Stolen Future

by Cameron Coral

  “Does everyone do this?”

  “No. It's a significant investment, so most people—poor folks, middle-income people—can't really afford it or can only upload small chunks.”

  “Memory storage is for the rich,” I said slowly.

  “The elites and corps. Anyone can go buy EarthShine or the Brain Flash glasses like you did and record their experiences, but storage fees are the really important thing, and it’s costly to retain memory space over time. A hundred years ago, people saved a ton of money to buy a house or send their kids to college. Nowadays, you save a fortune so you can record your memories and upload them for posterity.”

  “Okay. What’s a dark drop site?”

  “I’m getting there.” He cast a sly glance my way. “Some people—usually rich elites or tech-savvy corps like your friend Newt—know you can find memory storage sites offline on the dark net.”

  “The dark net?”

  “Yeah, where your friendly, neighborhood cybercriminals hang out. The media would have you believe—”

  “No time.” The faraway look in his eyes told me this was going nowhere good. “I don't need another rant about the media. What can you tell me about Newt? Where is he? How do I find him?”

  “Right. Okay, focus. So, I did a lot of digging, and I had to call in a favor with someone I'd rather not be indebted to…” His Adam’s apple bobbed with anxiety. “But I found Newt’s dark memory files.”

  “Show me.”

  “I had just started watching when you woke up, so I can't say for sure what's on them. I’ll warn you, it could be graphic. People who offload to the dark net are usually trying to hide bad things.”

  “I’m a grown-up. I can handle it.”

  “Okay. Let's have you see what our man, Newt has going on.” Ryken handed me a strange apparatus. “Put this on.”

  “What’s this?” The black and dark gray hardware looked like earphones, but there was a covering that hung over the forehead and an opaque visor shielded the face. “A half-helmet?”

  “That is how you can experience Newt’s memories.”

  “Can’t you just pull it up on your computer screen?”

  “It doesn't work that way.” He chuckled and rocked back on his chair. “This is how you get in.”

  I pulled the strange helmet onto my head, and darkness surrounded me as the visor stretched over my face and blocked out sound. “Play it.”

  Something changed after a second, and inside the helmet, I was seeing through Newt’s eyes. He was seated at a dim bar somewhere with peanut shells on the floor and a beer on the counter. A fan spun lazily overhead, and I could actually feel the breeze rustle his short, dark hair. Newt checked his watch, and his forearm was covered in freckles. He took a sip of the beer, which tasted like bitter oranges, and the bartender—a woman with curly red hair—smiled at him. His heart rate sped up, and it was as if the sensation rocked my own chest.

  I pushed the visor off my face and stared down at Ryken. “This is weird. Not only am I experiencing his day, but I’m feeling some of his sensations. Some of his emotions.”

  Ryken smiled. “That’s part of the high people get when they use these things. That’s why it costs so much.”

  “Is there a way to speed it up and get to another part?”

  “Why?” Ryken’s forehead wrinkled in concern. “What's he doing?”

  “He's at a bar,” I said with a sigh. “Looks like he's just blowing off steam after work.”

  Ryken scowled. “Just be patient. Where else do you have to be?”

  “Fine.” I slid the visor back on and continued watching as Newt flirted with the redhead and downed another beer before leaving. With a sloshy full stomach, he/I strode down an avenue several streets and purchased two boxes of chow from a vendor. I recognized the street before he had even reached Terry's building. Up the stairs we went, and she greeted him. He kissed her on the cheek. Binksley barked. They sat down to eat.

  Then—and this is the interesting part—there was a knock at the front door. It was Drive Nine. Newt led it through the hallway toward the familiar bedroom, unlocking the door with a key and closing it quickly to block Terry out. There was a human-sized lump on the bed. Me—lying on my back, eyes closed, hooked up to machines, with tangled brown hair that needed washing.

  “Any change in her vital signs today?” Newt asked.

  Drive Nine shook its head. “None.”

