Podric Moon and the Corsican Tyrant

by Barney Broom

  “The wrist’s not a problem. A chip can be positioned under the skin quite easily.”

  Archie had a swig of beer.

  “What about the eye?”

  “Longer term a retinal implant, but for the moment it would have to be external. I’m thinking of something that fits in the ear, but can also be activated optically.”

  “An aural and visual experience.”

  Having a sip of ale, Podric looked at Archie.

  “Yeah – existing within the adventure.”

  “You really think it’s possible?”

  “You got off on Outside-in. Full immersion’s got to be the next stage.”

  “Why the wrist then? Couldn’t it be control-activated with a touch to the head?”

  “Potentially. But one step at a time.”

  Putting down his beer, Podric stood up and acted out his concept.

  “I’m thinking the right index finger positioned over the chipped left wrist to activate. A person’s print being unique, it would be a perfect sync-up.”

  “And getting out?”

  “Got to get in first, but working on an exit strategy, that would be another code.”

  “Crudely then, one in, two out!”

  Podric laughed.

  “Something like that.”

  Finishing his can, Archie reached over to the counter and took another.

  “All this is making me thirsty.” Ripping the tag, Archie had a long pull.

  “I’m beginning to see why you want this. The way I feel sometimes, an alternate life definitely has appeal…”

  ***

  Whilst Podric was preoccupied working on Agrolution and his alternative reality concept, he had been unaware of other difficulties Archie was experiencing. Worried about Cosima, the day Podric was being collected for his evening meeting with Pasaro, Archie received an early morning call from Davina Petrovna, the wealthy mother of one of his daughter’s school friends, demanding he come and collect his wayward offspring. The Russian’s house was in Holland Park, only a mile or two away from Pasaro’s West London offices.

  “I tried to get hold of her mother, but Lady Charlotte’s out of the country. That girl of yours is quite beyond control. After you’ve collected Cosima, I’m forbidding Arachine from seeing her again.” The call perfunctorily terminated. Archie had little choice but to head up the road to London and fetch his daughter.

  Wednesday at school was a bit of a let-down. Podric and Amy leaving the house as their mother was getting ready for work (she’d just returned to Tweeney’s), Barbara wished him well but didn’t make a big thing of it. Amy was more wackily upbeat having made her brother a card: ‘Revolution, Convolution, Resolution, Evolution, AGROLUTION!’ Touched, and knowing her preoccupation for making up words, Podric asked if she knew what any of them meant.

  “Just the last one, Pod, and that’s going to be a winner!”

  Although he’d only mentioned in passing to Billy that ‘some game stuff was coming up’, news somehow got around that Podric had a big meeting in London that evening. Before long, the school was abuzz with the usual mates’ ribbing – their games champion being ‘multi-million Moon’ and ‘Moon the moneybags’. Passing Catherine Halliday in the corridor, she wished Podric well and asked about his mother.

  “Her paintings look interesting on her website. Do you paint as well?”

  “Not like she does.”

  Catherine smiled.

  “Guess your images are more computer-generated – 3D high-res.”

  For a second Podric looked far away.

  “More than that. Mine are real – or will be.” Finding him increasingly attractive, Podric’s enigmatic character only added to his allure for Catherine.

  As it turned out, in the eyes of his friends, leaving school for his meeting was something of an anti-climax. The car sent by Pasaro wasn’t as exotic as Archie’s Facel Vega, even though it was a Mercedes limousine!

  Earlier in the day, driving his Faciella, the games creator had arrived at the Petrovna house in Holland Park. Electric gates swung open and he parked in the driveway. A male secretary appeared at the front door, followed by Cosima pulling an overhead carry-on case. Seconds later, the door was closed. Father and daughter returned to his car, Archie furious at the insult.

  “What did you do – blow the safe?”

  Sullen, Cosima didn’t reply. Archie started the Faciella and they moved out of the driveway, exit gates opening automatically. Motoring along in silence, it was several minutes before Archie spoke.

  “Good of you to tell me where you were.”

  Looking stoned, Cosima stared out of the car window.

  “Back for long or will I be driving to Zermatt next time?”

  “Shut up.”

  No one else on the planet could speak to Archie in such a way; his face was livid. Passing Pasaro’s office block driving out of London, the computer man’s mind switched to the gravity of the meeting Podric would be having there later that evening.

  “Give me strength.”

  ***

  Considering he was the divisional head of a multi-national conglomerate, the office Fred Schepesi used when in the UK was not overly ostentatious. A chrome and glass affair, it was uncluttered and bordered on sparse. Two large sofas were separated by a low coffee table, and the only personal items in the room were several photographs positioned on a cabinet behind Schepesi’s desk. Of these, one featured the CEO with Podric Moon proudly holding his award.

  “Here he is, man of the moment.”

  Shown into Fred’s office, Podric was still wearing his school sweatshirt. Physically small, Fred Schepesi more than made up for his lack of stature with a big personality. Taking Podric’s hand, he shook it firmly.

  “How yer doin’, Podric?”

  Podric smiled. There was something about Mr. Schepesi he couldn’t help but like.

  “Look, I, er… don’t want to say too much, but I heard about your dad – tragic.”

