by Ryan Rinsler
“What are you going to do to me?” he asked, panting as he spoke. He couldn’t feel any effects, other than a tingling sensation in his fingertips.
“I asked you a question,” he replied. “What is the fundamental action that keeps you alive?”
“Uh, I dunno,” he said quickly. “Breathing?”
“Yes!” exclaimed Hans. “They say without food you can live for three weeks, without water you can live for three days, and without air, you last around three minutes. The denial of air has long been a successful method for interrogation, because it, well, to say that it is important to us is rather an understatement.”
Stanley suddenly became conscious of his breathing, now having to concentrate on every draw of breath.
“But what I would say,” he continued, “is that every method for denying a person air is messy, and loud. Take waterboarding as an example. All that screaming, water everywhere, three men to operate. Ugh,” he said with disdain, flicking his head to the side as though he was going to spit. “And drowning in general – holding a person’s head underwater for a minute or so, then hoping they don’t die before you can get your information from them? You can’t see their expression. You might accidentally drown them – it’s so antiquated it’s vulgar. I could just push a rag into your mouth, but that would just be crass, and to be perfectly honest, degrading. No, Dr. Chen, what you’ll learn about me in our short time together is that I prefer a more, shall we say, refined approach.”
He reached down and tapped once on his BlackBook. In that instant Stanley’s lungs ceased to move. They weren’t stuck, nor did it feel like he was holding his breath.
It was as though he had forgotten how to breathe.
He began to struggle, his arms and legs fighting in vain against the restraints, his mouth agape, unable to speak, until eventually Hans tapped once more and Stanley gasped frantically to catch his breath. He lay there, panting heavily. What the hell just happened?
“Now, wasn’t that elegant?”
Stanley lay his head back, staring at the ceiling. His whole body was numb through a mixture of adrenaline, fear, and anger. He turned slowly to face Hans, whose expression was one of eager anticipation. “You’re sick.”
Hans burst out laughing. “Oh, I’ve only just started, Dr., Chen,” he chuckled. “What you’ve just experienced is a collection of NanoBots connected directly to your central nervous system, which allow me to pause your reflex actions as I wish. Isn’t that something?”
It was like nothing Stanley had ever experienced. To ‘forget’ the ability to perform reflex actions was impossible to comprehend.
“Of course, I can control all of your reflex actions, including your cardiovascular system. You see, this is why it is such a masterpiece. I can switch off your heart, just like turning off a lamp, then start it again, if I wish. Alternatively I could just stop you breathing completely, as I just did, and watch those three minutes tick by. You see? It’s beautiful. Clean, elegant, silent. You need to know what this system is capable of, and sure, I could simply kill you with the click of the button, then bring you back to life a few seconds later, but the problem is you wouldn’t feel it. You basically just black out, then wake up, having experienced nothing. That’s why I always mess with your respiratory system first – you get to experience every agonizing second of it. You get to learn what is in store for you in the most visceral way possible. I’ve got to say, Dr. Chen, the guys you left behind in NanoTech research are extremely talented.”
“NanoTech isn’t for weapons,” said Stanley, with rage burning inside him. “It’s meant to cure illnesses, to heal wounds, to… to… “
“Shhh,” said Hans, softly, raising his hand to silence him. “You may remember I changed what I said – they aren’t weapons. Think of them more as tools.”
“A gun is a tool!” he snapped.
“Then a hammer is a weapon,” Hans countered quickly.
Stanley looked him in the eyes. “Only in the hands of an evil asshole.”
Hans wobbled his head from side to side, his eyes smiling, mouth drawn downward in recognition of Stanley’s quip. “I can’t argue with that,” he said. “But whether or not the person is an evil asshole depends on which side you’re on, wouldn’t you agree?”
“No.”
“Now you’re being stubborn. If a person was being robbed by three other people and they happened to use a hammer to defend themselves, they wouldn’t be an evil asshole now, would they? It’s the same for these tools. I’m charged with the defense of our country, and these are tools to help me do that. Does it make me evil to use them? Again, doesn’t that depend on whose side you are on?”
“Does it make you evil to use them? Yes. What’s even more evil is that you could even conceive of the idea in the first place.”
“Oh, come on Dr. Chen, interrogation isn’t a case of asking nicely. You’ve already proven that at the start of our conversation. No, since the dawn of mankind humans only truly react to pain, or the threat of pain. It’s as fundamentally built into our consciousness as breathing itself. We instinctively avoid pain. After you burn yourself on a hot plate do you touch it again? Of course not. You see, this is the thing – pain is something you don’t have to learn. It’s directly linked to our number one core drive – to avoid death. We all share the same instinctive fear of death, or reluctance to die, at least, which is why the use of pain is such an effective interrogation method. The fear of death is built into us so deeply that it’s almost impossible to reverse.”
He opened his BlackBook once more, and paused, sharing eye contact with Stanley for some time before speaking.
“I meant what I said about it being ‘almost’ irreversible,” he said. “Almost, but not impossible. I’ve heard men and women beg for death. It’s a concept alien to me, but, I assure you, one you are about to be very familiar with if you don’t tell me everything I want to know.”
