Code Jumper

by Zachariah Dracoulis

  “Don’t you think you’re being rude?” Quinn chimed in.

  I ignored her for no other reason than because I was concerned that the client would think I’m crazy if I started mumbling to myself.

  “Name’s Donny!” the client called over as I opened the trunk.

  “Mmhm…”

  I really didn’t like it when they gave out their names, made me think that they were trying to elicit mine so that they could more easily incarcerate me.

  I found his bag, one of the smaller ones, and lifted it out, “Hey, so you’ll be wanting just the one hit of Freedom, right?”

  “F-Freedom? What’s Freedom?”

  ‘Oh good,’ I thought to myself, ‘nothing more fun than walking some nimrod through his first high. Heh, nimrod. That’s a funn-’

  I’ll save you the rest of my internal giggling at the word ‘nimrod’.

  You’re welcome.

  “Freedom’s what you take to get off the grid.” I said, pulling out one of the small blue auto-injectors and shutting the trunk with my elbow as I walked back toward Donny, “It makes sure that no one else in the neural net gets affected by you messing with your code, while at the same time ensuring that you don’t draw any unwanted attention from the boys ‘n’ girls in blue. Now, do you want one or not?”

  Donny seemed to think on it a while, or at least pretended to so it didn’t look like I was his first drug dealer, “What do you think?”

  “That depends, what do you plan to do with this?” I asked tiredly, shaking the bag.

  “It’s weed.” he replied like it was something to be proud of.

  I rubbed my head with the back of my hand and sighed, “That… that’s great. How many people will you be having it with, and for how long?”

  “Oh! Umm, just me for a few hours. Why? Did I get too much?”

  I wanted to tell him that I think he should be looking more in the herbal tea department and less in the herbal herb department, but instead said “That’s not up to me. I’m guessin’ you’re just gonna need the one, and probably a whole lotta incense.”

  “Alright, just the one then. How much extra is that?”

  I briefly thought about ripping him off, then I remembered what Quinn had mentioned about Hugo not being exactly a hundred percent happy with me and decided against it, “Fifty.”

  “Fifty grand!? That’s outrageous!”

  I stared blankly at Donny for a while before finally saying “Dollars. Fifty dollars.”

  “Oh…” Donny said embarrassedly, “Oh, yeah, sure. Is it good to go through in the one transfer?”

  My head didn’t quite want to nod, probably because the exchange that normally went ‘Here’s your bag with X item in it. Thanks, here’s your money.’ had turned into a thoroughly tedious, minute-long conversation, but I managed it.

  “Good, good.” Donny said as he pulled his phone out of his pocket and started searching for the link in the automated encrypted text he would’ve gotten for the meet, “And I just hit confirm?”

  Again, with great difficulty, I nodded.

  “Transfer’s complete,” Quinn said, “everything’s accounted for.”

  I handed Donny his bag and the Freedom, then turned to leave.

  “Hey, quick question…”

  “Ugh…” I said before rubbing my eyes and opening my door, “No, you won’t see me for your next drop. Yes, you can keep the bag. No, I’m not gonna get high with you, and big no, I’m not gonna help you roll a joint. G’bye.”

  I slammed the door shut behind me before Donny could say another word and started reversing my way out of the gap while he stood there looking absolutely dumbfounded.

  “I take it customer service isn’t your strong suit?” Quinn asked.

  “My customer service is just fine,” I replied defensively, “I’ve just seen enough of his type to know not to give him the time of day. The first two or three are fine, but when you end up dealing with a dozen guys like that every day it starts to grate on you. Besides, recreational weed use has been legalized in a dozen states in Re.Gen, just move to one of them.”

  “Maybe that’s the problem,” Quinn said with what sounded like genuine curiosity, “maybe they want to be doing something illegal, and something like this sates that desire without them having to go out on a murder spree.”

  “Are you saying that you think the reason people smoke weed is so they don’t go postal?”

  “Well… it’s just a thought.”

