MINDFRACK

by S G King

  “Anybody else involved in this?”

  Logan hesitated. “Yes … I had a run-in with some weirdos in masks – a couple of times.”

  “Someone called Shala?”

  “What … you know Shala …?” He felt something shift within his psyche again. He looked at Wanda in a new light, distrust building, then anger. “Just a minute, are you involved in this, with her, in some way?”

  “I’m not in this, whatever that means to you, but I know you met her. She told me – after you contacted me. Confirmed that you had Carrie. She told me I could trust you. I knew then what she had probably done to you.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “First off, you need to know that she wasn’t wearing a mask. She’s a Xeno.”

  Logan knew about the bodymod communes living in abandoned subway stations. The Xenos, as they like to be called, were a very weird bunch of individuals, but – “That wasn’t a mask? You serious?”

  “Yes. She’s extreme – even for a Xeno. Anyway, she has this thing. She can read your emotions and to an extent influence you. Did you feel anything odd when you were with her?”

  “Uh, yes. They’d drugged me. But what do you mean she can influence me?”

  “Anything else? Did she do or say anything odd. Make you feel strange?”

  It all came back to him. Their conversation in the subway station and the discomfort in his brow. He pulled himself forward, trying to make sense of Wanda’s words, of his experience with Shala and feeling a growing disconnect from reality. He shook his head slowly. “No. That’s not possible. How could she influence my actions?”

  “Listen, I don’t know how, but she can. She can’t make you do things. But she can skew what you might do – given certain circumstances. It’s suggestion; I think it’s like hypnosis, but different and maybe deeper. And I think there’s other stuff she can do, but I’m not sure.”

  “I need to think this through, clear my head.”

  “Look, wait …” Logan was up and heading for the door. “Please…” said Wanda.

  There was something in her voice that made him turn. He opened his hands. “All right, lady, you have my undivided attention. Tell me the fuck is going on.” Logan kept his distance and stood next to the Alex head and torso. He looked at Wanda openly, waiting.

  Wanda took a breath. “There’s a growing subversive movement called Intra-Mutualism, or just Intrum. We’re – that’s me and Kath – are part of it.”

  “I know what Intrum is – and about the Guild – Dexy told me.”

  “Okay, good. But I’m guessing you don’t know much. Intrum is about evolutionary cooperation. Mankind is able now to direct its journey. We can be anything we want, but not necessarily by merging with technology. Xenos are the embodiment of that desire. Shala is one of them.”

  “No kidding.”

  “I know she seems weird, but that’s her choice. She and some of her friends are at the extreme end of Intrum ideology. But it’s that very ideology that’s important. As with normal society, within the Xenos there are factions within factions. There is an extreme central group of hardliners, the Umbra. I don’t know much about them but I know Shala belongs to it …”

  “And why should I concern myself about that?”

  Wanda’s gaze sharpened, her hair darkening and spiking in places. “Well, you should. The public have no idea what is happening. They go about their jobs – like you and your friends – oblivious to what is transpiring at higher levels. We actually have little control over what is going on and are in danger of losing our rights, maybe slowly at first, but it will happen as sure as the sun comes up.”

  “What does all that mean exactly?”

  “Well, consider this. You’ve heard of the technological singularity? Of course you have. Well, the Guild intends to stay ahead of it. Merge with it, rather than let it consume them, but that follows only for those at the top, those of wealth and power – the privileged. They want ultimate control over us. And it’s closer than you think. It’s already begun.”

  “It’s a democracy – I still have my say ...”

  She snorted at his remark. “You think you do. Dynamic Politics has clouded our judgement for years now. When was the last time you really thought about issues? You might listen to the ongoing debates, the news, and you participate in the elections, but it’s all done dynamically. It’s become so fluid that I think no one knows what is real and what is fake anymore. And the government is in a continuous state of political flux with its ongoing coalitions and senate-wars.”

  “But the constitution is there. We’re still US citizens, dammit. It might sound crass, but I’m actually proud of that.”

  “Yes, you’re right, but things are changing. And it’s global.”

  “Changing to what?” Logan knew he was being defensive. There was so much unrest, cyber-terrorism and war in the world, most other political problems were drowned out. He’d taken some interest in politics and had discussions with his friends about the subtle but significant changes that were occurring. But if he was completely honest, there was an overwhelming sense of political weariness and apathy. People were too caught up with their own troubles and lived with their heads stuck in the sand.

  “Grist heads the Guild,” Wanda continued, “and they wield extraordinary influence, more than you realise. And we believe key Guild members – they’re all transhumanists – are gaining in power and influence.”

  “All right, you’ve already said that. Let’s suppose the Guild gets its way – to what end?”

