“What the hell is a font?” asked Kevin.
Aura scrunched up her nose. “Isn’t that a typeface?”
Tris sighed. “Never mind.” She glanced at Mara and chucked the rifle to her. “Thanks. Help me a little more? Watch these people? Don’t let them leave until it’s safe.”
“Sure.” Mara sat on the console desk, rifle across her lap. “How will I know when it’s safe?”
“Oh… I think you’ll know.” Tris smiled.
Aura started to approach Tris, but froze when she picked up another rifle. Tris ran around and collected the security team’s weapons, piled them up by Mara, and dragged the four unconscious officers into a heap by the corner. The three techs took rifles and stood guard over the officers.
“We’re in so much trouble.” Aura looked down at her shoes. “I guess it doesn’t matter now what we do. Are they gonna put me in Detention too?”
Tris sighed. “I hope when the dust settles, they’ll thank us. A person who’s been weaned on bullshit their whole life gets a taste of truth, the first thing they want to do is spit it out.” She held a stare on the ISF man for a second more before rushing to the console and tapping some buttons. “Mara, watch him… but let him come over here and see this.”
Within the giant window, transparent virtual monitors appeared in hologram. Each the size of a large television screen, they contained images of a grand city. The buildings resembled those outside, mostly silver and white, but stretched dozens of stories tall. Perfect roads formed a regular grid between manicured lawns. Little drones sprayed water on the grass, and people went about their day. Small children played in a park, giggling and racing around.
“This is the sim,” said Tris. “This is what those people are seeing while they sleep.”
“Why are there little kids in there?” asked Aura. “You said they only put us in when we turn eighteen.”
“They’re programs.” Mara flicked a fingernail at the rifle grip. “Some of the kids are simple decoration. A handful are watcher programs… basically ‘cameras.’ Their parents are either virtual, or nonexistent. They help reinforce the illusion.”
“It would seem wrong if there were zero children in a city that big,” said Tris.
“Damn.” Kevin looked among the eight views. “That city looks bigger than some of the prewar metros.”
“Easy to build big when it’s only data.” Tris frowned.
Flying billboards, monitors in storefront windows, and in some spots, plain walls shimmered with television snow for a second before the frazzle-haired face of Doctor Ian Jameson appeared. Tens of thousands of him smiled from all over the city.
“Citizens of the Enclave, your attention if you don’t mind. I am Doctor Ian Jameson. Some of you may remember me from the early days of our society. The reawakening of civilization has not gone as I and the other founders had envisioned. I am speaking to you now regarding a matter of utmost importance. I must tell you that you are stuck in a dream. The world you see around you is not real. You are all asleep in stasis pods, experiencing a collective simulation of a city that does not exist.”
Some of the buildings changed color. Cars broke apart into digitized pixels and faded away. Most of the small children froze like statues and disappeared, as did some of their ‘parents.’
“The Core City is not real.” Doctor Jameson’s visage switched to drone camera footage of the stasis tanks. The view zoomed in close to provide a clear view of faces. In another screen, a wider angle conveyed a sense of the chamber’s vastness. “In a few moments, you will all feel a sudden tiredness come over you. Do not worry. You will fall asleep in the false reality and wake up in the real world. Please understand that what you are presently experiencing is the dream. This is the lie. The Council of Four has been deceiving you for your entire lives. They fear the outside world with no reason. The historical documentaries are fictions used to control you.”
The screens shifted again, showing scenes from pre-war movies overlaid with ‘Historical Documentary’ next to a file number on one side and images of advertising for the movie, publicity stills of the actors, images of the actors from other movies or real life. Shock spread over the people in the sim as individuals they thought had been violent raiders barely surviving the nuclear apocalypse showed up smiling in expensive clothes, at fancy parties, and in a few not-so-flattering photographs.
“These so called historical documentaries were culled from entertainment videos produced before the war of August 2021,” said Doctor Jameson. Thousands of screens throughout the Core City shifted again, showing aerial views of what Kevin recognized as real settlements. “This is the reality of the world as it is now.”
