallory.

“Who?” replied Bocs.

Mallory said nothing.

Bocs looked at Witney. “Hi Witney. No trouble, right? No trouble.”

Witney said nothing but she tried the magnifying glass trick and Bocs became increasingly nervous and insecure.

“Funstas still missing?” Bocs said nervously. “The girls miss him.”

“Is he in?” Mallory repeated in a lower calm voice with a hint of potential for pain.

“Yeh,” said Bocs, “He’s got guests, can’t be disturbed.”

Mallory stood still staring at Bocs, then she broke eye contact and quickly scanned the reception. There were letter boxes and half were filled with keys. She turned and looked carefully at the back side of the reception desk and then grabbed a ring of keys that were hanging on a nail next to a rusted cash box and dusty yellowing registration cards which had not been used in a decade. Mallory placed a 20 Linden note on the counter.

Witney noticed that Bocs started to object and then didn’t. He wants to be rid of Mallory thought Witney. Bocs was looking at the bank note.

Mallory turned to Witney and said, “Count to 100 and then follow me up. Bocs is gonna be nice and quiet while you count. Bocs took the note.

Witney turned and then bounded up the stairs rather than use the elevator. Witney could hear the tread of her footsteps on the creaky wooden stairs all the way to the count of forty. When she reached 100, Witney looked hard faced at Bocs. He averted his gaze and then Witney ran for the stairs.

When Witney arrived the double doors to the suite were wide open and Mallory was in the bedroom of the suite standing over the naked form of Fungis. Two avatars, a furry and a female age player were wrapped in sheets. The furry in the fitted bottom sheet and the age player in the top sheet. The mattress was bare and oddly new. Probably a benefit from the Federation thought Witney. Two empty bottles of cheap campaign and some hand rolled cigarettes were on a dark brown night stand. One cigarette was still smoking as it sat on the edge of the wooden table. The table had lots of burn marks along the edge. Witney sniffed. Yep, she thought.

Senator Fungis stood and tried to assume senatorial decorum, but it was hopeless. Without his clothes he was just another John caught in flagrante delicto. The senator recognized Mallory but was clearly not afraid of her.

Mallory looked at Fungis’s instrument and began laughing. A hard cruel laugh.

Witney realized that the senator was completely disarmed, embarrassed, insulted and deflated.

“Fungis, I’ll let you alone. I just want to know one thing?” said Mallory with a stone cold stare of impending mayhem and disdain for his instrument.

Fungis said nothing, but tried to reach for his pants which lay on the floor. Mallory was standing on them, and his shorts as well.

Fungis looked up with a stupid guilty smile, like a teen age boy caught in the barn by his mommy doing what comes naturally.

“How long have you been in NAGS?” asked Mallory.

Fungis stood. His fear of Mallory had been replaced by a greater fear. A fear of cowardice mixed with panic. Mallory had hit a button.

He’s gonna run, thought Witney as she backed up to cover the door to the sitting area.

“How much phony currency did they pay you Fungis,” asked Mallory.

Fungis’ panic was replaced by another fear, the fear of discovering that greed is a mortal sin if you get caught. “It’s not phony,” Fungis said in a voice far too loud.