Stimulus (Arc Gap Trilogy Book 1)

by Ryan Burnett

  As I looked closer at our grumpy associate I began to feel wobbly on the barstool I was sitting on. I closed my eyes and waited for the vertigo to pass, and as I reopened my eyes things were undeniably different than before. The man who was in the process of hiring Rob and I appeared as if the texture of his skin was beginning to change from smooth to scaly. The flesh colored ridges crisscrossing across his face and neck. The rosy patches of around his cheeks began to expand and contract, nearly glowing as bright as the club lights. My shock and confusion kept building until his nose began to slowly drift across the side of his face and then it hit me all of a sudden. I had been dosed.

  Someone could have dripped a few drops of LSD on me at any point since I had arrived and this club and I probably would not have even noticed. Thinking back it had probably happened right after taking shots at the bar and I had felt that bead of sweat… it was the only time where my back was exposed and my guard was down. I was no stranger to hallucinogens and although I knew that the most important thing I could do at this point in the proceedings was to not panic I couldn’t help but to be concerned. I literally could not have picked a worse moment to further alter my perceptions but that choice had been taken out of my hands. The only course left was to ride this baby out.

  At first I tried to focus on controlling my breathing, thinking that would help me keep on a level where I would at least be semi capable of operating. My attention though kept being redirected to the suddenly amorphous features of the man with the briefcase. I wanted to focus on him to make sure that our new employer didn’t perceive me as being on a mind altering substance, but ultimately that meant drawing my attention back to myself in order to divert attention away from myself to better perceive his perception of how I was perceiving so I could better……Stop. I have to control this. I have to keep cool. I looked over to Rob who seemed oblivious to the mental Mobius strip I seemed to be stuck in. He appeared to have reached some form of arrangement and was reaching to accept the briefcase from the man when all of a sudden for just the merest fraction of a second all the lights flared and the music’s volume surged to deafening levels. Immediately afterwards there was darkness and silence, the only source of light now were the dim glows of various party accessories, chroma-cloth displays and cellphone lights scattered throughout the club’s interior…apparently the power had shut off completely.

  My disorientation had reached an all-time high as I listened to the crowd complain and rabble in the darkness. My mind seized the opportunity to busily sketched vivid formless images in the void. Unsure how to process what was going on, I reached out across the bar and felt around for something solid and rested my hands on it. I had no idea what it actually was, but it was somehow reassuring to have something real in my grasp. Meanwhile my mind used the glow from my blazing chroma-cloth tie to finger paint strange illusionary figures in all the dark empty space it suddenly had to work with. I glanced at the flames of the tie myself but quickly decided against it. I could get lost staring at my own tie for hours.

  A few seconds… or a few minutes later? (my sense of time was completely distorted by this point) I saw a flash and hear the mind shattering racket of gun shots. Everyone around me had gone from disappointed and confused “awww”s and “boo”s to frantic screams as people desperately fought each other to get out of the building. Confused by the rampage of bodies around me that seemed to blur and melt into one another. I helpless looked around as the cold fingers of panic attempted to assert itself inside of my psyche. I felt an extremely strong tug trying to wrench the object out of my grasp but I held on with both arms for dear life. Even when I felt the force on the other end dragging me off the barstool my grip I maintained my desperate grip. I couldn’t lose the thing, whatever it was. It was my anchor. Without it I was utterly convinced I would be lost forever, untethered, drifting in the Aether. Looking up from my new lower purchase I could see nothing but bright flashes from the gunfire and the two lifeless disembodied eyeballs that the shots revealed. The glowing eyes moved independently of each other spitting destruction and surveying the carnage that they created. In that moment I was convinced that they were the eyes of death and they were looking for me…but as I stared at the roving orbs I was shocked into the here and now by the experience of being hoisted up by my collar off the floor and onto my feet.

  Rob’s grip was pulling me away from the wandering sight of Doom and towards the exit while his other hand was busy pushing and muscling others out of the way. He parted the crowd like a battering ram and before long we were running down the block surrounded by traffic lights and cool night air. As Rob begins to slow his pace, I do so as well the impromptu running I had begun slowly degenerating into a sort of shimmy and skip step that somehow seemed natural to me at this moment. Rob looked

  at me and raised an eyebrow “Whiskey Tango Foxtrot Marcus, I didn’t know you were a dancer.”

  “I’m not. I just got styyyyyyyylllleeee” I replied. Suddenly elated and free of some horrible fate I did not understand. I could barely contain the gratitude inside of me.

  Rob chuckled at my antics as we continued to put distance between us and the club. We could hear the telltale hum of drones and squeal of sirens as they scrambled overhead to the location we had just left. Any second now they would be dousing the area in smoke and riot gas. A part of me felt sorry for anybody who was stuck in there when that happened. Standard drone protocol was to incapacitate any potential suspect indefinitely until the squad cars could arrive and while non-lethal pepper spray was a sure fire way to make a bad situation worse.

  “Marcus….you on something buddy? I thought you were ‘watching our backs’ tonight?” Rob said mockingly.