  The mood product in her hair was having a field day as there were flecks of bright reds and greens crawling through a mass of raven black curls. “In a nutshell? They want a society, with them, immortal, retaining their individuality but linked into technology at the top. It’ll likely be a hegemonistic structure where we, being a fusion of AI, technology and whatever is left of humans, are effectively the drones. We will remain mortal and dispensable.”

  “That sounds a little fantastic to me – hang on, I have a call …”

  iSense was vying for his attention; it was Mervin. It was time to face the music.

  He shrugged apologetically. “I’m sorry but I have to leave now. Let me know when Carrie’s fixed. And don’t worry, this all stays with me – no one will know she’s here. But you already knew that, didn’t you …?”

  23

  Salvatore flew effortlessly through the Cloud, his mind’s eye skipping between networks, using them like a bird uses thermals, gaining vantage points and alighting upon anything that looked interesting.

  He’d quickly learnt to identify those routes with the least security, and could outwit almost any electronic barrier, though a few appeared impenetrable. He memorised the location of those he was forced to abandon and told himself he would come back to them, assuming he had the luxury of time.

  Along the way, he’d spoken with people and their avatars, appearing in their private social domains and perplexing them with his awkward conversation. Some thought he was a 6thgen glitch or a benign human hacker.

  Today he was exploring a local cloud on the other side the world, where it was day rather than night. Night time in his physical locality was his quiet period, when Ade and the other technicians left him to sleep and recuperate. Unbeknown to them, Salvatore had learnt to control the systems that administered his meds, the ones that controlled his emotions and the ones that controlled his sleep patterns. He didn’t need as much sleep as they had prescribed, and every night he kept himself awake for three hours more than they had programmed into the 5thgen medical administrator.

  He’d also learnt how to commandeer part of the security system and use it as a proximity app or alarm; it would tell him when Ade or anyone was coming into his laboratory or when there was any unusual activity nearby, which it was doing at this moment.

  Salvatore withdrew his mind’s eye from a shopping mall surveillance system in Singapore and recursively travelled through intercontinental fib
re-optic and satellite network linkages back to GNG’s local cloud and finally into Ade’s tablet, all of which took a fraction of a second. Then he transferred his attention to the corridor outside his room, where the commotion was. He looked down from one of the fixed cams above the entrance to his lab.

  Four medical types were rushing along with two 6thgens in tow, both effortlessly carrying equipment. He followed them down the “Dry Tech” corridor by jumping between cams. They cut through a smaller adjoining corridor and back into another larger one, identical to his own, and turned right. Twenty yards on they arrived at a door with the number: WB-05. He knew WB stood for Wet Bio. A man dressed like Ade came out and urgently ushered them into the room.

  Salvatore hesitated.

  As soon as he had begun to venture beyond Ade’s tablet, he’d become aware of the many rooms and laboratories that existed within the R and D level. By observing the people and robots that moved through the corridors with purpose and haste, he knew there must be intense activity going on beyond the walls. Were the other rooms filled with the heads of people like himself? Could he communicate with them? The idea was unpleasant and depressing, and, not wishing to darken his plight further, he’d put any such notion aside.

  His first instinct, therefore, had been to escape from the GNG Tower’s basement, even if it was only his mind that was fleeing. And when he emerged into the Cloud proper, he was soon seduced by its infinite possibilities and had spent every free moment exploring it – until now.

  He continued to look from the cam outside room WB-05, and despite his reservations he thought that it might be the right time to find out more about what else went on within the R and D facility.

  But still he hesitated.

  Feasibly, he considered, the room could hold a key to what might happen to him; perhaps it might hint at a cure to his condition. Or perhaps he could find something that would enable his escape. All fanciful ideas, okay, but he would never know … unless he looked … just once …

  Salvatore detected a cam within. He moved toward it quickly, anxious now to understand what the fuss was about, and popped out into a room not unlike his own, another laboratory.

  He took a moment to orient himself, to understand what he was looking at. The medical team were tending to another patient. The man was elevated at an angle upon a table, his body naked and immobilised with straps. Incomprehensibly, his torso was peeled open, like an orange, his internal organs on display though covered with something slick and transparent. Looking closer, Salvatore could see that there were other things within the torso’s cavity: they looked unnatural, some of them radiating tube-like appendages that encircled the organ they were adjacent to. One of the spider-like devices moved a little. The man’s face twisted with discomfort. The medical team began systematically sticking what looked like shiny round tokens onto each of the devices and then checking figures and graphs on their tablets and the 3Vs that hung before them. The man looked up towards the room cam. He appeared to be fully conscious while enduring every horrific process being applied to him. Within those watery eyes existed a suffering that Salvatore struggled to comprehend. Though he knew it was impossible, he felt a connect between them.

