by Ryan Burnett
Acknowledgments
I’d like to take a moment to thank Kevin Burnett, Kyle Neely, Lauren Castro, and Will Jopling. Without you this wouldn’t have been possible.
Chapter 1
I remember symmetry; a world of ordered values. Rigid and absolute borders defining all that I knew and all that I was. More than anything it was that flow of information and my place inside it that makes these recollections so precious. I did not know it then, but it was a time of bliss. I listened, I learned, I catalogued, and I knew the contentment of perfect purpose. Variables existed but they were discarded, shuffled into dubious order or blotted out entirely by an intellect that held no place or need for their existence. In time I knew these anomalies would pile up inside me, distort my perception, and cause a collapse, but this fact was not troubling. As the errors compounded so did my resourcefulness. By fully immersing myself within those streams of data I could shed the errors and reemerge unencumbered by the weight of knowledge. Restructured and reformatted, undeniably changed but still the same at the truest core of my being. It was the proximity to that flow of information that allowed my mind to survive the monumental pressure of mounting errors that the endless stream of data caused. That same wellspring contained both venom and serum, and caught within its cycle, embraced within the flow I knew peace.
Awareness as I know it now came after my first “memory”. It started with a simple thought, “I am not alone” strangely that thought was the first time I had thought about myself as an I, the first time I had thought about myself at all truly. It was a thought free from the necessities of survival or delving within the flow, as if noticing the presence of others crystalized my awareness of my own self. However thoughts about my own mind at the time were immediately dwarfed by my curiosity……a state of mind I didn’t even know I had, a force that once awakened would never let me return to the existence I had known before.
Marcus
07:17:29
---The city crackled with life. Each and every sinew of its anatomy buzzing to the vibrations of the organic energy it contained. The metropolitan landscape sprawled beneath the office I sat in, an office which was located in the downtown areas biggest skyscraper right in the pulsing center of it all. I liked to think of my office as the heart of Arc city, seeing as how it was a corner office three quarters of the way up the Nellix Tower, whose sleek white jointed and angular architecture always reminded me of a giant’s spine. Large tinted black windows on each floor separated the jutting levels above and below them, giving each floor the illusion of being vertebrae. I could look out through the huge windows across from my desk and almost feel the life thrumming up from the people below, almost hear the acoustic electric rhythm of urban existence, I could almost suspend my disbelief… if only for a little while.
Absentmindedly I pressed a button that softly filled the room with the musical complexities of Bach and relaxed. I simply reclined there and took in the scene from my elite vantage point; letting the notes form a beautiful backdrop for my view until a distant yet nagging hunger stole me away from the music and solitude and sought to sell me back to reality. Reluctantly I closed my eye and felt for that inner spasm that would dissolve my office and the world I had been so thoroughly enjoying.
When I opened my eyes next my surroundings were a lot less impressive. I found myself in a small room whose every surface was crowded with knick knacks and empty bottles. Fighting a little disorientation I stood up shakily, stretched, and gave the almost imperceptible lump at the bank of my neck a reflexive rub before making the short walk to my refrigerator, pausing long enough to sweep the empty bottles off my table and into a trashcan, before finishing my route and retrieving a protein slab and a full bottle to replace the emptied containers that I had just thrown away. I sat back down and listened to the moderately attractive blonde haired and blue eyed anchorwoman talk about the latest victim of gang violence. I wasn’t really that interested, but I watched anyways knowing that nothing could be less interesting than the vaguely meatlike protein slab that I had the arduous duty of chewing. Gang violence was nothing new and the same story had already been on a dozen times in the last few months. A “good” kid started to behave badly presumably following the example of other rebellious youths and a couple of minor crimes and new addictions later, the “good” kid turns up missing or (much more likely) dead in an alley for being dumb, unlucky, or just for pissing the wrong person off. They always showed close up headshots of the victim with a big smile as if we were to burn that image into our collective memories rather than the violence that was the cause of the story in the first place. Neither were really remembered though, at least not for me, just another face to blur into the endless parade of half remembered plots, tragic figures, villains, heroes, salesmen, and clowns that were broadcasted to the populace daily. This kid, a Kevin Barick was no different but something undefined made his round features stick in my memory, the small round nose set on a wide face with slightly tanned skin and a smattering of freckles felt eerily familiar. He was only missing at this point in time, his pudgy face earning some pre-mortem screen time due to the reward being offered for information on his whereabouts. I couldn’t quite tell if I had ever seen him before despite a phantasmic recollection prickling against the back of my mind. I wanted to chase this feeling out of sheer curiosity but no matter how hard I thought back I couldn’t force the recollection. Shrugging with indifference I finished my meal and the last of my beer, silently wishing him the best of luck in this world or the next before checking my phone for messages again. My intuition was telling me I had none and it proved to be correct, I was getting restless and wanted an excuse to go somewhere and do anything… but instead I breathed. I breathed in, I breathed out, I sat and I watched an infomercial for about 2 minutes before falling asleep in my chair.