  Schepesi appeared genuinely saddened.

  “I can only add if there’s anything, anything we can do at all – help in any way – you’ve only to ask.”

  Podric refrained from saying ‘take the game’, but thanking Schepesi, smiled.

  “So whattaya got, fella?”

  Unslinging his backpack, Podric sat down.

  “It’s called Agrolution. It… er, it’s about street gang violence, but when you win you get out of it and go to a magical place that lets you travel through time and space to anywhere you want to be. That’s the reward.”

  “So yer get out of hell and go to heaven, huh?”

  “And it’s difficult.”

  Schepesi chuckled.

  “’Say that again!”

  Schepesi looked at Podric.

  “The NDA from…”

  Schepesi adjusted a couple of papers on his desk.

  “Some outfit – Limmerson somebody. Never heard of them, but it’s signed and gone back.”

  Podric knew this, his mother having received such advice from Kaliska Monroe of Limmerson Bart & Co.

  “I gather your company’s called MoonLight; good name. Wish I could persuade you to come and work for us, Podric.”

  “Maybe I will – one day.”

  Schepesi clicked his fingers.

  “You know what a lousy player I am. There’s a young guy I’m in town with. One of our chief developers on the coast. Mind if I bring him in?”

  Podric shook his head and opening his bag, took out the travel Xbox Pasaro had made him, along with its handset. Schepesi flicked a phone switch on the table.

  “Kelly, have Michael come in, would you?”

  Michael Allardyce was the classic Californian cyberpunk. Crew-necked sweater, jeans and round ‘Lennon’ shaped glasses; his manner towards Schepes
i was confident, but not arrogant. After introducing Podric, Pasaro’s Chief Executive excused himself and left them to it. Michael and Podric began talking computer speak. During the course of their dialogue, the American wifi’d the game to a large monitor.

  The action began. Playing Agrolution, Michael Allardyce quickly pushed its challenges to tougher levels, his facial muscles hardly moving as his fingers operated the controls. Occasionally, Michael fired a question at Podric who would look up from a Pasaro games magazine and reply with equal taciturnity. Michael finally put down the handset.

  “I really like the ‘leap’ move. Cool. You know it was my game you broke?”

  “Um. No.”

  “That’s why Fred wanted me to try this.”

  He got up and left Podric reading his magazine. A short while later Schepesi reappeared.

  “Let’s go get something to eat before we run you back.”

  Outside by the lift, the two stood waiting.

  “Guess I’ll have my people talk to your people.”

  Fred Schepesi smiled.

  “I was thinking – the Light in your company name. I knew a guy called Archie Light once – not well, he was an arrogant SOB. Pretty successful in the business though, wrote some good stuff, but we never worked with him. A Secorni man through and through. Gather he recently fell out with them.”

  The lift arrived.

  “MoonLight and Agrolution. Maybe you might just start one.”

  10

  The Culprit

  On a wet, miserable evening several nights later, Podric and Archie were sitting in Archie’s laboratory. The doctor was preparing a G-Byte gun to implant microchips into their wrists. The chips were about half the size of a grain of rice and would be barely visible when inserted below the skin.

  “Alright?”

  Relaxed, Podric nodded. Archie fired the pellet into the boy’s left wrist. Taking another chip and reloading the gun, the games creator began to prep himself, sterilising the area of epidermis he would shoot into.

  “Want a hand?”

  “Ha! Very funny. No thanks. Don’t want you waving any sharp pointy objects at me!”

  “This earpiece eye connection is interesting.”

  Podric looked at the minute hearing aid-like device Archie had been working on.

  “You won’t see it. It’ll sit right in the ear.”

  Archie fired the gun into his wrist, then placed a piece of cotton wool over the tiny mark the insertion had left, holding it there for several seconds.

  “The connecting pulse would sync to the optic nerve so we’ll somehow ‘see’ the game inside ourselves.”

  Archie inspected his handiwork. Now micro-chipped, the tiny object was barely visible.

  “You ever thought about moving matter?”

  “Yeah. I talked to my dad about it just before he was killed. Some Einstein-Rosencrantz.”

  “Bridge. Einstein-Rosen bridge theory.”

  “That’ll be it. But that was never what this is about.”

  “No, you only need to feel transported.”

  “And be a part of it, interact. It’ll create the sensation of an alternative reality – an ultimate alternative reality.”

  “That’s good. Ultimate Alternative Reality – UAR; I like it.”

  The internal house phone rang. Archie picked up the receiver. Listening for several seconds, he turned to Podric.

  “Your mother’s here with the police. Apparently they have some information about your accident.”

  Minutes later, Podric sat with his mother, Sergeant Paxman and PC Leslie Jenner in Alannah’s little study.

  “The analysis we’ve run from the paint sample on your bike plus the available CCTV footage shows a Jaguar of that same colour at the Wendbury Drinkwell intersection just five minutes after the incident.”

  Sergeant Paxman sipped the coffee Alannah had given him.

  “We’ve located the vehicle. It’s recently had some respray work done. The owner’s a Mr. Raymond Sturridge. Mr. Sturridge is currently being interviewed at our regional headquarters.”