  Another smile played across my lips and I shook my head in mild amusement, “You know what? Good for you, and I’m sure you’re not entirely wrong.”

  I’m sure if she’d had the capacity, she’d have laughed at that.

  Shut up, you’re not funny.

  A LESS THAN IDEAL DEAL

  I’m happy to report that the following two clients were much better than Donny, their professionalism filling me with an undeniable sense of joy as I moved through my list with ease, driving from place to place like I was on some fun little road trip, fast food and all.

  And then I got to my final client, the one waiting for the satchel.

  I first started getting suspicious when she wanted to meet in a warehouse out in the middle of nowhere, and her text messages asking when I was going to arrive didn’t help.

  “Can you pull up anything on this client?” I asked as the warehouse came into view a few hundred feet away from the dirt road I was driving on, the bright lights above the door piercing through the late afternoon air.

  “Not without violating Code Jumper protocol.”

  “This is a matter of life and death.” I said as dramatically as I could.

  “You can’t be serious.” Quinn replied after a few seconds.

  “Saw right through that, eh?” I laughed, “Alright, so maybe it’s not life and death, but come on, you gotta admit this looks kinda suss, right?”

  I figured it was a bit much to expect that Quinn could pick up on gut feelings, but throughout the day I’d started to see her less as an AI companion, and more of dispatch officer that lived in my head.

  I think I just described a cop with mild schizophrenia… Ah well.

  “I agree,” Quinn finally said after letting me hang for a good long while, “something doesn’t seem right, though my experience is mostly limited to today.”

  That’s around the time when I started to wonder whether she was deliberately taking time to respond, or if she too was working through the learning curve of intelligence and was simply having trouble processing answers that weren’t basic commands or directions.

  I pulled onto what barely passed as a driveway and drove the final few feet to the warehouse, “Glad it’s not just me then.” I said as I threw the car in park and popped the trunk, “I get your need to stick to protocol, I really do, but if you pick up on anything while I’m in there just… just gimme a shout, alright?”

  “Of course. I’m sure I can bend the rules if it means saving the life of a Code Jumper.”

  I gave her a nod of thanks, then stopped as I went to get out of the car, “Hope for the best,” I said, popping the glove compartment, “prepare for the worst.”

  “Oh… Do you really think you’ll need that?” Quinn asked as I pulled out my chunky black revolver, my fingers running over the beautiful engravings that covered everything from the edge of the barrel to the pearl handle.

  “I hope not,” I said as I clumsily pulled out and strapped the holster to my thigh, “but I’d rather have it and not need it than need it and not have it.”

  “Still though… seems a bit excessive, doesn’t it?”

  “No,” I said, grabbing one of the three jawbreaker-sized black balls that was rolling around dangerously in the center console, “this is though.”

  “You can’t be serious. A Black Orb? You intend to use a Black Orb?”

  I slipped the incredibly rare device into my pocket with my phone and got out of the car, “I don’t intend to, but I’m prepared to.”


  Quinn didn’t say anything in response to that, instead opting to instead give me an exhausted sigh followed by complete radio silence.

  It kind of upset me that she wouldn’t be coming along for the job, but at the same time I couldn’t really blame her either. Over the course of a few hours I’d gone from being perfectly happy to work in near complete silence to wanting a chatty companion, which was dumb at best and dangerous at worst.

  I grabbed the satchel out of the trunk and started shuffling toward the warehouse door, ignoring the uncomfortable feeling I got when I realized that my car was the only one anywhere near the warehouse.

  ‘She probably parked inside,’ I told myself, ‘nothing to be worried about.’

  I have a tendency to do that, ignoring my intuition when it’s most needed, but to be fair I wasn’t exactly in a position to tell Hugo that I didn’t take the last job because I got scared when I walked up to the door.

  “Open up!” I shouted as I reached the hangar-style doors and let my free hand hover over my hand cannon’s grip.

  “I…” the client called back from inside, “I think you should open it!”

