Would anyone speak up for her?
Frack! Skip had sent her here to be set up for something in these long hallways underground with no one else around. She looked at herself in the mirror and then down at that imitation red poppy in the white vase on the counter, which had taken on an alien, sinister appearance. Why did people make fakes that mimicked living flowers? Who was fooled by polyester fabric and plastic anyway? She placed it into the metal wastebasket, very quietly.
Until now, Mia assumed she had avoided all retribution from iCon for her many rebellions. But look what had been done to Jan, months after she committed a very meaningless offense! iCon didn’t overlook anything, didn’t forget anything, not the smallest affront. Retribution had been taken against her for being too enthusiastic and violating protocol, for presuming a familiarity with iCon’s CEO, Damien Cezary (touching his arm). How much worse than what Jan did was all of Mia’s rebellious activity — the repeated use of the forbidden door, leaving early, her refusal to be assimilated as a minion enmeshed with the Kewl Kidz, not attending an afterwork social function as commanded — none of it had not gone unnoticed after all. iCon intended to take the punishment out of her hide!
Her ideas about the kind of business she worked for had been based on airy nothings and naive assumptions. This went beyond workplace bullying, this was beyond sinister. iCon was a fracking twisted company run by unspeakably evil people. By whatever means, the Kewl Kidz had known she had planned to quit today and were trying to prevent her from getting away unscathed. Obviously, the extent of iCon’s secret activity was so much greater than she had imagined even in her paranoia. Invasions of her privacy. Sabotaging Jan and her personal life. Maybe even that very first encounter with Chase Amunson. And now this — whatever this was. Framed for corporate espionage (or something worse) by iCon’s security forces.
She decided that the reason really didn’t matter right now. She needed to get away first of all — investigate motives and reasons later. The idea of being arrested by the county sheriff suddenly seemed like a good option. Better to be taken away by the cops than held by iCon. What was the best first step? Call 9-1-1 to get help from the sheriff.
She tried her cell phone. No signal, which made sense because she was underground and anyway, Edgestow College had set up a WiFi dampening system that blocked all wireless signals in most of the buildings on campus, to ensure students paid attention to their classes. It must still be up and running. There were probably land lines in the rooms off this and the other hallways, but she was reluctant to use any phone connected to the Edgestow phone system. iCon security no doubt would immediately see that a phone on Basement Level 1 had been picked up and know where she was calling from. Probably could block the call as well. Maybe she should just duck into a room and hide out for a bit, and then once the search for her moved on elsewhere, she could take the elevator back upstairs and get out of this building, and away from iCon. She knew she’d be safer if she could get off the iCon property. Then she could call for help.
She scoffed, then said to herself, “Pfft! This will make leaving without giving proper notice a LOT easier. Now — I just have to find a way to escape without getting caught.”
Good thing her car was parked behind Flanagan Hall, her keys with her in her jacket pocket. Maybe they hadn’t spotted where she parked. If she could just get out of this sub-basement, get out of Noonan Hall, she would be heading away from the HQ, hopefully in a safer direction, less liable to capture by security guards on two-wheeled scooters. She opened the door a crack and looked toward the elevator. No guards, and more importantly, no cameras in that direction. She opened the door wider, looked back down the hall in the other direction. All clear that way too. On the opposite side of the hall, there were several doors. Hopefully, one of these rooms would work as a place to hide and lie low for a bit. Then later she could slip out, take the elevator back up before being found, escape from this building, and then call the sheriff. Sounded like a good plan, and it was time she put it into action.
She quietly crossed the hall and opened the nearest door, then stepped into the dark room without turning on any lights. She paused to lock the door behind her, even though the security guards no doubt had keys that would open it. Didn’t matter. Locking the door made her feel more secure. Standing just inside the door, she waited until her eyes adjusted to the ambient light coming from a bank of windows covering the entire front wall. She was at the back of a room set up like a movie theater, deep steps down both sides of the room along four tiers of padded theater chairs.
What kind of room was this? What was beyond the window?
18 | Capture
Her eyes adjusted to the dim light, Mia decided to leave the overhead lights off. She made her way down the steps past the four rows of padded theater chairs to the front and looked out of one of the windows. Below her there was a large room, two stories deep. Next door, the floor of Basement Level 1 on had been taken out to combine both basement levels into one large space. It reminded her of an overlook for a surgical theater, a viewing area designed for learning medical procedures, but the darkened room she saw beneath her wasn’t set up with medical equipment. Lit by a bank of very large flat screen monitors and the light from power buttons on multiple other machines and stacks of computer servers, the expansive space had walls and floor made of concrete, no other windows, rows of circuit breaker boxes lining the walls, power cables running across the floor in various places. There was a large glass case set up in the center of room where a surgical table would have been. The seven-foot long rectangular box was made of thick, clear glass or plastic that reminded Mia of a jewelry display case or the makeup counter at a department store — long, narrow, and somewhat deep. It was too dark to see clearly and the display case was made of a frosted and opaque (not transparent) material so she couldn’t see what was inside the large box. She also noticed that the harsh, unpleasant smell was very strong in this room, as if the foul stench of turpentine, copper, and rotting garlic all mixed together was coming directly from that room below.
