Shift

by Robert Lenz, Jacob Hunter

  "What tipped you off?" he asked slyly.

  "I'm not giving you that satisfaction," I retorted. "What do you want from me?"

  He said nothing and his eyes lost their focus. They shone a bright and violent blue for the briefest of seconds, and then he slumped forward, his muscles relaxed to the point of uselessness. His controller had hard-severed the connection. Had I not caught him, he would have lost a few teeth on the hard plastic headrest in front of me. I leaned him back in his seat, touched the panel to indicate that I wanted to get off the bus, and hopped off as it stopped a good mile and a half away from my typical stop.

  I suddenly recalled the fact that there were a few good bars in this area.

  I flipped on my HUD glasses and pulled up the address of one I’d previously visited. The building was a place of business for holistic medicine, primarily in sales but seemed to have a specialized doctor on staff. I'm betting the doctor had the appropriate clearance that Julio needed, meaning that I needed a sample of his DNA. I checked the time, 7:42 pm. The business reported hours of 9am to 9pm, Monday through Friday. I decided that heading there now would be too early, might be better to wait until closing time so I can get some one on one action with the good doctor. The bar itself was in the basement, a small yellow neon sign indicating its presence off to the side of the building.

  Holistic medicine clinics, or holly-clinics, had been sprouting up constantly for the past ten years. An article leaked from a foreign country had spread on Persistence. It told about the wonders of a newly engineered wonder plant codenamed 'Shift'. I say engineered because it technically was created in a lab. Somebody screwed up a research document and injected a hormone into a newly-created, cross-pollinated plant. Any real engineering went out the window, if you ask me. They named it Shift because in the studies conducted on animals and humans, it seemed to shift the nature of your ailment usually caused by a virus. So if you had a cold, the plant could shift the virus to something beneficial, say a fat burner, or even to a brain chemical like serotonin. It wasn't understood how the plant could do this, and scientists have been trying to decode the process for the better part of five years. What we do know is that the plant worked wonders and, with a few tweaks in the underlying botany, it could target specific illnesses and wipe them out of the patient.

  The plant had odd effects when you didn't have a virus for it to target. It would shift something else in your system. For some, it could shift a disease to into a physical or mental enhancement. For others, it would work in the reverse. The shifted reaction turns out to be incredibly stable, for both the good and bad results. Many extremely healthy persons wound up with an incurable form of cancer or something equally as fatal. In the middle of all of this, there were people that could harness the benefits of Shift without issues or negative reactions. Processes were developed to use the plant in controlled amounts. One could gain a slight benefit from Shift, making tiny, useful, and permanent alterations to their person. They were called Shifters.

  A Shifter was often considered to simply be an above average individual. They had better hearing, better vision, longer endurance, and really just about anything that could benefit from an improvement. When you saw a Shifter, or spoke with one, often you didn't know they dabbled in that sort of thing. They appeared completely normal and acted as such. Some Shifters, however, seemed to have transcended the boring plane that the rest of us inhabited. These Shifters rarely interacted with the normal world. Their body experienced a heavy transformation from the drug. Their mind was altered into a different state of being and their physical features often reacted in a similar fashion; they became an entirely different entity. Interaction with them was minimal, as their perception of the world was different. Their world was not three dimensional. Sound is not just waves of energy. Light truly becomes particles that they can interact with. Touch and feeling lowers to the molecular level.

  Most of these Shifters can exist only within Persistence, hooked up to machines to keep their bodies humming along. Persistence provides a controlled sensory experience, allowing the Shifter to live out their life in a somewhat normal manner. Often, Shifters of this nature would opt to end their life rather than deal with the sensory overload. The more ambulatory Shifters had been known to go on killing rampages because they did not receive the proper treatment that is fully integrating with Persistence.

  Maybe this doctor at the holly-clinic was that type of Shifter. I shivered as I switched off my HUD glasses and headed to the basement watering hole. I could wait another 30 minutes. I wouldn't want to interrupt him. He might kill me just for fun.

  Was I nervous? I must have been. I was sitting at the cracked bar top for nearly 5 minutes, lost in myself. The bartender had come by no less than three times asking me what I wanted, and yet I hadn't even registered his existence. Hell, I couldn’t even remember how I got from the train to the bar.

  He rapped a hoary hand in front of my downturned face, and that got my attention.

  "Order somethin or geddout."

  I hesitated for a moment, then pointed towards his top-shelf scotch. Screw it, I needed something good if I was going to go through with this. He nodded wordlessly and went off to grab a tumbler and the drink, leaving me once again to my own thoughts. What I needed was a plan.

  My drink arrived and he simply said, "That'll be six-fifty," and with that, walked off towards the other end of the bar to watch a small panel showing some kind of talk show. A section of the bar near my drink lit up, and I mindlessly swiped my arm over it, securing the payment.

