Ill Wind

by Tal Turing

  “Yes, I was supposed to talk to Donnie. But apparently the tables are turned and he wants to speak with me. Very badly. He has help. But he and his friends will have to leave eventually.”

  Tym sighed. “I have to leave tomorrow morning. I can take you with me and I'll tell Mother that they broke the contract by using you in a non-ops capacity. She will be furious with them, but I don't know how she will feel about whatever she wanted you to do for them.”

  “Thank you,” Cyn smiled, “but I have to stay. It's the life.”

  “Are you sure?” Tym said, looking genuinely concerned.

  “Of course, but you are sweet, for an exec,”

  “I will speak to Patron before I leave, I'll let him know that...”

  “No,” she said simply, slipping close to him. Her finger to his lips, “anything that makes it look like I have an advantage will hurt me in the end. So no talking to Patron, okay?”

  The man nodded and his vitals which were elevated before started to rise quickly as soon as she had touched him. She removed her hand from his face and he looked at her incredulously.

  “How do you do this? How do you live this life? I just can't see how you aren't a nervous wreck all the time?

  “It's like anything, you get used to it,” she assured him.

  “Well, you'll stay here tonight, right?”

  “That would be so helpful,” she smiled.

  He stood and walked to a door.

  “I don't even use the bedroom, those mattresses are too soft, so I normally work late into the night and sleep on the floor or the couch. So you take the bedroom, get what sleep you can, after the guests have left I'll take you to the private elevator, it goes straight to your floor. It's a service elevator. Executives get all sorts of perks.”

  This was too good to be true, Cyn thought to herself. But he was Techview and he seemed to know Mother. And of course his blood pressure and heart rate were still high, from the moment he had seen her. She was relieved and flattered and, for the first time in a while, relaxed.

  Cyn uncurled her legs from beneath her but made no move to rise.

  “I might need another favor, Mr. Matheson,” she said simply.

  “Tym. Sure, just tell me what it is?”

  “Just like that?” she smiled again. “Anything I ask?”

  He stood there.

  “Isn't that the standard response?”

  “It's not the standard response but it is my favorite response. Are you ready?”

  “Sure,” he laughed a bit nervously.

  Cyn decided that she loved this AI. She told him and watched his reaction, deciding it was completely genuine.

  “Really?” he huffed, his eyes widening.

  “You did ask how I cope with the stress, right?”

  Cyn's body rocked slowly, her eyes closed, her mind ignoring tiny warnings from another part of her brain that were trying to get her attention, to tell her this was not a good idea.

  Not a good idea? It bordered on stupid!

  She smiled even as she felt a familiar tingling in her body, one that she had not experienced in recent months. She knew this was a bad idea, a good asset knew better than to tangle with the irresponsibly powerful; it was like jumping into a storm without a suit. But in the end, she just couldn't help it, the last weeks had been so arduous, so stressful with little outlets and no control over even small aspects of her life. Besides, the man seemed infatuated in a way that somehow she liked and, yes, the risky nature of it all added to it all.

  Her eyes opened to slits, looking down at the top of his face lodged between her tanned, firm thighs. She vaguely hoped she would not hurt him, she had broken a man's nose once doing this. But then her body was seized by a series of tremors and those thoughts flew from her mind as the air pressed out of her lungs and a delightfully musical moan filled the room.

  Miriam

  Miriam was both angry and confused as she stumbled out of the ladies room, nearly half an hour later. Why had Cyn acted like that? And what did she mean? Had she somehow learned about Donnie's plans? And what was all that talk about playing games? But there was truth there. Since she had arrived in New Berlyn, she had been following Petyr's orders and Donnie's wishes...none of it the way she would have proceeded. Was the olive-skinned girl that perceptive?

  I cannot help him if my hands are tied! She yelled at herself and the Bugs.

  We do not trust you either, that is why we limit you.

