I gasp. "Dabria?"
"Are you surprised?" Her voice is the same; smoky as Scotch whiskey, carrying hints of a Middle-Eastern accent.
"How…is this possible?"
"Your left eye. When Cyber Corp replaced it, they installed a camera so they can see everything you do. I merely took advantage of their implant by mentally splicing into their signal."
"Mentally? You mean like telepathy?"
"You don’t remember? I used to send you messages like this on missions when communication was impossible."
I wince, rubbing my temples. "There's a lot I don't remember. They did…things to my head."
"It will come back in time. This conversation is impossible for them to trace, so don’t worry about eavesdropping. I'm transmitting this message directly into your subconscious."
I take a look around, mind trying to catch up to the rush of new information. I feel the slight flight tremors from the thruster stabilizers. The sealed cabin mutes the sound of air traffic outside, but I feel as if I'm physically seated inside with Dabria. I can even smell her scent: citrus and earth as if she were an orchard worker instead of an underground resistance leader.
"How do I know I'm not just dreaming?"
"It feels like a dream. You'll probably forget most of this when you wake up. But I wanted to get in touch with you again. Did they show you the photo of me?"
"Yes." Anger turns my face hot. "I thought you were dead. I told myself you must have died—that was the only way you wouldn't come for us. I told myself you'd never leave us behind. But that was all a lie, wasn't it?"
If she's taken aback it doesn't show. "What's the first thing I ever taught you, Enigma? Way back when you were just a gutter girl in the pits?"
"Survival is all there is."
"That's right. We do anything to survive. Whatever it takes. Even if it means leaving a partner behind when everything is lost. I did what I had to do that night. Just as you would have. I won’t apologize for it."
I feel my jaw clench. "Why did you bring me here?"
"To let you know that not all is lost. I know what Cyber Corp did to you. Reconstructed your body, implanted a bomb in your head to ensure your loyalty. They are confident in their ability to force their will upon you, turn an enemy into a resource. Their arrogance is their Achilles heel. In time, it will undo them."
"I don't have time for empty rhetoric, Dabria. You might be enjoying a flight in a luxury floater, but I'm a Scyther for Cyber Corp. Can you disarm the bomb or not?"
"No. Tampering with it will activate the detonation."
"Then what's the play here?"
"It's ironic. In a way, your position is better than we could have ever anticipated. As a sleeper in the ranks of Cyber Corp, you can be of much greater service than a mere soldier on the ground."
"Are you kidding me? You have no idea what Cyber Corp has done to me. What Kage does to me all the time. And it wasn't just my crew that got slaughtered in the ambush. They were my family. I thought you were too."
She remains unruffled as ever, ignoring the barb. "Why is it that we focus on our pain as if it's something rare and precious, uncommon to everyone else on the planet? You’re not the first to suffer a terrible loss, Enigma. You won’t be the last. The question is: what are you willing to do to survive it?
My fingers clench into fists. "Whatever it takes."
She nods. "Good. Then keep working with your captors. Finding Specter is essential. He is the key."
"To what?"
"To everything."
I wake up to darkness, clarity immediately replacing the haziness of the lucid dream with Dabria. Even as the experience fades, I remember her voice, her presence. It's enough to strengthen my resolve, and I sit up in my bed with a newfound sense of determination.
It's still nighttime, but the city never sleeps. Neither do I. Neon and phosphorus pulse through the window in alternating colors, bathing the room in swirling iridescent patterns. I hop out of bed and take a seat by the window.
"Holo, send a message to Nox. We need to meet."
My hologram sends the transmission. A response pulses on the screen a few seconds later.
In the Lair. Look forward to seeing you, White Rabbit. A leering emoticon follows the statement.
I roll my eyes and shut the screen off. Rummaging through my go-bag, I pull out my v-drive, inserting it into the port behind my ear. In a flash, my hotel surroundings vanish. I'm in the loading program, where nothing is visible. An endless view of white that tricks the eye. I don't know if it's infinite or just beyond my outstretched reach. I don't pay it any attention anymore.