She had no idea what this sort of room would have been used for when Noonan Hall had been a part of Edgestow College. To her knowledge, the college had offered only pre-med classes. No surgical classes, no doctors on campus to teach procedures, no reason for surgery to be included as a part of the curriculum. She assumed iCon had renovated the room for its own purposes once it had purchased the college.
Each one of the dozen or so large monitors mounted in rows on the back wall in the room below was displaying a different series of images that looked like home movies, experiences shared by one particular family. A pretty young mom baking a holiday dinner, Mom driving a car full of kids, Mom angrily yelling directly into the camera, Mom watching television and crying a little, Mom adjusting something below the frame as if straightening a tie, Mom smiling, Mom talking on the phone, Mom standing behind a little boy, both looking into a mirror. But wait — there was no sign of anyone holding a camera! But the angle clearly showed the perspective was from the little boy’s viewpoint, not someone standing out of the view of the mirror. These couldn’t be the displays of someone’s home movies.
Mia gasped, “Ohhh!” suddenly realizing what the source of the images was. There never had been a camera recording any of these events — this was a look at the procedure for capturing someone’s memories! Having been exposed to transhumanist ideas, Mia had no doubt that this was an experiment iCon was conducting on mind uploading. They had done it! Successfully capturing thoughts and memories from a human brain, iCon had made a great leap forward in realizing transhumanism’s goals. What she was seeing on the monitors in the next room was the output, the playback of actual memories from someone’s childhood, extracted and digitized, the recall of a personal history displayed as video.
Trying to get a clearer look at the room below, Mia bumped her shin on something on the wall under the window. She bent down
for a closer look at it in the half light. It was volume controls for a speaker. She clicked it on, but it was TOO LOUD! She quickly clicked it off. What if someone had heard! She waited for several long moments to see if anyone would try to enter the room. When nothing happened, she found the volume control, and using the light from her cell phone, dialed it down, then clicked it on again. She heard a man’s voice saying, “That’s great, Kevin. We were able to capture all of that data. You’re doing really great. Now bring to mind experiences with your father.” A second male voice said, “We need to capture this as well, to compare and contrast with the other memories.”
So, several people in the room below. She tried finding their location but didn’t see anyone. They must be in an alcove directly under the room she was in. What a relief she hadn’t turned on the light in this room! She would have given away her location for sure.
The pictures on the monitors all went black, then one at a time, they lit up again, showing a man standing on a deer hide rug, Dad at a dinner table, Dad driving a car, Dad throwing a baseball. But after a moment, all the images became chaotic, like a streaming video that pixelates when it isn’t getting sufficient bandwidth from its online connection. After a loud pop, all the monitors went back to black. The voice on the intercom said, “And we’re down. That memory stream didn’t load. Let’s try that again, Kevin.”
Mia could hear splashing somewhere below, while a woman’s voice on the intercom asked, “How do the endorphin and serotonin levels look for him? Check on his condition. Do it now!
“Kevin. How are you doing, Kevin? Kevin? Kevin? Guys, the connection isn’t functioning, I’m not getting anything now.”
The splashing intensified, and a light came on inside the case in the center of the room. The terrible smell intensified, and Mia thought she was going to gag, it was so strong.
Taking a second look, Mia covered her mouth in surprise when she realized that the glass case didn’t have a solid lid after all. Instead, it was a tank, completely filled with a white milky fluid. When there had been no movement, the calm surface of the liquid chemicals had appeared solid, but now something, someone inside the coffin-shaped tank was thrashing around violently, and the surface was agitated, sending white fluid onto the floor of the lab below. An arm emerged from the milky liquid, desperately groping to find a secure hold.
The speaker came to life again with a shout — “Get him out of the photon milk bath. STAT!” Rushing toward the tank, two people in white lab coats emerged from an unseen room directly underneath where she was standing.
Reaching into the milky white chemical, the lab techs lifted up the test subject’s head, encased in a helmet ringed with a glowing grid of electronic leads like an electronic halo surrounding a robotic angel’s head and glowing white wires that streamed out behind, a VR mask and breathing apparatus obscuring the face of the middle-aged man submerged in the tank. As they were removing the helmet, a chaotic thrashing of legs and arms started. In a moment, the thrashing became a full blown seizure gripping his entire body. The muscles of his torso tightened and constricted, arching his back in spasms backward. And as a result, his head jerked out of the hands holding him up. Mia heard a sickening thud as the man’s head slammed onto the top edge of the tank, followed by his body slipping down into the chemical milk bath. All his movement ceased. The lab techs reached under the chemical bath liquid and raised the man’s head above the surface of the milk bath in the tank again and began pulling off the mask and breathing apparatus, shouting instructions and calling for more help. There was still no movement from the man who had been submerged in the chemical fluid.
