The Lucid: Episode Three

by Nick Thacker

  Instead, David had been introduced to several brilliant grad students and a team of accomplished researchers, all of whom had not yet cracked a viable human-machine interface.

  He was also shown the heavy metal.

  He’d been escorted into a secure lab on the university campus, and directed to an instrument array that included a sophisticated digital microscope and scanner. He peered into an eye piece to see a sample of human cells—brain cells. These were normal, gray little dots. But a moment later he was shown brain cells that were infested with the heavy metal.

  These looked essentially the same, but they had changed from gray to a light pink, with tiny dark splotches peppering them like pizza toppings. He increased magnification, and saw that the dark splotches were actually crystalline structures. Across each cell was a latticework of crystals, forming a sort of web. The larger blotches were little nodes, dug in deep within the cell, and networking together by tiny thread-like crystal pathways.

  David was completely fascinated, and immediately taken by what he saw.

  Later, as he experimented and followed up on research from the rest of the team, it was David who finally realized that the latticework forming over each braincell was actually resonating with a specific frequency. In essence, the heavy metal was forming tiny antenna arrays on each brain cell.

  Actually, it wasn’t just brain cells. The latticework spread throughout the entire body. It was too tiny to see with conventional scanning technology, but with the equipment in this lab David could see that every human cell was eventually impregnated with the tiny nodes of the metal, and the lattice of threads spread from one cell to another.

  The entire human body essentially became a receiver for the frequency that resonated with the heavy metal nodes.

  That was interesting, but it hadn’t become altogether relevant until much later.

  There had been a great deal of research into how, exactly, the nodes were effecting the human brain cells. The results of numerous tests suggested an almost Alzheimer’s type response, with patients entering a sort of fugue state, reacting to random memories that became active as the metal replicated itself throughout the brain and the body.

  That was interesting indeed. Because as David experimented he discovered that he could modify his own software and technology—the tools he had used to help Mother stabilize somewhat—and if he broadcast on the proper frequency he could interact with the lattice of heavy metal throughout the cells. And as the program took hold, the cells responded by changing their own signals.

  David had petitioned for access to a live patient, after discovering this. He hadn’t been much for sharing his research with anyone else on the ‘team,’ but he’d been delivering reports to his unknown benefactors for some time. And he’d barely finished making his request before he’d gotten an affirmative response.

  That very afternoon he was given a test subject and the freedom to experiment. And within the hour he had not only brought the patient’s random-seeming actions to heel, he had figured out the ‘base code’ of their thought process, and had issued a few outside commands.

  The patient responded to every one.

  True, it wasn’t always perfect. It took some time to work out exactly what stimulus produced which results. At one point the patient had collapsed, and a med team had rushed in to check vitals and revive the man. Apparently David had induced a micro-coma.

  The control David was exerting was far from perfect, of course. There was still much to learn and a long way to go. Exerting complete control could only happen when the patient was almost completely overrun with the heavy metal poisoning, which not only made them susceptible to control, it endangered some of their autonomic systems.

  But over time, David was learning to refine and hone the process. And his research had led to great strides in artificial intelligence as well as human-machine interaction.

  The UVFs were part of that outcome. In fact, automated and intelligent technology worldwide owed its roots to David Priseman, who was never acknowledged for any of it.

  Which didn’t matter much to David. He had his work. He had his research. He had the backing of Halpern and the organization.

  What he didn’t have was a body.

  This useless lump of flesh he inhabited was fine for housing his intellect. He didn’t need his hands or legs in order to do his work. He had technology for that. His own research had made it possible for him to interface with his mobile command unit, and the MCU supplied him with everything he needed.

  Everything except the ability to walk among others, or feel the touch of someone’s hand, or just go to the damned bathroom on his own volition.

  David had always thought of himself as being a bit like Stephen Hawking—a brilliant mind trapped in a useless body, aided by machines so as to continue his great work.

  But unlike Hawking, David’s work could actually free him from the machine.

  This was something of a black project, even within the organization. In fact, once David had realized the potential of this line of research, he decided to keep it to himself. There had never been a report to Halpern or the organization about this particular line of study. The only records of it existed within David’s MCU, and that was an impenetrable sphere of data. David had isolated that research from anything that was accessible from the outside.

  He turned to it now, though, with a sense of exhilaration.

  The attack on this facility had done some damage to systems across the board, and there had been many deaths among the patients as well as the soldiers. But there are still a few significantly Suppressed patients on hand. And in the undamaged areas of the facility the equipment was still fully functional.

  The signal was universal by this point—transmitted via mobile phone towers and satellites, blanketing the United States. With only a few adjustments, that same signal could have blanked the entire world. But here, in this facility, the ubiquitous signal wasn’t going to be enough for David’s plan. It would just be the carrier for what came next.

