Free Toys by James Patterson Page B

had something mysterious happened to her? If so, what was it?
I needed to find out why nobody had seen eleven murders.
    The woman was talking to a salesclerk, so I’d have to wait for a chance to pull her aside. That wasn’t good—I wanted to get
     out of here
now.
    Meantime, there were security personnel posted all around the lobby floor. I couldn’t just stand there looking like a police
     investigator. So I walked to the nearest bank of SimStims and picked out a diversion that was consistent with my general appearance.
    “Rock the Cosmos!” the display flashed, throbbing with the loud treble and hammering bass of the latest fad, “sycho” music.
    I set the timer for ninety seconds and slipped on the helmet.
    And man, did I ever rock! I was strutting around the huge stage, surrounded by a crowd that went on as far as I could see—a
     hundred thousand fans at least. They were waving their arms and dancing to the wild pulse of the music—and it was all about
me.
I was the center of attention, the target of all the screaming and adoration!
Not so bad,
I had to admit. Certainly better than being chased around by the police and the Agency.
    One of the huge amplifiers suddenly exploded, showering the spectators, and me, with debris. The crowd cheeredlouder, danced even closer to the stage, screamed the lyrics along with my vocals—
    Abruptly, the concert was gone—and I was standing alone in the sound booth.
    “Presented by Toyz Corporation,” a blinking message stated. “We hope you enjoyed—”
    I wheeled around, tugging off the helmet. Honestly, I had been lost in the moment!
    Then I looked for the witness.
    It was a little disorienting, and dizzying, what you experienced after a SimStim even as brief as that. Could that be good
     for you? Especially for people who used SimStims as much as ten to fifteen hours a day?
    Finally, I spotted the female witness, alone now, moving up an escalator. I managed to catch up to her on the mezzanine floor.
     I needed to be careful.
    “So, did you ever get one of those iSpielberg imagers?” I asked.
    She turned and looked at me, slightly confused. “Umm—do I know you?”
    “We talked the other night. Don’t you remember? After the murders.”
    “Murders? Oh. Here at the store, right? So terrible. Mindless violence.”
    “I’m Ben,” I said, trying not to show surprise at her detachment. “You? Your name is?”
    “It’s Chuzie. I’m Chuzie.”
    “Chuzie, like—”
    “Like I’m
choosy
about, well, all sorts of things,” she said, looking me up and down, apparently approving of something.
    “So what happened? What did you see? The night of the murders?” I asked her.
    “Why are you asking
me?
I don’t understand. You said you were there too.”
    “I know. That’s the really strange part. I’m having trouble remembering any of it myself.”
    Chuzie nodded her head several times. Then she frowned, looking confused again. “You know, I had this crazy
dream
about the murders…”
    “What happened—in the dream?” I asked, gesturing for her to sit on the edge of an XRBed—a magnetic-field-assisted mattress
     that exercised your muscles while you slept.
    “Well, there were a lot of city cops everywhere. I believe the Agency was here too. And something else I can’t quite remember.”
     Her shoulders twitched in a little shiver. “Whatever it was, it was bad.”
    This was ridiculous. Why would a civilian, an Elite, be going to such lengths to distance herself from the truth?
    “Chuzie, people were killed. You were standing right next to them. I saw you. Don’t you remember anything?”
    She was biting her lower lip furiously, starting to look a little scared. “In the dream there was all of this screaming. Then
     blood everywhere.”
    “Did anybody
say
anything? Do you remember any of the faces? The attackers?”
    “A human… with a big knife. A machete? He was—hewas cutting off someone’s
head.
And he said, ‘Now we’ll find out what you