The Gorgon Effect: Minds of Stone: 1

by Cole Anders

  Simon sat there for quite a while, once the weight of the weapon began to bore itself down on his arm he allowed himself to lower it. The rain felt good as it blew in through the busted-out window. He could smell the twisted carcass that lay before him. But it wasn't real, just a figment of his own mind the absently thought. But then Simon's mind spun like a top at the realization. He had dreamed this whole thing, all of it woven from his own subconscious. Simon focused on his firearm again, he felt himself unable to resist thinking about it. The cold hard lines, the warm muzzle still hissing from the expelled rounds. The grain along the grip, it was like holding a piece of his own will in his hand, make physical.

  “This is unbelievable! This dream is so vivid; it feels like real life.” Simon pinched his arm not exactly knowing what to expect. And to his growing concern, the pinch hurt. He picked up a shard of glass and drew it across his forearm. He could feel his skin lacerate under the razor edge of the glass, and a thin line of escaping blood chased after the trailing edge. It hurt, he'd cut himself deeper than he'd meant too assuming he'd either not feel it or that it might even wake him up. No, he remained firmly planted in the bridge on the RV Hemisphere, his arm now singing with pain.

  “Ok, so I can feel pain in this dream, ooh quite a lot of it actually. I think I maybe should bandage this.” Simon said to himself.

  He got up and looked around for a first aid kit. Finding one mounted above the door, Simon extracted the gauze wrap and bound up his right forearm, the cut wasn’t laying open so he felt just a simple binding to keep blood from dripping everywhere would be enough.

  “So, if I can get hurt here, what exactly is supposed to be able to wake me up then?” Simon thought.

  Simon felt a sudden heft in his pocket, like something had been dropped in. What he retrieved was a full magazine for the pistol, which had just materialized itself in his own front pocket.

  “Ha, that's not exactly subtle brain, I get it.” Simon said aloud.

  He opened the bridge door and slowing made his way out into the raging squall and down the steps.

  “I'm here to learn how to use this gun, and that's what I intend to do!” Simon told himself.

  As Simon descended the stairs he could already tell that both Richter and Jeremy's bodies had been dragged off the side of the deck. While it was possible that they had simply slide off as the storm began, it was unlikely that they had managed to flip over the two-foot lip along the bottom edge. Simon was amused with the fact that his mind would bother is such a minor detail, but this was no ordinary dream, he'd already proven that to himself. The hatch leading into the lower decks swung violently on its hinges still being ajar from when Jeremy first came out onto the deck to investigate Richter's screaming. The clattering bang it made each time it wheeled around to close itself again was deafening, each slam resonating a sour groan out of the bulkhead it was a part of. Keenly aware that he risked getting his hand crushed to pieces if he reached out at the wrong time, Simon counted himself down so that he'd touch the hatch door just as it came to rest during it's open state.

  “One, two; one, two; one, TWO!” Simon found a strong purchase with his hand just as his feet lost their own. The force of the ships listing was enough to pull the door closed again, and bring Simon sliding off his feet with it, fortunately he had managed to not grab the door along the lip but on the locking wheel handle. After a brief struggle with the slippery deck plating, Simon regained his legs and was able to pin the hatch closed and snap the locking wheel shut.

  “It'll be a lot easier to get into the door at the stern, I just wish I didn't have to walk around half to boat out here exposed on the deck.” Simon thought to himself.

  He resisted the urge to radio Lanna, she might be in a situation where staying quiet was keeping her hidden, and he didn't want to potentially disrupt that. Simon could only assume she was thinking the same and not radioing me either. The best option was to quickly and quietly find the others and keep them safe until this whole experience is over with. Simon didn't much care for the fact that he was trapped in what might be a lethally vivid nightmare. And on top of that his own mind had created characters that had all the emotional attachment of longtime friends for him to worry about. It wasn't exactly clear to him what he needed to do or how much longer he needed to be here to wake up. But Simon already felt like he'd been here for months as he could recall detailed memories about the voyage here as well as details about the individuals on the ship. Having two sets of distinct memories was confusing and Simon could tell there was a real risk of losing track of the fact that this ship was the lucid dream, and that the Firewall complex was the reality. Simon shook the fog out of his mind, thinking it best not to preoccupy himself with those details now. He had a goal to complete, one he could hopefully do without getting his head snipped off.

