by In Churl Yo
Milton had to agree. Of all the ideas and thoughts that were going through his head at that moment, none were doing him much good at all.
CHAPTER 8
Zoah and her new friend had been walking for the better part of an hour without a word between them since their hasty retreat from the crowd at the intramural parking lot. “I’m getting the sense you’re the strong, silent type,” Zoah said, mostly to break the quiet between them. Caleb continued on without responding.
From what she could tell, they seemed to be meandering around. She wasn’t used to wasting her time on useless pursuits. Wasting time is stealing from oneself, her father would say.
“It’s not that I’m ungrateful,” she continued. “I am totally grateful. But we need to stop and talk about Milton, and I need to know where we’re going. Now.”
Caleb had kept a steady pace. It helped him gauge distance and conserve energy, and Zoah had gotten used to the steady rhythm of his gait. When he suddenly stopped in front of her, it caught her by surprise.
He turned around and gazed back into the distance. “We were being followed,” Caleb said. “But looks like they gave up.” Zoah examined the road behind them but couldn’t see a thing.
“Tell me how you know Milton,” she said.
“First take off that ridiculous suit.”
“I will not! Maybe you’re not aware but there’s a malicious virus that’s extremely contagious, terribly elusive and oh, D-E-A-D, deadly floating around?”
“That’s why I have this,” said Caleb pointing to a mask dangling around his neck. “Besides, it isn’t here. The flu’s not around these parts.”
“You don’t know that. Sure, the way it pops back up every so often without any clear pattern means it might be dormant now, but we have no clue about its viral reservoir or what causes it to reactivate. Those people back there could have been infected.”
“They weren’t infected,” he countered. “They were hungry. And it’s been years since I saw the flu anywhere. Look at me.” Caleb took an exaggerated breath then gave her a look that said, See?
Zoah checked her suit’s readouts. The filter in her CO2 scrubber was going to have to be replaced soon anyway, and she had left her spares in the drone. Soon she wasn’t going to have a choice about whether to keep the suit on or not. The situation, in her estimation, was not ideal.
“The fact that you’re not dead yet doesn’t mean anything,” Zoah said. “But I am taking it under consideration.”
Caleb looked around and found a nearby bus stop bench on which to sit. He took off his pack and rummaged around inside of it. Zoah watched him from a distance and was shocked when she saw what he had retrieved. “That’s—is that chocolate?”
“Sure is,” he said. “Never had much of a taste for it, but for its size it has a good number of calories. I don’t suppose you want any?”
Zoah could see what he was doing, but she hadn’t eaten chocolate since her last birthday and was starting to get hungry. Diabolical, he was. She took a seat next to him on the bench then accessed the suit’s release controls. In a fluid motion the EVAC’s shell deflated, its soft, clear, rubberized helmet rising back over her face and falling onto her shoulders. Zoah sighed. She had already left her family and stolen a drone. Breathing the air seemed kind of trivial in comparison. Caleb saw the look on her face and smiled, handing the chocolate bar over. She took a bite, and the world instantly became a not-so-terrible place to be in.
“I’ve known Milton for a couple of years now,” Caleb said. “I tend to visit the less conventional chats when I go online. You may not know this, but he’s been making quite a stir in the underground community. Milton’s status has risen among the Kiter rank and file.”
“I don’t know what a Kiter is,” Zoah admitted.
“Kiters are self-proclaimed revolutionaries. They take their name from spiders that spin kites from their silk that allow them to fly. If the global network is a modern web of the old Internet, the Virt and the Ceres communication grid, then Kiters are spiders that don’t use them. Instead they just glide above it all, free to do whatever they feel is necessary.”
“And what’s necessary?”
“The truth. Freedom. Blah-de-blah…”
“So, I take it you’re not a Kiter then,” she said.
“No. Not really. I just work for them from time to time. This particular time I was supposed to meet Milton in that parking lot and provide escort duty, but he failed to mention anything about you.”
