by D. B. Goodin
“I have two references to that name in my database. Please be more specific.”
“Please list titles of database articles,” Melissa said.
“Delta 51 Project, and Delta Transference.”
“Tell me more about Delta 51.”
“Access denied!”
“Okay, what can you tell me about Delta Transference?”
“File locked; please provide passcode.”
That’s interesting. Why would one file block her while the other requires a passcode?
“Melissa one-nine-nine-one.”
“File unlocked. Would you like me to read it for you?”
“No thanks. Just display it on one of these screens,” Melissa said.
The document before her described transferring April’s consciousness into a healthy cyborg host. The process revealed many details about how it all worked. The side effects in the trials included ailments such as massive headaches, seizures, and behavioral changes (like mood swings). Melissa touched the link next to these symptoms, and a screen with a half-dozen video thumbnails appeared. She was about to tap on a video when Leviathan’s voice boomed; it seemed to be coming from everywhere.
“Warning: The action that you are considering contains graphic imagery. Would you like to proceed?”
Melissa tapped the video again.
“I need a verbal ‘yes’ before I will play the video.” Leviathan’s voice had changed from a casual—even cheery—tone to something cold and calculating.
“Yes, now play the damn video,” Melissa barked.
The lights dimmed in the room, and the first video started. The volume was too loud. It seemed to be coming from all directions at once. Melissa tried to find controls but froze as she saw Ash, who appeared to be at least twenty years younger. She was assisting an older man. He appeared to be at least ten years older than Dr. Ash and wore a cowboy hat which seemed out of place in a laboratory setting.
“Hello, is this thing working?” a woman’s voice said. Melissa couldn’t see anything but some grainy movement. Then a close-up of Ash took up most of the frame.
She hasn’t aged well, Melissa thought.
“This subject is a female rhesus monkey named Sara. She has shown great promise. The previous subject, Clark, didn’t accept the healthy brain tissue and died. I’m recording this session so other researchers can learn from these early experiments. The date is April 13, 1999, 2:32 a.m.”
As Ash moved away from the camera, Melissa noticed some anxiety on the monkey’s face as they strapped it to a chair.
“We will not be giving Sara any pain medication, as it is important to record unmodified neural responses,” Ash stated in the video.
They draped a plastic sheet around the monkey. The video cut out, and then restarted. Melissa gasped as she saw what happened next. Ash used saws and a knife to cut through the top of the monkey’s skull. She removed the outer shell, revealing the exposed brain. The monkey started fidgeting, but couldn’t move much because they had it strapped to an operating table. Melissa continued to watch in horror as they attached sensors to the brain.
“We must take extra care when attaching the sensors,” Ash continued. “The tissue is delicate and will provide inaccurate data if not done correctly.”
The video continued to show the monkey subjected to a battery of examinations while they performed various cognitive tests. Several of the remaining videos were similar, the monkey responding well to the tests and Ash saying she was ready to take her testing to the next level. Melissa hit “play” on the last video. Ash looked like she’d aged ten years.
“November 10, 1999, 10:52 p.m. Sara is ready for the final stage; however, Dr. Allison has left the program, citing moral concerns. No matter. I’ve learned enough from Allison’s research to proceed without him,” Ash said.
The video cut to Ash, who held some sort of surgical saw in her hands.
“Leviathan, stop video,” Jeremiah said.
The video stopped, and the lights brightened. Melissa looked up. Her father was entering the room, and he didn’t appear to be in a good mood.
“Why are you intruding in my study?” he asked. “I did not allow you to access the files.”
“Is this what you have planned for April?”
Jeremiah shook his head. “You should have waited for dinner; I had my chef prepare something . . . special.”
“What is the Delta 51 project, anyway?
“All of this is very scientific.”
“I know what you are doing. It’s sick and immoral.”
“We are trying to save your daughter’s life. You haven’t seen her suffer as much as I have.”
“I did some checking of my own. A doctor told me that April has two conditions, neither of which is life threatening.”
“What kind of life will she have if she can’t even bathe? Water scars her, and having several blood transfusions weakens her body, not to mention her mind,” Jeremiah insisted.
“I’m back in her life now. I’m not going on any more missions to further your crusade.”
“April has already agreed. She’s tired of these ailments weakening her body.”
“She is only seven years old!”
“The cybernetic host is ready. We’ve prepared everything,” Jeremiah said.
Melissa left without another word.
About thirty minutes later Melissa moved toward her daughter as if she had a purpose. When she tried to enter her daughter’s room a guard tried to intervene.
“You can’t go in there, Ms. Mason. Your father has restricted access to allow medical personnel only,” a guard said.
Melissa opened the door anyway. Her daughter was lying on a hospital bed, several IVs attached. She took her daughter’s hand.
“I told you you’re not auth—” the guard tried to say as Melissa punched the guard as hard as she could. She heard a satisfying crunch as his nose broke.
Those self-defense lessons came in handy, Father!
“You bitch!”
