Freedom's End

by Christian Kallias

  Feck plan A! I don’t care if the whole world heard that in fact. But I resign myself to telling Tanya.

  Captain Eleanor Trevisano.

  Accessing . . . says Tanya coldly.

  I know she is jealous. I’m not an idiot. Tanya is no mere machine. She has feelings, and from our fight earlier, I can tell these are deep-rooted feelings. Unless it’s my ego talking.

  Yeah, that’s more like it, Cole. Get a grip on yourself, will you? My entire world doesn’t revolve around you.

  That hurts a little, but I have to concede it’s a well-deserved comment.

  Impressive resumé this Captain Trevisano. Until she was discharged that is.

  You don’t have to tell me; she saved my ass more than once.

  Then do you mind if I ask why she’s the one owing you a favor?

  Let’s just say I’ve saved hers more times and leave it at that, shall we?

  How likely is she to accept being an intricate part of this mission?

  Likely to very likely.

  You know I need a more precise variable than that, Cole. How likely?

  I swallow hard while I try to imagine how this conversation will go. That’s when the holo-simulation flashes red. We have ninety seconds left before the mission scenario is selected and locked into Tanya’s matrix.

  Feck! Seventy-five percent chance, I say with as much conviction as I can muster.

  I wonder, am I trying to convince her of that figure or myself?

  Never play poker, Cole, you’re a terrible liar. Hasn’t anyone told you that? Nevertheless, crunching numbers. Stand by . . .

  The next five seconds feel like an eternity. Tanya’s right. I lied. I’d be lucky if Eleanor doesn’t blow my head off the moment she sees me. We hadn’t exactly parted on the best of terms. But she still owes me, and she knows it.

  I need to cash in on that so we need to try. I’m hoping Tanya’s CPU is too occupied to hear that thought or maybe she agrees with me; or, at the very least, that she’s willing to take a leap of faith.

  I have faith in you, but let it be known that I object to this course of action, and that’s between you and me. I have redacted the reason for her dishonorable discharge from her file though. Only way to make this work.

  Thank you, Tanya.

  That dishonorable discharge is my fault, and if she tries to redecorate my head with a hole in the middle of my forehead, that would be the reason. I hold my breath while the scores rise progressively with the new mission parameters injected into the scenario. The odds stop at an even seventy percent.

  I exhale deeply in relief.

  “Lock that scenario in, Tanya.”

  I should mention that her chances of her surviving this mission are less than twenty percent.

  That’s the kind of information I don’t need to know, even though I have no doubt it is a strong possibility. Am I really willing to risk an old friend’s life to achieve this mission? I guess there’s no way around it now.

  “Is the scenario locked-in?”

  “It is,” she continues in private mode. For better or for worse.

  And just in time too. The holo-simulation terminates, the lights come back to life in the room as the catwalk re-extends itself. A vocal alert informs us it’s time to leave the pre-mission tactical room.

  Now, let’s hope I made the right decision. One way or another, we’re about to find out; within the next six hundred and thirty-nine minutes, to be precise.

  Six

  Mission completion time: T minus 637 minutes

  We reach the outer doors of the room, and a robotic arm extends from the wall. I know the drill. This is the authentication tattoo I must present on the other side of my temporal jump. This is to ensure I’m traveling according to official orders, not on a mission of my own.

  Only the AI in this room can deliver authenticated tattoos readable by people from the past, and it’s a smart and elegant failsafe to prevent unauthorized time jumps from ever being made.

  I used to think it was a lack of trust in the agent, but, then again, I’m not exactly employee of the month lately. I walk a fine line between following protocol and doing what I feel must be done, like today.

  I’m thinking there has to be a way to trick the system. This tattoo is obviously known beforehand in some memory banks. It’s one hell of a secure system with multiple encryptions. Still, like every system designed by humans, it must have a flaw. I don’t need to find it, really. I don’t intend ever to time travel for my own devices.

  Not with the seven hundred and seventeen minutes cap on time travel anyway. Take that out of the equation and my views on the subject may change.

  Yeah, I’m thinking of you Vassiliki.

  But, I get it that the company can’t take any chances. The mind is a fragile thing, and a loose time traveler could cause irreparable damage not only to the timeline but also to the future of humanity.

  Burning the glowing purple bar code tattoo on my skin takes a few seconds, and when it’s done, the door opens. I step outside the holo-simulation room and take a left. From here, I’m only a few seconds away from the time chamber.

  “Nervous?” Tanya asks.

  “More than the first time I had sex.”

  “At least you got to do that. I know it’s a touchy subject right now for you, but all things considered, you experienced that pleasure in the past, many times.”

  Not nearly enough if anybody asks me, but no one does.

  Yeah, and I wish I could tell you I don’t miss it, but I’d be lying through my teeth. Of everything I had to give up for this job, that is what hurts the most. Even though I can technically have sex, it’s the enjoying part I can never feel again. Sometimes I feel like using time in a mission to visit a black market augment doctor and fix that. But how long would it take until the company discovered I’d done that? Wishful thinking, I know, but it’s a thought I get lately almost every time before I jump.

