The Lucid: Episode Three

by Nick Thacker

  In an instant he was standing in a corridor, the lights dimmed, and an eery silence all around. He was immediately assaulted by a putrid aroma, however, and realized with disgust that it was coming from him. The man had apparently soiled himself a number of times as he’d shambled along in the corridor.

  David retched, vomiting on the floor and collapsing to his knees. He realized, then, that he felt a tremendous thirst and hunger. This man was badly dehydrated, and hadn’t eaten in some time.

  David initiated the retrieval protocol, and was soon back in his own body. He panted a bit from the remembered misery, and had the MCU dim the lights and pump more oxygen into the room, to help him calm down.

  This would not do.

  Now that David had this ability, the Suppressed were his means of freedom. He could be anyone, anywhere. But if the Suppressed were allowed to deteriorate, to starve or to be injured, what good would it do him?

  He came to the realization, in that moment, that he had a marked responsibility to make sure the Suppressed were cared for. It was going to be up to him to make sure they were protected, that they were given food and water and shelter, and that they were kept clean and healthy.

  They were going to be his eyes, ears, and body. It was his responsibility to make sure they were fit for the task.

  So how was he going to pull that off?

  He couldn’t very well control all Suppressed at once. He had experimented with splitting his control, and so far the result was a lot of disorientation and a massive migraine. Direct control of more than one host was impossible.

  But indirect control might not be.

  After all, his operating system was responsible for keeping the UVFs in motion, following directives, carrying out basic subroutines. He could call up any UVF at any time and command it directly, but the rest of the time they ran on their own automated set of behaviors.

  The police cruisers, for example, knew when it was time for a fill up, and they made their way to the automated fuel stations built to supply them. They knew when to plug in and recharge their batteries. They knew when to go through a car wash for God’s sake! And they knew when to park in an overnight storage facility.

  Food. Water. Hygiene. Shelter.

  The basics of human life.

  David had written the protocols, and made them adaptive. This meant that no matter where a UVF was, it would find its way to the closest set of resources to make sure its needs and requirements were met. That was useful, because the UVFs ranged far and wide at times. In fact, at any given time a set of UVFs from, say, Denver might find itself taking shelter in Boulder, and then getting back on the road once all automated maintenance, fueling, and cleaning had been completed.

  The UVFs were built to go where they were needed, and to take care of themselves without human intervention.

  At this point, the Suppressed weren’t much more than organic machines themselves. David could hop into one at any time, and be human for them. But beyond that, everything they needed could be provided by an automated system.

  And a lot of the infrastructure was already in place.

  In fact … all of that infrastructure was in place, though it was currently falling into disrepair.

  But what if David could do some reprogramming, and have the Suppressed start rebuilding?

  It wouldn’t be difficult, really. Despite being mindless drones at the moment, the Suppressed maintained all of their memories. They still possessed their skills. They just couldn’t access that information directly. They had to be told to access it.

  So David would tell them.

  It was going to take a lot of work. A lot of hours. He would need to work around the clock. At first.

  But David knew how to prioritize. He knew how to choose the most important tasks first, and accomplish them quickly.

  He could leap from body to body, keeping himself awake indefinitely while he worked. His own body could sleep, could be fed, could be cared for. The tether between his body and those of the Suppressed would allow him to move perpetually into a fresh unit. He could get a year’s worth of work done in just a couple of weeks, at this rate.

  And his first order of business would be to write a subroutine that would access the memories and skills of Suppressed who could help him in this work. He could multiply his utility, and increase yield exponentially.

  Basically, David was about to outsource his genius, and expand his capabilities a billion fold—tapping into minds of suppressed all over the planet.

  He’d own the world in a month.

  Chapter Eleven

  “This is simply fascinating,” Milton said, scanning the results from the blood tests. “This heavy metal multiplies but doesn’t damage cells. It only penetrates a few, expanding as needed. It forms long chains, about a molecule thick, through the entire body!”

  Milton, Jocelyn, Adam, and Carl were sitting in a conference room where the results of Sarah’s blood tests were being displayed on a large monitor. They’d been here for nearly a week, and it was starting to take its toll on Carl and the others. Jocelyn and Milton seemed indefatigable, willing to go on forever if allowed. But Adam’s patience was more in tune with Carl and the soldiers. He was starting to get antsy and anxious.

  “And what does that mean for us, exactly?” Adam asked. “Is there a cure for this?”

  “We aren’t sure,” Jocelyn said. “I know that’s not what anyone wants to hear, but this is something different than anything I’ve seen before.”

  Carl made a disgusted noise, and leaned back in the conference chair. “So this was a big waste of time,” he said.

  Jocelyn shook her head.

  “Not at all. We know the structure of this, and that’s helpful. But what’s even more helpful is the way this latticework differs in Sara’s blood in comparison to that of the other Suppressed. She was ill, correct?”

  Adam winced. He hadn’t thought much about Sara’s illness, since this started. “She has … had … Turner Syndrome. Kate and I were debating about getting her into hormone therapy.”

