Stolen Future

by Cameron Coral

  He pauses and offers me coffee and cinnamon rolls which an assistant delivers. Mr. Palmer continues, “However times are changing. Our surveillance technology, which is well known by all colonists in the galaxy, has determined that there are certain criminal elements that threaten not only NeuroDyne but also the safety of Earth’s citizens.”

  “But that's on Earth,” I say to which he answers, “We have evidence that these criminal elements are present on Luna and staging criminal cyberattacks from this very colony.”

  The allegations are serious—criminal hackers are hiding out on Luna, amassing their forces, and threatening cyberattacks on major cities on Earth.

  “And it goes beyond that,” Mr. Palmer explains. “Cyberattacks render a city's defenses helpless. Hopelessness turns into panic as people are suddenly faced with lack of electricity and lack of access to their basic needs, such as food and water. You can imagine how devastating that can be to a major urban center. Imagine if people on Luna panicked and started looting, and well, that's why we're here.”

  He goes on to explain, “We want to prevent these criminal forces from continuing their work.”

  And what about the rumors that NeuroDyne is deploying Scyther soldiers with technically advanced hardware—armor that’s nearly invincible? When questioned about these accusations, he leans forward and clasps his hands together on his desk and shakes his head. “It's simply not true. Keep in mind that these criminal elements are fabricating lies about NeuroDyne. They want to sow distrust among the public and get them on their side. There's no testing of new military hardware armor on Luna. None whatsoever.”

  I ask Mr. Palmer to explain why certain areas of the city have been shut down and soldiers from NeuroDyne have been deployed, alarming citizens.

  He leans back in his chair, his hands clasped thoughtfully. “We’ve had to begin operations to search for the criminals. Our goal is to never disrupt the community. So, if we’re investigating a crime, NeuroDyne officers will go door-to-door and alert neighbors to stay inside and lock their doors.”

  When asked what advice he would give to residents, Mr. Palmer leans forward and says, “If you see something suspicious, text this number: 85-852-TECH. NeuroDyne personnel will be in touch immediately and investigate. In fact, we’re looking forward to getting to know the citizens of Lunar and becoming part of the fiber of the community. We want peace for the colonies as well as peace on Earth.”

  I thank Mr. Palmer for letting me visit and tour the facility.

  After finishing the article, I leaned back in my chair. NeuroDyne was settling on Luna—building an office here. My eyes ran helplessly over the words on the screen again. Criminal elements, areas of the city being shut down, door-to-door searches.

  Just like when the NeuroDyne air cruiser had landed on the street outside Terry's apartment building. They had pounded on doors, prompting Drive Nine to venture outside and distract them.

  Cyberattacks. Did Terry's brother and Drive Nine have something to do with these criminal organizations? And why was NeuroDyne after me?

  My breathing grew faster as I sat in the hard plastic chair. Scrolling back up, I studied the man in the photo, committing his face to memory.

  This was the face of the man who was hunting me.

  A heavily armed man with an army of security forces behind him.

  As I stared at the photo of Marin Palmer, my right eye twitched and made my heart race faster. The man next to me shifted his feet underneath his chair. Could he see my screen?

  I jerked my head, a nervous reaction, really, and my vision altered—the internal feed popped up on the right side of my periphery. My hands trembled, and I tried desperately to close the screen and hide any sign of the article, but my fingers were shaking so badly, I couldn’t manage.

  “Dust maggots,” I muttered under my breath and out of the corner of my eyes, I glimpsed my neighbor’s head turn which made me even more upset, so I pushed my chair back with my feet. The loud, grating noise happened again, as if I’d ice-skated over a chalkboard, and echoed through the dim café. All heads in the room turned; even the sleeping man lifted his head. The walls seemed ready to close in on me. All I wanted was to run and hide, but my hands swiped at the screen in a mad attempt to shut the windows on which my articles and search results had appeared.

  “Are you okay?” my hooded neighbor asked with concern.

  “I-I just can't figure out how to close this stupid site.”