  “Is the proof categorical?”

  Barbara sat forward, tense.

  “We believe it’s the car involved.”

  “That’s not what I asked.”

  The two police officers looked at each other briefly.

  “It’s the vehicle alright, Mrs. Moon, but there’s something else.”

  “Go on.”

  Sergeant Paxman cleared his throat.

  “The CCTV footage suggests there was only one person present in the car and that the owner may not have been driving.”

  Neither Barbara nor Podric responded.

  “Right now, we’re getting the image further enhanced, but at current level of examination, the person behind the wheel looks younger, possibly a youth.”

  ***

  On his way to school next day, Podric had difficulty getting his head around the fact that Barney Sturridge might have deliberately ‘borrowed’ his father’s car and driven into him – either to scare him or even worse. The car having been into a paint shop supported the police’s belief that the owner was keen to have any scratches removed from enquiring eyes. Whether Mr. Sturridge had challenged his son privately or had deliberately covered up for him was hard to contemplate.

  “Podric.”

  Preoccupied with his thoughts, Podric turned to see Catherine Halliday.

  “I… heard you got a game deal. That’s amazing.”

  Podric muttered something about it still being in development. Catherine smiled.

  “Wondered if we could meet up sometime? I mean away from school…”

  “Er, yeah.”

  “You don’t play computer games all the time, do you?”

  “Ha! No. I’m doing other stuff right now.”

  “Uhuh?”

  Podric didn’t reply. Catherine had an amused glint in her eye.

  “What – or do you mind me asking?”

  It was Podric’s turn to laugh.

  “Well, it is with computers, but it’s a bit different.”

  “Okay. Will you take time out and meet me on Saturday?”

  Podric nodded.

  “Sure. Great.”

  Miles Willoughby appeared.

  “Podric, you’re wanted in Mr. Dromgoole’s office. The Old Bill are back.”

  Moving away, Podric’s expression didn’t alter. Catherine glanced at Miles.

  “Computer work not getting him into trouble?”

  “It’s Barney the bully. Reckon they’re going to bang him up for what he did to Pod.”

  Catherine looked at Miles quizzically.

  “You know, Podric’s bike accident. It was Barney who hit him. Nicked his dad’s Jag, they reckon.”

  Summoned to the head teacher’s office, rumours already abounded of how Barney had tried to kill Podric using his father’s Jaguar. With the arrival of a police car delivering Sergeant Paxman and a CID officer, excitement around the school was palpable. Shown into a meeting room, Podric sat down opposite the two cops.

  “Hi, Podric.”

  Podric greeted Sergeant Paxman.

  “This is Detective Inspector Richards.”

  “Podric. Great name by the way.”

  DI Richards was in his mid-thirties, clean cut and bright. Although he was the senior officer, he allowed the sergeant to lead.

  “Sorry to take you away from your studies, but there have been some developments. Mr. Sturridge has admitted his car was missing and we’ve established Sturridge junior was driving the vehicle at the time of your accident. Although of legal age, he hasn’t attempted a driving test and had taken the vehicle without permission.”

  Richards took over.

  “I know Sergeant Paxman has interviewed
you previously, but Mr. Sturridge’s admission casts a different light on things. At the very least, he’ll be implicated in a cover-up and his son charged with dangerous driving. We’re here to find out if you wish to press charges?”

  “What would be the point of that?”

  The CID officer gave a slight shrug.

  “If found guilty, Sturridge junior could face a custodial sentence.”

  “You mean go to prison?”

  “If convicted. Right now, he’ll likely be held in remand, and sent to a Young Offenders’ Institution to serve out whatever’s awarded.”

  “If I decide not to press charges?”

  “The police will continue their inquiries. In the light of the evidence, an appropriate decision will be made as to how to proceed.”

  “So it doesn’t make much difference if I do or I don’t.”

  “That’s not quite the case.”

  Richards sat forward.

  “Look Podric, what concerns us are the circumstances surrounding this incident. We know how you were cycling. You weren’t in the middle of the road, which was otherwise clear. A vehicle travelling too fast is one thing, but, though unlikely, we’re not discounting the possible deliberation of the driver’s actions.”

  This thought had been going through Podric’s mind since his last meeting with the sergeant.

  “You mean Barney intended to hit me?”

  Richards nodded.

  “As bizarre as it sounds.”

  The CID officer’s mobile vibrated on the desk. Glancing at it, Richards picked it up.

  “I better take this. Excuse me.”

  Standing, he left the room. Podric and Sergeant Paxman looked at each other.

  “His father’s full of bluster, but Sturridge senior acknowledged his son is something of a lout. It’s like the boy had a vendetta against you. What do you think?”

  “He’s a bully and my dad always told me bullies are really cowards.”

  “That may be so but if this was deliberate, he’s a dangerous one.”

  DI Richards re-entered the room.

  “That’s rum… Sturridge senior has just reported the disappearance of his son. Looks like the lad’s done a runner.”

  This disturbing news had a strange effect on Podric. Whilst not exactly scared, it somehow spurred his motivation, propelling his drive to create what both he and Archie now referred to as UAR: Ultimate Alternative Reality.