by Ryan Rinsler
“Yes, I’m sure they are,” replied Andrew with a smile. Although it seemed forced, he gave all the signals he was fully prepared to become a host. He held the Primer in his hand, staring at it softly as though it were his daughter’s first stuffed toy. “OK,” he said. “I’m ready.
“They said for you to lie down if you can.”
“I think I’ll need it,” he replied, stiffly standing and lying awkwardly on a couch at the side of the room. “How long?”
“They’ll call me a minute before they connect.”
“Can I have another drink?”
“Uh, I’m not sure that’s wise,” Connor replied, remembering whoever connects to Andrew may feel the effects of the alcohol.
“No, you’re probably right,” he said glumly, relaxing back into the sofa.
Connor’s phone rang. “Yes? OK sixty seconds,” he said, tapping Andrew on the shoulder.
“What’s your name, kid?” he asked.
Connor was a little shocked he’d not already shared it, this feeling even more rude to him that pointing a gun at the man. “Connor, Connor Cooper. Thirty seconds.”
“Nice to meet you Connor. Look, if anything happens, just… just tell my wife I’m sorry.”
“You’re… but....”
Andrew’s eyes closed, flickering violently as they did, and then he relaxed. Connor took the Primer from his hand, then, no more than a second later his eyes opened again, immediately turning to focus on him.
“Hello, Connor.”
“Ruby?”
He stood up gingerly, staggering slightly. He took a deep breath and rubbed his head, wincing as he did. “Has this asshole been drinking?”
“He’s had a couple,” replied Connor. “Are you Ruby?”
He looked at Connor and patted him on the arm. “Sonny. Here to sort your shit out for you.”
“Sonny? I thought they were sending Ruby White?”
“Yeah, well, they were gonna,” replied Sonny, stretching, “but she felt a bit weird being in a guy’s body, so here I am. Personally I’d love to have a female host, but then, I’m a guy. I guess for a woman the thought of having a wrinkly old dick between your legs is kind of a distraction, don’t ya think?”
“Here’s his Primer,” he said, slipping it into Andrew’s trouser pocket. “Do you know what’s got to be done?”
“Relax, it’s all under control. Hey, this is a nice room,” he said, nodding while looking around.
“Sonny! Do we have a contact here?’
His head turned quickly as Connor caught his attention. “Uh, yeah, sure, gimme a pen. You have pens here, right?”
Connor scrabbled around the desk until he found a pen and a scrap of paper, on which Sonny casually wrote two numbers.
“Call that top one, she’ll give us what we need. Give her the second one.”
“What, now?”
“Either that or we could take a nap? Feelin’ kinda tired myself.”
“Jerk,” said Connor under his breath as he dialed. “It’s ringing.”
After thirty or more seconds the line went dead. He tried again. This time she answered. “Hello?” said Connor before she said anything.
“Yes?”
“Tell her you’re with Globaline and you have a package,” whispered Sonny.
“I’m, uh, I’m with Globaline and we have a package for you.”
“Okay… what’s the consignment number?”
“The consignment number, yes, yes,” he said. Sonny tapped the second number forcefully. “I, uh, do you have a pen?”
“Go on.”
“766298114.”
There was a silence.
“Yes, that consignment is actually not available anymore.”
“What do you mean, not available anymore?”
“It’s been decommissioned.”
“Decommissioned?”
Sonny’s face dropped.
“Is that bad?” he whispered to Sonny, shielding the phone from his voice.
“Ask her where it is.”
Connor returned the phone to his ear. “Hi, um, where is it now?”
“Decommissioned packages are sent to zip code 71514. It’s a basement apartment, number fourteen.” She hung up.
Connor quickly scribbled it down and handed it to Sonny. “Basement apartment? What does it mean? Why would they be sent to an apartment?”
“It’s not literal, it means they’ve been taken downstairs. Find out where that zip code is for.”
Connor did an online search. “Red Bank, New Jersey.”