  The Bugs rose up in her ears, a maddening screech and roar that made her want to bash her head into the floor. She saw a serving asset walking near her.

  “Please help me,” she cried, tears streaming down her cheek.

  She sat in the private room, two pain patches applied, one on each side of her neck, but the headache would not stop.

  Petyr's experiment is a success in spite of him, not because of him. I changed all of his formulas, you KNOW that! He would have killed us all if I had followed his prescriptions.

  The Bugs punished her for that blasphemy and she whelped.

  The door opened and a sea of voices flooded the room.

  “Close the fucking door!” snarled Miriam, curled up on a couch.

  “What is wrong?” a panicky Brad hurried over to her. She ignored him, looking up only to survey who else was in the room. He had brought Donnie and that creepy Steve had tagged along. Brilliant.

  “We couldn't find her,” Donnie sighed.

  “Thank you, I was able to determine that myself. Looks like you'll have to find a replacement test subject. Why don't you sweet talk some sex-hospie, there should be plenty of them around tonight.”

  Donnie looked at her and nodded toward the others.

  “What? I know that Steve is in on it. Give me some credit.” Steve stiffened in response. And then she added, “And Brad is stage 4, it doesn't matter what I say now.”

  “Perhaps you two should try again to find her,” Steve suggested.

  “Marvelous, you go with them, that should ensure success. Try her damn room or is that too obvious?” she laughed even as her stomach flared with pain. She closed her eyes and when she opened them, minutes later, only Steve was still there.

  “The Doctor isn't happy with you,” he smiled wickedly.

  “You DO NOT speak for Petyr!” Miriam replied.

  “I do actually. You know I think this is all a test of sorts, to test YOUR loyalty. And you are failing,” Steve smiled as he grew closer.

  “Stay, the fuck, away!” Miriam cried even as her vision dimmed and became spotty, as the Bugs continued their punishments. Suddenly she felt him close, his cologne was strong and she instantly hated it. Then she felt his hands were around her neck.

  “You aren't useful to me any more,” he laughed and she felt a sharp prick of her skin, right through her med patch. Her sightless eyes opened and bulged as she felt fluid being forced into her neck.

  She sensed him draw away, still talking to her, taunting her but she was having trouble moving now, even to respond to the pain caused by the Bugs. His hand pressed between her legs as he droned on, she couldn't even hear what he said now but she caught glimpses of the ugly leer on his face.

  Miriam heard the hiss of a spray bottle and felt droplets of something speckle her skin, her arms, her neck and her thighs. It tingled and she caught a whiff, it was some sort of cleaner. He was removing his finger prints, his oils, his disgusting DNA from her body. He had stopped speaking, thankfully, and she knew he was killing her or had killed her. She could no longer move.

  She thought of her child, their child. Who would care for it?

  Abduction

  Edwyrd

  Edwyrd rose early, checked communications and diagnostics then summoned his private cruiser. As it lifted him high above Transom House, he saw the parade of villager and vendor vehicles which had lined up to receive the equipment and supplies which had been brought in over the last couple days in order to fuel the large social event. Now it all had to go back.


  He hated open Transom events like the one that had occurred the previous night, too many people to monitor even for the automated systems. But it was over and there were no significant incidents or abnormalities reported.

  Normally, he would take this day off and spend it on one of his many unofficial projects but he had received an invitation to a meeting in SkyTran Dome, a discussion on the raider incursion his patrol had discovered. It was a meeting he needed to attend.

  The weather, as usual, was averse to the idea so he had to wait in line for the tunnels. It was then that he received a message from Stym.

  “Boss, something strange happened, this morning we found a young woman, passed out in one of the rooms. She is still unconscious, pretty close to death.”

  “Damn it!” he moaned, “What happened? And who is she?”

  “Humantis junior officer. She's in medical now. There was something else weird - her skin has large, shiny black splotches.”

  “You said she is Humantis? Have you notified them?”

