Divided- 2120

by Brian Savage

  “The servers on the agent floors,” Jack added, a light snapping on in his mind.

  “Yes,” Aeralyn replied, nodding fervently.

  “That’s where the Host lives.”

  “Yes, it’s THE domain, completely and totally set aside for the Host’s sole use, but it pretty much permeates all other systems nowadays.”

  “Didn’t it before?” Jack said, looking around for something to use as an ashtray, before remembering his duffle, and pulling his small, folding travel one from there. “I thought they gave it access to everything when they first started.”

  “They gave it access to everything they could,” Aeralyn corrected. “It wasn’t until after the civil war and the Purges that they were able to give it access to absolutely everything.”

  “The civil war being when the company that created the Host took over.” Jack tapped the ash into the tray.

  “Yes. The Purges were to solidify that control,” Aeralyn said, nodding again at Jack. She noticed the grave look on Jack’s face and wondered about his past. What had he lived through when she ran the program? She was conflicted in what she thought about it. Sad that he had to relive what were some truly painful memories, and happy that he sat before her, unassimilated, completely Jack.

  “I remember the Purges,” Jack said, lowering the cigar from his lips. His grip tightened around the end of the cigar unconsciously, as the now fresh memories replayed in his head. Aeralyn waited, feeling as if Jack wanted to share more; she didn’t want to continue and inadvertently stop him from opening up. He was looking at her, but she could tell by the unfocused way he held his gaze that he wasn’t seeing her. The cigar was held just inches from his mouth, poised for a puff but forgotten. A small, twisting cloud of smoke snaked from the ashen end of the cigar to Jack’s nose, seemingly tickling it, like the cartoon smell off of a tantalizing cartoon pie.

  Jack refocused his gaze, and noticed the cigar. He slowly placed it between his lips and puffed lightly again. “Sorry,” he said, behind the half-smoked cigar.

  “You’re fine,” Aeralyn said quietly, concern in her eyes. “Have you been through a lot?”

  “No more than someone else who has done the things I have.”

  “That’s a silly statement made to give an answer without really answering.” Aeralyn pulled Jack’s jacket up under her chin and looked at him thoughtfully.

  “I’m not one to complain about hardship; others have suffered more.”

  “Another statement made to lessen what you went through and still not really answer the question.”

  “How about you get back to answering my questions first?” Jack said, slightly miffed at the attempt to pierce his finely built wall of self-protection.

  “Okay, Jack,” she said, squinting her eyes at him, “but don’t think this conversation will be forgotten.”

  “What conversation?” he said, smirking.

  Aeralyn rolled her eyes. She sat quietly for a moment, collecting her thoughts and working her way back to where she had left off. “The Purges were, what I believe, the first time the Host used its influence. The company was propelled forward as the most powerful, most profitable, and largest company in the world after the Host and implant programs were created. During the civil war, the company’s side won based almost entirely on the computing power of the implant program. You have a computer permeating every aspect of your life, learning every little detail about you, the tiniest thing you do; how can you fight it?

  “Those on the side that lost, either during the conflict or after, were labeled socialists. The civil war was touted as this last-ditch effort to save the capitalist free world. Brother took up arms against brother, believing that if they didn’t, the very freedoms that were once called self-evident would be taken from them.” Aeralyn paused, looking across the cabin to the other row of seats, trying to collect her words into coherence.

  “A lot happened during the war,” she said, turning back to Jack, his jacket still tucked high under her chin and around her shoulders. “The company was the real victor at the end. Once it was over, once every semblance of what once was had been wiped away, the company stepped in. It used the implant technology to build back at an exponential rate. It acquired other, smaller, completely broken companies from every sector of industry, and branded itself as the new government. ‘Equitable, Profitable, and Free.’”

  Jack recognized the Company’s motto; he pictured it, emblazoned across the front of the capital building.

  “The new country, they said, would be the capitalistic utopia that the founders of the country had always intended, but they were—all of them—deceived. As the new country, now called ‘The Corporation,’ was built, pushback came from prominent members of the old government system. They raised as loud of a warning cry as they could, but were completely shut out by the major news organizations, social media, all these things that fell under the umbrella of the Corporation. Of course, the Corporation didn’t actually own all of these companies, but every one of these companies relied on the Host and the implant technology now. Access had been granted for free to industries like the media.”

  “Oh, to gain the whole world and lose your soul…” Jack chimed in. “At least, I think that is how it goes.”

  Aeralyn sat up, allowing her makeshift blanket to fall back into her lap. “Where did you read that?” she asked, deeply interested.

  “I don’t remember,” Jack said, shrugging. “In one of the probably thousands of books I’ve read.” He twirled his finger at her, indicating for her to continue, as he puffed his cigar again.

