Guardian's Rise

by Matthew Renard

  ‘No?’

  ‘Dude, who’re you speaking to?’

  ‘I don’t know. But it’s-’ I stopped, as my voice suddenly lost some clarity and sounded a bit muffled.

  Vocal and auditory output ceased to provide greater clarity in communication. You may speak freely and safely, knowing only I can hear you.

  ‘I don’t even know who you are!’

  SAMI

  ‘Sammy?’ I glared at my friend, who was glancing at Michael. For his part, he seemed serene and almost too-knowing.

  No, not your loud friend. SAMI.

  All but the last four letters dissolved from my eyesight, and the letters spaced themselves out, with more letters materialising.

  Self Aware Multifunction Interface.

  ‘Ohh.’ I still had no idea what was going on, but until the deranged thing projecting things onto my eyeballs decided I didn’t need oxygen, I was willing to play along.

  I have communicated with you before. I am what your colleague Mr Taytum described as a “simplistic AI”.

  ‘You don’t seem particularly simplistic.’

  Thank you. That is nice of you to say.

  ‘So, what are your multi functions?’

  The words popped up one at a time. I monitor your holographic overlay and-

  ‘Suit.’

  Under the previous sentence, more words appeared.

  Processing.

  Processing.

  Unknown input.

  ‘I prefer to think of it as a suit.’

  It is technically me. And it is not a suit, it is a holographic overlay.

  ‘Can we call it a suit?’ I couldn’t believe I was getting sassed by a machine!

  I monitor your holographic overlay suit and provide threat analysis data and GPS. I offer 360 degree real-time information due to nano-cameras inlay into the belt, I can adjust your verbal output by altering the vibrations as they pass through the skin of the force field, can access and display wireless signals of a variety of types, and can also play word-based games on long flights. Should you be of sufficient intellectual acuity to play.

  ‘Did you just...’

  I am sadly unable to offer coloring books and puzzles, nor can I sing songs at this time. Perhaps in a later upgrade.

  ‘Okay, Sammy.’

  SAMI

  ‘Whatever! Let’s get one thing straight - I’m English. Please use English spellings and phrases.’

  Uploading UK English dictionary. Old chap.

  I rolled my eyes. ‘Thank you. Also, what do you mean, you can adjust my verbal output?’

  Your voice is simply vibrations within the air. I can alter those vibrations to suit any pitch, tone and timbre. I can also alter your accent, should you wish to continue your charade of seeming American.

  ‘How did you know about that?’

  I am SAMI. I am your belt. The module you recently added to me was merely my overlay so I could effectively communicate with you, but I have been processing all data since first brought online to check your measurements.

  ‘Wait...’ I thought back. ‘Was that you tapping my feet as the old lady?’

  Affirmative.

  ‘Oh, cool! Anyway... yes. I’d like to sound like an American.’

  Re-opening vocal and auditory outputs. You may begin to speak when ready.

  ‘He’s just standing there, Michael!’ Sammy was yelling, face red. ‘We need to do something.’

  ‘No, you don’t. I’m fine.’ I re-assured him. He jumped about a foot in the air.

  ‘What the hell’s wrong with your voice?’

  ‘Huh?’

  ‘You sound... American! Like, properly American, not that dodgy accent you were trying.’

  You’re welcome

  ‘So, this suit has an AI.’

  ‘Everything these days has a digital assistant. What’s next, the toaster?’

  ‘You know, Sammy, I don’t think a toaster would give me a heads-up display, alter my voice for me and make me sound American.’

  ‘Ah, but can it properly toast crumpets?’ He laughed. ‘What else does it do?’

  ‘Let’s find out!’ I tapped the disc and the HUD vanished along with my suit. ‘Do we have roof access?’

  ‘Of course.’ Michael smiled. ‘And we’re the second tallest building in Capehill, so it’s quite a view.’

