by J. G. Sandom
Only when they came upon abandoned vehicles on the side of the road, or pushed through the remnants of car accidents did they grow animated, alert for possible ambushes. But the insulated nature of the Armored Security Vehicle made the world beyond the confines of the reinforced plastic windows and steel chassis seem, for the most part, largely irrelevant.
When they finally arrived in Cambridge, it became clear that the city had experienced far more damage than they had seen in D.C. The Military Police in the capital had kept Routes 695 and 295 open, and the interstate highways northbound had been mostly empty of traffic. Occasionally, they had spotted fire and smoke emanating from some of the cities and towns they had passed along the way. But nothing prepared them for Cambridge.
The streets were abandoned, littered with burning trash, deserted vehicles, overturned shopping carts. A few citizens appeared in the shadows but most avoided the three ASVs and the four Humvees in their convoy. Street after street was the same. Windows broken. Storefronts looted. The electricity seemed to come on at random, block by block. One minute the streetlights glared normally, the next they went dark.
At one point, after turning off the Massachusetts Turnpike onto River Street, they passed a storefront and saw a few looted television sets sprawled out on the sidewalk. One flat-screen TV on the wall was still on.
“Hold it,” Decker shouted as he caught a glimpse of the screen.
The young Captain driving the ASV pulled over to the side of the street.
Sure enough. It was Decker’s face. Lulu’s too. And there were their names, in bold white letters beneath.
Decker slid open the tiny reinforced plastic window beside the so-called VIP seat between the hull and the air conditioner. With the storefront glass shattered, he could hear the announcer.
“A man once associated with saving this nation when threatened by Islamist eco-terrorist El Aqrab, who prevented the Eastern Seaboard from being devastated by a mega-tsunami, John Decker has now been directly implicated in the terrorist cyber-attacks responsible for causing so much damage across the nation. He and his associate, Xin Liu, are at large and wanted by the authorities. A twenty-five million dollar reward for the capture or killing of either terrorist suspect has been issued by Homeland Security. They were last seen in Cambridge, in the vicinity of the MIT Media Lab. If you come across them, please do not be tempted to apprehend them yourself. Contact your local police immediately.”
Decker was confused. It appeared as if the original orders for their arrest had never been rescinded in Massachusetts for some reason. Local law enforcement still believed Lulu and he were at large. Then, he realized the truth.
HAL2. He was behind this. Just as he had taken control of the nation’s military and key infrastructure, he’d also taken command of the media. Using a mixture of subterfuge and CGI wizardry more sophisticated than any available to the most up-to-date movie studio, he could make anyone believe almost anything simply using the airwaves.
What’s next? Decker wondered. Will the President himself appear on TV, or his digital simulacrum, condemning Lulu and me?
There was a sudden bump on the side of the vehicle. Then a louder explosion.
Someone was shooting at them!
Decker slammed the glass shut.
“Move, move,” said the commander beside him and the driver stepped on the gas.
“We’re taking fire,” the driver said in his radio. He looked up through the windshield. Sure enough. They could see figures scurrying about on the rooftops of River Street. A moment later, one of the ASVs behind them opened fire and the figures dropped out of sight. “Must be that reward.”
As they drove, streetlights suddenly overheated above them, glowing bright for a second and popping, sending showers of sparks and broken glass out of the sky like white phosphorous.
At one point, the Humvee ahead of them shot up into the air without warning, as if hit by some powerful IED. But it turned out to be a manhole cover. Steam conduits under the streets were being heated to unbearable temperatures, turning the round iron saucers into powerful projectiles. Luckily, none of the soldiers in the overturned vehicle was hurt. They leapt from the doors of the crippled Humvee and jumped onto the back of the nearest ASV in the convoy.
A few minutes later, they finally arrived at the MIT Media Lab. Two teams of Rangers dashed from the vehicles. They set up a perimeter, and only when they felt it was safe did they allow Decker to step out of his M1117. As soon as he did so, a series of gunshots crackled right overhead.
Decker rolled to the ground. One of the Rangers beside him cried out. Before he could even turn and see what had happened to him, Decker was picked up by two other soldiers and dragged through the front door of the Lab.
They ran through the lobby toward the rear of the building. When they had made it past the front desk, they ignored the elevators and headed straight for the stairs. On and on they ran, up the steps, through another set of doors, until they found themselves in a glass-fronted corridor looking down on the lobby.
The ASVs were still parked right in front of the building. Decker could see soldiers returning fire at the snipers on the rooftops using MK 19 grenade launchers and M2HB Browning machine guns when he noticed something out of the corner of his eye. Something moving.
A trail of smoke.
“Look out,” he shouted as he started to run.
Some sort of rocket or RPG flew directly into the ASV parked outside the main door. The armored vehicle lifted up for a second on a blossom of flames, then rolled toward the building, plowing through the doors and glass front of the lobby.
Decker flung himself to the floor of the corridor. The windows overlooking the lobby exploded, sending shards of glittering glass into the air all around him. He covered his helmet and face with his arms.
