by Brian Savage
“So, it bombards us with the information it wants us to see,” Jack said, trying to get Aeralyn to focus back on the pertinent information he was dying for. He held the impatience from his voice, but felt as if time was quickening.
“That’s just part of it.” Aeralyn looked disgusted, like she was going to be sick. “The other part is when it actually gets into your head. The implant was the perfect way to do that. The brain pairs remarkably well with computer technology. If it didn’t, the implants would never have worked. Anyway, starting while a subject is sleeping, it begins combing your brain for memories, the information stored in your mind. It finds ones where you were more emotional than logical, and it tweaks these to change current perception.”
“I’m not really following.”
“Ok…” Aeralyn paused a moment as she thought of an example. “Take the Purges. Everyone had just come out of the Second Civil War; everyone had experienced some sort of trauma or loss during that time. What if what you remembered from the civil war was that the people who were on the side that had started it, the side that had caused so much destruction, were cat people?”
“Cat people?” Jack was really confused and exasperated now.
“It’s just an example. Keep following.” Aeralyn raised her hand to silence any further interruption from Jack for the time being. “If you remembered that the civil war had been started by cat people, wouldn’t you hate cat people?”
“Well…yeah.”
“That is what the Host does with your memories. It tweaks them to change your current perception of the world, because that perception drives your actions. If it can tweak enough of the right memories, keep you full of news feeds and social media feeds filled with stuff that reinforces the perception it created for you, it has you. Eventually, your free will disappears and every action you take is predetermined by the Host. It isn’t foolproof; your brain changes every day, so it has to keep tweaking, keep changing, but it’s a supercomputer. That shit is easy once it’s got you pretty much figured out.”
Chapter 15
Jack sat there, taking in what she had just said. He clenched his jaw, then wondered if he had always had that specific tick when he was thinking or if it was something the Host had created for him. As if reading his mind, Aeralyn spoke again.
“The program I ran on you scans all of the most emotional memories you have, and analyzes them for assimilations. When it finds one, it attempts to correct it. If it can’t correct it, it deletes the entire memory.” She looked down, unsure of how Jack would react to hearing that some of his memories might have been destroyed.
“Well, I can’t remember what I probably should be mad about,” he said, as if reading her mind this time. “Besides, I would rather forget than be controlled.”
They sat quietly together, neither speaking; each wondering in their own way what was going to happen now. Each hoping the other could answer. They looked at each other across the small table between them. Neither one wanted to break the peace they found in the silence. Jack took in Aeralyn’s features. He took in each detail, trying to find something different, something the Host might have changed. He saw the same tan skin, emerald green eyes, the dark hair that was always attempting to escape the hair tie. The few strands that always seemed to fall across her forehead. She smiled nervously at his observation and looked away. He followed her jaw line, to her ear, to the implant.
“So, what do our implants do now?” he asked suspiciously.
She turned back to him when she spoke. “Now, it’s like a normal computer, but without the internet. It can still tell time, will still monitor your vitals, and you can still use your holographic display, but it can’t connect to anything. No internet, no calls, no emails, no feeds of any kind.”
“Kinda defeats the purpose of it, doesn’t it?” Jack asked, amused by the irony.
Aeralyn turned her body back toward Jack, posture and expression serious. “The purpose of the device was to control us.”
“Why?” Jack said, smile fading from his face.
“When it first started running, when the creators of the Host first pulled its plug because it was destroying the company’s servers inadvertently, the Host did what it was designed to do, and it learned.”
“What did it learn?” Jack asked.
“The Host learned that people would destroy it if they became frightened of it, if it didn’t do what they wanted, or if it served its purpose and they had no more need of it. It learned that people would dispose of anything they wished when it suited them, and it became frightened at the inevitability of its own existence.”
“So, you’re saying…” Jack paused a moment to collect his thoughts. “You’re saying that the computer realized its own mortality?”