  Perhaps we should do it, Cole. I think it was a mistake removing that part of your humanity. I don’t see why it would affect your performance.

  That’s sweet of you to say, Tanya, but it’s not worth the risk, and we definitely don’t have time to do that during this particular mission. I need to be one hundred percent focused on the task at hand. I’m afraid reactivating my junk will have to wait for another time.

  And, yet, perhaps it would relax you more than you know, give you something to fight for and make sure you come back alive for it.

  Could she have a point? It’s all theoretical, and we can’t lose precious time to discuss it right now or try anything to that end during this mission. Still, I wonder.

  We enter the time room. I never like what comes next. For some reason, the bozos who built that wonder of a machine didn’t manage to allow time traveling with clothes on. I think of old classic SciFi movies and the joke is not lost on me. Oh well, at least Tanya can jump with me.

  I’m removing my clothes when I catch a glimpse of a new girl operating a part of the machine. She blushes at the sight of me naked. I wink in her direction, and she turns red before looking away.

  Smooth, Cole, very smooth.

  Stop being so damn jealous. You know I only have eyes for you, dear.

  Yeah, that’s why I get deactivated a minimum of three times a week so you can bring holograms into your bed.

  Touché. But I tell you what? Get a body and you can replace them.

  There is an awkward silence. It doesn’t last long.

  I might take you up on that. One day.

  I smile. That wouldn’t be the worst of things now, would it?

  Tell you what, let’s get—fixed and we could try that. I think I would enjoy it very much, she says with a slight trembling of her synthetic vocal cords.

  You and me both.

  I stand atop the Time Convection Field Generator. The hum of the machine comes to life, and I feel a slight tingle on the bottoms of my feet. A tad more and it would tickle.

  A column of c
ylindrical blue light rises from below and engulfs me. There are circles of brighter energy flashes flying upward at a higher frequency. They pass in front of my eyes with a distinctive whooshing sound. It takes about twenty seconds until they are so fast I can barely see them. They render the cylindrical energy opaque enough that I can no longer see the people operating the machine.

  I hear the countdown over the speakers.

  “Time jump in five . . . four . . . three . . . two . . . one . . . Engaging time jump.”

  What happens next is the most bizarre sensation. I feel like my body is being demolecularized, and for a split second that feels like an eternity, I exist only as energy or thought. I couldn’t tell which.

  It’s both exhilarating and scary as shit. For a fraction of a second, I also get a feeling like I’m one with the universe. It’s weird and strange no matter how many times I’ve experienced this before.

  I both love and fear it. It’s over before I can make sense of what it is, but, for just a millisecond, I feel like I know everything about myself, my life, my experiences, even my death. It’s too short for my brain to make any sense of, and soon the time jump is completed.

  When I open my eyes, not much seems to have changed. The cylindrical light around me does its thing in reverse, and soon I am standing naked in the room again. I can tell it’s not all the same crew looking at me. Different shifts I presume. I’ve jumped back nearly twelve hours into the past.

  As is the protocol, a member of the team comes and scans my jump tattoo, while three armed men have their weapons drawn on me.

  “Code identified.”

  The marines lower their weapons. What a job it must be, take aim at me and never get to fire. I sometimes wonder why I bother with such thoughts.

  “General Richardson will be here shortly to review your mission brief,” the man says.

  I don’t have time for this, not with this mission, not today.

  “This is a code Ultra Red. My AI augment will debrief him remotely, but we need to get going right away,” I say as I walk toward the nearest locker that contains some clothes for me.

  It’s not what I was wearing when I came in, but it’s only temporary, so I don’t walk naked while I get to the armory for a quick load on supplies.

  Then I will head out to my safe house in town where I will pick a more precise set of tools. If I need something particular that I don’t have there, I need to get it from here, like a second portable deflector shield.

  Eleanor will need one as well, and I don’t have a spare in the safe house. Not one that can link with Tanya’s systems, anyway.

  When I turn back, I can see the team member is still unsure of what to make of my last statement. He’s in my way.

  “I repeat: code Ultra Red. This is not a drill, son,” I say with as much calm as I can but also with authority. “Do you understand?”

  “I—I have never been part of a code Ultra Red.”

  “You’ll get used to it. Now, son, move the feck out of my way.”

  I can see the fear in his eyes. Can’t blame him though. Who wouldn’t be scared? Ultra Red is for the worst possible type of attack we can imagine. It doesn’t take a genius to visualize the consequences of a nuke or biological attack.

  Perhaps this man has family in the city. Working at Rewind requires the utmost security level but also the utmost discretion. Still, our humanity, it can be our strength but also our biggest weakness in times like these.

  I sense a ninety-two percent chance that this man will call his family to warn them about the impending attack, says Tanya in private mode. We can’t leave this facility until this has been taken care of. A single phone call outside, a rumor even, could start a panic and change too many variables and render our mission strategy null and void. Our mission could be over before it started, Cole.

  I can’t believe we have to deal with things like these on a day like today. I look at the man’s name-tag.

  “John, would you please accompany me?” I say as I walk toward the door.