35
No life. Only death.
It was difficult to fathom. No humans born in fifteen years.
As the four of them traveled ever closer to the colossal Silk Corporation HQ, still so distant at eye level yet appearing to be right above them when looking up to the sky, Connor contemplated a world without birth.
For so long, decades, centuries, the scales had been tipped in favor of new life, the birth of children outweighing the demise of the weak and old. The population had grown to the point of capacity, even in Black Alpha, Connor’s timeline, and although the world was conscious it was at tipping point, the focus, in his world at least, was on how to support this growth. Scientists from every nation were fully invested making Earth’s resources capable of sustaining such a degree of expansion, and the company at the spearhead of this research and development? Silk Corporation.
Here in Red Oscar, life appeared meaningless; population falling rapidly, the world decaying, and the same company at the forefront of this decline. It was difficult to comprehend how it could have turned in such a way.
“Be on your guard,” said Mana, breaking the silence. “We’re getting close. It gets even more dangerous from here on in.”
Aside from the bright blue-white of passing headlights, the streets were dark. They were traveling between large buildings, most fifty or more stories, with only a small fraction of the windows showing any kind of light.
“Is my world going to end up like this?” asked Connor. “I mean, are we on the same, you know, path? Just further behind?”
Mana smiled to himself. “That’s a question I’m interested to answer myself,” he said. “There’s a lot unknown about your world. It’s quite the enigma.”
“Is it similar to how this place was? Before it all happened?”
“I don’t know,” he replied. “Our old world feels like a distant dream now. After what happened everything became a blur. The scale was the hardest thing to understand. It was happening in the far reaches of the world, affecting billions of people, and at the same it’s taking yo
ur wife from your grasp. Maybe I’ve blocked it out, but even if I could remember it, I couldn’t compare it to your world.”
“Why?”
“Up until now we’ve not been able to connect to hosts in universes outside of our own, at least those governed by Silk Corporation. Yours is one of those, of course.”
“But who?” asked Connor. “Who is it who owns Silk in my world, if it’s not me?”
“That’s the burning question,” he replied.
“Is there any way to find out?”
“I’m not sure. It’s likely that you’ve got people on the inside, same as us, but whether even they would be able to find out is unknown.”
Somebody must know, he thought. Stanley, someone on the inside.
“From what you’ve told me,” continued Mana, “and Nolan in the past, it does sound a lot like Black Alpha is on a similar path to the default timelines.”
“What are default timelines?”
“Universes are like galaxies,” said Rachel, taking over from Mana. “They clump together and share the same basic properties. Nearly all universes outside our own have developed in the same way, and have led them to the point we’re at now. Either that or they are behind us, but in any case, they’re on the same path. The default path, if you like.”
“And how, um, how do you know all this? I thought you couldn’t get into any other worlds?” he said, remembering Jacob’s skepticism when they first spoke on the matter. He’d warned him that Mana could be pushing the narrative of every world being like his so Connor would join his fight. A cynical judgement, he’d thought, but a just one, at least.
“Silk’s research is very thorough,” said Rachel. “We’ve got a few people on the inside, or at least we had. These were people who were on the front line of the R & D, and would relay back to us information that might help us. Part of that information was that, of the trillions of parallel universes that they probed, all but fifty of them had absolutely no differences at all. Fifty, out of trillions. Even then, those differences were only on a microscopic level.”
“This is why you are so unique, Connor,” said Mana. “And now our world is unique for you having come here. What concerns me is, why aren’t they all over your world? Why aren’t they seeing these differences? Have they assumed it’s just behind schedule like so many others? Who knows? Either way, we don’t want to rock the boat just yet. We need to keep you under wraps for as long as possible.”
“Yeah, about that,” said Connor.
“What?”
“Some guy turned up at my apartment. It was trashed, and he just walked in while I was there. He knew my name and was acting weird, like he was there for me but wasn’t expecting me, if you know what I mean.”
“That’s rather worrying,” said Mana. “So where are you now?”
“I’m at my dad’s place. It’s out in the middle of nowhere.” It felt strange to be talking about his body being somewhere else.
“Well, if they knew who or where you were you’d be dead by now. That you can be sure of.”
“I’m not sure if that’s comforting.”
“It’s the truth,” he said. “When you disconnect you need to be extremely careful. Keep your eye on news reports, social media if you still have that. Look for anything out of the ordinary, anything that strikes you as a coincidence about you or your life.”
“The news? Why?”
“Knowing these people as I do, if they got any information on you whatsoever when they took you in that time, they would come to your world to try and find who you are. It doesn’t mean they know anything about you, how important you are, but the fact you were connected to Kyle, a host who was freely walking the streets, would have meant you were flagged to them. I wouldn’t be surprised if they come looking.”
“I vaguely remember them arguing, saying they couldn’t get any information on me.”
“That’s unsurprising,” replied Mana. “If they’d got your source location and your host code then you and I wouldn’t be talking right now. If you have security, the most they would have got is a geolocation, but that would point them to Silk, so my guess is that you’re OK for now.”
“For now.”
