Interpretation
Dylan Callens
Cosmic Teapot Publishing
Hanmer, ON
Interpretation
Copyright © 2017 by Dylan Callens
ISBN: 978-1-988762-10-4
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher, addressed “Attention: Permissions Coordinator,” at [email protected].
Published by Cosmic Teapot Publishing
Hanmer, ON, Canada
www.cosmicteapot.net
Ordering Information:
Quantity sales. Special discounts are available on quantity purchases by corporations, associations, and others. For details, contact the publisher at the email address above.
Edited by Ashleigh McBain
Inkblots by Caleb and Isaak Callens
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Appendix A – Timeline of Events
Appendix B – Deciphering the Hexadecimal Sequences
Appendix C – About the Author
Chapter 1
If we choose, we can live in a comforting world of illusion. (Chomsky)
A tidal wave burst from the mall floor, reaching towards the ceiling. “Ahhh, ocean refreshment in every bottle,” claimed a beefy voice-over.
“Daddy, can we get some?” Liam asked, staring wide-eyed at the two story bottle of Ocean Surge displayed on the mall’s impressive translucent hologram, the Exoche. The tear-dropped bottle faded to a man who burst muscle from every curve, veins throbbing with each tiny movement. Flexing his chest, a small crowd of women wooed in the mall’s entrance. On the Exoche, a steady spray of water shot at the strongman, full force, like a sideways tsunami, as the man shouted, “Now that’s refreshing!” The crowd laughed together, each ‘ha’ in near unison.
“Of course,” Carl replied, his lips stretched into thin rubber towards his ears. He squinted, exaggerating the smile even more. Liam returned the same grin.
Carl reached down to hold his son’s hand, ready to move towards the food court, when the National News theme-song sliced across the sound of chatter, deadening any conversation. “Breaking News from the National News. We now go live on the scene, where police have cornered famous Untruther, Noah Robiner.”
The Albany Mall’s Exoche, nearly thirty feet high, forty-eight feet in width, and ten feet deep, was better than being at the real event. Onlookers could walk around the projection to see the action from every angle, as 3-D drones captured the live images. Police lights fired in every direction, shooting through the mall as if the threat was to be found where Carl stood.
On the Exoche, each member of the robotic constabulary held a stiff arm forward, following Robiner as he paced back and forth on a third floor balcony. Robiner knew better than to hold any weapons at the police. While he had a penchant for shooting people, holding weapons at the robotic constabulary was nothing more than a death wish.
The constables parted down the middle, making a path for someone heading towards the front of the standoff. The anticipation in the mall grew, as everyone hoped to catch a glimpse of America’s most loved hero. In a matter of seconds, a man with a closely trimmed beard – a feature that served to accentuate his rugged good looks – emerged from the ranks of robots. His confident strut was reason enough for the crowd to gasp with awe. It was him – it was really him – Tim Hunter. The Hunter.
“Dad, I want to be just like him when I grow up,” said a boy next to Carl and Liam.
Liam looked up and whispered, “Me, too!”
Carl smiled his rubber-grin at Liam. “I know, son.”
The Hunter called to Robiner through a loudspeaker, “Mr. Robiner, there is nowhere for you to go. The building is surrounded by the robotic constabulary. No one has to get hurt today if you give yourself up.”
While Robiner continued to pace, the crowd at the mall looked on in suspended animation. No one dared take a breath for fear that the tension might get caught in their throats. Finally, Robiner called back, “Why are you on their side? Can’t you see the truth? Can’t you see that I’m innocent?”
The Hunter ignored Robiner’s questions, “Mr. Robiner, you require medical attention. Please, come down and we’ll get you the help that you need.”
Robiner ran a shaky hand through his hair. His disheveled, skinny portrait was foreign to the onlookers. Only Untruthers were so ugly. Only Untruthers made such bizarre claims as “can’t you see the truth?” Everyone knew the truth. Albany was a beautiful city. People were happy. There was no crime, except those committed by the radical group who made vague accusations that some evil entity was somehow making everyone believe in something that didn’t exist. Their complaints were never specific.
As Robiner paced, The Hunter crept his way closer to the building. Robiner was about to speak when The Hunter reached back to grab a wide-mouthed gun strapped across his back. In a smooth motion, The Hunter had it trained on his target. Before Robiner could say another word, a net fired out of the weapon, speeding upwards, entangling its target in a web of smart fiber that slowly tightened its grip until Robiner collapsed. A robotic constable burst through the balcony door and picked up its frail prey.
The crowd in the mall exploded with applause. Robiner was hauled back into the building, wiggling in the net like the worm that he was. The net’s hold was inescapable. The Hunter held up his arm in victory for the camera as he moseyed towards the building, ready to meet the Untruther face-to-face. As he vanished inside the apartment, the theme music for the National News blared throughout the mall; the scene faded out. A commercial for the fast food chain, Brave New Burger, faded in. Men with their sons and women with their daughters went about their business, including Carl and Liam.
* * *
Liam slurped back the last drop of his Ocean Surge and mimicked the strong man from the commercial: “Now that’s refreshing!”