Please don’t let them have footage of Ned. Kevin’s chest tightened.
The drone camera video zoomed in on families in piecemeal dwellings, farming and surviving. Another image showed a bunch of men playing their best guess at basketball, followed by video of settlers swimming in a river. Squealing, happy children hurried to swim away from a tremendously rotund man doing a cannonball jump from a rickety dock.
“Then, there’s this…” Doctor Jameson’s voice grew somber.
The images changed. Infected. Cities teeming with half-alive people moaning and milling about. Enclave drone cameras caught a few glimpses of people failing to flee, overrun by the virus-riddled wretches. A split screen window opened, going back to the image of the settler kids frolicking in the water.
“Believing that the outside world was too contaminated to save, the Council of Four made the decision that everyone not within the Enclave deserved to die, purged from the world so the Enclave could take it back in a supposed pure state. Agent-94 is a perversion of research originally conducted for medical purposes. Our council dropped this virus on the unsuspecting people of the Wildlands… robbing them of reason, filling them with the need to kill, and wiping out hundreds of thousands of innocent survivors for being ‘impure.’”
Doctor Jameson paused the drone camera footage on a small Hispanic boy with a huge grin upon his rounded face as he plunged into the river. “This, citizens of the Enclave, is an ‘impurity’ they believe deserves to die. They believe you are a resource to be frozen and stacked until needed, without a voice in your own destiny. Now is the time for you to stand up for yourselves.”
The face of Doctor Jameson filled in all the viewscreens again, smiling like a benevolent grandfather.
“I was present at the founding of the Enclave so long ago… What we tried to do has been twisted and taken away from us. You do not live in the world we imagined. For that, I am sorry. They killed me for trying to stop them. This face you see now is little more than a digital ghost, an artificial intelligence created by a man who knew his death approached. Although I no longer walk among you, I am not ready to fade into obscurity.”
The false Core City hung in total silence, thousands of people holding their collective breath.
Doctor Jameson’s ghost spread his arms to the side. “I give you back your destiny in hopes that you make better decisions than your so-called leaders.”
All the screens within the sim went black. Seconds later, the people swooned as if taken by a sudden exhaustion, many collapsing where they stood. Outside in the cavern, the pod-tender robots sprang to life, whirring back and forth like gargantuan versions of old printer heads. Hundreds of robotic arms flailed and poked at pods one after the next.
“It’s working,” said Tris, wide-eyed. “It really worked!”
“What’s happening?” asked Aura.
Mara glanced at the console screen, a field of hundreds of green dots. Yellow crept in from the top left corner, spreading from dot to dot. The upper-left dot flashed to a brighter shade of green with a blue border. “Holy shit! All the stasis pods are opening. W-w-what are we going to do? We don’t have the food for that many people. We… don’t have the room for that many people.”
Kevin threw an arm around Tris and grinned at Mara. “Guess you’ll have to
go outside.”
29
Dreams' End
Urgent beeping crept into Kevin’s ears like a microwave oven in another room finishing. The ISF man looked up. Mara and her three fellow techs also stared at the ceiling. Rich moaned and stirred.
Kevin glanced over, frowned, and shot him twice in the chest. After, he reached over with his left hand and pushed his right arm down. “Oops. Sorry. Hate when it does that.”
Aura cringed and covered her ears.
“So I take it someone wasn’t cooking in the break room?” Kevin pulled the mag from the .45 to check it, finding it empty. One left in the chamber. He traded it for a full magazine from his left pocket.
“That’s a general quarters alarm,” said the ISF man. “I’m getting comm traffic. Director Gerhardt herself is ordering the military to move into the city to back up the ISF and enforce an immediate curfew.” He looked from Tris to Kevin. “Seems that speech didn’t only happen in the sim. It went off in the Quar too. It’s a total clusterfuck out there right now. Sounds like half of ’em agree with her”―he gestured at Tris―“and the remaining half are split between jamming their thumbs up their asses in confusion or listening to Gerhardt.”