She turned to face the guard. He was about her height, and his muscles built him into something powerful. He grabbed her hand and dragged her out of the room. Melissa kicked the guard in the back. He readied his weapon. She kicked him in the groin. The guard doubled over in pain. She kicked him again and again until he didn’t move anymore. She took the few seconds of advantage to find something to restrain the man. With nothing in the immediate area, she rifled through his pockets . . . Handcuffs! She cuffed the guard to the IV stand and took his weapons. Melissa removed the IVs from the stand, and then rolled the bed toward a nearby wheelchair. It took some effort, but after a few moments, she was pushing April down the hallway, toward the exit.
April was waking. “What’s happening?” she asked groggily.
“Mum is taking you to a safe place,” Melissa said.
“I don’t want to go with you. Where’s Grandfather?”
Melissa made her way to the elevator, where she had no choice but to wait.
“Stop!” a guard shouted.
Melissa turned and pulled a gun out of her pocket. The guard raised his hands. The elevator door opened. Melissa pushed April into the elevator.
So many buttons, she thought, assessing the panel.
She reached for the top button and . . . stiffened as a jolt of electricity coursed through her. Melissa fell to her knees. Ash entered her line of sight holding an electronic stun gun.
“You should always check corners, dear,” Ash said.
Melissa screamed as electricity coursed through her.
“Why?” Melissa pleaded.
Ash gave Melissa a cold look as she put her phone to her ear. “I’ve got her,” Ash said. “She was trying to leave with April.”
The guard entered the elevator, handcuffed Melissa, and took her away.
Two hours later
Jeremiah and Dr. Ash prepared the chamber that would give birth to Jeremiah’s finest weapon— Delta.
“How long until
Delta is online?” Jeremiah said.
“She should be operational in a matter of hours. I still need to run several diagnostics,” Ash said.
“I need to get some sleep. Wake me before she is operational. I want to be the first person she sees.”
Jeremiah left Ash to her work.
Ash was sure that April had suffered no permanent brain damage, although the courier cut the delivery close—too close, in fact. Ash adjusted the cerebellar cortex pathway, plugged in the diagnostic interface, and ran the requisite tests.
Neural Net - Pass
Human DNA Processor - Pass
Expert Systems - Pass
Deep Learning Systems - Pass
Logic Processor - Warning (see exceptions)
Empathy Receptors - Warning (see exceptions)
Cybernetic Brain - Pass
ALL SYSTEMS OFFLINE
Dr. Ash pulled up the logic processor report first. Several fuzzy logic receptors were not firing, April’s brain was not accepting the connection; the timing appeared to be off.
This . . . complicates things, Ash thought.
After more adjustments, the logic processor errors ceased, but the empathy receptors were still giving her some trouble. She reloaded the emotional profile that she had developed, and all systems came online with a “pass.” She was just about to go and wake Jeremiah when the empathy receptors again turned into a “fail” state.
No matter what Ash tried, the empathy receptors still gave her trouble.
Was it the host? Ash frowned in concentration. No—it shouldn’t make any difference. Perhaps the genetic cell material had degraded.
“I’m not able to sleep,” Jeremiah said as he walked in the door. “Any news?”
“Still having trouble with the empathy receptors.”
“Can we bring Delta online without them?”
Ash gave Jeremiah a sharp look.
“I wouldn’t recommend that.”
Jeremiah gave Ash a pleading look.
“She may act erratically. She’s still human, and she is still your granddaughter.”
“I will give you until the end of the day. Make it happen. News has already spread about the Pretzelverse raid, and we need to invoke phase two of the plan.”
A series of beeps emitted from Delta, and then Delta’s body started convulsing.
“What’s wrong?” Jeremiah asked, alarmed.
“April’s brain is rejecting the host. Leave us.”
Ash pushed Jeremiah out of the way. He backed off and just watched her as she entered commands.
“Starting a full system re-initialization,” Ash said.
Ash lifted Delta’s head and reached behind her head to eject the power core when Delta’s eyes opened. She turned and bit Ash on her right hand.
“Aargh, restrain her!” Ash cried.
Jeremiah froze, and then held Delta as Ash ejected the power source.
“Bloody hell,” Ash grunted. “She shouldn’t have been able to do that.”
Jeremiah retrieved a first aid kit from one of the back shelves. He cleaned Ash’s wound and started wrapping it.
“That was most unexpected. The empathy receptors are malfunctioning.”
Jeremiah looked concerned. “How do we make repairs?”
“I don’t know. I mean, I think we need more information about the genetic material. In theory, the biological material should have worked. I had no trouble integrating the neural net and other systems.”
“What can I do? Do you need more doctors, researchers?”
“No—I mean yes, but what I mean to say is that I need the man responsible for creating the genetic materials.”
“Ron Allison. You need Ron!” Jeremiah said.
“Yes—can you bring him here within twenty-four hours?”
Jeremiah tapped his visor. “Leviathan, what is the status of Ron Allison?”
“Delta team, led by Commander Norris, is holding him at an off-site facility,” Leviathan said.
“We have less than twenty-four hours before April dies forever. We need Ron, now.”
Jeremiah called Norris.
“Can I help you with something?” Norris said.
