Virtual Immortality

by Matthew S. Cox

  “Shit.”

  He chose a hallway with a dead end and one door.

  In its damaged state, the deck’s breach process slowed to a crawl. Itai strolled around the corner while Joey struggled against the secure barrier behind him. Five code cracker softs ran in tandem, but in cyberspace, the dark cowboy rattled an unmoving doorknob. If the person in the Itai suit just wanted to punt him off the network, they would not have locked him down. Something in the evil stare told him that he was about to be hit with live current into his real brain.

  The formation of blacklight flames around Itai’s hands confirmed his suspicion.

  Joey’s face reddened. Despite knowing it pointless, he kept trying to force his deck to accept a logout. Had he not been a fear junkie, he might have panicked. Out of his inappropriate calm, an idea hit him―something he had never before even considered doing.

  Joey raised the gun towards Itai, causing a few teeth to peek through a faint grin. The blacklight grew into giant flaming spheres that painted the walls purple as Itai drew his hands back to hurl it.

  Joey snapped his arm back to put the barrel under his own chin and fired.

  Itai’s shout of rage at losing his quarry disintegrated into digitized noise. Joey’s point of view fell and tilted right; two black-cored violet fireballs slowed in midair and stopped. Itai’s face froze in time, red and bulging with veins. Sound ceased. The stationary flames and burning anger lingered in his mind’s eye, seared into his visual cortex by a spike of electricity as the input from the deck stopped―lingering on the last second of imagery. Then everything went black.

  Attacking himself had blown out the last critical circuits of his deck. A bricked deck trumped whatever voodoo Itai used to keep him there, and sent his consciousness spiraling back toward reality. He endured a disorienting and painful ride on a kaleidoscopic puke-o-tron, but it was still a far better option than having his brain baked.

  Colors, flavors, and smells swirled around in a massive migraine that took the form of a net of hot wires around his brain. The spiraling tunnel undulated through itself, jerking around in all directions until the endpoint opened into a sea of pale grey―the floor of his apartment. It came in for several close ups, kissing him in the face each time. For some minutes, he floundered on the ground, out of control like a fish on dry land. Foam sizzled through his clenched teeth, a skeleton hand of fire gripped his brain and squeezed, and the taste of copper flooded his mouth and rode up along the back of his throat.

  A sudden flood of bright light filled the room and made Joey’s heart skip a beat. White light was bad―that meant brain damage.

  The wave of emotion chasing that thought broke upon the beach of reality as he felt hands grab him. The light was real.

  “Where is she, scumbag?” A deep voice with the timbre of a weightlifter shouted in his ear.

  He was faintly aware of being slammed into a wall.

  Joey gurgled. “Wa bera ooo?”

  Black silence returned.

  rop by drop, blood leaked from Joey’s nose, falling warm upon his bare chest. The tickle was intolerable, but his arms refused to move to wipe it. His head prickled with sharp burning threads in time with the mental image of black lightning through his cerebellum. If not that, a demon acupuncturist poked red-hot needles into his brain.

  Even breathing hurt, as if the pain in his mind from the virtual ass kicking was not bad enough, his consciousness returned to an ocean of agony all over his body.

  Frigidity in the wall he leaned on seeped into his back, numbing his shoulders. A circular metal drain in the dark grey concrete taunted him with distant burbling. The cold water that saturated him, and most of the room, swirled into its waiting maw. The once-white walls outlined a small room of only four by eight feet. Aside from the drain, only a yellow energy field broke the monotonous drab. It thrummed just beyond two dark blurs at the bottom of his vision that seemed to twitch whenever he tried to move his feet.

  “Ready for round two?” A deep voice came from behind the curtain of light.

  “You know it. This little dirt bag can’t have much left.”

  Joey’s head wobbled around like a ball balanced on a stick. His numb arms refused to move, and each time he tried to sit up, a pain stabbed through his chest as if someone had left a knife embedded in him.

  The yellow field disappeared, darkening the area. Two hulking shadows fell over him. He took in enough detail to recognize blue police uniforms.