  David called up his black research and started initiating the protocols he had developed. The MCU docked and armed itself—its ablative plating thrummed with electricity, and the automated defenses became active. The MCU wasn’t quite as agile as the sphere, but it made up for that lack of agility by being nearly indestructible. It would be the perfect housing to protect David while he embarked on the next level of human existence.

  Within the facility, in one series of labs that were isolated from the rest, David activated the thousands of cameras and scanners that functioned as his eyes and ears. The systems in the MCU converted these images and signals into something simple and comprehensible to David, immersing him in a world of sensory data that made him feel as if he were in the very room with these patients.

  These were all highly infected individuals. They were the ultimate outcome of the Suppressed—mindless drones bouncing around in their environment, with no notice of causing themselves harm, of starving themselves to death. They shambled about in these labs, protected from their own actions by cushioned surfaces, and fed by tubes running from a backpack apparatus.

  They were the extremes, and David and his team had learned a lot from them.

  Now it was time to put them to use.

  David engaged the systems associated with his black project, and in moments the Suppressed stopped moving. They swayed in place as he watched, but started with glassy eyes into an unseen horizon.

  David called up a protocol he’d been working on for years now. It was familiar, at its base. The same programming he’d used to calm Mother.

  But it was vastly expanded from that original programming. It was far more evolved.

  He activated it.

  The interface that connected David to his MCU engaged, and David suddenly went into a spasm. He couldn’t feel his body, of course, but he could sense that it was going into a seizure. His brain was isolated from this, buffered from it by the interface. And then the sei
zures stopped.

  And David found himself standing in a lab, with cushioned surfaces.

  He felt the itch and ache of a tube running into the vein of his left arm.

  He felt actual hunger, and a weariness in his legs.

  He felt lungs contract and expand, and air move through his throat and his nostrils.

  He laughed, and the sound was odd. It wasn’t his voice. It was the voice of the patient—a woman, as it turned out. He hadn’t been particularly picky about where the signal sent him, and hadn’t really considered the implications of transmitting to a female body.

  His first thought was to initiate the shutdown—and with that thought it was done.

  In an instant he was back in his body, the signal having shut down and his consciousness returning to its default host. He smiled, and laughed again.

  And this time the laugh was truly his own.

  Chapter Six

  Adam was still in the conference room, contemplating the view of Garden of the Gods. They had brought him a meal—cold cuts and bread, and plenty of water to wash it down. Adam ate mechanically, habitually. He didn’t feel particularly hungry, but some instinct within him reminded him that he hadn’t eaten in nearly 48 hours. Not solid food, anyway. There was no telling what had been pumped into his veins while at that facility.

  He was still reeling from everything that had happened. He played it back, over and over. Sara’s death. The helicopter. The explosion.

  There were other details, he knew. There were things he should have remembered—things he should care about. But those particular details owned him for the moment. They kept him peering out of the window, as if hoping he’d eventually see some sign of life out there. But all he saw were stones and dried brush and the end of everything.

  The door opened, and two men escorted Jocelyn Wu inside.

  She didn’t look any worse for wear. Maybe a bit frazzled. Adam watched as they guided her to one of the chairs and gestured for her to sit.

  She sat, and the men left the room.

  Jocelyn looked around the room, paused briefly on Adam, and then continued her scan, as if she might be searching for a weapon or some means of escape. There was little she’d be able to use, Adam knew. There was only one exit for this room, unless you counted the large plate window, which was probably coated to protect it from accidental impact from a chair or maybe a rock bouncing downhill fast enough to fly into the window from the outside. Adam hadn’t bothered trying to escape, but he had looked around for weapons. The best he’d found was a dry erase marker. He might be able to shatter the plastic and create some kind of jagged makeshift knife, but instead he tossed it in the waste bin near the door.

  Jocelyn looked back at him, after a moment. “They told me you know someone at University of Colorado’s Division of Infectious Diseases.”

  Adam glanced at her, then looked back at the window and said nothing.

  “Dr. Milton?” Jocelyn asked. “I don’t know him, personally.”

  “Neither do I,” Adam said.

  “But you want to take the vials of blood to him?”

  “Sara’s blood,” Adam said, a bit too forcefully.

  Jocelyn didn’t react at first, just sat and stared at him, thin nodded. “Sara’s blood,” she said. “And you think Dr. Milton might have something?”

  Adam shook his head. “I don’t know. Ethan Greer—my friend. He set everything up. But before I could get to him, everything went to hell.”

  Jocelyn nodded. “I’m sorry. I know you’ve lost a lot.”

  Again Adam said nothing. He hadn’t just lost a lot. He’d lost everything. All that remained of his family at all were a couple of vials of his daughter’s blood, and who knew if those could be used in any meaningful way?

  He hoped they could. He wanted Sara’s death to mean something.

  And he knew what was being implied, behind the scenes. He knew what people were trying to say about Sammie and Charlie—he knew they suspected that Kate had stepped out. And maybe she had. There was that period in their marriage, when things weren’t going so well. There was that guy—someone she worked with, someone who seemed a little too familiar with her. All those little signs, from years earlier, all came back as Adam studied the rocky landscape outside of the conference room. And none of it mattered.

