Evolution Z

by Everist J Miller

  "We need to finish laying the concrete by lunchtime," Mike added.

  It was impossible. How could he meet those deadlines and still get it right? Mike didn't supervise. He just ticked boxes. Ray was responsible. End of the line. Where the buck stopped. Fuck. He had no choice. If he didn't do it, there would be somebody who would. The volunteers left many people without jobs and there was frantic competition.

  Another blue volunteer on the HUD. Great. Four tasks to check. Four volunteers to reassign. "Why are my volunteers idle Ray? I need that floor done ASAP, okay." Mike again, a sharp needle in Ray's chest.

  Ray couldn't concentrate. His brain was broiling. He wanted to rip his hard hat off and throw it off the edge of the building. I hate this, his mind screamed. I HATE THIS. Fuck, he thought. Fuck them. Fuck this whole place.

  Because Ray was distracted, he hadn't noticed that one volunteer, headset serial number 74567EX, glowed red on his HUD. They all called it Exy. Ray didn't know why the volunteers had nicknames. It made little sense to give a nickname to a tamed killer.

  Shit. He noticed all of a sudden the bright red flickering in his HUD. Now I'm fucked, his inner voice screamed. Because of your little hissy fit you've fucked everything up. You fucking ugly piece of canned shit. You are nothing. Fucking nothing. If you lose this job, you may as well be dead.

  Then he saw why the volunteer was flashing red. It was doing something it wasn't supposed to be doing. It had moved on to the next task without being told. How could it do that?

  Ray selected the rogue volunteer and ordered it to cease all activity. It was Exy. It shrugged. Actually shrugged. No fucking way. This had never happened. Then it stopped as it should.

  How to explain that to Mike? Well, it was a fault with the HUD. The HUD was broken or there was a bug. But how did the volunteer shrug? Surely the HUD can't make it shrug?

  Maybe it didn't shrug. Maybe he imagined it.

  "Mike," he said into the mic, his lip quivering and voice crackling.

  "This better be quick Ray." Yeah, because Mike was probably playing video games. Busy guy.

  "I think the HUD… maybe malfunctioned," Ray said.

  "Mal-func-tioned?" Mike asked. "That's a big word Ray." Typical teasing, Ray thought. When would it ever stop?

  "I think it's got a bug… or something," Ray replied.

  "Get to the point, okay," Mike said.

  "One of the volunteers did something I didn't ask it to."

  "What the fuck do you mean?" Mike asked. "Did something? What? What did it do Ray?"

  "It… It… s-s-tarted… a new… task."

  "Because you probably told it to, okay. You must have hit a button, Ray. Volunteers don't do anything without being told, okay."

  "I don't think so," Ray hesitated. Could he have hit a button without noticing?

  "Do you think, or do you know? I don't have time for this crap, okay. Just get on with it. We're all under pressure to get this done."

  What the hell am I meant to do? Ray asked himself. He had doubts now. Did he hit a button by mistake? He hadn't even selected that volunteer. Maybe he selected the volunteer and hit the task button by mistake. But two button hits by accident? Two? And then hitting the exact next task at random?

  Ray's head was burning as he tried to think of a comeback. If he didn't keep Mike's attention that would be it. He would have to continue, probably with a buggy HUD, and who knows what could happen. The thought kept coming back to him. It shrugged. Fucking shrugged. That was scary. The worst thing would be if the volunteer's headset had malfunctioned. That sent a chill through him. Mike would never believe that. Check the HUD first. Go check the HUD first. Must convince Mike.

  "I'll download the HUD's history," Ray said. That was it. Ray was meticulous about keeping the history of commands and responses in the HUD's memory. Mike hated it because it took more time, but Ray ignored him on that one. The policies required a clear record. Mike shouldn't complain. But he was such a damned bully.

  "We don't have time for that, okay," Mike said. "Fuck Ray. No."

  The urgency in Mike's tone tempted Ray to let it go, but the thought of a rogue volunteer pinched him. He had to press the point even if he was scared shitless of authority.

  "If the HUD's broken-"

  "It's not broken," Mike retorted.

  "But if it's broken," Ray persisted, "we might not get the job done on time."

  "It's fine. Fucking fine Ray, okay."