  “Which one of you is Hans?” Joey coughed up blood.

  “Very funny.” The closer of the two men lifted him by his shoulders and slammed him into the wall. “Let’s talk about Hayley Roth.”

  Joey’s lack of flailing made him realize his hands were cuffed behind him. That explained why he could not wipe his nose. The pain of the impact made him wheeze.

  “I gotta blow my nose.”

  “Look shitbag, we know you have her. You think you’re going to grab a cop’s kid and get away with it?”

  He punched Joey twice in the gut, causing a bubble of bloody mucous to fall out of his mouth.

  Joey gasped, on his feet only due to the man holding him up. “I didn’t kidnap anyone.”

  The officer flung him to the ground on his chest. The impact knocked the air from his lungs, and sprayed a red smear on the ground. So much pain flooded him that he almost did not notice the boot catch him in the side and flip him onto his back.

  “We could do this all night.”

  Lying in silence, Joey focused on breathing. The two Neanderthals crowded over him, blocking the light.

  He wheezed. “Hey could you lean a little to the left, the light’s in my eye.”

  “You motherf”―The cop on the right went to pound him but the other one grabbed his arm.

  “Hey, hey. We won’t find her if he dies.” They traded stares for a moment.

  The angry one bent down and pulled him standing by his chest hair. Joey’s mouth hung agape in a silent scream until they shoved him into the wall. His feet slid apart and his back dragged along the metal. The impact of ass to ground traveled up his spine and kicked vomit out of his throat.

  “Excuse me.” An educated voice interrupted from the hallway. “Perhaps I can be of assistance?”

  Joey slid over sideways, coughing his airway clear of bile. When the convulsions ceased, he peered with his one open eye at another man in the hallway. His uniform black, he knocked at the door to the cell. Both of the officers turned and saluted him, rigid at his presence.

  “Good evening, Lieutenant.”

  “Sir,” said the other with a salute.

  “We got this, sir.” The larger of the two waved an arm at Joey as he spoke.

  “Do you?” Lieutenant Oliver walked in and looked down at Joey.

  “Yeah. Div 0 doesn’t need to get involved with this shithead.” The smaller cop chimed in. “Nothing psionic about him.”

  Oliver’s hands remained folded behind his back as an amused smirk settled on his face. “Command doesn’t want to take any chances when the child of one of our own has been abducted. He can’t keep secrets from me.”

  “This sick bastard knows where she is. Poor thing is probably terrified if she’s still even alive.” He went to punch Joey but hesitated at Oliver’s raised hand.

  “He knows her, but he’s not responsible for taking her.” The Lieutenant looked at Joey then back at the two huge cops. “Don’t you need to give the prisoner his phone call?”

  Officer Alvin laughed. “Nice one. That shit hasn’t happened for a hundred years. Besides who is this fringer scumbag going to call?”

  Lieutenant Oliver stared deep into Alvin’s eyes, speaking in a slow deliberate tone. His voice rolled off every consonant, over-enunciating each word with painful precision. “Don’t you need to give the prisoner his phone call?” Alvin’s facial expression fell into a dumfounded stare as overwhelming compassion and trust welled up from nowhere.

  “Uhh, yeah… we should give him his p
hone call.” Officer Eddie Alvin turned and walked out of the cell at a zombie’s gait.

  Officer Wilkes glared at Oliver. “Did you just…”

  The lieutenant glanced at him. “I did not want him to make me think he was disregarding an order.”

  Wilkes had a feeling his partner was just the victim of some psionic crap. Witnessing this unassuming man stare at him without a trace of fear flattened him against the wall, his distrust of Division 0 deepening. His wariness of psionics dueled with his anger at feeling impotent; men that small never pushed him around.

  Eddie Alvin returned with a secure NetMini and handed it to Lieutenant Oliver, smiling like a five-year-old boy trying to please his granddad. It was a monitored unit intended for prisoners to use. At Oliver’s instruction, they released Joey from his restraints and handed him the device, after hosing him down again. Lieutenant Oliver shooed the patrol officers into the hallway and stood in the doorway as Joey’s spinning brain tried to remember what the object in his lap was.