“Means they’re in the red zone, basement level fourteen.”
“Is that good or bad?”
“I don’t know yet. Give me that shooter.”
“You’re not going in there shooting are you?”
“Look, asshole,” he said, squaring up to Connor. “I’ve been sent here to do a job. Not by you, by Mana. I take orders from him. Him and Ruby. They call the shots. If one of those shots needs to be in someone’s head then that’s the way it is. I don’t need no whiney little pussy crying about who’s gettin’ shot or not.”
He grabbed the gun from Connor’s shaking grasp and slid it into the back of his trousers with an angry sideways glance in his direction, then snatched the piece of paper and stuffed it in his pocket. Then, rifling through Andrew’s desk drawers one by one, he pulled out the contents and threw them to the floor as he searched. He stopped. “Any more ammo?”
Connor shrugged. “Am I… am I coming with you?”
Sonny scoffed. “No. You’ll slow me down and it’s too risky for you. I can’t die, remember?” He stepped toward the door and grabbed the handle. “Wait, where are we?”
“In his house. We’re alone, don’t worry.”
“This guy’s got a Replicator, right?”
“A Replicator? Why?”
“I need Meta Silk,” replied Sonny.
“What the hell is that?”
Sonny shook his head in exasperation. “Does it matter?”
“I don’t know, try the kitchen?” said Connor, raising his voice and become flushed in the cheeks.
“Does he have a car?”
“I don’t know, he came here in a Gyro.”
“I ain’t gonna come back here in a damn Gyro.”
Connor shrugged. “I don’t know, do I? I thought you’d have this figured out?”
Sonny looked as though he was about to speak, but stopped himself while pointing at Connor. He sighed, then looked around. “Looks like I’m gonna have to sort somethin’. Here, write your number on this,” he said, handing Connor the crumpled piece of paper. He grabbed a wallet from the desk. “Is this yours or his?”
Connor shrugged.
He opened it up and flicked through the contents. “Good, Silk I.D. card. Stay here, I’ll come back when the job’s done. If I fail you’ll hear from Mana.”
“That’d mean Andrew was killed, right? If you fail I mean.”
“Sacrifices, brother. That’s the way it is.”
“Please,” said Connor, lifting his hand to Sonny’s arm. Sonny looked down at it with a frown. “Don’t let him die.”
“Who, this guy?” he asked, tapping himself in the chest. “I thought he’d been given a death sentence anyway?”
“Yeah, well, that was before I met his wife and kid. It’s been revoked.”
“Look, I don’t give a rat’s ass about this Andrew suit I’m wearing, what I care about is the objective. If your new friend gets out the other side OK then that means I’ve completed my mission, and that’s all that matters to me.”
“You have to complete the mission,” said Connor, pleading with him. “It’s the only way to end this.”
Sonny swung open the office door, and with a final nod in Connor’s direction, he left.
41
As Sonny disembarked the Gyro, stepping out into the busy station deep inside the Silk Corporation headquarters, he rearranged his suit jacket, then walked with purpose to the hu
ge elevator which would carry over a hundred thousand workers to and from the Gyro station every day. He had no idea how to reach the Red Zone, nor how to descend to the lower levels when he reached there, but for now the only exit was the elevator.
He stepped inside, along with fifty or more Silk employees and visitors, some of whom were chatting, others staring blankly ahead of them, and within less than five seconds the doors opened once more into the huge lobby.
The lobby itself was like a building on its own, being ten stories high, brightly lit by large ceiling lights and huge windows, and bustling with activity. There were no staff, as such, but hundreds of screens spanned the walls of the ground floor for visitors to sign in and get a key card with their relevant access.
He scanned the room. There were two exits via locked doors, their red access pads shining brightly in the shadow of the floor above, and wide escalators to the higher levels. Everybody appeared to know where they were going, with some accessing the screens around the room, and some simply walking to the escalators and making their way upstairs.