  "It might not be to standard," Ray said.

  "For fuck's sakes." Mike sounded breathless. After a pause he said, "All right. Get a download. Go ahead. Quick. But if there's nothing wrong with it and you hit the wrong button, then this is all on you, okay. You'd better hope you can catch up."

  Ray was scared. Shit scared either way. Just get on with it, he said to himself. It probably was his mistake. What if it was? He'd lose his job. What if it wasn't?

  But you're out there with them, he thought. Remember when they were out of control? But they're not. They're safe now. They're safe. What the fuck are you thinking? You're going to lose your job over this. This will be the worst mistake you've ever made.

  If I lose my job, I'll kill myself. Life is such a cruel joke. If I'm going to die eventually, then I may as well do it on my own terms. It would be worse to be with an out-of-control volunteer. That would be worse than mere death.

  "We have to check," Ray said and was surprised to have said it out loud.

  "Your decision," Mike said. "Your responsibility, okay."

  Ray couldn't weasel out. It was his decision.

  What to do? It shrugged. It fucking shrugged.

  CHAPTER TWO

  THE CONTROL ROOM was on the ground level. Ray needed to get to it to download the command history from his HUD.

  Ray discarded his harness, raced to the construction hoist, his back to the volunteers. He had shut them down. All of them. He was concerned that the bug in the HUD could be infectious. All the volunteers were connected to it.

  Ray was at the hoist. He slid the car doors open and walked in, unaware of the dark figure behind him.

  Ray felt a breeze brush past him as he was closing the final gap in the car doors. He turned to investigate and startled, almost jumping out of his own God given skin suit. It was a volunteer. With him. In the confined space of the hoist. It was standing next to the console.

  But I shut it down, Ray said to himself. How could it have got here? Holy shit, was it following me?

  Ray backed away and spun to open the car doors. He stumbled as the hoist jerked into movement without warning. The volunteer, he realised, had punched a landing into the keypad.

  But how? Who was controlling it?

  Doug, he thought. A cruel joke at his expense. Not the first time. Where was Doug hiding? Not in the hoist. Was he tracking the volunteer from a distance?

  Ray hit a button on his helmet reflexively. His HUD flashed on. The HUD read the volunteer's serial number. 74567EX. Exy.

  The hoist slowed. Jolted. Bumped. Hiccuped to a stop. Exy turned to the console. It pressed keys frantically.

  Ray worked to mirror on his HUD the view from a camera on the volunteer's headset. He zoomed into the console. Instead of a landing number, it displayed "ERR 428".

  Unbelief. What was going on? I'm stuck in a lift, Ray thought, with an unpredictable volunteer.

  The volunteer ambled towards him, its movement eccentric. Ray winced. It stopped beside him. The volunteer's slim, bony finger, peeking through its skin suit, tapped Ray on the shoulder. Ray moved to brush it off like a menacing spider. Ray scurried to the other side of the hoist and backed against a cold metal wall.

  He had nowhere to hide. Hiding had been his strategy during the V-Crisis. Hiding even from the volunteers in his own family.

  Ray stared at the unpredictable predator, afraid to even blink. His eyes stung. It moved forward. He braced. It backed away. It growled and extended a bony digit towards the console. The bone peeked out of its tight skin sui
t. There was a box on the console with an oversized bright red button in the middle. It had a shine, unlike the other buttons tarnished with use. An alarm.

  The volunteer pointed and growled but didn't press the button. It stepped back. Paused. Looked up at Ray. Waited.

  Ray felt a surge of adrenalin. This wasn't the V-Crisis. He had a HUD. He switched his attention to it. Broken or not, it was the only way. Whatever's going on here I still have a chance, he realised.

  He used an emergency command that caused the volunteer to flash red on his HUD like the bulb of a fire alarm. Now I can kill it, he thought. Emergency mode allowed him to end the volunteer at the press of a virtual button.

  I should have realised the HUD could protect me, Ray thought, enveloped with the heat of shame. "I'll blow your fucking brain to mush," Ray whispered to the image of the volunteer in his HUD. But he wondered if he could do it.

  The volunteer wasn't supposed to understand him, but it froze.

