Lucky 7

by Rae D. Magdon

  I don’t answer her question. Instead, I activate my scanning program on its highest setting. The readings don’t make any sense. I’ve gone up against other jackers using AIs, and even a few specialized AI security programs. But Val is different. There isn’t even a category for her in my database. Shit, this is getting weird. Scary weird.

  “So, Val, Megan, uh, created you?” If my predecessor actually coded the first legitimate FRAI, she must have been a fucking savant.

  “Yes,” Val says.

  “You mean some crazy genius jacker on a crew of misfits managed to do what a bunch of corps with all the resources in the world haven’t been able to figure out yet?”

  “Yes.”

  I laugh in disbelief. “Well, shit.”

  “Your doubts are understandable. Humans are often confused and afraid when they encounter the unfamiliar.”

  “I’m not afraid,” I snap, but if I’m being honest, that’s a lie. I still don’t believe Val is actually a FRAI, but doubts are starting to creep into my mind. What little my scanners can read of her code make it clear she isn’t like anything I’ve ever seen. “You mentioned the Lucky Seven. Who are they?”

  “The Lucky Seven are a team of operatives led by Sasha Young. Current members are: Sasha Young, Rami Hajjar, Cherry Vidal, Doris Wilson, Ralph Wilson, and myself.”

  I snort. With names like Doris and Ralph, it’s no wonder they choose to go by Doc and Rock instead.

  “Past members are: Megan Delaney. Would you like me to add you to the roster of current members, Elena?”

  I do a quick cost-benefit analysis. On the off-chance Val is a legit FRAI, and her primary function is really to assist the crew, it could be to my benefit. “Sure. Why the hell not?”

  “Adding you to the roster of current members. Welcome to the Lucky Seven, Elena Nevares. What are our mission parameters?”

  Right. The mission. I try to refocus, but my brain’s a mess of confusion. I’d expected surprises during this op, but meeting a self-proclaimed FRAI is the absolute last thing I’d imagined. I consider my options. I can’t sit here forever waiting for a corp jacker to stumble across me. Jacking out is a no, not before I wipe the database. It’s forward or nothing.

  “Okay. We need to get through AxysGen’s intranet defense system to their central database node and erase ourselves from Santa’s naughty list. Got it?”

  Val nods. “Mission parameters accepted. Working together, I estimate our probability of success at sixty-four percent.”

  “Only sixty-four percent?”

  “Correct. Acting alone, I estimate your probability of success at twelve percent.”

  I scoff. “Seriously?”

  “Analyzed comparatively, twelve percent is a high probability. Most human jackers would have lower chances of success...without my assistance, of course.”

  “Great,” I grumble. “A FRAI and a smartass. Just what I wanted in a partner.”

  Val smirks again. “I will make note of that in your file.”

  “One more question. How do I know you’re telling the truth about any of this?”

  The smirk on Val’s face vanishes, replaced by a look of sincerity. “The ethical and moral parameters that guide my behavior were modeled after user Sasha Young. I have spent many hours observing her behavior and analyzing her brain activity to facilitate this goal.”

  “That’s not exactly reassuring,” I say, remembering the way Sasha almost mowed down the pedestrians in Paris.

  “Sasha would assist you in this situation. Therefore, I will assist you.”

  “Fine,” I sigh. “I’ll take all the help I can get in here, I guess.”

  “That is a logical choice, considering your probability of success without me.”

  I roll my eyes. “With all those hours of human observation, did you ever learn that sometimes it’s better not to know things?”

  “Acquiring knowledge of human behavior is another of my primary functions,” Val says. “I look forward to learning more by observing you, as well as improving my learning algorithms. Allow me to help us begin.” She waves her hand, and the world in front of us tilts. The large crossbeam tower turns sideways, becoming a glowing red hallway.

  I swallow. This op just keeps getting weirder.

  Friday, 06-11-65 16:23:22

  I’M NOT SURE HOW to walk with Val at first. Going in front puts me right in the line of fire. Hanging back gives Val control of where we’re going and what we’re doing, and I don’t trust my new ‘partner’ enough for that. Eventually I make my doppel lead the way and fall back behind, keeping Val in the corner of my eye.