He walked across the huge expanse to one of the screens, busy people pushing past him and swerving him as he did. He pressed his thumb against it to begin, and the first question stumped him immediately.
“Please enter the number of the person you are visiting.”
He didn’t have one, at least not one he could use. He hit the map icon. A 3D model of the gargantuan Silk Corporation building zoomed in, below it a series of buttons, all labeled with colors.
“Do you know your zone?” it asked, so Sonny quickly hit the red button, and the 3D map zoomed out and zoomed back in, some way away from the main HQ building. He read the travel instructions on screen, then set off, marching toward the escalator, jumping triplets of moving stairs until he reached the top.
He was met with the first major security checkpoint, the queue to which was moving quickly. People were either swiping key cards or scanning their thumb prints, the doors in front of them opening and closing quickly, and as the person in front of him disappeared through the door he had no time to think. He placed his thumb on the panel and, to his relief, the door opened once more. He quickly skipped through it, and was greeted by what looked like a large, x-ray body scanner. It was a small tunnel with matte black walls — something Sonny had seen many times before.
The person in front of him walked through it slowly, their arms held high, pausing in the center of the scanner. Conscious of the highly illegal pistol tucked into his trousers, he walked confidently into the scanner, raised his arms, turned a few times on the spot, then carried on walking. Although he was positive the sheet of silk MetaMaterial he’d torn from the inside of Andrew’s Replicator, which was now wrapped around the pistol, would shield the weapon from the infrared and x-ray scanners, his heart still seemed to hang for a few seconds as he stepped out of the way of the machine.
No alarm.
He walked quickly, following signs for the train terminal which would take him to the red zone. His only knowledge of this area of Silk came from the history he’d learned of his own world. It was a highly secure section of the Silk compound used for ‘research and development’, which was off-limits to anyone under a level five clearance.
As he made his way to the depot he stopped for nothing, long thumping strides, dodging people walking with their heads down, buried in their BlackBooks. He reached the terminal just as a train arrived, and, after gaining access to the platform with a swipe of his thumb, hopped aboard and took a seat. Though he was desperate to take this world in, having had very little exposure to any timeline outside his own, he instead sat gazing at the back of the seat in front of him, avoiding any distraction.
The train was clean yet worn, with Virtual windows looping advertisements during the short, uneventful ride to the red zone. As they came to a stop Sonny disembarked, slotting into the flurry of workers exiting the carriage.
This terminal was far less glamorous than the previous, seemingly made entirely from unpainted concrete. A wind roared through the tunnel in which he was now stood, looking at the several exit points. Noticing a sign marked ‘Lower Levels’, he jogged to the door, swiping his thumb once more to access the stairway before descending via rough concrete stairs into the darkness below. Now free of any onlookers, he bounded down the steps, three at a time, the temperature dropping significantly as he made his way deeper underground. To Sonny, this didn’t appear to be the main route to the basement levels of the red zone, but that was perfect for him. Although he had the necessary clearance he wanted his presence to go unnoticed. In and out, no commotion.
B08, eight floors below ground. Nearly there. He began to feel the fatigue of Andrew’s body as he descended, but pushed on regardless.
Suddenly a door burst open on the floor he was about to reach. A Scout jumped through it, into the stairwell, and stared up at Sonny, who used the opportunity to stop and catch his breath.
“You!” shouted the Scout.
Sonny looked behind him, almost comically.
“Here!”
He walked slowly down the few flights until he reached the lone Scout, who was stood with one hand on his taser in a carrier in his belt. Sonny glanced at it and purposely acted surprised.
“Is there a problem?” he asked.
“What are you doing here?”
“What’s it gotta do with you?”
“You answer my questions,” said the Scout, robotically.
“I don’t answer to you,” said Sonny, stepping forward.
“Show me identification immediately,” said the Scout, stepping back in response.
“No,” replied Sonny, fearing he would take his card away from him.
“You have to come with me.” He grabbed at Sonny’s arm.
