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Description
The scene: A high society party in Stardweller space. Two friends from the Masquerade, Kambu and Tinga, are talking when one of them notices something amiss.

K: “Oh. My. God.”

T: “What it is, Kambu?”

K: “That guy over there. The one moving in on the faerie princess looking girl.”

T (not paying attention): “Yeah, so? You don’t even like her.”

K (turns Tinga towards the person): “I don’t care about her! Look at him. He was on the news last week.”

T (looks): “Ohmygod you’re right! That’s the guy!”

Enter Fu Wren, a Stardweller and the Masqeraders’ local friend.

FW: “Hey guys. How’s the party?”

T: “Fu you’re not going to believe it. That guy over there is the Massacre Architect.”

Fu Wren accesses the infosphere to figure out who they’re talking about. The Massacre Architect is Jerzy Khemovak, a Tao sociopath talented in psychohistory, who nudged events over the course of a year to create a riot in a visitor’s center in Mechanican space.

FW: “Who, the guy in the black suit and blue twinkles? No way.”

K: “Fu, seriously, that’s him.”

FW: “No he’s not. First off, the Massacre Architect was captured four days ago. Second, he’s four inches taller. Third, he’s a Taoist — that guy is obviously Independent. Fourth, his skin tone and facial features are completely off. It’s a different guy.”

T: “Look I’m telling you, that’s him. Look at his walk! Look at the way he’s looking at her! Totally him.”

K: “I’m calling the cops.”

FW: “No, guys, please, don’t bust up a perfectly good party for this. That can’t possibly be him-”

K: “Called ‘em.”

FW: “Damnit, Kambu...”

Fu Wren looks over at the man and worries, coiling his long tail and picking at his claws. The man and the woman he’s sweet-talking link arms and wander off towards the punch.

T: “Look, we can tell. We saw a whole twenty realtime-miutes of this guy’s testimony. I know him like you know your brother.”

FW: “My brother is eight meters long and covered in mother-of-pearl scales.”

K: “And my sister looks different and acts different every other time I see her. When she’s a her. Which she usually is.”

FW: “Aw man, here they are... I’m going to have to explain all of-”

The police enter through the side door. One of them looks towards Kambu, having been sent his appearance and infosphere identifier tags when he called. Kambu points towards the apparently occupied man at the punch bowl. The police nod and start sliding up to him. When they get halfway across the room, one of the other partygoers releases a huge burst of data through the infosphere, large enough for everyone to feel. Each of the man’s footprints releases clouds of black gnats, and the revelers shift almost instantly into damage control mode. When the mental static and nanoreplicators clear, the man is gone, with the police in hot pursuit. Some have stayed behind to detain the packet bomber, torn half apart by the nanophage.

FW (with jaw dropped): “Holy...”

T: “Told you.”

Description
The scene: A high society party in Stardweller space. Two friends from the Masquerade, Kambu and Tinga, are talking when one of them notices something amiss.

K: “Oh. My. God.”

T: “What it is, Kambu?”

K: “That guy over there. The one moving in on the faerie princess looking girl.”

T (not paying attention): “Yeah, so? You don’t even like her.”

K (turns Tinga towards the person): “I don’t care about her! Look at him. He was on the news last week.”

T (looks): “Ohmygod you’re right! That’s the guy!”

Enter Fu Wren, a Stardweller and the Masqeraders’ local friend.

FW: “Hey guys. How’s the party?”

T: “Fu you’re not going to believe it. That guy over there is the Massacre Architect.”

Fu Wren accesses the infosphere to figure out who they’re talking about. The Massacre Architect is Jerzy Khemovak, a Tao sociopath talented in psychohistory, who nudged events over the course of a year to create a riot in a visitor’s center in Mechanican space.

FW: “Who, the guy in the black suit and blue twinkles? No way.”

K: “Fu, seriously, that’s him.”

FW: “No he’s not. First off, the Massacre Architect was captured four days ago. Second, he’s four inches taller. Third, he’s a Taoist — that guy is obviously Independent. Fourth, his skin tone and facial features are completely off. It’s a different guy.”

T: “Look I’m telling you, that’s him. Look at his walk! Look at the way he’s looking at her! Totally him.”

K: “I’m calling the cops.”

FW: “No, guys, please, don’t bust up a perfectly good party for this. That can’t possibly be him-”

K: “Called ‘em.”

FW: “Damnit, Kambu...”

Fu Wren looks over at the man and worries, coiling his long tail and picking at his claws. The man and the woman he’s sweet-talking link arms and wander off towards the punch.

T: “Look, we can tell. We saw a whole twenty realtime-miutes of this guy’s testimony. I know him like you know your brother.”

FW: “My brother is eight meters long and covered in mother-of-pearl scales.”

K: “And my sister looks different and acts different every other time I see her. When she’s a her. Which she usually is.”

FW: “Aw man, here they are... I’m going to have to explain all of-”

The police enter through the side door. One of them looks towards Kambu, having been sent his appearance and infosphere identifier tags when he called. Kambu points towards the apparently occupied man at the punch bowl. The police nod and start sliding up to him. When they get halfway across the room, one of the other partygoers releases a huge burst of data through the infosphere, large enough for everyone to feel. Each of the man’s footprints releases clouds of black gnats, and the revelers shift almost instantly into damage control mode. When the mental static and nanoreplicators clear, the man is gone, with the police in hot pursuit. Some have stayed behind to detain the packet bomber, torn half apart by the nanophage.

FW (with jaw dropped): “Holy...”

T: “Told you.”