“Just make sure you’re armed. Ruby will give you weapons training over the next week or two, then when you disconnect, get yourself a firearm, if you haven’t got one already.”
“Oh,” said Connor, grinning, “we’re good for weapons.”
“Look sharp,” said Sonny, suddenly. “We’re coming up on the location.”
“Where are we?” asked Connor.
“Don’t slow down,” said Mana, tapping Sonny on the shoulder. “We’re very vulnerable here,” he said to Connor. “This far in, this close to Silk. Very dangerous people here.”
After a few moments Rachel pointed to a small layby at the side of the road. “Pull up just here,” she said.
They were now on the outskirts of what appeared to be a city within a city. Between them and the gargantuan Silk Corporation tower was a wide river, spanned by a single bridge ahead of them. The area in which they were parked felt like the suburbs, with restaurants and shops, apparently busy, with people sat at tables, chatting like any other place on any other day. The traffic remained the same, with the standard black SUVs and large container trucks rumbling by, but there was a different atmosphere here.
“What is this place?”
“It may look like home, but there are no good people here, Connor,” said Mana.
“All these people you see here are Complyers but of a different level,” said Rachel, her voice low, almost a whisper. “They’re people who work for Silk.”
“So they’re still under control?”
“Yes,” said Mana, “but to a much lesser degree. These are people who are true to Silk’s cause, who act on their behalf without the need for complete control.”
“So they make their own decisions? Have their own lives?”
“Of sorts,” said Rachel. “They socialize within the restrictions given to them by Silk’s program, but they can act on their own impulses, for the most part.”
“That’s what makes them so dangerous,” said Mana. “They are slaves to the practices of Silk Corporation, not because they are under control, but because they’re sympathetic to their cause. They want to be here. They want the world to be this way.”
“Silk want these types of people because they’re able to make decisions,” said Rachel. “Slaves are just that – Slaves. They’re incapable of coming up with anything new because they’re only doing what they’re being told to do. Like every enterprise, Silk needs people who can push things forward.”
Something through the window caught Connor’s eye. A person in a hooded coat was walking toward the car, their strides long and fast. Connor shuffled quickly in his seat. “Is this them?” he asked, panicked.
“This is our contact. I said there are no good people here Connor. This person is the exception.”
Connor’s door opened and the person beckoned for him to skootch over, which he did. They got in the car and closed the door, with Sonny immediately switching on the motor and doing a swift U-turn before heading back the way they had come.
The person pulled down their hood to reveal themselves. It was a man, late forties, no hair, with small, squinty eyes and thin lips. He took off his gloves and placed each one in his pocket, then turned to the occupants of the car. “I don’t have much time,” he said. “Just get to somewhere safe and we can talk. Head to Baylands on Southway. There’s a park with no surveillance I’ll guide you to.”
“Connor, this is David,” said Mana as they drove. They shook hands. “Did you get the information?” he asked.
“Not here,” replied David.
After a short drive, David gestured to Sonny, who pulled off the freeway, into an empty parking lot and came to a stop. David jumped out of the car, glancing around nervously. Connor followed him, as did Mana.
“Gotta be quick,” said David
. “My SLD is showing I’m in a restaurant and if anyone comes knocking it’s game over.” He spoke out of the corner of his mouth, his squinting eyes flicking around constantly as he talked. He shuffled on the spot, hands in the pockets of his jacket, his white sneakers kicking up dust as his feet tapped nervously.
“Sorry David,” said Mana. “Do you have the information?”
“Yes.”
Mana withdrew a pen and paper from his pocket and readied himself.
“Andrew McBride. Level nine. God damn commandant,” he said with disdain. He was still shuffling about as though he was trying to keep warm, even though it was a mild night.
“Level nine?” exclaimed Mana, scribbling on the paper.
“He’s the only one who’s gonna get you in there,” said David.
“Is a level nine not a little conspicuous?”
“Just take what I gave you,” he said, clearly becoming frustrated. “He’s in the red zone, sector 37B. He hits a diner there nearly every day.”
“OK, good.”
“Why have you got this car?” he asked, frowning and pointing toward the black SUV.
“It’s all we have at the moment. It was the only way of getting here.”
“There’ll be a code out on that. I’m surprised you’ve not been picked up already. How did you get it working?”
“We’ve some new guys we’re working with, part of Connor’s team,” he replied, nodding toward Connor.
“Well, it’s a dangerous game. I don’t like being in that thing, let alone talking in it. And don’t get too comfortable thinking they won’t pick you up using it. They only have to run your code and it’ll flag, then it’s game over for you guys too.”
“Is this all we need to know?” asked Mana, lifting the small piece of paper.
“Yes. My payment for getting you this information is that you hurt this guy. Here, he’s responsible for a lot of shit, bad shit.” He looked in Connor’s direction. “Only a matter of time and he’ll be doing the same in this guy’s place too,” he said, pointing to him. “Don’t feel bad by not using a Primer, Mana, he’s got it coming. Whatever you do to him won’t be enough. Take that shit out of his head as hard as you can. Don’t hold back. Make him suffer. Make it hurt. Do that, then use him to get to your target as quick as you can.”
