“You weren’t in the bunker with your family?” Jim asked.
“Had I been, I probably wouldn’t be here today. I refused it, in denial of my Papa. I was just a teen, know-it-all, and surely didn’t believe any religious nonsense, or dream messages,” Rico spun back around to face the system and continued, looking at Felix. “I had a very stubborn cancer—it kept returning. The leukemia was finally put into remission by tech of the early 2020’s. It would have likely returned after the war, without tech, so, I suppose I did right. That’s my conundrum. I know you see the contrast well now Jim, life was less colorful for you a short time ago. I was only a few years older than you when it hit, but I remember well. I imagine you have a calling eating at you, ambitions, new desires, and powerful dreams.” Jim nodded. He surely recognized the difference and again thought of Amy. He only wished he could have made George understand. He wished, that it wasn’t only in his dreams that he’d beaten him to a pulp. Rico continued scrolling through the flies.
“Rico, you can log in with Amy, we all can,” Jim said. “She’s gonna pull through—I know it.”
“She’s very strong, I know she will Jim. And I’ve thought about just that many times since Ted came to me with the incredible readings. But I fear my cancer would return if I did, and we cannot cure cancer here in our town. In any event, our town would need a new operations manager.” Rico turned to him and gave a single inferring nod.
Jim knew what the look meant and he would be proud to take the job when and if the time ever came. He thought for a second how he might miss lending, but had quickly evaporated the idea. Perhaps he was ready to make something of himself, do something special, different, real, in the real world. He didn’t say anything else, he understood, and Rico continued looking through endless files.
Ron was at his station, and Devon his, and the twins were managing operations at the HAT. Everything was under control with the lenders, all were sound asleep, and oblivious to what was going on. For now the power remained on and things appeared to be perfectly normal. Perhaps David was just hiding out, figuring out what to do, scared. Rico had a member of security guard the door, and no new information had come in. Jim glanced up at the cameras. There was a chance David was watching their every move, but at least he couldn’t hear what they were talking about. There was also a chance he was drunk on the stored spirits, passed out, hopefully so. Jim watched Rico continue to dig through countless files, for something, and Ted pulled up a stool. He decided now is a good time as any to disclose his news. The mention of Amy made him recall it.
“I do have some interesting news,” Ted said. Rico was steadfast in his searching and it appeared he would be busy for a while. So, he decided to make use of the time. “I had been meaning to disclose our new findings, and then the tragedy with Amy—” He paused thinking of her, shaking his head.
“Ted?” Jim said, anxious to hear some good news for a change.
“You have it now Jim.”
“Have what?”
“Everyone that spent time with Amy has been, reverted. They can log in with anyone else, and they will be reverted as well. Their clumsy DNA modifications of the past, all erased—fixed. Amy’s—gift—well it appears to be contagious.”
Rico paused for a moment to face them both. Who wouldn’t be interested with this news? Now anyone can be a lender, a high output lender. And there’ll be fewer lenders needed at any one time. Both he and Jim were astounded.
“Does this mean, we don’t need Amy?” Jim asked sadly. “That, she’s done all that she was needed for?”
Rico saddened hearing Jim’s interpretation and his thoughts divided into two paths. One kept autonomically searching. The other, thought of his cancer. How, it was bad, really bad. How he had fought it through most of his childhood. He had his doubts about a revert involving himself.
