Paragon

by Rob RodenParker

  Kepp's apartment was larger than the average in London, it included three bedrooms, one of them en-suite. In addition to that, the kitchen and lounge areas were separate; something of a rarity in a space-constrained city. The interior decor was minimalist; cream colored walls contrasting sharply with a glossy black floor. The furniture was a mixture of tastefully chromed steel and glass for the tables and chairs gathered around the rear of the lounge, and black leather and a matte black finish for the sofa and the coffee table dominating the middle of the space.

  The lounge lights were on, and a sleeping figure lay curled up on the sofa, wrapped in a duvet.

  Kepp closed the door quietly so as to not wake his sister, but as soon as the locks clicked and whirred, she awoke and sat up. She looked at him through bleary eyes, a mess of black hair framing her delicate features.

  "Jess. Hey," he said quietly.

  "You're really late," she replied, her voice cracking a little.

  "I thought you'd be pissed," he said, a genuine smile brightening his features.

  "I'm really tired right now," came the reply. "Maybe I'll be pissed at you in the morning."

  Kepp chuckled quietly. "Okay, let's get you to bed properly." He walked over to the sofa and lifted Jess and duvet in one big bundle, ignoring her sleepy protests. Jess was sixteen, and was thoroughly against being treated like a baby. However, as he walked over to her bedroom, she stopped struggling and rested her head against his shoulder.

  "Missed you, brother," she whispered.

  Kepp laid her down gently.

  "Sleep well."

  He closed the door softly behind him as he left.

  Kepp unlocked a small safe situated in a cupboard in the master bedroom, and pulled out his purge pack. The pack contained capsules of reactant - fuel for the nanocells powering his implants and a small syringe to inject them with. It also contained a device to protect his tongue from being bitten when he was purging. He loaded the syringe with the reactant, checking and double-checking for air bubbles, before feeling around on the left side of his neck for the small stud which located the correct entry point for the syringe. Having found it, he injected the reactant in, and lay down on the bed for a few minutes. The world spun a little bit - the side effect of the reactant.

  Next came the purging of the reaction products; this was the uncomfortable part. The products were naturally broken down by the body’s T-cells, however when present in the blood stream they caused nausea, seizures and hallucinations. Different people experienced different symptoms, but they were always severe.

  Kepp shed his outer garments, inserted the tongue protector, and clad only in a t-shirt and boxers, walked to the purge cell in the corner of his room. The cell was a box of roughly two meters square and it was padded on the inside. He stepped in and closed the door behind him. He then leaned against the far side, putting his legs and arms through the wall mounted traps.

  "Greetings, Paragon Kepp," a computer voiced.

  "Start Purge," said Kepp.

  "Confirmed," replied the computer.

  The lights in the cell turned off, leaving Kepp in blackness. The box was also soundproof, leaving him only with the faint sound of his breathing; the researchers said that sensory deprivation reduced the severity of the purging effects.

  The straps tightened against his ankles and wrists; it was starting.

  Kepp braced himself.

  It began with nausea. His headache suddenly amplified, as if someone was trying to inflate his head to bursting, and then it felt like that same someone had stuck their hand down his throat. He began to retch, each one more violent than the last.

  Good thing I haven't eaten for a while, he thought, in between heaves.

  This carried on for the next minute or so, by which time he was gasping for breath, relying on the straps to hold him up. Sweat poured down his face as he contorted in pain.

  Next, the convulsions came. He thrashed like a fish out of water, straining against the straps as his muscles spasmed out of control. His head lolled about and he could feel his jaws clamping down against the tongue protector. He passed in and out of consciousness a few times and was drenched in sweat. It felt like waves upon waves of cramp breaking on his body. He screamed, and carried on screaming until his throat was too sore to muster sound. Finally, the convulsions seized. He bowed his head, panting. His body felt like someone had been striking it with a sledgehammer, but at least the headache was starting to dull.

  However, he dreaded the part that came next - the hallucinations.

  The darkness of his cell disappeared, and the walls and roof exploded outward towards infinity. He saw her standing in front of him, back turned.

  “Julia!”

  Kepp called her name, but she seemed not to hear. He tried to reach out for her, but his limbs were bound. He gritted his teeth.

  "It's not real," he repeated in his mind, "She's dead. It's not real."

  Suddenly, the figure in front of him turned, and as he once again saw her face, he lost himself in the hallucination. Well-toned skin served as the foundation for a set of soft features; well-shaped light grey eyes, delicate nose and full lips framed by a head of thick raven black hair. Those eyes however, looked at him listlessly; he remembered them being so full of love before. She reached out a finger, and stroked his cheek, he felt the softness of her touch, and blinked hard, eyes watering up.

  Suddenly, the listless eyes turned harsh, recriminating. "You couldn't save me," she intoned, the words echoing across his consciousness.

