He will find you, the man at Void's Edge had said.

  Well, we were ready to be found. I disembarked with @zerogstar, @foxcutter, and @bitchfrog to accompany me, leaving @astrowave to tend to the ship and to Sango while monitoring our progress. It wasn't ideal. I wanted @astrowave with us too, but there wasn't supposed to be any fighting. This was a business deal, and I needed my hackers with me.

  Las Vegastroid is huge, but we just needed to be visible, so we hit the main strip. From the docking area, it's a quick light rail train ride to the eastern edge and most populous area. I had no doubt that whomever was expecting us would be monitoring the ship arrivals and departures. They'd be looking at private ships. With any luck, they'd find us quickly. Trust the system, I told myself.

  "There are dozens and dozens of shoe stores," @foxcutter said. "If we go for the literal idea that the Shoemaker makes shoes, then we should look for custom shoes, probably ancient civilizations, Earth themed. All the others would be generic shoes that are just branded."

  "That's a good idea," @bitchfrog said. "Maybe we should ask a guide where we can find ancient shoes."

  I find the human brain fascinating. I had the same thought, but not to actually ask a guide. I forget sometimes that I just query the Extronet whenever I want, most of the time not even realizing that I'm doing it. But they did have guides here, probably to help aiways lean into their authenticity more or for the occasional human group. I even saw a tourist package that catered to the offline experience of Las Vegastroid, where the whole point is to be unplugged and take in the wonders in a human way. That was pretty clever.

  "I see a few dozen online," I noted. "All of them are cultural, with shoes from Mexico, Italy, Rome, Japan, the Netherlands, Spain, Russia, except for the robotic foot and shoe replacement exhibit in Machineland. Anyone want a robotic foot?"

  That was a resounding No from everyone. However, the idea of not having to clip my stinky toenails anymore appealed to me. "You wouldn't have to clip your toenails anymore," I said aloud, expressing my thoughts.

  "I enjoy taking care of my feet," @zerogstar shared.

  "Me too," added @bitchfrog. "I probably couldn't get a robotic foot as a human, but if I did, then who would give me a foot rub or a pedicure."

  "I paint my toenails," blurted @foxcutter. "It's relaxing."

  And so I suddenly wondered what was wrong with me that my three companions all enjoyed taking care of their feet, whereas I viewed mine as a stinky disgusting mess. I decided I would try some foot hygiene to see if maybe I was just missing out on the fun. Otherwise, I had to figure I was genetically predisposed to nasty feet. I pulled up my growing list of personal missions and added, Follow a Foot Hygiene Routine for Six Months. That should be sufficient, I thought. I could get a Pamper Bot for the ship. The crew would like that.

  I missed part of their conversation. The three of them were comparing toenail colors and brands.

  "... I tried that brand but they flaked a lot," @foxcutter was saying.

  "Yes, they do!" @bitchfrog excitedly agreed. "What do you use?"

  "Try Toetal Nails," @foxcutter instructed. "That one's great. I just wish they had more colors. They only have a few shades of the orange I like."

  "If you want more variety, check out Dream Footage," @zerogstar said. "They have a bunch of colors, but they also have a paint that forms a video display. You can program it to project different colors, videos, you know. I know it sounds very gimmicky, but it actually works. Sometimes I just relax on my bed with my toes up and watch different shows on my toes."

  "How do you pay attention to all of them?" @bitchfrog asked.

  "It depends on the shows. Usually it's one show that I'm watching and I keep sporting events, spaceball and such, in the background to see what's happening." She put her hand on @bitchfrog's shoulder. "I have to admit, it's much easier too, for me, being an aiways to process everything. But still, it's cool. When I have them painted with video polish, I keep the display off most of the time. Otherwise, my toes heat up."

  "Ooh, I like warm toes," @foxcutter ruminated. "When I'm cold, at least."

  And on and on. My goodness, they geeked out about foot care, then hand care and manicures, and all the various brands for nearly forty minutes while we cooked under the fake sun and heat of Las Vegastroid. I just tried to focus on getting us to the old Earth sector with the various shoe types, navigating the busy streets of tourists, only kind of wondering how stinky my feet were compared to theirs.

  We made our way to the Afterlife district, with various interpretations of Heaven, Hell, and Purgatory. As much as I wanted to spend time in the Elysian Fields talking with AI recreations of ancient Greeks, I again reminded myself that we didn't have time to waste. We would hopefully survive long enough for some fun later, if that was even possible. I waved at Socrates, or Aristotle, or some Greek person, who held up a wax tablet and motioned for me to join the crowd of people sitting down to listen, but onward we marched.

