The Installed Intelligence Trilogy Collection

by Phoenix Ward

  Karl descended with himl, avoiding the filthy handrail. As they approached the lower floor, he could smell the pleasant aroma of laundry detergent wafting up from the nearest door. He hadn’t realized how stale the normal air was in the prison until that moment.

  Once the laundry room door closed behind them, Sam Sam waved his wrist over the lock, and then turned to face Karl. He rolled up his sleeve and revealed a fully functional smartwatch, which he immediately checked.

  “It’s time,” he said. He looked up and saw Karl’s curious gaze upon his wrist. “One of the guards set this up for me. A digital skeleton key, at least for our purposes.”

  “A guard helped you?” Karl asked.

  “Yeah,” Sam Sam said with a chuckle. “As a data runner, I find myself in the possession of some sensitive information sometimes. There are a few guards here who would rather that information remain private, so they help me out when I need it—like now—and their secrets remain just that.”

  “So you blackmail them?” Karl said.

  Sam Sam’s face fell into amusement. “That’s right,” he said. “But if you knew the secrets I was keeping for them, you wouldn’t think of them as victims. Trust me.”

  The data runner moved across the laundry room, dodging double-load machines as he made his way to a door painted to look like the walls. It wasn’t hidden, but it didn’t advertise itself as a public passageway. Sam Sam waved his wrist over where a doorknob would usually be, but didn’t push the door open.

  “If you’re blackmailing guards to give you skeleton keys, why do you even need me?” Karl asked.

  Sam Sam looked toward the door they entered through as though sensing someone approaching, then snapped out of it and met Karl’s eyes.

  “I’ve told you already,” Sam Sam said, “I know about Maynard. That I.I. in your brain can do more for us than any guard can. He’s the missing piece to our escape.”

  “But how?”

  “There’s only so much of the prison that is controlled locally,” Sam Sam explained. “The locks, the work schedules, the guard shifts—those can all be worked out from here, within the big house. But there’s plenty I can get no control of within these walls. The security cameras, for example. They’re run by computers, so there’s no chance of blackmail. I’m left with only one option.”

  Before Karl could reply, Sam Sam pushed open the concealed door and stepped within.

  There was a moment of hesitation before the psychologist followed the data runner. He looked around for a camera bank with nervous eyes and was both surprised and relieved to find them unwatched.

  “Good,” Sam Sam said from within the other room. “They’ve left us everything we need.”

  As Karl entered the room, he saw the data runner moving toward two piles of clothes set up on a changing bench.

  It looked like they were in a small security room that doubled as a locker room for the prison guards. Judging from the size and the lack of anyone else, this wasn’t one of the main security rooms. Karl could see that it was equipped with a monitoring station, as well as networking equipment. Karl closed the door behind himself, and it beeped before locking.

  “How do you know about Maynard?” he asked once it had been silent for a minute. “The courts didn’t even know.”

  Sam Sam was already changing into his new set of clothes, which was apparently a prison guard uniform. There was a second one for Karl as well, but he didn’t start changing yet.

  “That’s because they didn’t care, Karl,” Sam Sam said. He seemed to be struggling with one of the shirt buttons. “They didn’t have any reason to know you were sharing your mind. It wasn’t like they’d spent months watching your lab prior to the shooting, collecting data on each of the scientists. It’s not like they had any of the records or transcripts of your research meetings.”

  “But you did?” Karl interjected.

  Sam Sam nodded. “That’s right,” he said.

  “Why?”

  “It’s my business, Karl,” Sam Sam said. “I work with implanted inmates every day—in fact, they bring in the most money—and your lab was one of the most advanced bioengineering centers in the world. It was in my best nature to research what you were up to.”

  “So how is an I.I. supposed to help the situation?” Karl wanted to know.

  He could feel a little resentment burn from the underpowered I.I. in his brain.

  “He can take control of the camera feeds and cover our escape by making them see whatever he wants them to see.”

