Part Five
In a seedy alley near North Beach, Cattrell turned his cobalt blue sedan into an old, dilapidated motel.
The Town House. It looked the same as always: a small, spider-webbed blacktop parking lot and bright blue flowerboxes without flowers in them, with weeds growing haphazardly.
Cattrell stepped out and walked into the motel office. The sign was turned onto “No Vacancy” but he knew better. Suspension of disbelief for Can’t-Buy-Me Watsona was in full force out there, but the one thing that everyone knew was that you can buy information.
Sonny didn’t make his living renting out rooms. Half of them were unlivable, the other half were occupied by squatters and hookers. There were only one or two rooms available, plenty for short business.
Sonny’s main product was information. Unlike the Internet, with its few private servers and blockchains left, he brokered information better than Google on a good day. Somehow he knew all there was to know about the people who rented his rooms, even if they were staying for just one night, or an hour or two. There was a lot a man could do with a person’s name and one form of identification.
“What ya got for me, Slim?” Sonny said with a half toothless smile. “That look on yer face says it might be tar.”
“It’s not tar.” Cattrell responded, placing a Zenith KC-101 user manual in front of Sonny. “What can you tell me about this company? Zenith. It’s not listed.”
Sonny peered down at the user manual, rifled through it. Cattrell began doubting he could even read. Sonny tossed the book down, and it hit the counter with a slap. “Out of business. Bought out. Sold.” His lips pursed up and down for a second, clear case of tar. “Had a gentleman used to come this way every few nights or so. Complained about the new company. What was it --” Sonny stared into space for a moment. A pained look came across his face as he tried to recall the name. “I got it. I know it.” His hands shot up to the sides of his face, and he began pulling at his hair. He squirmed in his chair. “Almost there. Almost there.”
Cattrell was uncomfortable with this ritual Sonny displayed on visits like these. But he suffered watching through it because the information always proved to be true.
“New Dynamics." Sonny let out a sigh, and smoothed out his hair. "That’s it.”
“Thanks.” Cattrell picked up the book and left.
Three SBD coins flashed on the counter, one spinning like a top.
Read from the beginning:
Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four
Read the next chapter:
"The Girl and the Pendulum" is an 18-part future-noir science fiction story about a a private investigator's search for a missing android. How can a man who searches for missing women find lost artificial intelligence? I welcome feedback on this story about a man and his difficult case in a post-war, post collapse world. Stay tuned, as I also will begin publishing my 300,000 word epic novel "The Messiah" on Steemit in 2017.
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