Calista shakes her head. “This could be dangerous, Henry. She should at least get some training before we arrive.”
He pauses. “Impossible. The brain cannot retain that extent of information overnight. It just wouldn’t work.”
“Which is exactly why this is a bad idea. I’m not too keen on throwing a civilian to the wolves.”
“Your objection has been noted, Captain, but if I remember correctly, it was your idea to bring her along in the first place.”
She rolls her eyes and then looks back towards the controls in front of her. “Noted, and ignored. Sometimes I wish you would just come right out and tell me to fuck off.”
Robbie looks down at his hands, and I watch as they flicker. He doesn’t say anything and I turn away to not look like I’m snooping. We haven’t really spoken since leaving MagHaven; every time I approach him, it seems like he’d rather have nothing to do with me.
“Captain Ridley—”
“I need to concentrate on flying.”
The Major leans back in his seat. “Need I remind you that it was you who called me first? Back in MagHaven.”
“No, you don’t.”
“Then I suggest you drop the attitude. You can’t agree to follow the chain of command and then change your mind when things don’t go your way. It’s childish.”
She forcefully presses a button then gets up from her seat. “You want to talk to me about being childish? Go on, I’ll have this conversation if that’s what you want. It’s not my old wounds I’d be opening up.”
It’s like I’m watching an eventual trainwreck. I just can’t look away.
“Calista—”
She adjusts her gauntlet. “I thought we had an understanding, Henry. If we don’t, then just let me know and I’ll have a word with my father.”
He wipes the sweat off his forehead. “I think we need to calm down.”
Famous last words.
“Let me be absolutely clear. Piper stays here. I will not have you manipulating her into walking blindly into harm’s way. I am a pilot of Voltza and this is my ship—”
“And I am your superior officer.”
I sigh. “Do I get a say? I think I should get a say.” There’s a slight increase of static in the room as a ball of energy races by me.
Calista quickly jumps back into the pilot’s seat. Something has caught her attention.
Henry leans over her shoulder. “What is it?”
“You better buckle up.”
A loud bang echoes as the small ball of energy races back and hits Robbie square in the chest. He looks up, and for the first time I think I’m seeing pure sadness in his eyes. The ball of energy begins to shiver in his arms.
“Robbie...” I say, but the moment that final syllable leaves my mouth, the white of the walls turns to darkness. The only sources of light come from the other side of the screen and the ball of energy in Robbie’s arms.
Bang.
The image of Calista and Henry disappears entirely and the giant screen fills with static and an error message. Robbie still doesn’t move. I walk over and reach to touch his shoulder.
“Hey—” But it passes through him, and for the first time since we both settled in this room we make full lasting eye contact.
He pets the ball of energy—the digital Ocelot—in his arms. “This place truly is a prison. Is this what it feels like to lose your freedom? To not be able to do anything?”
In this moment, I understand. At least as a house, he was able to manipulate the appliances and go where he pleased. “Robbie...”
He lets go of the Ocelot, and the ball of energy races towards a dark corner. “What is my purpose if I can’t help you?”
I take a deep breath. “I... I don’t know.”
Bang.
This one is bigger.
Muffled voices echo from the other side of the screen and then everything goes black. There is absolutely no light—not even the Ocelot—in the darkness.
“Robbie?”
He doesn’t say anything. I reach out in front of me again, but there’s nothing. Even if he was still standing there, I wouldn’t be able to feel him.
Is he still there?
“Please, Robbie, say something.”
Silence.
I sigh and start walking. I don’t know the direction, I don’t know the destination, I just start walking. My steps are slow at first, as if I’m about to collide with a glass panel like a little kid not watching where they’re going. When it doesn’t happen, my steps get bolder until I’m full-on running. I want to crash into something; I want to feel anything tangible.
I stop, press the rook on the palm of my hand, and see the faint orange glow of my keyboard in front of me. I’m still not sure how to use the interface, but it’s not like I have anything else that needs doing.
I type out nothing in particular—my thoughts, my fears, and parts of my story. No one will read this, but the gentle travel of the keys makes me feel better.
“Hello? Is anyone there?” A voice echoes in front of me. I think I’ve heard it before.
I close my interface. “Yes, over here.”
A small light appears and travels slowly in my direction. It flickers like a candle and I can see the shadow of a person behind it.
“There you are! We should get out of here. This mainframe isn’t safe.” She comes closer and I see a young woman carrying a small sphere of light in one hand. She wears a tactical vest over a ragged hoodie.
I can’t help but be cautious. “Alice?”
“Hey, it is you. That’s good. I’m glad you’re safe. I didn’t think we would be seeing each other again.” She takes my hand and begins to run, pulling me along without a second thought. “Come on, you’re safe now. You’ll see.”
Then, without warning, the darkness becomes a blinding light.
22
THE ALTERED CODE
IT FEELS AS IF I'M SPIRALING. The world is moving too fast. I look over my shoulder, but there is nothing except darkness lingering where I was. Alice’s grip is strong—confident, even. She leads me forward on a path she must have taken many times before. It feels that way, at least.
