Prototype

by Gretchen de La O

  “What day are you coming to California? I’ll need your flight information. I assume I’ll be picking you up.” He looked at me and without missing a beat he answered.

  “Alejandro’s sending a car—don’t worry about me. He’s sending one for you, too.” I watched his eyes and searched for a hidden answer he didn’t want to give.

  “Wait, I called my mom and told her to come pick me up. It’s been too long since I’ve seen her.” He didn’t look too comfortable with my choice, but I guess he decided to pick his battles with me today. He broke off, pulled his cell phone from his belt and made a call.

  I took advantage of him being occupied to grab my bag from my bedroom and finish packing some essentials in my carryon. By the time I grabbed the tickets with the new driver’s license and put my bags by the front door, Marshall was off the phone and ready to head out.

  We arrived at National Airport by seven thirty. I was already irritated by the fact that Marshall wanted me to be stuck waiting three hours before I could board my flight. I fumbled for my tickets and drivers license and handed them to the ticket agent.

  “Did you enjoy your stay in our nation’s capital, Miss Turnbuckle?” The words that squeaked from her mouth were something I was not mentally prepared to hear. It was only when I looked up at her did I realize that she was addressing me.

  Caught off guard, I answered her question. “Oh—um, yeah I did. Thanks for asking.”

  “You must be excited to get home to California,” she said rhetorically and continued, “well, I would like to thank you for flying with us on Northwest Airlines.” She handed me my ticket and smiled. I smiled back. I didn’t want to spend any more time dealing with this … I just wanted to be done.

  After I collected my carryon and laptop and pushed on my shoes, I rushed to my gate. Once I arrived in the waiting area, I pulled out my phone and glanced at the time―over two hours to kill I was determined to look at the situation as the cup was half full; I leaned up against the wall opposite my gate and dialed my mom. She answered after two rings. I spent the first couple of minutes warding off her worried relationship questions before enduring an exhausting one-way conversation about her job, computer problems, my social life, and all the things she wanted to do while I was back home. I managed to get a couple of words in edgewise though and tell her I needed to cut it short and call my dad. Needless to say, after the short conversation with my dad, I was officially homesick. Considering I haven’t been back to California in over a couple of years … it makes me ache for brisk summer days and foggy mornings. It totally sucked that both conversations only burnt up thirty minutes and caused me to crave seafood.

  It wasn’t until the information on the flight board started flashing that the conversation I had with the ticket agent popped back into my head. Did you enjoy your stay in our nation’s capital, Miss Turnbuckle?—Turnbuckle? You must be excited to get home—home?—my ticket—where is my ticket? Finding it in the side pocket of my carryon, I pulled it out and flipped it over. The license, heavier than the ticket, slid out.

  CALIFORNIA DRIVER LICENSE

  MARTHA ALLISON TURNBUCKLE

  2901 VALLEJO STREET

  SAN FRANCISCO, CA 94123

  I pulled out the ticket Marshall gave me and looked at it. It was a one-way flight to San Francisco. My heart climbed into my throat. What was he planning? Millions of thoughts ran through my head, but only one stuck … he didn’t expect me to come back. A one-way ticket meant one of two things. Either he was thinking I would be killed or he expected me to stay on the west coast. Neither option was okay with me.

  I got up and paced over to the other side of the crowded gate and focused on the blinking cursor in my peripheral vision. It was truly amazing how I didn’t even see the cursor anymore. I mumbled “Call Samantha Wilkins.” Suddenly her file came up and the phone icon lit green. It started to ring and like always, the graphic equalizer appeared as it recorded the tones. She answered after the third ring.

  “Hi Lauren, is everything ok?” I could hear a hint of concern.

  “No, everything is not ok,” I whispered. “I am standing here in the airport looking at my ticket, and—” I stopped before I gave to much information.

  “What is it Lauren?”

  I looked around the airport to make sure I didn’t look too crazy talking to myself.

  “Tell me what Marshall’s plans are—for me,” I demanded.

