by Phoenix Ward
They took another turn, taking a less-traveled road that ran parallel to the main street in their precinct. Abenayo liked to take this route in hopes of a teachable moment for Tera. The road seemed to attract lowlifes from all over Slumside who sought shelter from prying eyes, and Abenayo knew it. The slum dwellers didn’t seem to catch onto that fact, however.
Only a few humans hung out in the side road. Most just used it to get where they need to go, but a few loiter on crummy little porches barely wide enough for one to sit on. A faint cloud of smoke lingered in the air and Tera heard one of the people cough. She recognized the sweet odor of Mist, a drug that had been outlawed by the Council.
The narcotic was a variation of an old drug called Fog, which played an important part in mankind’s downfall. The installed intelligences of the old world used it to degrade human brains to the point where it was easy to Jump into their neural implants and control their bodies. They used that control to knock humans off the podium of global dominance. A version of Fog was still produced by the Council and distributed to the people in the cities, but it wasn’t necessary. The humans were already complacent and soft.
The Mist variation of the drug was illegal, however. It gave the user a euphoric high like Fog did, but instead of causing passive brain damage, it caused mechanical issues in their implants. Also, it sent the user into either a deep slumber or a paranoid fit.
“Hey!” Abenayo barked at a group of three slum dwellers gathered on one of the makeshift stoops.
The smoke came from them, according to Tera’s sensors. They seemed to know they were busted as they tried to hide their pipes and needles and hoses, their eyes wide with concern.
“I saw that!” Abenayo said, stepping up and seizing one of their Mist pipes. “You know this shit is illegal, right?”
Slowly, they all nodded. None of them said a word.
“Get rid of it now and don’t let me see it again,” the senior officer ordered them. “If I catch you with that stuff, I’m sending you off to the camps, got it? You don’t want that, do you?”
They shook their heads.
One of them stared at the pipe in her hand, the drug only half-smoked inside. His eyes watched longingly as Abenayo took the pipe with her. Tera followed her partner as they walked away from the junkies.
“They won’t get rid of it,” Abenayo commented once they were out of earshot.
“Pity,” Tera replied.
She couldn’t imagine the misery that was life in one of the labor camps. Perhaps she would never be able to picture it since she didn’t have a human body. She didn’t know what exhaustion felt like, how aching muscles or hunger affects the body. The super-rich I.I.s in the city might know better, since they could afford human bodies to live in. However, she doubted any of them felt hunger or fatigue. Someone with that kind of money wasn’t doing their own labor. They weren’t going without food.
Still, she knew enough about the camps to understand why people feared them so much. It was the only effective deterrent in a society this miserable. Prison time and fines are no threat to someone who lives in the slums.
They left the seedy alley and turned onto one of the residential lanes that connected to the main street. Tera saw an old woman with a rag over her head ushering a young boy back into their shack. The dwelling looked barely big enough for the two of them to lie down inside.
Abenayo stopped short and Tera took a few steps before noticing. When she looked back, her partner had a look of amusement on her robotic features.
“Come look at this,” Abenayo said. She was staring at one of the electrical poles that lined the street.
Tera walked over to where her superior stood and followed her gaze. Someone had stapled a flyer to the pole for passersby to see.
MORTALITY GOT YOU DOWN?
WE CAN HELP YOU LEAVE THIS LIFE BEHIND
AND JOIN OUR I.I. SUPERIORS.
FIND THE SHEDDERS AND ASCEND TO A HIGHER EXISTENCE.
A confused laugh escaped Tera’s auditory output. She looked over and saw Abenayo with an expression of humor she had never seen in her partner’s face.
“Oh, I’m sure this club will be real popular with the slum dwellers,” the senior officer joked. “Everyone knows they love installed intelligences. They probably can’t wait to get installed.”
Tera laughed a little more.
“This has to be a joke, right?” she said.
“That, or someone’s about to be really unpopular around here,” Abenayo replied. Her face became serious after she looked at the flyer again. “Best to report this, just in case something comes of it.”
