“Yeah, yeah I hear you. Sorry, I must have been daydreaming,” he answered. “To tell you the truth, I’m not hungry, but I figure I should eat something. Sure, I’ll have some breakfast.”
Alice grabbed a bowl and spoon from the dishwasher and placed them in front of David. He poured a bowl of cereal and splashed some almond milk on top. Outside the sun shimmered, and the ancient oak tree, now stripped of leaves, creaked heavily in the wind.
“Thanks, honey.”
“Of course, baby. I just want you to start feeling better. Tell me if there’s anything I can do for you.”
David turned his attention to his two children. “How are you two doing today?”
Aiden groaned. “I wish I was hurt—then I wouldn’t have to go to school—”
“I wish I could go to school!” said Missy. “Mommy’s boring.”
David laughed, and Alice, despite being the butt of the joke, managed to let out a chuckle of her own.
“Well you’re in luck, little lady,” David said. “I’m going to be home with you all week too.”
“Can we go to the zoo?”
“Honey, the zoo’s closed for the winter,” said Alice. “And your Daddy needs as much rest as he can manage, so he feels better.”
Missy’s lips curled into a pout.
“Don’t worry. I won’t be sleeping all the time. We’ll play too.”
“David, please eat your berries,” said Alice.
“I’m not having berries, I’m having cereal.” David scooped his spoon into his bowl and retrieved a spoonful of blueberries.
“You need to eat more. Those antioxidants will help eliminate any stray Nanos.”
David blinked his eyes in confusion. “What are you talking about, Alice?”
“Who’s Alice? Are you sure you’re okay to do this?”
David blinked again, and upon opening his eyes found he was no longer in his kitchen, but instead back in the safe house with Bethany. A small silver platter of blueberries, cherries, dried plums and strawberries lay in his lap.
“You don’t have to go in for this checkup if you don’t want to. We have access to our own medical units—some of them better than anything you’ll find at a Federal facility.”
“No, I’m fine. Daydreaming, I guess.”
David swore sparks lit up Bethany’s eyes. “Oh really? What about?”
“I’m not quite sure. I think my memory might be starting to come back. I was in a kitchen with my wife and kids. It was sunny and the tree in the yard was—"
“Yard? You must have been dreaming. So, are you still ready to do this?”
“Do what?”
“Your checkup? …Well, and to upload the Trojan too—but that won’t require any actual work on your part.”
“Isn’t it a little soon to be going back? They’re going to expect me to have some kind of malfunction if I’m back so soon, won’t they?”
“It’s been a week, David. Federal Regulations require you go back for your checkup after a week.”
The last memory David had was the cracking sound of his forehead smacking the wall while the NanoSwarm attacked his brain. Still, no lingering discomfort pained his head, and looking at his reflection staring back from the silver of the fruit platter, he could see only a few faint yellow remainders where the bruise would have been.
“Yeah, I’m ready. Let’s do this.”
TWENTY
LET THE MEMORY
LIVE AGAIN
“We only received one uplink while you were gone, David. Is there some issue we should be made aware of?” The woman, Juliet, wore the same blue lab gear she wore the first time he saw her. David missed the sunny dress.
“I’m not quite sure, to be honest. Things have been a little cloudy while I’ve been gone. I can’t remember all the time I’ve been absent. Then again, I’ve been knocked unconscious more often than I can count in the last few weeks—so I’m sure that might have something to do with it. You might want to check for me, while you’re in there.”
“According to your last uplink, you’re carrying a virus in your mind. Is that correct?”
David rubbed the wireless device implanted in the base of his skull. “That uplink of yours really works, doesn’t it.”
“Of course, it does,” she said, as she tapped at her touchscreen. “Why would we risk such a procedure if it wouldn’t?”
David shrugged. “What else have you learned?”
“We’ve learned everything you’ve learned, of course. We’ve learned about the safe house, and about Bethany. We couldn’t track the location of the safe house, of course, since they certainly would have detected the trace. Besides a place like that is surely protected by GeoScramblers.”
“So you haven’t learned much of anything then?”
“I didn’t say we haven’t learned anything. We were able to find a match to Bethany in the Federal records. Her real name is Samantha Helkamp, and the woman you’ve met, Bethany, as she calls herself, has undergone major cosmetic surgery. The only way we were able to track her down in the system was through an ocular scan. Thank you for looking her in the eye when you spoke to her, by the way. Try to do that more often—it’s a tremendous help.”
David hadn’t realized that he looked her in the eye, but made a mental note to do so in the future.
“And even though we couldn’t track it, we’re fairly certain we’ve discovered the location of the Safe House. Samantha Helkamp still has a house registered in her name over on Wozniak and we’ve had eyes on it since Sunday.”
“So, what’s next? When do you attack?”
“We won’t be attacking, David. From what we’ve learned, the safe house is merely a temporary shelter. People come and go, and even though sometimes those people include Calvin Simon, a small hit like that would do little to stop this so-called Cause. What we’re looking to do is to take out their main base of operation, and so far, you have not been taken there, nor been informed of its location. So, for now, we continue as usual.”