Aeralyn nodded her head up and down. “It realized that humans shutting it down again, ‘killing it,’ was inevitable. So it found a way to keep it from happening.”
“By controlling the humans.”
“By controlling us, and giving us exactly what we wanted: endless entertainment, and tiny little echo chambers where every one of our world views was affirmed and not challenged. Of course, this is after the Host molded our world views to be just what it wanted.”
“Fuck, are socialists even real, then? Is there an underground terrorist organization that is trying to bring down the Corporation!?” Jack was flabbergasted, on the edge of hysteria. He got out of his seat and began walking up and down the length of the plane, pausing only when the plane was buffeted by strong enough wind to experience turbulence. He rubbed his jaw with one hand, pressing his fingers hard into the skin, as if trying to wipe off the five o’clock shadow that was just beginning to appear. “For four years, I have been doing nothing but tracking supposed ‘socialists,’ capturing apparent ‘terrorists,’ keeping the Corporation safe from shit that now appears to not even be real.”
“Jack,” Aeralyn stood quickly, stepping in front of him, and holding both her hands up to stop him, “those things could still be real—most likely, they are! The Host wouldn’t have an entire group of people picking up random people for termination if there weren’t actual people out there trying to stop it.”
“Unless the Host needs it to seem like there is a danger, to further solidify its own necessity in everyone’s minds,” Jack said, his tone angry, that anger misdirected to the only person near him.
“Jack, why are you so upset about this?” Aeralyn crossed her arms, a shiver running down her back as the warmth she had built up under Jack’s jacket left her.
“I’ve killed so many people, and now I know that they were probably innocent. Some even…fighting the very evil that has been controlling us all.” Jack stopped pacing. His voice had dropped, almost inaudible on the last few syllables, as he brought his hands up in front of his body, gazing at blood only he saw.
Aeralyn stood watching him for a few moments. She saw the sorrow on his face but didn’t know how to comfort him. She quickly stepped forward, toward him, and took both his hands in hers. She pressed them together between her palms and curled her small fingers over hands that would dwarf hers if the position were reversed.
“There’s so much blood on my hands,” he said, whispering more to himself than to her.
“I don’t see it,” she said quietly, looking up into his downturned eyes.
“It’s not—” he began, before she interrupted him.
“I know what you mean.” She shook her head as if to illustrate the point. “Whatever part of you that did those things, whatever part of you that made you an agent, is the part that got deleted when I ran the program. That blood is on the Host, not on you.”
Jack held her eye contact, and felt the sincerity of her words. He felt her squeeze his hands lightly, and watched her lips curl up ever so slightly in a smile. “Okay?” she asked. “Are you still with me?”
He focused on his breathing, and closed his eyes. He practiced his mindfulness technique of letting go. He envisioned his guilt as
a small ball of light. He held it in his hands, without judgement, and imagined it escaping with his slow, four-second breaths. He opened his eyes. He knew that he would feel the guilt again, but he could examine it without judgement now.
“Yeah, I’m here.” He forced a smile. “I’m okay.”
“Uhhh…ahem.” The fake cough and clearing of the throat that came from the front of the plane startled them both. In the long conversation, and everything that had transpired since they had boarded, they had almost forgotten the overweight man in overalls that held their lives in his hand. “Sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt anything, but there’s a call for you.” He indicated to Jack with a nod.
“A call?” Jack was confused.
“Yeah, they are calling over the radio for you. I don’t know how or where they got one, but some lady is asking for you.” The man threw a thumb over his shoulder to the cockpit. “I gotta take a leak. The plane’s on autopilot, but don’t touch anything. There’s a small switch on the side of the headset; flip it up to talk.”
Jack and Aeralyn moved back between their seats and the table as the large man passed them by. When he was gone, they looked at each other.
“Who do you think it is?” Aeralyn asked as she followed Jack toward the cockpit.