“Bring Ron to Dr. Ash’s lab, posthaste.”
Jeremiah heard Norris call out something unintelligible to one of his men.
“He’s out, not sure for how long.”
“Are you sure? Call me the minute he wakes up,” Jeremiah said.
Dr. Ash gave Jeremiah a curious look as he hung up.
“That was the man responsible for transporting Ron. He is still out.”
“What did they give him?” Ash said.
“I can’t be certain, but Nitro 1500 is my guess.”
“Powerful drug,” Ash said.
“Is there anything we can give to counteract it?”
“We can try pumping adrenaline into his heart, but I’d advise against that. Men Ron’s age are delicate,” Ash said.
“While we wait for Ron to wake, I suggest that we start the process,” Jeremiah said.
“I think it’s too soon for the advanced learning protocols,” Ash said.
“I doubt we will have a better opportunity. Start the process,” Jeremiah said.
Ash looked at the results of the diagnostic reports: 89.3 percent was the last reading she took before powering off Delta to prevent additional damage to her cerebral cortex. Dr. Ash tapped her visor, a three-dimensional representation of a woman appeared.
“Dr. Ash, how may I help you?” Leviathan said.
“Need to perform a level-three diagnostic on Delta.”
“A level-three diagnostic in Delta’s current condition will take six hours, eight minutes. Do you want to proceed?”
“Affirmative!”
“Locking Delta’s cerebral state. Starting diagnostic in T-minus five minutes. You have T-minus thirty seconds to abort.”
Ash watched as they applied restraints to Delta’s arms, legs, and head. The room’s lighting changed from a light blue to a dark red. A timer was projected onto the circular walls of the room. Ash transferred control to her visor before she left the room. No one else could stop or interrupt the diagnostic while in progress. Not even Jeremiah!
Chapter 17
Melissa woke in a small featureless room with a single bed. She was sore from the prolonged use of the stun gun. She’d almost had April.
What would I have done if I left with her? she thought with regret. I don’t have the means to take care of her!
As much as Melissa hated to admit it, April was better off staying with Jeremiah. Melissa feared for April, and she didn’t want her to die. When April had been born, Melissa had wanted nothing to do with her. She wanted to put her up for adoption; her father put a stop to that. Her hatred for him lasted for years. Melissa surveyed her immediate situation. She was in a room with a couch, bed, chair, and television.
Time to get the hell out of here.
She started pounding on the door.
“Hey, let me out! Open this door,” Melissa cried.
Several minutes of banging was followed by a click, and then the door opened. It was Ash.
“Let me out! You can’t keep me here forever,” Melissa said.
“The operation . . . was a limited success; your father is with April now.”
“What do you mean, ‘limited?’”
“April is dying. I have called in the only man I know who can save her. He should be here soon.”
“I want to see her . . . now!”
Dr. Ash put a hand on Melissa’s shoulder. “Of course, dear.”
What’s wrong with her? Melissa thought frantically.
Ash opened the door, and two armed guards handcuffed Melissa.
“Hey, get your hands off me!” she screamed—but it was futile.
The guards escorted Melissa to Jeremiah’s office, removed the handcuffs, and then left. Her father was sitting behind his desk reading something on the screen of his laptop.
“Y
ou disappoint me, daughter.”
Melissa rubbed at her wrists.
“You are a sick bastard! You killed . . . my baby girl,” Melissa said.
“We have everything well in hand, daughter. April will survive, but you have to accept that she is no longer your baby girl. I’m sending you back to the Shadow Dealers. We need additional information on Black Iris and the Collective,” Jeremiah said.
“It doesn’t sound like you have anything under control. Ash said that April was dying.”
“She shouldn’t have said that. It is too early to tell,” Jeremiah said.
“Assuming that April survives, what will you do with her?”
“She will have a very important job to do: command our forces in the coming war.”
“What war?”
“Every day, people commit the most heinous of crimes on the Dark Web, many against children. They try to hide in plain sight while committing these acts. These people are doctors, clergymen, fathers, brothers, mothers, and sisters.”
“What does April have to do with any of this?”
“They have asked me to clean up a mess. We’ve been doing reconnaissance work for some time. These people profit from human misery. They collect pictures of children. They even kidnap people and ship them away to other countries. These people are a menace.”
Melissa exploded. “She’s a child—not some weapon that you can use!” She walked up to Jeremiah and spat in his face. “Who are you working for, Father?”
Jeremiah wiped his face. “Over the years, I have formed a group of like-minded people with considerable resources. We have pooled our wealth and talents into something we call the Timeslicers. Arresting the accused doesn’t have a lasting effect. We tell everyone about their activities. We dox them as the disturbed and sick people they are.”
“Why don’t you just offer to work with the authorities instead? The word will get out about these creeps.”
“That is not enough. We must spread the word, and we must go after their infrastructure. There are many businesses that provide a haven for these disturbed individuals, and we must stop them.”
“Won’t that disrupt other legitimate businesses?”
“Only the ones supporting this debauchery. We are entering a new decade, and we need to wipe the slate clean. Bringing down their support network is essential to accomplishing that goal.”