“Well, there are some variables involved Jim. Amy still has far greater power than anyone. Her stats, as we already know—are off the charts. Yours have gone up considerably, and you do have the power to revert others, but it will take longer. Ron and I calculate about three to four times as long. And I think we will still need Amy to achieve the mysterious purple—”
“Found it!” Rico exclaimed. Ted hushed him pointing at the sleeping lenders. He nodded, oops. Rico continued his excitement on the down low. “It’s right here hidden in the coding. The Old Town map.” He presented a preview of the map and it filled the screen. “Okay—I don’t have the code, only Felix had it and he’s gone. But—this is a map of our town as it was before the war, about thirty or forty years before by the looks of it. My Papa told me a bit about it. That the machines gave the map directly to him and embedded with in it are the codes to this facility should they ever be needed. This is the only map that does not reset; changes to the world are stored forever, recorded. I believe it runs continually in the system. I vaguely remember the town from my childhood, we’d visited many times. It was so different then, just a little Mexican pueblo that barely made it onto any real map.” Rico lifted his chin in reminiscence. “The info must be in the bunker under his house. I think I could find—”
“You cannot log in,” Jim interrupted. Ted followed in agreement. “I’ll go, with another lender.” They both realized what could happen later because of the recent findings, and knowledge of Rico’s childhood cancer. Ted realized his news wasn’t quite good news, not in this case. The cancer, would it return?
“I think I’ll have to take my chances. We can’t wait any longer. Ted, prep us.” Jim shook his head in disagreement but there was no time to argue, they could very well lose power any second. Who knows what David was doing at this very moment. He might get wasted and smash the panels with a pipe, anything. They had to move—fast.
Jim and Rico rushed to the nearest pair of beds and prepped for login. Ted loaded the map and it appeared as a slice among the active maps on the hologram table. He walked over to the HAT, and with a hand gesture swirling motion he closed the other slices making the entire table show only the Old Town map. Their levers illuminated green, ready. Ted looked over to them and held up his hand with five fingers. Both signaled a confident ready.
42. Old Town
The rocking chairs creaked as the weight of their bodies demanded presence. Jim materialized sitting on the outer deck of an old saloon. The sky was vivid blue and the air like that of a blow-dryer. A vague layout of the town was the only thing its future version had in common; it looked almost entirely different. The roads were baked to a pale tan and the village resembled Mexico as it was before borders of the world had been abolished. A girl zipped by on a bicycle to big for her followed by three boys chasing her dust and screaming in Spanish. Across the street was a large outdoor mercado.
The lender building—Jim put it together—an old Wild West saloon. Ha! Before it was torn down of course. This must be at least forty years ago, if not more. He saw the blur of Rico’s form, and patiently waited, rocking slightly. They were facing what would become Main Street. He noticed a couple green and sweaty bottles of beer on the barrel between them. Don’t mind if I do, and he took a thirst-tackling chug.
Jim marveled at the town and any similarities he could spot, while Rico composed himself—taking much longer than any other lender to do (besides Nanny and Fran). He thought how quaint, and open, not surrounded by the choking wall; like the canyon map minus the canyon. And DC’s were already about in the streets, which surprised him. “How can DC’s be here before we complete the log in?” he asked turning to Rico who’d finally lost his translucence.
He noticed Rico looked nervous and his usual golden complexion looked as if it’d been smacked with a powder-puff. He began to breathe rapidly, more in than out. “Rico, just be calm and relax,” Jim said slowly, knowing it would pass. He reached across the barrel and rocked his chair which Rico white-knuckled like it was a roller-coaster ride. “Just take a long deep breath and let it out. Focus on something.”
Rico rarely, if ever logged in.
He’d always gotten jittery, and after bringing the system down several times he decided it just wasn’t compatible with him. Running the control room and staying in the real world would have to be enough.
He started hyperventilating then his grip loosened and he began shaking. As if he was blind he rose up feeling the air with his hands. Panic set in. Escape was all he wanted now. He felt he had to get away, out, anywhere, but stumbled and fell down the wooden steps. Jim leapt to catch him but it was too late. He lay on the street shaking hysterically, his cheek in the dust, drooling. Jim rolled him over and his eyes fell back into his head.
Back at the BROCC a silent alarm flashed above Devon’s screen, and another near the HAT. A red glow put urgency in the air. Lender instability was about to bring the system down. Devon did his job, desperately attempting to stabilize Rico’s feed. But there was little else he could do. Ron leaned in seeing things had plummeted beyond what is recoverable. Ted shook his head in dismay watching at the HAT thinking, any other time but now. Not now. Rico’s mental stability was wildly fluctuating, up then down, up then down even lower, dropping like a stone. Oddly his physical status was also taking a hit and his heart rate destabilized. Jim’s, invariable as always, held steady.
