by Eric Warren
“None of these have that DOB,” Foley said, screwing up his face. He tapped on his palm furiously, much to his evident consternation. Arista almost smiled but then she realized Jennings was watching her very closely. Keeping an eye on every movement. She couldn’t let her face betray her amusement.
“Goddammit,” Foley said, still tapping away. “Place of birth?”
Arista wanted to say something smart about one of the craters of Mars itself, but she had no idea if people were actually born there or not. Or if they had been forty-five years ago. It was probably better to play it safe. “Chicago,” she said, locking eyes with Jennings. Time to stop playing around. She needed out of here, right now.
Foley huffed. “I’m getting nothing.”
“That’s okay,” Jennings said without taking his eyes off Arista. “Let’s keep going.”
That almost caused her to flinch. What other questions could they have? And how long was this going to take? She’d already given them what they wanted. They had the arm, they could do whatever they wanted to it.
“I’m more interested,” Jennings said, “In what you were talking about when we first picked you up. You mentioned something about another dimension.”
Arista couldn’t let her emotions betray her. The Device registered a spike in her heart rate but she quickly brought it back down, keeping everything level.
“I told you, I’m off my meds. Sometimes I start thinking and seeing things that don’t exist when I don’t have my meds.” The air in the room suddenly felt stuffier. Thicker. She finally broke eye contact with Jennings to inspect the walls and ceiling. Hadn’t it seemed more spacious before?
“Let’s say for a minute that maybe they’re real,” Jennings said. “What might one of those alternate dimensions look like? What might be possible?”
Arista hesitated. “Pretty much anything and everything,” she said. “The possibilities are endless.”
“What the hell are you doing?” Foley asked, having cut off his communication device in his palm.
“Just testing a theory,” Jennings said, standing. “Let’s give her some privacy while we wait on the results of the arm. We can talk some more in a few minutes.”
Arista took a deep breath. “Could I have some water?” she asked. Perspiration had formed on her brow.
“Of course,” Jennings said, holding the door open for Foley who had a confused look on his face. “Back in a minute.” They closed the door and Arista found herself alone in the small room. Which only seemed to be growing smaller by the second. Why was this coming back now? She hadn’t had a problem with confined spaces in weeks. Even when she’d been in that cell back in the colony she hadn’t freaked out.
Where is that water? She moved and flexed her arm. She noticed she did it before too, back before Jessika had made the appendage for her. It was like a nervous tic feeling like she had to move it around. And now it was like she was lesser without it. She could only hope she’d be able to retrieve it at some point. It had become her only connection to her biological mother, who had turned out to be not so bad after all.
The door opened again, and Jennings set a small cup half-filled with water in front of her. “Shouldn’t be but a few more minutes.”
“I know what you’re doing,” Arista said, taking the water and downing it in one gulp. “But if I understand correctly, you have no cause to keep me here. I can just walk out right now if I wish.”
Jennings seemed to flinch, but he didn’t argue the point. “Without your arm?”
“You don’t seem like you’re going to let me keep it anyway. So why don’t I just cut my losses and go?”
He stood there, stone-faced for a moment. “Let me see what I can do,” he finally said, his hard mask dropping. She’d been right. It was obvious he’d put on a show ever since the Specialist had arrived. He was expected to get results. But anyone who told her the name of their favorite interrogation room wasn’t someone who would have much luck at breaking her. And she knew a few things about breaking people.
Jennings turned and left, leaving her alone again. Except this time the room seemed more spacious and airier. Arista took a deep breath and exhaled in relief.
THREE
THE GRASS IS DIRTY. It is full of worms, bugs, and hundreds upon thousands of microscopic organisms that will infiltrate a body and dissolve it from the inside out. If you lay here any longer, you will be eaten alive.
Frees’ thoughts had been torturing for the better part of an hour. And lying here had done nothing but make him focus on this skin suit he was still wearing; the disguise of another man covering his true self. All the pores and…hair. If he wasn’t so low on power he’d shudder.
He still hadn’t managed to get up. But he had re-routed some of his power functions using the new energy drive he’d installed back in the colony. There was no doubt if he hadn’t changed it out he would be dead at this very second. And if Arista was right and this really was another dimension, there might not be a Collective Consciousness here. Which would mean he would be dead for good.
“Trying this again,” he said to no one but himself. He hadn’t moved from his spot in the park, despite over a hundred different people passing him on the nearby trail. He’d seen no further sign of Echo. She had probably figured out David’s gate malfunctioned. Or maybe it was always his intention to send people to another dimension instead of the past. But that would be a pretty stupid thing to keep secret. Frees had heard some of the gunshots hit the control panel. Which meant they might not be able to replicate the dimensional rip on the other side. They might be stuck here for good.
His internal diagnostic confirmed his efficiency hovering around forty-six percent. It was probably the best he could do with what he had. Slowly he sat up, none of the warnings going off like they had last time. If only he had Mitsu and Takai here, they could get these bullets out and have him patched up in no time. He only hoped they were okay. He hadn’t had a chance to contact them before everything happened, and the last he heard were humans had been storming the building.