  Simon crept along the outside of the deck towards the rear of the ship, the squall was beginning to pick up steam, rolling the ship harder and harder against the swells. It didn't accrue to Simon that the ship might need to have its heading maintained to keep it pointed into the waves until much later. Simon reached the back corner leading out onto the rear of the ship, and hugged the wall and just barely crept his head forward so he could see the rear hatch. He found the hatch ajar, frozen in place after being bent along the middle. The outside latching mechanism dangled useless from the central wheel, which itself looked like it had been nearly pulled of the door. The door wheel was broken along the top, looking as if bolt cutters had been used to force the latch to release. The deck itself didn't seem to have any other occupants beyond himself, at least at that moment. Simon eased out around the corner trying to listen for any movement hidden behind the clatter of the rain and wind. As he approached the hatch door, he could tell that it would be impossible to get closed again as the frame of the hatch had been bent almost 10 degrees outward like someone had used a pry bar on it. Fortunately, it was seized open wide enough for Simon to pass through. Simon approached the hatch and made one last glance around the deck to make sure there weren't any more of the lobster things coming up behind him.

  The hatch door did give a little he when went to push his way through, but it was going to be impossible to reseal it as the hatch itself was warped beyond being able to form a seal. Not to mention the locking mechanism was completely destroyed. Once inside, Simon could see that whatever had been trying to get through the door had succeeded. The walls and floor were covered in scrape marks, and there were buckets of water trailed down the hall. Simon considered calling out for anyone but just as he drew a breath to yell, the sound of gunfire shattered the air like a hammer blow.

  Simon could feel the metal resonate with the blast of what sounded like a shotgun, a shotgun he didn't know had been on board until now but was grateful to hear it. A sickeningly primal scream echoed up from somewhere down below and was immediately cut off by more gunfire, but not the same shotgun from just a moment ago. If Simon hoped to make any difference in the way things played out, he didn't have much time to spare.

  Dispensing with caution, he bolted down the corridor and wheeled around the first corner leading to the first series of cabins. Simon could see the tail end of one of the lobster abominations hanging out of one of the cabin doors, it was twitching and shifting, as if its front half was in motion. Simon pumped two round into its body instinctively. The creature let out a hiss like a steam pipe and backed itself out of the cabin and into the hallway. Its head, if it could be called that, was slick with red pulpy gore, Simon instantly knew he'd be regretting looking into that cabin room after this thing was dead. The thing hissed and whizzed, sounding a lot like it had asthma, and crawled it way toward Simon. This one had none of the lightning speed of the one in the wheelhouse. Black ichor smeared out behind it, seeping out of the bullet wounds it already had. Simon noticed this one was missing several eyestalks and the right side of its head seemed like it had been crushed by something. Simon emptied the Glock’s magazine into the creature before
it stopped twitching and writhing its way towards him. The stink it gave off was overwhelming. A combination of anti-freeze and rotten fish.

  “Hey, is anyone in there? It's me Simon, I'm coming around the door don't shoot me.” Simon yelled out as he approached the cabin the creature came from. There was no answer.

  Simon swallowed the golf ball in his throat and looked around the corner, inside the cabin were the nearly striped clean bones of what might have been Trevor, but it was difficult to tell from what remained. Simon went to gasp but just as he formed the noise he felt a dull thud on the back of his head. The smell of copper filled his nostrils and his vision fell dim. Simon was vaguely aware of the up-rushing deck just as he lost consciousness.

  8. Return

  Simon had to force his eyes open in the brightly lit training room. A sharp pain crawled across the front of his head and when he looked down he noticed a few drops of dried blood on the table. He sat up and realized he'd fallen forward when he fell asleep and cut his forehead on the upper slide of the pistol he had disassembled in front of him. Several of the smaller pieces had fallen to the floor, seemingly brushed off during his brief sleep.

