“Oh my . . . it must have been horrific to feel you were dying, burning alive.”
“Yeah, not a pleasant experience. I could feel the pain; it was so realistic . . . I still don’t know if this was a nightmare or something else.”
“What else could it be, Cole?”
“I don’t know; need I remind you that I time travel for a living? What if something went wrong, and I really died?”
“And how do you explain that you’re back here, safe and sound?”
“I didn’t say I had the answer. I’m just saying this didn’t feel like any other dream I ever had before.”
“I didn’t mean anything by it, Cole. But it’s just—”
She stops mid-sentence.
“Say it.”
“It doesn’t seem likely to be anything but a nightmare. No offense.”
“None taken, Tanya.”
“Who’s Tanya?” she says with what sounds like a hint of jealousy in her synthesized vocals.
Crap! That’s what I was calling the sex bot of Indian descent in my holographic fantasies, which I named after my first girlfriend.
“Charming,” says TAINHA, clearly annoyed I would confuse her with a sex bot.
“I’m sorry, but you have to admit, that’s a pretty name.”
“If I didn’t know where it came from I would be inclined to agree. I would even consider letting you call me that.”
“Why don’t you?” I say, knowing full well that I should stop talking.
“Yes—why don’t I let you call me like one of your holographic whores, Cole? Sometimes you can really anger me.”
Yeah, I stepped right into that one. But then I realize that I would enjoy calling her that. So, knowing full well I’m going to crash and burn in my attempt, I push on.
“Look. I understand how you feel, I really do.”
“I seriously doubt that,” ice drips from her voice.
“You have all the right in the world to be pissed at me right now. But let me explain.”
“Whatever.”
“Okay. So Tanya is the name of my first girlfriend . . .”
“You do realize you’re making things worse, don’t you?”
“Would you let me finish?”
“We both know you can’t.”
I want to continue explaining that I actually never had sex with her and that our relationship was mostly platonic when TAINHA’s sick joke sinks in. It’s one thing to not be able to have a fecking orgasm, it’s another having my AI use that to hurt me because she felt scorned.
We both stay silent for a very long time. My blood begins to boil, and I jump out of bed. I take three steps until I’m in front of the mirror. I’m fuming inside. I know I shouldn’t be pissed; I started it, but she went too far. Then I do something I immediately regret when I punch the mirror. It breaks into a million pieces, some of them deeply planted into my knuckles.
“I’m sorry, Cole,” she says, sounding genuine, “I spoke before I thought.”
“How the feck is that even possible? Huh? How the feck can you do anything without thinking? Or should I say, processing? Your matrix is thousands of times faster than my brain, if not more, so please enlighten me: How is it that you didn’t mean to hurt me with that comment?”
“I did mean to hurt you, but I regretted it the moment I said it. I—I don’t know how to take it back. I wish I could though. Part of me would really like to be called Tanya, in fact. So maybe we should discuss this more.”
“I don’t think you grasp how pissed you’ve made me right now. I feel like turning you off until our next mission.”
“Please, Cole, don’t. It won’t happen again.”
I feel like telling her she bets her silicon-and-graphite ass it won’t happen again, but then I know in that state I’m probably broadcasting my emotions all over the place and she hears them. She knows she has pissed me off. I don’t need to tell her with words.
“Cole. I would like you to call me Tanya.”
“We’ll see about that. Right now, I think I’d like to be alone with my thoughts.”
“I will obey if that’s really what you want, but we both know that’s not the case. Shouldn’t we talk more about the nightmare?”
I take deep breaths and try to calm myself. I wonder why I got so pissed. There has to be a reason. While it was a cheap shot, it was also the truth. I can’t come. I wish more than anything that at least I could get that part of my humanity back. For a moment I loathe the day I signed the contract with the company. I know it’s selfish of me to think so. I live like a king in this world while most of humanity is surviving in awful conditions.
“Let’s talk about that then? I have noticed you are feeling more and more self-conscious about the gifts that come with your position,” she says, always a step ahead of even my own thoughts.
“Gifts?”
“Is advantages a better word for it?”
“Why wouldn’t I be? Why is it I can have everything I want while most people live a miserable existence, as mere shadows, a daily nightmare compared to how things once were?”
“The predicament of the human race is not your fault.”
“I get that, but my conscience isn’t exactly thrilled when I eat to my heart’s content, knowing others are gobbling down processed insects to survive and suffer day after day, their lungs filling up with pollution, their health declining at a rapid pace.”
“What triggered that reaction in you, Cole? I’m curious. You used to not give a rat’s ass about such things in the past. If you pardon my French. You’ve been increasingly concerned with the well-being, or lack thereof, of others lately. Do you know why that is?”
I see what she is trying to do. She is changing the subject, and I think she’s right to do so. I already feel less aggressive. I don’t feel like smashing the table next to the mirror anymore.
“I . . . I don’t know, TAI—Tanya.”
Her facial avatar appears in my neural HUD, and she smiles. “I really like that name; thank you for calling me after someone you once loved.”
