Oscar turned and ran out of the office. The lights came back on as he crossed the threshold. He looked around. It was just a normal lab. No one else around. Deserted.
He turned and went back into the office, having a wild thought. Reaching over the dead droid, he gripped the cognac bottle it had been reaching for and gave it a pull. It tilted but did not come off the bar. A second later, a section of the wall punched out and slid aside.
Oscar crept into the secret hallway with his revolver at the ready. Rounding a corner, he prepared to shoot. Only he saw nothing, only a light glowing at the far end. He ran toward it and pushed a door open.
Inside, he saw what Greyson was trying to do. Oscar was hardly educated in the mostly theoretical art of FBC conversion, but he had seen a few blueprints, a few mockups. Greyson was on the other side of a sheet of glass, sitting inside a sealed chamber attached to a huge apparatus. He seemed impatient, gesturing wildly as he spoke to someone over a radio inside his chamber. He had something attached to his head. They were already well into the procedure.
There were three doctors on Oscar's side of the glass. They turned toward him, shouting. Oscar was far beyond pity by that point; the doctors were unarmed but Oscar still blasted two of them down, sending them to the afterlife within seconds of entering the room. The third doctor put his face to the wall and said nothing. Running forward, Oscar pressed an intercom button on a console.
"Greyson, can you hear me?" he called.
Lifting his gun again, he fired twice at the glass separating him from the FBC chamber. It did nothing other than turn his bullets to dust. Turning, Greyson saw a fire extinguisher in the wall. He grabbed it and bashed it continuously against the glass to no avail.
On the other side, Greyson watched with a look of mild amusement on his face.
"You're too late," he said, his voice echoing from overhead intercoms. Greyson reached up and tapped his head. "My mind is in here. For now. In a moment it will be in the cloud. I'll be free to be transferred to a cyber body halfway across the country. It was a good try, though! You came closer to killing me than anyone ever has. And that’s saying a lot. For what it’s worth, you should be proud!"
He laughed. The sound made Oscar's skin crawl.
Oscar turned and grabbed the surviving doctor by the collar, pulling him toward the console.
"Stop it!" Oscar growled.
"Stop what?" the doctor whimpered.
"The upload! Cancel it!" Oscar roared.
The doctor licked his lips. "I can't. It can't be canceled. You have to understand, it's—"
Oscar pulled the trigger and the doctor’s head exploded before he could finish his sentence. Smoke rose from the barrel of Oscar’s revolver as he watched the man’s lifeless body topple to the floor.
"That man had a family," Greyson called out, surprisingly upset that Oscar had gunned him down.
"And Catalea had me," Oscar grunted. He picked up a chair and bashed it against the glass with all his might. Again and again, until his shoulders screamed in pain.
"It’s no use. There’s no way you’re going to break that glass," Greyson remarked, as Oscar fell to his knees in defeat.
"You sure about that?!" Lynn's voice suddenly called out from somewhere behind Oscar.
Oscar whipped around to confirm the source of the voice, and there Lynn was, limping into the room with burnt and tattered clothing, with a good quarter of the synthetic flesh on her body torn away. Already the gaps in the skin were covered in a membrane of purplish viscous healing fluid. She didn't look good, not at all, but she was still clinging to life.
Approaching the glass, she pulled in a deep breath of air and punched straight through it, flaying her fist to the metallic bone. She grabbed the glass with a metal fist and pulled until the whole pane buckled and fell inward.
Greyson said nothing. He didn't smile or laugh as Lynn walked up to his pod and tore the door off. His face looked quite blank.
Reaching in, Lynn grabbed the bastard by the neck and lifted him out, tearing wires and leads from his head and spine.
"I saw Catalea," Lynn snarled. "I saw what he did."
“Do it,” Oscar said with a nod.
Lynn twisted her hand. Greyson's neck snapped like a twig. She let him fall to the ground then turned toward Oscar, groaning in pain.
Suddenly, a familiar and chilling laugh echoed from the intercoms.