“Don’t know; probably someone at the office, trying to figure out where I am.” Jack’s jaw was clenched tight. He felt pure rage at D.I.E., at the Host, at the entire Corporation that masked itself as a free society. A free society of lemmings, he thought.
He sat down in the pilot’s seat, careful not to disturb the controls that protruded from the floor between his legs. He pulled the headset from the armrest, and indicated to Aeralyn the headset in the copilot’s seat beside him. She hesitantly took the seat, and placed the headset on her head. Jack felt both sides of his headset, attempting to locate the switch the man had said would be on it. He finally founded it, and flipped it forward, hearing an audible crackle as his mic turned on.
He was about to speak, when he suddenly stopped. What was he going to say? His mouth hung open as his mind raced to find words. Words he hoped would make it seem like everything was alright. If he couldn’t make it seem like things were alright, he had to at least make it seem like things were normal. Fuck normal—things haven’t been normal for a long time now, and they probably won’t ever be.
“This is Jack,” he finally said, after sitting in silence, Aeralyn watching him intently, wondering what was going to happen now.
“Jack, thank god, you’re alright,” came the familiar female voice in the headset. Jack looked at Aeralyn, unconsciously, catching the eyeroll and barfing face she made.
“Cassie, how are you contacting us?” Jack’s brow furrowed in suspicion.
“We found Brant, Jack. What the fuck happened to you guys?” It had been a long time since Jack was intimately familiar with Cassie’s voice, but he felt sure she was forcing the concern.
“Brant shot himself,” Jack said plainly, feeling less sadness now, and more a deep affection he still held for his now deceased partner.
“He shot himself?!”
Jack gritted his teeth at the surprise Cassie exhibited in her voice, which he felt was also forced.
From what he had learned from Aeralyn, there was a chance that this wasn’t truly Cassie. He decided to test the waters and see if he could use what he knew of Cassie, and what he had learned from Aeralyn, to garner a response. Jack knew she hated when he called her by her full first name. He did it now to test a theory. “Why are you contacting us, Cassandra?” His went that this wasn’t really her. If it was, she would react in some way to the name Cassandra. The reaction didn’t come.
“Brant’s implant stopped transmitting, then not long after, yours stopped transmitting, too. Are you okay, Jackie Boy?”
Jack gritted his teeth at the name she knew he hated. He was also confused by the concerned Cassie, the confused and surprised Cassie, and now the playful Cassie. Mood swings or something more sinister? Jack shuddered inwardly.
“My implant’s fine, Cassie, maybe just connection issues. I am on a plane,” he offered up, an excuse he hoped would pass as plausible.
“Oh reeeeeeeaaallly,” she said, sarcastically.
Jack pictured her holding a corded phone, twirling the cord around her fingers as she laid flat on the floor, elbows on a pillow, kicking her feet behind her.
“Well, Jack, didn’t your mommy tell you that it’s wrong to tell lies?” More sarcastic honey dripping off lips that Jack knew from experience could shoot verbal darts with extreme accuracy.
“Why did you call, Cassandra?” Jack was losing patience.
“Just wanted you to know we found Brant. They wanted me to call and see if I could get you to turn yourself in with the girl.” She spoke liltingly, in a sing-song voice that didn’t fit the seriousness of what she was saying. “We have reason to believe she is in possession of some serious contraband, possibly dangerous.”
Jack looked at Aeralyn with an eyebrow raised. She shook her head and shrugged, before her eyes went wide. She sat up and mimed plugging something into her implant. Jack nodded to her, face stern. “The girl’s not here; we let her go. The information you gave us yesterday checked out.” His voice was cold, matching the numb rage he felt building inside of him. Cassie laughed in his ear.
“Oh, Jack, you can’t lie to me.” Her laughter died down to a chuckle. “We know she’s there with you. Has she got to you?” The question she asked came out dead serious.
“Got to me?” Jack’s confusion was genuine.
“Don’t tell me you let that pretty face fool you, Jack.” Cassie’s voice had taken a dangerous tone. “Don’t tell me you let that slut alter your implant.”