  “Yeah, I’m about 97% percent positive I got dosed on the club” I replied.

  “Ha. Only 97%?” he questioned.

  “Well there is always the possibility I have finally lost my mind. I can’t entirely count that out” I responded suddenly solemn as I contemplated that possibility. My shoulders began to shake with an inexplicable inner chill as we continued our trek through the muggy night.

  “HAHAHA! Riiiight, you got dosed at the club? More like you made your rounds until you found a club kid with the right chemicals to make your night more interesting.” Rob said prodding me on.

  “That does sound like me doesn’t it? But NO! I’m the responsible one.” I proudly responded

  “Sure you are Marcus. When we were getting out of there did you see what happened to our contact?” Rob asked in a casual voice. I think he had resolved himself to the fact I wouldn’t be particularly helpful for the next few hours as the dose worked itself out of my system.

  “Nope. That was pretty crazy though. What do you think it was all about?” I asked.

  “No clue probably something to do with drugs or gangs or some zap heads trying to knock over the place. Could be anything…kinda sucks though that job was interesting. I wonder if we should haunt the area the next few weekends and see if we can find him again. The dude was pretty damn shady but the longer he spoke the more I kept hearing ‘Cha-ching! Cha-ching! Cha-ching!” Rob said in an animated voice.

  “Yeah….oh by the way I think I grabbed this for some reason” Rob turned around to really take a good look at me and his drunken smile expanded until it nearly doubled and split open his face. For the first time I realized that the object I had been clutching all this time had been the briefcase that our contact had been holding….It must have been him tugging on the handle from the other end amidst the confusion and darkness.

  Rob spoke up, “Did I ever tell you, that you’re my all-time number one favorite son of a bitch? Well Trippy Longstockings you know someone who can get this thing open for us?” he said as he grabbed the case from me and unsuccessfully fumbled with the digital lock mechanism.

  “Maybe.” I answered back, absolutely sure I knew someone who could get the job done.

  “Of course you do. Screw hanging around here let’s grab a bite, rest up, and see wh
at we’ve got here. You know a good place to grab a bite to eat?”

  “Probably” I said, already anticipating a delicious meal at Orion’s.

  “Haha! Of course you know. Well lead the way then, dance on brother. Dance on.”

  Chapter 5

  Cid

  00:03:43

  I owned a dormitory on the same expanse of property as the corporate office. It was a small structure with a minimalist style. Casual observer’s frequently assumed it was just another warehouse and I liked to keep that illusion alive and healthy. Knowledge was power and there was never a reason to give power away. Not for free.

  As of late I had not had the free time or the energy to even make it this far away from the office. I never complained though, in all honesty a part of me preferred to sleep at the top floors of the main building in the VIP Suites; despite the fact that the view of the corporate campus was mediocre at best. Due to security concerns the main plaza was devoid of people at this hour. Even though the reality of the location was that we were located between the business and industrial district; when I sat up there I felt removed from Arc city. Like an outsider looking in. Well…I suppose “looking down” was the more accurate term. It gave a unique perspective that calmed my raw nerves.

  However as of late I had become more and more displeased with the efforts of my subordinates on the executive board. It was becoming increasingly apparent that they were starting to consider themselves peers even though they were capable of little more other than riding my coat tails to success. There were days I felt that there was a viral strain of the Dunning-Kruger effect that had managed to infect every last one of them.

  Tonight I needed a break from the corporate world and the stress it put me through. Other more important ventures needed my attention. I looked around my room taking the time to appreciate the actual wooden flooring I had installed. The décor consisted of lush, red, and plump love seats with their backs built with sharp and abstract modern angles. They seemed sensual and professional at the same, like a luxury class convertible parked right in the middle of the foyer. I smiled to myself…a simple action that was becoming rarer and rarer as of late…and poured myself a glass of scotch I had more than likely overpaid for, but I needed a taste of reality now. I brought the amber brown liquid to my lips and tasted the rich flavor of the oak barrel it had been aged in, savoring the powerful creeping numbness of the liquor. I set the glass on the table and thought about the union of the living wood and the alcohol that was the product of fermentation and death. Life and death in perfect harmony processed and bottled for the enjoyment of the consumer. Maybe if I had a few more men who truly appreciated scotch in my R & D department I would have a few less grey hairs.

  I glanced impatiently at the clock knowing that the Jack should have delivered his report by now. That knowledge alone was enough to ruin the aged perfection swirling around in my glass. I needed to take my mind off things, I would be damned if I could not relax in my own fucking home. I ran my fingers through my hair and activated my VRN’s augmented reality display. In the upper left hand corner of my vision a small box appeared. I shifted my concentration to this box and a menu opened that provided me with a list of all the electronics in the area that my VRN was capable of accessing. I lingered there for a few moments debating on whether to activate the display monitors or the sound system before ultimately deciding on neither. Where was the Jack? It was extremely disconcerting that he was this late reporting in.