  “What do you mean?” Her voice rang in my head.

  “Come on, Sam, he must’ve told you what is going to happen to me in California. I’m tired of being treated like an idiot!” My face flushed hot and my ears burned warm.

  “Calm down, what’s going on—what happened?”

  “Marshall gave me a one-way ticket to San Francisco and a California issued license.” There was a long silence on the other end of the connection.

  “I am sorry, Lauren, I don’t know what to say, you need to talk to Marshall,” she said before our connection was gone.

  I was confused; one minute she wanted to help me and then the next she was convoluted and cold. I was truly at a loss. The only thing she had been adamant about was reading the mission file she downloaded in my head. Without wasting any more time, I opened the file and scanned it until I saw a tab labeled mission. I focused on it and let the information wash over me. I wanted the information on the page to talk to me as I read the first line.

  THE OBJECTIVE OF THIS MISSION IS TO ACCESS SPARTACUS INDUSTRIES MAINFRAME COMPUTER, PENETRATE THEIR ENCRYPTION SYSTEM AND DOWNLOAD THE FILE LABELED: VISIONARY INSPIRATION SF/2013.

  I flinched as a voice interrupted my concentration.

  “Good morning, ladies and gentleman. At this time we would like to start pre-boarding …” I minimized the file and grabbed my carryon. Out of the corner of my eye I spotted the Washington Times on the table. Scooping up the newspaper, I slid it under my arm. After the ticket agent scanned my boarding pass, I walked down the ramp and boarded the plane.

  When I reached my seat in first class, I stuffed the newspaper in the front pouch and handed my bag to the stewardess. The one thing Marshall always did right was get first class tickets when I had to fly. He always traveled that way and he made sure I did, too. I slipped into my oversized chair and pulled down the footrest. I wanted to relax, but the file that I had minimized called to me. “Maximize file,” I muttered under my breath. It came up and I surfed through the words until I got to the place I left off and began to read again.

  ONCE YOU’VE PROCURED THE FILE DESTROY ITS EXISTENCE ON SI’S MAINFRAME. LEAVE NO EVIDENCE.

  *** IF COMPROMISED IN ANY WAY ABORT MISSION*** FIND A CLEAN HOUSE AND INITIATE CONTACT. THIS MISSION IS NOT TO BE TAKEN CASUALLY. YOUR LIFE IS IN DANGER.

  I stopped; I had to back up and process what I just read. Not the part about my life being in danger, that comes with the job, but the part that I have to destroy the file on the mainframe computer at SI. My expectation for this mission was unclear. Now I was taking a file from this Alejandro guy instead of leaving one.

  I was bemused by all of the conversations I had with Marshall. He had told me that he was selling the technology to Alejandro. I had to go to California to demonstrate its abilities. Alejandro would modify the computer and sell it off. He had told me that Roger’s computer would be in everyone’s head. It didn’t add up. What was Marshall not telling me? Then the conversations I had with Samantha came back to me.

  All the images came crashing down, suffocating me in the memories of her actions, replicating in my mind what she must have done. She was the one that downloaded the file in my head before Marshall came to see me. She was always secretive when the three of us were together. Come to think of it, since she downloaded the file into my head, the three of us hadn’t been together at the same time. She added the mission document and ordered my ticket and driver license. What other data did she tamper with in that file? How much of this does Marshall know?

  The words of Doctor Finway rage
d in my head … don’t trust anyone. Who am I going to turn to? I can’t trust anyone now. Marshall had threatened my family and every word out of Sam’s mouth has been a lie. I pulled the newspaper from the pouch in front of me and opened it to the obituaries. There it was, third entry down on the left side. Roger Fredrick Clarke. I didn’t read any further. I couldn’t bring myself to have the pain of his death invade my soul again.

  “He’s dead; Roger’s gone,” I sobbed out loud, finally grasping that he was never coming back; I will never see him again. My heart was invaded, striped and ripped apart. My mind began to spiral down into a dark lonesome place, a place I had been carefully avoiding since the day I heard him murdered.

