Shift

by Robert Lenz, Jacob Hunter

  Of course, with genetic engineering, there were bound to be mistakes along the way. These were artifacts of an early attempt. Scientists had fiddled with DNA in the wrong place, splicing in and out flags necessary to give us our essence. A slice here, an addition there, a dab of protein re-folding, and voila! The abominations in front of me were clones of the original. Yes, it had been a failed experiment, but what was created was a pleasant boon to those in power. They created a race of telepathic bodyguards, fiercely loyal to those that owned them. That concept was imprinted on them at the time of their creation, and passed down from father to son, from mother to daughter. Fortunately, they only acted on command, or so it was told. What these things were capable of was only a myth. What I did know was that they were able to somehow tap into the consciousness of others.

  And this man had two of them, an oddity in and of itself. Their featureless, ivory-skinned faces stared at me, chilling me to the bone. They wore identical black cloaks, the contrast of their faces startling. Their hands were buried in pockets deep within their robes, and had I not known what they were, I would have thought them to be pious, though hideously-tall, monks out for a day in the city with their minder.

  But no, I knew that those hands buried within comprised razor sharp talons. When all was said and done, these were killing machines, far more fierce than the exceedingly stupid Pounders and Sharpers I had seen earlier. This...this was bad. Very bad.

  "I see I have your attention already." the man said calmly, stately, regally. He may have been small, but his presence was astounding. I suppose I would project just as well if I had two telepathic killers at my side.

  "We need to talk. You will come with me." Not a suggestion, not a command. It just was. I nodded in complacence, following him as he turned. I could feel their minds reaching into mine, calming me. Playing with my emotions to make me more suggestible. To make me complacent. It was meant to be a subtle attack, but I knew what they were. And so I recognized it for what it was.

  I suppose visiting my old friends would have to wait.

  I was herded into a black town car, windows tinted so harshly that I was amazed to see that any sunlight filtered through at all. While it was not quite a limousine, it was set up as one. The mustachioed stranger sat directly across from me, and the two Faceless flanked me in the leather bench seat, their involuntary touches making me shudder.

  "I apologize for this scare tactic, but it is somewhat necessary. Believe it or not, I am on your side. I may be one of the only friends that you have, but I cannot show this to the world. Such would be...unbecoming of my place." he stated.

  "Then get your two creepshows off of me." I said flatly, trying to hide the nervous edge in my voice. Their emotional-soothing wasn't fully working it seemed.

  "They are there as much for your protection as mine." he replied. "They are certainly trying to make you more at peace, we wouldn't want you doing something hasty."

  "Enough with the cloak and dagger bullshit." I said. "What do you want with me?"

  "Let me tell you a story. Trust me when I say that I am not a fan of long conversations, so I will say my piece then leave you by the roadside, at the destination of your choosing. As you can see, in this vehicle, we have complete privacy." he waved towards the front, and I noticed that there was no driver. Ah, an autonomous vehicle.

  His pronunciation of privacy, "priv-a-cee," really grated on my nerves. This guy was affecting the tone of the higher class, but I don't think he was born to it. He was too slimy.

  "Now, here is the deal. You have been poking around on Persistence, looking for information that many deem to be worth killing you for. I can see from your, ahem, condition, that you have had a run-in or two with those aforementioned persons. As you can see, I have not mistreated you physically, nor have I had my friends here directly attack your consciousness. I hope you take that into account in your consideration of me." he paused, taking a swallow of bottled water. Where had that come from, anyway?

  "Hmm, yes. So to the point. There are those that think that they are in control of Persistence. They use our resources to send their goons around town and run a low-grade Mafia. Hits on the appropriate people, soaking up credits from shopkeeps who can't deal with their scare tactics. It's somewhat like the Mob from years past, however now their methods are different. They use those lifeless husks the locals call, er, Pounders," (what is this guy's deal?) "and use those to intimidate. For the jobs that require a bit more intelligence, they send those skilled with the knife. All of these are indirectly controlled by the person known as Rimer."

  A pause again, another swallow.

  "Rimer was once considered a revolutionary by most. Rimer is no friend to the downtrodden anymore, he has lined his pockets with ill-gotten gains, and by doing so, has gained more power than any had thought possible. He now has enough influence that he could challenge nearly any military force, with his tentacles wrapping around the dark side of Persistence, and his blue-eyed army wandering the streets. Needless to say, friend, this man is a menace."

  He took a long swallow that drained the bottle. He wiped off the beads of water stuck to his mustache.

  "This is where I need your help. You have been the only one to make contact with him in the past several years. We, I, need you to make contact again. This will be difficult for you and you will not have any direct support. However, we will have agents ready to assist once the proverbial, erm, shit hits the fan. And, you will be well rewarded for your assistance."

