The Red Girl

by Thomas Davis

  VERSATILE LAYER BOOK 1: THE RED GIRL

  War. How does it start? How does a seed of misunderstanding burrow deep into man’s fractured soul then grow into a flaming tree of violence? How did the warm flow of blood become normal?

  What gain is there to war?

  How does hatred for a race become the lens through which we see things? Why can’t our differences be the unifying trait of our similarities? Questions swirl in my head like the vultures I read about.

  How did this war begin?

  The same way all wars begin. It slowly starts because people are afraid and don’t understand each other. They allow silly notions darken common sense until it snowballs.

  Why do I fight in the war?

  Because everything is my fault.

  1

  Behold a Wreckage

  Travis Takeda summoned the members of his salvage crew with a wild impatient hand gesture. Around him was nothing but space dust that extended for undulating leagues that sometimes jutted out abruptly before flattening out. They were out searching for relics and data on Jophiel, which was the fifth planet from the sun and the closest to neutral territory. Beyond this neutral space was Samael, the home planet of the Arez. Humankind and Arez had been at war eighty years ago then the makeshift pact was initiated after both sides suffered heavy losses. The cause of the war is wrapped in shadows and unclear facts but the pain it caused still remained in the graves that swallowed the dead and the hearts of loved ones left behind. Although this pact was put in place, neither race saw eye-to-eye. Survival relied solely on cordoning off certain sectors as neutral zones that served as binding ropes to a peace that was waiting to break.

  Crossing over into non-neutral territory required layers of paperwork, bottle neck, and assigned security and even then coming out alive wasn't guaranteed.

  Most of the fighting had happened near Jophiel and a great many battleships crashed upon the surface of the behemoth world. So, it made perfect sense to Travis and his crew to come salvaging here. He could've used his communicator but his excitement inhibited his ability to keep the cool needed to operate it. The space suit that housed him was large and awkward. As he waved his hands above his head then from side to side, it made him look like a man-sized toddler. An unenthusiastic older gentleman with a snout and receding hairline sat in the cockpit of the freighter not far away from where Travis waved. He slightly rolled his eyes then squinted as he observed Travis through the viewport. It seemed Travis had found something significant beyond the ridge he was perched on and was excited for them to come over to where he was. The man with the snout called it in on his communicator,

  “Attention all. Sal here. Travis needs all by the ridge close to the freighter. It seems to be something really important.” Static followed the curt announcement followed by abrupt silence.

  “Any idea what it is?” asked a voice marked by excitement.

  “No idea. Just bring yourself here before he loses his arms in a bid to get our attention.”

  Although Travis owned the salvage company and didn't have to do surface walks himself, he nevertheless partook in every part of it. In simpler terms, it could be said that he enjoyed breathing in the air on other planets – technically, it’s oxygen from his home planet forced into a tank. He looked forward to the adventure afforded by the trek and liked to stretch his legs from time to time. The thrill seeker disappeared beyond the ridge when he saw three of his crew emerge from the freighter's airlock. Their spacesuits were two shades duller than his and not as ill-fitting.

  When they caught up to Travis, he was standing in front of a bad wreckage. To the untrained eye, the squashed metal may come off as nothing, but for people who have had to comb through debris and scores of shrapnel in order to strike gold, an Arez cruiser was of course obvious. But there was something that felt off about this ship.

  He pursed his lips, pressed the com controller stitched to his suit and asked, "Do you guys notice anything odd about this crash site?"

  He couldn’t put his finger on why he felt this was different from the other ships he had salvaged off Jophiel. For one, it was torn apart but for some strange reason; the pieces that were strewn across the ground still had power. This was a recent crash, he surmised. And yet, that did not explain away the gnawing feeling groping at his heart. Slowly he let his eyes linger on the path created by the crash.

  “Come on, Travis,” began Sal. “There isn’t anything odd here. This may be one of your creative theories at work.”

  “You really think that?” Travis queried without really looking at Sal. It was true that Travis had a penchant for conspiracy theories or creative theories as they chose to call them within the salvage crew, but he was almost never wrong whenever he made such observations. His ability to sniff out trouble had brought them close to death on more than one occasion – too numerous to count would be an accurate estimation. So, the best the crew could come up with was to dissuade him whenever he had his eyes set on cracking invisible codes. They have failed in all their attempts.

  But Sal wasn’t going to give up. “Yes, I do. This is only a wreckage. It is similar to the same piece of crap we have been collecting. There isn’t anything fishy here.”

  Travis turned to face him with a curious look plastered on his face. The sun was slowly rising to his left and its light painted half his face in whispers of orange. "I never said fishy. Are you high right now?”

  “No,” Sal grumbled.

  “I cannot hear you.”

  “I am not high or drunk or anything close to what you are suggesting.”

  “Well, if you aren’t inebriated then I wonder when you heard me use the word fishy here on Jophiel. I said the crash and the site around it looks odd. Something doesn’t add up yet. These panels shouldn’t be powered.”

  “What if it is a new model?”

