Nick Thacker

by The Dawn (Relics Singularity 1)

  “It’s reassigning me to Houston. ISA, ‘System Facilitator.’ Should be a good gig.”

  He looked at her. She seemed whimsical, almost peaceful. Something about her expression made her surreal. “Good,” he said. “It’ll be a good fit for —“

  “Rand, they don’t need me. I’m a pawn. It’s you. It’s always been you.”

  Her face grew serious, and he had the sudden feeling that he’d just woken up from a nightmare that turned out to be better off than the reality his mind was trying to escape.

  She knew.

  “Wait…” he didn’t know what to say. “You — you know?”

  “How’d you do it, Rand?”

  He shook his head, a blank expression on his face.

  “Rand, come on. How’d you do it? An entire city? At the same time?” And then, after a moment of hesitation, “It’s going to make you a Relic.”

  “I know. All of it?” He remembered what she’d said about his upcoming scraping. He hadn’t thought it would be that bad — at worst, the last few years at Vericorp.

  “Yeah, that’s the note I saw anyway. You were the key, Rand, and you knew it. Dammit, you knew it the entire time, and now… That’s why I wanted to come, before you… left.” She let the word hang in the air. He wasn’t sure if she meant ‘left the city’ or ‘left’ as in ‘scraped.’ It didn’t matter.

  She knew.

  “It’s okay, really.” He tried to make the words sound confident, but it was all happening too fast. He thought about the first time he tried activating the device. “I — I have a plan,” was all he could muster.

  She nodded. “I figured as much. From the beginning, you knew, huh? I always wondered about it — more ‘what if,’ really. But you. Smartest one who’s ever walked through those doors. At least in the last ten years or so. You knew, didn’t you?”

  “Yeah, I knew. Guessed, really. But then I figured it was why the System moved me out here in the sticks. It still needed me; it needed what I know how to do. But it couldn’t let me get too close, either.”

  He didn’t tell her the rest. About the device, or about its allowing access to the System’s database — without a static address for the unit.

  "It’s moving slowly — too slowly, or slower than I thought it would. Why?”

  Rand stood there for a moment weighing his options. He could come clean, or he could keep up the game for bit longer. It wouldn’t matter, really. She knew already; he’d underestimated her. Drastically. He realized it as soon as she’d asked the exact same question he’d been wrestling with for the past year.

  Why? Why is it moving so slowly?

  “Wouldn’t you?” he responded.

  Felicia Davies stared at him for a long time until he got a little uncomfortable. Finally, she turned on a single heel and opened the door and let herself out.

  “Goodbye, Rand.”

  MYERS

  THEY’D BEEN TRICKED. MYERS AND Solomon Merrick had been focusing on the direct threat — the handful of shooters approaching them from the distance — so they didn’t notice the two Tracers and the small army of men flanking them along the city’s gate.

  The two groups were a ragtag bunch of men, each wearing whatever clothes they could find that day — or month — and holding any number of strange-looking weapons. Most had guns and rifles, though Myers thought he could see an axe or two glinting the sun’s light toward his eyes.

  “Merrick, what are we going to —“

  “Shut up and get inside the concrete barrier when I yell. I’m going to fire a few warning shots, then we’ll both run inside. Stay behind the barrier and keep moving along the wall once we’re in the city.”

  “Got it. Ready.” Myers felt like the words were more for his own confidence than in portraying information to Merrick. He tensed, waiting for something to happen. From what he could see, there was really only one thing that could happen. The two groups of men would lump together into one larger group, then they’d start firing on them. Myers would likely be ripped to shreds, die a slow, horrible —

  “Now!” Merrick screamed as he opened fire. The long-range rifle wasn’t much of a competition against the closer-range assault rifles that could fire a short burst of bullets with on trigger pull, but Merrick’s plan seemed to work well enough. Myers turned and ran as fast as possible toward the moving barrier wall, only noticing the reaction of the group of men out of the corner of his eye. A few men fell to the ground when Merrick’s gun went off, anticipating a firefight, while the others simply turned and covered their heads. Myers thought he saw one man fall backwards as if he’d been hit.

  Myers reached the concrete barrier just as the men regrouped and began returning heavy fire on their location. The people from inside Umutsuz — the families, couples, and single men and women clogging up the street — reached the barrier as well. They hadn’t seen what was on the other side of the gate, and the first wave of people to reach it panicked as the guns started firing.

  Merrick was behind Myers by a few steps, and Myers turned back to wait for him. Two steps away from the edge of the barrier and into the safety of the thick concrete wall, Myers saw two rounds rip into Merrick’s side.

  Merrick flew sideways, into the swarming crowd of people, and fell. The crowd was in full-on chaos mode, and Myers watched helplessly as Merrick disappeared under their feet.

  “Merrick!” He yelled back, but only a few people even turned to look at him as they tried to flee the scene. Myers pushed through a pile of suitcases and bags and navigated through a set of people standing near the road, trying to get to Merrick. The guns from the men outside Umutsuz began firing again.