  Newt sat on a chair next to my bed. He pulled back the blanket to reveal my arm and checked the IV hooked into my skin. Then he pulled out a vial of a green liquid from his pocket and inserted it into the bag’s injection port. Whatever the fluid was floated into my system—painkillers, sedatives, more cyborg juice, who knew?

  Something beeped in Newt's pocket, prompting him to pull out a small, circular comm device. A new message alert flashed.

  NinjaRabbit19: The swallows are roosting. We need to meet.

  Newt: I’m in.

  Then a few seconds later,

  NinjaRabbit19: 36 Westerly Rd. 4th floor.

  Newt: On my way.

  Newt pocketed the device, then looked at Drive Nine. “I have to go.”

  “Is it…?”

  Newt nodded and chewed his bottom lip.

  “I should go with you,” the robot said.

  “No.” Newt raised his hand, and a twinge of annoyance rippled through me/him. Suspicion?

  “I can handle this on my own. You should stay with her.” Newt glanced back at me lying unconscious on the bed, then continued, “If something goes wrong, I won't be back. I can't risk exposing Terry. Exposing you. And I sure as hell can't lead them back to CGU One.”

  “And what then?” Drive Nine asked, and then in a barely audible voice, “If you don’t return…”

  “Carry on with our mission. Keep her hidden. Move her if you have to. Do your best to keep Terry safe as well. The less she knows, the better.”

  Drive Nine nodded.

  Newt left the apartment quickly, ignored Terry's questions about where he was going and when he’d return. He said goodbye and held onto her for a long time. “I love you,” he whispered before leaving, and a heavy sensation weighed in my/our chest. After hailing a taxi pod, he gave the address, and in twenty minutes, we were dropped off in an industrial zone with empty streets and few vehicles. He crossed the street and came upon a large warehouse with a sign that read PROTORobotic. Several windows were boarded up; graffiti decorated the polymer façade.

  Newt entered the warehouse through a gap in the front entrance. He ascended four flights of stairs—we were winded from the climb—and entered a dusty, open room with high ceilings and multi-colored windowpanes that were green, purple, and orange. Many panes had been knocked out, and a light wind rustled through and brushed against my face. I wished I could have reached up and scratched Newt’s chin; it itched like hell, but I barely remembered that I wasn’t him.

  I was a passenger in his memory, and he was nervous about whoever NinjaRabbit19 was. He had stuffed his sweaty hands in his pockets and ground his teeth.

  A person stood on the far side of the room, facing away and gazing out a long rectangular purple window that was still intact. The sun’s glare cast long shadows, and I couldn't make out the waiting figure.

  Newt’s heart was really racing now. I sure hoped the guy didn’t go into cardiac arrest. Why was he so nervous? I knew I was about to learn something important.

  And then—if you can believe it—the feed cut out, and I was ejected from the memory.

  Twenty-Two

  Inside the helmet was nothing but darkness and a fizzing sound like an overflowing soda can. I yanked the device from my head and glared at Ryken. “What on Mars happened? It cut out suddenly. Did you do something?”

  “Hey,” he said, hands held up in surrender. “I didn't do anything. The feed cut out? That's odd. Let me take a look.” He scooted his chair forward and peered at the screen. I couldn't understand any of the symbols and code streaming in
his face.

  He touched his nose with his index finger—a habit I’d noticed whenever he figured something out. “I got it. There's an interruption in his memory stream.”

  “Can you translate that into English for me?”

  “Somehow, part of his memory was disrupted—snipped out.”

  “Why? How?” I wished Ryken would get to the point.

  “Someone cut out chunks of Newt’s memory—the part that you were about to see. In fact, this was recorded around the time of his disappearance from NeuroDyne, right? July 23rd?”

  “Yeah…” I remembered the serious way Newt had said goodbye to Terry and Drive Nine. “This must've been when he went into hiding or when something happened to him.”

  Ryken stood and paced. “Tell me what you saw.”