  Stupid thing, Ray thought. Stupid me. God, I'm a fool, panicking like that. It's just a working brain stem. How could I be such a moron?

  Ray took a deep breath. What an ungodly stench. Hadn't it been fed?

  He tried to think of what to do next, not taking his eyes off the volunteer. Its eyes appeared focussed, strangely human instead of the bile coloured beastly eyes of a volunteer. But its eyes were not on him. Was it thinking? Surely not. Forget about it you moronic twit, Ray said to himself. You know it can't do that.

  Or could it?

  Ray kept away from it. Kept checking on his HUD that its headset was still attached. God knows what would happen if it wasn't. He couldn't bear the thought.

  Now what was he to do? Ray had to get the fuck out of there that's what.

  The volunteer moved again. Ray startled and groaned. It was involuntary. Its finger stabbed at the alarm and a sound pierced the silence. Ray was torn. His hand crawled to the virtual termination button. He wondered what it would take for him to press it. One more movement? Would he wait until the volunteer was lunging at his throat? Hesitation was death but he couldn't do it.

  Another movement. Ray's trigger finger twitched. He felt a tremor. He could hear short gasps of breath and realised they were his. He zoomed into the volunteer's finger to study it. If it was within his sights, then maybe he could rebound if the movement changed; if it became more threatening.

  The volunteer was still. Without warning the projection on Ray's HUD blurred. The buttons and text became jagged. The volunteer's red flashing aura ceased. The emergency mode was turned off.

  Ray dropped to his knees, his eyes glued to the volunteer.

  ###

  Mike Beeson needed to talk to his difficult employee, Doug Cardozo. He didn't want to. He had to. It was an absolute. That fuckwit was costing him a fortune in broken volunteers. His behaviour had escalated.

  "How you start is how you finish," Mike remembered his first boss saying. It sure as hell was too late for that. Mike started a pushover with Doug - just Doug. The man was seriously scary. He was trying to avoid it ending at that. Despite the wisdom of his former boss' advice, he thought he could... must... do something about it.

  He sat fidgeting behind a worn wooden desk that looked out of place next to a console covered in bright buttons and bulbs. He dug his fingers into a pile of paper clips, torturing each one that he managed to separate from its companions. He had sent for Doug.

  That was before that idiot Ray had called. Now Ray was on his way to download the memory in his HUD. Bad timing. But he'd called Doug and now he had to go through with it.

  Ray would have to wait.

  Oh hell. Now the whole schedule would be thrown off, Mike simmered. Bloody Ray. He was finished if there was nothing wrong with that HUD; even if he had tipped Mike off about Doug's latest abuse of the volunteers.

  Focus, Mike told himself. Prepare.

  He recalled a few instances in which he had caught Doug kicking, punching, pushing or restraining volunteers.

  "What are you doing Doug?" Mike had asked.

  Doug had grinned. "My job," he had said.

  "I'm worried about that volunteer, okay," Mike said.

  "There's something wrong with it," Doug said. "I was testing it. And you know what can happen if there's a problem with a volunteer. Chaos, my friend."

  Mike suspected that Doug wanted to cause chaos. Doug had hinted at it on another occasion at last year's Christmas party. The one that Mike held every year for his employees.

  Doug's speech had been slurred because he had swallowed a lot of red wine. "You know what this reminds me of?" Doug had asked rudely dipping his finger in the glass and letting the wine drip from his finger like droplets of crimson blood. His was too close, invading Mike's personal space. He reeked of alcohol. Before Mike could respond Doug said, "The war." Only Doug could call it that. No one else dared to.

  "The war was great," Doug said with a glint in his bulging blue eye. "I killed all I could," he said. "Volunteers and their bait." He slid his tongue over his finger to soak up the wine. It was grotesque. His stinky breath escaped. Mike recoiled.

  "You know my friend, we could bring the war back, you and me." He saluted with his three quarter empty glass. "I've tried," he winked. "You know. Roughing them up. Maybe damage a headset." He smirked.

  Mike had assumed Doug was joking. Now he wasn't sure.

  Picturing Doug now, he shivered. He tried to take in a deep breath but puffed it out, choking.

