Flesh and Alloy: A dystopian novel

by Nathan Lunn

  “Ah, welcome back, Sir! Almost didn’t recognise you. We knew you would be here once more, it just took you some time,” the PR seller from his last visit to Flea Corner spoke, catching him on his chest as he had days before. Kye stumbled backwards in his drunken state, a wild smile spreading across his face despite the irritation at his interruption.

  “I remember you!” The man winced a little from the bourbon clouds emanating from Kye’s breath, a glint in his eye as he noticed a vulnerable individual available to steal a sale from. He grabbed his arm and wheeled him into the shop, talking as he did.

  “And we remember you, good sir! You hurried off before we were able to finalise the sale, but that’s okay, because returning customers get reductions!” Kye nodded slowly, sitting back down in the chair that still sat in the middle of the room. A different woman from last time came to his side, a small red box in her hands, and much more reserved clothing on.

  “What do you sell again?” Kye said, slipping a little down the chair, caught by the woman to his side. The seller advanced with a smirk on his face, blocking the light as he filled Kye’s sight.

  “This box, held by my lovely assistant here, holds your salvation. I’m sure you’ve heard of PseudoReality, and its upsetting limitations? Well, here we offer the true abilities of the device, a way to experience what it can really offer. Seamless integration with the world around you, with anything you can imagine designed and updated by our dedicated modding team. No sitting and experiencing the new you, you can walk about as him with our device!” Kye nodded like he was listening, but his eyes kept drifting to the street outside. “Is everything alright there?”

  Kye looked back at the man, a short tear slipping out of the side of his eye. He spoke, a whisper. “Not really. I miss Julie.”

  The man looked at his assistant, and he pushed forward. “Was Julie your friend?” Kye shook his head, an etched grimace drilled into his face. “A lover?” Kye had frozen, eyes glossy and staring into the distance, completely unresponsive. The man leaned in closer, meeting Kye’s gaze. “We can bring her back.” This broke Kye out of his stupor, grabbing the man close with his hands, and pulling him nearby, the frantic look in his face returning in full force.

  “How? Please!” Smoothing out the wrinkles of his suit, the man stood, and pointed once more to the box.

  “We can bring back anyone you want. If you can remember them, you can see them by your side once more. So close you can almost touch them. You just have to apply our jailbroken PR device.” Kye looked at the box, the red standing out in the room like blood on a white shirt – the woman smiled and gestured to him to open it, to look inside and pick it up.

  He shook his head violently, pushing the box away, and moaning loudly, “No, no, no, no, no! PR is bad, Jules wouldn’t have wanted me to have it. I’m not meant to, I’m not…” He trailed off, staring out of the door once more.

  “Sir, we’re nothing like those people at PR, giving these fake products out to their customers, never anything real. There’s a reason why they called it Pseudo. No, no, sir.” He opened the box for Kye, taking out the small disc, which was now flashing neon red and left it on his finger. “You only need to try, and you will see what we mean. See how much better it is. Just place it on your temple and you can give it a test run, yes?” Kye stayed silent, looking over at the man, pensive. The seller pushed forward. “Yes?” Kye looked up, stammering to say something. “Sir? Let me help you here…”

  “I–” Kye spoke, cut off by the seller. He moved forward, placing the red flashing disc over Kye’s temple whilst tapping his own. Kye lay back in the chair as it started to boot up, a spinning red circle planting itself in the middle of his sight as it loaded into existence. A rush of calming hormones flooded his body as it booted up, and the PR logo flashed into his bottom right commlink, fitting into the slot where it usually sat. There was currently no indication that this was a bootleg version, though he hadn’t gone unconscious yet, and nothing had been prompted, as this was their own version of a trial. His sight returned, he looked over to the man, who nodded, and spoke again.

  “Sounds like it has integrated rather fast, you have used one of these recently?”

  Kye shook his head, slurring, “How do I get her back? Load it up for me!”

  The man chuckled, and tapped at his temple. “Here you go. Should load up the program no issue, just make sure you’re thinking of her and can find her on the system.”

  Kye was confused, until the program started, and a search bar popped up in his vision. He tapped, searching for Julie’s name, jumping when the loud-coloured text of ‘No Results Found’ was returned. Confused, he tried again, gaining nothing new. He looked back at the man, frowning. “Where is she? Your system is broken.”

  The man rushed to his side, tapping at his own temple, speaking fast to rectify the issue. “Very sorry, sir, are you putting the right name in. Julie, you say? What is the last name?” Kye narrowed his eyes in suspicion and the man sped up further. “Just that we need to know her name to check she is in the system. We are connected to the governmental database on the commlink so we can get the best approximation of her – coupled with your memories of course.”

  Kye frowned further, furrowing his brow in intense concentration. Eventually he spoke. “Julie won’t be on the governmental systems. She’s Shadowalking.” He frowned harder and tried again. “Shadowwalker.”