  “I can try to help.” He rose, stepped over, and leaned next to me. I caught a whiff of soap and something minty. My enhanced vision suddenly zoomed in on his hands. Every pore was revealed in near-microscopic detail; I knew his heart rate, sweat level, even how hydrated he was.

  I blinked, trying to focus, but he’d already closed the screen with the article. “There you go,” he said.

  He was staring down at me, and I looked up, met his gaze, searched his eyes to see whether he knew I’d been reading about NeuroDyne security and police reports. Was there a glimmer of recognition? But nothing had changed in his demeanor, and he seemed distracted by something else.

  “Thanks,” I muttered, and he looked down. His eyelashes were unusually long. Then he shrugged and returned to his seat.

  My half hour was up, and now that I’d thoroughly embarrassed myself, I wanted to get out of the claustrophobic place. Out of habit, I scanned the area around my feet to make sure I had everything, but all my belongings were in my pockets. Then I rose and accidentally kicked the chair five inches, which startled everyone. Again.

  I walked fast toward the entrance. The girl at the counter barely looked up, and then I was out, moving into the domed, recycled air. “Have a nice night,” she said in a flat voice behind me. Outdoors, the change of air helped calm my breathing. Luna’s artificially processed air streamed across my flushed cheeks.

  70° Fahrenheit. Humidity 40% percent.

  I didn't ask to know this, but my new cognition decided to point it out anyway. As I walked, I realized I didn’t know where to go, and I stumbled, tripped by one of the many people dodging me in their rush. I stepped off to one side, out of the main sidewalk path.

  People packed the sidewalks along the avenue. Why did I pick the busiest night to hang out and conduct research? What an idiot.

  “Hey, watch it!” a man shouted as he walked past, plowing into my shoulder, which sent me bouncing into other people. A woman wearing a bright blue hat narrowed her eyes and shot me a dirty look as she sidestepped me.

  “Sorry,” I said, really meaning it, and flustered that my out-of-control cyborg cognition was bouncing all over the place. The target finder zoomed in on strangers’ faces, and I couldn’t even believe what was happening; bodies were moving so fast. I hurried forward, zigzagging around pedestrians, anxious to get out of the main path—when I collided straight into a uniformed cop.

  Eleven

  The street cop didn’t see me until I smashed into her side. She grunted and stumbled four steps. Spinning, she faced me and drew her right hand immediately to her holstered gun.

  “Oh shit, I'm so sorry!” I said, holding my hands out to steady her, and me.

  But her eyes narrowed, and she frowned. “What on Mars are you doing?”

  “I–I’m sorry. I lost my balance. I didn't mean to run into you,” I explained. Two other uniformed officers approached. They were both male, and one of them said, “Lopez, you all right?”

  “Yeah, I'm fine,” she answered, her hands on her hips—off her gun, at least. “We got a live one here. She rammed straight into me. Maybe she's drunk or—”

  The taller of the two male officers regarded me and then twisted his hand to wave me away. “Forget it,” he told Lopez. “We have bigger things to worry about. Those NeuroDyne grunts are getting on my last nerve.”

  Lopez straightened. She stepped over, grabbed my bicep, and squeezed menacingly. “Watch yourself, girl,” she said before walking off with her partners.

  I sucked in a hu
ge breath of air, my mouth hanging open, and I didn’t care who saw. She could have arrested me. At that moment, I was grateful for the new purple and green hair. If Lopez had had her way, she would’ve detained me, scanned my eyes… But I couldn’t think about that now. I needed to get away. I stepped to the curb of the street, toward bicycle traffic and vendors pushing carts, teenagers on scooters. After waiting for an opening, I dashed into the road and jogged across. Someone beeped at me, and I quickened my pace before finding the sidewalk.

  Under a large tree with high branches, I grasped the thick trunk and tried to get my bearings. This side of the street was less crowded. I’d be able to move a lot easier and not get so flustered once I caught my breath.