  A short distance down the hallway, we encounter our first roadblock: a wall of scrolling blue code. I smirk. It’ll get harder from here, but at least the beginning’s easy. I lift my shield, bracing my arm in front of me, and charge. My shoulder jolts with the force of the collision, but my shield is stronger than the forcefield. The code shatters like glass, flying apart around me.

  “I could have rerouted the code to flow in a different direction, or we could have passed through with your cloaking programs,” Val says.

  I roll my shoulders. “But that wouldn’t have been nearly as satisfying.”

  “An interesting decision. I will remember it.”

  “Why do I feel like you’re judging me?”

  “I was not judging you. I am simply observing. Observation is—”

  “One of your primary functions. Yeah, yeah.”

  I step through the human-shaped hole I’ve made. It’s a little ragged-looking, but my shield is coded with automatic alarm-dampeners. My entrance shouldn’t have been detected.

  Past the wall, I proceed more cautiously. The hallway branches off in five different directions, which becomes ten, which becomes one hundred, forming a huge web. I open my inventory and withdraw some spyders to find the right way.

  “Please, allow me to help.”

  I glance over at Val. If she’s sticking around, I might as well make use of her. “Okay, give it a shot. But don’t trigger any alarms.”

  Val gives me a look. “Most humans would likely be offended by that comment. It implies a lack of confidence in the recipient’s abilities.”

  “You really are just like a wordier version of Sasha, aren’t you?”

  Val seems to recognize that as a rhetorical question. Rather than respond, she places her hand against the wall. Streams of golden code travel from her fingertips, branching out in every direction like little beams of sunlight. They race back after a few seconds, disappearing into her palm.

  “Holy shit,” I blurt out. I’ve never seen anybody do something like that, not even as a proof of concept. The fact that Val might be a FRAI suddenly seems a little less crazy. No matter how much experience I have and how good my programs are, I’m just a visitor here, speaking a foreign language. Val seems totally at home, like she’s made of the same fabric as the world around us.

  “This way.” Val motions toward one of the paths on our right.

  I chew my lower lip. This is the tipping point whether I’m going to listen to Val or not. Eventually, I decide to go with it, not because I trust Val, but because I trust Rami. They promised she would help me, and I can’t think of a reason for them to lie. Still, they’re definitely getting an earful if we make it out of this alive. We run into our first trap a short distance down the passageway. It’s invisible, but my scanner picks it up anyway: several square-shaped slivers in the ceiling.

  “Okay, get ready to run.” I suck in a breath and sprint down the hall.

  The moment I step past the first sliver, sharp blades of code swipe down from the ceiling. They fall one after another, a hair’s breadth behind me, but I stay a step ahead. I’ve never been more grateful for upgrading to Dendryte Silver. It cost me a year’s freelance pay and at least half my soul, but it’s clearly worth it. If I was still running Bronze, I wouldn’t have been able to make it.

  I stop at the end of the gauntlet, turning in time to watch my
Doppel avoid the last blade. As my heart rate slows, I see that Val isn’t running. She walks calmly through the row of guillotines, allowing them to pass right through her.

  “Seriously?” I groan, equal parts annoyed and astonished. Chalk up another point in the ‘maybe she actually is a FRAI’ column.

  Val reaches the end of the hallway, looking calm and collected while I struggle to get my breath under control. “I have no biological components for the blades to injure. My intelligence exists in a different form.”

  “Good for you, I guess. Come on, Elena Dos.” I stalk down the hallway, sending my doppel ahead. Val is really starting to get on my nerves, almost as much as Sasha does.

  “Elena, are you sure you’re ready to proceed? Your vitals just spiked.”

  “I’m ready.” I know exactly why my vitals spiked and I definitely don’t want to talk about it. “And stop monitoring me like that. It’s creepy.”

  “Very well. I will route the data to your personal file without analyzing it.”