  The man slapped Kye’s back and encouraged a similar frown, though his was clearly fake. “I’m very sorry sir, but I am afraid we cannot approximate anyone without their governmental records. That’s the way our system works, you see…”

  “You said she’d be back!” Kye yelled, his temper showing a little more than usual due to his inebriation. “By my side! I need a chance to say goodbye.”

  “I am very sorry, sir. I was not aware of her condition. But, anyone in the database can be found and drawn into this world, you only need to search for them–”

  Kye immediately tapped at his temple, sending a new search for ‘Charlie Dunham’. It buffered and the man went silent, letting Kye do his thing. After the buffering finished, a short shadowed figure formed in front of Kye in the seat, black and featureless.

  “He’s not–”

  The man hushed Kye in his stride, holding a finger to wait.

  “Give it a moment to apply – only you can see him. Charlie, right?” The man consulted his tablet, looking at Kye’s decision. “Let me try this.” He tapped the tablet and the blacks of the shadow filled in with colour, solidifying into the shape of Charlie, a little younger than when Kye had last seen him. He caught a sob in his throat, leaning over and passing his hand out to shake his shoulder. The hand went right through the idle picture, fuzzing a little around the edges as he interrupted the projection; an edited version of Charlie’s voice – slightly robotic and delivered in irregular pitches and enthusiasm – jumped out, speaking a simple greeting that appeared to be taken from a script:

  “Hello! How are you today?”

  Kye grimaced at the voice, looking over to the seller. “Is the only way they can talk?” he asked, squirming in his seat at the unflinching stare of the hologram.

  The seller walked forward, moving through the projection and next to Kye.

  “I imagine you are talking about the modulation interference. I’m afraid so; they are taken from audio archives on the individual to give the best approximation of their voice. I can disable it if you would prefer?” Kye nodded, standing to go and take a closer look at Charlie. He found himself welling up as he got closer, knowing that Charlie would have enjoyed hearing about the interesting technology he was currently being formed and designed from. As he passed to his side, he jumped. Charlie’s projection had not yet moved, and it was only shown in two dimensions, so approaching him from the side was confusing – a thin black line, glowing light blue around the edges was visible.

  “Why’s he not moving?” The man tapped and Charlie disappeared, ready to s
tart selling again. “Hey, where did he go!”

  “I’m afraid the trial ends here. The projection can be upgraded to a moving, constant companion if you commit to the jailbroken device – for our cheap price we can upload it to your commlink and you will have all of the proper expansions. How does that sound?”

  Kye was distraught, feeling as though he had lost Charlie once more, and rushed his speech, walls breaking down: “Bring him back! He’s gone, get him back here!” The man moved to his side as the woman did the same, taking the disc off Kye’s temple. “Get him back!” The man moved in closer again, wrapping an arm around Kye, and pointing to the street in front of him.

  “We can fill that space for you. Just tap on this tablet here and we will upload the device,” he spoke, the malice in his voice disguised by his charm, pouring out of his mouth as slick as oil. “Right here, sir. Bring him back by tapping here.” He pulled the tablet up to Kye’s face, the bright white blinding him, a small red box waiting in the middle of the screen to be tapped.

  33

  Douglass had finally found the time to sit down and reflect as he made it to his home, far from the hustle of the city and the cramped conditions of the warehouse and the tight streets. His small cabin, an hour out into the countryside, was not only idyllic, but was secluded – for at least eight miles in each direction there were no other residences, and the nearest ground level road or pathway was 40 miles past there. He sat out on his deck, sipping cautiously on a heated seafood instant noodle cup, trying to calm his beating heart and sort out the events of the past few days whilst he stared at the rolling grass hills, harvesting bots flying along the near ridges of his perfectly plotted farm.

  He had not yet heard from any of his colleagues, following the disastrous outcome of the CAAF Cares event, but that wasn’t to say he was unaware of what was going on. Following the news through a combination of publicly released footage and information passed by his feeler agents, Douglass had been able to surmise that Eddie had been killed in an unfortunate and brutal attack by Kye, along with multiple fatalities, including both the guests and the residents of the slums. At some point during the fighting, Julie had suffered some form of bullet wound and had succumbed to her injuries – the report he had been sent revealed her body was charred, and, though they weren't able to recognise her, he suspected it was her. Losing commlink connection to the group had confused him for a while, though he later learnt that Clara had returned to attack Ellie Croft, and they had both since gone missing – even his feeler agents had no clue where they had gone. This was not of full concern, however, as further complications had been revealed in relation to Kye – his eye had been replaced by a prosthetic after Eddie gouged it out, and he had not heard from him since the events had transpired – Douglass was sure to keep in touch with his contacts throughout Flea Corner as the events progressed.

  He poured himself a measure of home-brewed whisky, the orange liquid swilling into the bottom of the glass, the clink sounding from a few ice cubes as they hit the side of the container. The news of Glennon and Elroy had been particularly difficult to hear, despite working with them only a few times over the years. They were his suppliers and friends and their death did not shake him lightly. He raised his glass to no-one, and threw the liquid back, wincing at its burning taste.

