Cyber Witch

by Eddie R. Hicks

  Marcus wasn’t there. Neither was the house.

  Estrella stepped into her bedroom, the one she had as a kid back in Buenos Aires. The sunlight beaming into the 109th floor suite was the same too; so were the hand-drawn crayon pictures scattered across the floor. A young Estrella looked up at her, smiling.

  “Marcus …” Estrella said, looking for the cop that was supposed to be with her. Geoffrey? Her AI was as silent as was Marcus.

  Voices in Spanish erupted behind her, terrified ones at that, ones she hadn’t heard in ages. It was her parents. The thundering sound of a door getting kicked in came next, Estrella and her younger self leaped up, startled by the crash.

  No, no, no! She panicked internally, drawing her weapon, aiming it forward as she went into the main hall. That too changed. Estrella was back in the past, back in her old home from yesteryear.

  Four members of the Bald Skulls stormed into the small apartment unit, all of them warlocks holding various types of shotguns. None of them heard the pleas of Estrella’s mother, begging for mercy as one member of the gang backed her into the corner. The event played out just like Estrella remembered, her mother getting blasted away first with a single shotgun shot to the chest. She looked away from the spatter of red that re-colored the kitchen counters and plates.

  Estrella was screaming now, shooting her pistol at the gang members, something she wished her younger self watching in horror had the power to do. The bullets didn’t seem to do anything, just traveled through the four warlocks, like they weren’t there. She was incapable of saving her parents then and incapable of doing it now.

  Her father roared at the loss of his wife. He kicked and screamed as two gang members held him still, one on each side. A telepathic gang member silenced her father’s his lips. He was driven to scream internally. The gang forced him to look up at the barrel that would end his life. A cock of the weapon primed it for another blast. A pull of its triggered turned her father’s head into gore, plastering the wall behind him in half a second.

  Young Estrella watched that too, the newly drawn picture she held floated away from her tiny hands. It landed next to her bare feet.

  She looked back at her younger self, and the tears welling up in her eyes, human eyes at that. Estrella missed having those in her head. The weeping noise young Estrella made drew the stares of the four warlocks, their faces brightened with perverse grins.

  She saw her younger self turn and run, just like she remembered. She didn’t get far, the door to her bedroom shut on its own, the blinds around the windows clattered. Her body became still, numb, cold, vision distorted. Young Estrella had no means to fend off the abilities of the four warlocks and telepaths.

  That was the day they took her. The day they laughed all the way to their hideout within the slums of Buenos Aires. Young Estrella became the gang’s newest pleasure and memory sphere girl to be peddled on the black market. Everything the gang did to her as the years passed on was recorded and transferred to memory spheres for underground psytrip experiences. Even the memory spheres of her parents’ ends were sold. Sick motherfuckers loved to experience the thrill and bloodlust gangsters like the Bald Skulls went through. She really hoped the later years that followed didn’t replay next. Estrella spent years trying to forget the number of X-rated and snuff psytrips she was forced to produce.

  She collapsed to her knees, her hands holding onto her head, screaming. This was the past, it was done. Why was she back? Why couldn’t she return to the present? Was it all a dream? Had her life going forward been a fantasy this whole time? She didn’t know anymore.

  Estrella took a deep breath and then held her right hand to her face. She was wearing an NC gauntlet. There’s no way she would have dreamed about having that, same goes for her left synthetic arm and hand. She touched her body, top to bottom, she had womanly curves. There’s no way her younger self would have fantasized about living long enough to become a woman.

  A telepath was fucking with her mind. She continued to ground her thoughts back into reality, while holding back the urge to find the telepath that accessed her memories without her permission and create the illusionary vision of the past.

  I’m not a girl anymore. I got free. I traded my humanity for witchhood. This isn’t real!