Zoah chewed on this and the chocolate for a few moments. “Escort him where?” she asked. Caleb smiled. Another mile and 35 floors later, Zoah had her answer.
They exited the stairwell, and her legs were positively burning. Those cross-training sessions in the Virt had nothing on this—125 vertical meters straight up felt like more stepping than she’d ever done ever on the elliptical. Caleb opened a nearby door, and Zoah looked inside exasperated. “More stairs?”
“Take a break here,” he replied. “In fact, why don’t you go check out the next room? It’ll be worth it. Be back in a sec.”
As she wandered over slowly while trying to catch her breath, the first thing that caught Zoah’s eye was the ornate ceiling—teak discs etched with depictions of Asian characters, birds and other animals, each handcrafted in earthen reds, yellows and blues. She followed the room around and the walls exploded in a colorful floral-pattern wallpaper. Set against a large window in the center of the room was a carved dark wood chair with twin Chinese dragon statues posed along each side. She took a seat in it and allowed the artistry of the scene around her to soak in.
“You might not want to do that,” a voice called out. Zoah followed the sound to a beautiful and striking dark-skinned woman in dreadlocks who entered the room with Caleb just behind her.
“I’m sorry,” said Zoah jumping up. “I didn’t mean to hurt anything.”
“Oh, it’s not that,” the woman said smiling. “They used to call that the Wishing Chair. Legend had it any single girl who sat in it would be married within a year, so I hope you’re okay with commitment.”
“Not hardly,” Zoah responded and gave the chair the stink eye.
“Everything you see here was a gift from the Empress of China, Cixi. They called this the Chinese Room, which was a little too on the nose if you ask me. Do you like it?”
“I love it. Absolutely amazing.”
“I had a similar reaction the first time I discovered this room,” the woman said. “Around your age as well.” She stood in front of Zoah and looked at her as if to size her up. “Caleb tells me this is your first time out in the real world, Miss Zoah Lightsea. You seem to be holding up well, all things considered. My name is Neema.”
“Nice to meet you,” Zoah said and waved politely.
“Have you been outside yet?” asked Caleb, pointing to a nearby glass door. They stepped onto the observation deck and watched the early-morning sun rise over the empty city. It seemed like a waste to Zoah, all that space. She had grown up in the confines of her family’s flat, some 700 square meters, and it seemed like plenty enough. Having the Virt helped, offering the illusion of wide-open spaces, but she could see now how artificial it all really was—how unnatural.
“We’re so high up,” said Zoah. “And you can see forever.”
“At one point this used to be the tallest building on the entire West Coast,” Neema said. “A pinnacle of man’s resourcefulness. Now it’s just another sad, empty husk in the skyline of a long dead city. But she’s mine now, and I love her.”
Zoah saw several large rain-collecting containers at the far end of the deck full of water, and on the other side, elevated soil beds filled with several robust fruit and vegetable plants at various stages of development. Neema truly had made this space her own.
“You live here?” Zoah asked.
Neema smiled. “No, not here.” When Zoah gave her a questioning look, the woman responded by pointing her finger upward. “Come, I’ll show y
ou.”
They ascended the stairs that Caleb had taken earlier—two flights that ended at the bottom floor of a unique two-story apartment. Its walls tilted at an angle, the entire penthouse lay inside a brick-lain pyramid atop the office tower. It had been the only residential space in the entire building.
“Your home is lovely,” Zoah said. “Did you do all this?”
“There was a family here before the flu. I believe the mother created this space. She was a dancer, I think,” Neema answered. “You ready for that coffee now, Caleb?”
“Oh, yes please,” he said.
“Zoah?”
“Uh, sure. Thank you. How do you have power up here? The rest of the city seems dead.”
“I modified a hydrogen cell from a captured drone. Self-contained and renewable. I’ve got all the comforts of home. Laser perimeters, infrared cameras, booby traps,” said Neema handing her a mug, then the woman turned to Caleb and gave him one as well. “So, you want to tell me now how it came to be that I send you off to bring Milton and you come instead with this young lady? No offense, dear.”
