The overly ornamented street was singing with activity. Street performers angled for our attention in every direction, singing, dancing, and spinning from the sides. Many of them wore masks or elaborate facial makeup, which turned my stomach more than it used to after I had a standoff with the woman who called herself Mercy. Unlike me, the majority of people paid them no mind. A mix of apathetic and indifferent pedestrians pushed past them to move along and get on their way. Only a small handful stopped long enough to get their dopamine fix for the day and toss them a tip.

  Past the main street, our destination came into view. The Red Light District skirted the line between good-natured fun and a legal, ethical gray zone. The push-pull between controversy and high demand placed it just out of view, but still within arm’s reach. Anybody who went looking would find it easily enough, and anyone who wanted to look away wouldn’t be forced to watch the indulgence of pleasure only money could buy.

  The Velvet Veil, in particular, stood out like a sore thumb with red as far as the eye could see. A sensually sloped roof atop the building covered in metallic sheets dazzled in the sunlight. Places like this didn’t make for subtlety. Once we were on foot, hollow cubes holding holographic models danced and cheered through the air, eating us with their eyes and blowing kisses in our direction. From a distance, it looked like magic, but up close I could make out the nearly invisible strings that suspended them in the air. Inconspicuously, they were one of the only things not dyed red. Even here they didn’t dare to call it fate. It looked like a trap. One foot in and you’d never make it out.

  “Are we watching them, or are they watching us?” I muttered.

  Unlike me, Gabe looked just as unbothered as ever. The only sign of distress was in the way he ruffled his hair and pointedly looked away from the model who attempted to reach out and touch him as he passed her by. With his rejection, she booed and pouted.

  “A guy like you should show a girl a good time,” she moaned.

  Almost human. Almost alive. Almost there. Models like that could make you feel for them, but the inhumanity showed up instantly as a new potential patron came into view and their vibrant expressions turned his way. I was starting to wonder if this place only held synthetic workers, but past the front doors, equally surrounded by plush velvet, that theory was instantly disproven. The people who worked there were very much human.

  The diversity was something to be admired. Some of them bore visible modifications to tickle the fantasies of the most depraved, while the rest looked more ordinary. However, even the most organic choices wore a mix of heavy makeup or clothing too flashy to be caught dead in anywhere more grounded. How many of them really wanted to be here?

  The service desk in front functioned the same as any other. Even places like this couldn’t escape the call of corporate bullshit. The woman manning the desk did a double take and jerked suddenly when she looked up at us. Real flesh-and-blood employees couldn’t hold that artificial sugar; the artificial ones did innately.

  “Are you here for work or pleasure?” she asked, cheerfully slipping back into her mandatory persona.

  “Work,” I said, flashing my badge.

  “We called ahead. Are they in?” I asked.

  “Who?” she asked.

  So much for making this fast and easy. There must have been a failure of communication somewhere. She had no idea what I was talking about. Ethan arranged this meeting for us in advance, saying that there were only two we needed to see. Why? We’d have to figure it out for ourselves. Although, it was a safe bet that he wouldn’t send us on a wild goose chase for nothing. The reason must have been in the data and patterns somewhere. The information diet was supposed to keep us as objective and unbiased as possible.

  “Go easy on her,” Gabe said. “Can’t expect the poor lady to remember everything.”

  Gabe put space between us by angling himself closer. With an arm leaning on the counter, he carried on with his smooth, carefree demeanor. If I was fire, he was water.

  “We’re here for Chase Renner and Greg Miller. We need to see the two they liked,” he said.

  The woman straightened out her skirt and busied herself with finding what we needed. Appearance was everything in an industry that was only skin deep. Even with lives on the line, she still had to make herself presentable first. Hardly several minutes had passed, but it felt like an eternity. Gabe cleared his throat, and I finally noticed the impatient clicking of my artificial fingers against the counter and the terrified looks the woman was casting my way.

  The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  “I’m not trying to threaten you,” I sighed. “Just give us what we need, and we’ll be on our way.”