Just then, a single monitor came to life with the image of a grainy, low light view of a darkened window, and in one corner, a white face peering out of a dark room. None of the people working on the unconscious man in the tank filled with the foul-smelling chemical took any notice of it. The intercom in her room gave a feedback squeal, and then with the audio sounding like it was being digitally produced, an eerie, multi-pitched voice with a flat lack of modulation spoke. “I see you. You shouldn’t be there. I see you. In a moment, someone will come to collect you. I see you.”
With a gasp, Mia realized that it was her own white face in the monitor below. She stepped back, and in the screen the white face also disappeared. “I see you. You can’t hide. I see you. In a moment, we will capture you.” She stepped back again and tripped backward on the first of the steps going up the side of the room and sat down hard on the broad landing next to the row of theater seats. Under her breath, she said “Frack! Oh God, oh God, oh God!” She didn’t know how this was possible. She got that they were downloading the mind of the person in the tank. But he was unconscious now. Who or what (it sounded like a what) had seen her? What or who else was inside that man’s head, speaking even though he was unconscious? How was it possible? Who spoke in that horrible flat voice?
This was no time for questions. She needed to leave. NOW!
Moving at top speed, she got up and ran up the stairs, jerked on the door handle, fumbled with the lock, flung open the door, and then sped down the hall back to the elevator she had come down. She could hear equipment and weapons clattering, the echo of running footsteps coming up the hall perpendicular to hers. As she crossed the hallway and made it to the elevator, she glanced to her left and saw two approaching security guards closing in on her. Were they close enough to catch her? She wasn’t sure, but desperately hoped not.
The elevator doors opened as soon as she hit the button. Thank God! But then she had to stand inside the motionless car, waiting and waiting, while repeatedly punching the Close Door and first floor buttons, listening to the footsteps of the guards getting closer and closer. (She was afraid to stick her head out to see where they were, it would keep the doors from closing.) But thankfully, at last, the elevator doors slid safely shut before they reached her.
After an agonizingly slow elevator trip upward, she was back in the upper hallway, running full speed toward the door to the lobby. She was almost back to the reception area where there would be people who would provide cover and safety for her, protect her from being kidnapped by the security guards. From the lobby she could escape from this foul and stinking building. Running as fast as she could, she desperately wanted to get out of this horrible place, get back out into the fresh air and sunshine. Almost close enough to open the door to the lobby, she started to reach out to grab the handle. But the door swung toward her, as if on its own. Horrified, she looked up to see Chase entering the hallway. She tried to skid to a stop, but inertia continued her movement toward him. Scowling, he grabbed her by the arm, and she saw him open his mouth to say something, but she never heard it because, all in a flash, her body went completely limp as she blacked out.
19 | Mind
An eternity of listening to someone crying, whining, and wailing may have passed.
“Where is this place? Is this a place? I can’t tell. Where is the floor, the walls?! What am I doing here? What’s going on? Why won’t someone stop all of this! I don’t know what’s happening, it doesn’t make sense. Who am I? Oh, why have I forgotten? Why don’t I know my name?”
Another someone yelled, “Shut up! I don’t know who you are either, but I know what you are. Stupid! You’re stupid, and you’re not helping! I’ve lost something that I need to find. I can’t even remember what it was, but I need it. It’s important, but it’s gone now. Keep quiet so I can figure it out!”
But the whining, shrieking, and crying continued.
“I don’t belong here! I have to get out before I get into trouble. I don’t know what’s going on. Someone please tell me what’s going on.”
“Stop it! Stop it! Shut up! This is so horrible, I can’t think. Can you please just shut up! Now! I need to look for — something, whatever it is. ”
“Oh, what happened? They did something to me! Tell me what it was. I have to
get out of here! Where am I? Oh, please help me!”
Speaking over the everlasting whining, a strong and beautiful male voice spoke quietly.
— “Open your eyes, Mia.”
— “Mia? Is that my name? Mia? Nobody told me that. Hmm. I must be Mia.”
— “Open your eyes, Mia.”
— “I can’t. I don’t have eyes to open.”
— “Here, this will help.”
Warmth on hand. Someone was holding a hand.
— “I can feel that. This must be my hand. I didn’t know I had a hand. Someone is holding my hand.”
Both shrieking voices ceased while warmth and calm spread upward from the hand. Her hand.
— “There. Now you can open your eyes.”
— “There where? No, I can’t.”
— “Mia. Look at me.”
— “Oh. OK. I can see you now. Oh, hi! I know you. You’re TJ Hodges, King of the Lab!”
— “No, sweetie, that’s not who I am. But that’ll work for now. I’m speaking to you in a vision.”
— “No.”
— “Yes.”
— “Is this really a vision? That’s impossible. This can’t be. You wouldn’t ever speak to me, not after what I’ve done. This can’t be happening.”
No Geek Rapture for Me_I'm Old School Page 26
