Transference

With his mind going overdrive, considering all the pros and cons, Frank could not show what he actually wanted to work on to Bob. Firsty, because the old man was involved with his fathers death, more than likely, and that too because of greed. How else would the blueprint his father worked on right before his death be here, in Bobs workshop, and not in the hands of his mom and him? Clearly the old mercenary hoped he could gleam some sort of an inspiration from the plans, or maybee he could actually make it work. Who knew just who else now had access to this schematic, using it to try and create new and better VI's.

Frank knew that it would not lead to any proper AI, but a decent Virtual Intelegence? That was an entirely different story. He did not have to dig deep into "The Book", no his own knowledge and life long tampering with codes was enough to find at least a couple of different aproaches to getting a nasty VI working. He reasoned it would take him no more than a yearand he could theoretically sell such a program for quite the pretty peny. Of course, earning a target on his back at the same time. He was sure that quite a few of the latest VI's on the market, shoudl he go and dig deep into their code, would turn out to be based on this exact base code. So it would take no time at all for the corporations behind said VI's to do the same. What would follow would be a robbery gone wrong and thats it. No more Frank among the living.

Still, a problem now had to be solved before he continiued with his own plans. A problem in the form of old Bob. No, he was not planning a way to ice the old man. While outwardly quite calm and emotionless, if his contemporaries were asked, Frank had never been one of the bullies, or delinquints. His mind was more in line with avoiding and misdirrecting any incoming problems, not breaking them over his knee or fist. That attitude of his was what had kept him out of trouble for the most part so far, and he could not change his mindset without some extreme conditions.

So, he rummaged in his mind, going through any of his own knowledge and some of his ideas, finding one that was deffinetly a dead end, thanks to his otherworldly knowledge, and decided to use that. So, with the decoy decided, he 'came out of his momentary daze', and returned his focus on the older man in front of him.

"So, what is that niffty idea of yours you want to work on? Who knows, I might be able to even help out." Bob spoke, a glint of greed and desire in his eyes, though it was so momentary, anyone with a normal brain would have missed it. Not Frank though. He saw that brief moment of the mans true personality surfacing, once again reaffirming his decision to not reveal anything he knew to this man.

Still, it was not like he could just wave the man off and stroll out of the place. No, that would draw even more suspicion, so Frank moved to the table in the middle of the workshop, pulled out a sheet of paper together with a pencil from his backpack, and proceeded to sketch a small model on it. It was a dud, at the end of the day, but without actual physical construction and tests it would be impossible to tell that. All thanks to a couple of laws of physics that were still not defined in their world. Laws that Frank was now aware of, making him the only person who could actually make it work eventually with quite a few changes in its design, though not something that could come about natturaly, without said knowledge. Once again, it went against any of the logical paths a mind of his time would take. It was quite the blessing. Having such knowledge allowed Frank to look at everything in his life with a fresh perspective, giving him more and more ideas on how he could actually improve things all around him.

Once he was finished with the general shematic, he pointed to it, well aware of Bob's expertise in the field, not needing to explain everything.

"While it is a solid piece of tech, I have a glaring suspicion something does not add up. While the math behind it is solid, there seems to be a something missing. And I cant, for the life of me. figure it out." his voice conveyed a deeper though, as well an irritation with the inability to solve his own problem. Bob spent a few minutes going over it,sometimes raising an eyebrow, other times furrowing it, clearly doing his own math, checking the feasability of what was in front of him. Unlike Frank though, Bob did not know for sure it would not work, or why not, thus the man had quite the thoughtfull expression on his face.

"Hmm, yes. Such a device, if it indeed works, could move cut its own place in the market with relative ease. It does require quite the precise touch. Nor can it be made in the factories where everything is mechanized." He thought for a moment. "Tell you what kiddo, i will make a prototype of it for you. If it works, he he, dont forget the old Bob when the dough starts rolling in. If it does not, well, at least you have the concept ready. Eventually you should be able to figure it out."