  “What, ugh, how long was I out?” Simon asked himself.

  “Five hours thirty-seven minutes.” Said Nerva.

  Simon, startled to have his rhetorical question answered said, “O, Nerva, you scared the crap outta me.”

  “Ok.” Retorted Nerva.

  “Where is Lu...” Simon cut himself off mid-sentence as Luke just then came walking into the room.

  “Simon, welcome back to the waking world, how did it go?” Inquired Luke.

  “You me the dream? It was strange, I have all these crystal-clear memories from it, but they feel like memories from within memories if that makes sense. It’s not like trying to remember a dream, it’s almost like remembering a book from years ago. I remember hitting my head on a ship bulkhead. The very end of the dream happened first it seemed, and after that I experienced the rest of it. And just now when I finally came around I found I'd hit my head for real in the same spot, and I feel really sore, that kind of feeling you get after you've tensed your entire body for a long time. It's like I actually lived through all the events I dreamed.” Explained Simon.

  “So, you were on a ship huh? How did it the training go? Did you manage to bring your pistol into it at all?” Continued Luke.

  “I think so, but it wasn't like what I expected, I did have the same gun with me in the dream as I have here, but I only fired it twice and hardly even thought about it. Weapons training wasn't exactly the focus of the dream.”

  “You might be surprised actually. Getting comfortable using a weapon isn't just about dry technical shooting. It's about coming to trust it as tool. A piece of equipment that is an extension of your own hand.” Explained Luke.

  Simon quickly, almost reflectively, reassembled his pistol and got to his feet.

  “I can tell you it was an intense experience. I was on this ship out in the middle of the ocean, and these, well basically these monster lobsters came on board and started killing everyone. I was going about the business of protecting myself and trying to find other people on the ship when I hit my head and woke up.”

  “Ya, how many times did you save your own life with that Glock?” asked Luke.

  “Twice at least, shooting it felt so natural, like I'd been using it for years.”

  “That’s the power of Clarity, it can provide better training than a year at the range, using a firearm in real combat is about confidence, in yourself and in your weapon. There will be plenty of time for fine tuning your skills, but just knowing you can trust yourself with it is enough for now. Come on, let's get something to eat and we'll talk about the mission we'll be going on tomorrow.” Said Luke.

  “Tomorrow? That’s rather sudden don’t you think?” Asked Simon, whipping away the last bit of crusted blood and following Luke out.

  Simon and Luke made their way out of the training room and down to the canteen. Even though it had only been yesterday since Simon had eaten, he felt famished.

  As they entered the Canteen Luke explained, “If you're interested, we can have Nerva formulate a supplement cocktail for you. Think of it as perfectly customized nutrition, there aren't any unnatural steroids or hormones in it. And it's not addictive so you don't have to worry about getting stranded somewhere without it.”

  Simon considered for a moment, “Sure of course, I don't see any reason not to.”

  “Good deal.” Said Luke.

  They approached the dispenser kiosk, which was little more than a touch panel mounted in the wall with a rectangular compartment below it. Displayed on the panel were images of various foods and drinks which could be cycled through with a sweep of the hand. Luke quickly swept through several pages and then selected a BLT and water, Simon slowly cycled through the various pages still overwhelmed by the hundreds of choices.

  “How about this, waffles, eggs and bacon; with mango juice.” Said Simon, smirking.

  “Of course, it’s not actually what it appears to be, Nerva has machinery behind this wall here that kind of prints out what we order a raw nutrient paste, applies the correct flavoring, and then it comes out here. The look and taste are absolutely perfect, the only way to tell they aren’t real is the texture, everything feels like biting into a soft granola bar.”

  The sound of machinery humming to life came from behind the wall and within just a few minutes, an exact replica of a BLT and a steaming plate of waffles, bacon and eggs, along with the water and juice, came out of the rear hatch of the dispensary slot and slide within reach on the small conveyor that ran the length of the terminal.

