by Rob Aspinall
“And you must be RunRabbit,” she said.
“Run-what?”
“Forgive me,” Nadia said, standing. “It’s the handle we have for you.”
“Who came up with that?” I said.
Nadia shrugged. “You would have preferred something more—?”
“Fearsome, yeah,” I said. “Like, I dunno, War Cry. Spy Warrior. Something like that.”
“Well I must admit, RunRabbit hardly fits the bill. After all, here you are, entering the lion’s den with nothing but a nine millimetre.”
Nadia seemed impossibly young and pint-sized to be warmonger in chief. But then I was hardly the world’s most likely assassin. She invited me to take a seat across from her. I pulled out one of the high-backed leather chairs and plonked myself down. I pulled my wig off my head. I dumped it on the table and let my hair out.
“That’s a relief,” I said, ruffling my fingers through my hair. “It itches like a bitch.” I turned to the screens. “So what's happening?”
“Oh, we're just rolling out an automated police state,” Nadia said.
“This the final phase, is it? ” I said, watching the screens—a mix of news, drone footage and Facebook videos.
Drones were tearing up the world. Dragging people from their cars and homes. Loading them in the back of armed trucks.
Anyone who fought back was shot, tasered or beaten. Anyone with signs of prior infection either rounded up or executed on the spot.
Some groups of people had come together to form a human barricade. Others to protest. They were no match for the drones.
And it was happening all over the world.
It was shocking.
“Can I be honest with you?” Nadia said, tapping a message out on her phone. “There’s another phase.”
“Oh yeah, what's that?” I asked.
“It’s quite clever,” Nadia said. "We’ve been dabbling in neurological priming via some new VR tech. It’s the big game everyone’s playing at the moment.”
“Not Exploding Pigs,” I said.
“That’s the one,”
“Exploding pigs? Seriously?”
“You can’t program a mind by force, Lorna.”
“And what about free will?” I asked.
“Free will disappeared with the television set,” Nadia said. “We ought to know, our predecessors invented it.”
“JPAC invented TV?”
“A mild form of distraction. It brought greater post-war stability and prosperity. Unfortunately, we all have this little thing called the chimp brain. The same forces that drive people to buy microwaves drive them to fight, kill and destroy the environment.”
“So you decided mass enslavement was the way to go?”
“I prefer to look at it as positive auto-suggestion . . . Cookie?” Nadia pushed the plate of cookies my way.
I snatched a choc-chip one off the plate.
“Tea?” Nadia asked, reaching for a stainless steel jug.
“Sure,” I said. “Milk, no sugar.”
Nadia made me a brew in a white mug. I drank half of it to quench my thirst before biting into the cookie.
“Mm,” I said through a full mouth. “These are good.” I pulled my pistol from the holster on my hip. I pointed it at Nadia, my elbow propped on the desk.
Nadia froze in her chair, hands to the heavens.
I studied the cookie. “Is that caramel I taste?”
“Maple syrup,” Nadia said.
“Maple syrup in a cookie, wow.” I chomped my way through the rest of it. “I like you, Nadia. You’re much nicer than the last one.”
“Nathan?” Nadia said. “Annoying shit, wasn’t he?”
“So annoying.”
“You’re welcome, by the way,” she said.
“You ordered the hit?”
Nadia nodded.
“Philippe?” I asked.
Nadia smiled. “The best. Of course.”
“He not here then?” I said, instinctively checking the room.
“We prefer to leave our assets out in the field.”
“You know, it's sad,” I said. “In another life we could have been friends.”
“We still could be,” she said.
I tutted. “Not part of the mission, I'm afraid.”
Nadia let her hands drop. I saw her eyeing her phone. She thought better of it and looked me square in the eye. “So what is this, your Heart of Darkness moment?”
“You what?”
“You here to terminate my command?”
“Something like that,” I said. “Unless of course, you’re willing to call off your drones.”
