I hear rain battering the roof. In front of me there’s an angry ocean, the waves white-capped and the water black in-between snaps of lightning.
“Everything all right?” Someone grabbed my elbow.
I was holding onto the car door. My entire body was quivering with the numbing sensation of a vision that normally only trickled down my neck. My gums felt dead; I tapped my teeth together to get the feeling back.
“Yeah,” I said. “Just… I was, uh, just remembering something.”
It took a second, then I recognized the someone that grabbed my elbow was a Paladin named Jaret. He helped me lean against the car. I sensed he was about to call for assistance, maybe bring a few servys down to check me out. I had enough strength and sense to convince him I was fine. I stood up, barely able to keep from swaying. He watched me get in the car. I waved him off.
“I’m fine,” I said. “Training caught up to me. I didn’t hydrate enough, that’s all.”
He waited, until I said, “No, seriously. I’m fine.” I left with a glance back to make sure.
What the hell was that all about? A vision only a few days after that last one? And during the daytime with a full-body numb out? The details were so vivid. I felt transported to another space and time, like I was standing on a sandy beach. I should’ve reported it, but that was sure to screw up the whole evening. I’d do it when I got back. They could lock me up in the infirmary if they wanted. Just not before tonight.
“Are you ready?” The car spoke in a calm, feminine voice.
I took the wheel. “I’ll drive.”
“Very well. It is currently 60-degrees in Charleston, South Carolina. The wormhole transport is cleared for entry. After exiting, you are approximately thirty-four minutes from your destination. Please obey the laws and drive carefully.”
An image of the boulder-field materialized on the dashboard. I eased the car over the slick floor and through the apparition of the cave wall into the field. The face of Garrison Mountain went up several hundred feet behind me, like a wall of resistance that the world needed to respect. It was the first thing tourists saw when they approached. It let them know we were big and strong. That they were safe.
I crossed the field and entered the dense trees on the other side to the swirling mass of the wormhole. I left Garrison Mountain behind. But the vision of the beach came along.
Cars were parked along side the road leading to the high school. Dozens of shuttles picked people up and carted them to the tagghet stadium. I continued down the road, people staring.
“There’s no parking up there, dumbass,” someone shouted.
Shuttle drivers directed me to turn around but I eased down the road until I reached the turnabout that looped in front of the massive high school steps leading to the front doors. I gave the car instructions to park somewhere far away; I’d call for it when I was ready. She said, “Certainly.”
No one stared at me once I was out of the car. It wasn’t like they couldn’t see me. I wasn’t invisible. It was a simple mind trick, that’s all. I convinced people that the space I occupied was not interesting. They saw me. They just didn’t care.
The car waited while I stared at my reflection in the window. My hair, still white, was long again, but not like a few years back. I’d gotten in the habit of pushing it straight back over my head, but it didn’t stay there long, much like Mother’s behind-the-ear habit. Most of all, I noticed what Chute called the serious look. My eyes were piercing; my jaw muscles flexed and my lips were a thin line.
“Smile a little,” Chute would say, and squeeze my cheeks.
So I practiced in the driver side window. It looked like something from school pictures. Third grade. I tried again and it just got worse. “Go,” I said, waving the car off.
I’ll wing it.
I followed the crowd toward the tagghet stadium, one of the most expensive venues ever constructed at a high school, all funded by the Paladin Nation as an apology for the duplicates’ deadly assault a few years earlier. The team went undefeated in the inaugural season, became nationally ranked, and had South Carolina’s MVP. A girl with red hair.
The extravagant entrance was crowded. Little kids dipped their hands in the rectangular pond and high school teachers handed out brochures about the evening’s events. A fox mascot tickled kids with oversized cushy hands.
The concession stand was inside the main gate selling popcorn and drinks and souvenirs to a packed crowd. Three girls passed by with green and tan shirts, 33 – 0 plastered on the front. On the back was Chute’s face, a game photo of her holding her helmet with one hand and the curved tagghet stick in the other.
Most Valuable Player.
A vendor pushed through the crowd, holding up hats and towels. “You got any shirts?” I shouted.
He looked around, noticed I was standing right next to him. He reached in the box strapped over his shoulders. “I got three kinds, which one you want?” I nodded at the girls. “You want the girl shirt? All I got left are pink. You want the pink?”
“I’ll take it.”
He sold it to me and moved on. I pulled it over my head. Pink. No one saw me anyway.
I walked past the pedestrian ramp that led to the upper deck. The corridor was filled with displays hosted by student clubs and local charities. The awards night was as much for civic awareness as it was for jocks. I remained unnoticed until I saw the crowded display ahead.
It was the Student Virtualmode Club. They were future programmers that built elaborate virtual worlds and constructed complex gear to transport a person’s mind out of their skin and into a sim where they could experience the Internet in virtualmode. Holographic monsters walked across the top of their banner. A hulking rock monster thumped its chest and an armored knight broke his sword over its head. The kids laughed, then watched a dragon waddle over and incinerate the rock monster.