  I glanced across the boulevard, scanning for the officers. I half-expected Lopez to be looking in my direction, reconsidering her decision to let me go. But she wasn’t. Instead, she and the two officers had drawn their weapons and were joined by two other officers and five men decked out in military assault team gear—high-tech helmets, heavy bulletproof vests, black fatigues, and military boots. Zooming in, I spotted the insignia ND—the same Marin Palmer had worn the night he raided Terry’s street. What on Mars was happening? The NeuroDyne soldiers had assault rifles and were gearing up for something.

  My muscles in my back, neck, and face tensed. Did NeuroDyne know about me? That I was near? Had someone tipped them off?

  Threat level 9.2, my readout displayed. “Shut up,” I muttered. Oddly enough, the readout disappeared. Was it voice-controlled?

  “Zoom in,” I whispered, and it did! My vision spiraled outward, and my gaze locked onto the assault rifles and then shifted to the faces of the NeuroDyne soldiers. “Whoa. Zoom halfway out.” My vision adjusted accordingly.

  The soldiers handed Lopez and the other Lunar cops riot shields. They assembled into an attack formation and scattered down the street after first clearing the pedestrians and sending people back in the opposite direction or scattering them out onto the already-crowded street. Much beeping, shouting, and cursing ensued. But I ignored it and kept my enhanced vision focused on the assault team. The NeuroDyne force spread out, and a few of them stationed themselves on the sidewalk and street while others headed toward a door.

  I gasped when I realized the NeuroDyne forces had halted just outside the door of the Lightspeed Café where I’d been just minutes before.

  I dug my nails into the bark of the tree. Before I noticed what I was doing, I’d created tiny holes in the shape of my hand.

  “Check her out,” a man said nearby and snapped me out of my focus. I swung my head, searching for the man as I released the tree, but I was dizzy with my vision still enhanced.

  My hands flew to my head. “Stop zoom.” After blinking my eyes, my eyesight returned to normal.

  On the sidewalk ten feet away, two men in their early twenties stared at me and grinned but kept walking after I glared at them. Luckily, no one else had stopped to gawk at me, so I turned my attention back toward the raid across the street. I didn’t need to zoom in to see that they’d busted through the doors of the café. I couldn’t tell what was happening inside the dark interior.

  But I was sure someone had tipped them off about me. Had it been the woman at the register or the guy sitting next to me? It didn’t matter. Now, I needed to move. As I walked briskly, I noticed an alley next to the building that housed Lightspeed and other stores. A man emerged from a side door wearing dark pants and a dark hoodie with the hood drawn tightly over his head. He walked quickly away from the building, toward the mouth of the alley, then turned and joined the pedestrian flow moving east.

  I flinched at the sight of his profile, at the large, unmistakable nose. It was my neighbor from the café. Somehow he must have found a way out before the raid. My fists clenched. He had to be the one who had tipped them off. I cursed myself. What an idiot I was. Of course he saw the NeuroDyne article—he had to close it for me because I was so clueless. He must've seen the police profile. Maybe he'd even accessed the computer after I left to see what I’d searched. Was there a way to do that? Crap. He was a coder; he knew how to spy.

  And now he knew I was out here. He could help them identify me. A strange feeling stirred deep in the pit of my belly. Anger simmering. I wanted to teach the guy a lesson, hurt him like I’d hurt Benny and his gang.

  Across the street, the stranger moved quickly, and if I didn’t exit the area fast, the cops would surely find me. I weaved a zigzagging path along the sidewalk, traveling east, keeping my eyes fixed on the hoodie-wearing whistleblower. Where was he going—the police headquarters? NeuroDyne offices, so he could claim the reward money?

  He took a right down an intersecting street, forcing me to cross the road again. As I picked my way through the traffic, a guy on an electric scooter braked suddenly, shouting, “Get out of the way, dumbass!”

  I sprinted away. “Asshole!” I shouted back, not thinking. It was a gut reaction. I dodged other traffic and reached the safety of the sidewalk, back to stalking the hooded informant.

  What was I doing? I should have grabbed a hotel room and laid low, but I needed to know if this guy was going somewhere to report me. He was certainly acting suspicious, leaving with his hood drawn as soon as the police showed up.