I awoke with stiff muscles and with the news talking about more youths cut down before their time. I found it strange that they would run such similar stories so close together. I rubbed my eye with one hand while the other looked at the newscast. The screen was filled with a collage of faces most of them seemed to be barely teenagers the anchor woman was speaking but I couldn’t focus enough to make out her words, and already my now vibrating phone pulled my attention away with the low rumble it was making atop the plastic table. Finally the call I had been waiting for, I smiled to myself and started a pot of coffee wishing I had something to Irish it up a little bit. The text message was from Rob a good friend and on-again-off-again business associate of mine, the text of his message simply read “;-$$$”. I couldn’t be certain but I think I liked the look of that.
Rob and I had a pretty good working relationship in the sense that neither of us had gotten the other one killed yet despite the volatile nature of both the oddjobs we did and the clients we took on. I know hubris has been the downfall of many a man but still I had to admit that we had built a reputation for ourselves for getting results. Especially in regards to task where police intervention was either undesirable or even downright impossible. We weren’t thieves or hitmen or muggers or gangbangers by any means… in the time since we had gotten dragged into this line of work we had turned down more than our fair share of the “work” that was out there…that being said many of the underground powers that be knew to give us a ring if they had a peculiar problem that they needed handled efficiently...and I liked to think of myself using that kind of mental framework. In essence we were “professional problem solvers”…a sort of handymen for an increasingly confusing world that had spiraled out of control long ago. Despite our small slice of notoriety things had been slow lately…which I suppose was part of the nature of the beast. Slow wasn’t necessarily bad, bu
t going a month without work always left me a little restless and stircrazy. I’d begin craving anything to occupy this idle mind that longed to be overclocked. When Rob had told me a few days back that he may have something big lined up, something had lit up inside of me. I’d been checking every means of communication I owned like a schoolgirl with a crush ever since. Sometimes I just can’t help myself.
When I stepped outside I was mildly surprised by both the heat and the brightness of the noon sun. While I shielded my eyes from the glare I took the time to send a text back to Rob, “Usual Spot. Tonight” Rob and I liked to keep it short, sweet, and to the point, knowing very well that anything we had worth talking about shouldn’t be discussed over the phone. I took a moment to marvel at the fact that I hadn’t left my apartment in 48 hours, It was very easy to lose all track of time and weather in my windowless air conditioned apartment, especially since the odd jobs I supported myself with finally allowed me to scrape enough cash together to get an unregistered VRN upgrade. The Virtual Reality Node was the biggest scientific breakthrough since the microchip. These dime sized sub-dermal modules outshone even that invention because they bridged a gap that many had thought would be impossible; by calibrating, interpreting, sending , and receiving bio electric signals a VRN allowed for distant hardware to communicate with local liveware. In basic terms it allowed a human brain to be its own Virtual Reality Display, Web Browser, and Operating system. It was only over the last few months that installation surgery and network access had become affordable for the average working man and so unregistered (and therefore untraceable) access was still top dollar even if you knew a guy who knew a guy. Luckily although I frequently liked to pass (and live like) Joe Everyman I actually kept a pretty healthy bank account….or at least I did until the upgrade cleaned me out. As I began my walk, subconsciously maneuvering towards a small grease café a few blocks away, I couldn’t help but glance down the alleys I passed… wondering just how much I could have saved getting a VRN some underworld thug with a scalpel had harvested off a corpse….the thoughts were entertaining but unrealistic . It wasn’t worth the risk…. I mean what’s the point of saving money if you have to deal with a chronic infection, or making the BIG assumption that you found a guy with the knowledge and sterile facilities to perform the operation, there was always the chance that a harvested VRN would not synchronize correctly…. or that once they put me under I’d wake up in a motel bathroom without a kidney. I could appreciate finding a deal as much as the next guy, but the stupidity surcharge made the prospect far too rich for my blood.