“I’m so sorry; when you first showed up, we weren’t sure anything had worked, and then those mercs got there... it was a mess and I apologize. That isn’t how we wanted things to go.” She pauses at a small hatch. Her aura has shifted, it seems darker somehow.
I take a deep breath. “Where are we? What’s going on?”
She smiles and kicks open the hatch. “Every wire—every connection—is like a corridor in a giant network of tunnels. Even wireless transmissions of data can be piggybacked to new servers. We’re pieces of code with more freedom than we ever had in MagHaven.”
I pull my hand away as she leads me to a well-lit hallway lined with bright oil paintings. “You need to slow down. I don’t... I can’t process all this.”
Alice sighs. “The simple version is that the algorithm isn’t fair. It came to us that the world was slowly dying and that RigMire was part of a plan to survive.” She pauses. “But why save only the best when you can save everyone?”
A new voice breaks into our conversation. “Alice, we don’t have time for storytelling. Get your ass over here. We have incoming.” I recognize the accent. Pappi?
She reaches for my hand again, but I pull it away. “We don’t have time for this,” she says. “They’re coming.”
I shake my head. “Who’s coming?”
“Mercs.”
An explosive crash echoes as Alice forcefully grabs my arm and starts pulling me through what looks like a gallery. These paintings aren’t paintings at all—they’re framed pictures of a family, plates of food, and random stills, among others. Are we inside someone’s computer?
I find myself running with her, mostly because I don’t know what else to do. Anytime there is a loud crash I end up getting displaced, one way or another. I’d rather not have to go through that again.
�
��There you are, hurry up. Your mother is outside the firewall.” Pappi takes one brief look at me as he addresses Alice. He stands on the other side of a doorway which leads into a kitchen. This looks like the bakery. We hurry through and he slams the door closed behind us. He then pulls up his interface, types something, touches the door and motions towards the front of his business.
“Were there any others?” Alice steps out into the street.
Pappi shakes his head. “I don’t think so. We need to get to Shiloh’s.”
I step outside and for the first time since losing my body, I freeze up. My legs just won’t move. All around me is nothing short of pure chaos.The streets are filled with people running away from something and the smell of fire is strong. How is that even possible in an electronic city?
“Are people rioting?” I take a deep breath.
Alice nods. “Of course they are. We’re fighting the system. We gave people their freedom. A corporation shouldn’t decide how we live and who we save.”
“But you agreed to this place. Did they get that chance?” My attention turns to the crowds shouting across the street. “Do they know they can’t go back?”
Pappi pushes me aside. “We don’t have time for this.”
I shake my head. “Do they know this is a virtual city?”
Alice pauses. “We saved them; that is what they know. The citizens of RigMire opened the doors and saved the people of MagHaven. The Suo Corporation is evil. If you have the power to save everyone, then why not do it?”
I can’t help but wonder if these burning streets and restless people are really in a place of salvation. Out of the corner of my eye, I see a little girl crying next to a woman face down on the ground. Within seconds, the prone body flickers and she sits upright. The child goes to hug her, but the women picks up a bottle next to her and throws it across the way.
Ms. Cato said it herself, this city wasn’t designed to deal with rebellion. They don’t even have a prison—never needed it. What happens now?
“Alice, we go now.” Pappi grabs her arm, but she doesn’t turn away from me.
Instead, she stands her ground. “I get that you’re confused, but this will pass. Forty thousand people will survive because we rewrote the code. Come with us. I’ll take you to Jun, he can explain everything better than I can.”
There’s no denying that words have power. The beauty of having freewill is that you get to choose the paths you wish to walk. Take away the choice and who are we, really? The streets are getting louder and the crashes are followed by explosions and broken glass. These people are just using what they can perceive of the environment as is. Maybe it’s a good thing they don’t know how to use the interface.
I look at Alice and take one step back. “I’m going to find my father.”
Her eyes widen. “You have family here? That’s great. Come with us and we’ll help you find him.”
“No, I don’t think that would work at all.”
When the first gunshot rings through the air, both Pappi and Alice turn and run. Survival is a strong instinct, and right now I might as well be standing in the middle of a warzone. The people react in a similar fashion and run in the opposite direction. I don’t know if they have any idea where they are running to, but it doesn’t matter. Gunfire is the universal signal of death, and right here, right now, it doesn’t matter to me.
Several people clad in tactical gear materialize on my right. The weapons in their hands are familiar, but in a virtual world, I’m not sure how much damage they can actually do. Fear of death is what keeps us breathing.
“I have her.” Someone comes up behind me and I feel the familiar sensation of being pulled through a digital doorway. “I have her.”
“Talia?”
The woman nods and adjusts her visor. “Such a mess. At least one thing went right. Please don’t run away again. I’ve got a lot on my plate and I’m not being paid to be a babysitter.”
She disappears through another doorway, and I recognize this room as my father’s study. Georgie appears behind me. “Ms. Piper, it is a pleasure to see you again.”
I take a deep breath. “My father, where is he?”