  “The Purges, I believe, were the first time the Host showed its potential for influence. Unbeknownst to even the creators, the Host began its assimilation program. It started by conducting experiments on those that had had the implant for the longest—the creators, company execs, people like that. It conducted the tests like the rigorous drug screenings that had once been required by the government. It started with simple things, like changing a memory, for instance. Which, before I go any further, when you relived your first kiss, were her eyes a different color than you remembered?”

  Jack cocked his head to the side in surprise. “Yeah, I thought they were blue.”

  Aeralyn smiled at his affirmation. “So, that is apparently one of the first memories the Host changes when it begins assimilating someone. It’s the perfect placement, in terms of a memory: a point in your life when you started actually making decisions for yourself that would translate into your truly adult life. A harmless memory, but one shared by pretty much every single human being on earth.”

  “So, the Host starts by changing the eye color of everyone’s first kiss.” Jack sat, expressionless, seeking to understand what was said and reserving judgement until later. It sounded so silly, so unbelievable. The eye color thing could have been a fluke or a coincidence…He checked himself. There were no such things as coincidences.

  “I know it sounds too strange to be reality, but it is.” She pursed her lips. “The Purges targeted the prominent figures that weren’t wiped out in the civil war, anyone left over. There wasn’t the number of assimilated people there are today, so the Host fabricated massive amounts of information in order to make it happen. I don’t remember the numbers, but it was said tens of thousands were terminated during the Purges. The information is fuzzy; it’s hard to tell what is true or not.”

  Jack puffed the cigar thoughtfully. He remembered the Purges well. He remembered each file folder handed to the guys on the SWAT teams, the first few pages supposedly biographical information on each one, showing their strong ties to the socialists who had been the cause of the bloodshed during the Second Civil War. The next few pages contained the evidence that showed their collusion with the, now underground, terrorist organization that sought to destroy what everyone had worked so hard to rebuild. He would sit there, feeling the righteous anger at the faces in the pictures. Pictures in family photos, hobby photos, photos from different aspects of the subj
ect’s life, all pulled from social media feeds. Now, he sat in silence, listening to Aeralyn, feeling the weight of the immense guilt at what he had been a part of. He knew he had been lied to; he knew that no one would blame him for what had happened. He still felt the guilt.

  “Anyway. The Purges solidified the Corporation’s hold on the country. It became THE government, the number-one employer, the number-one most profitable business on earth. The founders of the company that became the government started out seeking to protect freedom for all; the Host ensured their success simply to ensure its own survival. The full trust of the Corporation in the Host’s benevolence was concrete after the Purges. The creators were shaking hands and getting their backs patted; all the while, the Host was assimilating more and more people.”

  “I still don’t quite get what this assimilation is,” Jack said, shifting in his chair, seeking to gain a more comfortable position.

  “Assimilation is when the Host takes over a person’s mind,” Aeralyn said, leaning slightly forward. “Not like in the science fiction sense, like instantaneous mind control; way more subtle than that. It starts out working on your memory, working primarily while you are sleeping, and starts influencing you through the feeds you consume every day.”

  “The eye color thing,” Jack stated, trying to show he was listening and at least grasping some of the information.

  “Yeah, that’s the first, and probably the least harmful one, but eventually it has altered enough that it starts moving into the memories it really wants to alter.” Aeralyn yawned; it was getting late.

  “Why does it do the eye color one, anyway?” Jack asked, curious, his cigar now a short stub.

  “It’s the test to see how the person’s mind reacts. It gauges the ease at which future assimilation can occur.”

  “Sorry, I feel like you’ve said that before.” Jack sat his cigar stub gingerly down on the edge of his ashtray to await it going out. He took a deep breath.

  “I know it’s a lot to take in. What is most important for you to know, from what I’ve been told in the past, from what has happened to us since we met, is that the Host is coming after you.”

  “Why me?” he asked, confused.

  “Well, agents are the working arm of the Host. There are things it still can’t do. Agents are supposed to be the most assimilated people, outside of the Corporation’s head guys. Based on the program I just ran, you were only a little more assimilated than the average person.”

  Jack thought about everything she had said so far. Resting his chin on his chest, he tried to put the pieces together, trying to answer the great big question of why. “You said that it could assimilate you during news feeds and stuff like that, right?”

  “Yeah, the implant already has permission to bypass your visual and auditory senses to bring you the feeds; it basically distracts your brain with one thing, and goes to work on another.”

  “I can count, on one hand, the number of times I have watched a visual feed,” Jack said, hoping that, at least, answered part of why he hadn’t been fully assimilated.

  “I’m sure that played a part, but there’s no sense wondering why you weren’t more assimilated. Just be grateful you weren’t. I’ve seen the program run on people who were more assimilated; it doesn’t turn out well.”

  Jack eyed her, wondering if he should be angry with her for taking the chance and running the program on him. He decided that it didn’t matter now. There was a pause in the conversation as they both pondered the risk that had been taken.

  “So, what happened with Brant?” Jack asked quietly, breaking the silence.