  I couldn't quite make it out, but it seemed to be one of those where the "guests" were given scripts beforehand, and were supposed to act like complete assholes to the cheers and jeers of the audience. Bonus points were awarded if you went topless. Something like that was worth an extra bit of cash plus a guaranteed return spot.

  I sipped the scotch and felt the soothing burn roll over my tongue and down my throat. It was good, but not the best. Good enough for government work anyway. That made me giggle a bit, since I was going after a government employee. The small bell over the door tinkled as another patron walked in for an afternoon drink. He sat down next to me (why were so many people doing that lately?) and I tried to play it cool by not looking at him.

  The bartender took his order: a Tom Collins, with a jaunty maraschino cherry floating in it. I continued to maintain my false stolidity and peered down into my glass. The newcomer said and did nothing; he simply waited. Once his drink arrived he accepted it and dropped several singles onto the bar top. How quaint. He picked it up, smelled it, then I could feel his eyes upon me.

  "Cheers mate," he said, downing it in a single pull. With that, he appeared he was leaving as quickly as he had arrived. I snuck another glance at him and realized with a shock that it was the very person I had come to see. The patriarch. The doctor.

  His eyes were completely white, no irises at all. It was unsettling to say the least, but that is what Shift-abuse was said to lead to. He grabbed his coat from the rack, slipped on a pair of auto-darkening glasses, flipped me a small salute, and strode out the door.

  I debated going after the doctor, though it seemed he knew I was coming after him. Already, I could see that the how of this knowledge was going to haunt me long into the night. What was odd was the meeting. No words, no reproachful statements; only a short drink and a smile with a cheery wink. It had seemed like he was more interested in helping than hurting my cause.

  After all, he'd just left a glass full of DNA sitting alone right next to me.

  I couldn't believe it. No sneaking around necessary, no needless planning to break into his building and steal a hair follicle. I snagged the glass and headed out the door.

  The sounds and smells of the city were a welcome change to the dirty, smoke-infused, desperate bar. Inside, it had been mostly quiet broken up by the odd jingle coming from the old jukebox, or snatches of whispered conversation.

  It smelled lik
e piss and cigarettes. At least the city smelled a bit livelier. The electrified light rail magnets added just the bright notes that the city needed.

  Once I was done soaking up the city in the afterglow of my good fortune, I headed towards the bus stop with an extra spring in my step. This weight off my shoulders felt excellent and I was still shocked at my good fortune.

  As I rounded the corner, I felt a cold, heavy hand falling on my shoulder, and knew that it had been too good to be true. Snapping my head around, I caught the dead eyes of a Pounder. His grasp felt as though it could easily crush the bones within my shoulder, and I knew there was no getting away from this one. His other hand fell upon my other shoulder, holding me in place. Even without the physical restraint I don't think there was much I could've done. Its gaze held me transfixed.

  Then I noticed something odd. Its eyes sparked a deep, velvety green. Not the blue I was expecting. Something was definitely off here.

  "Quiet my friend, let me help you." I heard from behind me, instantly recognizing the voice as belonging to the patriarch from the bar. I heard rummaging and what sounded like metal bits clinking together, then it stopped. He had obviously found whatever he was looking for.

  "Shh, quiet now," he almost tittered. "Very very quiet."

  Then I felt my body being invaded by a sharp needle. He had stuck me in the side of the neck and it took me a moment to realize he was injecting me with something.

  "Wha.." I tried to stammer, but he again whispered "Shhhh."

  My eyes began to glaze and lose focus. I could feel consciousness slipping away. I’d always had this fear of needles, and being inoculated against my will was doing nothing to help. I can barely handle jacking into Persistence. Colors began to swim in my vision, first red, then violet, to a blinding yellow before finally settling on green. Actually, that dark green that the dead giant had flashed to me moments before.

  "The first taste is always free. Enjoy your Shift to your higher plane." The siren call of Shift-pushers.

  The feel of the needle disappeared and the Pounder released me a heartbeat later. I crumpled to the ground, feeling gravel and shards of broken glass bite into my limp body. With that, my consciousness finally fled, and I passed out, the drug taking my body for a short trip to hell.

  -

  I awoke in my small home, catbot peering at me with empty eyes. Upon meeting her gaze, she purred, nuzzled my face, and then walked off as if perfectly content with my current demeanor. Did I mention I was laying in the middle of my kitchen, completely nude? Obviously this happens all the time as catbot didn't even react. I sighed. I should have gotten a dogbot.

  I sat up and checked my vitals. That is, I verified my pulse and pinched myself. The Shift trip was over. I waved my hands in front of me, my eyes tracking accordingly. My limbs appeared fine and usable. The drug hadn't changed any of my muscle structure that I could tell. I felt the jack on the back of my head. Still there and very cold to the touch. Looks like I didn't jack in to Persistence while on the experience.