  “Miss, are you okay? Is there something I can do to help you?” A shallow voice consoled me.

  There was something familiar about that voice. Somehow, some way, I knew that voice. I felt a deep, warm sense of safety and familiarity before I even saw who it was. I looked across the aisle and our eyes met. I couldn’t believe who I saw. It couldn’t be—I heard him die … he was dead. I just read the evidence that filled a space in the obituaries was incorrect; I had to be crazy. I blinked several times, pushing my hands to my eyes, rubbing the irrational thoughts that he could even be on the flight. When I looked at him … he was real.

  “Roger!” I screamed as I bolted at him and wrapped my arms around his neck. I didn’t want to let go, I didn’t want anything to take away the comfort I had just found. I was afraid he wasn’t real. A cruel hallucination I didn’t understand.

  “Hey, ouch—your squeezing me, I—can’t—breathe,” he complained with a smile.

  This has to be a dream, I know I’m dreaming!

  “How? —You’re alive—when? Oh my God, I am so glad you’re here. I am so—” I couldn’t find the words fast enough. My body went limp and I broke down and wept in his arms. It was Roger in the flesh and blood.

  His arms released me and let my feet touch the floor, but I wasn’t ready to let go. I felt a hand that didn’t belong to either of us rub my back and a voice I didn’t recognize spoke.

  “We are getting ready for takeoff. I have to ask you both to please find your seats.” I was in shock; he was with me on this flight, alive.

  “Lauren, you never came to my office the next day. I had to assume you were in trouble.”

  “Well, I was in trouble; I tried to connect with you but the computer said you were—I just took care of myself.” I heard my voice go low and dry.

  Roger was sitting across the aisle from me. I just wanted to hear him speak. I wanted to be comfortable again, I needed that. He leaned toward me. “Lauren, I’m sorry you had to go through that. I didn’t have enough time to warn you. I had to die to save my life.”

  I leaned into him as he spoke and it was like I never lost him.

  “Why? What happened?”

  “Someone wants me dead. They even hired an assassin to do it; but I beat him to the punch, he found me dead. I heard the guy talking to someone on his phone, saying he finished me off.” Goosebumps broached my skin.

  “Who do you think it is?” People’s faces began to flash in my head.

  “I don’t know. I can’t worry about it, we don’t have much time before arriving in California and we have a lot to catch up on.”

  As always, he was good at changing the subject and I just went along.

  The plane pulled from the runway, pressure pushed heavy on my body. The nose of the jet heightened and we were in the air, a huge sense of relief washed over my body.

  “Roger, do you know a woman named Samantha?” I asked.

  He thought for a moment before he answered me.

  “Yeah, I do. She was someone that Marshall brought in to help with the job.” He sounded tired.

  “You don’t sound like you are too enthusiastic about her,” I answered quickly.

  “No it’s not that, we need to spend the limited time we have getting you ready for the meeting with the buyer in California,” he growled.

  “Roger you need to know, I think Samantha downloaded different plans in my head. Marshall talked about selling this to a guy named Alejandro.” He looked down at his hands. I noticed a small surge of energy jolt his body when I said Alejandro. “The document I read said I had to download a file off SI’s mainframe then destroy any evidence that it ever existed on their computer.” He stared in my eyes catching up with what I just said.

  “Lauren, do you mind if I access the file?” he asked as his voice pressed the sober words at me.

  “I don’t mind, but how? Where are you going to do this?” I asked. He thought for a moment before he answered me.

  “When I created the prototype, I installed an encrypted Wi-Fi connection. It will basically let us to transfer files over a short distance. I’m going to go to the lavatory, meet me there.” He unbuckled his seatbelt and carefully sauntered down the aisle.

  I watched which door he entered and then followed him a couple of minutes later. I looked around and noticed nobody paid attention to us. I lightly knocked on the first class lavatory door.

  Roger spoke first.

  “This is what I’m going to do. I have a program on my prototype that allows me to take control and access the file in your head. I’m going to read what she installed. I have the original file in my head so if they are different, I can tell.”