  He heard screams — one from a woman and another from a child — and saw out of the corner of his eye three people fall to the ground. He began breathing quickly, short bursts he knew would soon lead to hyperventilating. He forced himself to steady, watching nothing but his feet as he pressed and prodded his way through the jumble of humans.

  And still the guns fired. Do they not know what they’re shooting at? Or do they just not care?

  More screams, more gunfire, and this time he saw an entire family fall to the ground. It was impossible to tell whether or not they’d been hit or were just ducking out of the way. He returned his attention to his feet.

  Merrick was laying on the ground about five feet away, but it might as well have been a mile. Myers was stuck, unable to press between two groups of families that had huddled close together in the middle of the road. He could feel the mass of people moving as one, as if they’d become some sort of unified body. A hive-mind of scared beings, trying to avoid slaughter.

  He yelled and pushed again, harder. One of his hands pushed through, followed by the other. The two people closest to him briefly turned to see what his deal was, but they each did their part and pushed away from him, creating a gap. He squeezed through and ran to Merrick.

  “Merrick — Merrick, are you okay?” He could hardly hear the sound of his own voice over the screaming and steady gunfire, but he yelled again.

  Merrick opened his eyes and blinked a few times. He’d been knocked out when he hit the ground, or from the gunshots.

  The gunshots.

  Myers knelt down and checked the man’s right side for the wounds. There was no blood, but he felt the holes torn in the man’s shirt. He wiggled his finger around inside the man’s shirt, and noticed something hard and thick was covering Merrick’s upper body.

  “It’s body armor,” Merrick said. He lifted his head slightly, trying to look around.

  “We have to get you up and out of here before we get trampled to death,” Myers said.

  Merrick nodded, and Myers helped lift him up. He was heavy, probably a hundred pounds heavier than Myers with his gear and armor on, but together they stood. People coursed around them, trying to push back down the street and away from the open gate and incoming gunmen.

  “This block must have acted like a funnel,” Merrick said, pointing upward. Th
ey were alternating between taking a single step backward and standing still. Myers followed his finger. Indeed, the buildings seemed to converge on this road, narrowing it until the street was only as wide as the open gate.

  People started moving faster as more of the crowd from down the street dispersed.

  “Where are they going?”

  “Finding another exit, probably. The autotrains are probably all full, so they’re just hoping to get out of the city before the last deactivation warning.”

  Myers didn’t like the sound of that. “What happens after the last warning?”

  Merrick looked over at him. “Deactivation.”

  A path cleared, and Merrick didn’t wait around for permission. The gunshots were more sporadic now. They were searching for him, and only firing to get people out of the way. Myers wondered if any of the Unders had reached the city yet, or if they were waiting outside of it for some reason.

  Myers followed Merrick to the next block, then they took a right just after one of the taller buildings. The street was deserted, a surprising change from the street they’d just left. It seemed like a city block that had already been deactivated. Tall buildings stretched overhead and cast the street in shadow, adding to the effect.

  Merrick turned and walked down a narrow alley that was perfectly disguised between two of the buildings. Had he not been with Merrick, Myers would have completely missed the opening. Whoever designed this city really had an eye for function. There was nothing unnecessary about the construction of the buildings, and it created an almost ethereal atmosphere. He felt like he was walking through a movie set — buildings, houses, and other structures shared a common theme and design, yet none were garish or too simplistic to be considered in poor taste.

  The alley was barely wide enough for Merrick’s shoulders to fit through, and even Myers felt a bit constricted as they walked briskly though. At the end of the alley Merrick turned and opened a door. He walked in, not waiting for Myers.

  “Come in,” Merrick said as Myers entered. Merrick was already across the small room, standing over a table and facing the rear wall. It seemed as though the door they’d entered from was the only entrance or exit to the strange room.

  There were no windows, leading Myers to believe that this room was sectioned off from one of the larger buildings surrounding them, with the only access point coming from the alleyway. A dim glow filled the room with an artificial light, giving the place an eery overcast.

  “Over here,” Merrick said. Myers stood next to the man as he worked the computer in front of him. Myers couldn’t keep up — it was like Merrick didn’t have to actually type or press anything; the computer just knew where he was trying to go and went there. Merrick worked the machine as though it were second nature. This man who’d chased him through the desert and a dusty, deserted city, could work a computer faster than anyone Myers had ever met.

  “I’m logged in as my alter-account now. The System is waiting for the transaction, and… let’s see your —“ Merrick stopped.

  “What is it?”

  “You’re currently posting at 107,000.”

  “Is that good?” Myers asked.

  Merrick just stared at the screen. After a few seconds, he shook his head and started typing again. His hands quickly became a blur, and Myers felt himself getting dizzy.

  “I feel like the old guy who doesn’t understand technology,” Myers said. “I’m lightheaded and about to fall over from watching you.”

  “You were also fired on multiple times, dehydrated, and probably starving.”

  Myers realized the truth of Merrick’s diagnosis, and immediately felt the hunger pangs. He’d had a little water back in the church, when Ravi had given him his canteen for the night, but other than than —

  “Let’s get this transaction started and then we can think about getting out of here.” He grabbed Myers’ finger and pressed it on a scanning device.