  Suave, very suave, and persuasive. Or was that coming from the two freaks bookending me?

  "You look skeptical." he stated flatly, his puffed-up chest slightly deflating.

  "Two things I don't understand. One, who exactly are you again?" I asked.

  "I'm attached to the government. I deal with problems that do not necessarily need to be cataloged for public perusal. I clean up messes. Rimer, he has made a mess."

  He. Again, he said ‘he’. They really had no clue, no fucking clue, about Rimer at all. The last I knew, Rimer had been a she.

  "And what was your second question?" he asked.

  "It doesn't matter, not yet. Listen, you gotta let me think about this. This is a big step you're asking me to take. I'm just a normal guy, not some hero. I don't run around risking my neck for the government. When was the last time they did that for me?"

  The man sighed and closed his eyes. “You know what, you’re right. You don’t owe the government anything. You are, as you say, just a normal guy with normal tasks on his mind. Nothing special, right?” I couldn’t tell if I was supposed to answer so I just kept listening. He finally opened his eyes and leaned close to me. I could feel his breath on my chin.

  “But you have to understand that this world doesn’t run on good intentions. It doesn’t run on renegades and stupid vigilantes. It runs on power. Those friends of mine next to you? Last week I let them loose on a man who had turned traitor; selling state secrets to our Communist friends across the pond. They had a particularly enjoyable time eating his soul. And then his entrails. They still have a healthy glow, wouldn't you say?" One of them angled its soulless gaze towards me, appearing to nod.

  Another rhetorical question. I still kept listening. “Power is all that you need for success, or else succumb to the slavery. You have your options. But I think you know can tell where the power lies in this particular offer.”

  I didn't take the bait. First acting on some thought that I was patriotic, and now threats. He really needed me bad.

  "You aren't going to scare me." I said. "What else do you have?"

  He sighed, rather deeply. "Listen, just consider this. I want to be a friend to you, and I hope that you'll see that by helping me that you can affect some change in this pitiless world. The proverbial shit is going to be hitting the fan rather soon, and you are in a unique position to help your country, and those inhabiting it, survive."

  He produced a small holochip and handed it t
o me. "Embedded on this chip are two important things, so don't go and lose it as soon as you're out of the car. First, my contact information. Just insert it into any comm device and it'll auto-dial me. Second, there are 5000 untraceable credits loaded. Take it to any ATM and you'll be that much richer. Call it an upfront expense. On your government."

  I took the chip and put it in the front of my backpack. "I'm not giving this back."

  "I don't want you to. Call me when you are ready to talk again. We can help each other." this time it nearly had a pleading edge to it.

  I spotted a mag-train station and told him to just drop me off at the corner. He sighed again, and spoke a few soft words towards the front of the car. It smoothly pulled to the side of the road and the door hissed open.

  "Remember what I said. Rimer is not, nor ever will be, your friend. I, however, can be the closest thing to a friend that you'll have. Give it some thought, and call me." he said through the open door. And with that, it slammed close with a pneumatic thump and the car re-merged into traffic.

  I stood there for a few moments and then headed up to the station. I still planned on visiting my friends, and decided that a nice train ride would give me some time to think.

  I slipped into an empty seat on the train and put my face in my hands. This was quickly becoming aggravating. First, little old me stumbled upon some secret any moron with half a brain on Persistence could have uncovered and yet, apparently it is big enough that assassins are being sent after me. Not just assassins, but remote-control, disposable assassins.

  Strange realizations started hitting me like the fat bugs splattering the windshield of the train. Those pulling the strings behind Persistence might have been planning this for years. Someone was supposed to find those videos and start to investigate. That began the chain reaction for Rimer to start his next phase. It wasn't that I became important or somehow pre-selected based on breeding, I’d just been the first schlup to follow the rabbit down the rabbit hole. My unearthing of the information indicated to Rimer that Persistence had achieved enough integration with the world that he (or she) could unleash the onslaught of human control. My discovery told Rimer that humanity was ready.

  To be destroyed. To be re-programmed. To be re-designed.

  Dammit. This was on me.

  I decided that the charismatic man I’d met in the town car was at least somewhat on my side and that this wasn't his first governmental-conspiracy rodeo show. Which meant, I possibly had access to the information I would need without going through Persistence. I also decided I didn't want to know his name. Getting personal with this guy meant I might have to deal with him in the judiciary system. That is, a literal chopping block where no matter what I testify, my association has already determined my fate. Keep it business, I told myself. Avoid the paper trail.

  The mag-train stopped at a terminal, then took off as normal. I was unaware of who got on and off, as I’d had my head in my hands during my brief reverie. Which means I was also unaware of the Pounder that got on the train. Even more so, I was completely unaware of his giant fist hitting me in the back of my head until stars exploded in my vision.