  “All due respect, Lieutenant, how can we just let him sit there when a little girl’s life is at risk?”

  Oliver inhaled a long, slow breath. “Officer Alvin, the prisoner’s emotional radiance is not that of a guilty man. In fact”―he raised a curious eyebrow―“he is concerned about her well-being on a level I would more expect from a sibling than a total stranger.”

  “We know it’s this fringer,” shouted Wilkes. “We got evidence.”

  Joey dialed a call from the loaner NetMini, listening to a discussion of how someone had called in a tip that he kidnapped the daughter of a cop with the intent of abusing and killing her. They even sent Joey’s face and address, as well as video of him stuffing a struggling, bound adolescent girl into the trunk of a car.

  Seeing Joey’s conversation end, Oliver looked at him with a knowing smile. “Nice choice. So… tell me what happened?”

  Joey felt distrust melt away, out of his control. A feeling of solace washed over him as he stared at this man in the black uniform. Before a minute passed, the officer in black felt like a long-lost brother that could be trusted with any secret. Without even thinking about it, he rambled on about how he met Hayley and the whole Cleopatra thing. As far as he knew, she was at home now and waiting for a horrible father that had no time for her.

  Lieutenant Oliver listened, nodding his way through it. The two cops shifted, about ten feet back in the hallway like a pair of hungry Dobermans denied their meal.

  The door at the end of the holding area opened with a hiss. Both officers turned and looked at the person that walked in, and blinked.

  “Well, well… If it isn’t Princess Nina.” Officer Alvin folded his arms and smirked at her.

  “Well god damn.” Wilkes chuckled. “Guess you finally decided to come off your medical leave? What happened, they wouldn’t let you milk it any longer?”

  She approached with her hands in the pockets of her coat. “I’m taking custody of your prisoner.”

  They continued snickering.

  “Why don’t you go paint your nails or something before you get hurt?” Wilkes gave her a dismissive wave.

  “We got this. Wouldn’t want you to have to do any actual work until you can get the cushy job.” Alvin pointed, his voice dripped with condescension. “Did you come back to get another partner to kill?”

  The surge of emotion from Nina distracted Oliver from Joey. He jogged over with his hand up. “Everyone calm down.”

  She closed her eyes and her fists creaked. “I’m not going to ask you two shitheads again. Get the fuck out of my way right now.”

  The two men stopped laughing and glanced at each other. Wilkes looked at Nina and realized his head did not tilt down at the usual angle.

  Alvin’s face reddened. “Who the hell you think you’re talking to?” He reached for her shoulder.

  Nina grabbed him by the center of his chest armor and hauled him around once before slamming him into the wall with his feet off the ground. The cinderblocks behind him crunched, and he gasped for breath under his cracking armor.

  Oliver held both hands at her. “Nina, don’t.”

  She stared at Alvin. Her eyes held no trace of fear, no trace of innocence, and no hint that she would hesitate. Her thoughts swam with memories: stuffed in an armor cabinet, duct taped naked in the shower, locked in trash units for hours, having her desk drawers glued shut, tricked into a holding cell to look for evidence only to be locked in it all weekend long, and all manner of other indignities she had suffered at his hands. Each memory pushed him another quarter inch deeper in the wall.

  Her eyes closed as the phrase “another partner to kill” rang through her memory. She pushed him harder into the wall with a snarl. Cinderblocks collapsed with loud pops, sending fragments tumbling to the floor.

  “Nina!” Oliver’s voice chipped at the edge of her attention. “Please…” He kept his mind poised to yank her anger out from under her if he had to.

  Joey slithered out into the corridor, leaving a trail of blood on the ground. When Nina saw the condition he was in, Alvin changed walls. The impact to the other side took out one of his ribs. He had grabbed her arm but could not budge it; no matter how hard he squeezed, she ignored him.

  Lieutenant Oliver put his hand on her shoulder and reached into her mind. Her level of anger ebbed, held at bay from the point where she lost reason. She shifted at his touch, ready to attack, but calmed when she saw who it was. Oliver’s eyes darted back and forth from Nina to Joey. Something else swirled among the rage.