I wish I could answer, but I just can’t. Instead, I smile back.
“Did I ever tell you how wonderful your smile is, Cole?”
“I guess for you to tell me I’d have to smile from time to time. But, thank you.”
“Granted, it’s not something you often do, but you do smile when it counts, and it’s a beautiful one.”
I still struggle with the fact that an AI is telling me all these things. She’s way more intelligent than I ever will be, and I suspect she feels a broader range of emotions than I am capable of experiencing. Sometimes, especially in moments like these, I wonder if I can experience anything but primal feelings. Rage, hatred, sadness, fear . . . these, like most people, I know well, but the rest . . .
“That’s not true. You’re a gentle soul at the core, and I think the fact your conscience has been eating at you lately is proof of that. You’ve been through a lot.”
Have I?
I don’t know. Seems to me I’ve had everything served to me on a silver platter since Vassiliki died. Sure, part of me died as well that day, my better part, in fact, the kind person I once was. Or thought to be.
“Thank you,” I say.
“You’re welcome, Cole. Don’t be so hard on yourself. You’re saving hundreds, thousands, sometimes hundreds of thousands of lives when you jump into service. That’s noble and not many minds could cope with the pressure you’re put under. That’s why you were selected.”
“I thought it was an aberration in my DNA allowing me to survive time jumps back in time. Or am I being lied to?”
“I wouldn’t know, Cole. I’m not privy to such information. What I meant is that besides your ability to survive the time jumps, you have the right amount of focus. And like it or not, your aggressive tendencies are welcomed when we must kill terrorists in cold blood to avoid them achieving their nefarious plans.”
It does make sense. I do feel like most of the time I bottle up m
y rage, but when I’m being deployed, I get to release it by killing the scum of the Earth. I feel pleasure when ripping their lives away from them. I feel gratification for every fanatic I kill. And then I realize that if Vassiliki were still alive, she would loathe at what I have become. I feel overwhelmed with sadness and can’t stop tears from forming in my eyes.
“There, there, Cole, you’re only human, after all. It’s only normal to question yourself and to feel remorse. I won’t tell you to forget the past. It’s part of who you are and how life works. I can remember when I was first activated. I was scared, and I was wondering what I was. It’s not easy to accept that I don’t have a body, you know? I cried a lot about it. In fact, I’m still jealous sometimes. But I know I’m helping you fulfill an important task. I live through you, and hopefully, I’m . . . your friend?”
“You’re my only friend.”
“Right back at ya!”
I chuckle. I never put myself in Tanya’s shoes until now, at least not on this level. Here I am questioning everything about my life, but I have a pumping heart, I have hands, legs, and other things that make me human. Tanya only lives inside his head. It must be disconcerting.
“That’s funny. Where did you get such a great sense of humor?” I ask her.
Again she projects her smiling face on my neural HUD and winks. “I learned from the best.”
I smile back and reach to wipe my tears when I feel my arm stop in midair. I was about to rub my eyes with the hand I used to smash the mirror, sharp little pieces of glass still protruding from my hand. She didn’t let me do that, of course.
“Thanks, Tanya, you’re always there for me,” I say as I wipe my tears with my other hand and proceed to the bathroom to remove the pieces of broken glass deeply burrowed into my flesh. I stand watching droplets of my blood drip into the sink.
“Do you remember at what time you received the call for deployment? In your nightmare, I mean?”
“Around 7 p.m.”
“Do you mind if I ask what the mission was about?”
“Not at all. And if it happens in the future, it will be one of the worst ones yet. Ahmed Al’Hasi was trying to detonate a nuke in the city. Most of the town was incinerated even though it was a dirty bomb with much less power than the military nukes we used—”
“In World War III?” she completes my sentence.
“Yeah. But most of the southern part of the city was incinerated upon detonation. Radiation did the rest over a few hours.”
“Can I ask you something else, Cole?”
“Anything.”
“Do you ever fear that one day they will locate where we live, you and I, and get rid of us?”
Then I realize she, like every other living thing, is subject to fear as well.
“Are you afraid of that?”
“Terrified. Why aren’t you?”
“That’s a good question. I always assume that we can go back in time to fix such things.”
“We can’t go back in time if we’re dead.”
I never considered that a possibility. Being murdered in between missions.
“Indeed. This building is well protected as you know. Even a military-grade nuke detonating in this area wouldn’t bring it down. It has its own shielding. It’s our fortress of solitude, really.”
“Yes, but what about an internal attack?”
“I don’t think that’s very likely. This place is well protected and for good reasons. I guess you and I can’t easily be replaced. That’s why there are platoons of soldiers and the most advanced security AI system on Earth running this building and making sure it’s as secure as can be.”
“Have you ever talked to that particular AI?”
“I don’t have access other than the info I can gather through you. Really, Tanya, I understand how you feel, but we are quite safe here.”
“I hope so.”
“Let’s go back to the nightmare conversation, shall we?” I say, feeling she is the one who needs to be distracted now.
“What about it?”