  “Still creepy.”

  We arrive at the next obstacle: an enormous sea of messages all swarming together. It’s like watching a school of fish swimming this way and that, moving in beautiful currents so they don’t collide with each other. I stare for a second, entranced, until Val clears her throat.

  “Your cloaking programs should be suitable here, Elena.”

  “Okay.” I double-check to make sure my cloak is active—professionals never assume—then slide into the ocean of data.

  When I touch them, the currents change. The messages flow around me and my doppel, leaving a small gap where we can move. I join one of the streams that seems to be heading toward the opposite shore.

  It takes a while to navigate across the vast chasm of data, but I arrive safely. I haul myself out of the intranet ocean, and Val does the same alongside my doppel. The path branches out again on the other shore, and Val gestures left. “This way.”

  The hallway beyond is quiet. My scanner doesn’t pick up any traps, but the stillness doesn’t feel right. Neither does the sharp bend ahead. I creep forward cautiously, preparing to use my stuns just in case.

  That proves to be smart. Two guardog.exe programs round the corner from the opposite direction, and their glowing yellow eyes fix right on me before they raise their heads, howling out a distress signal. I don’t hesitate. Moving lightning-quick, I load a stun into my shield and then lift it, firing a blue beam from its center.

  My stun hits one of the dogs as it leaps for me. It freezes in midair, locked in strands of red code. The other dog goes for my doppel, but it never connects. Val sends a smaller pulse of red shooting from her hand, and the second program falls apart, dissolving until there’s nothing left.

  I look at Val, impressed and also intimidated. “I’m not saying I believe you’re a FRAI,” I grumble, “but if you are, I’m starting to see why Megan made you.”

  Val looks pleased. “She considered me useful, yes. Let’s proceed.”

  We round the corner, coming face to face with another, smaller version of the blue wall from earlier. It’s shaped more like a bubble, and inside is a golden stream of code stretching up through the ceiling and down into the floor.

  “This is our destination,” Val says. “AxysGen’s database of undesirables. Please allow me to lower the shields this time instead of shattering them. Your alarm dampeners are well designed, but AxysGen’s security matrix is extremely sensitive.”

  I cross my arms over my chest. “Fine.”

  Val steps forward, placing both hands inside the blue bubble and pulling its surface apart. Soon the hole is large enough for a person to pass through. I step inside as Val holds it open, reaching out to touch the golden pillar of light.

  A large window pops up, scrolling through names so fast I can’t make sense of them. I run a filtering program, forcing the data to slow down, then remove one of my spyders from my toolbar. “Sasha+Young,” I whisper into my cupped hand.

  The spyder dives into the golden code and returns a few seconds later. The screen comes to a stop, and I look up to see a giant version of Sasha’s face peering down at me. She looks younger, softer. The scar on her throat is noticeably absent.

  Before I delete the profile, I can’t help but study it. There’s surprisingly little information:

  Gender: Female;

  Age: 34;

  Aliases: Wolf, Wolf of the Kremlin;

  POB: United States, Naturalized Russian;

  Wanted For: corporate espionage, grand larceny, stock manipulation, murder,

  property damage, vandalism.

  Status: Deceased.

  That doesn’t make sense. Sure, the world at large thinks Sasha’s dead, but if AxysGen does too, why are they trying so hard to kill her? Besides, tons of AxysGen employees have seen her in the past week alone—in Siberia, Brazil, and especially Paris. Someone must have reported in to say her death was faked and correct the database. I erase the information, but not before clicking into the ‘listed associates’ portion of Sasha’s profile.

  Next up is Cherry.

  Name: Cherry Vidal (formerly Alejandro Vidal)

  Gender: Female (transitioned from male)

  Age: 29

  Aliases: Cherry Bomb, Alejandro

  POB: Venezuela

  Spouse: Rami Hajjar

  Wanted For: corporate espionage, grand larceny, stock manipulation, murder,

  arson, property damage.

  Status: At Large.