  “It may be, but I can’t say particularly that this is what I feel is missing.”

  His crew looked on in silence and puzzlement. At times like this, it was better to let Travis go through the motions and calculate whatever was going on in his mind. There was nothing they could do once he made it to the second level of his oddity. The first level usual involved him asking them questions. By the second level, it becomes a case of Travis speaking Travis and this was a language none of them spoke well. Slowly, he touched the glass shield on his helmet with his slightly bent index finger. He had worn glasses in his youth and had developed a habit of poking the frame on the bridge of his nose. Even though he no longer needed the aid of prescription glasses, he still adjusted his nonexistent specs.

  "No bodies,” he finally said after a long pause and contemplation. His brows formed waves of confusion and he licked his lips hastily. “Hughes, go back to the top of the ridge and keep your eyes peeled.”

  “Why– ” Hughes began to say.

  “Just do it.”

  The short, squat man called Hughes made a run for the ridge. They all knew to swiftly obey Travis when he got like this. On more than one occasion it had been established that their survival relied on how quickly they obeyed him because it usually meant danger was around.

  “Sal?”

  “Yes?”

  “Go and bring the freighter real close. We have to work swiftly."

  Curtly, Sal turned around and made for the freighter he had alighted from moments ago.

  As Travis hurriedly issued commands he noticed something out of the corner of his eye. A purple glow emanated from the wreckage.

  "Crystals?" He thought out loud. He was hopeful it would be crystals because crystals mainly powered Arez technology and they could only be found on their home world. These crystals contained enormous amounts of power and were in high demand. The government paid a ton of money to anyone who had inf
ormation about them. Now, after decades of slaving by crews and salvaging the wreckage on Jophiel, these crystals have all but vanished. Travis knew how much he would get if he actually brought in a crystal. They would all be set for life and have no need for work ever again. His thoughts fished images of his wife and son and how proud their smiles were.

  “Work faster, people.” He commanded with a needless wave of his arms. There was an eagerness eating at him, urging him to get through the wreckage and become a hero in his family’s eyes. Yes, this was the glue he needed. Everything will go back to normal once I strike gold here, he thought. The salvage crew worked hard to remove the debris concealing the glowing object. Travis hopped from side to side then directed their efforts. His eagerness was loud enough to be heard in all the systems. Finally, the final layer was reached and he shoved Sal aside so he could pull it off himself. Travis looked excited and confused by what was before him.

  2

  High Fives

  “Jake.” The female voice bounced on the walls of the sparse and unkempt room.

  “Jake…” came the voice again with sternness. There was no response from the sleeping person on the bed.

  “JAKE, WAKE UP!!!” The scream got a response this time. A grunt, nothing more. The source of the sound was a hologram that lighted up next to the head of the bed. He rolled off the bed and fell to the floor with a thud. Jake’s sluggish movements screamed half asleep. He reached for the nightstand from the floor, feeling his way with slightly long digits that came away with his glasses. He put them on, sighed, then rolled on his back.

  "Jake!!!" came the female voice once again with undertones of annoyance. Jake bolted right up then adjusted his glasses with his index finger. He let them settle near the bridge of his nose.

  "Mom,” he half grunted. “I'm awake. You can stop yelling now."

  “Do you have any idea how long I have been calling out to you? Do you have any idea what time it is? You are practically late for– ”

  “It couldn’t have been more than five minutes. Besides, I somehow always don’t go in late.”

  “Don’t talk smart to me this morning. It is too early for that.”

  “Be smart they say,” he said in a low growl.

  Her brows arched and her mouth pursed. “What was that?”

  “Nothing, mom. I’ll be down in a bit.” She rolled her eyes before the hologram went off. Jake stood up from the floor as he pulled a half-finished puzzle cube off his bed. It was partially completed save for some twelve or so mismatched colors. He had fallen asleep while playing with it the night before. He must have been really tired because sleep hardly overtook him while he played with the cube. The puzzle cube was the one thing that helped clear his mind at the end of the day. It was the one tool that could puncture his clouded thoughts and file away his sometimes muddied thought process. He tapped the black Navi device strapped to his wrist and with a few clicks pulled up the Shangri-La ghost server.

  shngla/lhs/srv/0001976/upload.dat

  Twenty minutes later, Jacob or Jake as he was popularly called, walked down the spiral staircase that opened into the kitchen. He had showered and donned his school uniform, which included a black jacket, white button-down shirt with black tie, and checkered slacks tucked into calf-high socks with a diamond pattern. A leather briefcase was slung over his shoulder containing his data-pad for his studies. Both hands held the puzzle cube and his face was painted with concentration. The black jacket he wore matched his curly hair that was almost always unkempt despite its large mass. It was almost as coarse as his mother's hair but she had always kept hers neatly tied in a bun. His glasses’ frame disappeared into the wild mane before reaching his ears. Feature-wise, Jacob was a compromise between both of his parents. Although he was closer to his mother's soft dark complexion, he possessed his father's eyes and jaw line – which was the trademark of a blooded Takeda. Standing at about an average height for a 16-year-old, he was neither fat nor skinny.