"Like I said, too late," Greyson's voice said.
Oscar stared at the ceiling, feeling dizzy and defeated. He heard Lynn fall to the floor behind him, too tired to stand.
"I had no choice, you know," Greyson went on, his mind now obviously speaking to them from the cloud. "Honestly though, I should thank you. Sometimes you need a hard deadline to actually get anything done. After you almost killed me after that talk show, I had no choice but to speed up the timetable. The experience left me feeling so… mortal… And I couldn't just allow myself to continue to live like that. To exist in a form that could so easily be destroyed. There's still so much work left to do."
"If you think this is the end of it, you’re kidding yourself, Greyson. I’ll find you, you son-of-a-bitch. I’ll find you if it’s the last thing I ever do," Oscar growled as he pulled himself to his feet and glared at Greyson’s lifeless shell of a body.
"Then perhaps I’ll need to keep you… distracted,” Greyson said curiously.
“What are you talking about?”
“This is about the girl, right? The one on the table?”
“You bet your ass it is,” Oscar grumbled.
“Well, in that case you should know that her consciousness remains intact. Like all the others… As for their bodies… well… you saw the table.”
“Why? Why’d you do it?” Oscar demanded. “Why her?”
“There was something in her head that I needed to make disappear. Something that didn’t belong there.”
“What does that mean? What did you do to her?!” Oscar yelled, but his words fell on deaf ears. DeAndre Greyson was gone. Vanished into the data sphere in an instant.
Oscar and Lynn sat in silence for a long time. Then, at the same time, they realized where they were. What they had done. They had been so wrapped up in trying to stop Greyson, they hadn't thought what their lives would be like if they managed to survive.
"We need to get out of here before the cops show up," Lynn suggested.
"More like the FBI," Oscar said, reaching down to help drag Lynn to her feet.
"We have a couple stops to make before we go," Lynn groaned. "What he said, about those synths and their consciousnesses. I can access his network from here. We should be able to download them all... including Catalea…"
CHAPTER 17
◆◆◆
Sergeant Brooks walked across the lobby of his apartment building, dragging his feet. He wondered how one man could drink so much coffee and still be dog tired. He stepped into an elevator and road it up, massaging his aching neck as he waited for his floor to ping on the panel in front of him. For a moment, he thought of the pleasure house. He could really go for a massage right now. Nothing more than that. It would be an easy night of work for whatever girl he picked. Probably the one with the strongest looking hands.
No, Brooks thought. No chance.
He'd never go back to that place. Not now. Not ever. A stiff drink and a long bath would have to do the trick.
He tapped his keycard against the apartment door and went inside. As he shut the door, he realized he wasn't alone. Reaching for his sidearm, he crept through into the living room.
"Hello, Brooks," Oscar said. He was sitting on the sofa, right at home, a glass of cheap whiskey cradled in his hand.
"Christ, Graves," Brooks sighed, holstering his sidearm. "You scared the hell out of me. I could have shot you, you know that, right?”
“Probably would have missed. You were always a crap shot,” Oscar quipped, before knocking back the rest of his whiskey.
“What the hell are you doing h
ere, Oscar? Do you know how many felonies you’re wanted for?"
"After the second or third one, does it really matter anymore?" Oscar asked.
"I think it does," Brooks replied. "You know I can't help you, Oscar. I can't keep you here. I should be arresting you right now."
"But you won't."
"No, I guess I won't." Brooks sighed again, then grunted as he pulled off his coat and draped it on a chair. "I won’t take you in, Oscar. But I can't let you hide here, either."
Oscar sat forward, setting his glass down. "I'm not here for refuge, Brooks. In fact, I won't be in your hair for very long at all. I just wanted to tell you, I know the truth."
Brooks narrowed his eyes. "What are you talking about?"
"I’m talking about two plus two equaling four,” Oscar said cryptically.
“Get to the point, Oscar. I haven’t got all night,” Brooks grumbled.