  My brow furrowed and I let my palm slide onto the pistol, “Well, I think we’ve got ourselves a problem then! Either you open this door, or I walk!”

  I was met with silence.

  “Alright, guess I’ll be goin’ then.” I said, turning away and hoping that she wouldn’t respond.

  “Wait!”

  I cursed under my breath and turned back to face the door, “Yeah? What for?”

  “Just… just wait, alright? I’ll be there in a second…”

  A smart man would’ve taken that as his cue to leave, a moderately intelligent man wouldn’t have ignored the whispering in the warehouse, and the average Joe would’ve probably run away when he heard guns being fiddled with.

  I am clearly none of those.

  The door slid open and I tried to put on my most charming smile as I was met with the business end of a small, seven round handgun and the tight hair bun having detective holding it.

  “Hey, Eddie?” Quinn whispered as I put my hands up.

  “Yeah?”

  “I think there might be some police officers in the warehouse.”

  “Yeah.”

  FIGHT MY WAY OUT

  “My, my, that is an adorable little gun.” I said in a foolish attempt to break the tension.

  “Yeah?” the ‘client’ snarled, “Let’s see how adorable it is when I-”

  “No need to finish that sentence,” I interrupted in the hopes of skipping over the mental imagery of me dying, “I’m well aware that you don’t need a .50 cal to make me unalived.”

  The officer clearly wasn’t appreciating my humor, and instead of giving me a haughty laugh and a warning to get my life on track, she grabbed me by the collar of my jacket and pulled me into the warehouse where a good dozen cops stood near their cruisers and SUVs in tense waiting.

  A few detectives in their button-ups and dress pants here, a few excessively armed SWAT guys there, it was a regular party in the warehouse.

  “We know what you are, Code Jumper.” the cop spat as she took my gun and stabbed me in the back with the muzzle, pushing me into the middle of the large, empty space.

  “Code… Jumper?” I asked, “No, I think you’ve got me mixed up with those rakishly handsome and well-endowed hackers.”

  “Save us the bullshit.” the officer barked, holstering her gun and aiming mine at me, “We know, and we’re gonna turn you in for a reward.”

  “To who? You guys are the police force, aren’t you?”

  “Shut up, you know I meant the devs. And boy, are they gonna be happy to have yo-”

  “Eddie?” Quinn asked, blocking out the cop’s annoying monologue, “Eddie, should I pull you out?”

  “Nah, I got it.”

  The cop stopped talking and tilted her head, “Got what?”

  “Oh, sorry. You.”

  The rest of the cops started looking between each other concernedly, but the one who had a whole lotta pain leveled with my chest didn’t seem too phased, “Heh, really? You’ve ‘got’ us?” she mocked, taking a step toward me, “See, ‘cause to me it looks more like we’ve got you.”

  “I can see why you’d think that.” I replied dismissively, preparing myself to make the quick series of movements I’d have to do in order to survive.

  “What’re you gonna do? Seriously? Make a run for it? We’ve got you surrounded. Face it, you’re trapped in here with us.”

  “Or are you trapped in here with me?”

  I took advantage of her split-second moment of confusion and terror and started moving, shooting my hand down into my pocket as I ducked and moved for the cop, before using my free hand like a viper to snatch my pistol out of her grip.

  “That was a bad decision.” she growled as she pulled her gun out and I slid back to where I’d started.

  “Ah, but was it?” I asked, my hands back in the air, one still holding the barrel of my pistol while the other was empty.

  Again, I’d thrown her off, “Yes… Yes it was.”

  Alright, so maybe she wasn’t so much ‘thrown off’ as she was ‘convinced she was talking to a Goddamn retard’, but either worked.

  Anyway, things started rolling pretty quickly after that, and before anyone could say so much as ‘What the..?’ the Black Orb had done its work, breaking down everything in the warehouse that wasn’t a player or on my person into its base code and absorbing it.