Nadia laughed. “Not even if I could.”
“Thought as much,” I said, standing out of my chair. I aimed the barrel between Nadia’s eyes. “Damn, I don't wanna do this,” I said.
Nadia remained calm. Surprisingly calm.
I counted down in my head from three. I pulled the trigger on two so I wouldn't wimp out.
The gun went off.
It made Nadia jump.
But it didn’t kill her. She sat there in one living piece.
I studied the barrel. “Blanks?”
“The ground floor's fitted with facial recognition,” Nadia said.
“So you saw me coming,” I said. “Those guards were a setup.”
“I was expecting more of an invading party,” Nadia said. “Don't tell me you're all that’s left.”
“Afraid so,” I said, feeling a little unsteady.
“You feeling okay?” Nadia said, mock concern on her face, her voice slowing and deepening.
The room began to blur. No strength in my legs. I looked at the plate of cookies. “You drugged the cook—” The pistol slipped from my hand. I fell back into my chair.
I heard the door to the room open. A big guy in grey pants and a blue shirt appeared behind me. He had a silver crew cut and a complexion like tinned ham. I noticed a holster on his belt.
He pulled my arms behind the back of the chair. I barely felt his grip. Nadia walked around the table.
This wasn’t a drug that would sedate me, or kill me. It was different. I felt more lucid, but weak. Like I was in a trance.
Nadia stood over me. Well, as much as she ever stood over anyone. “Now Lorna, I’m going to ask you a few questions and you’re going to tell me everything you know.”
38
The Mainframe
Inge and Roni hurried between lines of dormant drones. Inge wanted to ask what exactly they were looking for, but she trusted Roni knew what she was doing.
“Here,” Roni said.
They stopped in front of a ten-by-eight-foot wall of glossy black hard drives with blinking red and green lights. A small screen built into the wall at eye-level, with a keyboard underneath.
Roni tapped on the keys and brought up a black screen full of white code. “The drones work on a grid,” she said. “Each subsection has its own diagnostic terminal. The drones are hooked up for a month prior to roll out.”
“What for?” Inge asked.
“You ever been to Ikea?” Roni said.
“Who hasn’t?” Inge said.
“It’s like the robot arm that works the kitchen drawer open and closed, over and over.”
“So they iron out the kinks before activation,” Inge said.
“You can’t have an army of automated killing machines going nuts,” Roni said. “The mainframe is like the conductor orchestrating the symphony. It operates off a quantum computer with next gen Cloud.”
“I thought quantum computing was years away,” Inge said.
Roni looked up from the screen. “Where'd you read that, the Huff Post?”
“How long do you need?” Inge asked, checking over either shoulder.
“Ten minutes at most.”
“That’s quick.” Inge said.
“Yeah, well I always build a backdoor in for myself.”
“Naughty,” Inge said.
“I’m a black hat,” Roni
said with a shrug. “It’s like asking a cat not to lick its own butt.”
Inge caught sight of four soldiers coming her way, dressed in black. Rifles in hands and pistols on hips.
“You might have to lick a little faster,” she said. “Unfriendliness on its way.”
“Keep them entertained, will you?” Roni said, fingers flying over keys.
“That’s what I’m here for,” Inge said, ghosting away between drones.
39
Ling’s Mission Journal: Part II
Japanese rock plays loud. We walk through the crowds. Everyone taking a break. Zak stares at the girls in costumes. A lot of them skimpy and tight. Some dressed as animals. Other as Manga characters or superheroes.
“This is the single best moment of my life,” Zak says.
“The world’s facing totalitarian genocide and it’s the best moment of your life?” Giles asks.
“So there haven't been many moments,” Zak says, head turning with every girl who walks past.
I click my fingers. “Zak. Focus.”
Zak snaps to attention. “Yes sir . . . Miss . . . Whatever.”
We stop at the foot of the stage.
“Where do you want to set up?” Akihiro asks.