He bows and points towards the hallway to my left. “Right this way, please.”
And then we walk—each of our steps echoing across the stone floor.
23
THE CITY OF ASH
I'VE HEARD MY FAIR SHARE OF STORIES from behind the bar. The liquid in the bottles influences the narrator’s delivery, but there is always a constant that no amount of alcohol can influence—perspective. How the story is told may be the most important influencer. Who is the hero? Who is the villain? Every protagonist always presents a case for the good over the evil, but I often find myself asking about these labels.
There is no good or evil, only people who make decisions.
Georgie walks a steady pace, unfazed by the smell of burning wood drifting in from the windows. For a digital city, I can’t deny how real it feels to walk and to breathe here.
I recognize the room ahead as the library. Georgie opens the door, bows slightly, and then waves me in. My father sits in a chair facing the window with a distinct bottle on the ground at his feet. There are no lights, only the silhouette and shadows emanating from the fireplace.
“RigMire is burning.” He coughs. “Don’t they know it’s pointless? A phoenix needs only ash to be reborn.”
I make my way to the balcony window. “Fire isn’t the answer.”
He picks up the bottle. “Tell that to the heroes making noise in the streets. You can’t save everyone—you shouldn’t save everyone. There must be a balance. People have to make the choice.”
I sigh. “And what choice is the algorithm making?”
He pauses. “The most important one.” An explosion erupts in the distance. “But even that piece of code is flawed. If it had made the right decision—chosen the right citizens—then none of this would ever have happened.”
I open the door and look out at the city. “The algorithm is code, and this place runs on people’s ability to manipulate it. Maybe this was inevitable.”
He takes a large drink from the bottle. “We’re supposed to be saving the world after the world ends.”
I nod. “And some people think it’s better to save the world’s people now.”
Without warning, he throws the bottle into the wall. It shatters instantly. Georgie wastes no time in cleaning it up.
“People need to make this choice. This life should not be imposed on anyone without their consent. The organic disintegration is required to create the neural tether. There is no going back. Not in the traditional sense.” My father stands, types into his interface, and a bottle materializes at his feet. “And those people who think they’re sticking it to the corporations... they don’t understand. Only the best of us earn tickets because we are willing to make the sacrifices.”
I watch as he struggles to open the bottle. “Dad—”
He shakes his head. “Utopias are myths. I don’t know why I thought we could make this work.”
Georgie disappears as the explosions get closer. The fires are traveling with what looks like a group of people.
“Miles, we have to go. We’re regrouping at the office.” Elizabeth Cato walks into the room and pauses only to glance in my direction. “Dust yourself off and let’s go. We need to initiate the reset.”
I look at her and then at my father. “What reset?”
She rolls her eyes and reaches under her jacket. “We don’t have time for this.”
A parallel. Pappi said the same thing to Alice when I first returned.
Talia runs in and looks more than a little frustrated. “We can’t stay here.”
Ms. Cato nods. “I know. Miles?”
Gunshots.
My father shrugs. “Maybe we should just let this play out. Let them purge the system in their own way.”
Ms. Cato shakes her head. “That is actually the stupidest thing I�
��ve ever heard you say. Get your blockers up and then we’re going.”
“Blockers?” I take a deep breath.
She nods. “You need to protect your code here like you would have protected your body out there. Contrary to what anyone tells you, death is inevitable. No one lives forever.”
“We should move.” Talia walks over and grabs my father’s arm.
Ms. Cato makes her way to me and opens her interface. “I need you to give me access.”
I pause. “I don’t know how.”
She looks down at the rook in my palm. “Open it and hold down F7.”
There is a moment when I think this may be a trick, but the look in her eyes is genuine. A loud crash echoes downstairs, prompting me to do exactly as she says. A small bar appears over the interface and then her aura rapidly shifts before settling again. She types, and for the first time I look at my arms and see something other than crimson.
“Teal?”
Talia nods. “Yes, now let’s hurry up and get—”
She sees it before any of us do—the barrel of a rifle emerging through the doorway. She pushes my father out of the way as it fires. The bullet hits her in the shoulder and she falls back against the grand bookcase. She sits upright as her image flickers.
Ms. Cato pushes me behind her. “Guns? This is barbaric.”
“Who are you calling a barbarian?” The man holding the rifle pauses and then aims at us. “Name-calling is rude and downright juvenile.”
Ms. Cato clears her throat. “I said no such—”
He squeezes the trigger and I jerk her out of the way with enough force to put us both on the ground, hard. Another man and two women enter the room. I can feel my heart rate steadily increasing as the man with the gun flips over a small side table.
“Some things have to change around here. You elitist assholes need to know what it’s like to be on the bottom.” He turns his attention to my dad. “Get on the ground.”
My father takes a sip of his whiskey. “You fancy yourself a revolutionary? Well, I hate to break it to you, but this isn’t a revolution.”
“I said, get on the ground.” The man motions for one of the women to approach my father. In her hand is a broken bottle. The glass flickers, almost as if it’s glitching.
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