He confirmed the next portion of his internal instructions and drew his legs up to his chest. There was a small pop as his primary leg servo broke and leaked fluid. That was okay. He could get by on the secondary ones, he’d just have a limp until he could get repairs. There had to be a repair shop around here, this was New York! The city that was supposed to have everything. All he needed to do was find one of the shops and barter his way into some repairs.
Glancing around, Frees wondered how many of these people were machines and how many were human. They weren’t all machines, not unless the technology for imitating humans had improved drastically. Across the running path on the other side sat a children’s playground. Parents stood around watching their children at play and Frees caught sight of a little girl who’d fallen and skinned her knee. Crimson blood formed at the injury but the girl didn’t slow down, only jumped back on the contraption like it had never happened.
Definitely not a machine. A machine would have been programmed to return to the parent unit for repairs. And they wouldn’t have been bleeding.
Final step of the plan: stand up. Frees slowly leaned forward, putting all his weight on his legs and pushed up from beneath him. It wasn’t a matter of strength, but of making sure nothing else ruptured in the process. Those four bullets had compromised some essential systems and re-routing the power and the systems had taken much longer than he’d wanted.
As he reached full extension, Frees made sure he was stable before trying to walk out of the park. The tall buildings were off to the south, so that was where he would begin his search. Once his repairs were complete, then he could start searching for Echo. The police said Arista would be available after eight a.m. tomorrow morning, so that gave him fifteen hours to find Echo, capture her, and store her before he could retrieve Arista.
First step forward…stable. He took a second step…also stable, though the servo being out did cause a limp as he’d ex
pected. That was okay. He could live with a limp; it wasn’t like he’d never had one before.
He reached the running path where people jogged by him. Some people were in groups, others running solo and with holo displays showing some kind of program in front of their faces as they ran. Wasn’t that dangerous? But now that he was over here he couldn’t ignore the smell. These were definitely all humans. He hadn’t seen one yet that wasn’t sweating.
Frees slowly made his way down, walking beside the running path until he reached what seemed to be some kind of gathering center. There was a bronze statue in the middle of the area, and everything was tiled with what looked like some marble or stone. Granite benches surrounded the statue on all sides and performed their function. Some people used them as they were intended, as benches to sit. Others to lay down and fall asleep. One kid blew past him on a hovering board and used the bench to perform a trick. Frees approached the strange statue which was of what looked to be a girl, sitting on a mushroom with a variety of characters surrounding her. On a small plaque near the statue were the words:
‘Twas brillig, and the slithy toves did gyre and gimble in the wabe.
“What in the…?” Frees asked, examining the words. It was no language he recognized. This was a strange place indeed. The officers had seemed to speak perfectly good English when they arrested Arista. He shook his head.
He continued down the running path toward the tall buildings, hoping his systems could hold out longer than he expected they would. The people thinned out the closer he got to the main streets. It seemed out here instead of running they used some kind of automatic transport system. People buzzed by him sitting on small devices that must use maglev technology as they were suspended only a foot off the ground, except they were perfectly level. The people occupying them also had screens in front of their faces, but it seemed the devices they rode already knew where to go as they made turns and course-corrections without any noticeable input from the drivers. Frees glanced up. It seemed New York had sky-lanes too, except none of them crossed over the park. They seemed to be confined—much like the ground traffic—to the urban areas only. It was strange, coming out of that serene place into this chaotic one.
Frees made his way up the main street until coming to a cross-walk, which he crossed with a dozen other people both walking and on those transport devices. Once he reached the other side he located the first person he saw who wasn’t in a hurry to go somewhere.
“Hello,” he said to the slender man standing beside the white cart. An umbrella stuck out from the middle of the cart, shielding the man from the sun while the cart itself had all manner of devices and accoutrements Frees didn’t recognize.
The man didn’t reply, only stared right back at Frees.
“Um…I’m looking for a repair shop,” Frees said. “Something that can fix artificial devices.”
The man still didn’t say anything, only glanced at his cart then back at Frees.
“’Twas brillig?” Frees tried, thinking perhaps if it was important enough to inscribe on a statue everyone must know what it meant.
The man cocked an eyebrow at him. “You on lo-boz or something?”
“Low…bows?” Frees asked, not understanding. This place was getting stranger and stranger. “I’m just trying to find somewhere I can get repairs.”
“Like a hospital?” the man asked.
“Sure. A hospital,” Frees conceded, losing patience. “But for machines. A place that can repair damaged machines.”
“What kind of machines?” The man squinted at Frees, studying him. Suddenly he didn’t feel like this man was the best source of information.
“That’s okay. I’ll try somewhere else.” He turned to continue down the street checking his power levels. Thirty-six percent. It would have to do. There had to be a repair shop somewhere. They were on every corner back in Chicago. Even in Osaka it hadn’t been hard to find one.