  Dammit, indeed.

  Chapter 9

  I entered a world of calm, yet roiling blackness. I had the odd feeling that my unconsciousness was unwarranted, and that I should still be sitting on the train, amusing myself with thoughts of conspiracy and general hopelessness about my situation.

  As I floated along, I saw what appeared to be flat, empty screens in the distance. The first started up as I got close enough with an audible hiss of static, fading into the old-timey patter of classic propaganda. A black town car was shown on the first screen, speeding away, windows blackened against the white sunlight. A pinprick of brightness appeared on its hood and the car wavered and then crumpled, its physical body appearing to struggle against an omnipresent crushing force that forced it into a smaller, smaller, smaller shape. Finally, all that remained was a rough, small cube, and a pool of some sort of dark substance that was most likely a combination of blood and transmission fluid. This concerned me, but in my present state, I did not really care.

  I was floating along on a gentle current. The next video hissed on.

  I saw myself, or as I was before consciousness fled me. I was sitting on the train, lost in a cloud of my own thoughts. I saw the Pounder slip in, sit behind me, and then, almost nonchalantly, proceed to bludgeon the living hell out of the back of my head with unrepentant fists. I slumped forward after the third blow, seemingly without any argument. That explained the thrumming I currently felt. I was gathered up by the Pounder and carried off the train without any word of protest or even acknowledgement from the other passengers. They, as was typical, minded their own business.

  The third and final screen flickered to life. This one I did not recognize. It was a pond, with fading sunlight bouncing off its calm, dark surface. There were some lily pads in the corner, flowers in blossom. I could nearly smell their anise-scent, and why not? This place was my own.

  The surface of the water was suddenly disturbed, the lily pads thrashing to and fro in protest of the waves flowing over them. Once the water settled down, I saw that a body had been thrown into the pond. A limp, dead body. It lay face down in the pool of water without any struggle.

  Then, the body moved. Not dead, but bound. The water itself was not terribly deep, but the intention was obvious. Whoever had tossed this person into the water expected them to be unconscious a bit longer...long enough to die of asphyxiation without any struggle. The body began to convulse, as though the first stages of oxygen-deprivement were beginning to take hold. I saw it thrash against its bonds, attempting to free itself. If only it would simply roll over, allowing the face to breathe the cool, clean air that I imagined.

  All this floating made me feel short of breath. There were no further screens for me to view and a glowy, ethereal redness began to tinge at the edges of this dream world. It pulsed in and out with a startling sharpness. It was then that I attempted to breathe, and felt a heaviness fill my lungs.

  I was the drowning man.

  Water was filling my lungs. My life was moments away from ending all too prematurely. And here I was, stuck in this dream world where maddening visions nagged at me, showing me the real world, showing me things that may or may not be happening. Regardless, I could feel the sharp pain and I needed to reassert control. I forced what little will I had remaining into trying to wake up.

  Nothing happened, I remained floating in the ether. Dammit, I was not going to drown in three feet of water.

  Finally, the world rushed to me like waking up from a nightmare. My limbs re-attached themselves and I exploded out of the water, gagging and coughing. It felt like a gallon of water was expelled from my lungs from my violent coughing. My choking sounds must have carried pretty far because a mother and her two sons broke through some bushes and found me in the middle of the water thrashing violently.

  One of the boys called out, "Are you ok, mister?"

  Yea, I thought, I'm clearly ok. "Just going for a swim, want to join me?" The last of the water finally left my lungs. I made my way out of the water, towards the family. "Did you happen to see who threw me in here?" I asked. They greeted me with blank stares, the mother looking like she wished she hadn't followed her boys.

  "Yea! I did! He was a big guy that walked like this", and the boy began walking very mechanical like a Pounder. "Yea yea," the other boy chimed in, "and he was carrying you. I saw him and said 'Mom! Look at that guy carry that other guy' and then I said 'is that man dead?'". I looked at the mother and she blushed slightly. So apparently there were witnesses to my disappearance into the brush, and the only testimony came from two kids, maybe nine years old apiece.

  "Where am I?" I asked. I didn't recognize this place. It was much too well kept and beautiful to be natural. "You're in Public Garden 5A, or as I call it, Melancholy, the prettiest garden this side of the grove!" said the moth
er. Ah, she does talk. "I've been preserving and protecting this garden for almost ten years now! Now, it’s one of the three remaining gardens in the city. The rest were turned into growing facilities for Shift. But not this place." I stared at her. She looked uneasy and the longer I stared, the more uncomfortable she got. "Boys, come with me, we’ll go get something to eat in the main hall".

  The boys obliged unhappily. As she left, she said over her shoulder, "You aren't the first person to be tossed in that pond and you probably won't be the last." I followed her out of the pond area onto a little path.