The Astral Hacker (Cryptopunk Revolution Book 1)

by Brian Terenna

  Blaze ducks, but the bullets ricochet off a transparent bulletproof wall I previously constructed. One bullet strikes a soldier, and he stumbles back in shock, then falls from the roof.

  “Just a little something I set up in case we needed it,” I say.

  The other soldiers’ wide eyes narrow to anger.

  “Good call,” says Blaze, “but what now?”

  “Just relax and enjoy the show.”

  The enemies creep toward us, looking side to side, but speed up as they gain confidence.

  “Watch this, Sunny,” I say.

  “What?” asks Blaze.

  “Nothing. It’s someone in the real world.” I pull out a small device and press a button.

  A series of directed explosions erupt around the attackers, blowing a square hole in the roof. Flames burn the howling soldiers as they drop to the ground below. Three lay dead. The others have about half their lives remaining.

  Blaze gapes at the hole in the roof as the smoke clears, then she breaks out into a big smile. “Wow, genius! Let’s finish them.” She raises her gun.

  I push down on the barrel. “Just watch.”

  She tilts her head at me, her brow furrowed.

  I point down through the lingering smoke. “The explosion wasn’t meant to kill them.”

  I press the second button on my device.

  Four doors around the room burst open, and a horde of gruesome zombies surge toward the stunned troops. The troops scramble backward, bumping into each other in their panic. Several fall to the ground. The others push back and trample on their guildmates as they raise their rifles.

  The mass of zombies engulfs the group, biting and tearing the soldiers apart. Our enemies’ life-bars drain from red to black, and their bodies blink out of existence.

  After the last of the DarkTraders vanish, the zombies snap their heads toward us. The holograms look so realistic that their feral eyes and disgusting faces turn my stomach. I can’t even imagine what it would be like to fight zombies in real life.

  “Let’s go,” I say, then glance at the ladder on the opposite side of the gaping hole. Oops.

  “Good thing I brought my grappling hook,” says Blaze.

  We rappel down the building’s side and sprint toward the enemy headquarters and the rest of our group.

  “TigerShadow, we’re on our way,” I say. “Hold tight.”

  “Yes, Commander.”

  Blaze and I reach the others. There are twelve of us versus twenty enemies guarding the flag.

  “Everyone but Blaze, get your infrared blankets ready,” I say. “As soon as I tell you, activate them and your heat dummy.”

  “But commander, we can take them,” says Dragonfly. “We’re only down two to one.”

  I shake my head, suppressing a grin. Every time. “Trust me.”

  A group of their troops surges forward as red dots on my radar.

  “Now,” I say.

  My guild activates their infrared blankets and dummy drones nearly simultaneously. The blankets hide my guildmates, and the drones mimic their heat signatures.

  I motion for Blaze and take off in a sprint. The drones, preprogrammed to follow, zip after me.

  “Be quick,” I say. “If they see that our people aren’t really with us, this won’t work.”

  Fifteen red blips split off to follow us. We take off in a full sprint and speed down streets and through alleyways.

  “TigerShadow, hold until I order the attack,” I say. “I’m going to lead them far enough away so they can’t get back in time.”

  “Good plan, Commander,” he says. “It will be ten on five. We’re going to thrash them.”

  “Commander,” says Scorpion, “two of them fell for the proximity mines. We’re delaying the others, but we can’t hold them for long.”

  “Just a little more time,” I say. “Give me a warning if it gets dire.”

  We dash around another corner just before they’d discover the ruse. Almost there…

  “Maverick is down! I can’t hold,” says Scorpion.

  “TigerShadow, attack,” I say.

  The thinnest threads hold my plan together. Just one tug in the wrong direction will unravel it. But you have to be bold when the odds are stacked against you.

  Ten blue dots, representing my people, pop into existence near the enemy base and move in on the five red dots.

  Now you pay. “Scorpion, defend our flag for another twenty seconds.”

  “I’ll make it work, Commander.”

  The troops that were chasing me recognize their mistake and turn back to the base.

  I laugh. “Too late.”