  When Estrella returned to the present, she was looking down at the floor. Darkness surrounded her as did the expensive bedroom furniture belonging to the Kounias family. Ahead was her pistol, separated from the grip of her hands. She reached for it and winced. The pistol moved to the side, on its own.

  Someone laughed at her because of that.

  Eighteen

  Ray

  There wasn’t much of a difference between dreams and psytrip sessions. Both had you placed in situations you had no control over, forcing you to watch and experience the events play out. In some cases, you could find yourself in the body of a different individual, lost and wandering around. So, when Ray opened his eyes and saw himself walking through the overcrowded streets of Munich, he had to ask himself, what was going on? Was this a dream? Or a psytrip session he forgot he paid for?

  His body felt lighter than he last remembered, and his hair was long, curly if he were to guess. He’d touch it to confirm but had no control of the hand that reached for their phone. They were Arianna’s hands, and the more he thought about it, this was her body. He’d explored every inch of it in the bedroom over the years the two had been together. He was in Arianna’s body, experiencing what she saw in the EU.

  The phone she held had his caller ID, her thumb tapped the ignore button. This wasn’t the Arianna he knew, nor were the thoughts going through her head. She was paranoid, worried if anyone caught sight of her fleeing. Arianna was repeatedly looking behind her, expecting either the police or men from the Federation to be tailing her.

  Arianna mused to herself about making a mistake and that it might catch up. Her avatar was in danger as was the package she had. She needed to get back to the Alliance and fast. Once there, she’ll be protected from the Federation, clear from the EU authorities aggressively searching for all those involved with the attack. The further she got away from the hotel, the less likely anyone would suspect her of any wrongdoing.

  Ray opened his eyes again. His eyes.

  He sat up swiftly, lying on an emergency room bed with vital monitor equipment displaying his current condition. His heartbeats translated into the sounds of beeps. To his left was a wide window peering out into the nighttime New York skyline. The rain from earlier had transformed into white flakes powdering the city. The mixture of the snow and neon glow turned the darkened skies into a majestic magenta. Some of that aura shone into his hospital room, making the white blankets and a hospital gown he wore the same color.

  It took him another minute, after looking away from the window, to remember why he was there. When he last checked, he went to the airport, against Arianna’s request, and then came the attack. It came back to him, though the details of it were fuzzy. He remembered the assault, and two groups of shady men moving to intercept Arianna as she got off her flight. They were IWs, unusually strong ones too. He’d say they were weaponized, but that was impossible and highly illegal worldwide.

  What happened next?

  Ray knew he found Arianna, at least he thought it was her. It looked like her, felt like her, had the same voice as her, but that’s where things stopped. Her personality wasn’t right. It was like the Arianna he just finished dreaming about. He couldn’t remember anything else but looking at his body lying on the bed it was clear he blacked out and was rescued. And if he was recovered Arianna should have been as well. There’s no way she would have escaped without him.

  That’s not your Arianna, man. She would have left your ass there. He shook his head free of that thought.

  It had to have been her. She probably was having a bad day. He would too if he knew IWs were stalking him.

  A doctor dressed in a medical coat entered. He smiled at Ray when their eyes met. Ray
was sitting up and awake. The doctor typed a quick note on the tablet pad he carried. When he was done, he stood next to Ray’s bed, running a small handheld scanner around his head. The device hummed softly, outputting its results on a narrow screen attached to it.

  “I was starting to worry about you,” the doctor said.

  Ray gave him a worried look. “What happened?”

  “Was hoping you’d tell me. Airport security and an RW team pulled you out from that mess.”

  “Just me?”

  “No, there were survivors. The other bodies recovered are in the morgue.”

  “Shit.” He ground his teeth as the scanner was drawn away from his head. “Did you see my girlfriend?”

  The doctor shook his head. “I don’t know who she is.”

  “Her name is—” His body tensed up, thoughts of Arianna not making it clouded his thoughts. He told the trembling in his hands to leave him alone. “Arianna Kounias, uh.”