  “He went to Terry's apartment and checked on me, gave me some kind of medicine. He told— He acted like he wasn't going to come back because he might risk exposing me and putting us in danger. It was because he got a text from someone, NinjaRabbit19 was the weird code name. The message said to meet at an abandoned warehouse on 36 Westerly Rd. 4th floor. He went there, and we were about to meet NinjaRabbit when it cut out.”

  “You mean, you didn't get a good look?”

  “Not at all. The room was dark, and there were shadows. I couldn't even tell if the person was male or female.”

  Ryken chewed his thumbnail as he circled me.

  “Could Newt have wiped his own memory to cover where he went? Or did someone else do this?” I asked.

  “A good enough hacker could,” he said, looking distracted. “A memory stalker like me could manage it.”

  “You said there's only a few of you.”

  “Yeah, and I know them all… Unless there's someone new on the scene. Someone I haven't met.” He raised his palms and cupped his head. “The better question is why was that meeting erased? What is it they didn't want anyone to see?”

  A chill wound its way up my spine, and Ryken continued, “Maybe something happened to Newt. Maybe this NinjaRabbit killed him and wanted to erase the evidence.”

  My neck was stiff and my back sore as I folded my arms across my chest. “I’m not any closer to finding anything new. This tells me nothing.” I waved at his spread of computer hacking paraphernalia.

  “That's not true,” Ryken said with a grimace. “You have the address of the warehouse now—Newt's last known whereabouts, as far as we know. I'd say that's a pretty strong lead.”

  “Right.” I bellowed, throwing up my arms. “Only there’s a Scyther out there waiting on my ass.” The thought of the machine assassin raised my pulse. “Do you think that thing knows about Terry? Could it know I’ve been living with her?”

  Ryken stopped pacing and looked at me sideways, his scorn absent. “I don't know,” he said gently. “We have no idea what it knows about you.”

  All of a sudden, the closed-in basement room felt warm. Claustrophobic. “Terry could be in trouble. I need to go check on her. This is insane.”

  “But Diya, you said it yourself. The Scyther could be out there waiting. It's not safe for you to leave.”

  I stomped my foot. “So, what am I supposed to do? Wait here like a sitting duck while that thing cruises the streets? For all I know, it could be at Terry's apartment right now kicking in the door, trying to get information from her. Torturing her…killing her. And I left her.” I pointed hysterically at my chest. “I abandoned her.”

  “I thought she was the one protecting you.”

  I hung my head, deflated after my outburst. “She's blind,” I said, and that shut Ryken up. “She wouldn't even see him coming.” My clenched fist slammed into my palm. “Maybe I can fight it.”

  “What? Fight the Scyther? Are you insane? The thing is unstoppable.”

  “It put a bullet in me, and I lived. Whatever NeuroDyne did to me… It changed me, and I don't know. I don't really know yet what I'm capable of. But I'm a lot stronger and faster than I used to be.”

  His eyes lit up. “Used to be? So, your memories are coming back?”

  “I meant it as a figure of speech. I still have no clue who I was or even where I lived before this.”

  Ryken stifled a yawn, and I said, “You must be exhausted. You worked this whole time. Don’t you want to get some sleep?”

  But he crossed his arms and clenched his jaw. “Yeah, right, and let you sneak out of here while I’m sleeping. Not a chance.”

  I straightened and raised my chin. “You can't keep me here.”

  “Take it easy. I’m not trying to keep you here against your will. I just want you to think carefully and come up with a plan. Not rush out and be impulsive.”

  He had a point, but the clock was ticking and with every passing minute, I worried more about Terry. Leaving her behind had been reckless.

  “What then?” I challenged. “What brilliant plan do you have to offer, Ryken?”

  “We go check out the warehouse. Find out if there are any clues about this NinjaRabbit19 dude or what happened to Newt. Where he went. That's our strongest clue right now. I can give you a hat and glasses, different clothes. We’ll try to disguise ourselves, but mostly you.”

  “That's your brilliant plan? Put on costumes and head out to some unknown place?”

  “I’m trying to help you,” he said, squeezing his fist. “What else do you propose?”

  “I want to check on Terry first. Make sure the Scyther’s not there, then get her somewhere safe.” I looked around at our underground hideout. “Could I bring her here?”