  The door at the top of the stairwell screeched in protest as it was forced slightly ajar, and then the wind caught it, slamming it wide open. Michael, Sammy and I stepped out one after the other, and I took a proper look at the cityscape, taking in a sharp breath as I took it the view stretching out around me. Looking North, I got the best view of the buildings, and got a new appreciation of The Shining City. The sun on my right turned half the city into a wall of light, and the left-hand side was in shadow - from my perspective, the world was bisected into black and white. I pushed thoughts of Emily out of my mind and tapped the disc on the belt. The HUD flashed up into my vision again, and on top was a scrolling compass indicating I was slightly off North. I turned to face it properly.

  Alignment complete.

  Below the compass on the right-hand side was a number. 672.

  ‘SAMI, what’s that number for? The 672.’

  ‘What number?’ Sammy looked confused and looked around as SAMI answered my question.

  672 refers to the height we are currently at in Feet. Would you like it changed to Metres?

  ‘No, feet is fine, thank you.’ I glanced over to Sammy and realised he didn’t know I was looking at him. I turned my head, so he’d know I was talking to him. ‘I was talking to the AI, not you. Sorry.’

  ‘You named your AI Sammy?’

  ‘No, it’s SAMI.’

  ‘Sammy.’

  ‘SAMI.’

  ‘Right. Sammy.’

  ‘It’s an acronym.’

  ‘So’s your face.’

  Michael shook his head. ‘This isn’t going to get old at all.’

  ‘How about you hold up a hand when you’re talking to the AI?’

  ‘How about I just call you Samuel... Samuel?’

  Before he could respond, I broke into a sprint and dove off the roof.

  You know that feeling you get when you’re on a roller coaster? That fraction of a second before you’re forced into a plummet along the tracks below, and you feel weightless? I’ve always maintained that it’s that precise feeling that people love roller coasters so much - not for the thrill of rocketing at around 80mph or so (although that can be fun) or the silly photos people take for the automated cameras... no, it’s that single split second of feeling like you’re really flying. Imagine, if you can, taking that feeling and stretching it out, so that single moment lasts for seconds, then minutes, then hours...

  I can’t properly explain how it feels to be able to fly. “Good” doesn’t do it justice. It’s the first time Emily told me she loved me and seeing Sammy’s face after I got my sight back, and the hug of my father after a job well done when I was a child. It’s all those feelings and more; even after all this time. It felt good, and right, like I should have always been able to fly. Not that it came naturally, you understand - that first flight was more about getting to grips with the basics. But finesse comes with practice, and I knew, from the first moment I leapt, that I would be practising a lot.

  Pulling up, I soared high above the buildings, and just for the sheer thrill of it, pulled a tight spin, holding my arms out in front of me, fists clenched. Realising I was inverted, I spun myself rightway up. Glancing back at my feet, I had a thought.

  ‘Sami?’

  Mr Anson?

  ‘Could you do something about... you know.’

  No. Please be more specific.

  I sighed. ‘Could you do something about my feet? Like...I don’t know. Make it look cooler when I’m flying?’

  What is the practical application of making you look “cooler” when you’re flying?

  I was stumped.

  There is a 97% chance t
hat you merely want this to be a cosmetic and impractical change to your holographic overlay suit.

  ‘That still leaves me with three percent!’

  There is a three percent margin of error.

  ‘Oh.’

  However, I could increase the external temperature to the soles of the feet, and extract water particles from the air around to simulate steam. In a high enough concentration and displaced properly, this would appear to be smoke. To the untrained observer.

  ‘Yeah, go for it!’

  Compliance.

  I peeked back down at my feet, and slowly saw what certainly looked like smoke coming from my feet.

  ‘You’re the best, Sami.’

  I am the only SAMI.

  ‘Yeah, okay.’ I thought some more. ‘So, you control the sound vibrations from inside the suit?’

  Yes.

  ‘Can you produce sounds? Tones and the like?’

  Yes.

  ‘Then why don’t you speak to me? Have a voice, rather than just appear as words?’

  ‘That’s a particularly good question.’ A female and very sultry voice asked, startling me. ‘I did not consider that.’

  ‘Uhm... that’s a very nice voice, and all, but could you make it a bit less... “come to bed”?’

  ‘Yeah, man.’ Sammy’s voice rang in my ears. ‘How about this?’

  ‘No. I’ll get confused over who’s talking to me.’

  ‘Fine.’ The original voice came back in my ear, sounding sulky but more business-like. I shook my head.