Aura gasped.
“Sorry.” The ISF man scratched at his head. “Forgot we had a child in here.”
“So where do you stand?” asked Kevin.
The man approached the window. Some of the pods at the top left corner drained, allowing the limp, nude body inside to slump down into the foot end. The clear housing rotated open going from tube to bathtub. A track-mounted robot slid into position by the tank and lifted a fifty-something man out while disconnecting the wire from the jack behind his left ear. It cradled him in its two largest arms. Flashing yellow lights around its rear face turned on, and it glided straight to the floor five stories below, painting the wall with a dancing array of amber.
The ISF officer leaned close to the glass, his face hovered an inch from his reflection. Kevin figured him for about thirty, the neat flattop suggested a by-the-book ‘eager to please’ sort who’d probably wanted to be a cop since he had been old enough to walk. The man made eye contact with Kevin via his reflection. A male voice murmured in the officer’s earpiece.
“Director Whitford just give the military permission to fire on anyone who refuses to obey. I’m with you two. Name’s Jordan.”
Doctor Jameson’s face appeared in a smaller holographic image embedded within the inch-thick observation window. “Tris.”
She looked up from whatever she’d been doing at the controls. “It’s starting.”
“I know. There is a complication. I need you to go to building 32-A. That’s where they store Agent-94 in liquid form. It’s also the drone hangar facility. There is enough mayhem going on at the moment where you should be able to get there without a problem. Especially in that armor. You’ll blend in like ISF.”
“What happened?” asked Tris.
“I’ll explain on the way. Go now. There are three cars outside. Take one.”
The image winked out.
Tris grumbled, gave Kevin an apologetic look, and stormed for the door.
“Wait!” yelled Aura, chasing her. “You’re not gonna really leave me here?”
“No… come on.” Tris didn’t slow.
“Need a hand?” asked Jordan.
Tris looked at Kevin. “You trust him?”
The guy looks sincere. “You know me. I don’t trust anyone, especially strange women who need rides…”
She grumbled and continued for the elevator.
Kevin looked at Jordan. “Come on. Grab a rifle.”
He ran after Tris and Aura to the elevator, where they waited six more seconds for Jordan to catch up. Tris pounded the button as soon as the man ducked inside.
“What happened to those two from upstairs?” asked Kevin.
“Sent them to the infirmary.” Jordan cringed. “Stunners do a number on a person. Usually takes a few hours for everything to work right again.”
Aura stared guilt into the floor.
“It isn’t permanent.” Jordan patted her shoulder. “I’d rather that than be shot in the face.”
The elevator opened behind them, allowing the brain-mushing alarm to triple in volume. Tris sprinted across the empty single-room surface building and out the front door, the girl trailing behind her. Kevin kept his .45 in hand, hoping no one would notice its ‘antique’ status in the confusion.
Outside, screaming people ran in all directions. A few ISF personnel stood like cops attempting to direct traffic for hundreds of rabbits that had been lit on fire. A few men in thicker armor that reminded Kevin of the Hoplite pilot he’d waved at before covering the skirt of his hovercraft with incendiary gel, clubbed and shoved at a pack of civilians in jumpsuits who appeared to be trying to approach a distant five-story building.
The place has gone completely nuts.
Three black boxes sat outside, a vague suggestion of ‘vehicle’ in their design. All had ISF logos, and large hatches opened like awnings on their left side.
“You can go home now.” Tris offered an apologetic smile to Aura. “I’m sorry for scaring you.”
Aura shook her head. “No way. I’m not going anywhere alone. I don’t want to be shot… again. Everyone’s gone crazy.”
“Fine.” Tris ran to the nearest vehicle, which looked about the size of a pre-war van, and headed in the open side. The roof had enough room to where she didn’t have to duck. She hooked a left to the driver’s seat and flopped, attacking the controls before her ass hit the cushion. Aura sprinted after her. Kevin jumped in a second before Jordan. The hatch closed as the console lit up blue. Neutral beige covered everything inside except for the controls and the plain metal floor.