  “And that’s supposed to work?”

  “In theory, yes,” Sam Sam said. “Everything about his code is flexible and transcribable. There shouldn’t be any compatibility issues. The only problem is getting him onto the network. We can’t just turn on the wireless component of your C.C. and have him log in, for a few reasons. First, and most important, they deactivated that function when you were sentenced. We could always turn it back on, but it would require surgery, and there’s a significant risk of permanent damage. Even then, using the wireless would be instantly detected by the network’s security system. It will lock down without hesitation. Otherwise, anyone with a tablet could bring down the prison locks if they were close enough. That leaves us with manual transmission.”

  “Manual?” Karl said.

  Sam Sam bent over and grabbed one of the shiny metal tools on the bench that Karl had failed to notice. He lifted it up for the psychologist to observe.

  “Do you know what this is?” Sam Sam asked.

  The device looked almost like a dental pick, or like an old—school mouth thermometer. However, the other end of the tool looked identical to a thumb drive, complete with a plug to allow connection to a computer.

  Karl shook his head.

  “This is called a ‘data pick,’ ” Sam Sam explained. “You ever seen one before?”

  Again, Karl shook his head. “But I’ve heard of them.”

  “You get the basic gist, then? It can store cerebral data just like any hard drive can. In fact, one end can plug into a computer so you can use that data without a C.C. The other end—”

  “Plugs into me,” Karl interrupted.

  Sam Sam smiled with warmth. “That’s right,” he said. “Though I’ve heard it’s entirely painless. The needle is incredibly small—microscopic, in fact. It’s just a quick prick into your spine—”

  Karl raised his hand, interrupting again. “Thanks,” he said. “But I don’t need all the details. Is this entirely necessary?”

  “To get Maynard onto the network, I’m afraid so,” Sam Sam said. Then, sensing the psychologist’s next question, he continued. “And that’s our only way out of here. We have to take care of the cameras.”

  I don’t have to do anything, actually, Karl thought to himself.

  He felt a firm nagging come from within in response. He tried to ignore it for a few seconds, but couldn’t, and gave Maynard enough power to speak.

  “The only other choice is life in prison, Karl,” Maynard said.

  Not so, Karl replied. I can appeal. I can try my case over and over until the evidence arises in my favor and I walk free. These aren’t the old days, Maynard. A man cannot spend his life in prison for nothing.

  “Such a naive answer,” the I.I. said. “You have no evidence to make such claims. No one would ever hear from the innocent if they had no voice. Someone is working against us. As long as we have that to contend with, we will always be at a disadvantage. Your chance for freedom is here. Take it!”

  But will it be freedom? Karl asked. Will we not just become fugitives? We will always have to watch our backs, taking extra measures to remain unseen at all times. Is that actually freedom?

  “No,” Maynard replied. “But it’s a means to achieve it. There’s a traitor out there, and as long as he remains unexposed, we will have to run. But we can’t expose him from in here. Karl, we need to be out there before we can even try for real freedom.”

  But what if we never catch him?<
br />
  “Then we’ll have tried.”

  “Karl?” Sam Sam said, breaking through the psychologist’s thoughts. “What do you say?”

  Karl pondered for a moment before nodding, his lips pursed.

  “Just turn around. This will only take few seconds,” the data runner instructed.

  The psychologist did as he was told. He could feel his skin run cold, the blood draining from it. His hands became clammy, and sweat started to dribble out from his hairline.

  “Just a deep breath.”

  He inhaled.

  The needle went in, and he felt his spine lock up. There was a sharp feeling along his neck muscles, but it wasn’t painful. It was more like a sudden and simultaneous relaxation of all the muscle cells in his neck.

  The best way he could describe it was uncomfortable. Incredibly uncomfortable.

  “There,” Sam Sam said, withdrawing the data pick. “Not so bad, right?”

  Karl rubbed the spot where the needle had penetrated. He’d expected to feel sore, but he felt nothing at all. Still, he rubbed.