  Ray went searching for his smart glasses, patting down his frame, finding nothing but wires and tubes stuck to him, all plugged into the medical monitoring equipment. His face cringed when he came up empty-handed.

  “Everything you had is still in your clothes.”

  Ray was left with one option, describing Arianna’s appearance verbally. It was much easier to show a hologram of the individual. But without his phone or glasses, that wasn’t happening. It was weird.

  His head lay back on the soft pillow and looked up at the ceiling sighing. “She has long thin curly hair,” he said, recalling Arianna’s features.

  Ray was thinking about the dream, being stuck in her body, walking through Munich, searching for men following her. It felt like he left the hospital instantly. His brain struggled to make sense of it all—

  “And…?

  The doctor’s voice pulled his head back to the hospital bed. Ray continued. “Uh, brown hair … beautiful blue eyes.”

  The look the doctor’s face wasn’t a promising one. “Sorry, I haven’t seen anyone like that here.”

  “She was with me when I blacked out.”

  “From what they told me you were found alone, passed out with no signs of trauma.”

  Ray faced the doctor, his head still lying on the pillow. “You mean I fainted?”

  The doctor shrugged. Ray wanted to as well. Blacking out because of the trauma he could see happening. Fainting because of stress? That wasn’t him, and he didn’t care what medical scans said.

  “We’re not sure what happened honestly,” the doctor said. “Your brainwave patterns look like you had a run-in with a high-ranked telepath. Other than that, you’re perfectly fine, it’s like you went for a nap.”

  “They were telepaths with the IWs?”

  Another flashback sent his head traveling back to the airport. An Asian man with long black hair tied in a ponytail, telepathic powers, and a nanite infused katana. Ray couldn’t remember what became of him. He was there, and then gone like he performed a magic trick. Then again, these were IWs, witches, warlocks, telepaths, and shapeshifters. They were performing weird tricks in the womb.

  “Usually telepaths play mind games, or read your thoughts,” the doctor explained. “Making someone blackout is new unless they spooked you good with a frightening dream.”

  Ray shook his head. “No, nothing like that,” he said. “I was with her, we were talking, and then I was here.” There was the dream too, but it was just that, a dream. Then he remembered the doctor’s last words. A frightening dream. Did that dream cause me to blackout?

  The doctor made a note of what Ray said, typing it into his pad. Ray wondered if omitting the dream’s details was the right thing. “That’s an interesting story—”

  Two men dressed in black suits and ties entered the room. Ray and the doctor gave cocked glares at the interruption. One of them used their phone to project a large holographic ID card. It read Special Agent Miguel Cortez, Alliance Investigation Team. The second newcomer flashed his holographic ID, Special Agent John Reynolds. Alliance Investigators, top-level Alliance G-men who should be at the airport searching for clues about the attack but were now standing in Ray’s hospital room. They came to have a chat with him, and he doubted it was about football.

  “Mr. Partington,” Miguel said to him when his ID faded after putting his phone away. “We have a few questions for you about happened earlier today.”

  John nodded. “Mind telling us exactly what you told the doctor before we entered?”

  The doctor stood still with his arms crossed. He let out a deep sigh. “Can this wait a bit, guys? He’s still my patient.”

  “No, it can’t,” Miguel said. “You even said so yourself, he’s fine.”

  The doctor left the room at the request of the men, leaving Ray alone with the two government agents. The door shut behind him as he passed through. Ray couldn’t find a panic button to mash. He had a feeling he would need it, given the emotionless looks the two suited agents gave him. He hoped someone on the outside was monitoring his vitals, still hooked up to the machines.

  Miguel stood to his left, John to his right. Their large imposing bodies caused the trembles in his hands to return. He made sure to keep them hidden under the blankets. Ray was asked to tell them what he experienced, so he complied. He explained to them he went to check-in early for his flight and described the battle that broke out, leading to him blacking out when he made contact with Arianna. All incriminating details, such as the fact he hacked the airport’s security systems were left out, he wasn't in the mood for getting charged with cybercrimes.

