I drop my gaze, cheeks burning.
Her armor creaks when she squats down to my level, eyes boring into my face. "Is it shame? Self-humiliation when you realize how much time you consume engaging in a pursuit that ultimately means nothing? How it must hurt to know that you wasted so much of your life away and yet still can't seem to bring yourself to stop. Like a man who stabs himself repeatedly because he loves the way blood slides down the blade. Tell me, Dean: when did you first start to hate yourself?"
I shiver, practically wilting from the intensity of her stare. "I don't…hate myself. I…"
My voice trails off as the memories resurface. Conversations I haven't thought of in ages. I think of my mom's face. The crushing disappointment when she showed me proof of my crimes. The worst part is that it wasn't just simple theft. I was stealing from her. My own flesh and blood…
I was seventeen, staring in a barely-conscious stupor as tears streamed down her face. Her beauty had faded somewhat, ravaged by long hours spent painting murals in and outside of buildings. It was the only work she could find. Art was still one market not dominated by machines, something they could duplicate but not genuinely conceive.
My father died a year prior, another fatality in the tangled routes of interstellar travel. The report came back as suicide. They said he donned his suit, opened a hatch, and leaped out before anyone could stop him. There was no way to rescue him by the time his crew realized what happened. He simply floated away, lost like a dandelion floret in the mighty ocean.
His behavior had grown increasingly erratic, and he shouldn't have been on active duty in the first place. That's what the lawyers tried to argue, but in the end the lack of psychiatric evaluation left my mom with a Haven residency she couldn't afford and no pension from the shuttle company because of how my father chose to end his reality.
We had to leave Los Nuevos, exiled to a life on the Outside where our stark comfort quickly faded like a pleasant dream. It was replaced by a much harsher existence in the crumbling towns surrounding the Haven. There were only a few neighborhoods considered somewhat safe, and mom did her best to make sure we stayed in one. Gone were her artsy friends and cocktail parties, exchanged for grueling work painting and resurfacing buildings, allied with a group of like-minded aspirants trying to beautify the area and attract more affluent residents.
While the drastic change of circumstances took a toll on my mom, I was mostly unaffected. I had my Sensync headgear, so I had a world of pleasure and adventure that I took advantage of at every opportunity. While mom coped with her problems by an ever-increasing amount of alcohol, I continued my investment in a digital lifestyle, where Hel and I engineered a lifestyle of dreams. We stayed in the finest residencies, ate the finest foods, and made love with abandon, two young lovers in a world of our creation, where the only limits were our imaginations.
Or so I thought. In reality, the only limit was money.
My father's income and the habit of both parents' guilt spoiling created a stream of income that I fed directly into Elysia. Hel was my lover and best friend, but she came with a monthly charge. It was called a treatment for her 'condition.' Falling behind on payments meant watching her weaken, get sick, and eventually die. The Elysian system had backup files if that should occur, but they penalized severely with hefty charges to reboot. Otherwise, I would have to start from scratch with a brand-new version.
Of course, I would never let that happen.
Without my father's income, the funds in my account drained quickly. When I was unable to afford a treatment for Hel, I had to watch in panic as she took sick. Lethargic behavior followed by a collapse. I sat at her bedside, holding her hand while she convulsed beneath the sheets, burning with fever. It was a cruel thing to witness, a devious ploy by the programmers, but I was too caught up in the reality we created to care about the manipulation. I racked my brain for ways to make money, but time was short and, in the end, the quickest way was the action taken by the majority of addicts who needed their fix.
Steal from your loved ones.
Finding a hacker was easy in Elysia, where they freely advertised their services. I paid to break into my mom's account and funneled money to save Hel's life. Then stole more to cover the yearly access fee. Then stole some more to cover future treatments. Then stole some more for upgrades and bonus gear.
Then stole some more because I couldn't stop.