Devon looked to Ron and shrugged. He said, “Nothing I try is working. He’s about to be forced out—it’ll put us in the red for sure. His I/O parameters are fine but his subconscious is not accepting the environment, same as last time, he’s freaking out.”
“Let’s hope Jim can get him calmed down,” Ron replied turning back to his own screen. “With these readings it’s out of our hands now.”
Ron, in charge of map stability, couldn’t seem to make adjustments to this Old Town map, not that he’d ever had an extensive amount of control for others, but some, at least! And now he too felt totally helpless. Devon, in charge of lender’s mental and physical states had more control but there was only so much he could do, and he’d already done everything. The system was designed to allow for minimal human control. Unfortunately, they could only wait, and hope. They both got up and went to the HAT where Ted, with a hand covering his mouth stood shaking his head.
“Why in the world did Rico log in with Jim anyway?” Devon asked. “And according to this, the Old Town map is a non-lending map. What’s the purpose of that?”
“They went in to get some information. Hopefully a code that can get us out of this mess,” Ted replied. Both Ron and Devon quickly realized the stakes, and what this could mean if Rico was to falter. The three looked toward the beds. Rico was shaking and sweating and Ted rushed over to aid his sleeping body anyway he could. They’d went through something similar the last time Rico attempted to log in, years ago, but nothing near as severe as this. He wiped the sweat from Rico’s forehead with a cool wet cloth and spoke in a calm quiet whisper, “Hang in there Rico. You can do this.”
Another alarm went off at Devon’s station. Rico’s heart!
“Rico, easy, calm.” Jim said. On the dusty road Rico lay on his back having spasms. “Focus on my voice. You’re gonna be just fine, it’ll pass.” Others arrived and peered over Jim’s shoulder as he strove to comfort his friend who was now ghost-white, stiff, and clammy; opposing the warm morning air his sweat became ice cubes. His body looked like a cadaver, his eyes bulged and became turbid with a bluish haze; and it shocked even Jim.
Rico felt the sensation of touch abandon his fingers and toes first and the loss crept up his arms and legs. Tunnel vision, closing in, everything getting farther from the light, darker, and darker. A big hand as large as his body pushed him deeper into the cold abyss, beyond the walls of the tunnel. High above like a window into nothingness, from the top of the tunnel Jim called. His voice was hollow and quickly became unrecognizable as the window of light got smaller. Farther, farther, the darkness blanketed everything, leaving only a pinhole.
“Hijo.” A voice came from the crowd.
It echoed against the tunnel walls and fluttered into the void bringing the slightest trace of a memory. Only a white pinprick of light remained but the void had stopped suffocating him. The tunnel became near again until he was inside it once more, and the pinhole enlarged as he moved even closer. He felt, feeling. It grew from his chest and filled his body with sensation once again. Forward motion, the massive hand was behind now, pushing him out, faster, and faster.
“Rico. Hijo!” The voice was loud, and distinguishable.
“Papa!” Rico spoke—he had lips, and a face, then a body once again. His own words echoed inside the tunnel. “Papa!” The face at the end of the tunnel was leathery, worn, and scarred, but warm and welcoming. Growing faster, and faster, the window grew ever larger.
All exploded into a burst of calm fading white light as Rico was birthed unto reality, shot-put onto the dusty road. He could feel the warmth of the dry air and his heart beating to a normal rhythm. His vision returned with the things near to him first, until everything, including the brilliant popping blue of the sky flooded his senses. With a beaming smile, his papa stood over him—and Rico, was back.
“Wow, yes!” exploded Devon, quietly, but energetically, ousting his arms up.
“He did it. Never—wow. Just wow,” Ron said joining his excitement. He reached and arm over to his bud Devon. They both grabbed each other’s shoulders and squeezed with content.