  Aeralyn looked up at him sadly as she spoke. “Brant was ‘force’ assimilated.” She looked across the cabin again, avoiding eye contact in her obvious sadness. “I think…” She paused for a second, gathering her thoughts. “I think the Host forced near total assimilation in order to get him to kill us or stop us. I don’t know.”

  “Force assimilation?” Jack’s expression was grave.

  “Assimilation happens over the course of years and years, and can really differ from person to person, based on at what age they got their implant. If the Host tries to push assimilation too fast, the mind fights back. It realizes something isn’t right and attempts to push the intruder out.”

  “But Brant was an agent; shouldn’t he have been more assimilated?” Jack wondered out loud.

  “Even those who are assimilated still maintain part of themselves. They still are them. They’re just completely unaware that what they believe to be their free will is really controlled and influenced by something foreign. When the Host tried to influence Brant to kill us or stop us, whatever, Brant fought back. In fighting back, he basically lost his mind.”

  Jack looked troubled. She hated seeing the effect her words had on him, but knew that sparing him the details of what had transpired out on the dirt airstrip would leave Jack in a state of inner turmoil, constantly wondering if there was more he could have done. As painful as it was to tell him, he needed to know, for his own sanity.

  Jack could tell by Aeralyn’s expression that his horror registered on his face. He felt new agony inside at what must have been an epic struggle for Brant. Turning his weapon on himself had been the only way out that Brant had found, that would keep Jack safe. Jack closed his eyes, shutting them to the tears that threatened to spring anew.

  “I’m s…” Aeralyn caught herself just before she uttered the words Jack had forbidden. He looked up and smiled at her, eyes catching the glint of the yellow-tinted cabin lights.

  “He was the best partner I ever had.” Jack looked back down, wiping a hand across his face.

  “Do you remember, in the car, when you guys first picked me up?” Aeralyn asked, changing the subject slightly.

  “Yeah.”

  “Brant had said, ‘He thrusts his fist against the post…’ Do you remember that?”

  Jack cocked his head to the side, then looked up. “Now that you mention it…I think I do. It’s kind of fuzzy.”

  “I’m sure the Host attempted to assimilate that memory. It’s what is called a ‘continuity transfer.’ Basically, when the Host is targeting someone, someone like you, it attempts to learn everything about you that it can. You were reading the book IT, by Stephen King, weren’t you?”

  “Yeah, a friend of mine gives me books to read every once in a while; I think that was the last.”

  “Do you recognize the line, ‘He thrusts his fist against the post’?” Aeralyn asked.

  “It’s what Bill says. In the book. For his stutter, right?”

  “Yes.” She smiled at him. “Brant knew the line because the Host was transferring information from your mind to his.”

  Jack was taken aback. He could remember the conversation in the car, but Brant actually saying those words was still fuzzy. It felt right, but the memory had not taken a solid form yet.

  “Why?” Jack asked, for what he felt was the hundredth time.

  “The Host had already deemed Brant the backup plan to the robot. It had probably deemed Brant the backup plan since you became partners. I’m sure that the Host has known for a long time that you couldn’t be assimilated so easily. It must have finally had enough and tried to drop that aerial on your head.”

  Jack sat forward in his chair, as if getting closer to better hear her. “You’re telling me the aerial that hit the gate was aimed at me?”

  “You were there, weren’t you?” Aeralyn asked, voice slightly raised.

  “Well, yeah—” Jack started before Aeralyn interrupted him.

  “There are no such things as coincidences,” she said, smirking at him.

  Jack sat back slowly. “You getting some continuity transfers from me?”

  Aeralyn laughed, a light, lilting laugh that was music to Jack’s ears. After a few moments, he joined in the laughing, chuckling lightly, not fully letting himself go to whatever it was Aeralyn thought was funny about the situation. Aeralyn calmed herself, bringing herself back to
a more serious manner before responding.

  “I think we are just that alike, you and I.” The smile that had accompanied her laughter still played on her lips as she looked at Jack. Jack smiled back at her.

  “You still haven’t completely told me what assimilation is.” Jack held his smile, and her gaze, but changed the subject.

  “Uh…well…” Aeralyn was distracted. Maintaining the eye contact with Jack’s baby blues, she shook her head, breaking the spell. “It started with the algorithm used by most social media feeds. They were programmed to show you more and more of what it believed you wanted to see. Makes sense for a personal feed, right? Problem was, bots created by people with nefarious purposes were able to use the algorithms to spread whatever it was they wanted. They did it slowly at first, using the truth, but tweaking it slightly, until they were posting full-on, unsubstantiated bullshit.” Aeralyn’s brow furrowed in anger.

  “They say it takes just three times viewing or reading something before it starts to sound true. One time, your mind dismisses it as crap; the next, it credits it for being possible; and the third, it actually starts believing there is truth in there somewhere.” She shook her head. “People were naive to think it had no effect on them. Still are, I guess.”