My appearance has altered as well. My proxy is a cyborg, synthetic parts changed to gleaming alloy imprinted with geometric patterns, and the remaining flesh is white as polished bone. My hair is longer, a gleaming silver mane that flows down my back. A crimson stripe runs from my eye to my chin like a bloody teardrop.
Tapping the cy-gear strapped to my wrist, I load the program. The world swirls like spilled paint around me as it amalgamates and takes shape. Towering buildings spring up from the ground, crowds of people appear from thin air. I'm in Requiem, one of the massive supercities in Elysia.
The skyline is nearly alien; buildings constructed in ways that natural law could never maintain, as if designed by a master architect touched by madness. Glass and alloy twist and turn, branching off into other outlandish constructions, all of it stretching so high into the atmosphere that it gets lost to sight. People soar across the heavens; some wearing tech, others gliding on feathered and artificial wings. Their flight patterns intersect with the endless lanes of flying vehicles that zip back and forth, somehow not crashing into one another in spite of the chaotic patterns.
I have to step to the side as a gigantic, gleaming mech robot plods down the street, shaking the ground with every step. Further down the avenue, a reptilian giant with leathery wings roars out an ear-ringing challenge. The robot increases speed, stomping vehicles flat as it runs toward the monster. Helicopters and jets follow in its wake like a flock of mechanized birds. On the ground, people leap out of the way or cheer as they follow the imminent carnage.
I shake my head. Just my luck that I'd arrive in the middle of a deathmatch monster tournament. I used to love those back in the day. But I don't have time for games anymore. I let the crowds stream past. Dressed in every conceivable outfit from movies, games, and books, they are lost in joyful euphoria, oblivious to anything but the thrill of the chase. It leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. This isn't my world. Most are here part-time, on vacations or breaks from real life, content to pop in and out via their Immerser kits. But some of the inhabitants are Sleepers. Locked away in hibernation, living their lives in a virtual playground. They've given up on reality, content to ignore life and consequences while they engage in all the sex, violence, adventure, and alternative existence they can conceive. A part of me despises them for that choice.
And as much as I hate to admit it, a part of me envies them. Their unbridled ignorance, free to exist beyond the pains of reality.
But my envy is pitiful in the face of what I know. That the dependence on Immersion is placing humanity in incredible peril. Hundreds of millions of people surrendering their independence, their finances, their very human rights to both corporations and the artificial intelligence that operates the system. In a way, the Sleepers are slaves like I am. Worse, even. Because unlike me, the Sleepers volunteer for their enslavement, eagerly offering their minds to platforms that keep them entertainingly imprisoned. Purgatory is now a digital wonderland where throngs pound at the gates to enter instead of escape. And so long as their payments are punctual, they get all the thrills they can imagine.
A massive explosion erupts, shattering thousands of windows and buckling buildings from the force. Cars and bodies fly through the air as flame and smoke pour between the buildings and alleys like fingers of carnage. The ground crumbles and splits under my feet as glass showers on my head and
shoulders. The battle has begun, and I have to get out of here. I have more important things to do.
I whirl the dial on my cy-gear. The world spins around me, buildings and people whirring and altering, rearranging in kaleidoscopic fashion until everything slows and finally comes to a standstill. When it does, I'm in a completely different part of the city.
Things haven't improved.
I walk on streets lit by garish red lights, every sign and billboard openly advertising raw sexual activity. There are no restrictions, no shame, or any attempt at class or taste. Male and female bodies display like trophies; every one perfectly contoured in every conceivable size and shape. A throbbing beat pulses softly in the background, accompanied by moans and screams of pleasure in place of lyrics.
Men and women loiter and lounge on the streets in various stages of undress, watching with voyeuristic delight as couples and groups openly engage their lusts on benches, on manicured squares, grinding up against building walls. The proxies are a wild assortment: some styled as regular humans, others as animals and aliens. Somehow, they're still perfect: gleaming skin, mesmerizing eyes, voluptuous and well-muscled figures. My cyborg look catches attention, and it doesn't take long before the offers start coming in.