Zoah raised her hand to show Neema none was taken.
“Well, we could use your help with that,” said Caleb. “He never showed.”
“Huh. That would explain a few things,” Neema said. “Follow me.”
She led them to a converted bedroom and sat at a cobbled-together workstation—cannibalized processor components, drives and monitors. The system looked piecemeal, but from the user interface and speed, Zoah could tell it was fast and powerful. After a few keystrokes, Neema had a file up on the screen.
“I got this last night. No sender, no way to trace it,” she said.
Zoah stepped up and examined the data. “It’s incomplete. Was it corrupted?”
“You might think so at first glance,” said Neema, “but the logs confirm the transmission was complete. And the code is clean, no bugs. Now I’m assuming Milton sent this to me, but why would he send a file he knew I couldn’t open?”
“Well, he was being monitored,” said Caleb. “He said as much last time we spoke. Maybe he was in danger of getting caught? Maybe he got sloppy?”
“No way. Milton’s too good,” said Zoah.
“I agree with Zoah. Milton’s clever. This feels like something he would do. I think the file was sent this way on purpose,” suggested Neema. “If he couldn’t make it here for some reason, he would have left a way for us to figure it out together.”
“Look at this line here,” Zoah said. “This isn’t all just random letters and numbers. It’s a compiler. But the programming language—well, it’s like trying to put a puzzle together without all the pieces. Impossible.”
“Ah, then we’re screwed,” said Caleb.
“Perhaps not,” Neema offered. “Did Milton send anything to either of you? It would have to be something other than a simple text or e-mail.” The room went quiet as they all tried to remember.
Then Zoah’s eyes lit up. “Heelo! Milton programmed Heelo.” She reached inside her saddlebag and produced the toy drone that had been in sleep mode since they’d escaped the crowd attack. It awoke in her hands and gave them all a friendly beep. “Hey there. All rested up?”
Heelo whistled an affirmative.
“Listen, we need your help. This is Neema. Would you mind if she connected to your system? We need to access the files Milton uploaded to you.”
The drone flew out of her hands and landed on the desk. It eyed Neema as she produced a cable and hooked it into the appropriate side port. A few strokes on the keyboard, and they were in.
“This is it,” Neema announced and copied the files over to her desktop. Once she executed the file, it launched itself and a mirror application. Both went to work compiling the program into usable code, and, when that was finished, decrypted the data into recognizable files. “I’ve found a tracker embedded in the code here. Let me scrub the directory before we check these other files out...”
“There. That must be the Ceres data,” Zoah said. “Milton wanted me to analyze it for patterns or clues. See if I could figure out what was really going on.”
“You’re an analyst?” Neema asked.
“I’m a college student, but Milton thought I could do it. I’m good with patterns. It’s why I’m out here.” Caleb and Neema glanced at each other. “What, you don’t think I can?”
“If Milton says you can, you can,” said Caleb.
“There’s something else here—looks like an image file,” Neema said. “Let me render it.” The picture coalesced on the center monitor.
“Those are military-grade drones,” Caleb stated. “Nasty buggers.”
“The flag there and the text—Taiwan I think,” said Neema. She set to work accessing the global network and hacking into the East Asian grid.
“You’re a Kiter,” said Zoah.
“She’s the Kiter,” Caleb corrected. “You’re looking at Kiter Prime, numero uno, the big cheese.”
“Don’t call me that,” said Neema, still typing. “Uh-oh. Looks like Milton got himself caught. Probably missed that tracker. He’s being held in their maximum-security facility. Here…” She pointed to a building on a city map. “Inside the Ceres quarantine.” Caleb let out a low whistle.
“Well, we have to get him out,” Zoah said.
“What we have to do is figure out what this data means,” Neema countered. “There’s a bigger picture here. Milton knew the risks. He was prepared for this contingency.”