  Ryken shrugged. “I–I mean, Kramer and I are tight, but it’s asking a lot…” He stared at me and gave me a pitying look like I was some lost puppy he’d found on the street. “Yeah, I'll see what I can do. I need to call him. Give me a minute.” He pulled his comms out of his pocket and punched in a code. “Hey, it's me. How was your night?” Then he walked through the small hallway and into Kramer's bedroom.

  I stared his way, checking that he didn’t return or peek out. As I grabbed my jacket, I checked that my things were there and tiptoed toward the door. There was no time to say goodbye, and he didn't believe I could actually fight the Scyther. Could I? The thing was insanely powerful, and I’d barely got away from Benny and his gang.

  But the thought of Terry out there with that monster tracking me and possibly finding her shook me to my core. I had to make sure she was okay.

  Leaving Ryken behind was my best option to travel faster. Plus, I wouldn't put him in any more danger.

  I gripped the door handle and turned it quietly, fingers crossed that there was no code or fingerprint required. It gave way, and I exhaled a sigh of relief. Ryken’s voice was muffled from inside the bedroom where he was asking Kramer for another favor.

  The door was ajar, and just as I began sliding out, a small box mounted on the wall above started beeping. A red light flashed. Dust maggots. I hurried out before Ryken could see and sprinted up the stairs, taking them two at a time.

  I knew the stubborn idiot would follow, and I had to get away before he did. All I wanted to do was find Terry alive. Take her somewhere safe. I could book one of those hotels in the Nest. I didn’t need Ryken’s help.

  At the top of the stairs, my stomach dropped as I realized I'd have to cross through the club again, but then I saw a side door that I hadn't noticed in my messed-up state earlier. A cracked sign above said, Exit.

  I was in luck.

  The exit led into an alley next to a couple of dumpsters. One side of the alley was shrouded in darkness, and the other side opened onto a street two hundred meters away. I started jogging that way, but then a man yelled, “Stop!” I thought it might be Ryken, so I kept going, but then something hit me from behind and I tripped and stumbled. The ground rushed up, and I landed on my hands and elbows.

  “I said, stop!” It was a man, and his voice was deep and rough. Not Ryken’s low, grainy tone. Something cold and circular rested against the back of my neck. The hairs on my arms stood on end
, and I didn't need to look around to know he held a gun on me.

  Ryken had been right after all.

  The Scyther had been waiting all along.

  Twenty-Three

  “I told you to stop. Look what you made me do.” I hadn’t expected the Scyther’s voice to sound so human. And so whiny.

  Still on the ground where I’d been tackled, I didn't dare move. Shooting me in the back was one thing, but the neck? I doubted I would survive a blast at such close range despite my enhancements.

  “Get up.”

  I slowly climbed to my feet.

  “Hands up.”

  My arms trembled as I turned. It wasn't the Scyther.

  Instead, a man two inches shorter than me with thinning black hair and a wavy tattoo on his cheek aimed a revolver in my face. He narrowed his eyes suspiciously when my shoulders loosened and I breathed a sigh of relief.

  “Where is he?”

  “Who?” I said, shaking my head.

  “Ryken!” What did he want with Ryken? I looked at him blankly.

  Then, from the club’s side door, came Ryken’s voice. “Jet, I'm right here. Let her go. She has nothing to do with this.”

  Jet shifted his feet and angled so he could see where Ryken had entered the alley, but still kept his gun trained on me.

  “This your new girlfriend, Ryken?”

  “No!” Ryken and I both answered at the same time.

  “Where's my money, rustbrain?” Jet asked.

  “It's coming. I swear.”

  “You keep telling me that,” Jet said with a snarl. “I ain't buying it no more. If I don’t leave with my money, your girlfriend's gray matter is gonna be splattered against the alley wall.”

  “Jet, come on. She has nothing to do with this.” Ryken’s voice was closer now, and shaky. “I don't even know her. I met her five minutes ago. She's just some club girl who’s leaving.”