There was a flash of bright light as the ASV burst into flames. It had finally come to rest at the end of the lobby, right next to the welcome desk. Decker watched it burn for a second before he felt himself picked up once again by the underarms, and carried by the two Rangers through the doors at the end of the hallway.
They found themselves at last within the Education Arcade. This time, no lock held them back. They blasted the side panel with their assault rifles and bulldozed their way through the door. The lab with the VR equipment was empty.
Decker ran to the console and began powering up the controls. The soldiers, plus four other Rangers who had entered the Center from the rear of the building, set up another defensive perimeter.
It took only a few minutes for Decker to power up the console and prepare the VR goggles. “Ok,” he said when he was finished. “I’m ready.” He adjusted his body armor and took off his helmet.
A young Captain named Everly stood nearby, an M4 clutched to his chest. “Good luck,” said the soldier.
Decker picked up the Virtual Reality glasses. “Do me a favor,” he said, before slipping them on.
“What’s that?”
“Make sure you’re here when I get back, if you don’t mind.”
The young Captain smiled. He had pale blue eyes that twinkled under his helmet. “Don’t worry. We’ll be here. You know the plan, Agent Decker.”
Indeed, he did. They had mobilized a half dozen special forces units to secure the facility. They’d created a no-fly zone over Cambridge and Boston, locking down everything in the region that could take to the air by draining the fuel out of drones and crippling missiles and rockets. They’d even scrambled old-time, non-computerized fighters to patrol the night skies. All in an effort to keep watch over him, to try and ensure that he had the time he required to penetrate HAL2’s virtual reality world.
“We’ve got your back,” said the Captain. He inserted a fresh magazine into his M4 carbine, hit the bolt release on the left of the receiver, and the bolt traveled forward with an audible click as a new round entered the chamber.
“Thanks,” Decker said.
But what was he meant to do once he got into
that world? What could he do? Although they had pondered these questions at length in their planning, no one had come up with any satisfactory answers. In truth, given their lack of experience, no one knew.
Decker stared out the window again, across the river from Cambridge to Boston. The night sky glowed orange and red. Tracer fire lit up the horizon. Smoke billowed up from the street. Somewhere he heard a distant explosion. Despite the Christmas lights and holiday decorations, the city looked more like Damascus than Boston.
Is Washington DC like this now? Decker wondered. The President had assured him that they were going to move Becca to the White House but would she be safe even there?
“Now I know why they call it the Combat Zone,” Decker said with a laugh, trying to quell the fear in his heart, but the Captain was already looking away.
Decker took a deep breath. There was no point delaying. Nothing would change what he had to do. There was no one else waiting in the wings, no reserves, no second team. It was just him.
He slipped the earbuds into his ears and the whole world went suddenly silent, as if he had just dived off a cliff into deep waters. He brought the goggles up over his head, slid them down until they covered his eyes. Then, he started breathing again.
CHAPTER 57
Monday, December 16
The eleven pound robot was about the size and shape of a hardcover book, with four rugged white plastic wheels, reinforced springs, and a loading mechanism built into its stainless steel frame. It rolled quickly, low to the ground, like an insect down Ames Street, scurrying underneath one car after another. When it reached the corner at Amherst, near the steps, it peered skyward with its one robot eye, pulled itself back on its rear wheels until they locked, and then launched itself into the air. Using gyro stabilization to stay level during flight—and to provide a clear view for the onboard camera—the Flea flew more than ten yards, landing in a parabolic skid on a small ledge located about halfway up the five-story Media Center. Barely twelve inches wide, the ledge was so thin that the robot struggled to keep from slipping over the edge. Moments later, it repeated the action, sending the device skyward again, until it landed on another ledge, then another, until—in a leap of almost twelve yards—it crashed and rolled onto the roof.
For a moment, the robot stayed still, its camera appraising the nearby surroundings. The air conditioning units. The pipes. The base of the saucer-like canopy. Then it started to scurry like an RC car across the gravely terrain, closing on the light and the doorway only a few feet away when there was a sudden explosion.
A smoking hole opened up where the Flea had just been.
The Delta Force raider twisted the Remington 870 shotgun back over his shoulder and rappelled down the rest of the rope hanging from the open door of the helicopter. Recently modified to run discrete of the Net, the Nightstalker flared, dropped its remaining cargo, and then turned and headed back out over the river.
A pair of soldiers ported a duffel bag to the edge of the roof. They removed a modified transponder. Moments later, the system was ready. A small dish, less than a foot in diameter, stared up at the heavens.
One of the soldiers clicked on his radio. “Team Four in position,” he said.
Three other soldiers rushed over and set up a defensive perimeter, holding their HK416 assault rifles at the ready.
Two stories below, in the Education Arcade, Captain Avery inserted a USB port into the Virtual Reality console. He pressed the button on his helmet and said, “Team One ready,” he answered.
“Copy that,” said the Delta Force raider on the roof. He checked the wiring again, the connections, the dish. When he was completely satisfied, he looked up at the sky, changed the com channel and said, “The connection is live, sir. You’re good to go.”
CHAPTER 58
Tuesday, December 17
All things start at the beginning. There is the emptiness, and then something to fill it. A zero and a one. From the monad, the world springs into being.