Zak points to a podium on stage. “There’s good. I’ll just need the equipment we asked for.”
Akihiro nods. Calls over two of his friends—young guys. One with a laptop. The other with an iPad and a tray of DreamPlay glasses.
Zak runs through the specs of the laptop. “Sixteen terabyte? Two-fifty-six gigabit? NAND flash chip?”
The young guy with the laptop nods at each question.
“Awesome,” Zak says, taking the laptop off him.
We step onto the stage and Zak sets up the laptop, connects the iPad with a USB and slips on the DreamPlay glasses. “Okay, listen dude,” he says to Akihiro. “If our people in Denver succeed, everyone gets an access code that will patch them in. The network will assign them a number. If they crash and burn, they automatically hop onto another number. But they’ll need to wait a second for the game to reload, get it?”
“Got it,” Akihiro says. “I’ll make the announcement.”
Zak grabs Akihiro by the arm. “One more thing,” he says, glancing at me. “You got any Red Bull? Whatever happens, I must not fall asleep.”
40
Spanner In The Works
Inge disarmed the soldiers bare-handed. It took her two seconds to put down three, but the fourth dodged a bullet and disappeared between drones.
She ran along the line to the end of the row.
The soldier was a tall, athletic man with a shaved head. He ran free through the fire exit at the end of the floor.
Inge double-backed and found Roni. “Are we any closer?”
“Nearly there,” Roni said.
“Well the word’s out, so expect more company,” Inge said.
“Sending the access code now,” Roni said.
Inge watched both ways, a stolen SIG in either hand. “Understood,” she said, shooting two soldiers at the end of the row with her lefthand weapon. Another oncoming pair with her righthand pistol.
“I’ve sent the access code,” Roni said.
Inge dropped the pistols and brought a strapped automatic rifle around to her front. “Ready to move?”
“Give me a second,” Roni said, typing out a screen full of complex code. “Gotta lock this shit in place.”
“I’ll give you ten,” Inge said, preparing the rifle. “Then we’re gone.”
Inge backed up behind a steel pillar at the end of the row, giving her cover and visibility both ways. She let off a burst of fire from the rifle. The sound deafening. Automatic rounds chasing approaching soldiers into the stacks of powered-down drones.
“Ready!” Roni shouted. “Let’s go.”
“That might be a problem,” Inge said.
A ten-strong posse of security rushed to the scene. Heavily armed, they formed a barrier.
“Shit,” Roni said, eyes zipping left to right in thought. “Wait a minute,” she said, returning to the keyboard. “I’ve got an idea.”
“Not another one,” Inge yelled, returning fire.
“What does that mean?” Roni said.
“Your last idea got us into this mess.”
“Well the next one is gonna get us out of it,” Roni said, shaking her head. “Jeez . . . Everyone’s a fucking critic.”
41
Ling’s Mission Journal: Part III
Everyone’s ready. Thousands waiting in silence. DreamPlay glasses on. Phones and iPads in hand. The giant screen broadcasting a live feed of a hundred different kids. Some together in their front rooms. Others alone in their bedrooms. All with their own gaming devices. All with Exploding Pigs on standby. The feed cycles randomly. Thousands around the world. Zak waiting at the laptop, drinking Red Bull mixed with black coffee. DreamPlay glasses pushed onto his head. I wait on stage with Akihiro and Giles.
DreamPlay glasses of our own, connected to our smartphones. Zak raises an arm. “Shit, here it is, ” he says. “G-man, your girlfriend is a genius.”
Giles blushes. Shy and proud at the same time.
“Putting the code up on screen,” Zak says.
A six digit code flashes up on the giant screen. BN4 75J.
We all tap the code into our devices.
“Ready for countdown,” Akihiro says through the mic. “Five, four . . .”
Everyone counting with him. “Three, two, one . . .”
I slip my glasses on and focus my energy. The ‘Connecting’ message falls away. So do the rainbow of pigs in front of me.