  “You dare to rival Commander StarFeather?” shouts Blaze.

  A few moments pass and TigerShadow says, “These noobs had no chance. I have their flag.”

  The words ‘Congratulations, you have won the tournament’ appear before us. ‘You’ve been promoted, and your champion’s gifts will appear in your inventory.’

  My com explodes in cheers.

  “FreedomFire! Best guild ever,” says Maverick.

  “And you wanted to fight one on two, Dragonfly,” says TinMan.

  “At least I killed two of them instead of hiding behind a wall,” Dragonfly retorts.

  “Guys, guys,” says TigerShadow. “Watch this replay of me disarming this noob and shooting him with his gun.”

  “Well done, Fae,” says Sunny. “Your strategies were very intelligent, as always.”

  I turn and nod to him with a smile.

  Blaze steps up, and her avatar hugs me. “You thrashed them!”

  “We never would’ve made it to the championship if you weren’t looking out for me,” I say as I pull back, embarrassed about the hug even though it’s just a game.

  “We made it here thanks to your brilliant plans.”

  I love the praise. I’ve felt like a mouse my whole life, but in-game, I’m an owl, fierce and wise.

  Everyone logs out until it’s just Blaze and me. It’s not her real name, but it’s how I know her. I’ve always been able to count on her, and I’ve always admired her kindness and companionship.

  Blaze looks me up and down and smirks. “I’ve been meaning to ask you, is any of this you?” she asks, indicating my avatar. “It fits, but I have a hard time believing anyone could be this smart and this shapely.”

  I feel my face flush. She’s right. I’m nothing like my avatar.

  Her full-lipped smile fades into something more serious. “So…did you decide if you were going to help me?” she asks, sounding hopeful.

  I look away. I hate the world where I don’t help her, but I can’t stop picturing the horror of my last hack. I shiver. “I’m…I need more time.”

  “There are only a couple of days left.”

  “I looked at the specs in the file you sent. I won’t need more than a half-hour.”

  Blaze squints at me. “Yite.”

  I know that’s fast, but surely not for her. “Forty-five minutes?” I ask, not wanting to offend her.

  “I know you’re good, so I won’t doubt you, but this is really important.”

  I bite my lip and remember how she befriended me and supported me when I joined FreedomFire. I want to say, I’ll do it, but… “I’ll let you know on the last day.”

  She grimaces. “I’ll talk to you then. See you in-game later?”

  “Of course,” I say and log out. I sigh, but rather than try to figure this out, I decide to program my blockchain.

  I slip on my q-link, never feeling whole without it, and begin to code.

  After a while, I grin as the framework becomes more developed. I decide to take a break and drop down on the bed next to Sunny. His mechanical and electrical parts bounce around.

  “You know that makes it difficult,” he says.

  “Sorry. What are you building?”

  Sunny looks down at his new contraption. “My robot is now a sonic nauseator.”

  “A what?”

  “It’s somet
hing I can activate to make humans sick and dizzy if Barbra attacks us again.”

  “Wow. That sounds useful.”

  He nods and puts the other parts into his bag.

  I grab my steel water bottle and jump off the bed. My door has a plywood patch in the middle now and a new door latch that I unlock.

  Barbra stands in the kitchen, wearing a summer dress with blue butterflies spiraling up its surface. The bags under her eyes are gone, her hair is neatly combed, and her makeup is perfect. “Morning, Sweetheart.” She opens her arms to hug me, then pulls back as if afraid of startling me.

  “It’s okay.”

  She breaks into a relieved smile and gives me a squeeze. “Breakfast is ready, and I’m looking forward to playing Strife later.”

  The US revolution game is her favorite. I can never bring myself to beat her. “Me too.”

  I fill my water bottle and gulp down the cool liquid.

  The news plays in the background.

  “On a happier note, Esmond Benton-Fields, multibillionaire and philanthropist, has donated a hundred million digital dollars to early education initiatives. For those unfamiliar with him, he is the grandson of the ex-CEO of Limitless Corporation, the huge conglomerate that was split into six companies during the monopoly purge of 2042.”