  Without synthetic skin on my artificial hand, it looked more like a weapon than anything else. People didn’t skip the pretty outer coat unless they wanted to send a message. The exposed chrome exterior flaunted inhumanity and power, making me look both more and less than human. Adding that to my stormy demeanor made me look like someone ready to show what getting on my bad side could cost them.

  I quickly stuffed my hands in my pockets to hide the evidence. It was a common unconscious gesture I’d practiced all my life, but now it had more of a pragmatic element than before. Hypothetically, I could have taken another short trip back to the clinic and gotten fitted for new skin, but somehow, I just couldn’t be bothered. If this was what I was, what was the point of pretending to be anything else?

  “You’re going to be meeting with Vera Lux and Silas Gray in room number seven. You’ll find them right down the hall,” she said, handing us a pair of metallic pins designed to announce our arrival. “If you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask.”

  She smiled widely as she handed us two small metallic pins, probably excited to send us on our way. Electronic components were just barely visible through the center gems.

  “Access keys?” I asked.

  She nodded once, and that was that. We headed off down the hall while thoughts were still swimming through my head. I wondered if it was part of the gimmick. People didn’t come here because they wanted to be grounded in reality. They wanted to fly away into their dreams or sink into the depths of their darkest desires. Flashy little tricks were just the cherry on top. If you were going to go to a brothel for authenticity, you might as well watch pornographic media for the plot.

  “Lucky number seven,” I muttered. “Can’t have luck without lux, can we?”

  The pins secured to our coat lapels briefly flashed a brilliant red hue, and with no one in sight, the doors automatically swung open. On the other side of the dark of the room, I sensed movement. Slowly, the figures across from us shifted into view with a warm, dull light. It pulsated sensually until it settled into a steady glow. The pair, a man and a woman, were lounging peacefully on a large plush couch. Further back in the room, there was a queen-sized bed, only large enough to hold two.

  “I am Detective Walker, and this is Detective Grant. Do you know why we’re here?” I asked.

  The man stiffened slightly, but the woman showed no reaction. She was neither surprised nor caught off balance. Her confidence was only accentuated by the shiny, glittering outfit she wore. It clung to her tightly, leaving nothing to the imagination.

  “Relax,” she said, pointedly crossing her legs. “We have fun here. There’s no need to be so tense.”

  Setting her ether device down, she turned her full attention to us.

  “We see your type all the time,” she said. “Sometimes on business and sometimes on pleasure. Which one is it today?”

  “Business,” I said with emphasis.

  She sighed and took another hit from her ether device. This wasn’t going to be fun for either of us. I couldn’t blame her for taking one more for luck.

  “Did one of my clients get into trouble again?” she asked.

  “You could say that,” I said. “They’re dead.”

  She crossed her arms and leaned back in irritation. This time, there was no sensuality in her movement.

  “There goes my paycheck,” she muttered before waving her hand to indicate the other side of the L-shaped couch. “If you’re going to be here a while, then take a seat. Even I don’t like cops glaring down at me.”

  “Fair enough,” I said, as we took our seats.

  I wasn’t sure how to broach the topic, but I didn’t have to. Gabe dove right in and got straight to the point.

  “Did they book both of you together or one at a time?” he asked.

  That was a question that could go both ways. He could have either been asking them whether the two men came together or whether each man booked both of them at the same time. Vera decided to answer both questions simultaneously, surprisingly sharp for someone who wasn’t sober.

  “They came separately. I never got the feeling that they knew each other,” she said. “As for playtime… sometimes it was just me, but when they really wanted the full experience, they had him come join us.”

  She turned to him expectantly, and he seemed alarmed to be put on the spot but didn’t shy away from her cue.

  “The full experience…” he muttered. “I wouldn’t put it that way.”

  “How would you put it then?” I asked.

  He paused for a second.

  “Don’t you think you’re skipping a step?” he asked. “Why don’t you ask for our names first?”

  “You’re bold today,” she laughed. “Okay, introductions first then. I’m Vera.”

  “Real name?” I asked.

  “Obviously,” she scoffed. “No one’s dumb enough to use their real name here, or at least not all of it.”

  Unlike her, he hesitated.

  “Silas is my real name,” he whispered.