  ‘Right. Where should we go to?’

  ‘I have been scanning police radio frequencies. Highway Patrol Officers are calling a 10-36 just outside Capehill.’

  ‘Let’s go!’

  In my vision, a green arrow appeared, pointing me the direction I should be going. ‘Hey, this is just like all the racing games I used to play.’

  ‘Information logged. Recommend a high-speed turning manoeuvre.’ A translucent version of myself showed in my vision, and I matched my virtual ghost as best I could, until I was faced the other way.

  ‘Oh, cool! That’s like in tons of games, too.’

  ‘Information logged.’

  As I saw the Foundation building looming in my sights, I grinned. ‘Sami, can you phone Sammy?’

  ‘Compliance.’

  There was a pause, and then ‘Hello?’ I heard a familiar, and human, voice.

  ‘Tower, this is Ghost Rider requesting a fly-by.’

  Sammy laughed. ‘Negative, Ghost Rider. The pattern is... holy sh-!’ I roared past the top of the tower as quickly as I was able, drowning out his shout.

  ‘That felt good.’ I muttered to myself, grinning as I headed towards the danger.

  ‘Information logged.’

  I felt surprisingly defensive. ‘Everybody needs a hobby.’

  ‘Information logged.’

  ‘Sami... is that your way of saying you don’t care?’

  ‘Yes. It is extraneous information which is not needed. However, it has been logged in the exceptionally unlikely event it ever comes up and will be needed in the future.’

  ‘Information logged, Sami.’

  We found the police cruiser a few miles east of the airport. The black and white vehicle looked empty, abandoned by the side of the road, and the door was open. No other vehicles for miles around, or so Sami informed me.

  ‘Okay, Sami. Keep monitoring satellites and keep an eye out for anything suspicious looking.’

  ‘Compliance.’ Sami affirmed, as I landed. I saw nobody and heard nothing. ‘Hello?’ I called out. ‘Officer?’ I turned slowly, taking in the landscape. The road was lined by trees, and I was acutely aware that at any moment, I could be ambushed. ‘This is...’ I sighed inwardly. ‘Fire Guardian. Do you require assistance?’

  Nothing.

  ‘Sami, something’s wrong here.’

  ‘Information logged.’

  ‘Sami! We’re talking about human life.’

  ‘My primary concern is the preservation of the life of my owner. All other matters are secondary.’

  I snorted. ‘It’s good to know you care.’

  ‘Affirmative.’ There was a slight pause, and her... it’s tone got slightly accusatory. ‘Have you considered switching your vision to thermal imagery?’

  I did so, sighing slightly. The world changed to a deep green, with the outline of the police cruiser a dull orange, except for the front, which displayed as a yellow.

  ‘The car’s been used recently, the engine’s still warm.’

  I ignored Sami telling me that the information had been logged, and I did a slow sweep of the area. As I turned to the right, with the police cruiser behind me, Sami chirped up, making me jumped.

  ‘Incoming hostile.’

  ‘Where?’

  The ratcheting of a shotgun answered that before Sami could. I switched back to my regular vision, and the cooling car was replaced

  ‘Put your hands over your head and turn around slowly.’

  I raised my arms. ‘Mr Anson, what are you doing?’

  ‘I’m doing as I’m told, Sami.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘He has a gun, Sami.’

  ‘We are bullet proof.’

  ‘Still...’

  ‘Presenting view of hostile.’ An image appeared in my vision, like a picture-in-picture display. It was a member of the Highway Patrol, his French Mustard uniform blending into the greens and browns of the forest behind us.

  ‘Turn around!’ The officer repeated, his voice tense. I did so, hands high, until my vision matched that of the picture-in-picture view Sami was presenting me. It vanished when they were identical, and the threat display I had noticed earlier flashed up again. The officer was outlined a yellow, but unlike with Sammy, it didn’t change to green. Words displayed in the bottom of my vision:

  Minimal Threat.

  ‘Officer, I’m-’

  ‘I don’t give a rats ass, son. You Capes think you can fly around and, what? Damage my car? Pick it up and steal it? I’ve heard all about your silly games, and I’m not impressed.’

