Synopses & Reviews
Chapter One
White-hot fog. It boiled over the halogen-lighted streets--scalding to look at but cool against the skin.
Kasuo van Dijk pulled his overcoat tighter against the dank mist, shut the door to his unmarked car, and stepped onto gritty concrete.
This part of North Beach was philmed in classic noir. Most of the storefronts and apartment building facades were a melange of grays and blacks lifted from The Maltese Falcon, Raw Deal, and half a dozen other celluloids from the 1930s and '40s. In places, some of the architectural and decorative elements had been colorized. Vivid greens, reds, and blues bled from the shadows, saturating the landscape with flamboyant contusions of color borrowed from Romare Bearden and Warhol.
Nothing was ever what it seemed, he reminded himself. Nor was it otherwise.
A few blocks east of Hyde, toward Telegraph Hill, the decor changed abruptly to the delirious exuberance of Gaudi and Hundertwasser. Organic transmogrifications not unlike the Peter Max-, Bob Masse-, and Roger Dean-fueled psychedelia of Haight-Ashbury. To the southwest, van Dijk could just make out the staid browns and clean, if somewhat stark, Edward Hopper lines of Pacific Heights.
Van Dijk took a moment to philm himself in a composite image of Toshir Mifune, from Kurosawa's Yojimbo, and Hiroyuki Sanada from Yaji Yamada's The Twilight Samurai. The pseudoself--humble demeanor hiding implacable, barely restrained violence--was what people not only expected from him, given his first name, but respected. It was part of the job, like wearing a tie and an HK 9mm minicentrifuge.
He started toward the small brick-and-corrugated-sheet-plastic warehouse that had been converted into low-income apartments. A uniformed officer stood guard outside the first-floor entrance, the tip of a cigarette flaring from time to time like the beacon in a lighthouse.
The uniform's name appeared in front of him: Kohl, Peter. Van Dijk cleared the eyefeed with a quick mental Delete and turned his gaze on the street cop.
Detective. Kohl pulled himself out of his slouch.
Who else is here? van Dijk asked.
My partner. Janakowski. He's inside, waiting for you and the crime-scene boyz to show. Kohl took a final calming pull on his Hongtasan, then flicked it nervously away. The butt hissed as it arced to the ground, sputtering out before it struck the damp concrete. Oily steam snaked up from a half-empty cup of black coffee at his feet.
Who found the body?
One of the residents. Kohl blinked as he accessed an online police log. Girl named Lisette, he said, reading from the plog. Age eleven. Lives in the apartment just down the hall, supposedly with her mother. But Mom ain't around. Hasn't been for a while, by the look of it.
The victim's apartment was on the second floor. Van Dijk checked the elevator for obvious evidence. It was out of order. That left the stairs. Stairwells tended to collect all kinds of DNA-marinated detritus. Cigarette butts, half-empty plastic bottles, crushed cups, pinched bubble caps, shattered eye droppers, and dermadots for those who couldn't afford or didn't want direct deposit via mechemical assembly. As he mounted the concrete steps, a number of crumpled candy wrappers chir
Synopsis
In a world where image is everything, where the past is more real than the present, the rich can reprogram everything–and cast themselves in the starring roles. Everyone else is nothing but an extra....
As part of the supporting cast, Pelayo survives as a test subject for the latest electronic skin and philm technology, which brings past trends and famous people to vivid life on his body. His cousin Marta works at a cinematique offering cheap skincense, image grafts, and nanimatronics. That’s where she meets Nadice, an indentured worker smuggling illegal ware to escape an exclusive resort specializing in kitschy environs. But Nadice is hiding something far more contraband: a forbidden pregnancy she can’t explain but is determined to protect. When Marta tries to help, both women disappear.
While Pelayo searches for his cousin, homicide detective Kasuo van Dijk investigates a mysterious death that may involve a new kind of e-skin–mass-mediated ware that will lead him to Marta, Nadice, her employer–and a diabolical plan to deliver humanity kicking and screaming into a frightening new age of information....
Synopsis
Mark Budz lives in northern California with his wife, fellow author Marina Fitch. His short stories have appeared in Amazing Stories and The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction. He is the author of four novels, Clade, Crache, Idolon, and, most recently, Till Human Voices Wake Us.
Synopsis
MARK BUDZ lives in northern California with his wife, fellow author Marina Fitch. His short stories have appeared in Amazing Stories and The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction. His first two novels, Clade and Crache, were published by Bantam Spectra in December 2003 and November 2004, respectively.
From the Paperback edition.
Synopsis
Used as a test subject for the latest electronic and philm technology, Pelayo risks everything to find his cousin, Marta, who had come to the aid of Nadice, an indentured worker and smuggler hiding a forbidden pregnancy, after both women mysteriously vanish, while homicide detective Kasuo van Dijk investigates a related death that may involve a new kind of e-skin. Original.