Read Upgrade for Free Online Page B

written in big red letters above a wide metal door, other languages written in smaller type underneath it.   They all said the same thing, more or less — get lost, go away, this is not the door you’re looking for .   It’d be bad press if Apsel gunned down some throwback who couldn’t read English.   Automated turrets looked down on him from behind razor wire, tracking his progress.   “Those things creep me out.”
    “It’s protocol.”
    “Each one is like its own little eye of Sauron.”
    “The eye of…   Oh.”   Carter paused.   “I didn’t know you read.   Fiction, I mean.”
    “Christ, Carter.   I’m not some kind of barbarian.   I read books.”
    “Books without pictures?”
    “Go fuck yourself.”
    “Don’t listen to what they say about you.   I’ve always said there was more to you than—”
    “Carter.”
    “What?   Get out there.   Join a book club or something.”
    “Hey.”   Mason pulled the bike to a halt in front of the door.   Green light washed over him as lasers imaged him and the bike — just a last-minute check, right?   He remembered Smith-Benne, who’d come back with a small detonator on his car.   They’d relied on perimeter radar back then.   Mason had been on the investigative crew — they hadn’t found all of Smith-Benne’s body.   “One more thing.”
    “What is it, Mason?”
    “Thanks, Carter.   I appreciate you…   Your help.”
    There was a pause before she said, “Sure thing, Mason.   Anytime.”   The link clicked out.
    Mason tapped his fingers against the handlebars.   With a clank, the doors started to open, yellow rotating warning lights licking the walls around him.   When it was high enough he gave the throttle a small twist, entering the belly of the Apsel building.   Even at this hour it was busy, techs moving around, servicing vehicles, loading munitions, and waving clipboards at each other.   He wove the bike through the people and machines, pulling up short to let an enforcer clank in front of him.   It stopped with a hiss of hydraulics, torso swiveling to face him.   He looked up past the spread wings of the Apsel falcon and to the weapon launchers on its arms, then into its face.   “Harry.   How you doing?”
    “Pretty good, Mason.”   Harry pivoted, articulated feet clanking against the ground.   “Just in for a service.”
    “Rough night?”
    “It’s the rain, man.”   Harry’s voice echoed out through the room, and lights flickered up his chest plate.   A red one was pulsing insistently.   “I don’t know how you norms handle it.”
    “Thought you guys weren’t hit by it?”
    “The visions?”
    “Sure.”
    “Yeah, got no problems with the visions.   Sealed up nice and tight in here.   No, this is plain ol’ acid rain, Mason.”
    “I’ve got a rain coat.”   Mason shrugged and his helmet lapped back into his collar.   “Still.   I’m in for a check up too.   Maybe some sleep, if I can scrape up the time.”
    “Ha.”   Harry shrugged, big metal shoulders moving up and down with a whine.   “If you’d do the conversion—”
    “No way, man.”   Mason nodded towards Harry’s mid section.   “I like eating too much.”
    “It’s not that bad.   You never have to wonder whether your diet’s low-carb or not.”
    Mason snorted.   “Sure, whatever.   Take it easy, hey?”
    “You got it.   Have a better one.”   With a hiss Harry swiveled away and clanked across the bay.   Mason kicked the bike back into gear and let it purr itself towards an empty park.
    He stepped away from it.   “Park it.   Service mode.”   A brief flash came from the instrumentation on the dash, then the bike eased down, the rimless hubs pulling in towards the chassis.   Mason grinned to himself — no matter how many times he saw it, it reminded him of some kind of animal stretching, his bike doing yoga’s Downward Dog .   The armored fairing flared wide, exposing the fusion drive, other