Frank, hearing those words smiled, though for an entirely different reason than what Bob believed. Where Bob though that Frank, as the young man that he was, was overjoyed by fact he could have an expert mechanic like Bob put it together, not having to tinker with it himself, Frank was smiling for an entirely different reason. Having seen Bob's greedy before, he had a rather high expectation that the old mechanic would go ahead and declare the patent of the device as his own, effectively burning any futuire cooperation between them on his own accord. That was the action a man who would be an acomplice in a friends death over half finished project would be. This would work as quite the confirmation of Bob's involvement in his father's death as well, should the old man act as Frank predicted he would.

"Oh, you sure?" Frank asked the man back, the smile adorning his face.

"Of course. Not like I have much better things to do. So, what sayd you?"

"If you dont mind doing so, I would be gratefull."

"Sure, sure. No problem kiddo. So, anything else in that head of yours?"

"Hmm? No, this has been eating all my time for quite a while. Thought I would have to work on it for the forseeable future as well."

"Well, since I have you covered, why dont you go home and take care of your mother, what with you having a sudden opening of free time. She sure as hell deserves it."

"Hmm, yes, I will do that then. Thank you Bob. Give my mother a call once its all done and ready, okey?"

"Will do kiddo, will do." Bob chuckled as the same greedy glint shone in his eyes for a moment as the old man moved to lead Frank back out of the workshop.

A few minutes later, Frank was on the street, just outside Bob's shop, with the old mechanic back inside, no doubt already in his workshop, pouring over the schematic, either planning out the process of crafting, or declaring it under his own name in the patent bureau website. Frank sure as hell hoped it was the latter. The sooner the man revealed his colors the easier it would be to quarantine him from both his, and his mom's lifes. Gloria would no doubt take it quite hard, should everything go as Frank asumed it was going to, but there was no helping it. He himself was not aware of the mans nature before today, thus forcing him to plan on the go. And no matter how painfull this betrayal would sting his mom in the short term, should it happen, it was a much safer option than keeping him around, never knowing when the man would stab their family in the back, AGAIN. Still, with the workshop out of the question, and a schematic for an semi AI in his mind, his next step was quite self apparent.

He would have to cook up a blank personal computer, without any of the corpo bugs and failsafes, and then program it. Then, get it online and have it work its magic, amasssing curency and assets for his future projects. It would take a few months sure, but it was the best and safest way to proceed as of right now. So, with a plan of action sort of set up, he moved ahead, though the dirrection was not towards his home. No, he had another place to visit. The junkyard.

A large junkyard at the edge of the town, where most of the old tech was moved, before it was dismantled and sent off to factories to recycle and create new stuff. It was also the largest market of used and aged parts, salvaged from all the discarded appliances. Each and every single tech enthusiast had been there at least once, buying some parts for cheap, hoping to be the Davinchi of the current times and create something beyond the current times. It was there Frank could gather the parts needed, as the guys who run shop there were quite the pros with removing any and all bugs of the corporations the tech originated from, and even in the case of such bugs being missed, with his knowledge it would not be too hard to see the redundant and unneccessary sections of the parts he would be interested in.

With the neccesity clear, he moved with purpose again, to one of the safest places within the city that housed hundreds if million people, the mega gated corpo communites excluded, though some might argue that with all the cutthroat politics and company competition, those gated communities were just as dangeours, if not more, than the rest of the city, just that the threat to ones life took an entirely different shape. No, The Junkyard was a special place, a neutral zone within the city, where quite a lot of deals between the corporations, as well as the large gangs and the Hands were conducted.

Hands, yes, a rather unique term used in the Arganza city for a special kind of people. These guys were the big movers in the different city districts, each responsible for their own part of the city. if you had a problem that needed a solution, Hands were the guys, or gals in some cases, that you went to, provided you had the cash for it. There was nothing they could not solve. With all the connections and hands in near every pie within their territory, hence the name from, they had enough street cred and reputation among corporations, as well as a bunch of mercenaries looking to earn a living,one call away. The Hands were also supposed to be fairly neutral, as far as polotics and corpo competition was concerned, as well as with mouths as tightly shut, that no job that was handled through The Hands, would ever be leaked. Sure, there could be fuckups within the jobs, but those happened through accidents or incompetence of the mercenaries taking the job, and never had such failiures lead back to the clients. It was an established system. And if the target of such a job went to another Hand, to solve a possibility of a repeat, well, that just made the money go around more, in turn creating even more work for the budding proffesion that was the free mercenary force of the city.

