Voices in the Stream: Phase 02 (The Eighteenth Shadow)

by Grafton, Jon Lee

  “Explain.”

  “Jeezus. I feel like I’m in psychotherapy. Can I smoke a cigarette in here?”

  “Absolutely not.”

  William smiled halfheartedly, “Okay Joan, tell me. Do you feel like I can do what you and Dax want? Manage the cyborgs? Provide site security?”

  “I do. With exceptional results. Your ability to interact with the cyborgs is unparalleled.”

  “Then why ruin a good thing?”

  “Elaborate.”

  William wiped his eye with the back of his hand, “What was your upbringing like, Joan? As a baby dolphin?”

  “Blissful.”

  “Well, that must have been nice. Right now, I can’t remember most of my childhood, but my gut tells me it was awful, lonesome and sad. Everything I’ve seen in the last hour, this new thing in front of me. Why would I wanna drag the dark sky of the past along with me? I know who I am. I got a new start here in Kansas, I know the science, good from bad, high from low. So many people never get a chance to reset. I have been given this. It’s a damn gift.”

  “Adverse emotions you cannot remember are less likely to impair your experience of future happiness, and thus, the efficacy with which you function improves. Is this your implication?”

  “Something like that…”

  “William Thomas Angevine?”

  “Yes?”

  “AK9CIV units beta through delta are requesting access to you. It is well documented that interaction between domesticated canines and humans lowers stress. Shall I open the blast door?”

  William sat up, “Sure.”

  A faint hum emanated from the far side of aquarium control. SIEGFRIED, FREYA and SNOTRA bounded around the side of Joan’s tank and surrounded William’s chair, licking his hands and nuzzling their heads against his chest. He let a smile turn the corner of his mouth as a loud, mournful howl came from the warehouse, the sound muted by rubcrete.

  “AK9MILalpha wishes to join its pack mates,” said Joan. “As intended by Daxane Julius Abner, his chassis design is too large to gain access to this room.”

  THOR wailed again.

  “Can you patch me through to the com in the warehouse, Joan?”

  “It is done.”

  William spoke to the ceiling, “THOR.” The howling stopped. “Calm down, big fella. I’ll come have another look at you soon.” He touched SNOTRA, “Go keep your brother company.” SNOTRA licked his hand and dashed away.

  “The efficiency response times of the DOGS units has increased another 1.7%. You are the tether. May I resume that portion of my presentation? I have eradicated all personal historical information except for data pertinent to your function at this facility.”

  William did feel a greater sense of calm having the Rottweilers by his boots.

  He looked at SIEGFRIED and FREYA, letting the downcast smile fade, “You all are sweet. Now lay and let Ms. Fish talk.” The cyborgs dropped to the floor and covered his cowboy boots with their paws. He pet FREYA’S head as Joan continued.

  “Fish have neurological networks more similar to sparrows than supercomputers, William Thomas Angevine. While both fish and cetacean based sentients dwell in a liquid hydro-oxygenated atmosphere, the similarities end there.”

  William clicked his tongue, “It’s a joke, Joan.”

  “I do not employ sarcasm as a means of communication. However, the concept of humor is not lost on me. There are correlations between cetacean recreational activities and human levity. Please return your focus to monitor three.”

  William looked at the third monitor on the top right. He clenched his teeth. An undated holograph of his mother filled the holoscreen. She was leaving a diner with a well dressed, hard-jawed man with a shiny bald head whom he did not recognize. The man had dark, olive skin and reminded him of someone famous from the holoflix.

  Joan spoke, “Your mother had a sexual relationship with the individual in this holograph. Do you recognize him?”

  “No,” said William, his expression stern.

  “He does not appear in any known facial recognition database.”

  William looked at the holograph again, “I’m sorry. There’s something familiar about him, but I can’t place it.”

  “During your mother’s brief interaction with this man,” the image of his mother standing beside the bald man on the sidewalk filled all six flatscreens, “a child was conceived and incubated in the calendar year 2069.”

  He responded tersely, “My younger brother. Yeah.”