  At 68 years old, Douglass had seen plenty of the world. The evil and the good had taken its toll, and he had grown tired, cumbersome, almost complete. Many friendships had been forged with various business partners and known people, and too many of those friendships had been lost as a result of death, betrayal or incarceration – the more recent had seen an influx in the brutality and consistency; in fact, it was not until he formed this current team that he had felt such a persistent sorrow.

  Shaking it off, he headed out to the rows of growing plants and began to pick and prune at the tattered leaves, shuffling down the sides and avoiding the robots’ paths – the methodical nature of this task helped to soothe his mind, and allotted the perfect time for him to work without thinking too strongly. Every now and again, he would pluck one of the few fully-grown and uniform fruits from the vines, placing it in a little bag which filled up as he continued. The sun was starting to lower, so he headed back to his cabin and locked the door, intent on settling down for the night. He poured a final nightcap and got under his covers, slipping on his sleep apnea and sensory dampening helmet to aid in his rest. It wasn’t long before he got to sleep.

  ***

  Kye was waiting on Douglass’ porch when he awoke, ready to confront him. Douglass was taken aback by his condition, even despite knowing the various wounds he had suffered. A jagged and horribly fused scar ran down the left side of his face, sinking into his skin like a deep ocean trench, the jewel of which was his prosthetic eye. An ever spinning synthetic design, it would have fitted in without any notice if it wasn’t for the different iris colour; Kye’s manufactured heterochromia and scar was not only reminiscent of Wei’s disfigurement, but was also a small concept that made up his overall image – as well as this, he was wearing tattered and bloodied clothing, deep bags ran under his right eye, and a messy stubble was starting to come in around his chin. He had a permanent wince slapped across his face, either in pain from the possibility of an argument or from the pounding headache and light sensitivity he was sure to be experiencing – Douglass was able to surmise this by the smell alone, a soaked, desperate plea for cleaning seemed to emanate from his being, a mix of alcohol, mould and something quite indeterminable. A thin black ring ran around his temple, a remnant of some device he had felt there recently. Keeping his distance as though he was contagious, Douglass called out to him, caution in both his voice and demeanour:

  “Hello, Kye. I don’t think you should come any closer, do you?”

  Kye soured his expression, his wince stretching at the corners of his mouth in a gross grimace as he blocked the sunlight from the back of his head.

  “What makes you say that, Douglass? We’re partners, aren’t we?” Douglass held his place, standoffish, his arms crossed. “Why don’t we discuss business?” Kye went to move forward and Douglass held his hand out, pausing him. His very being commanded authority, and Kye obliged, stopping in his place, even though he was intent on coming in eventually.

  “That’s enough. I heard what happened at the CAAF event, Kye, I know what you did. I don’t think it’s safe for you to come in.”

  “That’s bullshit, Douglass. You know what happened at CAAF wasn’t my fault. Eddie killed Jules, he was too dangerous to keep alive.”

  Douglass, had expected this entirely, and was already ready to respond. “Eddie didn’t kill Julie, Kye. I had someone pass on the post mortem, she was already dead by the bullet wound even before the Retarder was activated.”

  “No! That’s not true, you weren’t even there. I saw her life in her eyes before the Retarder was activated!” Kye was starting to lose his temper again, despite what he thought were his best attempts to keep cool.

  Off in the distance, Douglass could spot his farming bots slowly trundling out of their storehouse.

  “I have it on medical authority – there isn’t really any stronger evidence. Post mortems don’t often lie–”

  “I saw it with my own eyes, Douglass!” Kye roared, his voice bouncing far off the sweeping hills, even managing to pause the bots mid-clipping. “Why does nobody just trust me! Eddie said the same thing.” Desperation laced his voice, barely concealed inside the anger he was unable to stop himself from letting out.

  “So, you’re going to kill me too? Like you did Eddie?” Douglass had slipped his hand into his pocket and brought out his gun, keeping it by his side in defence of another outburst.

  “Don’t talk about him! He attacked me! You see this?” Kye pointed at his own face, his hand shaking as he traced down his scar. “He gouged out my fucking eye, and drugged me! If I hadn’t protected myself, he would have finished the fucking job.”

  Douglass had gone quiet
, staring off at the distanced early morning sun. With an outstanding world-weariness, he sighed, putting his gun away. He looked at Kye and spoke. “What do you want, Kye? Why are you here?”

  “I want revenge, Douglass. I want revenge for Julie, and for Charlie, and for us and Clara and everyone who they’ve wronged. And I need your help.” Douglass remained stony faced – Kye tutted and spoke faster. “Look, there’s just Lucille and Arthur remaining, and then this whole nightmare is over. I’ve searched around and my sources say they’re holed up in the family home? I need you to help me out though, you’re the information, man.” He waited for some form of confirmation, and Douglass nodded curtly. “So? Let’s go get them.”

  “It’s not worth it, Kye. The best revenge you can get is to just walk away. Anything else and they win.” Douglass opened the door to his cabin and invited Kye in, tired of standing for too long.