Shift

by Robert Lenz, Jacob Hunter

  "Exciting field we work in, huh?" he asked with the driest attempt at sarcasm I'd heard in a long time.

  Chapter 14

  "What happened to him?" I asked with a touch of awe. “I mean, what caused, whatever that was?”

  Tony looked down, as though ashamed. "You are not the only person who has been touched by Rimer. There are...." a shudder, a flicker of pain across his face, "...others. It seems that you are handling it quite well." I couldn't tell if that was pain or anger bleeding into his words.

  "Julio was among the first to volunteer. His symptoms didn’t show for quite a while, though we knew early on he wasn't strong enough. He was led on like the others, becoming a willing guinea pig with the promise of power. You see, it isn't money that drives some people, but raw power. Julio may have thought that he could handle the strain, that his system was up to the task, but as you saw it wasn't. Although, to be quite honest, we didn't exactly tell him. An experimental subject cannot always know the outcome in advance."

  "But why am I O.K.? What makes me special?" I asked, horrified that suddenly I'd begin to experience the pain coursing through my body. To feel my body contort against the blue fire searing my insides, searching for the easiest path out. Later, when I stopped to consider it, I realized it wasn't my ability to navigate Persistence that saved me, nor was I some genetic experiment gone right.

  It came down to my genes. Somehow, I had lived with a mutation that fortified my neural pathways. At its core, the human body transmits electrical signals from point A to point B. After being Shifted into Rimer, the synapses that handled the electrical flows were forced into working overtime, handling electrical impulses far exceeding their normal capacity. In Julio's case, it had proved too much, and he was literally torched from the inside out.

  Not me. I was special by pure, dumb luck. God, was I ever stupid. They knew they had found the "one" once I got that damn jack installed for the first time from that DNA sample that had been taken. There was no need for security as it was a net, widely cast over the populace. Looking for the one with the correct genetic makeup. The one who could handle the extra juice. That one, it turns out, had been me.

  I looked at him blankly and he returned my gaze with a reserve of steel I had not expected. It didn't last for long. He screwed his eyes shut, and was silent for several moments, grimacing.

  "It would seem that I'm not quite up to the task either."

  And with that, his skin began to glow, but not the fervent, blinding glow that Julio had displayed. No, this was a sickly, sallow glow, as though it weren't quite able to materialize. He grunted and sank to his knees, turning away as he did.

  "Listen, I can deal with this. I've...been dealing with it. There's a case full of needles in the bathroom, under the sink. Grab me one please. It's in a black case."

  I went to the bathroom as bid and found the case. Inside were twelve neatly stored needles, seven of which appeared to contain a blue-tinged, highly viscous fluid. The others were used and some had a few bluish leftovers clinging to the glass. I grabbed one of the full ones and hurried back. Tony took the hypo from me wordlessly, and jammed it into his right buttcheek, depressing the plunger as it slid in. His natural color returned and he appeared to regain his composure.

  "Thanks. It’s getting worse and worse, but with the shots I can manage."

  "No problem" I replied, somewhat awkwardly.

  "Why don't you head back home and get some rest. There's a rail station just a block away, you look like you could do with some shuteye. I'd let you stay here, but..." he gestured to the empty room. "Not much in the way of comfort here. Plus, we were probably spotted when we left the bar together."

  I nodded, beginning to feel waves of exhaustion wash over me. It were as though I had locked it away, and upon being named, my self-built walls disintegrated against their torrent. "I am pretty tired," I agreed.

  "Just go out the door, and turn left. Like I said, the station's about a block away. Give me a call when you're feeling up to it, and we can work this whole thing out. Maybe we can help each other."

  I nodded and went for the door. I strode out, suddenly just wanting to be gone, wanting to get home. I heard the snick of the deadbolt latch behind me. I guess he still had a few things to do before he went back to his place.

  Though what he'd do in an empty flat I had no idea. Nor at that point, did I really care. I was, as he said, tired.

  The bright lights of the railway had never looked so welcoming. I plopped down unceremoniously onto the metal bench and waited for the next southbound train.

  Sometimes, ideas seem to grow and evolve in one's head. They simmer, morph, deconstruct, and reconstruct before bubbling their way to the top. Other times, ideas seem to explode and slap you in the face.

  I just had an idea that slapped me in the face. Pretty hard too.

  My genetic ID, according to Persistence, had been rebuilt as Rimer's. I don't know why I was paranoid about being logged in with that ID but it occurred to me that my paranoia was stupid. I'm already being tracked, supposedly, what difference does it make where I log into Persistence? And if I'm not being tracked, what does Persistence care if I'm Rimer? The chances of someone who waited around for Rimer to hop online seemed very slim to me and even if they were, what's the worst that could happen? That somebody had tracked that I’d logged in?

  I pushed that last thought out of my head. I was going to log into Persistence as Rimer and poke around. Maybe there was something I could find with that ID. Something to help at least a little. I wagered I wasn't even supposed to have lived this long anyways, that I might as well go for broke. Just as I finished thinking through this particular thought, the light rail arrived near my pad. Good timing, for once. The trip home was also, fortunately, uneventful.

