Syn City: Reality Bytes
A Havenworld Novel
By Bard Constantine
Syn city and all related characters and properties are © Copyright 2018 Bard
Constantine. All rights reserved.
Syn City: Reality Bytes is a work of fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious, and any resemblance to real people or events is purely coincidental.
This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author/publisher.
Help stop piracy. If you believe this novel was made available by illegal means, please report it to the author at http://bardwritesbooks.com
Cover design by Danielle Fine (https://www.daniellefine.com/)
Other Books in the Havenworld Universe
❖ Havenworld
❖ Silent Empire
❖ The Troubleshooter: Four Shots
❖ The Troubleshooter: New Haven Blues
❖ The Troubleshooter: The Most Dangerous Dame
❖ Vigil: Knight in Cyber Armor
❖ Nimrod Squad
After the Cataclysm nearly wiped out humanity, the remnants of humanity survived in Havens: city-sized constructs built to reboot society and usher in a new age of humankind.
However, the new age was not the type the architects had envisioned. The same greed and lust for power that existed before the Cataclysm resurfaced and the Havens quickly became quagmires of political and economic conflict, threatening to destroy the future envisioned by their founders.
This is the world of a pair of troubled individuals: Specter: a thief and hustler addicted to digital existence and targeted by government task forces and corporate watchdogs because of his extrasensory abilities. And Enigma: a former rebel turned slave soldier for Cyber Corp, an agency that specializes in tracking down the most dangerous threats in the world. They have little in common, but their paths lead to the same destination. A place where their talents can be utilized for good, or completely turned against them.
Welcome to
Chapter 1: 5P3CT3R
Tonight, I dine with the enemy.
Enigma sits beside me in the sushi bar. Brightly lit, crowded with the lunchtime rush of customers. Orders are placed via an interactive interface and delivered on a tiny conveyor to the appropriate customer at the counter. I picked the place because I don't trust her. There's less chance of things getting violent in such a public atmosphere.
"You're a hard man to find."
My order arrives. Spider and dragon rolls. Appropriate in the presence of predators.
I remove the tray from the conveyor and bite into a spider roll, savoring the taste of soft-shell crab, cucumber, and avocado. "Yeah. Well, when you're in the crosshairs of the HSSC and mega-corporations like Maximillian Industries you tend to take the necessary precautions."
Enigma has an angular face and silvery-white shoulder-length hair. Gray eyes glimmer her from sooty lashes like dirty ice. She sips water with lemon and ignores the rainbow roll on the tray in front of her studying me with a nearly unnerving intensity.
"You're a symbiont. A man possessing abilities that normal people don't. People fear what they don't understand."
"Sometimes they have good reason to."
Sunglasses hide my eyes, but I'm wearing them for more than the cool factor. They operate as scanners and threat detectors. I know Enigma is unarmed. I know she registers as human, not a synoid. I see no one else in the bar who identifies as a hazard. Which means she came alone as promised.
I still can't shake the feeling that something is wrong. I take another bite and try to appear casual. Just a man enjoying a meal with a beautiful stranger.
"What do you know about symbionts?"
She scoots slightly over and leans so that her face was only inches away from mine, lowering her to a near whisper in my ear.
"I know that at any given moment, there are upwards of fifty million synthetic humanoids operating in the United Havens and surrounding Territories, only distinguishable from humans by an identifying scan. They can do anything we can do but faster and more efficiently. Their only restrictions are unbreakable parameters that prevent them from physically hurting humans or allowing them to be hurt."
I give her a sidelong glance. The freckles on her face are barely visible up close, like raindrops on a pane of glass. For some reason the imperfections make her look more attractive. There's a sensual curve to her lips when she smiles.
"And people like you can hijack them."
I take a sip of ginger beer, unable to stop the wry grin that spreads across my face. "There aren't any people like me."
"Not many, anyway." Enigma leans back, studying me with a finger tapping her chin. Her nails are uneven. I suspect she bites them.
"You're one of the estimated .005 percent of humans that have the potential for extrasensory talents. Most go their entire lives without realizing their advantage. Others use their abilities subconsciously, developing the uncanny skill of 'reading' other people, guessing what's on the minds of others. They use their limited skills to better themselves, stay a step ahead of whatever pursuits they're engaging. But in the end, they attribute their gifts to simply paying more than average attention, being skilled at anticipating the thoughts of people around them."
"Congrats. You've done your homework."
She smiles. "Then, there's you. A true symbiont. How do you do it?"
I nearly break into an explanation when I catch myself. Enigma is good at disarming conversation, and there's the bonus of her being startlingly beautiful. She almost had me.
"Why don't we just cut to the chase, Enigma? We set this meeting up because you said you had a job for me."
Disappointment flashes across her face so quickly that I'm unsure if I actually saw it. She recovers just as fast.
"Look—I have to know if you're the real deal. A lot is riding on this. The stakes are astronomical, especially if we fail. I need to be sure that you're the man for the job."
"What do you want, a demonstration?"
"That's exactly what I want."
"Where?"
"Here."