  The Jack had served me so long because of his capability to think for himself and get things done. A rare trait in this world. His history of capability did give me some measure of reassurance. Whatever problems may have arisen would be dealt with and in the meantime worrying was a waste of my brilliant mind. Reluctantly letting out a pent up breath, I acknowledged that using my own invention was in some small way putting me in a better mood anyway… and I suppose the scotch was doing its part as well. I concentrated on my augmented reality menu to pass the time mentally scrolling through various options and settings while I awaited my wayward emissary. Eventually I activated a projector in the center of the room and the built in bio-thermic scanners determined my location and the direction I was. In under a second the wall I was facing was host to a live broadcast of the news.

  “Gang violence is still on the rise. In the past months murder rates have hit record highs and unfortunately show no signs of dwindling. This increase in violence is not occurring behind closed doors either. More and more incidents are occurring in crowded shopping districts, night clubs, and even in broad daylight. The latest in large scale acts of public violence was a shooting that took place at the popular night club “Pangea”. This ongoing story is still under investigation, luckily there were no fatalities however five people were hospitalized and the suspect is still at large. Police drones and personnel are on the scene now and as of yet have refused to issue any comments other than to urge people to stay away from unfamiliar downtown areas at night, to travel in groups, and to avoid anyone who associates with modified alternator and VRN technology. Eye witness accounts are unclear as to the exact description or identity of the shooter but they have confirmed that he is a male between the height of 5’9 and….” I willed the news feed off. Stories like that left me with a dark feeling in the pit of my stomach. Places like Pangea were Alex’s “scene” and it was just that boy’s idiotically bad luck to get caught up in that sort of madness. All I could do is just fucking cross my finger and hope Alex was somewhere out there relatively safe and alive amidst all of that madness. He had to be….. and where the fuck was the Jack? Before I was aware of what I was doing I was nervously pacing around the room. My glass was shattered across the floor and a small puddle of brown liquid pooled around the jagged crystalline fragments. I concentrated on the small box again and brought up the intercom. A short beep indicated it was turned on and I spoke to the directional mics in the room that followed my bio-thermal signature as I paced.

  “Call the escorts. I need to see Monica and Deborah immediately”

  “Right away Mr. Sitavi” came the slightly annoyed voice of my personal assistant. I could have dialed them myself. My phone was in my pocket and the number was already saved but I knew she found these types of tasks distasteful and that was part of the pleasure at all. I paid her well enough that for as long as I wanted, her likes and dislikes were a non-factor. I leaned back in one of my loveseats and waited for the arrival. I didn’t have long to wait. When you can tip as well as I can you never have to. They arrived looking like the life sized Barbie dolls that I crave. The clean impossibility of perfection. Waists, hips, lips, chest, and ass brought to the pinnacle of beauty thanks to surgical science. The blond hair, blue eyes, ivory skin, and ruby red lipstick were just icing on the cake. Perfect features to please me, and dolled up to match the crimson of my room.

  ‘Good evening ladies, it’s wonderful to see you again.”

  “We love it when you call Cid.”

  “Indeed. But before we get to the fun I have a problem I was hoping you could help me with. One of my incompetent staff members appears to have made a small mess. Would you two be so kind as to clean it for me?” I said as I gestured at the glass and alcohol still splayed across the floor. I smiled as I noticed their eyes widen and their shoulders hunch with tenseness instead of assuming one of the naturally seductive poses that I was sure they practiced in the mirror. These ladies cost thousands of dollars for a night of company with no sex guaranteed. They expected not to be wined and dined but rather champaigned and gourmeted. They certainly weren’t maids…at least not for normal men. Fortunately I am not normal and I smile as them as their brains process my ludicrous request.

  “….Youuuuuuuu…… want us to clean this for you?” Monica said, her brain trying its damnedest to process my simple request.

  “Would you mind darling? I’ve had a long day and would really like to enjoy a glass of scotch. The cleaning supplies are in the closet on the other side of the
room.” I replied swiftly; whetting my words with authority so as to leave no room for protest.

  I poured myself a replacement drink and listened to every single “tap” of heels on my wood flooring as Monica gathered cleaning supplies. Equally enjoyable was the view of her low cut, shimmering, and sequined dress as she brushed the shards of glass into a dust pan. The liquor had me even more aroused as I gazed on Deborah’s skin tight dress, which was a slightly darker wine red hue, and the way it hugged her curves as she got down on all fours to wipe up the remainder of the liquid. Money was power and power was pleasure. It was moments like this when I could fully realize why I have worked so hard, why I put up with the daily stress of managing a corporation of this size and influence. A successful man can never truly know peace, but they can occasionally have a deeper appreciation of the struggles of life, the purity of the strong asserting their will over the weak. I licked my lips and had begun to unbutton my clothing when the doorbell rang. The girls had finished cleaning and were now in the process of readjusting their glamorous apparel.

  “Oh. Are we having more company Cid, baby?”

  I crossed over to the door and opened it to see the grim face of the Jack. He rarely ever came to see me directly. Things must be serious and sensitive enough that he didn’t feel comfortable submitting them through the usual channels. I blocked the cracked doorway with my body so that they couldn’t see him. He raised his eyebrow at me and I help a finger upright in the air so that he would know to remain silent.