  Suddenly I was standing in a room with a bunch of nude officers of the law, their vehicles and weapons all having disappeared into the delightful little ball that I’d let roll out of my pocket and onto the ground during my stunning snatch-and-grab.

  “Eddie?” Quinn whispered in my ear as the cops started to panic, “I think you can put your hands down now.”

  “Oh, right.” I said before getting a proper grip on my gun and turning it on the woman whose hair had fallen down onto her shoulders on account of her hair tie being stolen, “Now, unfortunately I’ve only got the six bullets in this ‘ere boomer, so I’m gonna need y’all to make the decision amongst yourselves about who gets the good, clean death. Hell, you do a good enough job and I might just let you walk out of here.”

  “And what makes you think we won’t ju-oof.”

  The poor lead of the sting operation was the first to go, one of the bulkier SWAT guys having barreled toward her at full speed and tackled her to the ground before going to work smashing her head into a bloody pulp.

  “Just keep telling yourself it’s a video game…” Quinn muttered.

  “What?” I asked as I clumsily pulled a cigarette from the carton in my pocket and stuffed it between my lips, “I’m not havin’ any trouble with this.”

  “I wasn’t talking to you.”

  It took me probably a bit longer than it should’ve to realize that she was talking about herself, but when I did I made sure to be as comforting as possible to her as the violent spectacle played out in front of us.

  Kinda.

  “Ah, weak stomach?”

  “I don’t have a stomach.” Quinn snapped, “But yes, I have no interest in seeing such copious amounts of… gore.”

  “Yeah…” I said, aiming at and scaring off one of the detectives who’d taken to looking at me in a less than savory manner, “I’d like to say you get used to it, but you really don’t.”

  “Mmhm, can I pull you out now?”

  “What? No! I’ve still got work to do.”

  The bloodbath was doing well in the process of whittling down the cops numbers, and, though not at all appetizing to look at, it gave me the opportunity to go over and collect my Black Orb.

  “No, you don’t. This was your last job, and you may not think so, but I definitely think this is about as done as it’s going to get.”

  “I disagree,” I said before shooting two guys that looked like they were locked in a cuddle, “I think I can still make the mon
ey that Hugo’s expecting.”

  Quinn stayed silent as I exited the warehouse, something that should’ve seemed completely normal but instead made me feel like I’d somehow hurt her feelings.

  “You alright?” I asked.

  She hesitated to answer for a moment, before letting out what sounded like a genuinely pained sigh, “I just don’t understand why humans have to be so violent. Why didn’t they work as a team to stop you?”

  “So you’re saying you wished that they overwhelmed me?”

  “No! No, not at all. I’m jus-”

  “Hey, I know what you mean,” I interrupted with a little laugh as I took a seat on the hood of my car and waited for the ‘victors’ to emerge, “and I’m sure that I’m still your number one priority. Look, I get your concern, I really do, but I promise that people aren’t like that out in the real world.”

  “Then why are they like that in here?”

  “Because… Heh, you’re just full of fun questions, aren’t you?” I said as I took a drag from my cigarette and left it to sit in between my lips, “Honestly, I don’t know why people are so quick to go ballistic in here, they just are. It probably has something to do with the fact that they know it isn’t real, or maybe it’s because they figure a quick respawn is better than a gut shot that gets them holed up in hospital for a few months.”

  “But don’t they have to start from birth?”

  “Yeah, but they can fast forward through all the ‘boring crap’,” I said, realizing that to her, as an AI, she probably genuinely had no idea that a lot of the children in Re.Gen were running on autopilot, “for them it’s just a few seconds of black while they wait for their avatar to get back to the point where they were up to.”

  “How does that work?”

  “How does tha-ugh… hold on.” I said before blowing a cheeseburger-sized hole through a guy’s head as he came stumbling out of the warehouse, “Do I really have to explain everything to you?”

  There was a certain amount of bitterness behind my words that I hoped Quinn wouldn’t pick up on, but judging from her long silence she definitely had, and when she finally did speak she sounded utterly embarrassed.