  “Turner Syndrome?” Jocelyn asked. She shook her head lightly. “I don’t think so. I’ve seen her medical records, and I know she was frail. But I believe that was due to whatever genetic quirks were keeping her from being fully suppressed.”

  “Are you telling me she was misdiagnosed?” Adam asked.

  “I believe so,” Jocelyn said.

  This was stunning to Adam. All of Sara’s life, the disease had more or less defined her. A lot of the tension and anxiety that had put strain on his marriage to Kate had spun out of Sara’s illness.

  Of course, if he was really being honest with himself, he had to admit there was stress well before Sara was born. And apparently …

  He stopped himself. He didn’t want to think about Kate’s infidelity. Sammie and Charlie—they were his children. Whatever lies Kate may have told were buried with her now.

  Everything was gone.

  All that Adam had left was whatever they could find out about Sara’s blood, and whatever legacy Adam could build from that.

  “So what’s the next step?” Adam asked. “I don’t know how much longer we can hole up here.”

  “Maybe two days,” Carl said, sneering. “At best.”

  “So we have two days,” Adam said, turning back to Jocelyn and Milton. “What can we do?”

  The two scientists exchanged glances, and Adam noted the slight shake of Milton’s head.

  Jocelyn took a deep breath. “We’ve run all the tests we can on Sara’s blood. Now … I think we need access to a Suppressed.”

  Adam blinked, not entirely sure he’d heard her right.

  Carl made a noise that clearly showed his annoyance, then said, “So what are you asking us? You want us to go out and find a Suppressed and bring them back here?”

  Jocelyn met his gaze, and nodded.

  Carl stood then, pushing away from the table. “Unbelievable. How long have you had this idea?”

 
“Since this morning,” Professor Milton said, attempting to sound assertive.

  Adam watched Carl, and saw the tension in his shoulders, his arms. His hands clenched slightly, as if he were ready to make a fist and start throwing punches. Milton rubbed him the wrong way, for sure. It seemed petty, to hold a grudge against the man for doing what Carl himself would have done in similar circumstances. Or maybe that was exactly the way Carl was reacting the way he was.

  Regardless, to Adam this was another red flag, and something to be on guard against.

  Since bringing Milton in, Adam had noticed that things were shifting in their little compound. After leaving Garden of the Gods, and seeing that air strike in progress, Adam had more or less taken it on faith that they were all in this together. But for the past few days that didn’t really add up.

  It was becoming clear that Carl and the other GoG Lucid were on one side, and Adam and the two scientists were on the other.

  Why there should be divisiveness at this point, Adam couldn’t guess. But it was there. Taylor was caustic toward Adam and the others. Carl was ready to boil over. And Lisa …

  Well, actually, Lisa was typically calm. Or quiet, at least. She did her task, and was diligent. She followed orders. She didn’t hesitate. But she also didn’t seem angry or on high alert. She’d even chatted with Adam, Jocelyn, and Milton a few times, when she was on guard duty.

  Which made Adam wonder—if anything happened, if there was any sort of split in the group, could he depend on her as an ally?

  He hoped it wouldn’t come to that.

  The conversation had shifted to a laundry list of things that Milton and Jocelyn needed. Supplies—mostly medical supplies—were running low. They needed a few things to keep the research going. But chief among these, they needed a Suppressed subject. Possibly more than one.

  “We can grab someone,” Adam said.

  Carl sneered at him. “Easy as that, huh? Just roll up and shove them in the trunk of a car or something?”

  “I’m pretty sure the police aren’t going to investigate kidnappings at this point,” Adam said. “The only police we’ve even see have been Suppressed. Or UVFs.”

  “But the UVFs are still running on their original programming,” Carl said. “And they’re armed. Right now, they’re running around in a state of Martial Law. If they think we’re out there kidnapping people, they may just shoot first and ask questions never.”

  “Which would make it very important to avoid being seen by UVFs,” Adam said, growing a little impatient. “Something I thought we were doing anyway.”

  Carl studied him, and Adam could just see the man weighing options and alternative courses of action. Not for the capture of a Suppressed, but for taking action against Adam.

  Maybe Adam was being paranoid, but it was starting to feel as if the greatest danger they faced might be within these very walls.

  I need to be ready, Adam thought. I need to have a backup plan, to get us out here. Just in case.

  “Ok,” Carl said suddenly. His voice was tight, but he had come to some sort of internal conclusion about all of this. “We’ll grab someone.”

  “Two people, if you can,” Jocelyn said. “Not related. Maybe even different races, if possible.”

  Carl’s brow hardened as he said, “Two people, then.”

  He turned to Adam. “Coming?” he asked.

  Adam forced a slight smile. “Wouldn’t miss it,” he said. And I wouldn’t let you out of my sight anyway, he thought.

  Chapter Twelve

  They waited, sitting in one of the Hummers as a UVF passed by. It wasn’t more than twenty feet from them, and everyone held their breath while it went about the circuit of its patrol.

  Adam was sitting in the rear seat again. Carl was driving, and Lisa was in the passenger seat, holding a rifle at the ready. Adam had the .45 in a tight grip, and rested it on his calf. Beside Carl was a rifle leaning against the seat from the floorboard.