I glance around. The bar is full to bursting with patrons eating, talking, laughing. Not one of them registers as anything but human.
Enigma follows my gaze. "Maximillian Industries just produced their latest models of synoids. Nexus 10. Completely undetectable by common scanners."
My eyes widen. "Wait a minute—you're saying that some of these people are synoids? No way."
"No. Not some." Enigma raises her arm, smiles at me, then snaps her fingers.
Everyone in the room stops in mid-motion. Expressions frozen, bodies stiff. The bar goes eerily silent. I can't believe my eyes. Just like that, I walked into a trap.
I leap to my feet, backing away from Enigma. "Who the hell are you?"
She raises her hands, showing me the cy-gear strapped to her palm. Her face is composed, her voice soothing. "It's a hack. A program I wrote myself. Calm down. I'm not a threat to you, Dean."
My heart nearly explodes from my chest. "How do you know that name? Are you an Agent? You're HSSC, aren't you?"
"Try not to panic, Specter. That's the name you prefer, isn't it? The answer is no; I'm not an Agent. I don't work for any agency trying to hunt you down. But I have been trying to find you for a long time."
I whirl around, looking for the armored stormtroopers or suite
d Agents. Outside the sushi bar, life continues undisturbed. People outside walk by, oblivious. Talk to friends, adjust their holovisors, sit on benches in the plaza and eat their lunch.
"You see, Specter? We're alone here. No one is coming to get you. I just want to talk."
I turn to her, a smile tugging at the corner of my mouth. My fingers clench into fists. "You want to see what I can do? I'll show you."
And as I speak, I core-jack the nearest synoid. There is a rush of white noise and blue light, then I achieve symbiosis and gaze out from my new host. My original body freezes in place next to Enigma; eyes rolled back in the skull. I lift my dainty little fingers and clamber out of my chair in the form of a nine-year-old Chinese girl. Enigma stares at me in shock.
I place my hands on my hips and speak in my little girl voice. "There are other symbionts, but I'm better than most. I've sharpened my skills so that I can project my consciousness into the brain core of any synoid in the vicinity."
The girl freezes in place when I switch to an elderly man by the window. I turn to Enigma, exposing my dentures in a wide grin. My voice wheezes when I talk. "Their synthetic brains are constructed as near-exact replicas of our own. The fact that they're artificial is what makes core-jacking possible."
I swap cores again, this time into a muscular man in gym clothes. Standing up, I walk toward Enigma. "The human mind has automatic defenses, subconsciously resisting if an attempt is made to intrude. But the synoid brain lacks the intuitive instinct to resist a psionic takeover. And once I'm inside, I can do anything I want. Override their directives so that they can harm humans."
My hand shoots out, seizing Enigma by the throat. "Even take a life, if you force me to."
She stares at me, making no move to resist. I can feel the pulse in her neck, the quickening of her heart. She's afraid. With a synoid's superior strength, I can snap her bones with ease, and she knows it. The fear shimmers in her eyes, but she only clenches her jaw in determination.
"Are you going to kill me, Specter? Without even knowing why I called you here?"
I cast myself from the synoid into my original body, steadying myself as a wave of dizziness follows. I shake my head, dispelling the queasiness.
Enigma realizes what happens and moves to pry the fingers still latched to her throat. "Wait, Specter. Don't run. You'll only make it harder on yourself."
I pause just long enough to shoot her a scornful glance. "I knew I couldn't trust you. You're too damn pretty."
Whirling around, I vault over a table and run out the door, bumping into a pair of giggling teenagers. I shove them aside and run across the plaza, ignoring their angry shouts. I'm more concerned when a squad of black suits dashes around the corner. They have identical haircuts and sunglasses. A tall, slender Sentry leads them. Dressed in all-black, he is shaved bald, cybernetics winking from his head and the visor covering his eyes. His skin is chalk-white, his lips blood red. Sentries all have that vampire look, and it creeps me out every time. He points a black-gloved hand my direction.
"Take him."
I skid to a stop, turn, and run the other direction. The plaza is just a blur—brightly lit boutique signs, neatly arranged food court tables, tiny park squares with cloned foliage. People stop and stare or leap out the way as I dart past with my pursuers hot on my heels.
The exit door at the far end bursts open, admitting a squad of black-armored troopers. I don't hesitate. Turning, I race across the plaza center, leaping across a marble fountain. From the corner of my eye, I see Enigma emerge from the sushi shop. She says something, but I ignore her. Running at top speed, I leap toward the massive windows on the other side. The plaza is on the one hundred fifty-first floor of the Grand Center Tower, but I don't think about that when I launch myself at the glass. If I were flesh and blood, I would rebound off the gleaming surface without so much of a crack.
But I'm better.
With an explosive boom, I smash through like a rock thrown through a bedroom window. A million glittering shards shower down as the sheer volume of the world outside the building swallows me. The lights are insanely bright—neon everywhere, holographic advertisements, news and information scrolling across towering giants of glass and alloy. Flying traffic whirs by so fast that the vehicles look like laser lights. I'm a speck in a city that blazes too bright to notice, a meteor falling unnoticed across a sky blinded by light pollution.