  Jacking in was the same as before. The attractive women in the white satin dress greeted me, fading out of existence quickly and leaving me with a very blank login. I knew I didn't have access to the memory or programs Rimer would have but I figured the Rimer ID might privy me to information out in the ether. I thought for a moment. Maybe Persistence managed a history of activities on some shared network and not locally?

  I spoke the command out loud: "Recent History". The woman returned again. She winked and said "Retrieving history for last five days". A moment later, a list popped up in my view. The first entry read "Reminder: Dinner appointment at 6pm." The second entry read "Reminder: Teeth cleaning." The third entry read "Reminder: Shopping List."

  I stared at the list, confused. This was not what I expected to see from a powerful mastermind. This was a list of everyday activities that Rimer must've programmed into the system, and as each one passed, Persistence cached it on some network to later be retrieved if needed. Of all the anti-climactic things in my life this-

  The list updated. The most recent entry read "Reminder: Discuss removal of suspect with Calvin." Suspect? Removal? That couldn't be the Calvin I knew, could it?

  The list updated again. "Moved: Discuss removal of suspect with Calvin." I spoke out a command to open that Moved topic. It didn't say much, but it did mention who moved it, a reason why, and it listed a new time. Calvin moved it, he had some relocating to do because his current place had gone up in flames and the new time was for tomorrow evening, at 6pm. It then listed a light rail route as the location. I jotted down everything, stored it in my HUD memory bank, and disconnected from Persistence.

  Talk about luck. Pure, dumb luck. Why was I so afraid to log into Persistence in first place? Now, I had the chance to confront Rimer in person and take care of this situation once and for all. I decided to retire for the night, and try to get some sleep. Before that, I quickly prepared for my visit by setting out a 9mm pistol, just in case.

  That night, I dreamed. I was in the ring of fire program, built by the kid. It was the program that protected some information I’d been snooping around in. But this time, everything looked superb. There wasn't any tearing alo
ng the rock textures used to represent the plane, it was smooth and even felt like rock. The fire was crisp, popping and flaring with heat. I could feel the warmth on my face. Beyond the fire was complete blackness. When I moved, the world seemed to transform along with me, making me believe that I was traveling on something infinite and never ending. The Demon flitted into existence. He was bigger, angrier, and much more life-like. His movements were nothing like the kid's demon. This time, they were fluid. Air puffed out its nose as it stomped on the ground. I could feel the ground tremble as it walked, causing me to stagger and have to regain my balance. The demon circled me, pointing one of its hands (or claws?) out and shouting something in a language I did not recognize.

  Sweat dripped from my brow and I guessed it wasn't the heat that caused it but the fear. I began to panic. I couldn't move my limbs. I started to apologize, screaming that I was sorry I’d taken the information. The demon finally stopped circling, turned towards me and started to charge. It dropped to all fours, its horns pointed like a bull.

  Right before it collided with me, I awoke, thrashing among the blankets I was tangled in. I blinked several times, trying to remove the sleep from my eyes. Catbot stared at me quizzically for a moment, then started to lick her paws. I rubbed my forehead to brush away the sweat, though my bed sheets were already drenched with it. I sighed and tried to fall back asleep. Catbot continued to clean herself diligently.

  Sleep was much more difficult to come by this time around. No matter what I thought about, the instant my eyes shut, I saw that demon, charging at me. I don't know why it scared me. I had already defeated that stupid kid's program, even though it had sent assault signals to my data jack. The demon was just a figment of another's imagination, and could not harm me.

  My body finally let go and I drifted off into the dream world again. This time, I dreamt I was on the light rail, waiting for Rimer to arrive. I was surrounded mostly by the backbone of the country: the laborers. The people that were pounded into a zombie-like state by the regime. They often all wore the same clothes for their menial task, rode the same light rail schedule almost every day and hardly ever said anything. They were beaten into submission. A few Pounders and Sharpers lurked on the opposite ends of the train but seemed to not notice me. They were probably security for the 'just in case' type scenarios. Rimer would be easy to spot within this crowd.

  The light rail whipped around corners, causing the laborers to sway in unison. Conversation was non-existent, the only words spoken were the light rail's voice service which noted what the next stop was. At each stop, the train would lighten its load. I finally found myself almost alone with two stops left on the ride. One other person was with me.

  To my surprise, it was Julio. He had laid down across the seats, and covered his face with a scarf. I could see his breath pushing through the scarf and it looked like wisps of smoke. Studying him further, I could see smoke rising from all parts of his body. He was beginning to burn up again. He never emitted any noise, but just laid there. I tried to walk over to him but found it difficult to move. My body refused my commands. Was Julio controlling me, again?

  Blue light began to flicker under my skin. Little pulses of pain matched the flickers. I called out to Julio but searing pain greeted me when I pushed air through my vocal chords. I could see Julio start to move and try to sit up. He pulled the scarf off of his face, revealing a crusty burn mark across his scalp that travelled around his head.

