Renee pulled me toward a stairwell. Her fingers slid easily between mine, and I half-listened to her as we climbed up two flights of steps.
“For a long time we thought the next era of computing was artificial intelligence,” she said.
She reached the top of the steps and pulled open a door marked Control Room. The lights came on automatically, revealing a room of sleek control panels.
“The subjects you brought us were outliers, genius of a single mental task. We thought if we could mimic their neural patterns we could develop an AI that would have the capability of a human being, but the capacity of a computer. Think about it, Matt—the ability to analyze patterns in hundreds of thousands of communications in the blink of an eye, classify as many star clusters as we can find in an instant, see the human genome in a whole new light . . .”
The room was tiered, and we climbed upward as she talked. As she spoke, her eyes grew bright and she clutched my hand even tighter. She reached the top level of the room, which held a single curved console. She sat in the padded chair.
“Then we realized we were coming at the problem backwards. We changed the question: if we can’t make a computer more like a human, can we make a human brain more like a computer?” She faced forward and swept her hands out before her in a wide arc.
“Behold,” she whispered in a tone of reverence. “The greatest supercomputer in the history of mankind.”
She touched a button and the lighted console showed up as a bright rectangle in Renee’s beautiful hazel eyes.“With Cash here, the project is almost complete. Just one more step, the most important step. The step that ties everyone together.”
“What step is that, Renee?” My throat was dry.
She gave my arm a playful slap. “You, silly. You unify the collection. Look, they’re waiting for you.” She nodded toward the front of the room.
I turned to face the windows. The pods were arranged like seats in an auditorium, each one a gleaming base of stainless steel covered by a dome of clear plastic. The naked bodies inside were festooned with wires and tubes, and their shaved heads were covered by clear plastic, like a swimmer’s cap, glowing a ghostly green.
Their eyes were open. Every single one of them was looking up at me.
Two pods sat empty, the plastic domes flipped up. One was outfitted to handle a scrawny boy of twelve and the other labeled “Rogers.”
I turned away from the accusing eyes of the people I had collected. Renee’s smile broadened, and my eyes fell to the badge hanging from the breast pocket of her lab coat. The piece of plastic, always so carefully tucked away, said “Renee” in large bold letters.
Just under that, in smaller font, it read “Oldman.”
A Word from David Bruns
In my working life, I’ve been an officer on a nuclear-powered submarine, a corporate lackey, and a science fiction writer. I am the creator of the sci-fi/fantasy series, The Dream Guild Chronicles, and the bestselling military sci-fi novel INVINCIBLE, based on Nick Webb’s Legacy Fleet series. My short fiction has appeared in such speculative fiction anthologies as The Future Chronicles and Beyond the Stars as well as sci-fi magazines like Compelling Science Fiction. In my spare time, I co-write contemporary military thrillers with a retired naval intelligence officer. Find out more at www.davidbruns.com.
RARE
BY TOM REYNOLDS
RARE
BY TOM REYNOLDS
I wanted you to understand from the beginning that my goal in all of this was not for Rare to die. I won’t say that the thought hadn’t come to my mind many times, but that wasn’t what I was after. What I was after was so much less complicated than all of that.
The police, as could be expected, were no help in this regard. Not that I ever asked them how they would feel about me going after Rare on my own. Soon after the telephone call that told me my husband was gone, I realized that if I was going to seek revenge for his death it would mean diverting attention away from myself. A revenge where I wound up in a cage myself, in the end, was no kind of revenge at all. It wasn’t what my husband would have wanted, and it sure as hell wasn’t what I wanted. Rare had already taken so much away from me, he wasn’t about to take my freedom too.
In the beginning, all I could think about was speed. I was consumed with the notion that the swifter my revenge was, the more satisfying it would feel. It’s for this reason I initially sought a metahuman to help me in my goals.
They weren’t as easy to find back in those days. Lots of people were afraid of them, mostly because the ones with ill intents found themselves on the world news every night. It wouldn’t be until later that the majority of the supposedly ‘good’ metahumans of the world showed themselves in the cold light of day.
I kept my eyes and ears open though, and eventually, I found one that I thought would be willing to take up my cause. There was little special about him, other than his being a metahuman and having proven that he was willing to kill. He had yet to give himself a moniker, and the news media found him too uninteresting to foist one on him. But he had killed.
It had happened during a street fair. A small-minded new meta had hit it up hoping to win himself a few easy prizes ‘testing his strength’ at one of those carnival games with the big mallets. What he didn’t realize was that like everything else at this rinky-dink carnival, the game had been rigged. An argument broke out between the undercover metahuman and the man running the booth. Pushing quickly escalated into fists, which meant the fight had turned deadly for the carny. He was just about to meet his maker when another metahuman appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, blocking the fatal punch before it could land on the carnival worker’s weak chin.