  A choir of angels on the other side of the street was competing for our attention, singing a decent rendition of "Sinnerman" with members of the choir scatting out the drum, cymbals, and piano portions of the music. It added to my sense of urgency, making me want to run for the devil and check out the Las Vegastroid recreation of Hell in all its fury.

  "I bet they do an awesome Hell here," I said aloud. "Fire, dance, cool demons."

  @bitchfrog gave me a terrified look that resembled her mood. "That sounds horrible!"

  I shook my head side to side. "Yeah, I suppose that could be scary."

  I should have been nervous, a little scared, when a woman with brown swirling hair suddenly approached us, right on queue with thinking about the Demons of Hell. But honestly, I was more relieved at the time.

  We had just started going from nail polish remover to decorative fingernails, with @zerogstar bringing up quantum gel press-on nails. I had absolutely nothing to contribute to the conversation.

  "Epoxy resign polymer," the woman said, holding up her hand and showing off a series of long nails with a sparkling rose pink and cream color. "Nano nails will grow back, but who can afford that. These are top of the line polymer. I could practically cut through bone with these and you'd never know the difference."

  "Unless you were the one being cut to the bone," I jested, assessing how much of a threat this woman was.

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  The way she smiled at my comment didn't put my mind at ease, and I had no doubt she was capable of violence when required. She wore a pair of simple pleated charcoal gray dress pants, an expensive pair of dark oak clogs, and a crisp white blouse with round lapels that matched her dolphin-shaped earrings. I caught the scent of mint and honey flowing through the air from her direction, masking a faint smell of natural sweat. Even someone in more elegant attire and better working conditions couldn't avoid the artificially imposed heat of Las Vegastroid.

  I myself was wearing a thin stretchy pair of blue jeans even though shorts would have been a better choice, along with a long-sleeved navy blue shirt. I did that only because I wanted to cover up the ARM, and I was accumulating a good amount of sweat around my chest and armpits. My crew, on the other hands, was in shorts, t-shirts, sandals, and sunglasses, looking just like your average tourist here on this space rock.

  "You must be @wrench," she said, correctly addressing me.

  "Yes, indeed," I responded. I motioned as casually as I could at @bitchfrog and @zerogstar. "These two would like a private tour if you have openings." I figured that was as subtle as I could muster in the situation.

  "Perhaps. We can talk more at our office. Please follow me."

  Luckily, we didn't walk for long. Our guest, who finally introduced herself as @finamina, waved down an electric buggy that drove us the rest of the way, allowing us to enjoy the wind in our faces. The breeze didn't dry as much of the sweat as I had hoped, but I was glad for it. The vehicle was self driving but leaned on the aggressive side, beeping and weaving its way to our destination in a manner that kept us entertained, particularly when an unsuspecting tourist would amble out unaware only to be greeted by an obnoxious horn blast.

  The buggy slowed as we approached a canal and a series of windmills and cottage houses.

  "Welcome to the Dutch Republic," an announcement sounded, as a holographic display popped up, walking us through a brief history lesson, courtesy of the Solar Historic Society. "The Republic of the Seven United Netherlands was famous for its shipbuilding and economic trade via the largest maritime fleet of its era, including the Dutch East India Company (VOC) and the Dutch West India Company (WIC). Did you know the Dutch Republic established one of the earliest Stock Exchanges? Not only was it a force economically, but with the mastery of wind power, this nation of unified provinces became a manufacturing center, capable of building ships with unprecedented speed and quality."

  We also learned that the Dutch were masters of reclaiming land from water, essentially turning large areas of water into habitable land through dikes, polders, and landfilling, with piles driven into the ground to support sand and clay areas. This was key to the expansion of old Earth's New Amsterdam and ultimately New York City.

  "I'm sorry," @finamina said, clapping her hands to get our attention as we stared at the educational holograph, "but we do need to get moving."

  They were about to explain how the windmills work. And yes, I could just look it up on the Extronet, but this was a curated video, and it properly captured the attention of just about any tourist, even those of us here on business.

  "We won't be able to stop at the Windmills or the cheese shops," @finamina explained with a genuine frown. "They are very amazing, and the cheese is fantastic! But, we are on a schedule. You can alway stop in later when we've concluded our business. We'll even give you a voucher for $25 qcoins off any purchase at one of the quaint little shops."

  She pointed at the row of cottages. "We have two original cottages and one original windmill. People actually live in these. And we tried to use aiways with origins that have family ancestry tied to the region for the most authentic experience. Later, you can talk to @millerjaap, the cheesemaker. He's hilarious!"