  "No! You're not real!" shouted Kepp. He shut his eyes tightly, but the image persevered, burnt onto his retina. The vast expanse, which was empty, began to fill with details, dripped in as if a careless painter had set his brush over the canvas of Kepp's mind. The Martian headquarters of the Angel Cartel began to form itself around him; a large room, furnished with red carpet and expensive woods for the walls. A single mahogany desk set in the middle of the room. He felt the warmth of Julia, huddled beside him, then, just as it was five years ago, she shouted and leaped in front of Kepp. Bullets thudded into her body, delivered from the gun of the Cartel's leader, Morian.

  "You should've taken those bullets!" a voice pronounced, echoing around the room. Kepp wasn't sure whether it was his or Morian's.

  He saw again Julia's face in her final moments, contorted in agony, and yet, as their eyes met, making a small brave smile, and then her lips parted for the last time, mouthing "I love you" before forever becoming still.

  Suddenly, everything faded to black, and Kepp was alone again, with his screams of rage, helplessness and regret. He strained futilely against the straps, tears rolled down his cheeks; the pain was as fresh now as it was then. After some time, he began to calm down.

  "Purge complete," voiced the computer.

  The lights in the cell came on slowly, and the restraining straps loosened. Kepp spat out the tongue protector and stumbled back into the bedroom, exhausted. He fell onto the bed, asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.

  The smell of food drifted in through the half-open door. Kepp awoke, driven by hunger. He tried to open his eyes, blinking them in protest at the midday light projected by the bedroom.

  "Dim lights," he mumbled, and the lighting reduced to a more comfortable level.

  He gave himself a few moments to wake fully, and then sat up.

  "Jess!" he shouted.

  "What?" came the reply, accompanied by the sizzling of fried food.

  "Breakfast smells good!"

  "It's lunch, you idiot."

  Kepp showered and dressed quickly, and packed away all of his purge gear before walking into the lounge. Jess was setting the dining table with fresh food - eggs, bacon, sausages, beans, tomatoes and mushrooms.

  "Fresh food!" enthused Kepp; for they usually had nutrient capsules along with synthetic meat and vegetables for their meals.

  "You took your time getting up," needled Jess, with a smile.

  "I'm fourteen years older than
you, I need my sleep." Kepp rebutted.

  He sat down and started eating, mumbling his thanks through mouthfuls of sausage.

  "So, how've you been?" asked Kepp.

  "Same old, same old," replied Jess, who had finished eating, and was staring at the table. The smile that she had worn disappeared, to be replaced by a more sober expression.

  "Fair enough. Everything good at school?"

  "Same again, you really think anything much has changed since you were gone?" Jess said, a little irritably.

  Kepp shrugged, dealing with Jess' irascibility was tricky at times. She was incredibly intelligent, and saw his questions merely as probes to find something wrong with her life, which he would then swiftly try to rectify. There was a short pause as Kepp thought about what to say next, but Jess broke the silence.

  "Actually, I have news! I've applied to Paradigm for a junior tech analyst position."

  This caught Kepp off guard.

  "What?" Kepp fixed her with a surprised stare. "How is that even possible; you're only sixteen. They'd never accept you."

  "Maybe, but I'm not an ordinary sixteen year old; I managed to hack into their network last week. I left them a message," she replied, rather smugly.

  "Don't mess with me Jess, this isn't funny. People who mess with Paradigm generally end up having very bad things happen to them."

  "I'm not messing. It's true, and I'm good enough that I didn't leave a trail of course. It would have just looked like a routine accessing of the network by you."

  "By me?" Kepp sighed. "Okay, let's drop that for a second. That's not the issue here. The issue here is that even if they offer you a place, which I doubt, you can't join Paradigm. I forbid it."

  "What? You can't just forbid me like I'm ten years old. I know this is what I want and I've worked hard for it."

  "What Paradigm does...what goes on there...why do you even want to work there anyway?"

  "To help you! I know what Paradigm does. You protect everyone from all the evil people in this world, and what you do is dangerous as well, I know that much. I just want to help you, if there's anything I can do to make it less likely for you to get hurt, I'll do it!"

  "That's a sweet sentiment, Jess, but the one who needs protecting here is you. You're the only family I have."

  Jess fixed him with an icy look.

  "Don't use that as an excuse," she said flatly.

  "I'm not; I'm just trying to protect you."

  Jess threw her hands up in disgust, and was suddenly furious.

  "Protect me?" she snorted, standing up in her anger, "That's what’s happened all my life, and look where that's gotten me! Let's see," she began counting on her fingers, "My mum, lost to an overdose, my dad, killed by the cops. Then the one person who really took care of me, Julia, she died too. Now, I'm living in this shit place with a brother who I'm not actually related to, going to a shit school where I'm failing because I just can't care about what's going on."

  She paced up and down, exasperated, "I find friends impossible to make, because none of them understand what it’s like to be so fucked up, and now you're telling me I can't do the one thing I actually wanted to do? The one thing that will give me a purpose in life?"