  Barbra shakes her head as she sips her orange juice. “He’ll never make up for what his family did. That’s blood money.”

  “What did they do?”

  She shakes her head with a sigh. “They melded with the government and banks to form one big authoritarian regime. That shadow government was responsible for millions of deaths.”

  Diablo.

  “The unemployment rate for people without the Evo, commonly known as norms, is at a ten year high,” says the newscaster. “We’ll get to that after these advertisements…”

  “Nutrihealth Incorporated, bringing you superior modified foods to improve your life. Why eat boring regular potatoes when you could have the hero potato. Better taste, better nutrition…”

  I roll my eyes and dip my organic waffle in natural maple syrup. The sweet, warm treat touches my tongue, making the day a little nicer.

  After we’re done with breakfast, I turn toward my room to code some more.

  Barbra stops me with a hand on my shoulder. “Take an apple in case you get hungry before lunch.”

  The gift warms me. “Thanks.”

  I sit and code, melting into the comfortable, familiar state. After a couple of hours, the cryptocurrency native to my foster care blockchain takes shape. It won’t be long now. I stand and stretch my back that’s sore from sitting.

  “Don’t worry,” says Barbra from inside her bedroom. “I’ll take care of you. You’re going to be okay.”

  “Who is she talking to? The worst possibilities flash in my mind. I hold my hand up for Sunny to stay, then sneak out to the living room to investigate. The last time I eavesdropped on a foster parent, the bloated demon smacked me in the face. It took me off my feet, and I still remember the feel of my head cracking into the tile floor. Barbra is different, though.

  “Hold on. I need medical supplies. I can save you, Fae. He won’t get you.”

  Fae? What is she talking about? I dart behind the couch as she exits her room.

  She’s in a bathrobe. Her hair is a wild mess, and her lipstick is smeared. She meanders through the kitchen, pausing here and there as if studying nonexistent things. She stumbles through the door into the storage room.

  Even when she had the flu, she wasn’t this disheveled. I inch over to her room, knowing I need to be quick but unable to make myself do it. I peek inside.

  There’s no one there except for the wounded soldier in one of her paintings and the pewter figurines of revolutionary heroes on her dresser.

  I move toward her tall bed, my stomach burning with anxiety. There’s no reason to think anything will be on the other side, but I can’t shake the feeling that there is. It’s probably because of the time my fourth foster demon made me dispose of a dead rat from his bedroom.

  I summon my courage and look behind the bed.

  A humanoid support robot lies on the ground, half disassembled. Dirty tools and parts are strewn about on the carpet.

  My eyes widen, and my heart sinks. She thought this was me? That she was saving me? I drop to my knees, and the world falls apart, bile creeping up my throat. The medication isn’t working. It’s happening again.

  ☼☼☼

  I pace around in the cold white hospital room.

  Barbra sits along the wall, now stabilized after more medication. “Fae, come sit.”

  I pause, then sit next to her in one of the plastic chairs. She takes my hand in hers. It’s warm and smooth, and I barely flinch.

  A tall female doctor enters the room, a clipboard in her hand. “Hello, Fae, Barbra. I’m Dr. Volker. “I’m so sorry to hear about your relapse. It’s rare on Trioxidine, especially since you have no family history of mental illness. We’re increasing your dose and putting you on the booster Statrenadol.”

  “What are the chances of any other problems,” asks Barbra.

  “Bioplex makes some excellent schizophrenia drugs. This combination is almost a hundred percent effective at eliminating hallucinations, paranoia, and other symptoms associated with schizophrenia.”

  Sounds promising.

  “Navin help me, I hope you’re right,” says Barbra. “Are there any new side effects?”

  “Minimal. You may experience headaches or dry mouth, but those are rare.”

  “No hand tremors or anything, right?”

  “No. With the older medications that was possible but not with these,” says the doctor.

  “Oh, good. I’m so close to finishing my best painting ever.” After a pause, Barbra adds, “Why do you think I relapsed?”

  “It occasionally happens on the introductory dose,” says Dr. Volker, “but you shouldn’t have to worry about that again.”