“Good idea,” Tera said. “Could get messy.”
Abenayo nodded in agreement. “And God knows they’ll send us in to clean it up,” she said.
Scoreboard
Ethan could hear the sounds of children laughing and screaming in the distance, toward the roller coaster and other rides. A medley of arcade noises, carnival music, clunking machinery, and ringing bells washed in with the sound of the waves. Some seagulls would sing out their shrill honks, but the wind carried most of the commotion away.
“Man, I wonder how many other kids have beat the Ghoul King,” Sharpe said. He reached out and touched each baluster of the boardwalk’s railing as they walked.
“Not many, I think,” Ethan replied. “Otherwise, we’d start hearing of strategies on how to do it. I mean, it took us nearly nineteen years to pull it off.”
“Yeah, but I mean, we weren’t trying to fight the Ghoul King when we were babies,” Sharpe argued. “We’ve had maybe ten good years of practice. Man, I wonder what we’d be able to do if we could stay in the simulation forever.”
They passed one of the major intersections of the boardwalk map they were loaded into. Couples carried cotton candy past carnies who were trying to egg someone on to play their rigged carnival games.
“Want to go into the market?” Ethan asked.
Sharpe followed his gaze with uncertain eyes. “I dunno,” he replied. “What would we do? I don’t have many credits to spend. I put almost everything I got from the Ghoul King into my home base. Added some Weeping Angels to the great hall. Should really creep out my next guests.”
“I was thinking of maybe going to the strongman show,” Ethan said, gazing down the wooden road.
Sharpe smirked. “Trying to pump up that score before the big day, eh?” he asked.
“I’m only at 13,029 points,” Ethan said, a bit of concern in his tone. “I have to do something. My nineteenth birthday is only a week away.”
“Yeah, I guess you don’t wanna be stuck with something boring like software sales because of a shitty score,” Sharpe said. “Not when you could do something like space exploration.”
“‘Ethan the Martian,’ ” Ethan said in a joking manner. “I like the sound of it.”
“No one would call you that because you wouldn’t be the first one there,” Sharpe said. “And it’s not like you were born there, so no one would call you a Martian if you, like, weren’t on Mars —”
“Alright, I get it,” Ethan interrupted. “Some other planet then.”
“Don’t worry, man,” Sharpe said. “Even with your score, you’ll still be going into a utopia. The worst-case scenario would still look like an island vacation to the people of the past. They’d shit themselves if they knew.”
“That’s what they say,” Ethan said.
Sharpe picked up on the restless air in his friend’s voice.
“Hey, I’ll help you raise your score before your graduation if you want,” he said. “We could get you up to like 15,000 if we really grind.”
“Maybe later,” Ethan said. “Come on, let’s see what’s going on down at the beach.”
He didn’t know what he wanted to do. He wasn’t even sure if he was worried about his score or something else. Maybe it was just the anxiety of the impending birthday.
Nineteen. The age when everyone leaves the simulation. They called it a gradu
ation, but to Ethan, it seemed more like a birth. He would be entering a whole new world. The real world.
They approached the end of the boardwalk where a path began to lead to the beach. There were several torches lining the way, evenly spaced out to provide a clear snake of illumination.
“You know what I wanna do when I get unplugged?” Sharpe asked as they leisurely made their way to the beach. “I wanna run my own video game simulation universe. You know, like the sim here, but for everyone. With even more content, too. It would be amazing, I tell you.”
“I just wish we knew more about what we’re getting into,” Ethan said. “I know they teach us a lot, but it’s all academic stuff. None of that’s going to matter when we see it firsthand. I want to know what it’s going to feel like. What I will do with my days. All the stuff you can’t learn by reading about it and watching videos.”
“That’s an answer you’re just going to have to find out,” Sharpe replied. “Nadia knows already. Lucky chick.”