  “What happens to me after? Once I’ve been, uh, sold?”

  “Right, good question. Basically the System needs one transaction for you to be removed from the Board. You’ll still be a Relic, but no one will be actively hunting you anymore.”

  “Actively?”

  “Well, I mean no one will know you’re still alive. I’m sure if you start hanging out in crowds you’ll get some strange looks from people who recognize you, but unless that crowd is made up of Unders no one’s going to care.”

  “Merrick, what happens to anyone still here after that ‘deactivation protocol’ is finished? Does the System kill them?”

  “No. The System can’t kill anyone. At least not directly. It’s just a computer program, close to human-level intelligence but lacking some very specific features, like creativity, free will, and advanced cognitive function. It’s called Artificial General Intelligence.”

  “So it can only do what it’s been programmed to do?”

  “Exactly,” Merrick said. “And what it’s learned to do from other programs it’s come across. But that means, out here, it’s only going to get ‘confused’ about stragglers.”

  “It won’t be able to tell why we’re still in the city if we’ve already been given our marching orders.”

  “Right. If it’s ordered you to be reassigned, it’s also set up a method of transportation for you, or tracked your movement to know you’re headed to the right place and it’s calculated an arrival time. If you’re supposed to be deactivated, it’ll do that too. But if you’re neither of those things, and you’re waiting around in a previously-deactivated area ignoring the reassignment, it’s like dividing by zero — the computer gets confused because that behavior doesn’t compute.”

  “So…”

  “So you get scraped, and it starts over.”

  Myers swallowed. ‘Scraped,’ I’m assuming, is not good?”

  “Memory wipe. You’re a rogue, so it does the only thing it knows how to do. It ‘scrapes’ your internal memory device and essentially reboots you, taking away any stored memory you have and effectively rendering you dead to the System.”

  Myers nodded. “Right. So let’s not stick around to see that happen.” Myers lifted his finger then placed it back down again after Sol shot him a look.

  Merrick continued maneuvering around the computer station’s screen as he spoke. “Working on it, Myers. Just one more —“

  A ding sounded from somewhere inside the machine’s mass, and Merrick looked up.

  “Transaction complete.” He smiled. “I’m now 107,000 Current richer, and you’re a free man.”

  RAND

  HE DECIDED ON HIS COURSE of action.

  Rand would head to the gate, only three blocks from his current location, and wait for the city to reach full deactivation status, at which point the gate would deactivate and allow him to escape without being scorched by a million volts of electricity.

  In the meantime, he needed to fake his own deactivation.

  He had the device he’d created lying on the desk next to the station. He activated it and prepared himself for the process. The drones would come either way, so it had to work properly the first time. If he flubbed it, it would set off an alert and expedite his upcoming scraping festival. He placed the device in front of him on the desk and opened a secure connection on his computer to the nearest municipal net facility on his station’s browser.

  The municipal site showed exactly what he’d expected — an alert status for his zone, and a lift of zones that had already been deactivated. It listed some help numbers to call in case of emergency, and finally a live feed of videos placed around the city.

  He used “guest access” to log in to a citizen-run section of the site dedicated to peacekeeping operations, and typed in his own pID. In less than a second, he saw a picture of himself staring back at him, listing his date of birth, sex, and current occupation. The AAI clicked a link for him near the bottom of the page.

  Place Watch Order.

  Under normal circumstances, this was the equi
valent of calling emergency services without cause, and would trigger an alarm for authorities to blockade his residence until the situation was resolved. In this case, emergency services was no longer relevant, authorities were busy, and he had “due cause.”

  He clicked a button on the next page: “Request Manual Deactivation.” The one-link form needed proper identification for it to be sent, and Rand placed his thumb into the device and waited. Anyone with a listed pID could use a manual deactivation request as long as it was approved by the System. However, any System-based device could send through the order without any further steps.

  And his device was a hacked version of a System-based device.

  The lights told him his request had been sent, and he watched the screen for confirmation.

  >Data scrape necessary. Confirm?

  >

  He typed a few characters, confirming a full scrape. Yes, asshole, I’ve been scraped.

  >Data scrape confirmed.

  The message printed his unique static address, recognizing that it was part of the System, and Rand leaned back in his chair.

  He had manually placed the order to scrape and deactivate himself, clearing his pID from any watch lists, deactivation notices, and any statuses that would make him a wanted man. As far as the System was concerned, it had deactivated Jonathan Rand and taken most of his memory with it.

  I’m free.

  He had one more task before it was time to leave. Opening a secured communication dialog window, he typed the address of his target recipient. He waited for the information to parse, and less than a second later he was invited to type an outgoing secure message. He set his fingers on the keyboard and silently weighed the risks of what he was about to do.

  He took a deep breath and let it out, closing his eyes and opening them again five seconds later.

  >Deactivating Umutsuz. Need help.

  For about ten seconds, there was no response. He waited, impatiently, at the blinking cursor on the station screen. Finally, he saw a flickering below his initial request and watched as a message appeared.