The new metahuman was wearing a crudely thrown together mask that made him look more like a cowboy than a superhero. When the meta looking to win a six-foot-tall stuffed teddy bear refused to stand down, he found himself on the receiving end of a deadly blow from the newly arrived hero.
The meta in the white mask disappeared into the crowd in a blur of speed. The few security cameras that were covering the street barely even caught the deadly exchange, let alone the metahuman’s escape. No one had seen this new metahuman since, and it looked like he’d returned back underground, possibly for good.
But I saw something that no one else had noticed. Something that immediately stood out to me from my waitressing days in college. The makeshift mask wasn’t made from a handkerchief, as many had speculated online. It was much too thick for that. I could tell by the way it moved, or rather didn’t move. It was too stiff. The result of too much starch used when washing it. And the white of it, even on the grainy black and white security footage, seemed too bright to be a handkerchief. It practically popped off the screen.
It was plain as day to me that the mask was in actuality a restaurant napkin. At first, I thought this might have meant that the metahuman had been eating nearby when the fight broke out, but then I noticed his shoes. Thick, black and clunky, they were the type of sneaker someone wears when they’re going to be on their feet all day. The type of sneaker a waiter would wear, for example.
I waited until noon, when all of the restaurants would be open for lunch, then I started my search. I was in and out of most places quickly. Catching sight of a red napkin resting on a table meant I had the wrong place and I didn’t waste time asking questions of the staff.
The fifth restaurant was where I finally found white napkins. I told the hostess I needed a table for one and she found me a seat in an out of the way booth on the other side of the empty restaurant. I didn’t even notice the type of food they served before walking in. Once seated, I unfurled the napkin in front of me and brought it up to my mouth, pretending to wipe it. Really I was testing to see if it was large enough to wrap around my head easily in a pinch.
It was.
“Welcome, my name is Robert and I’ll be your server this afternoon. Can I get you started with something to drink?”
The waiter had appeared out of nowher
e and there wasn’t enough time to discretely hide what I was doing, but that turned out to be a stroke of luck. Robert wasn’t very good at hiding his expressions and his surprise at what I was doing with the cloth immediately confirmed for me that he was who I was looking for.
“I think I’ll be fine with just water, Robert. Can I ask you: were you working here yesterday?”
“Umm, I’ll be right back with that water for you.”
The avoidance of the innocent question confirmed everything that I needed to know about Robert. When he returned with my glass of tap water he nervously glanced around the empty restaurant. Except for the hostess stationed near the front door, we were the only two in the dining area.
“Here you go,” he said with forced cheer. He set the glass down and turned with the intention of quickly retreating back into the safety of the kitchen.
“The reason why I ask, Robert,” I said as though the conversation hadn’t been interrupted by his departure, “is because there was someone who looked very much like you at the street fair the other day.”
Robert laughed nervously.
“I wish I had time for something like that. I was stuck here working all day, unfortunately.”
“Sit down, Robert.”
I was beginning to lose patience with him. I needed him for his speed and strength, not his ability to unconvincingly tell a lie.
“I really should—“
“The restaurant is empty, and I’m not asking.”
Robert quickly glanced over his shoulder before sliding into the booth across from me.
“I’m not looking for any trouble, okay. I don’t want to be like one of the others, the ones out there flying around wearing tights and everything. I just want to live my life and be left alone.”
“I can sympathize with that, Robert. I really can. That was all I wanted before my husband was murdered.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“That’s good, because there’s something you can do to help me make it right.”
Robert started to slide back out of the booth.
“Sit. Down.”
He did as he was told, but was now beginning to look visibly nervous. He was scared of me, which wasn’t necessarily a bad thing in this situation.
“I’m not looking for a hero, and I’m not looking for a freebie, okay? I have a very particular need and very little time. What I do have, and can offer to you, is money. You like money, don’t you Robert?”
He didn’t respond, so I continued.
“The metahuman who took my husband’s life is named Rare.”
“Rare? The magnet guy? Isn’t he supposed to be a hero or something?” Robert asked.
“Or something,” I replied, “he wasn’t acting very heroically when he dropped the roof of a bank building on my husband’s head.”
“Why did he do that?”
“It was an accident, but one that he hasn’t apologized for yet. That’s where you come in.”
“Look, I’m not sure what kind of revenge scheme you’re trying to cook up here, but like I said, I’m just not the guy you’re looking for.”
“I’m not looking for revenge. I know that nothing will bring my husband back. I understand that this is the kind of reality we live in now, and nothing I can do will change that. Nothing I can do will prevent other needless deaths at the hands of metahumans. Revenge is impossible, all I want is an apology.”
“What does that mean?”
“Rare was responsible for the death of my husband. I want to hear him admit to that and express remorse. That’s all. It’s a simple action that will help me find closure.”
“How would I be able to make him do something like that?”
“You can’t. That’s not what I’m asking you to do. I’m just asking you to bring me to him.”