  Her smile made me believe her, but as we entered the cobblestone streets along the canal, walking toward the windmills and shops, the pit in my stomach started to creep up. This was it. This was the place.

  I noticed that the weather changed once we were in the Dutch Republic, taking on a cooler climate with the scent of a fake ocean and artificial horizon. The reprieve from the heat was phenomenal at first. It felt like the air itself had particles of water infused in it. But the more we walked, the more I was grateful for my long sleeves. I noticed goosebumps on @bitchfrog's arms, and while some of them were probably fear induced, I could tell the chill was getting to her, to all of them.

  "Did you turn on your toes?" I asked @zerogstar, as we ogled the enormous teal windmill nearby. She nodded, not taking her eyes off the massive thing with its spinning blades.

  "That one crushes rock into paint pigments," @finamina said. "There's a tour every hour on the hour."

  But just like the cheese shops, we walked past the windmills as well, toward a building that had an enormous yellow clog shoe outside, surrounded by more little cottage houses.

  Instead of going through the main entrance, @finamina took us around the side, over a little rock bridge and smaller stream from the canals. We followed the path to the back of the building and an old chainlink fence that looked crooked and in a state of disrepair. A garden hose was lying nearby next to a soiled bucket. The whole area in the back of the building was muddy and shoddy looking.

  Just by appearance alone, any tourist would be deterred, but there was also a distinct smell of urine and feces from this part of the canal. In the cloudy and damp environment, the smell seemed to hang in the air. I imagined that it was from a sewage line, draining from an outhouse or the cottages perhaps. Whatever it was, it was gross.

  I didn't think it was necessary, but they had also hung a large sign that read, Service Entrance. Visitors Not Allowed. @finamina ignored the sign, approaching the chainlink gate like it was just another typical day, never easing off the cool smile on her face. She unlocked the gate and led us inside.

  @foxcutter followed immediately behind, with @bitchfrog and @zerogstar in the middle, and I took my place at the rear. The first ten paces or so were dark and the entrance was cramped, a small tunnel. Then we hit a dim light and a small staircase that rose up into a brighter room, a chilly room with a wood-burning furnace in the corner.

  We sat on small stools, fixed firmly to the ground, facing a railing. Beyond the railing was a number of old mechanical instruments, wooden blocks, and rows of unfinished clogs. This was some kind of clog-making workshop or demonstration, I guessed.

  We settled in to wait, but no sooner had we sat when @zerogstar popped back up and approached the railing.

  She couldn't help herself. Her fascination with Earth antiques got the better of her, and she must have forgotten she was supposed to be a prisoner, here to be sold.

  I was too slow to react. @finamina zapped her in the neck with a device she had hidden in her right wrist.

  "A bit wild, this one," she commented, walking over to the twitching and unconscious form of @zerogstar on the sawdust covered floor.

  I don't like the feeling of hate. It makes me want to destroy things. As kind and pleasant as the outward demeanor of @finamina was, I knew her in that moment to be a horrible person. I had to remind myself that these were atrocious people, the worst kind I had encountered. They should all be deleted from existence.

  I steadied my heart rate while my mind rushed through computations. I needed to figure out how to take control of the situation and explain @zerogstar's behavior. I motioned for the others to stay seated - @bitchfrog looked like she was going to vomit - and I walked over to @finamina.

  "They don't know why we're here," I explained in a low voice. "Makes it easier. The easiest prisoner to control is the one who thinks they're free."

  "That's clever," she acknowledged. "I suppose I've let the cat out of the bag, so they say."

  I shrugged. "Maybe."

  "Well, the Shoemaker will decide what happens next," she whispered back to me.

  Then she addressed all of us. "Please remain seated. I'm sorry for the disturbance, but these are extremely valuable artifacts. This is a private collection, and you are special guests. However, as special as you are, the same rules apply. Do not touch."

  @finamina pointed at a sign that said the same. Then she climbed over the railing to the other side and walked to the wall, pressing a button that raised a glass barrier between our room and the Shoemaker's shop.

  "That machine there," she said, calling out the machine on the far right, with two long handles, a grinder of some sort, and a clog mounted on one of the extensions. Her voice was slightly muted from the glass, but a microphone projected it through speakers into our side of the room. "It can hollow out a piece of wood to fit the inner form of a clog. It can also hollow out a person's head. Have you ever wanted to walk around with human heads for shoes? We could do that pretty easily."

  That was more in line with what I was expecting. No business deal in the underworld is without its corresponding notion of torture and death.

  She flashed a honey-sweet, sinister smile. "The Shoemaker will be with you shortly."

  Then she walked through another door on the far side, hitting a switch that locked us inside.