  “We’re going to Denver,” Jocelyn said. “We’re going to find Dr. Milton’s lab, and hopefully use it to analyze the … your daughter’s blood. And yours, actually. If we can isolate what makes you different than the other Lucid, maybe we can make some sort of … I don’t know. A cure maybe? And antidote? To be honest, this heavy metal behaves in ways that are dramatically different than anything else I’ve ever seen. There’s really no telling …”

  “You were there,” Adam said, his voice hard and his jaw set. “You’re one of them. From that facility.”

  Jocelyn took a breath. “Yes,” she said. “I was recruited from the WHO. A woman … Ms. Halpern. She brought me in because I was one of the first to recognize that this was all happening because of heavy metal poisoning from a newly discovered element. I didn’t …” she paused now, taking a shuddering breath. “I didn’t know about your family. Or anyone else there, really. I was told the subjects were all rescued, or volunteers.”

  “Volunteers,” Adam said quietly.

  He was staring at her. He was angry with her, but he wasn’t even sure why. She had escaped that place as soon as she could, just like him and the others. Her being there, in that place where his family … where they had died … that was just coincidence, wasn’t it? She wasn’t the enemy here.

  David Priseman was the enemy.

  This woman, Halpern—she was the enemy.

  The people behind the scenes at that facility, the people who had orchestrated all of this as if the gradual enslavement of humanity was somehow an opportunity for career advancement—they were the enemy.

  “Why did they bring you in here?” Adam asked.

  Jocelyn shook her head. “I don’t know, really. To convince you, perhaps? Though this was your idea, so I don’t think you need much convincing.”

  “No,” Adam said. “Denver is where I wanted to go all along. So no.”

  “Then to enlist you, maybe. To get you to think of this as a team effort, rather than your own personal vendetta.”

  Adam thought about this. He wanted to snap back about it, to ask, How could this not be a personal vendetta? He wanted to rage about his family, about all of the personal loss he was feeling, about the end of the world.

  And it was that phrase that brought him up short. The end of the world. Billions of people around the globe, suffering the same sort of loss he’s just suffered. He lost everything because of this … this …

  “Heavy metal poisoning?” Adam asked.

  Jocelyn had been studying him, watching him in a way that suddenly felt a bit uncomfortable, though Adam wasn’t sure why.

  She nodded. “There was a meteor strike in Panna. It penetrated into one of the natural aquifers there.”

  “Panna? Like the bottled water?”

  “It’s their primary export,” Jocelyn said, nodding. “The metal from the meteorite is somewhat inert, and there wouldn’t have been enough of it to really do much damage. Except it’s somewhat water soluble. It dissolves, and then the small particles of it spread. Maybe one part per three billion, on the whole. Trace amounts. They didn’t even register on EPA tests.”

  “So how did that end up becoming … “ Adam gestured vaguely, indicating ‘the world’ maybe. The Suppressed.

  “Urine,” Jocelyn said. “The metal reacts to uric acid. It … well it replicates. So once it’s consumed, it starts to embed itself in the urinary tract, and then spread from there into the bloodstream. The particles are small enough and fine enough that they go unnoticed in the body, even after billions of replications. Before they get to levels that might cause noticeable effects, such as a urinary tract infection, they’re expelled as waste. But enoug
h of them penetrate into the bloodstream, and from there end up gathering in the brain. After sufficient quantities, they start to effect changes in personality.”

  “The Suppressed,” Adam said.

  Jocelyn nodded.

  “So what you’re telling me is that when we … when we pee we’re spreading this disease?”

  “Not a disease,” Jocelyn said.

  “Right. Heavy metal poisoning. I get that. This explains why the EPA made a big push for revamping water treatment a few years back.”

  “I was told at the time that it was an attempt to control and possibly stop the spread of the metal,” Jocelyn said. “Now I’m not certain.”

  “Considering Priseman was part of all of this, at my own facility, I’m guessing that keeping things under control was exactly what they were doing. Only the goal was to control us. Whoever Priseman was working for was trying to set up an … an infrastructure. They wanted to have a means of spreading this strategically.”

  There was a knock on the door and Carl, the man who had driven them here in the Humvee, poked his head in. “Anna says it’s time to go.”

  Adam looked from Carl to Jocelyn. “Denver? Now?”

  “The sooner the better. I’ve arranged for the vial of Sara’s blood to be iced, to preserve it longer. But it’s already been awhile, and it wasn’t in the best condition.”

  Adam nodded. “Let’s go,” he said.

  They walked from the conference room, following Carl outside. There were plenty of armed men and women mulling about in the corridors of the building, and in the courtyard outside. They all looked like tourists—all wearing comfortable looking clothing, shorts and T-shirts mostly. Many of the T-shirts bore a logo that read “Garden of the Gods.” Gift shop clothes. Probably the only thing available here, when things started going south.