Carl nodded his approval, still holding on to his rubbery smile as he chewed on Brave New Burger’s newest sensation, the Soma with Cheese. “What do you want to do today?” he asked. “We’ve got the whole day to do whatever you like.”
Liam sat back in his chair to think. The mall was so big and exciting, even though he’d been there several times before. “Hmmmm,” he pondered, “we went to the aquarium last week. Laser golf is kinda boring. Ummmm...” he trailed off, lost in his own thought. Then, his eyes lit up, “We haven’t been to the arcade in ages. Can we go there? Please?”
“That does sound like fun,” admitted Carl.
Liam rushed to throw their garbage away, while images of holographic boxers, neon racecars, and ghost-inhabited labyrinths flood
ed his thoughts. Once the garbage was gone, Liam took a firm grasp of Carl’s arm. He pulled, trying to get his dad to hurry.
Carl said, “Slow down Liam, it’s not going anywhere.”
“Sorry. I just want to get there.” Liam kept pulling his father’s arm. Every few steps, Liam gave another tug. Carl laughed.
Liam added, “I wish I had one of The Hunter’s nets. I could put you in one of those and drag you.” He smiled from ear to ear at his dad.
Carl teased, “You’d treat me like one of those Untruthers?”
Liam laughed back, “Of course not, dad!”
The conversation made Carl thankful that The Hunter was out there, protecting the streets for kids like Liam. If it wasn’t for The Hunter and the robotic constables, the streets of Albany would be far more dangerous. He needn’t look any further than the examples Robiner set: blowing up an apartment building on the eastern side of the city, a public execution of nearly a hundred civil servants, and the rooftop shootings which killed dozens of innocent pedestrians. Carl remembered watching the live news report on the Exoche when the rooftop shootings happened, only a block away from where he stood at work. Concerned, Carl tried to sneak a look at where Robiner perched himself to snipe innocent citizens, but he couldn’t get close enough because the constables had the area blocked off by the time Carl went to see.
When they arrived at the arcade, Liam couldn’t stop bouncing around, his movement accidentally in time to laser-lights that flashed with the heavy boom-boom-boom of dance music. Across the arcade, a holographic ballet of interactive lights showered down on excited children. To Carl’s left, a girl dodged oncoming missiles as she shot lasers out of a plastic hand-piece. Her mother stood to the side, arms crossed, grinning as her daughter shouted out, “I just beat the high score!”
Liam continued to pull on his father’s arm, frantically searching for the perfect game. Dan Eagan, Carl’s colleague from work, caught sight of them and called out, “Can’t keep them out of here, can we?” Dan pulled his lips up to his ears and squinted his eyes, causing the deep lines in his face to wrinkle up like bunched fabric.
Carl called back, laughing, “Nope!”
Liam tugged harder to whisk Carl through the crowd, not giving him any time for chit-chat. They continued through the maze of games until, finally, Liam stopped dead in his tracks. A sign hanging in thin air read The Hunter, while Tim’s image darted across the play area. The life-like hologram dove, rolled, sprang to its feet, and jumped into a karate kick. “Whoa,” Liam whispered at the game.
“Why don’t you go play?” suggested Carl.
Eyes still trained on The Hunter’s acrobatics, Liam nodded with his mouth agape. On his first step forward, Liam nearly tripped over the metal lip circling the gaming area. His heart pounded harder with each step towards a cushioned seat with two poles in front of it; they looked like bent antennae. His hand brushed along the seat, which was held in suspension by active magnets. Finally, he straddled the bench; it shimmied as he applied his weight to it. Liam bent his body forward, grabbed at the handgrips, mimicking his hero’s riding style, which The Hunter, himself, described as, “an arrow ready to strike at any time.”
Once in place, a hologram shot up from the floor. An XT-400 motorcycle – The Hunter’s signature vehicle – formed around him, shiny and black. The tire rounded in front of the steering console; Liam could see the rims glowing a vibrant yellow. But there wasn’t much time to admire the machine around him. The seat rumbled under him while the roar of the engine drowned out all other sounds. It was a lion on the prowl, ready to bound forward.
The Hunter appeared on the bike’s dashboard. “Your mission is simple. Find and capture the Untruthers. But beware, they may have a few tricks up their sleeves.”
The bike’s console lit up with information about ammo, fuel, and health. A message appeared across the skyline that read: Pull Back on the Handlebars. Liam obeyed, jerking back the grips, causing the bike to shoot into a wheelie. The magnetic seat broncoed itself to a sixty degree angle, nearly tossing Liam. He eased off the accelerator and the bike came back down to a horizontal position. This time he eased the machine forward. Liam kept an eye on the speedometer as it climbed from 60 to 120 to 150 mph. The highway under him whizzed by in a mad blur, contrasted by the trees and open fields that provided for a peaceful ride. As Liam raced up a hill, a message floated on the horizon: Squeeze the Handlebar. Liam tried this and a trail of bullets blasted forward from two machine guns mounted on either side of the front tire. He tested the machine gun, figuring out how to best use it. The tutorial was quick to end, however, as an Untruther popped out from behind a tree. Liam squeezed the handlebar hard and bullets sprayed across the gaming area. The Untruther was hit in three places, each puncture shown in slow motion, blood splattering out from behind him. As Liam sped by, the Untruther collapsed in a thick pool of blood.