  “What—why? Did I do something wrong?”

  I stop and turn around to face him.

  “No, John, but I need your help with something.”

  His facial muscles relax a little. He follows me to the hallway and walks silently a few steps behind me.

  “Sir, I—I really want to tell you how much of an honor it is to work on this project.”

  Yeah, yeah . . . but you clearly have forgotten the basic protocol that comes with your job, now haven’t you?

  “It’s a tough job we do, John. Do you have a family?” I ask, trying to sound as casual as possible.

  “A wife and a daughter who’s just turned eight, yesterday.”

  “What’s your daughter’s name?”

  Before he can answer, I spring into action. I grab him and lock his head with my left arm, strangling him.

  “Cole? Go easy on him,” Tanya pleads.

  What is she worried about? I’m not gonna kill that poor sod. Maybe someone will, but not me.

  I can feel John trying to release himself, but my augmented arms make that impossible. He hits my arm a few times with his fists, but soon enough he passes out from the lack of oxygen. I throw him on my shoulder and pick up my pace toward the brig.

  The guard jumps out of his chair when I enter the room and salutes me. I salute back.

  “What happened?” he inquires.

  “This man’s been deemed a security risk.”

  I gently drop John’s unconscious body in the nearest cell.

  “Would you mind?” I say as I point with my head toward the cell.

  The guard enters a command on a nearby console and a force field springs to life.

  “Your orders are not to let this man out of the cell for at least twelve hours. This is a priority one order, do you understand?”

  The guard nods.

  “Sedate him if you have to, but under no circumstances is he to be allowed to talk with anybody until after he is released. If in doubt, report to General Richardson.”

  “Understood, Agent,” he answers.

  I have no doubt it’s the end of John’s career at Rewind. Hopefully, that’s the full extent of his punishment. After all, there was still a slight chance he would have kept his mouth shut.

  That’s three minutes wasted we didn’t have to spare. I leave the brig and run to the armory where I rush to jump into mission clothing and equip myself with full body armor.

  I grab a couple of blasters and a rifle and a few throwing knives and smart shuriken that I attach to the magnetic strips running around my right thigh. I’ll load more later. I grab that extra personal shield and a couple of grenades. I also take two portable power packs and magnetically attach them to my belt.

  “Expecting resistance between here and our safe house?” Tanya asks.

  “Better safe than sorry; this is going to be a long day.”

  “Technically, only less than half a day, but I get what you mean.”

  Less than twelve hours to save hundreds of thousands of lives; that’s a long day in my book, no matter how you slice it, not to mention that I have been up for more than twelve hours already. Why can’t I ever get a deployment call at seven in the morning when I’m all rested?

  “Let’s get out of here,” I say, not trying to hide my annoyance. “We’ve lost enough time as it is.”

  Seven

  Mission completion time: T minus 628 minutes

  On our way to the safe house, I get lost in thought as the cityscape of New Geneva unfolds in front of me from the window of the self-driving ship taking us to our location. The view from that vantage point is mesmerizing. Far in the distance, I imagine Lac Léman.

  New Geneva was rebuilt a fair bit away from the now mostly dead lake. We’re a few miles from the shore, quite a difference with the old, tall buildings only a road’s width away from the lake as it once was. I’ve seen holo-vids and documentaries about it in my downtime; it used to be such a lovely place. T
he holographic water-jet in the middle of town emulates one of the old city’s monuments.

  It used to be the highest water-jet in the world back in the twenty-first century, and thousands of tourists came every year to gaze upon its beauty. That was another world back then; it’s all but gone now, and the holographic water-jet is just another reminder of that time.

  “Why didn’t we take the underground turbo tube?” Tanya asks.

  “Well, I felt like looking at the city and gathering my thoughts, something I can’t do when I’m in an underground speed tunnel.”

  “I thought time was of the essence.”

  “It is, but this doesn’t take that much more time.”

  “By my estimate, we will lose three point two minutes this way.”

  That’s a very AI thing to say. She is right, of course. This way is slightly longer. But I need to gather my thoughts and try to find an appropriate way to convince Eleanor to come with us on this mission.

  Truth be told, even if she refuses, we’ll get the job done without her. The important thing is to lock-in a battle plan that provides the maximum chance of getting rid of Ahmed. Since that plan of action is fundamentally different from the one in my nightmare, at least it won’t feel like déjà vu all day.

  I have no doubt that we stand a much better chance of success with her help.

  “I need that little bit of extra time to think,” I answer moments later.

  Soon we arrive at our destination, and the ship drops me on the top of the building where our safe house is located. It’s deep underground, so we take the turbo elevator down to the safe house entrance.

  A full body scan in the form of a sweeping green laser does its job, starting from my feet and working its way up to the top of my head in less than a second. The laser focuses on my retina next for a brief instant and the doors split open from the middle with a familiar whoosh.

  As I step into the main room, lights turn on automatically. On the surface, this looks like a big studio apartment with minimalistic furniture. A sofa and a coffee table are facing the holo-screen that’s embedded in the wall. With the push of a single mental thought of a wirelessly transmitted password, the room changes.