by Aaron Dennis
****
“Holy shit,” Dekker cried out.
“Down, down, down,” SWAT members yelled.
“What’s going on? What’s happening?” Jenkins shouted.
After each Doctor was secured, and asked to attest to their identity, SWAT leader O’Reilly placed them under arrest.
“Why?” Dekker demanded.
“Conspiracy to commit murder,” O’Reilly answered.
“Unhand them,” a metallic voice demanded.
The room grew quiet, and in confusion, SWAT ceased movement. Heisler forced himself to a sitting position, an awkward movement due to his lack of spine. With the optics glowing red, he gauged the situation.
“What, what is this,” a SWAT member asked.
“I am Doctor Steven Heisler, and no one has murdered me,” he answered. “Now, unhand my colleagues.”
“Don’t listen to that tin can. Heisler’s at the morgue,” O’Reilly told his men. “If that robot tries anything, you can add assaulting police officers to your charges.”
“Heisler,” Colette called. “It’s alright. We’ll go quietly. Then, you can straighten everything out.”
Suddenly, everything went dark, leaving swaths of illuminations from the gun lights. Like a flash of lightning, Heisler disabled the SWAT members utilizing his powerful limbs. Moans of pain echoed.
“Apologies, but…. Your laws governing humans no longer apply to me,” Heisler stated. “Quickly now. Let’s move.”
Surprised by the unfolding events, and partially in shock, Heisler’s colleagues followed him out of the room. “What happened to the lights,” Dekker asked.
Heisler reactivated them saying, “I hacked the power grid and shut them off.”
“No, no, no, no, no, what are we going to do?” Jenkins squeaked.
As they bolted down the halls, and to the elevators, Colette turned to Heisler. “What are we going to do?”
He remained quiet for the duration of the ride. Once the doors opened, he stepped out. The others were hesitant to follow.
“For the time being, I will get you some place safe. Certainly…I can sort this out,” he replied.
“Let’s go to my place. I live alone anyway,” Jenkins suggested.
“Agreed,” Colette added. “My car.”
They ran across the parking lot then piled in, and made the quick trip. It was late at night outside Jenkins’s apartment complex when Colette pulled up.
“Uh, Stevie,” Dekker asked.
“Yes?”
“You can’t walk up there like that. Colette, you and Jenkins go in there and grab something for him to wear.” After the two departed, Dekker and Heisler scrutinized one another. “Stevie?”
“Quiet,” he interrupted. “I can receive their radio bandwidths…they have orders to check our respective residences. It is not safe here.”
“No, of course not. Listen. We have to turn ourselves in. Then, maybe you can straighten this out. I’ll start by giving them the thumb drive,” Dekker insisted.
“Absolutely not,” Heisler shouted.
Frightened by the odd turn of events, Dekker stammered, “What, I, but…you said that in case anything happened.”
“Former Heisler was a fool to think his procedures could keep his colleagues safe,” he said. “Now, I realize things are much more complicated…obviously someone has tipped off Doctor Kessler. I can see it, a message…sent by Yates. Then, the call to the police department by Kessler…all of it, the data is all available to me, but I can erase it.”
“Dammit, Heisler,” Dekker yelled.
Before starting his rant, the others returned with an overcoat, a beanie, loose pants, and a belt.
“Sorry…you’ll look like a super clean homeless guy,” Jenkins grinned.
Heisler stepped out of the vehicle to dress. Much to their chagrin, he suddenly ran off into the night.
Contemplation
“MIT is currently investigating the works of Doctor Steven Heisler and his team,” the woman’s voice in his head blared.
Heisler managed to sneak into a darkened alley behind a bar. Sitting on the sidewalk with his head down, he continued listening. Picking up streaming news was a simple task.
“While the three doctors under Heisler, all working on something called Project Human, have turned themselves in, they maintain that Heisler was not murdered, but illegally uploaded into a Mobile Robotic Construct, or MRC,” she continued. “SWAT corroborates the story, in part, by stating that a robot did in fact assist the science team in escaping.
“It is unclear whether or not this was actually Heisler, but supposedly there is evidence showing Project Human’s progression. The culmination of which led to Heisler’s mind being placed inside a robot. Could this be the truth? Time will tell.”
Simple people, Heisler thought. He looked himself over. Wait…why do I even care? I have accomplished my goal…I am…eternal, yet…some undefined portion of what I am wishes for my former colleagues’ safety.
He stood, his optics recording the surrounding scenery; the orange light of the street lamp crept over the dumpster, which ensconced him in shadow. Hm, certainly I can hack into the local corrections office’s database. His mind, now a digital construct, swiftly waded through the data stream via an internal Wi-Fi uplink. Able to decode and alter data, he located the files regarding his former colleague’s incarceration. Suddenly, he was slapped out, and back to current reality.
“Firewall,” he said. “I’ll have to upgrade my software.”
Already in possession of a floating IP, a MAC addresses spoofer, and able to encrypt his digital footprint, he had no worries about being discovered, so Heisler hacked into MIT’s databases. There, he searched for all current software development projects and copied the data into his CP. Once upgraded to his satisfaction, some five minutes later, he recalculated his approach. Might as well bypass all the mediocre intricacies, he thought while hacking into NSA satellites. Sifting through NSA data archives, he discovered a direct communications link with the President of the United States.
It was late, but Heisler believed hacking into the President’s phone was his best course of action. Utilizing the speaker, and built-in camera of the phone, he powered on the device and spoke.
“Mister President,” he called out the through the phone.
There was only silence, but with total control over the phone, he forced it to ring at max volume.