  Holy shit, was I really going to let him have complete control of my head?

  “Wait, Roger. Is there a way we could transfer the file? No offense, but I have had too many people in my head lately. I would prefer if you just downloaded it onto your comp- prototype,” I stated, trying to be diplomatic.

  “Sure, but it will take a little longer being that we are up twenty-five thousand feet. You might want to make yourself comfortable,” he answered. I hopped onto the tiny counter and waited.

  “It might take up to ten minutes. Ok?” he confirmed.

  “Yeah—Okay,” I answered as I accessed the file.

  He was right; it took the whole ten minutes to download. I guess Wi-Fi just isn’t the same in the stratosphere. It could have been all the images and documents, which was a pretty immense file. I was a little uncomfortable sitting on the small counter when the temperature in the crowded lavatory was smothering. I could feel my skin become sultry and sweat beads collected around my hairline and back of my neck. I was grateful he was alive and with me.

  File Transfer Complete appeared across my vision at the same time Roger broke the trance between us. He was exceedingly superior when he navigated through his computer; I felt odd trying to keep up and understand what he was doing. Maybe allowing him to access my head would have worked better.

  “Sorry, Lauren, but I want to compare the files. If I’m able to figure out the difference, we can plan our next step. Head back to your seat; I’ll follow you in a couple of minutes, so it doesn’t look like you just joined the mile high club,” Roger said, bemused. Even through all of this, he was able to bring a smile to my face.

  I punched him before I unlocked the lavatory door and slowly swung it open. I was embarrassed to notice a person waiting for the restroom. Lucky enough the door next to mine opened at the same time and the person waiting chose the other lavatory instead of mine.

  Roger came back a couple of minutes later, just like he said and sat across the aisle from me. He twitched his head, asking me to lean in. We stretched to meet in the middle without leaving our seats.

  “Lauren, I looked over the file and found the document that Sam uploaded. It is not part of the original. It was created yesterday at five forty-five pm. All of the original documents and files are dated November fifteenth, two thousand thirteen. That means she embedded the document for you to see after Marshall gave her the file.” His brow furrowed.

  “That means, she has to be working for someone else or Marshall is changing his plans without telling me,” I responded.

  We sat for a minute, looking at each other but not seeing each other. Our minds i
n deep thought, almost like we were competing to see who could figure out the missing pieces of this mind-boggling puzzle first.

  He convinced the man next to me to change seats. Roger always had an attentive manor. I was relieved our conversation would be a little more private, and I had to admit my neck did feel better.

  “You know Doctor Finway’s dead, right?” I blurted out, hoping he could tell me that Finway faked his death too. Roger’s face turned white and twisted in anguish. I guess he really was dead.

  “I saw it on the news. It was my fault. If I didn’t push him into helping me, he wouldn’t have killed himself.” He looked down.

  I could see his entire demeanor change. He suddenly became very heavy and his shoulders rounded. I had to stop him from his guilt-looming thoughts. I interrupted his meltdown.

  “Roger, he didn’t kill himself, he was murdered.” He looked up at me, his eyes shallow and wet. “I was on the phone with him and this thing in my head recorded it.” I was taken aback at how matter of fact these words came out of my mouth. It felt like he was murdered eons ago; however, it had been less than forty-eight hours.

  “I didn’t know that. I’m sorry. I wish I could have been there for you. I’m so sorry.” His voice filled with warmth that wrapped completely around my heart, cradling it in true remorse.

  “I know this might be the wrong time to ask, but I would like to access that file.” He was delicate, almost apologetic.

  “Right now? I don’t know, Roger,” I retorted.

  “No worries, I’m sorry I even asked. It was insensitive of me.” Roger shifted in his seat. The horrific yells and sounds of his murder were too fresh in my mind. I feared reliving the experience might tilt my mind into being unhinged forever. I was always able to compartmentalize parts of my mind; today I didn’t have the propensity. I wasn’t ready to take a chance.