  Joan was unusually silent for several seconds, then said, “If you will not take emotional offense, I shall inquire how you are already aware of this information?”

  “I’m aware of it, Joan, because my mother used to talk in her sleep when she was passed out drunk on her couch in back of the shop.”

  “I comprehend this. Return your focus to the monitor array and please understand, this is not an exercise designed to invoke negative emotional responses. The purpose of this demonstration is to illustrate the data processing capabilities and function of this facility. I can access and alter information on any person, from any computer network, public or private that utilizes the government provided wireless fiber stream.”

  “That’s crazy.”

  “Despite these technical compliments, I cannot tell you the identity of the man in the holograph with your mother. Nor the present whereabouts of your brother. I cannot tell you his name. I can tell you your mother approved fetal incubation transfer using the pseudonym, Persephone Jane. Does this name hold any significance?”

  “No.”

  All hospital records have been purged since the transfer. The displayed holograph is the only hard evidence I possess that this man and your mother were ever together. Do you find this curious, William Thomas Angevine?”

  William scratched his sideburns with bemusement, “You and Dax like to ask that question, don’t you? Well yes, I find a few things curious, Joan. But I sure as shit don’t know where the kid is. Or who that fella is.”

  “As previously indicated, the purpose of this presentation is not to…”

  “I get it,” he interrupted, “You’re not trying to be a bitch.”

  “Correct. For future reference, a more appropriate derogatory term for a female dolphin would be a cow.”

  “Do you have be so literal?”

  “I am this way for a simple reason.”

  “What is that?”

  “I know no other way.”

  “Fine. Do you mind if I ask a question?”

  “Proceed.”

  “Isn’t Mr. Abner, in addition to running the biggest illegal drug operation I’ve ever heard of, and possessing a small army of fusion attack cyborgs… aren’t you guys violating like a hundred Federal hacking regs?”

  “I am a dolphin, William Thomas Angevine. I am immune to prosecution by the human legal standard. Daxane Julius Abner considers our position to be one of civil disobedience. Unnecessary laws no longer influence his decision making.”

  “Isn’t it a little shady? Poking around in folks’ private information?”

  “There is no poking around. My express purpose is to access, alter and defend network integrity as it pertains to camouflaging the activities of this facility. There is no human law against the possession of a private fusion generator or a quantum computer.”

  William picked his cowboy hat up off the table, popping it back on his head, “You know who has fusion reactors, Joan? Companies like Kansas City Power & Light, Commonwealth Edison in Chicago, De-Sal City in The Gulf of Mexico.”

  “You are correct.”

  “You know who has quantum computers, Joan? The Pentagon, NASA, UN Lunar Control, 9Planet International? The expense of stabilizing a fusion core is what? Like a billion digibucks? Where you guys even keep such a thing? They’re the size of a moon shuttle, right?”

  “William Thomas Angevine, the financial expense associated with establishing a stable fusion core the size of the unit powering this facility is ap
proximately 320 million digidollars. Our reactor is a small Hadassa class system. The physical diameter of the case containing the wormhole is less than one meter. The room containing the complete Hadassa array is adjacent to this one. It is only nine square meters in dimension.”

  “I don’t suppose you’re going to tell me where Mr. Abner gets 320 million digidollars?”

  “You are the tether. The financial details of this facility are not available to you at this time. Your function is to provide security and enhanced control of the DOGS units.”

  “Alright Nemo, then if you can just hack any system, why don’t you just log onto The Bank of North America’s cloud and create all the money we’ll ever need? Bankrupt CNED nationwide and call it a day?”

  “The NAUS Federal Reserve is monitored by a tri-dolphin quantum array in Washington, D.C., to prevent this very hypothetical occurrence: that an individual or conglomerate might attempt to manufacture currency out of thin air. It is beyond even my capabilities. I am able to manipulate financial accounts on a regional level. You call this money laundering. The majority of Daxane Julius Abner’s assets are held in untraceable accounts in undisclosed locales.”

  “Untraceable accounts and undisclosed locales?”

  “You are the tether.”

  “Right. Can I see the fusion array?”

  “The fusion array is now visible on monitor five.”