There were no laws, at least not enforced ones, that prevented anyone from getting a gun, what with all the danger lurking around the city, though that automatically put you in the eyes of the gangs. None of those leeches liked armed people, bad for business. Cant run an honest racketeering if every other house and its residents were packing iron, now could you. It was much safer, in the long run, to just go without them, having to fork up a relatively small sum of money every now and then to be left alone, for the most part. The smarter of the startup gangs knew that, still, it only took a few drugged up idiots to get the big guys pissed off and come crashing down, once again returning to the cycle of the gangs.

So, The Junkyard was the neutral zone, and no matter how wild, or unhinged a group was, there were enough corpses and horror stories widely known, of those that ingored said status. The only place in the city, where not a single act of violence or agression was tolerated, ruled with an iron fist by a guy, going by the name of Sheppard. The name was a legend in the city. The first and only guy to ever achieve something of this magnitude, not backed by any corporation, or gang. Through hard work and sheer determination, as well as ruthlessness, he created a place where his word was the law, pure and simple.

No one had seen the man in over a decade, or so the rumors went, but that did not matter, since he stopped his expansion once 'The Junkyard' was established, as if his purpose was this little piece of land, and nothing else. Of course, the rather unique conditions of this place made it near worthless in the eyes of most gangs and corporations. How much value could be extracted from a little old metal and electronics junkyard? Though that was not the primary income source for the place these days. No, they earned a rather decent amount of money from all the corporations and gangs who conducted their business in said territory. It was a godsend to anyone who needed to form a quick, but proffitable deal with one of their competitors, to fuck over a third one. Said third one then. at a later date, would form a similar deal with the fourth, or fith one, against either of the first tow, or yet another, and so the circle went. The corporations were too big to fail, at least on the scale of one city, even if the very heart of the developed world.

So, Frank got on one of the few buses that moved through the city, 'The Junkyard', its destination, and closed his eyes as he worked over the plans of his. And then, it hit him.

'Why did I not think of it sooner?' he lambasted himself in his mind. The answer to all of his problems lied in his destination. All he needed to do was strike a deal with 'The Junkyard', through which he could get his 'inventions' both out in the world, as well secure a place where he could do the magic neccesary for all the stuff in his head. The only couple of issues he would have to figure out was the logistics, should he secure said deal, as well as ways to hide his frequent visits to the place. After all, should he secure said partnership, he would need to make constant visits to the place, no doubt creating a trail that any decent tracker would sniff out, once more and more cutting edge tech started to flow out of 'The Junkyard'.

Then, he would have to secure his mother as well, idealy having her drop her work, and go into an early retirement, and finally enjoy her life for once in a couple decades. 'I can provide schematics for them, there is no need for me to actually be there when they cook up the prototypes. My knowledge is surefire and guaranteed to work.' Frank though, a moment later realizing the odd surety he had regarding all this foreign knowledge at the far corners of his mind, as if he had seen and lived with all this tech out and about, though he had no actual memories of any foreign life. No he was undeniably only himself, just with a boatload of super advanced stuff in his head.

An hour later, he saw the change in the scenario. The countless sky rise appartment buildings and the countless offices replaced by a rather desolate sight, a rare one or two storry building here or there, surrounded by mountains of metal. Mountains that appeared and dissapeared yearly, always replaced by a new one. And all of that, behind the lareg walls that seperated the city from this iron fisted zone of peace and pure business.

An occasional visit, like he was doing now, would not be questioned by anyone, especially if they did a check on his background. A guy with knowledge of tech and rigs, going to fish for some parts to get a personal project of his started, or furtehr along the way? That was what most of the guys in his position did- slave away for some company, then, with what little money you had left over, get your hands on used tech parts and try to create something, that, hopefully, is worth more than your shitty job could ever provide. Sure, such success stories were few and far between, but the chance of it happening, as well as the sheer tenacity of a half desperate men, with big dreams, could work wonders. And wonders it did work, as indicated with the mostly full buss of such men, each and every one going over a list of things they hoped to find, or something to that accord.