I’m dropped into the body of a drone. A UAV jet flying over a war-torn skyline—a full-on drone invasion underway.
Looks like Budapest.
I killed a man there once. Had goulash after. It was so-so.
I bank upwards, then left and right, getting a feel for the controls. I see the gaming interface bring up weapons. I test a couple of them, A left fist—bullets. A right fist—rocket.
Okay, I’ve got this.
I punch out of the clouds. See two other drones below me. Each with a colour-coded band around them.
Friendlies are blue.
Enemies are red.
There’s one of each. Blue on the tail of red. Blue takes out red. I dive-bomb out of the sky and level off low over the city. I target an enemy UAV. I lock on. Squeeze my right fist. The rocket deploys. The target takes evasive action. The rocket chases it left and right.
It destroys the target.
A pig waddles across the screen. Explodes into coins and rainbows.
I chase down two enemy heli-drones.
My monitors signal another drone locking onto me. I bank left and up, roll over to the right and dive low. It stays on my tail. Then I see a missile shoot past me from the ground. Out of a friendly canine drone. It takes out the chasing UAV. I sweep the area. The ground is a mess of fighting humanoids and fleeing people. Half carrying injuries from the spread of X21.
I spin around for another turn, targeting multiple humanoids.
But I’m blasted out of the sky by an unseen enemy.
A yellow pig shakes his ass at me. A message in Japanese: Haha. You’re Dead! Lots of piglets appear. They cry sarcastically.
The game reloads but there’s a delay. I push my glasses away from my eyes. See an arena full of kids fighting invisible battles.
Some punch. Some kick. Some shoot with fingers shaped as guns. Others cheer as they take down an enemy, or get angry and wait for the next hop.
I see Zak and Giles and Akihiro in battles of their own. Look to the big screen where girls and boys of all races play at home. And a dozen news broadcasts show global drone warfare.
I hear a blip in my ear. “Player Ready,” in a deep Japanese voice. I slip the glasses back over my eyes and see the streets of downtown Beijing. I look up and down the street from the centre of the road.
People stand around. Some vi
deo the scene on their phones.
Two humanoids step in and drag a pair of old men off their feet.
A woman shouts and flaps. Another drone knocks her unconscious and uses an arm taser to put down a young guy.
A self-driving truck pulls up and the drone tries to herd the people towards it. I raise my right arm and make a fist. An RPG detaches from my shoulder and takes out the truck. I run fast at the other drone. It turns to engage. I jump and drive my fist through its visor. It wobbles. I pull its camera unit from its neck. I kick it to the floor and drop its head to the asphalt.
Two more enemies come at me with automatic fire. One of them turns blue. It turns its gun on the head of the other.
I jump on another enemy and beat it to the ground.
This is pretty addictive, like the fruit slicing game.
42
The Truth & Anything But
“You’re hiding something, Lorna,” Nadia said. “What is it?”
Being on the truth drug was weird. It’s like, you knew you didn’t want to say something, but you couldn’t stop yourself. Like trying to stop a bar of soap slipping through your fingers.
“Come on, Lorna,” Nadia said.
No, Lorn. Don’t—
“I kissed a girl once,” I said. “And I kinda liked it.”
Ah, crap.
“Isn’t that a song?” the man restraining me said.
“It was Becki. We were besties but now we’re frenemies.”
“She’s employing some kind of diversion technique. Vasquez’s training must still be in there,” Nadia said, tapping my right temple. She leaned in closer, hands on the arms of the chair. “Tell the truth, Lorna. What do you know that we don’t?”
“I was a double agent for a while,” I said.
“MI6? CIA?” the guy said.
“No, silly billy,” I said. “Batting for both sides. Now I’m in love with a boy called Alex.” I broke into a dreamy smile. “He’s so lovely . . .”
“She’s talking gibberish,” the guy said.