  “Nina, please don’t. I can feel how angry you are; these two aren’t worth it.”

  “You know I could come up with paperwork to justify it.” She glared into Alvin’s eyes. “I finally got that promotion, Eddie, only it wasn’t quite what I wanted.”

  “What?” Alvin coughed.

  “She’s with Division 9 now.” Lieutenant Oliver sent his thoughts into her mind. Joseph shares your feelings. Don’t throw that away on these idiots.

  “Fuckin Nine?” Alvin whimpered, at last realizing the depth of the shit he had just stepped in.

  Wilkes backed away, the change in her height finally made sense.

  Nina turned to Oliver, her angry squint widening into an innocent gaze. His lips had not moved when she heard his voice, but that was not what startled her.

  Wilkes stood paralyzed by the surreal scene of his huge partner held aloft one-armed by a thin woman.

  She turned to gaze at Alvin’s chest. “How does it feel, Alvin?” She locked eyes. “I could do anything I want to you, and you couldn’t do a damn thing to stop me.”

  “Nina…” Oliver put a hand on her shoulder.

  I’m just trying to scare him. She hoped he was listening.

  “What the fuck…” Alvin gurgled.

  “You know, Alvin.” Nina pulled him out of the wall, letting his feet touch floor, and then pulled him down a few inches until they came almost nose to nose. Pieces of cinderblock rolled off him and clattered to the ground. “For two years, you tortured me just for wanting to get into Division 2. I was not as big as you, and I was certainly not a soldier. I never wanted to get in your way. I would have been happy to go right to the tech squad.” She flung him to the ground. “Or fly a desk for two years.”

  Oliver interposed himself between them, for show.

  Nina stared down at him. “You always said that you were Division 1 for life. You said that was the real police work; you wanted to protect people.”

  “Yeah.” Alvin dragged himself back to his feet.

  “How can you say that out of one side of your mouth and then do the things you did to me? You’re lucky that I half believe that line of horseshit you spewed.”

  “You didn’t belong on the force.” Alvin’s tone seemed more genuine. “You’d have gotten us killed, and…” He looked away.

  “And?” she asked, still feeling a bit to blame for Vincent’s death, and expecting him to point out that she had, in fact, caused it. A cy
berganger as augmented as the one they ran into would have shredded them both even in the best of circumstances, and these two meatheads would not have fared much better.

  “None of the guys wanted to see you get yourself fucked up. You were so tiny and cute; like everyone’s kid sister. We wanted you to give up and go home, to be safe. When you didn’t, we stepped up the teasing and… well I guess it got outta hand.”

  Nina had not expected that, and relaxed. “Street patrol wasn’t my idea…”

  Alvin shrugged.

  “Most guys would protect their little sister, not lock her in armor cabinets.” Oliver shook his head at them.

  Nina walked past them over to Joey, and squatted over him. “What happened?”

  “Head on collision with a pair of moose. They think I hurt Hayley.” He tried to laugh but it hurt too much.

  “That’s absurd.” Nina helped him to his feet.

  “Yeah but they don’t know that. It’s no big deal. If I thought I raped the elven year-old daughter of a cop, I’d kick my own ass.”

  “Do you know where she is?”

  “No. Last I saw her, she was at home. I’ve been in cyberspace all day, haven’t even been out of my apartment. Check that brain print thing.” Joey looked at her belt. “Any chance of a stimpak?”

  Oliver tossed him one; Alvin and Wilkes got closer. At the mention of medical care, Alvin popped one of his own Stimpaks and rubbed his side.

  “We got him on video stuffing her into a trunk.” Alvin’s NetMini projected the image of Joey carrying a hogtied, screaming Hayley out into the alley behind her building, and throwing her in the trunk of an unfamiliar car.

  Joey hit himself in the leg with the stimpak and closed his eyes in pain-dampened ecstasy. “Someone must have grabbed her and put my face on it. I don’t own a car.”