  John pulled out his tablet, keying the details onto it. Something big happened if the AIT were here, bigger than the attack being a bunch of rowdy IWs trying to bring harm to humans.

  “What was your girlfriend’s name again?” Miguel asked.

  “Arianna Kounias,” he said, and hoped there was some good news waiting for him. “She was on a flight from the EU to New York. She arrived moments before the attack.”

  “And you said she was coming from London?”

  That was what she told him, but he had reason to believe she was on a different flight. He nodded. “Yeah.”

  The two agents looked away from Ray, making eye contact with each other. John typed and tapped on his pad, bringing up, something Ray couldn’t see. When the agent was done reading the contents, he faced Miguel, shaking his head. “There’s no record of anyone on that flight by that name.”

  Feelings of devastation punched him in the gut. “What about the flight inbound from Munich?”

  John looked down, checking his pad and the new screens that flashed, his face changed to blue and white colors from the pad’s backlight. He shook his head again. “Nothing. Honestly, there’s no record of anyone of that name on any of the flights that were coming in. The best we got was that she was booked to take a flight from New York to Los Angeles.”

  Which made sense as Arianna was to transfer to a connecting flight in New York, heading to Los Angeles. Arianna not being a registered passenger on any flight arriving from the EU into the Alliance for that day, however, did not.

  “We’ll let you know if we find anything new, sir,” Miguel said to Ray. “The surveillance equipment in the airport was not only tampered with during the attack but hacked by a third party.”

  Little did the two agents know that Ray was that third party. He smiled once he remembered the blankets had covered his hands. Now wasn’t the time for the AIT to point fingers at him for committing cybercrimes moments before IWs launched an attack, not while Arianna was missing, and a pile of mysteries about her floated to the surface.

  The two agents left him alone. It helped with the jittering nerves. And with that came the ability to think straight and brainstorm several theories regarding the disappearance of the woman he loved.

  Ray was glad he had five years as a journalist on his resume, and many more as a hacker. He would need those skills going forward.

  Nineteen

  Estre
lla

  Estrella saw the man that laughed at her. He stood next to the bedroom door, an Asian man, with long black hair tied into a ponytail dangling behind him, a katana remained idle at his side with its sheath. His well-chiseled body enjoyed the protection of a suit of combat armor hugging the muscular ridges of his arms, and chest, while his hands were wrapped within black leather gloves. Faint traces of white light escaped from the ends of the gloves near his wrists.

  It was the telepath that got into her mind. Estrella debated if she’d kill him fast or make him suffer slowly first.

  “Hello, Estrella,” said the ponytailed telepath. His voice had a touch of charm in it. “Forgive the memory intrusion; I merely wanted to get to you know you better.”

  She was on all fours when she looked up at him, frowning fiercely. Her returning strength and mental will to live made her crawl to the dropped pistol. “Fuck you, pendejo,” she added on her journey.

  “Fuck me?” He snickered. “I’m trying to be nice, saying hello, and this is how you greet me?” She neared the fallen pistol, reaching for it. It faded when she held it. It wasn’t real. Neither were the six others that appeared around her. He was still in her brain. “Now, now. I want to chat, not fight.”

  Geoffrey …

  There was silence in her mind.

  Then, there wasn’t.

  Please standby, I am attempting to match the frequency of his telepathic mind. I should be able to block it, but I will need him to continue to use it.

  Fuck that.

  If I cannot learn his brainwave pattern, then he will maintain his assault on us with his thoughts. This is the only counter I can provide.

  She took her chances, leaping for one of the six pistols. That one too wasn’t real. She wondered if the sudden migraine that erupted was real, or just metal manipulation thanks to the telepath. Not that it mattered, real pain, imaginary pain, it was all the same and all very debilitating.