  “Strange,” he replied.

  Sam Sam turned around, holding the data pick like it was made of glass, and plugged it into the nearby workstation.

  “This will take just a moment,” the data runner said with his back turned. He moved the mouse a bit and clicked on something. “Okay, he’s in. He’s down for this plan, right? I forgot to ask. I just assumed.”

  “He’s agreeable,” Karl said.

  “Good. I should have double-checked, though,” Sam Sam said. There was a pause, then, “How is it, sharing a brain with an I.I.?”

  “Difficult,” Karl said.

  They were both quiet. Then there were two sharp knocks on the door they had come through.

  Karl jumped to his feet, his heart leaping even higher. He grabbed the bundle of guard’s clothes meant for him and held it in front of him like a shield.

  “Relax,” Sam Sam said. “That’s just the signal. The cameras have been taken care of.”

  The psychologist took a moment to calm his pulse before he noticed Sam Sam approaching him with the data pick.

  “Just one more injection, Karl,” the data runner said. “That is, assuming you want Maynard back.”

  Karl sighed a little, then turned around.

  This time he felt nothing.

  “Long time no see,” the I.I. said inside Karl’s mind.

  “There you are,” Sam Sam said. “Now get dressed. We don’t have a long window to get to the car.”

  “Car?” Karl echoed.

  “That’s right. Our way outta here.”

  Karl took the answer at face value and turned to the pile of clothes designated for him. Sam Sam seemed to sense his hesitation.

  “My guards are just outside the door, playing lookout,” he said. “You don’t have to worry about anyone walking in on us.”

  Karl nodded and started putting the clothes on. The pants were a little long for him, but he tucked the excess up into the hem to make it look like a perfect fit. After he had taken the socks, he realized there was an ID badge just under the clothes. It had his photograph in it, somehow taken to look professional, and the name on it was Steven Patricks.

  “That’s your name for the escape,” Sam Sam said, checking himself for any imperfections. “If anyone asks, that’s who you are. You got it?”

  “Got it.”

  Karl double-checked his own uniform once everything was on. He made sure his badge would be easy to see, but not attract attention. He looked up at the data runner, who had his ear pressed to the door.

  “All good?” he asked when he heard Karl stop moving around.

  Karl nodded, which Sam Sam couldn’t see, but he apparently understood it nonetheless.

  “Let’s go,” Sam Sam said, pushing the door open.

  “This shift change is ridiculous,” the taller guard said to his more muscular counterpart. “They got you coming in on Monday, too?”

  “Mmhmm,” the shorter guard said.

  “See, that’s bullshit!” the taller guard cried. “I told them ‘no Mondays!’ and what do they do? I’m gonna have to take this up with the super.”

  “It’s your funeral,” the other guard replied. “Personally, I’d keep it to myself. There’s no shortage on applicants.”

  The taller guard sighed angrily. “There’s no winning, is there? Hey, did you guys get put on Monday, too?”

  Karl and Sam Sam were only passing by the two guards as they talked, so they were both taken by surprise when they were addressed. Each looked around, as if there were someone behind them the guard was speaking to, but snapped to when they realized there were alone.

  “No, not Monday,” Sam Sam said.

  “What!” the taller guard asked, an incredulous expression on his face. “Who’s your super?”

  Karl and Sam Sam looked at each other.

  “That’s none of your business,” Karl said.

  Sam Sam glanced over at him with uncertain eyes.

  “None of our business, eh?” the shorter guard said. The two of them stepped away from the wall they were leaning upon. “Keeping secrets? They payin’ you overtime tonight?”

  “You know I can’t talk about that,” Karl said. He stood his ground. “Why don’t you guys worry about how your supervisor is running your team, and we’ll worry about ourselves. This issue doesn’t concern us.”

  The taller guard stepped up so there was barely an inch between his face and Karl’s. It looked like he was about to snort visible clouds of anger, like some sort of cartoon bull. Then he took a deep breath.

