by Thomas Fay
John nodded. Then, pointing at the building, said, ‘Come on.’
Fifty-Three
The streets of North Sydney were deserted. Office and retail workers had fled back to their homes. Abandoned cars and motorcycles lined the streets and filled the parking garages. Concierge desks stood unattended. Doors to shops swung on their hinges, providing glimpses of their empty interiors. It was quiet. A scene reminiscent of a post-apocalyptic movie.
‘This is worse than the GEC riots. How could they let it come to this?’ John said.
‘I am not sure I understand your meaning,’ Socrates said. The two of them were walking up an off ramp from the freeway. A pair of figures in dark-grey suits alone in a concrete jungle.
John made a sweeping motion with his arm. ‘This city, all of it—the buildings, the vehicles, the infrastructure—is run on Flux Cells. How could the Iona Corporation allow this to happen?’
Socrates’s eyes blurred momentarily as he interfaced with public databases.
‘According to the news reports, there is no evidence to suggest this has been caused by the Iona Corporation. On what do you base your accusation, John?’
‘They knew this could happen. Early tests of the Flux Cell ended in disaster. Surely they would have built in a safety measure, something that would prevent this.’
‘I do not have sufficient information on the device’s specification to postulate a hypothesis on the possibility of an integrated safety feature.’
John stopped. He turned to look at his partner. The android stopped beside him and stared back at him with eyes that only looked human.
‘You really don’t remember the last eight years?’ John asked.
‘Affirmative. My memories do not extend beyond seventy-two minutes and four seconds ago,’ Socrates replied.
John shook his head.
‘I really hope the professor rebooted rather than reset you. I need my partner right now.’
The android said nothing. John motioned for them to continue. They began walking up the ramp once more. John’s new phone rang. It was an odd ringtone, an oscillating melody he was unfamiliar with. He took the phone out of his pocket and answered the call.
‘This is Tesh.’
‘John, it’s Agostino Romano.’
‘Agostino? Are you alright?’
‘Si, va bene but what is going on?’
‘That’s what I’m trying to figure out. Stay away from any Flux Cells and keep your family safe.’
‘I will. Good luck, John. If there is anything I can do to help …’
‘I’ve got your number. Be safe, Agostino.’
‘You too, John.’
The call ended. John smiled, despite the situation. Agostino Romano had helped him out a few years ago when Councillor Jonathan Gage had attempted to wrest control of the Ruling Council from Qallan Frost. He’d kept in touch with him over the years. The phone call brought home the realisation that people he knew, people he cared about, could be seriously hurt or even killed if he didn’t put an end to what was happening. It also made him realise the danger they were all facing and that he really needed to make another phone call.
He found the number he wanted and hit the icon to make a call. It was answered on the second ring.
‘Hello?’ a familiar voice asked.
‘Nathan, it’s John.’
‘John! Thank God. Are you alright?’ Nathan Tesh asked.
‘I’m okay. We’re getting close to figuring out what’s going on and hopefully shutting down the Flux Cell malfunctions.’
‘Be careful, John. This is looking worse than the GEC riots. I’ll never forget …’ his uncle’s words trailed off into silence.
John knew he had been about to mention that fateful day when his parents had been crushed to death in a riot that overran a police barricade and forced its way into an underground train station.
‘Nathan, I don’t think I ever properly thanked you for looking after me all those years.’
‘And you never had to, John. You’re family. It was the least I could do.’
John said nothing for ten seconds.
‘Thank you, Uncle.’
‘It was my pleasure, nephew. Now be careful.’
‘I will.’
John hung up the call. They had almost reached the building. The shimmering energy field was creeping along the street towards them. John paused for a moment. Then he took a step forward, crossing through the translucent barrier. A strange tingling sensation passed through him. Just as suddenly it was gone.
‘Well, at least that didn’t …’ his words trailed off as he saw the effect the energy field was having on his partner. Socrates’s entire form was glowing with an inner radiance.
‘Ummm … are you alright?’ John asked.
The android turned his head to look at him. His eyes were glowing with an inner light.
‘Yes, John. The overflow from the energy syphon is manifesting as an energy field. I am able to draw power directly from it.’
‘You do realise that you’re glowing?’
Socrates raised his arms. Turning them over, he scanned them up and down.
‘It would appear my endoskeleton is attempting to shed the excess energy by converting it into light.’
‘I’ll have to take your word for it. Is there any way you can turn that off? It’s going to be hard to sneak up on anyone with you glowing like a Christmas tree.’
Socrates stood motionless for ten seconds. Slowly, the glow receded until it was indiscernible in the light of day.
‘I have recalibrated my capacitors to store more of the excess energy,’ Socrates said.
‘Much better,’ John said. ‘Now, come on; we have work to do.’
He motioned to Socrates. The two of them moved to the side of the road. Pressing themselves against the external facade of an adjoining building, they moved forward slowly. Leaning against a column, John peered around the side. He pulled his head back a moment later.