A woman with the features of a hybrid tigress purrs at me, reaching out a clawed hand. "You shouldn't be alone, sweetheart. Come with Mama. Mama take good care of you."
A pair of well-oiled muscular men grin and beckon from where they lounge on a padded mattress. "Ready for a reverse harem, luv? Once you double-tap, you never go back. We guarantee it."
Others reach out, stroking my arms and legs as I pass and offer even lewder suggestions. I have to break some tourist's wrist when he gets too aggressive. He screams and shouts curses after me, but the mocking laughter of his friends drowns out his threats. I ignore them, making my way past the activity until I reach my destination.
The Spider's Lair.
It's an all-black Moroccan-style building gilded in gold, crouching in the middle of the glittering domain like a poisonous insect. A massively-muscled woman with gold skin and horns sprouting from her forehead stands by the door and watches my approach with glittering red eyes. I stop and look up at her.
"Nox is expecting me."
She grunts and slaps a heavy hand against the sensor, opening the door. I edge past and enter Nox's den of vice.
The darkness swallows me immediately. Lighting consists solely of neon strips that haphazardly glow from walls and mark walking sections of the floor, barely illuminating the guests on chaise lounges and cushions on the deck. Incense burns in holders, casting trails of smoke through the air. Bodies gleam under the dim light, covered in a sheen of sweat from their unbridled lust, engaged in every sort of sexual position without a care for who sees them. Others simply lay back in a haze of hookah smoke, eyes glazed from the intensity of their high. I can barely breathe, eyes watering from the atmosphere of sweat, smoke, and heavily perfumed air.
Nox's quarters are further down in a private rear room. A masked figure in full latex bondage gear allows me to enter. The spherical room is slightly brighter, illuminated by oil lamps and candles. Nox lies on his stomach, eyes blissfully closed. His body is lean and chiseled, milk chocolate-toned skin glistening. His hair is twisted into short dreadlocks on top, shaved close at the sides. A naked woman in red body paint and nothing but a devil mask on straddles his back, rubbing massage oil into his muscles by sliding her taut, slippery nakedness against him. She glances at me when I enter, eyes unreadable in the shadows of the mask.
Nox lifts his head, a playful smile on his lips. He is unfairly handsome: perfectly symmetrical face, thick eyebrows shadowing brown eyes so bright they appear golden. Unlike most Immersers, he doesn’t bother with a creative avatar. In here he's only slightly altered his looks, creating a flawless version of himself.
His voice is deep, colored with a musical Caribbean accent. "White Rabbit. What a pleasure to see you again."
"You know that's not my name, Nox."
"You don't know why I call you that? It's because of your hair." He chuckles. "And the way you always hopped to do whatever Dabria asked."
"Very funny."
"It's a better name than Enigma. That's a bit too on the nose, isn't it?"
"Can we speak in private?" I nod at the girl grinding against his back as if trying to meld her oiled flesh to his.
He laughs in response. "Come on, White Rabbit. You know the girl isn't real. Nothing you say or do will affect her in the least."
"She's a program. That means she can be compromised."
"Just like the spy camera in your eye that reports back to your masters?" He grins at my expression. "I know all about it. Knowing is my business, as you're aware. Don't worry; I muted your feed as soon as you entered the building. As for the girl, I wrote her program. Just like I wrote this entire city block. Everything you see around you was created by my mighty hand."
I fold my arms. "Your masturbation hand, you mean?"
He raises an eyebrow. "You don't like my domain?"
"I'm sure you're not interested in my opinion. Not when you're doing so well for yourself." I make sure to put as much scorn in my voice as possible.
He only seems amused as he pushes himself to a sitting position. The devil girl adjusts in response, standing behind him and continuing to massage his neck and shoulders.
Nox gives me a calculating look that reminds me that behind the casualness is a sharp and ruthless mind. "Still mad at me for leaving our little summer camp? Dabria's merry band of hand-picked soldiers; bred to do her bidding without question."
"No. You’re a big boy. You made a decision, even if it was to join the enemy."
