by Ryan Rinsler
“I think Nolan’s settling in OK,” said Jacob. “I’m not sure he’ll ever be OK with you though.”
“No, me neither. Not from what Mana said.”
“Mana’s the leader over there, yes?”
“Yeah, I can’t actually work out why or what he does though. He looks like a military guy so I guess that’s what he does, but I daren’t ask. I just know he’s the leader of it all.”
“And what did he say about Nolan?”
“He didn’t go into specifics but it sounds like I… well, he had a lot to do with it.”
“Whatever it was he doesn’t look like he’ll forget it in a while,” said Jacob. “But it doesn’t matter, he chats to me and I think he’ll work with Matt. You just need to do your thing over there.”
Connor nodded and ate some more toast. “I don’t like it,” he said quietly.
“Going over there?”
“It wasn’t too bad this time because we weren’t in their world, but theirs, their world, it’s too close to home.”
“It does sound pretty scary.”
“Scary I can deal with, dad. It’s other things.”
There was a moment of silence between the two.
“Go on.”
“There are people we’ve lost, here. Both of us.”
Jacob seemed to tense up. “Yes, I... “
“It’s been on my mind for a few weeks now,” continued Connor. “It’s on my mind whenever we talk about their world. The thought of seeing him again.”
“It’s best not to think about all that,” said Jacob, beginning to clear the table.
“You’re probably right. Why, though... here’s a thing, dad, why can’t my brain control what my brain thinks about? Why does it think about things that it doesn’t want to think about?”
“It’s a good question, son. I don’t have a scientific answer, apart from memories are stored and accessed in a different way than conscious thoughts, but from a philosophical standpoint it may be similar to why we dream.”
“Oh yeah? And why’s that?”
“They say we dream to reset our mind. To analyze the data we have stored in there and work it all out so we can use it to make better decisions.”
Connor was skeptical.
“Think of a nightmare you’ve had,” continued Jacob. “Let’s say this nightmare was that you fell off the side of a boat and began drowning. They say that’s your brain teaching itself to be careful. Things like that.”
“And you think that’s the same?”
“Well, I don’t know. I guess if you never thought about bad things, you’d never learn from them.”
Connor took his last mouthful of toast. “Maybe,” he mumbled. “Not sure why thinking about these bad things in particular would help me in any way.”
“It’s your mind preparing you for that situation.”
He paused to think about it. “I don’t know what I’d do.”
“No. Like I said, best not to think about these things.”
Connor laughed. “Can I ask about your guns?”
“Ah, yes, I wanted to speak to you about that.”
“Yeah?”
“Yes, I think it’s time you had some training,” said Jacob.
“I was thinking the same, but they’re illegal in like, all but two states, right?”
“Not illegal as such. The permit you need now is impossible to get a hold of unless you’ve been in law enforcement for over ten years. Even then it’s virtually as impossible.”
“Not in Colorado though, I guess.”
“Try taking the guns from Coloradans or Texans and you’ll find yourself in the middle of a mutiny. The rest of the states rolled over pretty easily.”
“So I wouldn’t be able to carry one with me?”
Jacob looked at him mischievously. “You wouldn't want to get caught with one, put it that way.”
“And here’s me thinking you were such a model citizen.”
“Ah, there’s nothing wrong with a bit of tinkering around,” he said. “As long as no one gets hurt.”
“Isn’t the point of carrying a gun so that someone could get hurt?”
“Hmmm, yes but not the good guy, right?”
Connor wobbled his head in tentative agreement. “So where can I get this training?”
Jacob looked comically put out. “How dare you?” he exclaimed.
“You have skills with guns?”
“It was the first thing I did when I got to America. I took a two month course in self-protection with a force multiplier and got my certificate. I can train people for a living.”
Connor laughed in surprise. “It seems there’s a lot I don’t know about you, dad.”
“Yes, it’s best not to talk about the twenties,” he replied, jumping out of his seat and taking the plates to the sink. Connor smiled to himself. He was beginning to see a different side to Jacob than he’d known — a friend, more than a father. They’d never really had an argument, not like fathers and sons do. They’d had the odd bicker, where Jacob would have to be stern from time to time, as with any teenager, but they’d both had unique situations that had drawn them out of that father — son struggle before they’d even met. Connor had witnessed a youth that would break the strongest of people, and Jacob saw him as someone who needed his help, not his authority. Their relationship just clicked, and was essentially what dragged Connor out of the quicksand and back to reality. It was easy to forget as they drifted into their ordinary lives, having ordinary experiences and ordinary days. It would only take a brief thought of the old days for Connor to remember how amazing he felt the first few weeks in Jacob’s care, but the problem was, he would always stop himself from thinking. That was the way he would cope. His new life in Philadelphia drew a line in the sand, a sill between his old life and the new. He would put his lack of communication with Jacob down to this, purposefully closing door on his past, but really he knew deep down it was just because he’d become lazy and complacent. With that aside, the business of entering worlds not like his own, where the past was radically different, was playing on his mind, and he could see from Jacob’s previous reaction when talking about it, that it was playing on his mind too. Connor knew it wouldn’t be a personal thing for Jacob — he would never jump to another universe — his concern would be for Connor, not himself. But even then, for Jacob, just the thought of his wife Chloe being alive in another universe would be like a splinter in his mind, just as the thought of Connor’s brother still being alive was a splinter in his. It was likely that he was still alive, but in what capacity he had no way of knowing. He’d said to Jacob he didn’t know what he would do if he ever came face to face with Michael, and he meant it. It took him years, decades to get over his loss, especially after the way it happened, and just the fact there could be a universe where he is living and breathing — even happy — both excited Connor and filled him with a dread that ran so deep he could barely sit still should it cross his mind.