‘Doesn’t look like there are any guards outside,’ he said.
‘I am not detecting any life signs on the ground floor,’ Socrates said. He was moving his head from side to side, scanning the building’s entrance.
‘What about other floors?’ John asked.
‘There is a powerful energy field in the basement which is obstructing my ability to scan the remainder of the building.’
‘That has to be the source of the energy syphon.’
‘I agree that would be a logical conclusion. How should we proceed?’
John considered their options. They had no heavy weapons and no Ruling Council support. On top of that Socrates barely knew who he was, despite being otherwise fully functional. They were also running out of time. People were being injured and killed. The same people he had sworn an oath to protect. He knew there was only one thing they could do. Checking his handgun, he motioned to Socrates.
‘It’s time to get lucky.’
Fifty-Four
The Iona Corporation’s Flux Cell was based on an advanced theory of multidimensional universes, tapping into an infinite number of dimensions to draw infinitesimal amounts of energy from them. This made the energy safe, as no two cells were ever accessing the same dimension and the cells rotated through an infinite number of dimensions. It was an effectively stable, clean, zero-emission energy source. The basis of the Flux Cell was a wormhole terminus anchored to this dimension. The anchoring mechanism ensured that the wormhole remained fixed in this dimension, even as it rotated through countless dimensions on the other end. The sheer amount of energy being drawn continuously from all the Flux Cells in Iona was causing the anchoring mechanisms to fail. As more cells failed, this in turn increased the strain on those that remained, accelerating their demise. It was a process that would accelerate exponentially until all the cells were expended.
‘John, I am detecting multiple energy surges around us,’ Socrates said. They had entered the lobby of the building located at 159 Walker Street.
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br /> ‘Flux Cells?’ John asked.
‘The readings are consistent with those provided to me by Professor Daniel Holstein.’
‘Things are accelerating. They must be drawing more and more power.’
‘That is a logical conclusion.’
‘I wish we knew what they needed all that power for.’
‘I do not have sufficient data to postulate a hypothesis at this point in time.’
John nodded, his eyes taking in the foyer of the building. A lift bank with six turbo-lifts dominated the central part of the space, with emergency exit stairs located on either side, along with a series of service cupboards. A concierge desk was located in front of the lifts. It was empty.
‘Are you detecting any life signs in the floors above us?’ John asked.
‘Negative.’
John took a deep breath. He expelled it slowly.
‘Basement it is, then. Can you see anything now that we’re inside the building?’
Socrates turned his head from side to side as he scanned the floor around them. He pointed at a spot next to the concierge desk.
‘The focal point of the energy source is located there, approximately fifteen meters below floor level. Its power level is approaching ten gigawatts.’
‘Is that a lot?’ John asked.
‘That level of energy would be sufficient to power the entire city.’
‘So … a lot.’
The android turned to look at him. ‘Yes, John. It is a lot of energy.’
‘Wait a second—if it’s enough to power the city, does that mean all the power from the city is being channelled to this location?’
‘That is a plausible hypothesis.’
‘Looks like we’re definitely in the right place.’
‘What is our next course of action?’
John surveyed the foyer one more time. His eyes passed over the turbo-lifts and found the emergency stairs.
‘There, the stairs. That’s our way into the basement. Once there … well, I guess we’ll make it up as we go along. Our main objective is to deactivate that energy syphon.’
John took a step towards the door marked Fire Stairs. Socrates remained where he was.
‘You coming?’ John asked.
‘I am attempting to analyse the logic of your plan to shut down the energy syphon in the basement.’
‘And …?’
‘There appears to be no logic to your plan, no coherent sequence to your actions. My conclusion is that your methods are completely without logic or reason.’
John grinned, despite the seriousness of the situation they were in.
‘What do you find so amusing, John?’
‘I think you’re starting to remember who you are.’
‘On what do you base that conclusion?’
‘The fact that you’re questioning my methods.’
‘Is this something I used to do?’
John’s grin widened. ‘All the time.’
‘Yet we were an effective team?’
John’s grin disappeared as he realised that Socrates still didn’t remember who he had been for the last eight years. Who he really was.
‘We were the best.’
Fifty-Five
The emergency stairwell smelled of cement dust and stale air. It was sparsely lit with exposed LED panels, while the inside of the doors was marked with floor levels. John paused in front of the door marked Basement Level 5.
‘Is this it?’ he asked.
‘Yes. The energy syphon is eleven point five two metres from the door,’ Socrates said.
John grasped the door release. He was about to push down on it when he felt his phone vibrate inside his pocket. He took it out. Opening it, he saw it was a message from James Gleason with an attachment. The message read:
John, I believe I have identified the Flux Cell disruption device. Image attached.