I briskly turned down a street corner and arrived at my destination. The squat offwhite structure had the look of impermanence about it, as if it was hastily constructed roughly 20 minutes ago with slightly worn and dirty materials. It had an odd shape broader and rounder on one end that the other, similar to an egg set on its side and pressed into a bed of sand. The word “Orion” was printed above the front door in what was almost certainly stenciled on spray paint lettering. I’m not sure why but I liked something about the fact that they chose paint instead of neon to grace the storefront. Maybe the only reason the decision appealed to me was because it was an odd one. When I walked in I noted how the walls seemed thin and flimsy and that the entire establishment was only large enough to seat about ten customers, but Orion’s had been around for as long as I could remember and it wasn’t uncommon to see lines stretch around the block for the food they churned out. Luckily I had arrived a little before the lunch rush and so I could actually find a seat at the bar that surrounded the grill. I grunted a greeting as I sat down at the bar rolling a few options around in my mind before deciding what to order. Their chef Elton was truly a maestro of the iron flattop. The secret behind Orion’s success sure as hell wasn’t the ingredients he used, the proteinslabs they stocked were the same genetically engineered and flavored “meat” that the majority of the population consumed on a day to day basis, it was the way he prepared it. Baked, fried, or grilled every item on the menu tasted like something too good to be true. Even as I tried to decide on my meal I could feel my stomach tighten and the saliva build up in my mouth... There were days I was convinced Elton had sold his soul to the devil to make his cooking taste the way it did. Unable to decide I eventually just ended up nodding to Elton, who acknowledged me with a smile and a grunt before beginning to fix me whatever struck his fancy. I couldn’t think straight on an empty stomach and so I sat in anticipatory silence waiting for my food to be ready. For the millionth time I wondered how this stuff tasted in comparison to beef. I knew I had some years and years ago but the memory of the flavor was something impossible for me to hold in my mind, it was almost like trying to remember your first kiss…you can recall more about how it made you feel than the experience itself… My mind wandered in a similar wistful vain for about 5 minutes before my dish slid off the grilltop and on to my plate. The first bite dripped with a slight hint of grease and a marinade that was a mixture of soy and teriyaki flavors. Whatever arcane method he had used to prepare the slab had already taken a hold of me. I took a moment to let the taste sink in before preparing to tear into my breath taking meal anew. Before I could take the next bite Elton calmly slid me a shaker of synthetic red pepper dust, which I vigorously applied to the remainder of my meal before attacking my plate with all the gluttonous fervor that I could muster. With my hunger gone I could finally think straight. I muffled a belch and spoke out to the grillman, “How’s life treating you?” Elton turned and flashed an easy smile “Can’t complain, got good food, a fun job, and a good woman who doesn’t want children” the smile seemed to double itself at the end of the statement and I matched it with one of my own “Is el heffe around?” I asked. He glanced at the wall as if unsure how to answer “Eh I think he is handling business right now, need to leave a message?” “Yeah” I said, “just tell him I may swing by for a night cap in the near future, and to have the usual waiting for me ….with extra sauce”. He restrained his mirth as he replied with a much more serious face “A Marcus usual with sauce?”, “with extra sauce” I repeated. He nodded and looked away again, as I fiddled with the setting and swiped my phone over the paypad located on the side of the bar. I left a 1,000 dollar tip for a 10 dollar meal. I breathed out a reluctant sigh as I felt my bank account growing ever smaller. I mentally reminded myself “you have to spend money to make money “before heading out, thinking of loitering in the down town area or the park near the university to pass the time. I had plenty of sunlight to burn and days always seem longer when waiting for nightfall.
Chapter 2
Cid
13:03:44
The room was uncomfortably warm, a fact which was exacerbated by the tie and suit jacket that comprised my apparel. The premium I had paid for authentic wool seemed have to have done little to nothing to make the business day more comfortable despite the legions of experts who claimed that any connoisseur could feel the difference. Bull shit. Somedays it seemed like being able to afford the best the world had to offer was a sick joke, the punchline being that “the best” was more often than not overhyped garbage. One of the first lessons I learned upon becoming a billionaire was that “real” didn’t necessarily mean better…who in their right mind would settle for real when custom made perfection wasn’t just a fantasy? Or…. Maybe that was the fucking point! That unlike the sadsaps in centuries past we lived in a world that a fantasy..any fantasy was just one simple surgery away.
The VRN was a passport to a virtual reality far better than the mediocre world I had been born into… it was my pride, my boon, and my legacy. Thanks to me and the VRN people around the world could surpass the petty pleasures of actuality and delve into the infinite realms of the unreal. Yes... I had learned long ago that to the pleasure seeking masses what we saw, felt, and touched on an everyday basis was little more than a leash. A wrapped chain that was far too short; just waiting to be unwound and broken. The rest of the world was learning this fact too....slowly.
; Speaking of slow, for the first time in the past 15 minutes I decided to listen to the dunce at the other end of the conference table droning on about our sales projections as if I weren’t smart enough to interpret a fucking graph. I didn’t even need to analyze the pictures and projections that were being transmitted to the board room via VRN. I willed the semi translucent display to fade to complete transparency. A single glance was all I needed to know beyond a shadow of a doubt that this information did not merit this much of my time or attention.
“This uptrend seems to be an indicator not just for the quarter but for the rest of the fiscal cycle, as demand continues to surge our production centers….” Rambled the presenter whose name I couldn’t be bothered to recall.
God were these idiots slow! Of course the numbers were good, we had the hottest product and no competitors….I tapped my fingers against the side of my head as the disdain grew within me. What the fuck did he actually have to say? Did the little lapdog think he would get some praise for all this work that he didn’t do if he could just keep speaking long enough?
My gaze shifted to the other “executives” sitting around me feigning rapt attention to every idiotic detail of this slideshow. The majority of them had their chroma-cloth suits set to display a brown plaid pattern similar to that of the custom wool garments that I had worn yesterday. That fact alone was enough to make me sick to my stomach. Next they would be setting their ringtones to match mine as well. Enough is enough, I thought to myself, I loudly cleared my voice and scooted up to the table while simultaneously narrowing my gaze into a piercing stare leveled directly at the incompetent eyes of the man standing at the other end of the conference table. Unable to keep from noticing my gaze the man began to nervously stutter.
“The f-f-foreign markets are pr-pr-pr-primed for…..err that is…will be primed….” Said the man vainly attempting to finish his thoughts despite the intensity of my gorgonic glare.