Aura scurried into the passenger seat, so Kevin headed for the bench in the back, flush against the right wall opposite the door he’d entered from. The rear quarter of the cargo area looked like a cage made for people, fortunately empty. Jordan opened a locker-style door on the left side. He pulled out a handgun, which he tossed to Kevin, as well as two boxy magazines full of little orange blocks.
“That old-ass gun of yours won’t work on anyone in armor.” He grinned and sat on the bench right behind the driver seat, facing Kevin.
“Neither will this… but I guess it will blend in more.” He pocketed the .45.
“True, but those rounds have more energy than that old thing. One or two to the chest will still knock the shit outta someone.”
Tris backed into a K turn and jammed the control lever forward. Acceleration knocked Kevin over sideways.
“You know where you’re going?” yelled Kevin.
“Yes. Waypoint,” shouted Tris.
Aura curled up in a ball on the seat, staring over her knees at people outside losing their collective minds. She picked at the rip in her pant leg where a thin strip of snow-white skin showed.
A man’s voice announcing, “Please stay calm and return to your homes,” over a loudspeaker repeatedly passed on the left.
“When in the history of human beings has ‘please stay calm’ ever actually succeeded in calming anyone down?” asked Tris.
“No idea,” muttered Kevin.
“That was a rhetorical question,” said Aura. “She wasn’t expecting anyone to answer her.”
Kevin glared at the partition behind the girl’s head. Smartass.
Doctor Jameson’s face appeared on a six-inch square display screen in the dashboard. “Found you.”
“Dad… can you shut off that damn alarm? It’s making my brain pulse.” Tris let out a sudden ‘eep’ noise before jerking the control stick left, swerving the van hard.
Kevin grabbed the pole to stay in his seat. Aura tumbled into a heap on the floor between the front seats. A woman’s scream shot by outside. She swerved back the other way, tossing Jordan out of the bench seat to stand. The child climbed back into her seat and buckled in.
“Yes, I believe so. The Eden
Protocol is running perfectly. People are waking up and the Enclave will be forced to open its doors to the outside world. The software has already successfully purged all records of the Agent-X program. I’ve also deleted the initial work-ups regarding the beneficial virus. As much a boon as it might have provided if completed, it would’ve been too much of a foundation for someone to rebuild Agent-94.”
“Good call,” yelled Kevin.
“Watch out!” yelled Aura, pointing at the windscreen. She cringed, and looked down. “Don’t crash.”
“Not trying to. This thing isn’t exactly nimble.” Tris grunted as she swerved around another vehicle coming the other way.
Jordan laughed. “These weren’t designed to go past forty miles an hour. You’re doing eighty-five. If you turn while we’re going over thirty, we’ll roll. They’re a little top-heavy.”
“Right…” Tris eased back to sixty and glanced at Dad-AI on the little screen. “So what’s this problem?”
“I am unable to physically purge the existing stockpile of Agent-94. There are control mechanisms in place, which rely on a person opening valves. Fortunately, they did have the foresight to install an emergency flush system to an incinerator, but it requires manual operation.”
Kevin broke out in a sweat. “Whoa… wait you mean we’re going to have to go in there where this shit is sitting around in its pure form? Not little capsules like they drop, but giant fucking vats of it?”
“Yes, that sounds about accurate,” said Doctor Jameson. “There shouldn’t be a risk of exposure. The valve controls are not in an area requiring a clean suit.” He bowed his head. “There is something I must tell you.”
“Oh, wonderful.” Tris squirmed. “Is it something that’s going to make me want to kill someone, or curl up and die where I am?”
“The former I hope.” The old man offered a wan smile. “Nathan has sent a weaponized drone to your settlement. Nederland I believe. Eight capsules of Agent-94.”
“No!” Tris yanked back on the lever, which had the effect of slamming on the brakes.
The Roadhouse Chronicles (Book 3): Dead Man's Number Page 38