  Jess glared at Kepp, her eyes burning.

  "Don't fucking tell me what to do, I'm not going to listen to you."

  "Jess, just calm down," replied Kepp, trying to stay calm. "And stop swearing."

  "So what if I fucking swear huh? You're not my dad. Why can't you just leave me alone and fuck off!"

  "Jess, get yourself under control."

  Jess screamed and pushed over a chair in her frustration, she began screaming at Kepp.

  "No! I won't listen to you. I don't want to get this under control, this is all your fault. Everything is your fault! I bet it was your fault that mum died; why didn't you stop the drug dealers quicker? And I bet you had something to do with dad too! It was probably your fault Julia died as well!"

  Kepp snapped. He brought both fists down on the table with a bang. Cutlery and plates rattled. Jess was stunned into silence.

  "That's over the line, Jess." Kepp said, his voice menacing in its quietness.

  Jess turned to hide her tears, and stormed out of the lounge. Kepp ran a hand through his hair and sighed. Presently, his datapad beeped and a message came through, it was from Saro.

  "Report to HQ at 0:00 hours, midnight tonight for the operation. Bring Jess."

  Kepp wasn't surprised that they wanted to see her. He figured that nothing serious would probably come of it. But still, his gut reaction was unease, and being the type of person who trusted his instincts, that made him worried.

  Chapter 4 – Fortitude

  Astropedia Entry: Neural Implant (also known as Synaptic Link)

  Neural Implants are a semi-conductor device usually embedded in the back of the neck, to interface directly with a human’s brain. They provide enhanced cognitive function by augmenting memory, boosting hearing or vision, or allowing direct interfacing with computers. Neural Implants are currently made using a 2 nm process, manufactured on a synthetic diamond bed doped with boron and phosphorous. These devices interface with the human brain by being located directly on the spinal cord, spikes extend into the spinal cord itself to pick up on neural impulses sent by the brain, and allow transmission of said impulses. Neural Implants are generally powered by using nano-generators embedded in various locations around the body. These nano-generators are generally pre-existing as they are used to power credit chips and other embedded electronics in the human body.

  People must be trained to use Neural Implants, since most are designed to be activated by the use of conscious thought. This becomes second nature very quickly. Neural Implants cannot be used by those with severe mental disorders like schizophrenia.

  Alpha Cybernetics has the dominant market share on the entire implant market, covering around 90% of the civilian sector, and the entire military sector.

  Military Neural Implants differ from civilian versions due to their greater power usage and greater functionality. Neural Implants can network and provide synced battle data, along with the ability to interface with any piece of military hardware such as planes and ground vehicles. Neural Implants can also be used as a communications device, if they are used with a signal amplifier and receiver. This allows, to the casual observer, something akin to telepathy. However, these implants, due to their high power requirements must be driven by a nano-battery instead, and generally have a short lifetime of about five hours, once depleted the batteries can be recharged via the nanogenerators.

  The Paradigm Organization uses extremely advanced Neural Implants for its Paragon operatives. Each Paragon has an implant combined with a PROCEIVER (project-receiver) pack worn on their body. The projector packs act as a signal amplifier for the implants, which can be used by the Paragon to wield something akin to telekinesis. The actual mechanism is via an esoteric property of a projected bosonic field interaction to reverse the Higgs mechanism, which effectively neutralizes the mass of an object. This is combined with the ionization of the object, making it electrically charged, and then its motion can be controlled by manipulation with an electromagnetic field. Using Paragon implants requires a high level of training, and a brain able to operate on a higher level than most humans are capable of, since the PROCEIVER packs are only linear amplifiers, the stronger the mind, the stronger the telekinetic powers. The receiver packs provide feedback to the Paragon via the implant on the state of the bosonic field around them, so they can "feel" their telekinesis. They are powered by a specially developed liquid nano-cell, which requires reactant injection at regular intervals to keep running. The products of the nano-cell reaction are potent hallucinogens, seizure inducers and generally unhealthy when present in the bloodstream. Long term effects of exposure have not been researched.

  The snub-nosed craft flitted stealthily across the desert sands of Arizona. All that gave it away was a trailing plume of sand, highlighted
by the full moon, and the quiet whine of its engine. It was an assault insertion craft, or AIC for short, used for dropping troops off behind enemy lines.

  "Okay lads, we are at the LZ, thank you for flying with us. Please remember to take all personal belongings with you. This includes guns, grenades and all the other shit that you Paragons like to pack, thank you."

  "In-flight food could have been better." Kepp flashed a grin and patted the pilot on the shoulder. "If we're not back by the rendezvous time, don't wait around."

  "You got it," came the reply.

  Kepp turned to Haur and Tenzen, the other two Paragons on this mission and nodded at them. They jumped out of the craft’s hold and landed on soft desert sand. In the far distance, around five kilometers away, the dark shape of the Alpha Cybernetics research facility could be made out against the horizon.