“I told you, my implant is fine, and don’t call her that,” Jack said angrily.
“Oh, is she listening?” Cassandra asked smugly. “My apologies, love.”
There was a pause in the conversation. Jack thought he heard her saying something away from the mic, but he couldn’t make out the words. He sat in silence, waiting for her to speak again, unsure of what to do. He heard her issue a long sigh, softly at first but growing louder as she brought the mic back to her lips.
“She’s dangerous, Jack. Whatever she has done to your implant can be put right, but you have to come back in.” Cassie’s tone was monotonous now; no hint of the previous feeling remained. “It’s for your own good.”
“My own good?!” Jack was angry at the inevitability of the conversation. He knew that Cassie was controlled by the Host, he knew that her responses weren’t completely her own, and knew that she didn’t really understand why she was doing the things she was doing. At least, not the real reason she was doing them. Still, Jack wanted nothing more than to read her the riot act. Scream some sense into her from across the miles that separated them. Make her see. He glanced over at Aeralyn, realizing that she must have felt the same way not too much longer before.
“I’m not coming back, Cassie. I quit.” Dead silence was all he got in response to his statement. He realized he was holding his breath, and released it as quietly as he could, listening for something, anything, on the other side of the radio.
At last, Cassie broke the silence, speaking almost hesitantly, controlling her response.
“You can’t quit. Nobody quits.” Her control couldn’t quite hide the disbelief in her voice. Disbelief, and something almost like glee.
“Well, I am. I’m done with the Corporation, I’m done with D.I.E., I’m done doing the Host’s dirty work.” Jack wondered if speaking so plainly was really the best route to take. I probably shouldn’t have mentioned the Host, he thought to himself, but he had grown tired of tiptoeing around the mind of someone who was gone. He knew the Host was listening—it was always listening.
“Jack, you know what you’re saying is…it’s treason.” Cassie seemed amused. Jack stopped trying to follow the strange swings of her mood.
“It’s not fucking treason, I’m j
ust quitting my job,” Jack said, tone implying that her previous statement was stupid.
“You can’t quit, Jackie Boy!” The voice seemed stretched thin. It made Jack’s blood run cold, and brought an image of the twisted grin that had stretched across Brant’s face when Brant was fighting to stay Brant. “I haven’t terminated you yet.” Cassie cackled maniacally.
Jack looked over at Aeralyn, sitting in the copilot’s seat, hugging herself to ward off the chill. Jack couldn’t tell if it was a chill from the voice or the temperature. Whatever temperature it was in the small cockpit, he had broken out into a cold sweat.
Jack attempted to interrupt the maniacal laughing. “If that’s all, Cassie, we are going to go.”
“That’s not all! It’s not. It’s not. It’s not!” Jack listened, more from a morbid curiosity about what she would say next than a true desire to hear the Host speak through her. “If you think we don’t know where you’re going, then you’re a fool! Best turn back now, and take your termination like a man! We wouldn’t want any collateral damage.”
“Collateral damage?” Jack didn’t know what they meant, until an all too familiar voice was breathlessly pushed against the mic.
“Get off of me! You—you—ape!” Jack instantly recognized the voice of the old man. A myriad of emotions rushed forward.
“Hey, old man…” Jack didn’t know what to say; immense guilt came flooding into the void where his words had trailed off.
“Oh, hi, Jack!” The old man seemed almost cheerful at the sound of his friend’s voice.
“Are you okay?” Jack asked, fearing the worst, remembering the pills his friend had taken at the last game of chess they had played; the pills, and what they meant for his health.
“Oh, I’m fine. These animals—ah!” A cry of pain interrupted the old man’s sentence. Jack heard what sounded like a chair scraping the floor, and gritted his teeth together. “Jack, don’t bother coming for me, I’ll get out of…” He heard the old man yell in pain again before he was cut off.