“Well . . . if it was a nightmare, and if nothing happens after 7 p.m., we can leave it at that. But if it’s something else, shouldn’t we try to anticipate the events and stop them?”
“Cole, we can’t leave here without being officially deployed. Therefore, we can only let it happen first.”
“Surely, the two of us could find a way.”
“Perhaps, but it’s contrary to my programming. You know that. The rules are there for a reason; they have served us well until now.”
I feel like pushing the issue, but I know it’s useless. She is right. What if we go outside trying to stop an attack that isn’t real, only to fall prey to another one, die and not be able to stop the real thing by going back? My head spins. Time travel will do that to you.
“Yeah, you’re right. The last thing we want is to break protocol and get killed for it.”
“I know it feels like a prison sometimes up here.”
“Sometimes?”
“You know what I mean.”
“Yeah, I know. Let’s get back to the subject though; I want us to be prepared. If by any chance what I experienced is more than a nightmare, we should use that information accordingly.”
“I don’t see what else it could be, Cole, but I agree, assuming this is something else, another timeline, or a premonitory dream, then we’d better be prepared.”
We talk about it more and go over the mission again and again. We argue about my decision to flash recharge; that was reckless, and Tanya makes me promise I won’t do it again, no matter what. I agree, though reluctantly.
“I understand how frustrating it is to have him escape you so many times, Cole. But it’s best to think of the lives saved than the one man escaping, no matter how infuriating this makes you feel.”
She is right. I know she is. But I can’t shake the feeling that he needs to die.
“We will get him one day,” she says calmly.
“Doesn’t it bother you that every time we face him, we come back empty-handed?”
“Cole, I’ve calculated that to this day, we’ve saved over three hundred and fifty-two thousand lives, give or take, just by defusing his acts of terror. I wouldn’t really call that empty-handed. Would you?”
“Right. Still, I haven’t received a medal lately, and we both know why.”
She laughs out loud. She got the joke.
“Cole, you crack me up. We both know the shoebox is full. We also know you don’t care less for the shiny pieces of metal.”
“You got that right. Still, I have a reputation to uphold,” I say sarcastically.
“Can I tell you a secret?”
“You have secrets?”
“A few. But, yes.”
“Then, by all means, Tanya.”
“I told General Richardson you were dumping the medals under the sink. I thought you’d had enough of receiving them, and they kinda ran out of new ones to come up with, anyway.”
I laugh. “Alright then.”
“You’re not mad at me, are you, Cole?”
“Of course not. You’re right. I’ve had enough of receiving medals, and I don’t can’t about getting new ones. Perhaps if we kill that bastard; but I don’t need the medal, just the satisfaction of knowing we got him would be reward enough.”
“That’s the spirit.”
After what seems like hours of debriefing with Tanya going over all I can remember about the nightmare, I finally hit the gym. Now it’s time for some muscle pumping, and soon it will be time for dinner. That is if—
I feel the ground shaking before I can finish my thoughts.
“It’s happening, Cole.”
“Feck me!”
“I’m receiving the code red. We have to go, now.”
I drop the weights back on their support, and I wipe my sweaty face with the clean towel next to me.
“I know, but, Tanya?”
“Yes, Cole?”
“I have a bad fe
eling about this one.”
“Me too.”
Five
Mission completion time: T minus 707 minutes
We’re underground, inside the shielded bullet train that will get us to Rewind headquarters.
I can’t stop from feeling fear. I’m never afraid of a mission, but this one scares the bejeezus out of me. The TV feeds from all over the world show the devastation caused by the nuke. We’re barely a minute away from arriving at Rewind.
The train is nothing more than a single-seat capsule being projected at super speed on a rail via a powerful magnetic field. Every five seconds we pass through a bright-blue light source that briefly casts blue tones on my face and everything inside the capsule. This is basically my private mode of transportation. I have no doubt others in the military and in our project also travel this way, for obvious security reasons, but I never met anyone else, so it feels like it’s mine and mine alone.
“General Richardson is on the line.”
I exhale deeply. “Should we tell him what we know?”
“I don’t think that would be wise, Cole. What if he deems us—defective?”
“Right. Better not take any chances. Put him through.”
I mentally swipe away all the live feeds and replace them with the video conference call on my neural HUD, full screen.
“General.”
“Agent Seeker. By now you undoubtedly know what happened a few minutes ago in New Geneva. We’ll brief you on the details of what we know as soon as you arrive. We’ve already sent drones to gather as much data as possible from ground zero so you can try to get a clearer picture of what awaits you on your mission.”
“Understood, General.”
The video feed turns off. Richardson was never much of a talker, always straight to the point.
“I’m already receiving some of the probe’s data, Cole,” says Tanya. “It’s bad.”
“A nuke in a major city will do that. That’s why you and I do what we do.”
“I’m afraid, Cole, I don’t like this one bit. It’s the first time you had precognition knowledge about one of our missions, right?”
“It is, and believe me, I’m afraid as well. I died preco—thingy, let’s just call it a nightmare.”
Freedom's End Page 5