  I rub my arm. I want to say something but rarely talk to people I don’t know. I force myself to say, “She had a bad flu before it first happened. Do you think it could be related?”

  The tall woman shakes her head, then presses her knuckles into her lips. “Hmm. Encephalitis can cause hallucinations, but she’d either be better or dead by this point. There wouldn’t be lasting effects. So, no, I don’t think it’s related.”

  I nod, my mop of curls bouncing.

  We leave the hospital and call for a ride back. When the autonomous car arrives, we sit in the back seat.

  “Fae, I want to talk to you about something,” says Barbra. First, I’m so sorry for all I’ve put you through.”

  “It’s fine. I was just concerned about you.” And myself, but there’s no need to say that. When I saw the dismantled robot that she thought was me, chills ran through my body. Somehow, it made it even worse that the parts were dirtying the carpet she always keeps clean.

  It took everything I had not to unravel as I failed to remember how to help someone with schizophrenia. At least I managed to get her to the hospital.

  “It’s terrifying to feel like you’re losing your mind,” says Barbra. “But there’s nothing worse than seeing him and that symbol.”

  “Who?”

  “Oh…no one.” She gazes at passing cars for a moment and then back to me. “After this most recent scare, I realized what’s most important in life. It’s family. In light of this, I…I wanted to propose something to you.”

  My stomach sinks at the unease in her voice.

  “I know that you’ve been through a lot. Six foster homes in ten years will do a number on anyone.”

  Oh hell. Is she getting rid of me because of her health? I pull at my shirt. Although I’ve had doubts about her since the schizophrenia, I don’t want to lose her. I couldn’t bear to be thrown into another hell. Maybe I can say something to convince her. But what? I squeeze my wrist. Think.

  “I’ve decided that—”

  “I…” I have no
idea what to say. I sit there dumbly for a second, then mumble, “Never mind.” That’s it then. Cast down into the next level. I slouch in my seat as I wait for the inevitable hammer to crush me.

  “Fae,” she says. “I think you’re special, and you need someone worthy to take care of you.”

  I swallow and look down.

  “I’ve had some problems, but I know they’ll get worked out, and I think I can be that person for you.”

  “What?”

  “I want to adopt you as my daughter.” She holds up her hands. “Before you say anything, I understand you’re seventeen and almost an adult, but I want you to still have me as family when you move out.”

  My eyes widen, and my mind begins to race with the possibility. No one has wanted me since my mother died. We’ve only known each other for six months, but I feel a secure connection. Finally, I can have a mother again.

  “I know that you’re cautious and that my recent episodes probably make this more difficult, but please think about it.”

  My elation falls back to earth. She’s right. The schizophrenia does concern me, but the doctor seemed sure she’d be fine this time. I know I shouldn’t trust people, but I want to be normal and have someone love me.

  But what if she breaks? I picture a knife slashing my throat while I’m in bed. “I…”

  “Think about it. We don’t have to talk now.” She hugs me.

  It’s the least uncomfortable hug yet.

  We drive in silence while I think about what the doctor said. Even though she said it couldn’t be encephalitis, I decide to look it up.

  A related news article catches my eye. ‘Hallucinating Woman climbs a flagpole to get treasures in the sky.’

  I shiver as I remember Barbra’s hallucinations. I open it up.

  An ad pops up that shows a small flying griffin zipping around a teenage boy.

  “Drone pets are the best pets,” says a narrator. “Bring home one of twenty adorable pets, from birds to mystical creatures. Play with them as long as you want since their solar panels allow them to fly indefinitely.”

  Barbra glances at me. I skip the rest of the ad.

  I read the news story rather than watching the video so I don’t upset her.

  ‘Sandra Clark, a Stroudsburg woman suffering from hallucinations, had to be rescued by firefighters from the top of the flagpole at the courthouse building today. She was reportedly trying to get her diamonds in the sky. She was taken to the local hospital, where she was treated for hallucinations and a bad flu. She was later diagnosed with schizophrenia and is receiving care.’