“How do you know they’ll ever take me there?” David asked.
“We don’t,” the woman looked up from her touchpad and directly at David. “But so far our hypotheses have been correct. Calvin trusts you. A big point in your favor, and a big point in favor of this entire operation. If you can determine the location, or if you can find out when and where they plan to attack next, we’ll be able to deal them a potentially lethal blow.”
David thought about this, and about the people he met recently. None of them seemed to be particularly evil, although every time he thought of the train station bombing, he remembered what they were capable of. Still, even though their methods were despicable, he couldn’t help but think they had reason for what they were doing.
“My memories, I think they’re starting to come back,” he said.
“That’s wonderful news, David! What can you remember?”
“I remember a house, a wife, and two children. I remember having a family.”
The excitement on the woman’s face shrank as her smile turned to a frown. “I’m sorry, David. I don’t know how to tell you this … but we’ve had some luck here as well, restoring your old memory files.”
“That’s nothing to be sorry about. Sounds like great news!”
“Well yes, it is. But even though we haven’t rebuilt much of the file system, there’s been no mention of a family. What else can you tell me? When do the memories come? Are there any other details you can recall?”
“Well, now that you mention it, the memories only seem to resurface when I’m dreaming. But they’re the same memories each time—or at least they take place in the same time and setting. In the latest one I was eating breakfast with my family, and I just got over a head injury, so everything was a bit fuzzy.”
“A head injury. Like your real life,” she interjected.
“Yes, although these take place in a very different time and place. It seems to be back on the mainland; there are trees in the yar
d, for example.”
“This is quite odd, David, but it does confirm that some concerns we’ve had are viable.”
“What concerns?”
She hesitated, looking around the room. Her eyes paused on each of the four security cameras. “You mentioned gaps in your memory, even since the restoration. We’re seeing them as well—and they all seem to occur while you’re sleeping.”
“Well that makes sense though, doesn’t it? If I’m sleeping, there’s nothing to record.”
“Not exactly true, David. As you fall asleep, your brain does tend to shut down somewhat, but once someone enters R.E.M. sleep and starts to dream, their mind is quite active. For many individuals, a dreaming state is nearly indistinguishable from a waking state—and in some instances can be even more vivid and realistic than waking life.”
“You’re telling me I don’t dream? I know I have dreams. I just told you about them.”
“What I’m saying is we don’t see your dreams. When you are sleeping, it’s like your brain is shut down. When we first analyzed your files our systems thought you had actually died, David, but we knew that couldn’t be right, since you can’t upload after you’re dead; the uploads operate as a subroutine of your regular brain function—it’s why you can’t upload when you’re sleeping either. The trigger has to be set consciously, otherwise if you were compromised, or were suspected of spying, The Cause could start sending in a string of keywords to your subconscious just to crack your system and see if they can trigger an upload.”
“Then what happens when I dream? Is there something wrong with me?”
“We have some theories, but nothing concrete. Rest assured we’re working on it. Now if you could lay back on the bed, we’ll do that routine checkup.”
“Don’t you need to delete the Trojan?”
“No, we’re going to let it in… but we’re going to be selective about what information it relays, and which bits of information we let out are true and which are false.”
David eased back onto the bed and closed his eyes. Within a few minutes the I/O port began to hum, and a gentle warmth spread through the base of his skull. Once again, David’s world faded to black.
TWENTY-ONE
SPY GAME
“—that's unfortunately the way things are now. You're going to have to find yourself a new path from here.”
David's grip on the phone tightened, the involuntary contraction of his arm muscles slipping the handset down his sweaty cheek. He pulled the phone back to his ear and cleared his throat, his mind swimming.
“I—I don't understand. Who is this?” David asked.
“David, I said I was sorry for this, so please don't shut down on me. We're going to have to close the whole firm down—there isn't enough demand anymore with the way the economy is. You're not alone.”
David squeezed his eyes shut and focused on the voice on the other end of the line.
“I understand, Fred,” he said, but the line was already dead.
----
“Welcome back, David.”
David's eyes shot open and he was greeted with the sight of Juliet. The warmth of his I/O port faded, replaced by a small release of pressure at the base of his skull as the port hissed, disengaging his cortex from the input mechanism.
“What happened? Are you done already?”
The woman nodded. “At this point we're only running deltas to grab anything new. The comparator function is quite efficient, especially given the high-speed data transfers we can achieve on a hard link; but in order to keep costs down we only fetch new data. You would have been out even sooner if we didn't have to allow extra time to ensure the upload of that Trojan you were carrying.”
“It's in then?”
“Of course, but we'll keep it isolated. We have a mirror environment set up for this kind of thing. It'll share information, but only some things. Obviously our highly-classified files won't even exist there.”
“What do I do now?”
“Why, you return to Calvin, of course.”
David rose from the I/O chair and stretched, rubbing the spot where the transfer cable had recently been inserted. His finger caught on a snarl of hair.