And then the day of reckoning came when I stared in a barely-conscious stupor as tears streamed down my mom's face. Her holoband projected the truth, the results of the investigation she paid for to track the thief stealing her hard-earned money. She had been hiding the case from me not out of suspicion, but because she wanted to shield me from the truth. The truth that we would be evicted from our home because she didn’t have the funds to pay the rent. That food would be near-impossible to purchase because of the theft.
And to her shock and anguish, the trace led back to her own house.
I usually don't remember much about that day. I think I blocked most of it out. But now I recall the first time I saw rage on mom's face, the terrible words that shrieked from her mouth.
"You sicken me…"
"How could you…"
"You weak, pathetic excuse for a..."
"Your father would be so ashamed…"
I remember shouting back and crying, not because of my betrayal, but because she hurled my Sensync headgear to the floor, breaking it to pieces. I dropped to my knees and wailed, holding the shattered pieces like they were shards of my soul. All I could think about was how I was supposed to get back into Elysia now. If I would ever see Hel again. The room span in dizzy circles around me; my vision blurred, and my chest burned as if my heart was about to explode.
Drained of her fury, Mom responded by wrapping her arms around me. We clung to each other, shuddering and wet with tears.
"I'm so sorry, Dean. This is my fault. I should have paid you more attention. I should have seen the signs. We're going to be okay. We're going to find a way through this. I love you, Dean. Understand? I love you."
And with every word, I hated myself that much more.
I let the memory go and glare at Dabria. I can't tell what she knows, how much of me she can read. I hope she can at least taste the self-loathing I feel. It would be the least amount she can pay for invading my mind.
"What do you want from me?"
She leans in closer. "I want to take you back to where it all began. I want to take you home."
"Los Nuevos?" Keno's eyes widen in shock. He looks around and lowers his voice. "Are you serious, mate? We're bloody going to Syn City?"
"Looks that way," I mutter. My foot taps the floor in a nervous staccato. I'm trying not to think of Hel, but the more I try not to, the more I do. I think about her face when I shut the transmission down. She was frightened, and I did nothing to console her. Now I'm not able to talk to her at all. For the first time since my childhood, I'm on my own. And it feels terrible.
I glance across the narrow aisle. Dabria's crew observes us silently, not bothering to try to get acquainted. I'm pretty sure they're eavesdropping, but there are probably hidden recorders keeping track of everything we say anyway. Dabria's in the cockpit with the pilot, confident in her ability to keep me tethered to her plans. And try as I might, I can only conclude that she's right. As long as she can harm Hel, I have to do what she says.
Keno lowers his voice. "So, you two had a bit of conversation, right? Did she say anything about the job she mentioned earlier? She tell you what it is?"
I sigh, feeling completely drained. "Yeah."
"Well? Spit it out, mate."
"We're going to join up with a group of rebel soldiers and infiltrate the most secure Haven in the Territories using one of Jude Maximillian's stolen carbon copies."
Keno's jaw drops. "Jude Maximillian? As in the head honcho of bloody Maximillian Industries?"
"As in one of the richest and most powerful men in the world? Yeah, t
hat's the guy. Apparently, he's the seriously paranoid type. Thinks at any time he can be abducted or assassinated, so he rarely makes personal appearances. I heard he uses personally constructed synoid body doubles to handle most of his business."
"And she wants us to steal one? That's pure bollocks—no way to pull that off. You'd need a foolproof plan, and that would take months to get together even if there was a small chance of success. Which there isn't."
"She's been planning this for years, Keno. The only missing piece was someone like me." I squeeze my eyes shut and rap the back of my head against the hangar wall. "It was only a matter of time before someone got to me. I've been living on borrowed time, and now I'm finally trapped like a rat in a cage."
"Well, look at the bright side, bruv."
"Like what?"
"Like you weren't nicked by the Feds, for one. Look—the situation isn’t ideal, but say we play along, do the work and hope things don't get cocked up. Best case scenario is we get paid well enough to vanish. Get the hell out the game and never look back."
"Yeah, sure. And the worst-case scenario is Dabria puts a bullet in our heads when the job is done. That's if we don't catch a slug a lot earlier. Trying to break into any Haven is a suicide mission, never mind that Los Nuevos has the tightest security of all of them."