  William looked up. From the outside, the fusion core looked like a glowing beach ball made of glass, reinforced with a spherical titanalum frame. It sat on a cement pedestal insulated with rubcrete and a single, thick electrical conduit exited the pedestal through the wall leading to the warehouse. Aside from that, the room containing the array was empty.

  “Can I see it in person?” he asked.

  “Stabilized fusion reactions manipulate linear time,” said Joan. “The first synthetic wormholes were created in the calendar year 2012 at Cornell University by bombarding metamaterial with electromagnetic radiation. It was discovered that the key to stable fusion was not the explicit interaction of chemicals, but rather the interaction of chemicals within time. The dubnium oxygen gravotemporal system functions by first establishing a micro-wormhole. A hybrid dubnium/californium 249 target is subsequently bombarded with oxygen 15 ions, creating 2.2 seconds of spontaneous fission. Within a wormhole matrix, the 2.2 second fission reaction is constant, trapped outside the standard continuum, creating infinite localized power. The smallest fusion matrices are installed in DOGS units like the animals laying at your feet. The wormholes within the DOGS units are too minute to manipulate reality outside their insular casings. Only mechanical units or individuals equipped with gravotemporal sensor arrays can detect such minute wormholes. However, standing in a room with a matrix the size of our Hadassa class system will cause temporal psychosis. You are the tether. Such a risk is not acceptable.”

  William yawned, suddenly feeling exhausted, “Joan, sorry darling. You lost me at Cornell University.”

  “I am not a darling.”

  “Right,” William squinted in consideration, reaching down and absentmindedly petting the soft BIOSKIN© fur on SIEGFRIED’S head, “Joan?”

  “Yes, William Thomas Angevine.”

  “You can find anyone, right?”

  “With 99.794% accuracy.”

  “How’s about an old lady friend? Her contact info is encrypted. Maybe just an Ipv7?”

  The response was instant, “William Thomas Angevine, tracking your prior mates does not require my involvement. When not on duty, you may access available public records using the control tablet located on the holodesk in front of your position. At the moment, Daxane Julius Abner is requesting your presence above ground with DOGS units CIVbeta and CIVgamma. You will be issued an external comdot for communication purposes. Your first obligation is to function as the tether. I appreciate your time.”

  “That’s it?”

  “Your assessment of our interaction is correct. Given that you do not wish to examine details of your family history, that is it. As you humans like to say, have a good day.”

  Joan somersaulted out of the interface terminals in a flash of bubbles and disappeared into the cave system at the center of her habitat.

  Fragmented Remains from the Cloud Diary of Daxane Julius Abner – February 7, 2080 1:25 pm – Two Years Eight Months Before Event.

  “…d you shall receive. I am, for lack of a better description, in love. When she wakes, she will be in love as well. Consider myself allured. This was inevitable.

  I am pulled to her like waters to the moon. It is overwhelming. Even as she is unconscious, I can hear the unsettled music of her dreams. I feel like I am going insane. My reclusive behavior has been noticed. Can barely eat. Cannot sleep. Dr. Thompson says she will come out of the coma in six days when the nanobots are finished with the calcium welds on her skull. She has no idea what she is. She must know who her father is? If my hypothesis is correct, this also explains the Coyotes. Particularly if the Coyotes are seeking her for the reasons I believe. Aside from various scholastic and psychiatric reports from her childhood labeling her as narcissistic, precocious, manipulative, promiscuous and borderline, there is no official mention of her true nature – the real why behind her being. There is, alas, no psychological metric for us courtezans, because we are still nothing more th… UNSCHEDULED HARDWARE DESTRUCT / DATA COMPROMISE / INITIATE BACKUP.EXE FOR REINTEGRATION FORMA… LOSS. LOSS. LOS”

  September 11, 2077 3:03 am – Five Years One Month Before Event.

  The barbed wire fence raked Phillip Tramm’s hand, “Ouch!”

  His hunting partner chuckled, “Told you to be careful, dixie. Forget to light your goggles?”

  Tramm picked up his sonic shotgun and stood. The bloody scratch looked like a line of black paint through his night vision HUD.