“Hey,” the man called out. Frees turned back to face him. “Got a couple holes in your jacket.”
Frees only nodded, needing to be done with this man and his lack of helpfulness. He raised his hand in a gesture that said “thanks but no thanks” and turned to continue on.
“Wait a second! Hey, wait, he’s got…he’s got a—”
Frees didn’t hear the rest. He only took off running. It didn’t matter where, he just had to get away. All of his systems screamed at him to stop, but he’d screwed up. The police had grabbed Arista because they’d seen her arm. And he’d just waved at the strange man with his hand that had nearly been blown off when his felp exploded. Now it was little more than a skeleton of fingers wrapped around a massive gaping hole where the lens used to be. And of course, all the skin was gone as well. For whatever reason bionic implants were bad news here, and he’d just made it look like he had one as well.
Frees ducked through the crowd while the man continued to yell after him, but he didn’t leave his cart. A few people looked up and their eyes scanned Frees, but he’d shoved his hand back in his pocket, hiding it from the world.
He managed to stop running, assessing the damage to his systems. The sudden burst of speed had ruptured two more crucial lines and driven two of the bullets even deeper into his back. He had a matter of minutes before his primary ambulatory systems shut down. He needed a repair shop now.
The next door he came to he stumbled inside, bracing himself against the wall. Glancing around, he realized he’d just entered a clothing shop. And if the color and decoration was any indication, it was a clothing shop for young women. A quick scan of the clientele and workers as they all stared at him confirmed his suspicions.
“Repair shop,” he said, trying to keep his voice even. “I need the closest repair shop.”
“What’s a repair shop?” one of the women asked.
“Sir, are you okay?” Another approached him. “Do you need me to call an ambulance?”
“No, I need…I need a shop that can repair artificial lifeforms.”
The woman stepped back, horror painted on her face. She glanced at Frees’ hand which had removed itself from his pocket in order to keep him stable against the wall. “Call the police,” she whispered. “Amy, call the police!”
Frees looked over to a woman who tapped the side of her head. “Yes, I need to report a…a N.O.L. in my shop. Yes. I’m looking at him right now.” She paused. “Just get here quick!”
Pandemonium erupted in the shop. All the patrons began running toward the back, while the woman who’d approached Frees took steps away from him, as if he were brandishing a weapon. “Just…don’t move,” she said. “The police will be here in a minute. They’re going to work everything out. You don’t need to do anything.”
She had her hands up and her eyes were glistening with tears.
“I don’t…understand,” Frees said. “I just need…help.”
“Just stay there,” she said, more forcefully this time. Finally, she lost her composure and ran toward the back with the others, all of them disappearing through a door at the far end of the room.
Frees turned and pushed himself out onto the sidewalk again, stumbling. His power reserves were down to ten percent. Why would the police need to come? He wasn’t sure he liked the implications of all this. The other woman—Amy—had called him an N.O.L. Did that mean what he thought it meant?
It didn’t matter. He needed to get away from this place. He wasn’t going anywhere with the police until he figured out what was going on in this insane place. Gibberish on statues, people running for no reason and now fear at non-organic lifeforms? But it all came back to something that officer had said to Arista when he took her in. He’d mentioned the Artificial Control Act of 2053. Frees had assumed that had meant artificial augmentation at the time. But what if it meant all artificial life instead? What if, in this world, machines were illegal, as the humans were in his?
He dropped to his knees, leaning up against the nearest lamppost. People had started keeping their distance
from him. Had some kind of warning gone out? No one was passing him anymore. No, instead they were all at least fifteen feet away on all sides, watching him like a hawk.
So, this was how it was going to end. After everything he’d been through, he would die in this upside-down universe and Arista would probably never even know. She’d come back for him or sit, stuck in jail wondering where he was.
Just as his power reserves hit two percent, a black vehicle descended from the sky and hovered right beside him. It was large enough to be a van, but had no discernable windows Frees could see. Was this the police? These were the types of vehicles they used here, huh? He almost shrugged. He barely even cared anymore.
A gull-wing access door swung open and two people dressed all in black jumped out, their faces covered. They pressed a small device to his neck and suddenly his body was moving, yet his mind still felt like it was going into stasis. They guided him to the black van and he took a seat inside, his mind barely conscious. As the gull-wing door closed back down Frees suddenly remembered the police vehicle that had picked up Arista had looked nothing like this.
And then he was out.
FOUR
ARISTA HAD BEEN IN THE ROOM FOR AN HOUR and twelve minutes when the door opened again. On multiple occasions she’d had the urge to get up and beat on the door, but she knew they were watching. Best not to do anything that might make them keep her here any longer than necessary. She just had to wait them out. And a little over an hour after Jennings had promised to “do what he could”, both he and Foley returned, without her arm.
“Mrs. Barnes,” Foley began.
She prickled. “Yes.”
“You have been determined to be a significant risk to the island of Manhattan and its residents and visitors. We’re formally placing you under arrest for harboring unknown technology and bringing it into the city limits.”