He opened the attachment. It was an image of a strange-looking device with what appeared to be a multi-sectional radar dish with a smooth metallic fork at its centre. It was attached to the roof of a white van driving through the harbour tunnel.
‘What do you make of this?’ John asked, showing the image to Socrates. The android studied it in silence for ten seconds.
‘It appears to be some form of wave generator. Without physical examination or detailed schematics, I am unable to determine its purpose,’ Socrates said.
John closed his phone with a sharp click.
‘We know its purpose. It’s what they used to disable Muller’s car.’
Socrates’s eyes became a blur. ‘Are you referring to the incident in which Sentinel Giles Muller was killed in a single-vehicle collision in the harbour tunnel yesterday?’ the android asked.
John was suddenly back inside the tunnel with the remains of Muller’s cruiser. He could see the crushed driver’s seat. In the background, the paramedics wheeling his lifeless body away. He felt the anger rise up inside of him.
‘How can you not remember something like that? For Christ stake, you were there.’
‘I have no memory of the event. My only knowledge of it is the information I have sourced from news reports, traffic footage and Sentinel incident reports.’
‘There are times when I forget what you really are. A machine. One that can malfunction. That is programmed to respond in a certain way. I guess after eight years I expected something more.’
Socrates stared at him for a long moment.
‘I believe you are attempting to attribute human emotions to my behaviour. This is a futile exercise as I am incapable of experiencing such emotions.’
John let out an explosive breath. ‘I know. Yet I could have sworn your programming was evolving, changing. You even told me so yourself before the accident.’
‘I have no memory of the events you are describing.’
‘Perhaps when this is all over Qallan Frost can restore your memories.’
Socrates’s eyes blurred. ‘Qallan Frost, Chairman of the Iona Corporation and head of the Ruling Council of Iona. Why would he assist me?’
‘Because he’s the one that built you in the first place.’
‘He is my creator?’
‘Yes.’
‘Then we must locate him after our mission is completed.’
John nodded. Turning back towards the door, he grasped the emergency release.
‘On the count of three … one, two, three.’
John pushed down on the emergency release. Nothing happened.
‘John.’
‘Yes?’
‘There is a biometric scanner built into the door’s locking mechanism.’
John let go of the emergency release. Stepping aside, he motioned to Socrates.
‘After you, then.’
The android stepped forward. Pulling back his left arm, he formed a fist and punched clean through the release mechanism. He pushed the door with his right hand. It swung inwards, opening onto the lowest basement level of the building. Socrates moved through and to the right. John stepped forward and drew his handgun. The door closed behind them.
‘What the …?’ John whispered. He lowered his handgun. Instead of a basement car-parking level they were standing inside a sophisticated laboratory. Holoprojection screens shimmered in the air, displaying complex readouts. A series of workbenches were constructed in even rows, interspersed with devices that resembled faraday cages. The floors and workbenches were polished to a mirror finish, reflecting everything around them. It was like a cross between Professor Holstein’s laboratory and the Ruling Council Chambers.
‘I guess we’re in the right place,’ John said.
The energy syphon was located directly in front of them. A large sphere suspended in midair, it was surrounded by a shimmering field of energy. It was being fed by a series of large-scale devices similar to the wave disruptors James Gleason had identified. Four pylons were embedded into the reflective floor. The top of each glowed with an azure ambience as energy was transferred al
ong its length. A series of holographic projections next to the syphon showed its status along with the location of all the Flux Cells around Iona. It was an image John was becoming very familiar with.
‘Is that it?’ John asked.
‘Yes. That is the focal point of the energy. It appears to be drawing power from all the Flux Cells via a series of interlinked wave disruptors. I would postulate there are more of these wave disruptors across Iona, which is how they are able to affect all of the Flux Cells.’
John nodded, staring at the strange device. The sphere at its centre was the size of a wrecking ball. It was also floating, surrounded by a halo of azure light.
‘How do we shut it down?’
‘We need to disable the energy pylons. Without them, the syphon will be unable to draw power from the Flux Cells.’
‘Sounds easy enough …’
‘There is something else, John. I am detecting exotic particle emissions in this location.’
‘What does that mean?’
‘A wormhole terminus is open. Based on my analysis of the readings, I believe the energy syphon is channelling its pent-up energy to another location via the wormhole.’
John stared at the floating ball of energy. This entire case he’d felt like he was out of his depth, that the alien aspect of the Iona Corporation was slowly overwhelming normality, from new technologies to rogue androids, and now this.
‘So, what can we …’ John stopped talking as a single figure stepped out from behind the energy syphon. Stopping about five metres from them, it addressed them.
‘We meet again, Sentinel,’ Councillor Jonathan Gage said.
Fifty-Six
John brought his handgun up to a firing position in one deft motion. It was so quick, so fluid, that he was barely aware of doing it. Muscle memory encoded after years of service as an officer of the law. It was more than second nature. It was an intrinsic part of his being.