  But a thought nagged at me. He hadn’t stuck around to answer questions. Had he known they would come in fully armed? Weird that he would rat me out and then scram before claiming the reward.

  Turning right onto the street he chose, I jogged to catch up. Ahead of me, fifty paces, he slowed and pulled the top of his hood off, exposing his head. His hair was light brown, shaved closely in the back and styled longer on top with blonde streaks. He was tall—over six feet. Hard to tell from my angle. Then I remembered I had this weird voice command thing going on.

  “Tell me the height of that man,” I whispered and gasped as my target locked onto him. Stats rolled by in my field of vision: 6’3”; Heart rate 120 bpm; perspiration level 12%. “Stop,” I said, and a woman strolling next to me startled and let me pass.

  He was nearing the main promenade where I’d questioned the teen girls about the Nest. I wished I knew the time, and then strangely, digits appeared in the corner of my vision—12:46 a.m. I halted and clutched my chest, startled. All I did was think about the time and it showed up. The sensation was so strange. Apparently, I could command my cognition by voice, and not only that, a mere thought could control my capabilities. I shook my head, and someone bumped into me from behind, then grunted with exasperation.

  “Sorry,” I muttered and focused on the path ahead.

  While marveling at my newfound abilities, I’d momentarily lost my target. Hawking hell. I quickened my pace, sidestepping past gawking window shoppers and groups of teens huddled together on the busy avenue.

  My heart caught in my throat as I scanned the heads in front of me and failed to see the man from the café. Clenching my fists, I cursed myself for getting distracted.

  Along the sides of the boulevard, tucked underneath a large overhang from the towering glass buildings above, were various food vendors. The wafting scent of fried noodles and cooking oil floating past made my stomach growl. I stopped near a vendor selling sofu packs and scanned the crowd, looking for the tall man with the blonde streaks in his dark hair. It should have been easier to spot him without the hood.

  Still, I didn’t see him.

  My pulse raced, and adrenaline spiked through my legs. I drifted back into the crowd, letting them push me along the avenue, hoping the man would reveal himself, but realizing I had failed.

  And I was so hungry. When had I last eaten? I decided to stop since I’d lost the guy who’d nearly turned me in, anyway.

  I sidestepped toward the food stall area and searched the noodle stands, sticking with what I knew. A woman stood in line ahead of me, so I waited behind her. I turned my head to the left and did a double-take.

  There he was—the man from Lightspeed. His hood was drawn again, and he was w
aiting at the next stand.

  Twelve

  Hoodie guy paid for two hot dogs, then turned left and started walking. The woman in front of me had finished her transaction, and now the vendor stared at me. “What do you want?” he asked.

  “Oh, just…” I was hungry, but ordering would take too long. “Forget it.” I jogged after the man from the café.

  He walked much slower now, comfortably, and I matched my pace. Perhaps he lived around here and was in his element. A man heading in the opposite direction with a dark mustache and baseball cap passed him. They stopped and greeted each other with a strange kind of hand slap. They chatted, and I passed by, then halted and bent down, pretending to tie the laces on the soft brown leather boots I’d stolen from Terry. I paused and waited to see if the two men had moved. They finished their conversation, and hoodie guy started walking again. After he passed, I got up and followed.

  He turned right onto a less crowded street, and I backed off as he scanned right and left. I trailed him as he approached a police station—Luna Precinct 11. “Oh, crap,” I muttered under my breath. He was going in to report me, claim his reward.

  Whatever section of the city we’d entered was less frantic than the main promenade. The people here were not tourists. Tall three-story buildings lined both sides of the street. They looked hastily-built—rectangular units of fabricated polymer stacked haphazardly on one another. Faces peered out of windows gazing down or calling out to people below. I passed a few women dressed in tight miniskirts and revealing tops.

  “Hey, sweetie,” one of them called out to me. I stared at my feet and kept going, careful not to lose sight of the café man again.

  And he passed by the police station, didn’t even glance at it.