  Anybody against the substance Shift will tell you that it is toxic at any level and is often fatal. Any enthusiast of Shift will tell you it is safe as long as you don't overdo it, and naturally each enthusiast has a different opinion on how much is too much. I fell somewhere in the middle. I avoided the drug but didn't have any problems with people using it. I certainly didn't think it was lethal, even at high doses. Although, this was prior to being forcibly injected with it.

  I found the strength to get up and found some clothes. I fell into my office chair, still next to the jack cable. Catbot purred and meowed at me. What happened during the Shift? What changed within me? It was possible nothing had changed, but I guessed that something had to have changed, considering the circumstances. Maybe it augmented my emotional state. I was feeling my anger slip away. I chuckled at that thought. My luck would definitely be that a powerful drug simply makes me a happier person as I actually didn't feel the slightest bit upset at my attacker or the good doctor any longer.

  Deciding Persistence would have the answer, I shoved the cable into my data port and was transferred over to the familiar network vision, still shuddering at that initial penetration. Something was different. I hadn’t arrived were I’d left off and none of my usual indicators came up. Instead, a young woman dressed in low cut, white satin dress greeted me, pale curvy skin oozing sexuality:

  "Hello Mr. Rimer. It has been quite a while since you have been on Persistence," and with that she blew me a kiss and faded out of existence. Or rather she blew Rimer a kiss.

  Apparently, stealing an identity was just that easy.

  Chapter 7

  Huh, so now I’m Rimer. That raises all kinds of interesting questions.

  Well, I was according to Persistence, anyway. The Shift dose had updated my Persistence IDN, somehow changing the necessary genetic markers in my body to make me identical to Rimer. I had to wonder, what the hell else did it do? I shuddered at the thought of some unknown change to my body that could very well be the determent of my existence. I suddenly didn't find the change to my ability to feel anger to be all that funny.

  I stared at the blankness of Persistence. Obviously, I only had his identity, not any of his memory or programs. I wasn't really sure what to do next, now that I was in Persistence with a shiny new identity. I briefly wondered if his credentials transferred to me as well. Now that thought made me smile, and a malicious one at that. I could access anything on Persistence without any blocks or punk kids to stand in my way. My smile faded when a message suddenly appeared in my Persistence view. The sender was listed as 'UNKNOWN'. It was a video file which began to play automatically. I decided if I was to assume Rimer's identity, I might as well view his messages.

  The video depicted a lab environment that showed a full stainless steel room, ceiling included. Several computer terminals were on top of a table that was attached to the wall, the monitors streaming random gibberish on their screen. Stools surrounded the table offering places to sit. A man stood in the middle of room facing the camera with a large cylindrical device in front him. He faced the camera, giving me a good look at the guy. It was the doctor from the bar. The one who’s DNA I was going to swipe. The one that drugged me with Shift and changed my Persistence identity. It seemed pretty obvious to me that this video was meant to be seen by me, and possibly only me.

  There wasn't any audio within the clip, only video. The camera appeared to be motionless, indicating the doctor was filming himself. He must be alone. The doctor also appeared to be saying something as his mouth moved but with the lack of audio, I had no idea what he was saying. After several minutes of what seemed to be an explanation, he fiddled with the device, appearing to activate it. The lights in the lab dimmed slightly as it drew power. The device stood still, little blue lights illuminating the inside. I had thought the unit was solid stainless steel, however I could see the lights on the inside clearly. Large pieces of circuitry could also be made out. Curious, as seeing through stainless steel required specific rays to be emitted at the device. The doctor disappeared for a few seconds before returning with a data link jack. He plugged it in and moved to a terminal.

  A Pounder walked into the scene. As the doctor tapped away at the terminal, the Pounder executed various motions. Running in place, push-ups, punching, kicking, and even hula-hooping. After the demonstration, the Pounder walked off the scene and the doctor pulled the plug from the jack. The clip cut off at this point.

  [WATCH AGAIN?] was the text that floated in front of the video.

  I considered and swiped it away. Flung it away, really. Whoever the good doctor was, he also had the power to hijack artificial minds. Who knows, maybe even real minds. I shuddered to think of his fingers massaging their way through my neurons, controlling me like some sort of marionette.

  No thanks. I figured if I am identified as Rimer, I might as well use it my advantage. I summoned the girl.

  "Yes Mr. Rimer?" she sa
id through a cloud of misty seduction. "How may I help you?"

  I paused, then spoke.

  "How did I die?" I ask slowly.

  "You are a silly bunny Mr. Rimer. You are quite clearly alive." she giggled with a mischievous lilt.

  Strike one. Time to try another tack on this ridiculous interface.

  "I am feeling a bit under the weather. Tell me please, when did I last login?"

  "That would be 3 days ago, from your personal terminal." she replied.

  That left me surprised. I, well Rimer, had been dead for quite some time now. Who was logging in as him, or for that matter, who else had been Shifted as I was?

  "And which personal terminal would that be?" I queried.

  "Why, the one you're using right now, silly!" she replied.