Really, something weird had happened—and Rico’s life, for a moment, was in jeopardy. Yet now, with his color returning, his heart rate settling, Ted hurried over to the hologram table to see where stood Ron, Devon, and the twins, awing and felicitating quietly. They watched as Jim, and some others, helped Rico to his feet. Oddly the dream characters standing around Rico weren’t illuminated with any of the standard blue-green colors. A few exhibited the exact same characteristics as a lender. They were haloed in glowing white!
Felix held out a hand to his grandson, who was now just as dusty as he after having had rolled on the ground. Rico took his hand and rose to his feet. Felix was thin and strong. He wore a short-sleeve faded-red plaid shirt and a pair of jeans that had been mended more times than worth it. They stood apart looking at each other for a moment, both the same height, glaring into each other's eyes.
“It, can’t be,” Rico said slowly. “Ha!” They burst into laughter and hugged. “Papa,” Rico said squeezing his father while Jim watched. Jim knew it was only a dream character but decided not to ruin the moment with his interruption, especially after what had just happened. They patted each other on the back sending dust into the air.
“Como estas Rico? You have aged, pero I still knew it was you,” Felix said. He had a heavy Spanish accent and spoke Spanglish—a mix of English and Spanish. “And I’m glad I arrived to you, just in time.”
“Rico,” Jim whispered. “You do know this is not your father, but merely a dream character. Most likely generated by your mind.”
“Hola Señor y mucho gusto,” Felix said tipping his straw cowboy hat and holding out a hand. Jim slowly and reluctantly, shook it. “There is much for you to learn here. I am a character generated into this world just as you are. We stand in front of each other, aqui mismo, but I am not a mere dream character. Neither are some of these people around me. Yo soy Felix Castillo. Y—” Felix continued mixing the languages. “—had I not made it to Rico in time, he would be trapped here as well, and his human body—” Felix made a slicing hand gesture across his neck. “—muerto.”
Jim shook his head grinning. He knew that dream characters would say anything, and would appear just as real as any other person. They could surprise. They could lie. And they would fight with a desire to continue to be—to live. He was well experienced with the fact and saw it every single day when logged in at work, for years. But, for now he went along with it, he wasn’t there to kill anyone today; they had to get the codes, and fast. But, Rico continued to converse with his father; he was elated to see him again regardless. Jim stood aside hoping it would help to further stabilize Rico in the map.
But after a bit, he had to break up their reunion. “He really is just a dream character,” Jim whispered again, just a bit louder, then spoke aloud, “Rico, we need to get what we came here for as soon as we can.”
“Right,” Rico replied looking around, pressing his smile with a sigh. He was right, they needed to continue with the mission. The recollection snapped him out of it and he decided that Jim, with his overflowing experience, was correct. And so Rico said adios and turned away after getting one last memorable look at his father. The Felix that stood in front of him couldn’t know anything that he didn’t know, so along with Jim, he headed down the street abandoning the man who’d just saved him.
“Rico!” Felix yelled. The old man ran to catch up. “Bueno, you still don’t believe me Señor Jim. Esta bien, pregúntame lo que sea, ask me anything. Something neither of you would know.” Jim pondered the idea and looked around at the old town. He could hardly tell it was the same place they lived in and thought it might not be easy for Rico to remember where the bunker was. If anything, the old man could retrieve a memory from Rico’s subconscious.
“Okay, what the hell,” Jim said. “We are looking for your bunker, and the codes to the lending facility.”
“We’ll why didn’t ya just ask? Ran into some trouble out there I suppose,” the old man answered. “Sígueme pues.” Felix headed over to an old faded blue pickup truck parked at the edge of the outdoor mercado, a flea market that now, bustled with people, tents, and good old school commerce. Jim then recognized it. The flea market is, would be, the green town park in the center of Jewel City. It looks so different without trees, he thought. And then he recognized Park Avenue across the way and some of the old buildings that lined it. The longer he stayed, the more he distinguished.
Lenders Page 36