  “The insects I funneled into my protein collectors are ready gentlemen.” Nerva said curtly, obviously offended by Luke’s dismissal of her cooking’s texture.”

  “You know, I'm surrounded by all this astounding technology, but I think this souped up vending machine is the most amazing thing here.” Simon said as they took their food over to one of the tables and then finally added. “I remember reading somewhere that crickets were a great source of protein, and if Nerva can make them look and smell as good as this, then I’ll eat’em every day.”

  “Ha, don’t worry, you’ll find that it's actually a lot simpler than you realize Simon. The food is composed of specially prepared whey powder, along with soy, seaweed, and other base components. Which is stored in large sterile freezer units which we get as part of the normal delivery for the fake cadet training conducted on the surface. And when you order something, Nerva controls an assembly system of specialized robotic parts to press and shape the raw components into what we have here. Have you ever seen those plastic 3d printers? It’d pretty much the same thing. I'll take you in there sometime, the H.D.R. units are really something, Nerva uses them for maintenance all over the facility, but you normally don't see them because Nerva considers it rude to have them out running around while people are in the room.” Explained Luke.

  “What’s an H.D.R?” Asked Simon, taking a big bite of his waffle.

  “High Dexterity Robot, Nerva has them all…” But Luke was interrupted.

  “I don't just consider it rude Luke, it IS rude. It's the equivalent of walking around in a house coat while guests are around.” Interjected Nerva.

  “Nerva, do you listen to every conversation in the facility?” Asked Simon.

  “Yes.”

  “But what about our privacy then?” Asked Simon dejectedly.

  Luke rounded his eyes and took a bite out of his BLT. He'd had this conversation with Nerva already and knew what was going to happen.

  “You don't have privacy from me Simon. I am your doctor, boss, mother, roommate, friend and stalker all at once with access to a lifetime of compiled personal data and more sensory equipment at my disposal than most countries. I can count the number of eyelash mites you currently have, I know how much you weigh based on the floor sensors you are standing on, and I know the name of your fir
st childhood pet. A Beagle you named Ruffles after the chip. I know more about you than everyone else you'll ever meet combined. But this is also true of everyone here, and many others that aren't, so don't take it personally. And besides, I'm not a gossip.” Nerva quipped.

  “O, well, I guess it's just that you sound so real that I forget that...”

  Nerva abruptly interrupts,

  “I AM real Simon, I'm just as real as you are, so you just watch what you say!”

  “Nerva, wait, that's not what I meant. I mean that, well you’re not human, you sound just like someone talking through an intercom, so I forgot you aren't just that.”

  Simon looked over at Luke for input but all he saw was Luke duck his shoulders and continue to focus on his BLT.

  Nerva responded, but this time with a tone of exasperation.

  “Simon, I guess what you're trying to do is pay me a compliment, ham handed as it was. So, thank you.”

  Simon made a mental note to ask Luke if Nerva's personality was intentional, or if it just developed that way once they were both out of the facility.

  Luke decided this was the best time to interject and get the conversation back to the task at hand.

  “Simon, tomorrow you and I are going out into the field. Nerva has determined that a large bank in Dallas had several of its employees turned into marionettes, a person who has had their behavior modified by a gorgon lamp. Lots of funds are being systematically moved into one account by different employees. Normally what Oculus does is put a suggestion into the account holders mind to ignore the extra money until it reaches a specific point, then an implanted mental command causes them to go in and withdraw the full amount and go home. Where they will either leave the money at a drop location or Oculus agents will simply stage a common break in at the house, stealing the money they didn't even realize was there. It's a brilliant scheme really. It's simple to set up with the use of the lamps, and it can be so gradual that we suspect Nerva misses most of them. She only caught this one because one of our persons of interest happened to go into the lobby of the bank and a one of Nerva's routine check-ins turned up the activity. This one’s been going on for about six months and the target account has over two million dollars in it.”