He was happy to be working toward something, his mind being kept busy by Mana and the consultation with Dr. Mura, but now he had to wait — he had to wait for Matt to do his thing, and trust that he can do it. For all his failings, Matt and computers were one and the same. He could write programming code like his first language, and his instinctiveness and abilities when it came to technology would always wow Connor to the point of laughter, but he never thought the fate of so many would ever rest on Matt’s shoulders, at least for the time being.
Oh well.
“OK dad, let’s see about those guns.”
20
Stanley ducked into every side street and doorway as he made his way to the sandwich shop, the Gyros zipping by overhead. The bunker was the only place he could go, but even then, he had no idea if it was safe. Although it was early afternoon the sky was growing dark with rain clouds, and the wind was picking up. The janitor’s jacket he was wearing billowed in the wind, and he was still carrying the mop bucket for some reason. Cars passed hi
m without incident, people on their way to work, or on their way home. He kept his head down nevertheless, watching for anything or anyone that appeared official.
Suddenly his fears were confirmed as a black SUV approached. He turned back on himself and ducked down a large alley between two small office buildings and hid behind a wall, peering around as the car crept nearer. It slowed to a halt at the entrance of the alley. He quickly took a few more steps and took cover in a doorway, squeezing himself out of sight as tightly as possible. A car door opened, and out climbed a scout. She was wearing all black, like a tactical uniform, and was holding a taser with two hands below her waist. She stared down the alley for a few moments before taking a few steps forward. Stanley, who was less than twenty meters away from her, tried the door, knowing it would be locked. He peered around the edge of the wall again, just a centimeter, to see the woman treading carefully toward him, checking gaps and doorways. Ten meters away. Stanley began to panic. She wasn’t stopping. Five meters.
He had to act.
He pulled a set of keys from his pocket and stepped out of the doorway confidently, dropped the mop bucket that he was still carrying, then turned and proceeded to pretend to lock the door behind him.
“Stop!”
He flinched dramatically, maybe overly so. “Woah!” he shouted, raising his hands at the taser pointing at him.
“State your name.”
He said the first name he could think of — one from a Pure Reality experience he had recently sent someone into. “Jun Kagawa,” he said quickly.
“What are you doing here?”
He hesitated, then looked at the bucket next to him. She lowered the taser slowly, then holstered it. “OK, on your way.”
He shook his head with a sigh and picked up the bucket, then walked swiftly further down the alley. The woman returned to the car and they set off. He waited for a few minutes, then ditched the bucket and jacket and set off running. He had to get to safety.
After a few minutes of careful jogging down back streets and alleyways, he made it to Daisy’s Deli. He stopped and stared at the locked front door. It should be open.
He searched his memory for the instructions Daisy had given him in the event of him needing access to the bunker when the shop was closed. Key. Something about a key. He walked around the side of the shop, where there were two overflowing bins. Holding his breath he crouched next to them and reached behind, tapping gently on the grubby floor in the vain hope he would stumble upon the key for the window. Without a massive effort to find it, he stood up again and looked around. Maybe it’s somewhere else. Realizing there wasn’t really anything else around, he kicked aside a couple of boxes and dragged out one of the bins slightly.
“This way,” came a bark from around the corner. It was Ella. He jogged around to meet her at the front door, where she was busy unlocking it with the key. “Quickly,” she said, ducking inside and holding open the door. He walked in and without turning around headed to the room containing the bunker entrance. He opened the door and reached to switch on the light. Ella quickly grabbed his arm to stop him doing so, and pushed him gently into the room, closing the door behind her. Despite there being a small window, the room was almost pitch black, but after a few seconds his eyes adjusted and he walked and helped Ella, who was already dragging the sofa away from the trap door. She opened the hatch and climbed in without hesitation, but Stanley paused. The bunker was creepy enough when the room was well lit — now, with Stanley not even sure when he would be seeing daylight again, it looked like a trapdoor to an eternity of darkness. It’s a trapdoor to staying alive, he thought, defying his fears and stepping in anyway.
Ella flicked on her flashlight as he reached the floor and rifled through a pile of things at the back of the small room. She pulled out a lamp and plugged it in, and despite the bright white strip light blinding Stanley as he looked at it, it didn’t have much of an effect on the general brightness of the bunker itself.
“That’s as good as you’re gonna get,” she said, swinging round her backpack. “I couldn’t get you much, just a PortoRep and about two week’s worth of juice.”