“So that's it? Business as usual?” He continued to work the snarl loose. “I'm happy to help and all—but ...”
“But what, David? We restored you to life. I don't believe we're asking too much in return for what we've done for you.”
“No—no, that's not it. I guess I hoped you'd have a little more information for me about who I am. If what you've said is true, and the memories or visions or experiences or ... whatever is in my head isn't real, then I would love to find out what's missing. Or better yet, where these hallucinations are coming from.”
“As I said, David, we're working on it. We've recovered some information, but a neural reconstruction like this isn't as easy as you might think. We're starting to build a picture of who you are, or rather, were ... but to share that information with you in such a fragmented state could be potentially fatal to your already damaged network.” She paused, biting her lip surreptitiously. “I'm sorry. I can't divulge anything to you yet. You're too important.”
“Important? For you and your spy game?”
“David, trust me.” She motioned to the door. “You'll learn more soon. I promise.”
---
The walk from the medical center back to the train station gave David time to ponder what Juliet said. In his mind, he knew who he was, even if he couldn’t put it into words. He could sense his intuition and the direction of his moral compass. He had no doubt about the kind of person he'd be in a tough situation. His soul, the thing that defined him, was clear. What he couldn't figure out was who he was previously. Who he had been. His past remained clouded and any attempt to try to bring the memories forward, back from whatever dark corner they hunkered down in, was met with nothing but failed frustration.
The most significant nagging point in all of this was the discomforting thought he might have been wrong about himself. Deep in the thick marrow of his bones it seemed unquestionable that he was a virtuous person and that his recent decisions matched this theory. Still, doubt tugged the tendrils of his mind. Perhaps he wasn't as virtuous as his limited conscience let on.
After a fifteen-minute walk, David entered the door of the small apartment the Reconstruction set up for him following his initial stay at the medical center. The 500-square-foot unit didn't provide a lot of space, but it was suitable enough. At only five minutes from the city center, he was able to quickly travel to the places he needed to—which in most instances had been Beverly's home / headquarters. In fact, he couldn't recall a single night in the bed tucked in the corner of the room, only a few stops to grab a quick bite or take a quick rest on the couch. The sheets were still crisply made, aside from the occasional wrinkle where he had taken a temporary seat.
The biggest inconvenience of the space, to David at least, was the position it held within the building. Considering ground level of the city only managed to take up about ten square miles, travel time from one end to the other was quite minimal. But, since Plasticity's ground level was well below the widest space of the sphere in which it was situated, vertical space was the more highly prized commodity.
All the way up on the 102nd floor, David was afforded a rather spectacular view of the ocean and its receding horizon. The problem was, David didn't care a single iota about the view—he was more concerned with the ridiculously long elevator ride from the ground floor up to his apartment. Traveling across Plasticity was a breeze—traveling up and down much less so.
----
David had no sooner laid down to rest, when an incessant buzzing began to ring in his ears. He lifted his head from his pillow, confused, and realized someone was at the door.
The man at the door stood short, no more than five feet tall, and was wearing a finely tailored suit. His dark hair was slicked back, and a pair of wire-rimmed glasses perched daintily on his nose.
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“Your presence, sir,” the man said in a high pitched, nasally voice, “is requested downtown.”
“Where? I already am downtown.”
The man contemplated David, scrunching his face around his nose. He blinked twice, in rapid succession and paused, taking David in, as if judging him.
“Bethany wants to see you.”
He turned and walked away. David grabbed his coat and followed, locking the apartment door behind him.
TWENTY-TWO
VIA CHICAGO
“David, my boy!” The grip of Calvin’s meaty hand clasped on David’s shoulder was so tight David could feel Calvin’s rough callouses through his shirt. “You’ve done fine work!”
“Hear, hear!” chimed in Bethany, handing David a bubbling crystal flute filled with champagne. “A toast, to success!”
They clinked glasses and took a drink.
“So … I take it your thing is working?”
“Is it working?” Bethany clasped her hands to her chest and beamed. “The data we’ve gotten already is better than anything we could have imagined!”
“That’s great news!” David turned to Calvin. “Have you gotten a lot?”
“Well, here’s the thing, David,” Calvin answered. “It’s working perfectly, and the data is gold, but there’s not much of it.”
David shifted his regard to Bethany, then back to Calvin. “Did … did something go wrong then?”
“No, nothing’s wrong! It’s all working like it should—but it’s going to be a slow process. You see, we’re inside their network, which is great—but we need to pull data out of the network—which means downstream bandwidth.”
“And with bandwidth, comes visibility,” continued Bethany. “For this to work, we have to remain invisible. That means hijacking packets already being sent, or at least disguising our outgoing data as innocuous bits of boring information.”
“Which is where Sage comes to the rescue, again,” Calvin interjected. “The best way to hide anything outgoing is to send it where it would normally be going … and not a lot of data goes out from that level of the network. And the limited amount that does go out, only goes to secure nodes.”
The Unfortunate Expiration of Mr David S Sparks Page 9