The Puzzle was located on Pepper Street in the Isle of Dogs. The pub overlooked a black expanse of toxic hydrogen oxide along the Millwall Docks in the dilapidated East London area called the Dods. The Isle of Dogs, a water-bound tongue of marshland inside a dramatic u-bend ihames River, had at oime been transformed from historical wharves, dockyards and warehouses to swanky riverside residential plexes with stunning views of the river. That was a long time ago. Rising crime had seen a steady flow of residents bail out of the area as the surrounding black zones encroached from all dires. The area had since degeed into a haven for squatters, other forms of human parasite and Union freelancers boating or driving in from the ti.
At the docks, a few yards in front of The Puzzle, a few dilapidated-looking boats bobbed atop thick-looking oil-slick water. Most of them didn』t look seaworthy. Round the back of The Puzzle, within a perimeter of linked fence, Caldwell could make out a ramshackle cluster of mobile residences. He walked through the pub』s fake wood doors into a humid cloud of stale beer, cigarette smoke and rotting pub food. He wrinkled his nose and fought to suppress the urge to gag.
It was barely 7.00 AM but already a row ulars was already lined up along the expaal bar celebrating the New Year by knog back alcoholic breakfasts on Union social security money and staring at the pulsating pixels of a holographic stripper. Caldwell sed the unfamiliar faces and wondered if one of them was Glyph. None of them looked like hacker types. None of them had that hungry look of the digital floating world.
Caldwell moved towards a raised area at the back of the pub and slid into one of The Puzzle』s mock oak seats, away from the tele. He couldn』t stand idle versation or prolonged tact with people. He had to get a message to Glyph as quickly as possible. There was a burly Indian-looking guy behind the bar trying to look like he was keeping busy. Caldwell placed the knapsack between his legs, the bulk of the sole strangely reassuring.
The Puzzle was obviously a neighborhood pub. There was a disible sense of familiarity among its patrons. The man behind the bar was engaged in small talk with one of the ers who addressed him as Ram and requested a fresh pint of dark ale. The slur of the er』s voice suggested that his membership of alcoholionymous was long overdue. He looked like the seafaring type, an assortment of tattoos adorned flaccid white skin, captain of one of the fine vessels outside. Caldwell wondered whether Ram was short for Ramesh.
The man called Ram aowledged the er』s order with a nod of his head, the smoke from the cigarette hanging from the side of his mouth creating a temporary question mark in the air. He then disappeared behind the bar. A few seds later a robot shaped like an ied bucket came to life on the bar ter with a shudder and rows of blinking lights. There was a small army of the things parked to one side of the bar, their cheap pseudo-metal bodywlinting. The robot blinked and whirred and something whined deep within its chassis. Its midriff was surrounded by a row of shot glasses of various shapes. A light sensor at the end of its miniscule antenna started blinking as it figured out the location of the er. The robot grabbed a beer mug from a rad proceeded to pull a pint of brown ale, much to the er』s amusement.
「New robot bartehe only thing it 』t do is juggle bottles,」 Ram the barten