  “Yes, they are sending someone but until then it was agreed to leave her in our facility. They can decide if they want to move her.”

  “Don't let her go until we determine what happened to her. Keep me posted,” Ed muttered, a growing sensation telling him it was a mistake to not turn around right now.

  Ann

  Ann's eyes slid open even before the man could touch her bare arm. She looked into his eyes, analyzing his intent and purpose.

  “What's wrong?” she demanded, knowing he was waking her for a good reason, a serious matter.

  “It's Miri, something happened to her. They just told me, I am going to her now.”

  Ann scrambled after him, pulling a shirt onto her torso, bare legs beneath it as they flew through the halls of Transom House to the medical area and into a private room.

  Miriam lay stiff on an examination table. Her eyes were open, eyelids unblinking, her lips parted. Her neck, her entire neck was discolored, a shiny black. Even as Ryk ran to her, Ann could see the monitors, she might not be alive, but she was not completely dead.

  “What happened?” she whispered, her voice breaking out.

  “We don't know,” the technician said back. “It's the strangest thing, as if her body is attacking herself. See her neck?”

  “Yes, what does it mean? Why is it so discolored?”

  “I don't know, but when we first found her, her entire body was like that.”

  Lil AI

  Cyn slipped back her room early in the morning. The building was still asleep except for service assets who had started to clean up and move equipment.

  She had no idea how much time she would have to herself before she might be given a new assignment and she wanted some time to work with LilAI.

  She had been able to use the device effectively but not proficiently and it had required a great deal of concentration and effort. She needed more practice and she wanted to explore all of the functionality. The 360 degree visual display was often confusing and she frequently was forced to limit the sheer number of visual cues and call outs. She did much better with the audio streams thanks to her omnaudience so she wanted to open those up.

  Cyn worked for a full hour, then took a break, drinking some water and crawling into her bedchamber to rest a bit. The sounds of vacuums and equipment movers hummed in the hallway. She had received another message from Donnie but she did not have time for it right now. Whatever he was up to, it could wait until she had time to formulate a strategy for playing his game. If Ed were around and she had the courage to find him, she could report the whole incident. But, in the back of her mind, she worried that he was also part of this. What hope would she have if the entire Harilla clan was aligned against her?

  LilAI pinged her, reminding her to try the 'advanced' mode. The AI sent her a flood of descriptive text, about an advanced scouting mode which would allow the unit to split into various components. Probably not a good idea, she thought to herself, as she had difficulties even with the single unit. But she was curious and the word 'advanced' challenged her. Cyn mused that it would not be the first unadvised action she would have taken recently. She decided she would try it briefly and then return to her practice with the main unit.

  “Fine, go ahead Lil AI,” she smiled.

  There was a pause, then she felt the sounds of the world muffle and her vision gray as the device assumed control of her sensory implants which affected her optic and auditory nerves. She waited for the world to come back.

  Then she yelped as she saw the AI device explode into pieces. One portion flew toward the wall but pulled away at the last moment and lifted into the air. Another piece ran along the bed and scurried onto the floor. The base remained where it was, seemingly inert.

  It was awful. Where before she saw from a single view point, now her entire visual stream had somehow been split into two, each of which was moving and with large spatial separations between.

  Cynnamon clenched her eyes and covered her ears to block the sensations, but the stimuli came straight at her, directly into her brain. Her ears were flooded with conversations and sounds, she was not choosing them, it was, they were, leaving her both confused and disoriented.

  She wanted to turn them off, to tone it all down but she was so overstimulated by the mass stream of information she could not even find the virtual controls to do so, she couldn't find anything now, she had lost all control.

  "Stop." she urged verbally, alarmed by the pain. She started to feel nauseous and sank to her knees. "Just stop it!" she cried, wishing the two drones could simply stop moving if they wouldn't turn off. Her eyes teared from the pain and she felt her forehead suddenly meet the hard floor.