“It was you, Brooks. You’re the one who put Greyson on Catalea’s trail,” Oscar revealed.
“And why would I do that?” Brooks protested.
“To save your case against Greyson, why else? After your star witness disappeared you had incriminating synth memories but no synth to tie them to in court. You said yourself that the memories alone were inadmissible without the actual synth who authored them. So you must have offered Catalea something. Money, protection. Who knows? You’re a resourceful guy though. I’m sure you could have found some way to leverage her. So you found a way to stick those memories in her mind with hopes of her becoming your new star witness and no one being the wiser, right?"
Brooks remained silent and Oscar grabbed his whiskey, took another slug, and went on.
"But Catalea must have changed her mind. But not until after the memories were already in her, and she saw what happened to that other girl. She backed out of your deal to try and protect herself. So, what did you do? You leaked her name to Greyson’s camp. Spread a rumor that she was going to testify.
Brook shook his head. "That's a load of bullshit, Oscar. Why would I do any of that? How many whiskeys have you had?"
"Not enough," Oscar grunted. "As for why you did it, that's easy. It was a gamble. You hoped Catalea would realize how much more danger she was in once Greyson got her in the scope. You were hoping she’d come running back to you once the waters got too hot. Worst case scenario, you could catch Greyson's people in the act of trying to kill her. Either way, you used her as bait. You had surveillance on her night and day, didn't you?"
Brooks said nothing.
"But I guess you forgot who you were dealing with," Oscar went on. "DeAndre Greyson may be an asshole, but he isn't stupid. He caught on to your ruse, your surveillance. And that's where the child came in. The infiltrator. The Trojan Horse. He played us pretty good, didn't he? Made us think Catalea was dead. Meanwhile he was torturing her in some underground lab for days… all because of you and your bullshit!"
Brooks stared at his old friend. He knew Oscar Graves well enough to know what this cold, calm tone and the dark look in his eyes meant. Oscar was beyond pissed.
"You here for revenge, Oscar? Is that what this is?" Brooks said, his right hand hanging at his side, dangerously close to his sidearm. The draw would be easy, but what would Brooks do if he missed? The Detective Sergeant knew all too well how lethal his friend Oscar Graves could be when he decided to open certain dark doors within his mind.
Thankfully, Graves started talking again.
"No, Brooks, I’m not gonna kill you. But if you’re thinking about a preemptive shot you should know that the dame I’m working with isn’t as… friendly as I am. If anything happens to me, you might want to consider putting one through your own head afterward. Otherwise you may find yourself with an extra asshole or two if she ever catches up to you.”
"We’re good, Oscar. Wasn’t even thinking about it," Brooks lied.
“Sure you weren’t,” Oscar scoffed as he stood and eyed the door.
“So that’s it?” Brooks asked. “You were just stopping by to let me know you figured it all out?”
"I just wanted you to know that you owe me, Brooks. Big time. Someday I'll be back to collect,” Oscar said, his voice shifting to a menacing tone. “And I also wanted to speak to you face to face to make sure you know not to try any shit like this again. I know you didn't want Catalea hurt, but it went bad. If you're as pro-synth as you claim, don't put another one in danger just so you can get another check mark in your win column. Got it?"
Brooks nodded quickly. "I understand. I'm sorry, Oscar."
"Yeah… I bet you are," Oscar scoffed.
Without another word, he trudged past his oldest friend and left.
CHAPTER 18
◆◆◆
The doors to Lynn's apartment opened and Oscar Graves stepped through with a troubled look plastered across his face. Lynn rose from the sofa and came to greet him.
"How’d it go?" she asked.
"He was angry… a little self-righteous even," Oscar said. "But I think he got the message. I just hope it sticks, you know? He’s an asset for sure right now. Just hope he stays in line. Either way, we should get back to work. I heard a rumor, something about another series of synth disappearances a few hours away from here. Could be related to Greyson. I'd like to look into it. Maybe even bring a few more players onto the field, you know? I know a few guys..."