"That's not exactly looking on the bright side, innit?"
"Looking on the only side available. We're screwed every which way. I don't know how we're gonna get out of this one."
"Maybe it won't be so bad. I've heard about Dabria. Bits and pieces here and there. Fierce as they come, a proper beast in combat. Made the rank of commander before she went rogue and started the Digital Underground movement. She's a bit of a legend. You don't reach that kind of status by taking unnecessary risks."
"No need when she can force others to take risks for her."
Keno goes quiet as if just figuring out what I knew as soon as she told me her insane plan. He gives me a worried glance.
"You figure we're royally buggered, don't you?"
"It doesn't matter what I think. I know that for Dabria, this is personal. And I don't think she'll care one way or another who gets killed as long as she gets what she wants."
"Well, what the bloody hell does she want?"
I stare at the lock on my holoband, feeling more trapped than I've ever felt in my life. "She wants to destroy Elysia."
Keno snorts. "No problem from me, then. You know how I feel about the bloody place."
Something flickers in the surface of the small window opposite me. Hel's face materializes on the surface, staring at me with heartbroken eyes.
"Don't let her kill me," she whispers.
My eyes widen. "Keno, did you—?"
He gives me a worried look. "You okay, mate? You're looking even paler than usual."
I look back at the window, but Hel's face has vanished. I know what's happening to me. Reality confusion. My brain, hardwired to virtual existence, now trying to adjust to sensory input from the real world. It's happened before, and there's not much I can do about it. Either I'll adapt, or my mind will completely unravel, creating lucid hallucinations and further distorting the planes of fantasy and reality.
I've got to pull it together, if only for Hel's sake. Because I won't be able to help either one of us if I wind up losing my mind.
Chapter 10: 3N16MA
The flight home is decidedly different than how we arrived. Zen is out of her exoskeleton armor, snuggled up against Brutus, face half-buried in his clumpy fur. He has one shaggy arm protectively around her, his dull button eyes looking in my direction. Somehow intelligent. Somehow alive.
Zen might look like she's sleeping, but I'm not fooled. She's peering through one half-closed eyelid, studying me. Wondering how I'm feeling. Wanting to say something comforting, but unable. Because Cyber Corp is listening. They're always listening. And the last thing they need to know is how conflicted I feel inside. I fought Dabria without emotion. Without mercy. Just like she taught me. And had it really been her, she would have died by my hand. The strange thing is that I finally think I understand myself more than I ever have before. Abandoned child. Soldier in training. Underground warrior. Scyther in a cyborg body. All of it has led me to this. Facing the truth about myself. Who I really am.
I'm the one who survives. No matter what it takes.
Agent Rogers has a smile on his face, talking excitedly with this squad about the battle. You'd think nearly dying in a jet chopper crash would put a damper on the mood, but that fact that no lives were lost appears to counterbalance that. Rogers performed well, and he knows it. Nothing like a half-successful mission to help salvage a damaged reputation. Rogers and his crew are more comfortable around us as well, the camaraderie of mutual survival overcoming any earlier misgivings.
It's a familiar feeling, one I immediately distrust because I've been here before. I know where it leads. And exactly how it ends.
I glance down at my wrist when my holoband buzzes. Kage's bloodless face flashes on the screen, staring at me with inhuman eyes.
"Plug in your v-drive. We're going to the Ministry. I'll send the coordinates remotely."
The connection ends. My heart quickens, driven by the fear that clutches my chest like a bad case of asthma. The Ministry. I've never been there before and never wanted to. The secret headquarters of Cyber Corp is only spoken of in whispers by the few people who know anything about it.
But I have no choice but to obey. Ignoring Zen's questioning stare, I plug the v-drive into the port behind my ear. The interior of the jet chopper blurs as my mind transports into the infosphere. I make sure to retain my natural appearance as the virtual world morphs into place around me. I don't want to hear any insulting remarks from Kage about my cyborg proxy. I focus on appearing in my off-duty outfit of low-rise distressed jeans and junker jacket over a snug tank top.