After Liam downed a dozen enemies, another message appeared: Driving Hazard! Prepare! With that notice, the scene changed until only darkness hung around him. A ramp slapped down in front of the bike. Liam was quick to react, pulling back on the throttle. The bike rushed up the structure, reaching over 170 mph. Euphoria set in, as he steadily climbed upward, leaning back, hoping this would give him extra speed. The bike reacted to his shift in bodyweight, pulling into a wheelie. Managing to hold on, he flew off the top of the ramp. Still pulling, the world twirled upside down. The bike, descending, continue to spin. The ground rushed towards Liam’s face with everything still spinning. Liam couldn’t make much sense out of what was happening. It felt so real. Just inches before hitting the ground, the motion stopped. Along the ground, the words appeared: Game Over.
The hologram vanished. The arcade reappeared around him. Liam’s legs were wobbly from the dizziness of feeling upside down in the game then right-side up when the arcade came into focus. “Whoa,” he looked up at his dad with a rubbery grin. “That was so cool!”
Carl laughed, “Yes, it certainly was.” He put a hand on Liam’s head. “I don’t remember games being that realistic when I was a kid.”
Liam sensed a when I was a kid story coming. Not to disappoint, Carl added, “The best that we ever had were games like that one over there.” Carl pointed to a Supreme Combat game where a girl was punching at some bruised up hologram. Carl remembered bobbing around the ring, as if he were some kind of lightweight champion. Out of breath, sweat showered down his body. The memory was hazy, though. His arms – he wanted to remember how they felt, but he couldn’t. The opponent, who was that?
Carl zoned out while staring at the boxing game. Something felt out of place; he couldn’t recall all the details of the game. The ones that he did remember, faded. He always remembered his childhood, as if a movie played at will. Carl tried to recall a time that he played the game. He could see himself step into the ring...
The memory was abruptly interrupted when lightning ripped through the front of his head.
Carl bent to one knee, unable to steady his mass. The flash dulled enough for an image of an emaciated boy to appear. A child that he had never seen before. The boy bobbed from side to side. He swung wildly at the air, then barely steadied himself on his skinny legs. He was visibly out of breath but relentlessly bobbed and punched at an invisible enemy. Carl could see that the room was large – about the size of the arcade. All around, people moved in arbitrary patterns. Some stopped to stare intently at the boy, as if he was performing some kind strange interpretative dance. On closer inspection, Carl couldn’t help but notice the expressionless faces which shifted from the boy to something past him, a secret entity that only they saw. Carl took a deep breath, trying to get a grip on what he was seeing. It felt like a memory rushing up from the darkest part of his subconscious, yet it was so out of place with everything he ever knew. The light subsided, replaced by horrible nausea that clung to his belly.
Slow to stand up, Carl wasn’t sure what happened. He was thankful, however, that the feeling started to pass.<
br />
“Are you okay, daddy?” Liam’s eyes moistened.
Carl waited before answering, “I think so.” He shook his head, as if flinging away any remnants of what happened. He glanced back at the Supreme Combat game. The same kid was swinging wild uppercuts into the hologram’s face.
“Yes, I’m fine.” He smiled from ear to ear. “What do you want to do next?”
* * *
Carl always admired the crystal chandeliers in his apartment building’s main entrance. The rich light shone down like tiny sunsets splashing across the stonework of the floor and walls. A hint of lavender filled his nose, which eased his mind off the event at the arcade. Liam nestled under Carl’s arm, trying to keep stride with him, as they walked together towards the elevator.
In the stonework, an intricately carved gold plate hung to the right of the lift’s entrance. Carl pressed his thumb against the plate. It scanned his print before the exotic Bubinga-wood doors silently slid open. Through the elevator speakers, The Bare Necessities quietly played in the background.
Liam said, “Oh, I love this song.” He hummed along.
“Your mother and I would sing it to you all the time.”
Liam laughed, “I remember.”
“You do? How do you remember that? You were so young.”
Liam shrugged with a wide smile slapped across his face.
“Well, smarty pants, did you know that my mom would sing that same song to me?”
“No, I didn’t know that,” Liam said, “I can understand why. It’s a great song.”
Carl laughed, “It sure is.” He gave Liam a hug.
The mention of Liam’s mother forced Carl to re-live the day of her car accident, as it always did. He remembered the call vividly; some nameless voice from the hospital talked through the communication strip. The small device stuck inside his ear canal delivered the words, “Mr. Winston, I’m sorry to inform you that your wife died in a car accident tonight. The doctors...” but that’s where the words stopped making sense, as he shrank down, the air leaving his lungs. He was dizzy, gasping for breath. Even thinking about it now winded Carl. The only thing that kept him moving after the accident was Liam. Not because Liam reminded Carl of his wife, but because he loved his son. He turned to give Liam another hug.
Interpretation Page 1