Fifteen seconds later, my body explodes against concrete.
The connection severs. I blink and sit up in the sensory tub, removing the virtual goggles and oxygen mask while transparent fluid receptors drip from my body. Exiting the tub, I step in the vacuum shower, where the remaining liquid sensors lift from my skin and plaster onto the glass walls. They slide down, pool onto the floor, and whirl into the floor drain to be recycled back into the tub.
I slip into my clothes as I step out the vacuum shower into my ultra-luxury suite.
Interactive globe bed in one corner. Polished dark teak floors, coffee shelving, marigold furnishings. Black granite soaking tub in the marble-tiled bathroom to the side. Floor-to-ceiling windows display a magnificent view of the city: soaring towers, neon lights, art deco architecture blurring the lines between past and present. Fully loaded tech nook in another corner, projecting a holographic display of the latest news and info into the center of the room. I walked through the projection, canceling the feed. A massive mirror faces me from the opposite side of the room. A tall, well-built man reflects from the glass. Hair like wet ink, chiseled cheekbones, strong jawline, piercing blue eyes. My lie. My illusion.
"Did something go wrong?"
Hel lounges on a velvet chaise in a clinging nightgown; raven hair shimmering, a flute of champagne in hand. Anticipating a victory, she's dressed for the occasion.
I quickly pass her, going to the tech nook. "It was a setup. Cyber Corp was there."
She leaps to her feet, clothing changing in a snap. Now she's in blue and black tactical armor, a flak helmet on her head. "Cyber Corp? Are you sure?"
"A Sentry was on the grounds, Hel—a Sentry. You know what that means. Cyber Corp is on to me."
"What about your host?"
I type a coding sequence into the computer. "I couldn't save it. Jumped out a building, but they still might be able to salvage something. I'm scrubbing this safehouse. Transfer everything to the next one."
"I told you I should have been there to watch your back."
"And I told you that wasn't an option. I'm the only one who can core-jack."
She joins me in the hub, opening the transfer program on the other computer. "Where are we going?"
"Final Falls."
"Wouldn't it be better to go underground?"
"We're already underground. The whole point of being an Immerser is going anywhere you want."
"Except here."
"I can't take the risk of being tagged. They’re probably running a trace right now."
"Well if that's the case you have to reboot completely."
I sigh. "Yeah. Gotta face the real world."
She pats my cheek. "It will only be for a little while. I'll have everything set up when you get back."
"Good." I open the interface on the holoband on my wrist, projecting the memory feed from my previous host. Freezing the frame on Enigma's face, I tap the projection and slid it over to Hel.
"Find out who she is."
Hel purses her lips. "She's beautiful. Should I be jealous?"
"She's with Cyber Corp. She knew my name, Hel. My real name. I don't know how, but I need to turn the tables and find out everything about her."
Hel's outfit transforms into ninja garb, all-black stealth suit equipped with swords and other killing blades. Her eyes narrow. "I'll get on it."
"Thanks. I'll see you soon."
She grabs my face and kisses me fiercely. I surrender to her aggression, my arms wrapped tightly around her waist.
She's smiling when she pulls away. "Love you with everything, Dea
n."
"Love you too. With everything."
I tap the confirmation code, and everything vanishes. The entire penthouse dissipates like a dream and Hel along with it. I'm left in a void of endless white, where nothing exists but me. A washout of suffocating isolation that unnerves me every time. I'm relieved when my holoband flashes and a voice speaks through the datcom in my ear.
"Syncing with the master host in three…two…one."
The world goes dark.
I blink my eyes open, wincing from the harsh blades of light that slash my corneas. My skin explodes with the awakening, goosebumps prickling from the refrigerated air. I gasp out gusts of vapor, clouding the viewport in front of my face. Lifting my trembling, emaciated arm, I tap the green button on the side of the Deep Sleep pod. The door hisses open, creating billows of steam when the frigid air meets the humidity outside.
The sensory jack is unplugged from the port behind my ear and the endotracheal hose extracts from my mouth, setting my throat on fire and inducing a gag reflex. For a few desperate minutes, all I can do is cough repeatedly. When the heaving finally subsides, the feeding tube is removed from my stomach by a whip-thin medical robot. I close my eyes as I'm sewn up, nearly overwhelmed by a massive headache, severe nausea, and a bad case of the chills. The robotic nurse finishes its examination, throws a tattered blanket around me, and declares me fit for social integration. Leaving a worn yellow jumpsuit on a rusty tabletop, it wheels away.
Shuddering, I step out of the vertical pod. My legs give way immediately, and I crash to the metal grating, puking my guts out. There isn’t much to vomit, but I feel slightly better when I sit up. Leaning back against the pod, I wrap the blanket around my shoulders and shiver uncontrollably.
The facility is dim and noisy. Loud clanging sounds echo in the massive warehouse, hissing emits from the thousands of pods like a den of angry snakes, expelling vapor in the air that creates a permanent haze. Condensation drips from the overheads, creating tracks of water on the floor, dropping through the rusty grating.
Syn City- Reality Bytes Page 1