The virtualmode students were talking to adults, explaining what the club did, extravagant membership fees and field trips. They touted the highest graduation rate among the student body and the highest grade point average. And scholarships, too. There were more scholarships available in virtualmode world building than any career field out there.
The bulk of the crowd was gathered in front of a short, plump kid explaining a gadget in his right hand. I leaned against the wall, near enough that I could hear what Streeter was saying.
“It will revolutionize the way we communicate,” he said. “Our minds are as unique as our fingerprints. We can find anyone after we meet them by using this to capture their mindprint. You’ll never lose track of family, friends or even pets. We can call them, link up with their mind, and then virtually see them as if they’re in front of us. Virtually touch them. Space will become irrelevant.”
“Not only that, once calibrated with your mind,” Janette said, “it will record every thought and emotion you experience. It will record your entire life.” Janette was by Streeter’s side. She was short, too. “The government has already asked for a demonstration. He’s flying to Washington next week. NASA wants to buy the rights.”
Streeter looked at her and smiled. He may as well have batted his eyes.
“What do you mean virtually see them?” a dad asked.
“This gear,” Streeter said, holding up the half-globe, “will link your mind with, say, your grandmother living in California. Your eyes will see her in front of you. You’ll see what she’s doing right this second, like she’s in the room.”
“Let’s see it work,” someone said.
“All right.” Streeter scanned the crowd. Little kids raised their hands, jumping up and down, shouting me, me, me. He swung his finger around like a spinning wheel to pick the winners. He placed the gear against their foreheads, one at a time, and asked them to think of a friend or relative. And when they did, a holographic image of planet Earth materialized with a glowing dot on it, signifying where the person they were thinking of was located. And he was right, every time.
“
Big deal,” a kid said. “You said we’d see them.”
Streeter smiled. “Oh, you’re going to see them. I’m going to pick someone at random and dial up whoever that person thinks of?” He circled the spinning finger. “You ready? Huh? Who’s going to be the lucky one?”
Me! Me, me, me!
The finger spun around. Parents were even raising their hands. The crowd grew larger. Streeter worked them like a street performer, waving his hand around and around. It started to come down to pick a winner—
Thunder rumbles through the sand under my feet. The next flash of lightning illuminates the silhouette of a figure in front of me. The heavy rain blurs the details, but I notice the knife in the right hand.
“You there, in the pink shirt.” Streeter was pointing at me. People were staring. “Yeah, you. I’m talking to you. Wake up. What’d you say?”
I was still leaning against the wall but couldn’t feel my legs. I don’t know how I managed to keep from sliding down to the ground. My entire head was ringing like a bell. I was moving my mouth but nothing was coming out. Now the kids watching the holographic battle turned around and looked.
“Hey there, stranger.” Streeter came over. He laughed nervously, looked back at the crowd and pulled on my shirt. “That’s a nice shirt. Isn’t that a nice shirt, folks?”
They laughed nervously, too.
I managed a single step and it reverberated to the top of my skull. It hurt, but it brought me back, flushed away the heavy dullness.
“What’s your name, stranger?” Streeter asked.
“Um. Socket.”
“Boy, you nervous or just excited?” The crowd laughed, went along with the joke.
“Just, um, a little nervous, I guess.”
“Nothing to be nervous about, my friend.” He held up the gear. “Now I’m going to ask Socket to visualize someone in his family. That person is going to materialize in front of us. Now, normally, only Socket would see this person, but I’ve calibrated the gear to project it for all of us to see. But first,” he put the gear in my hands, slightly heavier than a paperweight, “we need the locator to find Socket in time and space. Once it finds him, standing right here, it’ll seek out his mystery guest.”
Others joined the crowd to watch the pink shirt, funny-name kid holding a paperweight. All I could think about was the thunder and the lightning and the knife, how the figure felt familiar. And how I’d never had two visions in one day. Panic began to rise, along with a thought: Not again. Something was changing in me and I didn’t understand it. Things like that made me nervous.
“Close your eyes, Socket,” Streeter said. “Let the locator connect with your being, much like a virtualmode transporter pulls you from your skin.”
I took a deep breath and relaxed. I was already feeling normal again. The last thing I wanted to do was freak a whole bunch of people out. I closed my eyes and gripped the locator tightly. I could feel it travelling through my arms like filaments, searching through my nerve lines for all my organs and the awareness of my being. It was a good prototype, but now I understood why Streeter chose me. It wasn’t ready to fully connect with a normal person. He needed extra-perception, someone like me to assist its communication. So I fully engaged with the gear, letting it merge with my awareness.
“There we go,” Streeter said.
I opened my eyes. A hologram of Earth materialized in front of us, turning on the axis, like it had done with the others.
“So the locator is finding Socket, it’ll show us where he is, and then we’ll ask him to…”
The crowd began laughing. A dot was glowing in the United States, but not in Charleston, South Carolina. It was in the middle of Illinois.
“You’re only off by 800 hundred miles, kid,” someone said.
Several people walked off, someone tossing in, “Good luck in Washington. Loser.”
“No, just a second.” Streeter took it from me. “I forgot to reset the… it’ll still work…”
But he lost them. They were heading for their seats. The ceremony was going to begin in ten minutes anyway.