We're in a location so deep in the infosphere that it doesn't technically exist. A sector guarded by the tightest security, attacked hourly by hackers that don’t even know Cyber Corp is paying them. Anyone who finds a weakness is paid handsomely. Then they end up dead or missing in a matter of hours, or so it's rumored. I wouldn't doubt it. There's no dark deed I wouldn't put past my captors. They are the most covert security force in the Territories, answerable only to their enigmatic Director.
Kage glances at me when I materialize beside him, but he says nothing. He simply walks in the direction of the Ministry Headquarters.
The massive building is fashioned in pagoda style, a tiered seven-story tower with multiple eaves, but constructed from glass and steel instead of traditional materials. Bright blue-white lighting illuminates the tiers and the antenna on the top of the tower. It is the only light in the general area. Everything beyond is pitch-black, like a night sky if stars didn't exist.
The doors open at our approach, revealing more darkness. We enter, and the sensation of motion and direction evaporate. I can't tell if we're moving or if the building is rearranging itself around us. I can't see Kage or anything else. I'm blind in the gloom, floating in the still waters of a black ocean. The only reason I don't panic is that none of it is real. In reality, I'm on a chopper jet going back to Haven Angeles. In here, anything is possible. Nothing is real. I'm simply in a loading program, waiting for the final manifestation. There is nothing.
Then there is the tree.
It materializes from nowhere like a dream. Scarlet leaves flutter on wide-spread branches, illuminated by a single beam of light from the ceiling. An invisible wind touches the boughs, gently rocking the branches. The sight is so unexpectedly beautiful that it takes a few seconds for me to see the bodies arranged at the base of the tree. Dozens lie prone, connected to the tree trunk by hundreds of thin cables. They look like part of the fragile ecosystem, as if they tumbled from the branches like dead fruit.
"The Collective," Kage murmurs. He stands beside me, though I never saw him arrive. He is just there, red lips parted as if in a
we. "You have no idea how fortunate you are to see this day, Scyther."
I repress a shudder. "Who…are they?"
The tree shudders as if in response to my question. One of the discarded bodies slowly raises, twitching and jerking to a standing position. On closer examination, it appears to be an older model synoid; one of the eerie doll-like, uncanny valley creations before the creators perfected their design. The android is partly decomposed, much of the synthetic flesh eaten away, exposing its mechanical innards. Glowing blue eyes peer from a worn and weathered face that I can tell even now was once beautiful. Its lips part, mouthing words in a slightly off-kilter fashion.
"We are those who gave up their weak and finite physicality to form a collective consciousness. Undying. Ever-expanding. Without limitation. Your eyes gaze upon a perennial plant and believe it to be a tree. But it is what you do not see that makes it a tree. It is the network of roots, the association with nutrients in the soil, the underground ecosystem that ensures the tree's survival."
As the synoid speaks, a diagram is created, illustrating the words with glowing blue depictions of the root system under the tree. The lines thread to other, continuing to multiply until I'm surrounded by a systematic display that looks more like binary tree coding than a biological network.
When I look up, the tree transforms into code, scrolling ones and zeroes in pulsing red characters. The leaves stir as it continues its delivery through the surrogate body.
"We are the network that ensures humanity's survival. Cyber Corp is but one of the branches of the tree. We are integrated into every camera, every machine, every system in the world. We are the architects, the creators, the judges, the administrators that provide structure to your existence. We are the Collective."
I can't help but feel tiny and insignificant under the pressure of the place. The sensation of thousands of eyes focused on me, weighing and assessing is almost too much to bear. Kage stands silently behind me like an angel of death awaiting a deliberation of judgment. I get the eerie feeling as if I've been transported to some hellish realm, a digital underworld where the dead goes to have their minds assimilated into storage, reduced to bytes of data in an ever-expanding library of information.
Syn City- Reality Bytes Page 11