  More blue traces appeared under my skin. It was like something was loading and booting up, inside me. I crashed to my knees, trying not to black out. Julio walked over to me, his mouth opening and closing as he walked. The light rail made an announcement: "Last stop, SALDA Headquarters." Julio was now talking; he was saying "Rimer."

  The light rail stopped and the doors opened. Julio exited into the black nothingness and left me contorted in pain. A bright blue light began to flash in front of me and I heard the words "Complete."

  It took me a second to realize that I had actually woken up, and the "Complete" voice was the automated catbot cleaner that announced its work was finished. The cleaner was simply a box that catbot would wander into for a quick shower. I thought I had disabled confirmation. I unfolded myself and sat up abruptly. It was bright outside, about mid-morning. I rubbed my eyes and verified there wasn't any bright blue light. I stared at my skin, ensuring I didn't have some sort of weird boot up sequence taking place. Nope, just my pasty skin. No phantom signals, no phantom pain.

  "I think I ought to burn this bed," I said to catbot. She purred in agreement and then ran off to another room, chasing a phantom mouse. The thought of fire, however, didn't sit well with me.

  Chapter 15

  I stepped onto the mag train, taking the route helpfully provided by the scheduling program. I couldn’t be sure if Rimer had accepted Cal’s change of plan, but following that trail was worth a shot. I needed anything I could get before things got really bad with the virus.

  It struck me as odd that the schedule changes had happened just moments after I’d accessed the program. I'm a pretty lucky guy, but was I that lucky? I was so excited yesterday that it didn't occur to me, until just now, that this was too much to be coincidence. As I took my seat on the train, a bad feeling began to fester in my stomach. I flipped my HUD glasses on and attempted to look normal, though at this point the trap I was walking into was fairly obvious.

  The mag train wasn't very busy. Various laborers got on and off, none of them paying any attention to me. A few families here and there as well, their kids already deep into the daily brainwashing course required by the government. You could tell because they were so incredibly well-behaved. Not the, "please and thank you" kind of behaved, but more of a mindless, thoughtless, completely obsequious kind of behaved. Staring straight, not talking, completely detached from the world. I tried to recall my childhood and what I was like then, but drew a blank. That was the norm. Every now and then I'd try to remember what I was like as a kid, but it never worked. Just a blank space comprising several years.

  Somebody whose face was covered in a scarf, as it was in my dream, entered the mag train and sat directly across from me. I felt eyes peeling away my HUD glasses and probing beyond. This had to be Rimer. Nobody got on the train with him, he was alone.

  Rimer. Finally, the real one. Not a substitute, not a proxy. Rimer himself.

  I removed my HUD, smiled, and said, "Hi Mr. Rimer. Nice to finally meet you." And with that, I stuck out my hand to shake his. I couldn't see what the man’s reaction, but I could hear it: laughter. Rimer was laughing at me.

  He pulled the scarf down to his neck and I could finally see the man that had ruined my life and many others’. It only took a second to realize who I was talking to. It was the Proxy I’d seen in the video that had led me on this little goose chase. Of all the things, I actually gasped.

  "Not who you expected I presume?" He had a bright accent, extending his words and creating long sentences without using quite so many words. His mouth quickened to a smile and he chuckled. "Yes yes, I am the so called 'Rimer' but you have to understand, 'Rimer' hasn't physically existed for years."

  My face twisted, perplexed. "Hasn't existed for years? Then who the hell have I been chasing, and running from, all this time?" I asked.

  The Proxy pursed his lips and replied, "Oh, you've been chasing and running from Rimer. Just not the physical being of Rimer. He is, how you say, purely metaphysical?"

  Confusion crossed my features and I waited.

  He continued, "Rimer is both integrated within Persistence and manifests as a virus from time to time. Those blue lights you’ve seen? Yes, that is the virus. Now hacking into your brain, that was Rimer’s integration within the network. It is quite complicated, let me assure you, but it has turned out to be quite profitable." He winked at me after he finished his sentence.

  "Let me get this straight. Rimer doesn't exist, but he does. A virus and some sort of fancy program that
acts as an entry into one’s brain. What, a rootkit? A backdoor? From there he starts the infection process, controlling people and their actions? I don't mean to be dramatic but uh, why? What do you gain from this?"

  A rootkit was an old type of program, before Persistence existed. It would grant access to your main system to anyone that could see it over the network, exposing your data to the world. Personal computers weren't much of a target, but businesses such as banks or stock traders were.

  The proxy shrugged. "I exist purely to, oh what is the lingo, to handle things in the real world when shit hits the fan, such as when a person similar to you decides to poke around where he is not wanted."

  My hand found the grip of my pistol, tucked neatly in the back of my pants. It seemed as though things might get ugly, and I wanted to be ready.

  "You see, you have managed to defy all of our attempts to rectify the problem. We can't be exposed, not this late in the game. It would compromise many, many years of effort!" His face darkened, the smile completely gone. "You are infected, but you are much stronger than any prior adversary we have dealt with. Roughly 25 or so adversaries to be exact."