  “He’s right,” he said to the side to his companion. “They didn’t set the wages. This is all Greg’s fault—we oughta take it up with him.”

  “That’s all you, man,” the shorter guard said.

  Karl gave them a nod, then continued walking. Sam Sam picked up on his cue and followed.

  Once they were out of earshot, Sam Sam said “Good work. This way.” He led Karl through a door that read “Security Garage: Authorized Personnel Only.”

  The smell of motor oil hit Karl’s nostrils as soon as the door was opened. When they stepped through, they found themselves in a wide garage that fit two rows of four SUVs. Sam Sam led the way to one without a break in his stride.

  He reached into the vehicle’s wheel well and retrieved a key. With a proud grin, he fit it into the driver’s door and unlocked the car.

  “Come on,” the data runner urged.

  The psychologist paused for only a split second before walking around the vehicle and opening the passenger-side door.

  “Here we go,” Sam Sam said once he climbed into the cab himself.

  He inserted the key into the ignition and gave it a turn, though instead of the usual engine startup Karl was used to, the SUV beeped.

  Then a computerized voice said, “Identification, please.” The same words appeared on a monitor in the car’s dashboard.

  “Ah, yep,” Sam Sam said, as if suddenly remembering a minor ingredient to a cake. With his tongue sticking out in concentration, he rummaged through his pockets. He pulled out another thumb drive, this time without the data pick extension. He gave a delighted chuckle and popped the drive into the car’s computer.

  There was a little delay before a green check mark appeared on the monitor and a chime played.

  “Thank you,” the computer voice said.

  “Ha ha!” Sam Sam laughed, looking over at Karl like a child enjoying his first amusement ride. “We’ve done it!”

  And with that, the engine roared to life and they drove out of the prison.

  Shelter

  “I wish Sam Sam could have driven us a bit farther,” the I.I. complained.

  We’re lucky to have gotten as far as we did, Karl replied.

  “You’re right, but this walk is a bitch.”

  Yeah, well I’m the one who has to walk it.

  “Still, I have to endure.”

  Karl ignored hi
m.

  They had been walking for an hour now since Sam Sam had dropped them off and left them with a change of clothes. The data runner had taken them a full thirty miles away from the prison before saying goodbye and good luck. The psychologist felt lost, but grateful at the same time.

  “What are we going to do when we get into town?” the I.I. asked.

  I don’t know.

  “You don’t know? Why not? Was this as far as you planned?”

  To be honest, yes, Karl said. I hadn’t expected we’d escape, you know.

  “But you should have maybe come up with a plan for after the jailbreak, don’t you think?”

  Perhaps, but I didn’t.

  “Well come on,” Maynard said. “Where will we stay? Don’t you know someone we can trust?”

  I’m not sure, the psychologist said. Don’t you know anyone? Don’t you have any ideas?

  “I don’t know!” Maynard cried, expressing true stress for the first time since he and Karl had been joined. “I’ve been dead for over a decade! Don’t you have any friends?”

  Friends?

  Karl’s mind raced. There were countless faces and names that ran past his thoughts, none sticking or becoming more apparent than any of the others. Old colleagues, former lovers, even childhood friends cycled through his brain until a face came into place.

  “I think I know someone,” Karl said aloud. “But we have to get to town first.”

  Should we hitchhike?

  “No, best to play it safe. We’ll just walk.”

  It’s twelve miles.

  “Then we better keep moving.”

  The psychologist’s fingers trembled as he waited to use the telephone in a restaurant. Maynard had advised against making the call on his personal cerebral computer, and Karl had reluctantly agreed. They’d made their way to a small mom-and-pop diner that still had a business phone with a handset resting against the wall.

  The waitress had seemed annoyed when Karl asked only for the phone, so he ordered a black coffee while he waited. She seemed to be focused on something broadcasting to her cerebral computer when she returned with a mug and the handset. He thanked her, but she had turned away before the words finished leaving his lips.