“Maybe he was, but I’m not. I didn’t risk everything to come out here and do all of this without him. I mean, I don’t know either of you at all. Can I even trust you?” asked Zoah. “No offense.”
Neema smiled. “Milton was right. We need you. You’re the one he picked to analyze the data, and I know I can’t do it. We’re so close to discovering the truth. Don’t you want to know what’s really going on out there?”
“I do. Truly. But not without Milton.”
Neema sat back in her chair and sighed. She looked at Caleb. He shrugged.
“I think it can be done,” he offered.
The woman eyed Zoah, had a heated argument with herself silently for a few moments, then gave a soft chuckle. “Fine. But I want you working on this on the way.”
Zoah smiled. “I will. I promise.”
“One other thing,” Neema said. “When I interfaced with your little friend here I noticed he had a tracker, too. Hardwired in the circuitry. I think we should deactivate it.”
“Heelo?” she asked and looked at the toy drone. Zoah thought of her mom and dad. He’d come for her, she knew.
“It’d be bad news for us if someone else found that signal,” said Caleb.
Zoah got close to Heelo’s eyes with sadness in hers. “Hey, sweetie. You have to deactivate your tracker,” she said. The drone responded with a defiant tone. “Do it, or I’ll let Neema scrap you for parts. That’s an order.”
Neema checked the monitor and nodded. It was done. Zoah felt even farther away from home than before, if that were possible. She began to worry whether she was going to ever make it back there again.
CHAPTER 9
Dr. Lightsea was late. The call with Ogden last night and subsequent work session had really jacked with his sleeping pattern. It was going to go uphill all day for him, and he wasn’t looking forward to it.
He was headed for his office when he noticed his wife sitting on Zoah’s bed as he passed the doorway. Dr. Lightsea took two steps back and leaned across the open threshold. “Everything okay, Madeline?”
“She’s gone,” his wife answered.
“Well, Zoah’s got a 9 o’clock class, doesn’t she?”
“No, Charles. I mean she’s gone.”
It took a second for what she said to register, then he was across the room accessing the home network from his daughter’s computer. “When?” he asked.
“I don’t know—sometime last night. I came in to check on her this morning. You know how hard she is to
wake up sometimes. But she wasn’t here, and her Virt chamber is empty…” Madeline clutched one of her daughter’s stuffed animals, brought the toy to her nose and caught a scent that for a moment took her back to her own childhood.
“Someone erased the logs,” he said. “Wait a minute—our shipment came in last night, didn’t it? She must have stowed away on the delivery drone. Clever. I’m going to make some calls. Send some people after her.”
“No,” said Madeline.
Dr. Lightsea did a double take. “Sorry, what did you say?”
“Let her go, Charles.”
“Look, honey, I know you’re distraught but--”
“Don’t do that,” she said, throwing her hand up. “Just…don’t. This may be her only chance to see the world—the real world. To be in it, experience life the way it was meant to be. How many times have you talked about breaking these windows, taking the family outside? But we never did, did we? I still remember Mom describing what it was like to go to the beach when she was little. She had her first popsicle there. She got her first sunburn.”
“We take the kids to the beach all the time,” Dr. Lightsea said.
“They’ve never gotten burned,” she said. “And there’s no undertow in the ocean, no jellyfish or sharks…”
“Sharks, Madeline? Seriously?”
“You know what I mean. The Virt is a facsimile. She needs to know what the world is really like. Now. While she can.”
He paused to consider what she was saying and gave his wife a serious look. “Despite what we may think, it’s still pretty dangerous out there,” he said.
“It’s too safe in here… Besides, she’s ready. And we both know you can keep her from serious harm.”
“Zoah was being prepared for something altogether different, not this. Are you willing to live with the consequences should something happen to her? I’m not infallible, you know, and the variables…”
Madeline sighed. “I’ll never forgive myself if we rob her of this experience, this opportunity to live in the world as she was always meant to. It’s worth the risk. Please tell me you agree.”