  “No, dumbass.”

  Oak Hill Cemetery’s fence had done its job. Tramm could feel a thin trickle of blood warming his palm. He jumped as an owl hooted and took flight high above, gliding on hushed wings into the depths of the trees.

  “I told you this was a shitty idea, coming out here at night. I’m glad Mikala stayed home.”

  “Don’t be a dixie,” said Jenks. “Gonzales has bigger balls than you. I wish she was with us. It’s just a fence. It’s gonna be dawn ’bout three hours.”

  “It’s a fence cause now we’re trespassing. Not only that, we’re outside city limits.”

  “So?”

  “So we’re only supposed to bust shiners inside the limits, dumbass. We’re outta police jurisdiction.”

  Jenks was a big man. His body blocked the deer trail as he studied the black forest before them. A few shards of broken moonlight streamed down on the fallen leaves around his boots.

  At last Jenks turned and grinned, “I forgot what a giant dixie you are.”

  “My wife’s gon be pissed if she wakes up and finds me gone.”

  Jenks chuckled, “Then you best learn to put that woman in her place. Just got our GPS course, trail’s right beside the river. It’s gonna take us by the pumpkin farm, then on along past Purple Tree. These new filters oughta tell us if there’s water gettin’ yanked from the Kaw.”

  “That don’t mean we ain’t trespassing.”

  “Dogdamn, Trammy! Trail’s so close to the river it’s practically public property. Come on! We’re CNED!”

  The men began walking. Through his HUD goggles, Tramm could easily see the deer trail before them. The moon overhead looked as bright as the sun where it poked through the canopy. Night insects sang in the trees, and occasionally a possum or squirrel would dart through the underbrush, briefly drawing their attention. An owl hooted again in the distance, a low and primeval noise. The sound caused goosebumps to rise. It was exciting, the prospect of a still bust. For a volunteer CNED agent, finding a solar still would be like winning the lottery!

  They had only been walking for a couple of minutes when Jenks stopped and pointed, “There. You can see the rive
r.”

  Tramm looked over the big man’s shoulder. The Kaw was like a wide, silver ribbon slicing the darkness, brightly illuminated by the moon dangling above its waters. Jenks tucked his shotgun under one arm, pulled out his vaporjoint and took a hit. He passed the e-stick back to Tramm.

  “I don’t want to get too blended,” said Tramm.

  They had just vaped before docking the hovtruck and climbing through the barbed wire.

  “Come on!” bellowed Jenks. “This is what it’s all about! A little night hunt, relax, hit the vape. It’s not like we’re doing anything wr…” The big man pulled his shotgun forward and froze, “What’s that?”

  “What’s what?”

  “Shhh…” said Jenks. “I think we got motion. Can you see ’em?”

  “No.”

  “Switch to infrared.”

  Tramm pushed the e-joint into his back pocket and toggled his HUD glasses to scan on the infrared spectrum. There was someone! A big fellow too, outlined in red and blue .62 kilometers away. Tramm could see the dark outline of a hunting rifle slung over the man’s shoulder when he magnified.

  “Maybe just a farmer?”

  Jenks began advancing.

  He spoke quietly over his shoulder, “What farmer has a rifle on him at three in the morning in the midst of the woods?”

  “Should we ping it?”

  “To who? Sapet? If we hunt on county land, it’s don’t ask don’t tell less you catch something, ’member? Come on, don’t be a dixie. If he gives us any trouble, one shell will knock him out.” Jenks chuckled, “Might break a few bones, but he’ll be down. If there’s somethin’ he’s hiding, we’ll find it too. If there’s nothing, well, shit. We’re CNED.”

  Tramm could see the man just standing in one place, looking out over the river as they drew closer, “What? He’s just standing there?” he whispered.

  “Looks like it. Come on. We get over the next rise he’s gonna see us. You got a round chambered?”

  “Yeah,” said Tramm, suddenly more aware of the weight of his weapon. His hand still hurt from the barbed wire. He again tried to wipe his bloody palm on his pants to get a better grip. “You don’t think we’re gonna need it, do you?”