Wong Ray stepped out of the taxi.
More specifically, the 3D organic printer in the back of the taxi copied him from his apartment study overlooking Nouveau Beijing to the moment he exited the taxi for the opening of the museum exhibit.
He shut down his self in the study so only one version would walk Earth in the next 12 hours.
Wong wanted to meet Facile, the high-level U.S. official who had paid off his IT subordinates to build a backdoor in all U.S. computer systems that were easily “hacked” by Wong’s government after given instructions on how to operate the backdoor without being detected.
Facile did not want to name his price except in person.
Both Wong and Facile rearranged their facial features, postures and mannerisms so that neither one would recognise the other in public.
Wong sat on a bench and pretended to admire the nuances of an old theremin installation set up in the entryway of the new exhibit, “Perks of the Job: Luxury Business Gifts of the 20th Century.”
A group of teenagers dressed in postzombie apocalypse gear jumped up and down to play a series of high-pitched staccato notes on the theremin.
As the kids walked on, one of them dropped a program under Wong’s bench.
Wong put on his reading glasses, picked up the program and read a note scribbled in old-fashioned invisible ink revealed by the filter in Wong’s eyeglass lenses.
The time, 20:23, had been written next to a circle around the program text, “Item 47A, Engraved Golf Rangefinder.”
Wong nodded at people entering the exhibit, wondering which one was Facile.
The museumgoers looked at Wong and saw an elderly Chinese woman, her sheer, white satin shawl accenting the pearl-encrusted, pink blouse and unfashionable pearescent miniskirt that Wong picked to shock the usual conservative types who attended museum openings.
At 20:20, Wong casually walked over to the display case containing items 45 to 50.
A young man, wearing a retro business suit of the late 20th Century – yellow ‘power’ tie, white starched shirt, dark blue sports coat with narrow lapels, matching trousers and tasseled brown leather shoes – stared at Wong.
Wong motioned the man over.
“Excuse me, kind sir. Do you know what a cigarette lighter is?”
“Yes. An archaic device used to ignite lung torture devices by crusty old gentlemen on clueless 20th Century foxes.”
“What is a 20th Century Fox?”
“A species that went extinct in the mid-2010s. Would you like to go somewhere for a drink?”
“Only if I’m buying.”
“How much are you willing to pay for it?”
“‘It’?”
“Yes, it. You know, I-T.”
“You needn’t be so obvious, young man. I know what you want.”
Wong walked to the next case, fully convinced the young man was Facile playing the role of a guy who liked to seduce older women.
“Say, did you know they had to use their fingers to communicate on computers back then?”
‘Facile’ nodded. “Barbaric, not to mention inefficient.”
As they walked, Wong placed his hand on the man’s forearm, squeezing sufficiently to transfer a few microscopic beads into a receptacle in Facile’s skin that would dissolve the bead and break down the contents to find a bank account number in a secret lunar location.
If the man wasn’t Facile, the bead would disintegrate in a few minutes through body heat.
They stopped in front of a display of a perpetual desk calendar bearing the logo of a defunct cosmetics company.
Facile turned to Wong. “That’s a lovely ring. May I see it?”
Wong held up his hand to Facile’s.
Facile grasped Wong’s hand long enough for their microcurrent circuits to exchange verification of Facile’s decoding the bank account info.
“How about I take a raincheck on that drink?”
Wong nodded.
After Facile walked away, Wong made his way to the exit, stepping into a special taxi that allowed him to upload the evening’s info to his self back home, reactivate it, and incinerate the version in the backseat of the taxi, the parts reusable by the next investigative journalist disguised as a gov’t agent disguised as dis guy in dese guys’ disguise.
treetrunkdings 