  I blink, then take particular delight in erasing Cherry’s deadname from the profile. Bureaucracy is such bullshit. Rami’s profile is similar to Cherry’s, except their place of birth is listed as Palestine and their gender is listed incorrectly as male. I delete that one as well, then Doc’s and Rock’s, although his does contain an interesting detail.

  “Only twenty-one? Damn. He has so many mods it’s hard to tell his age.”

  “Are you almost finished?” Val asks. “The longer we stay here, the greater risk we run of being discovered.”

  I pull up my own profile, curious to see what AxysGen has on me.

  Name: Elena Nevares

  Gender: Female

  Age: 27

  Aliases: escudoespiga (Darkspace username)

  POB: Mexico

  Wanted For: corporate espionage, grand larceny, property damage.

  Status: At Large.

  The picture is a less than flattering one from my ‘bisexual bob’ phase. I erase it from existence, promising to never cut my hair that short again. I get ready to exit the datastream, then remember there’s one more profile to delete. I go back to Sasha’s profile, then select Megan Delaney. The woman staring at me looks young. Happy. She’s white, with long blonde hair and bright green eyes. I stare at her for a moment, unsure why I feel compelled to memorize this woman’s face.

  Name: Megan Delaney

  Gender: Female

  Age: 28

  Aliases: None

  POB: Ireland

  Wanted For: corporate espionage, grand larceny, stock manipulation, murder,

  property damage.

  Status: Deceased.

  The red lettering of ‘Deceased’ blinks at me until I delete the profile.

  “Elena, hurry!” Val shouts.

  I break away from the database. A figure is heading toward us, surrounded by glowing red armor and carrying an assault rifle. The stylized letters ‘AG’ are printed on his chest.

  “Mierda!”

  It’s a corp jacker, probably alerted by the guardog.exe programs from before. We didn’t cut off their sirens soon enough.

  I bolt for the hole Val is holding open, but remember I haven’t finished. I turn back and tap the Poison Fruit icon, and what looks like a green apple glittering with code appears in my hand. Without hesitating, I chuck the apple into the golden column of light. It flashes a toxic green with a glowing red skull in the middle, and then fades back to neutral gold.

  The jacker’s almost on top of us. I
climb through the hole and activate my shield, but he’s focused on my doppel. He fires a red pulse that hits it instead, shattering it into bits of swirling blue. My heart clenches. This guy is using red. That means Puls.wavs instead of stuns. If I get hit, my brain is soup.

  Before I can even raise my shield, another red beam fires—not from the jacker, but from somewhere on my left. It streaks toward him, hitting right in the chest. He freezes, then crumples to the ground

  I try to move my legs, but they won’t respond. I can only turn my head. Val is standing beside me, one hand extended. There are no remnants of light or code around it, but I know she fired that shot. A chill races down my spine. Whatever she is, she’s capable of killing someone…and she did, to save my life. Which means that, in a way, I killed someone.

  This isn’t the first time I’ve seen an enemy jacker go down. My memories of Mumbai are hazy, but I do remember that I killed at least two people during my escape by reflecting a Puls.wav with my shield. Guess that tally is higher now, counting the guard in Siberia, and…this. Val might have fired the Puls.wav, which his terrifying on its own, but I share responsibility. That’s why I don’t carry my own Puls.wavs. I’ll do just about anything to find another way.

  “Remain calm, Elena,” Val says from beside me. “Your vitals have spiked.”

  I flinch, taking a step back from her. “Stay the hell away from me.”

  Val’s expression becomes sad, a surprisingly realistic facsimile of human regret. “I see you are upset, and I understand why. However, I determined using a Puls.wav to be the best course of action in order to ensure your safety.”

  “I didn’t ask you to ensure my safety!” I snap, but I feel shitty immediately afterward. Val did just save my life. I suppose I should be appreciative, although it’s hard to summon any gratitude from within myself.

  “Ensuring the safety of the Lucky 7 is my primary function,” Val says. “However, I am sorry to have caused you distress. And I am sorry I could not find a less violent alternative with the same probability of success.”