“I miss her,” Ethan said, recalling their older friend. She had been the one to show them the Ghoul King adventure in the first place. “I can’t believe it’s only been six months since her graduation.”
“I know,” Sharpe replied. “It feels like so much longer.”
“I wonder what she’s up to.”
“Oh, I bet she’s a hotshot C.E.O. of some racing company or something,” Sharpe said. “You know her. She’s fierce. No matter where she is or what she’s doing, I’m sure she’s kicking ass at it.”
“I just wish she could come back,” Ethan started, “for a visit, you know. So she could tell us what it’s like out there. Or even just to play some adventures together.”
“Yeah, it would be nice to know what we’ve got in store for us,” Sharpe said. “A heads up.”
They walked through the artificial sand and looked at the ocean. The waves crashed against the beach in metered succession. A few of the birds that made up part of the background noise flew off into the darkening sky.
“Speaking of Nadia,” Sharpe started after a long quiet, “what do you say to some hoverbike racing? That was always one of her favorites. I could always load up the Rainbow Road track.”
Ethan didn’t say anything. Instead, he just stared at the waves.
“Or we could go catch an old flick at the theater,” Sharpe continued. “I heard they got some Mel Brooks comedies playing.”
“Nah,” Ethan said after a moment. “I think I’m just going to call it a night. Get some rest, you know.”
“You gonna get some dinner, too?” Sharpe joked. As residents of the simulation, they naturally didn’t get hungry or sleepy.
“I wish.” Ethan chuckled. “Goodnight, Sharpe.”
“Night, buddy,” Sharpe replied. “Don’t get too worked up about the big day. A week’s a long time!”
Ethan smiled at his friend before disconnecting from the boardwalk map. Once all the shapes stopped fading and reloading, he found himself in his virtual home base. It was small, but cozy. More like a little home than a fortress, like some of the other sim kids had. But he preferred to keep it humble. He liked getting from his treasure room to his bed in short trips.
A bit of torch fire, not unlike those on the beach, lined his walls. They were digital flames, so they didn’t need fuel and there was no risk of them burning anything. He rather liked the ambiance they provided. They made the place feel warmer, more like home.
Even though he was just a human brain in a simulation with all his nutrients being fed to him by some mechanical process or another, he felt tired. Maybe it was the excitement surrounding their victory over the Ghoul King. Or maybe, it was more nerves about the impending birthday.
As he laid down in his virtual bed, he stared up at the canopy above it. He started to close his eyes and picture what it would be like to open them again, but in an entirely different bed. A whole new world.
The real world, Ethan thought. I wonder where I am in it.
The Motel
If Tera had skin, it would be crawling. She thought the streets of Slumside were pretty unappealing, but that’s because she didn’t know what the insides of some people’s shacks looked like.
The woman across from her lit another cigarette, staining the filter with her violet lipstick. The smoke rose up through the still air and into her eye, causing her to blink in pain. Her long false eyelashes waved at her like the wings of some sickly moth.
Tera could tell from her complexion that the woman spent almost all of her time indoors. It wasn’t a terribly healthy way to live, but Tera understood it. The chances of getting robbed, stabbed, or raped were much slimmer inside the frail shacks than out. If there isn’t a cop somewhere in eyesight, anything was free game on the street. Only the tough, the delusional, or the crazy thrived out there.
The couch Tera sat in smelled of dried urine and body odor. The entire left cushion was uncovered, surrounded by the stuffing that had once filled it, and the right one had a huge gash on the top. It looked like someone had slashed it open in search of a hiding spot.
Like rats do, Tera reflected.
She was on her first solo case since graduating from the academy. Abenayo got tied up at the scene of some shooting or another before Tera’s shift began, so she was forced to proceed alone. She received a call right away that brought her to this shithole to respond to reports of theft. Generally, a matter such as this was below the attention of the Council police, which is why it had been tossed to her. As a rookie, she needed to earn better cases, and the only way to do that was to start at the bottom.
And what a bottom it was.