“What? How would I know where he is? Just because I’m a…” he lowered his voice, “metahuman or whatever, doesn’t mean we all know where each other live.”
I could tell that I almost had him on the hook. Now it was important not to press too hard, play up the notion that this would be easy for him.
“You don’t know where he is, neither do I or anyone else. But he will pop up again, that I’m sure of. And when he does, I need to be there. I need to confront him. That’s where I need your help. Not to find him, or to fight him, I just need you to bring me to him.”
“I’m not quite sure I understand. Like I said already, I have no idea where he is.”
I had to remind myself to not let my frustration through. He’s not who I was angry at. That person was Rare. Right now, Robert is displaying the exact qualities that I sought him out for in the first place. Namely, being easy to coerce and not all that bright.
“You won’t have to know where he is, Robert. The media will take care of that. He’s a hero, after all, like you said. They’ll get a live truck out to wherever he shows up next in no time. When they do, I just need you to use your abilities to get me there quickly, before he’s able to disappear back into the wind. For this, you’ll be paid handsomely.”
Robert quickly glanced back at the hostess station to make sure that the restaurant was still empty and that no one had noticed his taking a seat across the table from a customer. He leaned in slightly.
“How much are we talking here?”
Now I’ve got him.
“Name your price.”
Robert was taken aback by this and took a moment to consider. Even still he answered too quickly, not even taking a moment to fully mull over his prospective payday.
“Five thousand dollars,” he blurted out.
I had to keep my own eagerness in check to prevent myself from making the same negotiating mistake that Robert just had. I glanced off into the distance, feigning contemplation, before returning my gaze to Robert.
“Fine. You’ve got a deal. Half now, half when it’s all over.”
My purse was on my lap, where I quickly counted twenty-five one hundred dollar bills out of a large wad of cash that I held carefully to prevent Robert from seeing. No need to let him know that I was prepared to offer him a much bigger payday.
I placed the bills inside a small envelope and slid it across the table into Robert’s waiting hands. He quickly stuffed the envelope into his pocket, struggling to make it fit. His nervousness was beginning to give way to the excitement that comes with a pocketful of cash. I closed my bag and gathered my jacket. No need to stay here any longer than necessary. It’d only increase the chances of someone seeing the two of us together. Even a place this shabby can’t be empty all day.
• • •
The next few days were nerve-wracking for me. I had to keep reminding myself to have patience. Rare will pop up again, I know it. It’s just a matter of time.
I spent my days checking the police scanners and finding excuses to keep myself near Robert’s restaurant night and day. Even though he could retrieve me quickly when the time comes, I felt more confident in getting to Rare in time if I was near.
And then, one day, it finally happened. A bank robbery on the other side of the city. Far, but still easily within running distance for Robert. I was sitting in a coffee shop near his restaurant when I heard the news. I didn’t even bother to call his phone, even though that would’ve been faster. Instead, I sprinted toward the restaurant. I hoped that when I entered, Robert knew what was happening already and would be ready to go, but I didn’t count on it.
When I burst through the front doors of the restaurant, it was obvious that Robert was completely oblivious. The money spent on a small police scanner that he could keep with him throughout the day had been a waste. He was on his way to drop off a tray of ice waters when he saw me. His eyes nearly bulged out of his head when he saw the expression on my face.
He tried to gesture for me to give him a second to finish what he was in the middle of, but I ignored it. Instead, I grabbed him by the black button-down and pulled him toward the restaurant’s front door without a word
on my end. The glasses of water shattered onto the floor in the middle of the restaurant. All eyes were on us, but my eyes were firmly on the door.
Outside, on the sidewalk, Robert tried to protest, upset that I’d caused such a scene.
I didn’t care.
I jumped onto his back and threw my arms around his neck.
“First National. 48th and Main. Go!” I shouted into his ear.
The logistics of how he was meant to carry me to the bank at supersonic speed weren’t discussed, but from my research, this seemed like the only way to pull it off on such short notice. I’d considered a harness or strap of some kind, but that would have just added more complexity that I didn’t have time for.
The metabands appeared around Robert’s wrists with a thought, and he brought them together to activate. An instant later, we were off running. The world melted into a dull blur. Buildings blended together to form a continuous gray tunnel. We were going too fast for me to know where we were, or if we were even heading in the right direction. I had to rely completely on Robert. It was the only part of my plan that I had to cede control of, if only temporarily.
It was a distance of seven miles, but it was mostly a straight line heading due east. I knew we were facing east when I jumped on Robert’s back, so I can only hope that we were still going in the right direction.
Suddenly, the world snapped back into focus and I felt the strong urge to vomit. We stopped.
I released my grip from around Robert’s neck and fought the disorientation to take in my surroundings. We were indoors, having apparently pushed through a door. Considering the speed we were just traveling at, I doubted the door still existed in one piece. The ceilings were low, and the walls blank and sterile.
“Is this the right place?” Robert asked me.
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