  She felt a cool blast of air on her neck. She ignored it as she fought waves of nausea and a pressure behind her eyes which threatened to split open her skull. She was aware that someone was trying to help her to her feet.

  "I'm okay, it's okay." she insisted. But she was pulled to her feet and swept into the air. The rapid movement and spin on her head made her feel even worse and before she knew it, her body was encased in soft padding and her hearing was dampened.

  She could still see flash images of the room amid the visual tidal wave that was washing over her. Thus she was vaguely aware that a large object was now in the room...and that it was withdrawing. It was an equipment mover, large enough to hold a person. Another flash and she saw her room again, the door was closing, leaving an empty chamber. She was no longer in her room.

  Held

  Cyn felt a throbbing pain in her head. It was the agony of looking directly at a sun filled sky after a lifetime of never seeing anything more than clouds; it hurt and confused. But rather than having pupils which could constrict and block the excess light, her brain was laid bare to the onslaught of information transmitted by the drones. The streams of multidimensional video and audio kept coming, each stream interspersed with the other as if intentionally overwhelming her. She could also hear sounds, words, machine hums, the rustlings of fabric.

  Once she had prided herself on her omnaudience, her ability to retain and process multiple conversational streams at once, but now she wanted to cry out to whoever controlled the sounds and the sights of the universe and admit that she had been humbled and that she wanted the test to stop.

  Her physical body was pummeled softly from all sides as if she was caught within a vibrating compartment. She heard familiar voices but she was too distressed to care to identify any of them.

  The stream of images kept coming but now there were delightful breaks of pure, quiet, blackness; respites from the storm that had battered her senses and her mind. She felt a hand on hers. One stream of images assaulted her mind and then there was nothing, and then another stream and then again there was black.

  "Cyn darling. How do you feel?"

  Another familiar voice, she turned her head in its direction like a cat sensing movement. She attempted to open her eyes but found they were already open and st
ill she saw nothing.

  "Are we going to the hospital?" she asked weakly trying to keep the worry out of her voice. She wanted to cry 'turn that thing off” but who would understand what she meant? Who could know she had subjected herself to some strange AI which seemed to have malfunctioned and was now tormenting her.

  "You weren't feeling well, but you are getting better."

  Donnie?

  "Donnie? Is that you? What happened?"

  "Yes, darling, don't worry. I am going to take care of everything."

  And she was relieved. Relieved to have someone with her, someone to reassure her that her whole mind and body hadn't been dropped into a rabbit hole of endless imagery and sounds, a sensory jigsaw that could never be completed.

  "Can you turn on a light so I can see you?" Cyn asked, hoping desperately that darkness might be the reason that she could not see anything except the world of AI drones wandering in her quarters.

  Suddenly, she was lifted, swept from standing upright to a horizontal position; her back pressed against a padded surface, an examination table? It didn't matter, the quick change in orientation sent her brain into a dizzying spin which didn't stop even as she was sure that her body had. It was worse than a night of chemical abuse. She tried to prop herself up by one arm, but she couldn't get any leverage. She gave up.

  "I love you Cyn" came the same voice as before, Donnie. Was anyone else there? Cyn felt him squeeze her knee and move her leg. She tried to reassure him that she would be okay, that she just needed to turn onto her side and be left there, so the spinning would stop. The image blasts were more infrequent now, but they struck the nerves behind her eyes like sledge hammers every time they appeared, suddenly, from the darkness; the suddenness in which they appeared was itself alarming.

  Then she felt the scrape of skin on her face, dry skin. It was someone's lips.

  "Its okay, Donnie. I just need to get up," she protested as she tried to sit, but she was unable. Now she felt the kisses become more urgent as was the parting of her legs. She tried to close them but something had been placed in the space between her knees and that something did not yield to her efforts. Her muscles fatigued even as she felt her legs pressed further apart by the thing which slid along her thighs, inward.