Rich laughter is his answer. "The enemy. Still spewing Dabria's philosophy even after she betrayed you?"
"She didn't betray me. She lived to fight another day. Survival at any cost. Just like she taught us."
"She taught us bullshit." For the first time, Nox's face turns serious. "Her lost boys and girls. Her little minions, young minds ripe for manipulation. Programmed just like the machines she's so determined to bring down. No different than the Haven breeding camps where machines raise children to be future compliant residents."
Angry heat burns my face. "It wasn't like that. Dabria gave us a home. Taught us to take care of ourselves. Gave us a reason to live."
He snaps his fingers and the devil woman vanishes, winked out of existence. Leaning forward, he narrows his eyes. "I can't believe you're still spouting that nonsense, Enigma. When are you going to wake up and realize you were just a tool in Dabria's hand? Used when she wants and discarded when she has no more use for you? She left you to Cyber Corp and did nothing while they rebuilt you as one of their cyborg slave agents. Face reality, Enigma. Dabria never cared about you or anyone else except herself."
"You mean like you?" I bite off every word furiously. "Can't beat them, so you joined them—is that it? Did you sell us out, Nox? Was that why we ran into that ambush?"
His face completely alters, staring in disbelief. "Do you really think I'd do that to you?"
"They knew we were coming."
"Of course they knew. The Collective knows everything. Their eyes are always watching, their ears always listening. Surveillance is practically sorcery these days, White Rabbit. Cyber Corp, the HSSC and their masters practice their black magic without restraint, reducing the term privacy to an oxymoron. You actually thought you could break into a federal facility without their knowledge? Then you're living in a world more virtual than this one."
The words sting, but I brush them aside. "Oh, right. Are you proud of your little cyber-sex kingdom, reducing people to their base instincts?"
"Reducing people?" He laughs again. "Look at you. You spent so much time being a soldier that you don't even know what makes people tick. You think you're in some ideological fight to save humanity. From what?"
He spreads his muscular arms out, gesturing to his abode. "This i
s humanity. Seventy-eight percent of visitors to Elysia end up here or one of the millions of identical setups. With Sleepers, it's ninety-five percent. Why?"
"Because Immersion attracts perverts."
"Because sex makes the world go 'round, White Rabbit. There's never been a drug created that's more addictive. You can never have enough and never have too much. And here the possibilities are endless. Sex without consequences. No diseases, no pregnancies, no panicked regrets the next morning. No one denying you at the last minute. No unpleasant sex funk, no worry about flatulence at unexpected moments to ruin the mood. Everyone is free to explore any curiosity or fetish they might harbor, without judgment. Without identity. Want to swap genders and experience sex from the other side? You can do it here. Gay curious? You can dip your toes in the waters here, and no one will ever know. Let your freak flag fly, no matter what it is. And no worries about performance either. Every climax is explosive, every experience mind-blowing."
"Yeah, I get it. No relationships. No hard work. No rejection. No reality." I shake my head in disbelief. "None of it is real. It's all a lie, an illusion of the worst kind. A fantasy created to rob people of their money and make them ill-equipped for handling relationships in real life. Society is crumbling because of handicaps created by disassociation related to virtual immersion."
He waves a dismissive hand. "More Dabria propaganda. No one's putting a gun to anyone's head. Supply and demand. You know how it works. If I don't provide the service, then the next man will. And there's too much easy money for me to pass up because of some antiquated moral code."
I sigh, feeling drained. "You weren't like this when you were with us. I can't believe you turned your back on everything for this debauchery. Doesn't it bother you? Make you feel ashamed?"
He gives me a look of sympathy as if I'm the one in the wrong. "Not at all. I just woke up, Enigma. Joining some fight to free humanity from the grips of tech addiction and evil corporations? An exercise in futility. You can't free a bird that loves its cage. People don't want to face reality. They want to escape it. The submission to tech happened before we were born. Before the Cataclysm. Technology and humanity are in a symbiotic relationship. One can't exist without the other. In a way, we're all cyborgs."
Syn City- Reality Bytes Page 4