“Man, why’d you have to go and do that?” He scowled.
“I didn’t do anything,” I said.
“Because I made fun of your pink shirt?” He stared at it. “Why are you wearing a pink shirt?”
I showed him Chute’s face on the back.
“They have those in other colors, you know.”
“I didn’t buy it for the color.”
“Yeah, well, it doesn’t work on you. And what’s with the look of shock? You knew I was going to call you and then you looked like you were going to start drooling. You having a seizure?”
“Yeah, well, I just was… thinking of something. You caught me by surprise.”
“More like I kicked you in the balls.”
“Hi, Socket.” Janette bobbed on her toes, holding Streeter’s hand.
Janette and I talked while Streeter went over to the display. She liked my shirt and asked how I was doing and how excited she was for Chute. “Are you two going inside?” I asked.
“We got to break down the display,” Streeter said. “And recalibrate this, apparently.”
“You’re close, Streeter. The code was correct and most of the internal structure. It must be holding some data from previous reads.”
“We could take it back to the lab,” Janette said, “run another test drive to realign the synapse relays.”
“I suppose.” He had that look again, as if she was speaking the language of love and only he could hear it. Then she blushed.
“I’m going to leave you two alone,” I said.
“Well, come by later.” He grabbed me before I could get away. “And don’t tell Chute we’re not in there. We’ll watch it on relay, but I can’t get in there to see it live.”
“So you want me to lie?”
“No, just tell her you saw me and that I saw her, that’s not a lie. If she gets suspicious, just run. That’s what I do.”
He looked at Janette for support, but she didn’t know Chute all that well, yet. Chute wouldn’t miss something like this for either of us and she expected the same in return.
“When are you bringing me out to the Garrison? You’ve had Chute out there like twelve times. Me? I’ve been there once.” He put one finger in my face to make his point. “You like her better than me or something?”
“Infinitely.”
“My feelings are hurt.”
I pushed his hand away. “Every time I ask you to come out you got something planned.” I stared at Janette for a long second. “Who’s fault is that?”
She nodded in agreement. Streeter said, “All right, well, I got a life. Sue me.”
“Maybe I could schedule you to come out in a few days, before I leave on a trip.”
“Two days?” He rubbed his chin and glanced at Janette. “Yeaaaaah, I can’t do that.”
“You’re hilarious, you know that?”
“How about this? I project into your office through virtualmode, you can show how the whole molding technology works. You don’t need permission for that.”
“I’ll see.”
Virtualmode club members grabbed Streeter and Janette followed. He pointed at me as if to say do it. I nodded but they were already discussing the next meeting, taking down the banner and boxing up the gear while the kids screamed for more action from the monsters. By the time I reached an entrance to the stadium, the corridor was mostly empty. Two minutes before the ceremony began.
L E G E N D
Raining Roses
Eight-thousand seats in that stadium. All filled.
Lightners floated above the stadium spotlighting the crowd that cheered when their images appeared over the field in three-dimensional detail. Holographic fireworks streaked harmlessly from one side to the other, like a battle of green, blue and red fizzling missiles. Hundreds of shiny lookit orbs hovered around, their red eyelights circling their shiny softball-sized bodies, scanning and directing the
crowd. I made my way near the front, stood along the railing just above the field.
Security guards were along the perimeter. There were some real important people on the stage in center field, including the governor, mayor and all the members of the county school board. The rest of the stage was occupied by coaches and parents. There in front, sitting with a blanket over his lap in a wheelchair, was Chute’s father, Mr. Thomas, who was paralyzed in the car accident that took his wife’s life. Behind him was Chute’s older sister, Angela, her hands on his shoulders.
A bone-rattling explosion shook the seats, and then the sky lit up. Fog oozed from the tunnel at the end of the field, smoky tendrils crawling over the grass. Synthesized music hammered out a beat. The head coach emerged from the thick cloud and the crowd erupted.
He reached center stage and shook hands. And then the first player stepped from the smoke, hands in the air, dancing in a circle, whooping the crowd to another level of fanatical frenzy. Another tagger emerged, hopping up and down, swinging his arms. The announcer’s voice barely registered above the excitement. The third player out broke rank and raced for the wall where fans leaned over with outstretched hands. The next one out followed until several of them were running along the perimeter shaking hands and signing shirts and programs. The crowd rushed down the aisles to get a piece of the action.
Two students pushed by me, booing. They threw poppers at the players, laughing with the squeal of gear-induced euphoria. Their energy tasted sulfuric, their synapses burning from the small patches they hid behind their ears that kept the dopamine production on high. They started to throw another round of poppers.
“Turn yourselves into security.” I barely spoke above the noise, but they didn’t need to hear the words. They felt them. “Report you are using illegal gear and need help.”
Their complexions became pasty. They were frozen in mid-throw, absorbing what I just imprinted on their minds. They accepted my thoughts as their own, felt the compulsion to turn themselves over to the authorities. The command wouldn’t last long, soon it would fade and they would resume control of their being, but it would last long enough to get them out of the way.
Socket 1-3 - The Socket Greeny Saga Page 44