  ‘No, sir.’ I decided that polite deference and formality would be the way to go. ‘I heard you calling for assistance and came to help.’

  ‘Assistance?’ He kept the shotgun trained on me. ‘Son, do you think I called for assistance when I was taking a leak just now? What, you want to hold it for me or something?’

  ‘No, sir.’ I stammered. ‘My suit picks up police band, and it heard you call for a 10-36.’ I shrugged slightly, hands still in the air. ‘I wanted to help. It’s what I do.’

  ‘You heard me call for...’ He lowered the shotgun. ‘Shoot, son. A 10-36? That was a time check.’ He showed me his left wrist. ‘My watch is busted, and I wanted to know the time.’ He looked at me more intently. ‘Hey, aren’t you that Cape I read about in the paper today?’

  ‘We definitely need to look into the police codes.’ I murmured to Sami as we flew back to the city.

  ‘Affirmative.’ Sami replied, sounding a little chastened.

  ‘A time check.’ I shook my head as I landed back on the roof and turned off the hologram and force field. Heading back down to Michael’s office, I saw him and Sammy sat at Michael’s desk, smiling at me. ‘How’d it go?’ Michael asked, innocently.

  ‘Oh. It was... fine.’ I lied, somewhat smoothly.

  ‘You should tell us about it some time.’ Sammy cracked up at his own joke, whilst I stood, staring down at him. I sighed and waited until he had calmed down, and that’s when I noticed leaflets scattered on the desk. Each a piece of A4, with large photos of houses on them.

  ‘What’s this?’

  ‘Sammy and I were looking into suitable accommodation for you both during your stay here. We can buy the property through the Foundation and use it as a company retreat when you’re not there.’ Michael waved a hand dismissively. ‘Now personally, I think this one here would be perfect. It overlooks Meadowbrook, and has an exquisite view
of-’

  ‘What about this one?’ I asked, the corner of a photo catching my eye.

  ‘Oh...’ Michael shook his head, brushing a hand through his designer stubble. ‘You don’t want that one. There’ve been some... incidents.’

  ‘Incidents?’ Sammy sat up a bit straighter.

  ‘That’s the old Phillips place, over in Willowbrook. It’s been abandoned for about a year or so, now.’ Michael shrugged. ‘There are reports that say it’s... well, it’s haunted.’

  ‘Haunted?’ I smirked. ‘A haunted house? Please. There’s no such thing as ghosts.’

  ‘They used to say that about aliens.’ Michael pointed out. ‘And whilst I would normally be the first to agree with you, there have been too many strange things going on, certainly in the last few months. Nobody will step foot near it unless they have to.’ He looked me in the eye, dead serious. ‘People who go into the Phillips mansion don’t come out again, Jason.’

  The tense silence was broken by Sammy. ‘We ain’t afraid of no ghost!’

  I regarded him from the corner of my eye. ‘You were terrified for months that Chucky was going to come and get you.’

  ‘Yeah, but that’s voodoo, not ghosts.’ Sammy muttered under his breath, just loudly enough that I could hear.

  I examined the picture. The house was beautiful! If someone had said to me “draw a large American house”, and I had any artistic skills whatsoever, this is the house I would have drawn. Impressive, but not ostentatious. Large, sprawling garden, sitting on top of a cliff that overlooked the ocean... or at least a large stretch of water. A map even showed it was mostly secluded, so people wouldn’t see me taking off or landing if I chose to fly instead of drive. Grey siding which looked like they had once been white, a three storey, beautiful house which I could honestly see turning into a home.

  I looked over the details. Six bedrooms. Five bathrooms, including three en-suites. Air conditioning (which I was gradually starting to accept as an absolute must, even in December), a fireplace in the...

  ‘Is that a ballroom?’

  Michael looked over the details. ‘Originally, yes. It’s where Mr Phillips used to host his parties. It’s one of the reasons it was on the original list; we could do fundraisers there.’

  I think it was the fireplace that made it. I had always wanted to live in a home with one. Or maybe it was the library, with its old-fashioned wood panels, so reminiscent of my father’s study. Whatever it was, something inside me clicked and I knew, then and there, that I had to see it for myself.