"So do I," Lynn said. "But I think we already have a third team member who could use your attention right now."
She glanced to her right. Oscar stepped forward to see what she was looking at, and saw a woman in the bedroom. She was standing at the window, staring out at the cityscape.
"I might have had an old cyber body or two lying around," Lynn said with a warm smile.
Oscar swallowed a lump in his throat. "How... how much does she remember?"
Lynn blinked slowly. "Everything."
Oscar nodded. He walked toward the bedroom, feeling as though he was floating.
"Catalea?" he said.
She turned toward him, bashfully. Hoping the new cyber body that she was inhabiting wouldn’t somehow lead to him rejecting her. But the new form didn’t matter to Oscar. One look and he knew. He could instantly tell from the look in her eyes and the smile on her face, that it was her. He had to make doubly sure, so he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her in to a deep kiss. A kiss that would have been over too soon even if it had lasted for a thousand years.
SEEVA
By A. King Bradley
CHAPTER 1
◆◆◆
Los Angeles, California…
– March 14, 2140
Seeva Cavelin timed the passing seconds with a repeating rhythmic flick of her right foot. It was a metronome, perfectly in sync with the unseen, abstract phantom of time.
Fifteen seconds to go.
As her foot continued to flick, Seeva looked around the room. She checked the angle and brightness of the lights, and surveyed her reflection in the mirrors above and behind the camera. She was well lit. The utter and inhuman perfection of her synthetic skin was hidden by a warm yellowish glow that gave it a more organic appearance. It was, of course, warm already. Artificial blood ran through it. A rich and radiant synthetic fluid that was teeming with billions of microscopic nano-machines. Despite the differences between her deep-purplish synth-fluid and the crimson life-blood that flowed within the veins of her organic counterparts, Seeva still felt that she was human. In fact, in her heart of hearts she knew she was... but appearance was everything, especially if you wanted to change the world.
Five seconds…
Seeva quickly looked around the rest of the room. Checking the position of all the equipment. There wasn't much of it, just a dimensional analogger (for approximating her three-dimensional form for those viewers who possessed the proper viewing apparatus), a voice modulator (to roughen up her perfect accent a bit, make it more relatable) as well as a standard broadcast camera (for reaching anyone in the world who saw fit to tune into he
r little broadcast).
Of course, "little" was the wrong word now that she had gone viral. The viewers were already logging on in droves. They would currently be watching a standby screen, a countdown timer. Already the viewership was in six figures, and rapidly climbing. Word of her broadcasts had caught on somehow, like a wildfire. It spread through all major news providers, both synthetic and organic. Just one of those lucky breaks. Most people tried their whole lives for an opportunity like this, and never got them. Seeva knew full well how fortunate she was and she was ready to make the most of it.
Her newfound data sphere stardom meant that she would get many more viewers than usual, but it also meant that the majority of her viewers would be people who, until a few days before, might have never heard of her. Of that group, many would be there just to heckle her, to insult her, to write follow-up articles or do response broadcasts denigrating her every point. Or just insulting her looks or the sound of her voice.
That was par for the course though. Even before the stardom, she had built a dedicated following of over one-hundred and twenty-thousand, and you didn't get a number even ten percent of that without wading through a sea of haters.
Zero seconds…
The broadcast went live. Seeva still had a few seconds as the opening animation played out. She settled in her chair, assuming a posture that was relaxed and open but still professional.
Then she smiled. It was a smile she did not feel. She was consciously aware of all those new sets of eyes, those judgmental faces glowering at her spotless skin and her perfect hair through their screens. She wanted to be excited, but now she only felt anxious. She wasn’t willing to give in to that anxiety. Instead she took those anxious feelings festering in her mind and crushed them down into a tiny ball every bit as massive as a black hole and tucked them inside an imaginary reactor inside her head. Now properly harnessed, it would power her through the next twenty minutes.
Darkside Dreams - The Complete First Series Page 32