“Hey!” shouted Sonny, snatching his arm away.
“What are you doing here? This is a restricted access route.”
“Are you sure?”
“This is a restricted access route.”
“Look,” said Sonny, “I didn’t mean to come this way, I just took a wrong turn is all. Now, why don’t you just leave me be so I can be on my way?”
“Show me identification.”
“Don’t you have a BlackBook?” asked Sonny. “Scan my thumb and it’ll tell you I can be here.”
The Scout simply stared at him, then, after at least ten seconds, he pulled a BlackBook from his pocket and opened it, gesturing for Sonny to press his thumb against it.
“Long time to work that out, huh?” said Sonny under his breath, before obliging and pressing his thumb against the screen. A photo and bio of Andrew appeared, and after taking a few minutes to read through the information, tapping and swiping for more, the Scout looked up.
“See? Level nine.”
“On your way,” said the Scout, to which Sonny responded by pushing past him, hard. As he did so, he slipped the Scout’s taser from its belt clip without the Scout noticing, then continued his journey down the stairs.
B12. Two floors to go. He slowed, gripping the taser harder with each step. As he reached the door to level B14, the level he’d been directed to, he softly clasped the door handle and opened it slightly. A dark corridor lay beyond, with just six doors leading from it. There appeared to be nobody around, so he slid himself through the gap and closed the door quietly behind him. He could hear talking from one of the rooms up ahead, so, tiptoeing, he made his way toward the door, taser held aloft. The voices grew louder, until suddenly they ceased, startling Sonny into stopping, almost overbalancing forward as he did.
He held his breath.
I’m a level nine, he thought. I don’t need to tiptoe. He stood upright, concealed the taser up his sleeve, and opened the door.
Inside the brightly lit room were two Scouts and a technician. They all appeared to have been waiting for him to open the door, as they were stood, unmoving, facing him. Sonny looked at them, and then quickly glanced around the room.
This is a trap.
“What is your business here?” asked one of the Scouts, her hand firmly resting on her taser.
“I don’t answer to you,” he replied.
“You answer my questions.”
“No,” he said, firmly. “No, now I leave the room.”
He turned his back and began to step back through the still open door, when the Scout shouted, “Halt!”, her arm outstretched, pointing at him.
Sonny whipped out his arm, slipping the taser into his hand, then quickly spun and fired it at the Scout, hitting her in the neck with two silver spines. She convulsed and dropped to the floor, and as she did the second Scout reached for his taser. Sonny grabbed the pistol, still wrapped in the Silk MetaMaterial, and pointed it at the Scout.
“Drop it!” he shouted.
The Scout fired the taser, narrowly missing Sonny, who ducked out of the way. The technician jumped to the side, cowering behind a desk as Sonny righted himself, then, as the Scout tried to reload the taser, Sonny fired. With the silenced pistol, he shot the Scout in the shoulder, then one in the knee, dropping him like a darted animal. He marched over to him and kicked away his taser, before hitting him hard on the forehead with the grip of his gun, knocking him out cold.
The young technician was scrabbling backward away from Sonny, who had focused his attention on her.
“I don’t know anything, sir,” she stammered. “I’m just here to administer, you know, restraints. Are you a level eight?”
Sonny stormed over to her and grabbed her by the collar of his jacket, yanking her whole body toward his face. He pushed the barrel of the pistol into the side of the technician’s head and screamed at her, “Nine, now what’s going on?”
“I told you! I don’t know!”
Sonny let go of her jacket, then grabbed her cheeks and squeezed them together, pinning her head to the floor. “What access level are you?” he asked, his eyes squinting with suspicion.
“Level five!” she blurted, her voice muffled by her contorted face.
“I was told to come here. Why?” he snapped.
“They… they had someone’s phone. They knew you were coming,” she stuttered.
“Give me your BlackBook.”
“Sorry?”
“Give me your damn BlackBook now, or I swear I will shoot you where you sit.”