She took out the small portable Replicator and placed it on a wooden table, and turned to face him. “You gonna be OK down here?”
“I’m, umm…”
“It’s OK Stan,” she said with a nod. “We’ve got your back. There’s already word gone to your family so they’re gonna be safe. We just need to get you off the compound, which ain’t gonna be easy. At least not at the moment.”
“Did you see what happened to Neil?”
“No, but I heard about it. Didn’t you hit him or something?”
“I had no choice, he was going to call someone. He was acting like some kind of zombie robot.”
“Yeah that’s what I heard. What’s that about?”
“I think it’s the beginning,” he said.
“The beginning?”
“He was speaking like them.”
Ella paused in thought, her eyes fixated on Stanley’s. “Them,” she said with a single nod.
He nodded in reply. “It wasn’t exactly the same, but it was like he was reading a script, or like he’d been sedated and fed his lines through an earpiece.”
“So, what are you telling me? That we’re gonna lose this place too?”
“I don’t know, but this is the start.”
“Hang on,” said Ella, “wasn’t it you who developed all that technology in the first place? Over there?”
“Yes, well, the alternate me.”
“And you don’t do it now?”
“No. What’s with the questions?”
“I need to know what you know. Who is in charge of it now you’re not doing it? Can’t we just kidnap them and find out what they know?”
“No way, it’s some German guy from Homeland Security. He’s not even a tech,” said Stanley with disdain. “He wouldn’t know what a NanoHive is, let alone be able to tell us how it works. Plus he’s from Homeland so he’d probably be able to take down ten of us in one go.”
“So what is it? This NanoHive.” she asked.
“When I was anything to do with that department, NanoHive was just an idea. You’ve heard of collective cognition, right?”
“I program security protocols Stanley,” she said with her palms raised. “I know literally nothing about NanoTech.”
“Collective cognition isn’t about NanoTech, it’s more of a social thing. The basic idea is that as a group of people you share thoughts on an unconscious level.”
“Like telepathy?”
“No, not in a literal sense. It’s the idea that a group of people will more often than not make the same decisions.”
“And this has something to do with zombie Neil how?”
“NanoHive is an idea that a collection of NanoBots can make decisions that determine the outcome of the whole group.”
“Still not following.”
Stanley sighed and scratched his forehead. “It’s difficult to explain.”
“OK, well I don’t really have time for a robotics lesson,” she said. “I’ve got enough to be going on with. Are you gonna be alright down here?”
“Not really.”
“Well suck it up man,” she said. “We’ll try and get word to you if anything comes out.”
“What happened with Connor Cooper? Did you make contact?”
“I’ve not heard back yet but I think someone did, yes.”
He sighed again. “Some hope at least. So what’s next?”
“No-one’s really sure. Now we’ve got a track on him we’ll hopefully be able to find out where he lives and keep in contact with him, then hopefully we can move on it.”
“You need to get him back here.”
“Are you kidding?”
“It’s the only way.”
“No, no, no, no,” she said quickly. “There’s no way he’s coming anywhere near this place.”
“Silk have no way of identifying h
im as long as it’s insiders who deal with him.”
“No. It’s suicide.”
“What else are we supposed to do? Sit him down and tell him ‘actually Pure Reality isn’t a simulation, it’s alternate universes and, oh, in all these alternative universes you’re a global villain who we’re all trying to take down’?”
“So? What do you plan on doing when he gets here?”
“He has to see it for himself.”
“You’re gonna send him in?”
“It’s the only way.”
21
Connor reached for his pistol, fumbling with it before eventually wrestling out of his hip holster and getting it in his grasp.
“Don’t draw from the drop,” said Jacob, holding his pistol a foot away from Connor’s head. They were in the garden, the sun on their backs, with Connor having self-protection training. After three days of theory and skill training, this being the fourth hour of the day, his legs were beginning to tire as he crouched, his back almost fully turned to Jacob.
“You’ve got one hand on the grip, what’s your other hand doing?” asked Jacob.
“I thought I was gonna have shooting lessons,” he replied, relaxing and dropping character.
Jacob dropped his gun in exasperation. “Self-protection with a force-multiplier is more than just being able to shoot straight,” he said firmly, placing his gun in its holster. “It’s about self-awareness, aptitude, timing. You might be able to shoot the balls off a fly but if you try and draw from the drop like you just did you’ll come off second best.”
Connor sighed and returned to his crouched position.
“Again.” Jacob whipped out his pistol and pointed it, gangster-style, at Connor’s head. “Get into character. Believe there’s ammunition in this gun and I’m going to use it on you. What are you going to do?”
Connor raised his hands timidly and dropped to his knees. “Take whatever you want.”
“I’m not here to rob you Connor, I’m here to kill you.”
“Don’t shoot!” shouted Matt, bursting out of the back door comically.
Jacob flinched, and as he did Connor whipped the gun from his holster, turned, and with an outstretched arm clicked twice a few inches from Jacob’s chest before he could even react.