  His mother, Annabelle Takeda, was at the kitchen table when he came down. Her arms folded over her chest and her eyes narrowed. She was strikingly different from the holographic images from before. Currently, a Narakov IV pedestrian chassis housed her. It was a sleek, metallic–almost silver robotic body. These bodies were commonly referred to as Frames as they served as hosts to the mind of the owner. Her organic body had perished years ago from complications during childbirth.

  Like all productive members of society, her mind was accepted into the Shangri-La Ghost server upon physical death. She wanted to be there for her son whenever he needed her and the frame system provided that. Beyond codes and virtual living that only responded when someone was in need, the Frame gave her the opportunity to be there in person. Frames afforded loved ones the room to physically and mentally interact with those they had lost. It's creation and eventual rollout fed some much-needed hope to a people stricken by loss and grief. At great expense, her husband Travis purchased a frame for her to be downloaded into. When they first they came out decades ago, Frames were a rarity and cost a lot.

  This made it only available to the wealthy and elite class of society. But with the advent and strides in technology, they had become common.

  Annabelle was wearing a white sleeveless blouse with a navy blue dress that draped her legs down to her ankles. Slim, polished metallic arms that bragged of impeccable craftsmanship came out the blouse’s opening. When close enough, one could almost make out their reflection on certain parts of her body. Frames like these usually took time to produce due to the high level of material and expertise needed. Everything about the Frame, from the interior circuits right down to the bolts was custom-made for Annabelle’s taste. She had made a list of requirements that was improved upon by the design board so as to glean maximum satisfaction for the consumer and family members alike.

  But, like the vast majority of Frames in circulation, she dressed her new body in the same manner as her original. This wasn't an unnatural tendency for the minds uploaded to the server. At first, it had baffled the sociologists to see these passed on members of society dress in the same way; they had imagined most people were full of regrets and wished that things would go differently for them now that they had a second chance. It did not make a lick of sense until they attributed the desire to a glitch during the upload.

  Jake dropped his school bag on a chair at the table as he walked past his mother to the kitchen counter. He decided to put down the cube before reaching into the cupboard above his head. His hands came away with a box. It wasn’t the one he wanted so he put it back and rummaged some more. After two failed attempts, he succeeded. Quickly, he poured the content of the box into a machine on the counter close to the sink and punched in some buttons. He depressed a green button on the right side and smiled as the whirring sound began. Almost instantly, it beeped then he proceeded to remove the small tray of scrambled eggs being conveyed through an opening in the front.

  "No cheese?" Jake groaned as he flopped down onto the chair behind him. He refused to meet her gaze but could feel his mother peering at him as he took a bite.

  He knew that she knew. There was no point in hiding it any longer. "I guess you got a call from the campus Administrator," He said nonchalantly.

  There was a long pause before she spoke. Jake thought she had not heard him. "He said you have been late for first period every day this week. Which is strange because you leave this house with ample time to get to school on time." For a second, Jacob was taken aback by the redundant structure of Anne's last sentence. There was no strain in her voice even though he could tell she was visibly upset. That was the thing about his mother; her voice could lie about her emotions. He had to learn this fact through experience and on a lot of those occasions favor wasn’t on his side.

  Mentally, he ran the numbers and the sentences that could get him sorted quickly. He tried to come up with a satisfactory answer that would also get him out of the house without unnecessary drama. Nothing particular was coming t
o his mind. Rather, with every possibility of success, he saw many routes by which they would fall flat. He decided to concentrate on his food and buy more time. The scrambled eggs went into his mouth by the shovels while his eyes darted in various directions.

  The back door flew open as Travis Takeda exploded into the kitchen.

  "Last night, I came across the greatest find of my career!" He announced. Travis was a stark opposite to Annabelle when it came to his voice and emotions. Every ounce of his emotions found their way into his voice; he could be unusually loud at such moments. He grinned ear to ear and held up both hands to receive high fives from his wife and son. Jacob immediately seized the opportunity to escape. In a swift motion, he jumped from the kitchen table, collected his school bag and puzzle cube then slapped his father's palm as he slipped past him through the door to freedom. "That's incredible news Pops!" He said while shutting the door. Annabelle didn’t realize what had happened until the door closed. She made a dash for the door, spinning Travis in the process.

  "We're not done here, young man!" She yelled as soon as she yanked the door open.

  He was already on the street with a mischievous grin on his face.

  "I'm going to be late.” He yelled as he started to jog. “Gotta go!" He added with a wave. Anne’s countenance grew dark. She turned back to face Travis who still had his hand raised and a ridiculous grin in place.

  "When have I ever responded to your high five requests? You are just the worst!" She exited the kitchen with a shake of the head. “Showing up at the most awkward of times and undermining my parenting skills.” He could not make out her grumble or why he was being blamed for what just happened.

  "Something I said?" He asked no one in particular. Travis was all-alone in the kitchen with a plate of unfinished breakfast.

  3

  Well, hello!