  He rehearsed what he intended to say. "Doug, we've worked together for a while now," he said out loud. He shook his head. That wasn't right. I'm the boss, he thought. Why start being conciliatory? Doug was mishandling the volunteers. Mike had a right to be angry about it. It had to stop. It's my company's money, he said to himself.

  "Doug, I can't have you damaging the volunteers, okay?" That's better. Stamp your authority. He's your employee.

  Wait. Shouldn't he be more direct? He should tell his employee what he requires. "Now Doug," he said to the empty sound proof control room, "I need you to handle the volunteers carefully."

  No. It wasn't about handling them "carefully". Doug was vandalising them. Playing with them. Fuck, they're not toys. Tell him. Fucking tell him what you expect.

  "Stop damaging my volunteers," Mike shouted, getting to his feet. "I need you to stop-"

  The door opened. He fell to his seat. He saw Doug's snarling face. It made his head spin. He felt the thumping of his heart in his chest.

  "Hello Mike," Doug said. A glimmer of light reflected off his piercing blue eyes. It's like he's looking at prey, Mike thought.

  "You can take your break," Mike said to the operator who had accompanied Doug into the room. The operator nodded and left, closing the door behind him.

  Mike's face flushed behind his tidy trimmed silver beard. Large veins unconcealed under thinning skin on his forehead pulsed. Distracted by the heat and pressure in his head, Mike forgot what he was going to say. That bloody stare. He can see right through me, Mike realised.

  "Thanks for seeing me Doug," Mike blurted. Hell, why was he thanking Doug? Doug remained stone faced.

  "Um. I've heard..." Mike bumbled. "I mean, I understand you've been a bit rough with the volunteers... lately. Okay?" A bit rough? Idiot! You're so timid you had to underplay it again, Mike castigated himself.

  "From whom?" Doug asked.

  "Well, I can't say," Mike said. It was automatic. A defensive statement. It frustrated him.

  Doug scowled. His hands clenched slowly into fists. His face turned blood red. His breathing became heavy.

  "It doesn't matter," Mike said. His voice wavered. His eyes bulged in panic. He wanted to end this as soon as possible.

  Doug drifted to Mike's desk. "Look," Mike said, "we all need to be mindful about how to handle the volunteers, okay. They're expensive equipment. Going forward, I'd like you to keep that in mind."

  "I have done nothing to them," Doug said. He was standing at the foot of Mike's desk.
>
  "I-"

  "I have done nothing, my friend," Doug said hunching over fists he had planted on Mike's desk. "The accusations are false."

  "I'm just telling you what I've heard," Mike said. He lowered his eyes. "And I've seen you do it before."

  "Well," Doug said leaning closer to Mike, "If you don't tell me who you've heard this from, there's nothing more to say." After a pause he said, "Isn't that right?"

  "Well, I mean... I have to, um, take these complaints seriously, okay," Mike stuttered.

  Doug scowled. "You do that," he said. "And when you're ready to tell me who it is, we can talk about it some more."

  Silence.

  Doug postured up and struck the desk with a fist. A single nod with a clenched jaw. Hands rested on his hips not taking his unblinking eyes off Mike.

  Mike's face drooped. "Okay," he said.

  An alarm sounded. Mike jumped to the console. "The hoist," he said. "Stuck." After a pause he said, "That idiot."

  ###

  Before Ray had time to digest that, without explanation, the emergency volunteer termination mode had been disarmed, a voice crackled in the radio attached to his belt.

  "I heard the alarm, okay. What now, Ray? What's going on in that hoist?" Mike's voice.

  Ray fumbled for the radio clamped to the utility belt squeezing against his waist.

  "God, Ray. Answer me!"

  Ray juggled and dropped the radio. His heart jumped.

  No, he thought, bending down. Please be okay. Please don't be broken. Broken HUD; now radio? Unpredictable volunteer? What else could go wrong?

  The volunteer stepped forward, its skeletal arm reaching for the radio. Ray's adrenaline spiked, and he snatched the radio from the floor.

  "Mike," Ray said, unable to hide the breathlessness in his voice. "The hoist is stuck." He heard Mike whisper a curse.

  "You're causing so much trouble today Ray. Why? And what did you sound the alarm for? You know the procedure, okay," Mike said.

  "But-"