Camila, the woman across from her, seemed like she might fall asleep between every sentence. Her words slurred together as she tried to articulate her story and she struggled to keep her eyes open. Tera felt secondhand discomfort for the woman as she seemed to be slouching against some hideous stain on her armchair.
Probably strung out on something right now, Tera thought. Doesn’t look like heroin, though — she’s far too alert. Unless she has a resistance, that is.
Camila was something the slum dwellers called a “motel.” She was a prostitute that specialized in I.I. clients — ones that wanted to feel what it was like to have a body. She “rented” her body out, so to speak, to anyone who was willing to pay the price. She would open her mind up and let them take over, paying her on an hourly basis as they did whatever they liked with her. Naturally, she attracted some real creeps, and one of them apparently saw fit to rob her blind.
“So, what happened after your client contacted you?” Tera asked. The microphone and camera in her bodyshell were recording the whole conversation.
“We set up the meet like usual,” Camila replied. “His bodyshell seemed nice. It looked like he had some money.”
“Then you let him mindshare with you?”
“That’s right.”
“What happened then?”
“That’s the thing,” Camila said. “The son of a bitch took some pill thing he brought along with him. A roofie or something like it. I don’t remember anything that happened after. He drugged me out of my own body, and when I came to, all of my cash was gone.”
“Was anything else missing?” Tera asked.
Camila seemed to resist a little. Her eyes darted around the grime-covered shack as she mulled something over in her head.
“You can tell me,” Tera said. “We won’t be holding you responsible for anything illegal he may have stolen.”
“He took my stash, too,” the motel replied after some hesitation.
“Your stash?”
“You know,” Camila said, blushing a little. “My drugs.”
“I see,” Tera replied. “How much?”
“Over four-hundred capsules,” the motel answered.
“Capsules?”
“Of kip. You know the stuff.”
“I do,” Tera said. Her training covered all kinds of narcotics education. The drug Camila was re
ferring to was a tranquilizer.
That explains the droopy eyelids, the police officer thought.
“Anything else?” she asked the motel.
“A gun,” Camila replied. There was a sheepish quality to her body language.
“What make?”
“It’s homemade,” Camila said. “There’s no model number.”
“Caliber?”
“.32.”
“You know there’s a law against makeshift firearms, right?” Tera asked.
An indignant twitch furrowed Camila’s brow. “You told me you wouldn’t hold me responsible,” she said.
“We won’t, because we can’t,” Tera replied. “But if you are ever caught with one in your possession —”
“I know, I know,” Camila said. “Don’t worry, I won’t be getting a new one. Not like I could afford it anyway.”
Tera reflected on the bulletpoints she had notated on her digital notepad. She couldn’t help but feel like this was a complete waste of her time. There was no chance they would find the guy who robbed her, especially since he’s an installed intelligence. There was even less chance of recovering the money, the gun, or the drugs. Tera was only here because no one wanted to babysit her, and they didn’t trust her with an actual case.
Tera started to sigh, but caught herself.
“Is there anything else, Camila?” she asked. She prayed to God that she’d say “no.” She wanted to be out of that disgusting dwelling as soon as possible.
How does someone spend a whole day in this place, let alone their lives? she wondered.
“Well, I guess not,” the motel replied. “Are you gonna catch the guy? I’d love to have a few minutes alone with him without his sick-fuck pills.”
Tera looked down into her lap. “Honestly, Camila, I don’t think so,” she said. She had no idea why she felt the urge to be frank, but she could see the woman across from her was not pleased by it.
“What do you mean?” the human asked.
“I mean that if you didn’t let creeps like this use your body like some sort of communal toilet paper, you wouldn’t have this issue,” Tera said. The logic in her brain was telling her to shut up, but it was too late. The floodgate was open. “There are people out there with real problems that I could be helping right now, real problems that they didn’t create, Camila. And instead, I’m here in this shithole listening to a whore lament about her missing dope. Do you see something wrong with this picture?”