  The disparity between their armaments was palpable. Adam had a feeling he was only armed with the .45 because it would look suspicious if they gave him a slingshot.

  They were in a more urban area of Denver, not far from the campus. Here they had spotted some activity—Suppressed roaming in and out of storefronts and other buildings. They were behaving oddly, in Adam’s opinion.

  To date, the Suppressed had more or less fallen into old, remembered patterns. When they dipped from lucidity, they tended to wander around in a delusional state, acting upon virtual objects, performing tasks they had performed days, weeks, years earlier. Some would go through hand motions, as if they were preparing a meal or mowing a lawn or something else entirely. Others would sometimes stand or shuffle about with their hands at their sides, as if in a daze.

  The one trait they all had in common, however, was that they were all in tremendous danger. There were bodies lining the streets—people who had fallen from exhaustion or dehydration, and had either died or were in the process of dying. And in places there were bloody smears and torn flesh, denoting accidents where unaware Suppressed were struck by vehicles or had fallen into open gratings or met with some other tragic fate.

  Adam had stopped looking at them as human, when they were like that. He had to. His urge was always to get out and help. And to do that would be the end for them. He’d never be able to stop. He’d essentially become one of them—another aimless soul wandering among the dead and dying.

  It was better to face it the way he and the others were—with the hope of a cure, and doing everything they could to survive until they could find a way to end this.

  “There,” Carl said, pointing.

  They had come to this spot because of all the active Suppressed, but had hesitated to bring in anyone they’d encountered so far. Jocelyn and Milton had given them some specifics on who would make a good subject. Most of the Suppressed didn’t fit the bill. They were too far gone, for the most part.

  But as they’d gotten closer to the center of Denver, things began to change.

  Suddenly the Suppressed were … well … clean. They also looked hydrated and fed. And they were going about tasks that didn’t look rote, but instead seemed almost normal.

  Looking closer, however, they could see that these ‘normal’ activities were unusual themselves. Suppressed were randomly picking up objects, tools, and materials, and carrying them into buildings or alleyways. They would start doing things—using tools, lifting materials into place, things like that. None of it really made sense, but it all seemed somehow very productive.

  “Is this normal?” Carl asked, looking over his shoulder.

  Adam shrugged from the back seat. “What exactly is normal these days?”

  Carl turned, shaking his head. “Good point. So we grab a couple of these more well-to-do types, right?”

  “They fit the bill,” Adam said.

  Lisa spoke up. “How do we do this? Just … just grab them?”

  Adam reached into the seat beside him and held up the white paper sack that Jocelyn had given him. “We use this. There are four syringes in here, capped. They contain a sedative. Jocelyn walked me through doing the injections. These will knock them out for a couple of hours, and we can haul them back to the lab.”

  “Four?” Carl said.

  “We only need two subjects, but we get four tries,” Adam said.

  “Should we bring more?” Carl asked.

  He suddenly seemed very amicable. For the past few days he’d been uptight, angry, ready to snap. Was that really just cabin fever? It made Adam wonder, but it didn’t change his opinions. Whatever was going on here, Adam needed to have a plan in place to make an escape, if necessary.

  “We’ll stick with two,” Adam said. “I think we’re pushing our luck with that many, as it is.”

  They got out of the Hummer and quickly made their way across the street and into a nearby building, crouching to avoid detection by any UVFs that happened by. Adam caught the sign on the building, before they entered.


  Metro Denver Utilities.

  They were entering a local utility office–possibly a main branch. And it showed every sign of being active and maintained.

  “What the hell is going on here?” Adam whispered.

  “Don’t follow,” Carl said. “What do you mean?”

  “Look at this place! It’s in good shape. It’s been repaired, I think. By … by the Suppressed. It’s as if they know what they’re doing. Is that possible?”

  Carl shrugged. “No idea. This is all weird, though, so I don’t see any of this as being any weirder.”

  “It doesn’t fit,” Adam said.

  “It doesn’t matter,” Carl replied, and the edge was back in his voice.

  Adam noted this, nodded, and the three of them moved again.

  They were inside the facility now, and Adam could see tons of electrical equipment ranging through a large vault of a room. This was likely a main component of Denver’s electrical grid. The Suppressed were working to restore infrastructure?

  Two figures—a young man around twenty and a woman in her forties—stepped through a door a few feet from them, carrying tools and materials. They shuffled a bit, but they were definitely moving with some purpose. They settled in front of a panel, and the young man began removing screws, placing them with precision on a small ledge nearby. When he had them removed, he pulled the panel and revealed a series of wires, conduits, and breaker switches.

  The woman placed the objects she’d been carrying on the floor, and reached into the panel, grasping one of the breakers and pulling it hard. It popped free, and she placed it on the floor near her pile. She then sorted through the objects she’d brought in, picked up an identical breaker, and then stood and slid it into place in the panel. She flipped the switch on the breaker, and there was a sound from somewhere in the facility—a single horn that indicated a process had started somewhere out of sight.

  “They’re making repairs,” Adam said. “How in the world?”

  “Who cares?” Carl whispered, fiercely. “They’re perfect. Do your thing!”