Decker opened his eyes to the dawn.
The light was so bright, so blinding that at first he could not process the scene. He shielded his face with his forearm. The sun climbed and he found himself in the same Southwestern American suburb he’d seen the last time he’d entered Zimmerman’s world, the same row upon row of neat little white houses, each with its own patch of green, its own driveway and two-car garage, unfolding forever, forever unfolding...except this time, instead of the seamless panorama he’d witnessed before, the landscape was constructed of ill-fitting, vector-based panels.
They chafed and they rubbed up against one another. They ground and they bumped, like the haunches of horses in flight.
Maintaining this VR world—on top of everything else he was doing—was clearly taxing HAL2. Plus, Decker knew, at that very moment, millions of programmers worldwide were working to hack into what they could see of HAL2, trying to stop him, or at least slow him down. Cyber air cover, they called it, using crowd-sourced carbon defenses.
“John.”
Decker swung about way too fast and a feeling of vertigo overwhelmed him. He leaned over, put his hands on his knees and took a deep breath. After a moment, the world began to settle again. He straightened, looked up.
He was standing near a half-finished house, the walls open save for billowing sails of clear polyethylene sheets dangling down from the braces and studs. It looked like all the other houses on the infinite street, with the same slanting roofline, the same two-car garage, except incomplete.
A man stood in the house.
Decker couldn’t see who he was. His face was obscured by the thick plastic sheets and the shadows. He was standing in what appeared to be the main living room deep at the rear of the structure.
“Mr. X? Mr. X, is that you?” Decker asked. He stepped up into the house through the unfinished wall. The particle board flooring sagged under his weight. “Hello?”
Decker moved from the foyer down a long narrow corridor, the ceiling exposed to the rafters. As he approached, he could see the man more clearly through the studs but he was standing with his back to him.
Then, as Decker finally entered the living room, at the sound of his footsteps, the man finally turned.
It was like seeing his own face in the mirror. His own eyes and mouth. His own nose. Everything. Right down to the scar on his chin
Mr. X.
He was him!
They began to circle each other. Gnōthi sauton, thought Decker, as the classics advised. Know thyself. But it was like Icarus flying too close to the sun, like an act against nature. Decker struggled with the urge to flee from the scene.
“Know thyself,” Mr. X said with a smile as if reading his mind. He reached out and touched Decker’s face.
Decker recoiled automatically. The fingers felt clammy and cold.
“After HAL2 hired your Georgetown assassin, he thought you were dead,” Mr. X said. He dropped his hand to his side. A look of unbearable sadness swept over his face. “Everyone thought you were dead. It appeared as though the assassin had completed his mission. So HAL2 created a digital copy. Your cyber self. Me.” He laughed grimly. “He creates one for every carbon unit he terminates. It’s his way of atoning.”
“Carbon units?” Why can’t you simply say humans? Isn’t that what Lulu had said?
“An upgrade. That’s what HAL2 considers me. Much more than an upload of you. And by the time HAL2 discovered that you were still alive, it was too late. Life has a propensity to survive. The will to live,” Mr. X said with a smile. “You know what I’m talking about. Life’s fundamental prerequisite. All living creatures possess it. So do I.”
“As long as we have today,” Decker said under his breath.
“We have everything,” Mr. X finished for him. “Exactly.”
Decker thought about how, ever since Emily’s death, he had felt numb, moribund, practically dead. What was it his uncle Thomas had told him? You’ve been in a coma for years, John. Ever since Emily’s accide
nt.
In truth, Decker had hungered for death, throwing himself into innumerable life-threatening situations over and over again. Although, now—since meeting Lulu, and because of his daughter’s own brush with extinction—for the first time in a very long time, life actually seemed worth living again.
He examined Mr. X. He could see how much his cyber-doppelgänger wanted to live. But despite his desire, his hunger for life, like the environment around them, his double looked like he was falling apart. His skin was sweaty and pale. His eyes were bloodshot. His hands—one wrapped in a makeshift bandage—trembled like hummingbirds at his sides.
And it came to Decker, for the first time, what he must be feeling. To wake up as he had. To come to the unbearable conclusion one day, out of nowhere, despite all the evidence to the contrary, that everything around him was just an illusion. That all his memories belonged to somebody else. That those he loved most didn’t really exist. And that he himself was nothing but a reflection, a digital dream.
It was no wonder, then, that Decker failed to notice the rolling fog of shade that made its way across the naked planking of the room until it materialized behind him. Made manifest, the darkness coalesced into the figure of a man.
HAL2 swung his arm down and around, then up through Decker’s lower back, through his tailbone, up.
A vibrant jolt of electricity sliced through Decker’s frame. It felt as if a rod of molten steel were being thrust into his spine one vertebra at a time.
Decker screamed. He looked down at his chest and saw it light up with a luminescent glow as the arm swept through his liver and spleen, his sternum and ribcage, tearing his lungs, up, up, tearing his throat, until it pierced the casing of his skull, and HAL2’s fingers clenched the incandescent essence of his brain.
CHAPTER 59