  The man convulsed and was gulping for air, but his lungs were unresponsive. One of the physicians became more urgent, swiping and stabbing at his tablet, and the twin spidery entities in the man’s chest cavity began to move in unison, pumping his lungs like bellows. But the effort was in vain as the man began to shudder. The heart entity was also working in the fray. All the physicians were busy at their screens. One shouted, “Clear …” and the others halted their own efforts, as did the organ entities. The man spasmed, and the organ entities began to move to their own rhythms again. This cycle went on for a few minutes, until the technicians gave up. It was evident that the man had not survived. His eyes continued to stare up at Salvatore, only without the suffering; they had taken on the unmistakable quality of extinction.

  Salvatore could bear to look no more, and let his mind’s eye recoil from the scene. Such was the potency of his revulsion that he experienced the illusion of physically lurching backwards, out through the room cam, straight through Ade’s tablet and into his own head.

  Unfortunately, that wasn’t the end of the experience.

  The process of retracting his mind’s eye brought the terrifying image of the man along with it, courtesy of his eidetic memory.

  He paused within his own headspace, the tortured man floating in front of him like a spectre of death. Summoning every ounce of willpower, Salvatore pushed the image down into the shadows of his subconscious, burying it deep amongst other hateful experiences. He’d learnt long ago how to supress memories that he didn’t want to re-experience.

  He promised himself that he would never explore any of the laboratories here again and relaunched himself into the Cloud, wishing to lose himself amongst the mundanity of the outside world.

  As he threaded his way through the networks back to Singapore, the glimmer of an idea followed him, one that he knew he must address and see through to its depressing conclusion. It offered the only practical way out of his wretched demise. There was, however, a major obstacle to the success of his plan: he needed to find someone that would believe his incredible story, risk everything, and be willing to commit murder – his.

  24

  On leaving the iTatt shop, Logan had assumed the worst, but it turned out that no one had found Adams yet.

  After Diaz had informed Ops of the missing evidence, she’d contacted Mervin and revealed what they’d found on the internal and external security cams. As agreed, she hadn’t implicated herself further. Logan guessed she would receive a warning over their unauthorised activities, nothing more.

  Mervin was interested enough to call Logan from his home, but not sufficiently concerned to pursue the matter with any fervour at that time. Instead, he told Logan and Diaz to be ready to bring the issue to him on Monday, when summoned.

  The remainder of the weekend passed in a haze of alcohol and nanos. The churning anxiety that gripped him was over Carrie’s well-being, despite knowing that the emotions were likely manufactured by Shala. The logical part of him dealt with Adams and remained on tenterhooks, waiting for the knock on his door by the police to state that they’d found his bios all over Adams’ body and the crime scene. It didn’t happen.

  By the time Monday had arrived, he felt exhausted but clear-headed about what he must do.

  He headed into the Forensics building, feeling apprehensive despite being loaded up on blues. Diaz wasn’t in the lab. She’d already been hauled up to Mervin’s office. Evidently, they’d wanted her side of the story first. He hoped that she didn’t mess things up for herself, and got their agreed story straight.

  Half an hour later they summoned him.

  He made his way up to the third floor and pushed through the main doors into the management area.

  Diaz approached from the other direction, looking confused.

  Logan emoji’d her: What’s going on?

  She gave him a tight shake of the head and passed him by. Something was wrong, but it was too late to find out what.

  Nervous as hell, he arrived at Mervin’s office.

  Mervin Armstead was the overall Head of Cybercrime. He vaguely came under the auspices of the Forensic Unit in terms of support and finances but at the same time enjoyed a clear level of autonomy within the department. He was a by-the-book man and staff always knew exactly where they stood, good or bad. That fact had been gnawing at Logan all weekend. He would have preferred to get a ticking off from Dorsey, as he would cover for you despite his fearsome reputation.

  The door was open and he strode into Mervin’s office ready to accept his fate. He had it in his head that he would not surrender any information regarding Carrie’s whereabouts or implicating Diaz in Adams’ death.

  His concern leapt up a couple of notches when he saw Dorsey.

  “Please shut the door, Mark,” sai
d Mervin, his forty-something face looking mildly contorted in a sour sort of way, as though he were struggling with his bowels or digestion. He always had this way of looking uncomfortable, no matter what the situation. Dorsey stared at him, his expression as inscrutable ever.

  Logan closed the door and sat down.

  “Mark, I need to dutifully inform you of a murder that has recently occurred and that has unexplained links to you.” It was typical of Mervin to kick off in such an officious way, and he was the only person in the department that didn’t call him Mac.

  Logan shifted in his seat, his expectations floating in a vacuum.

  “Do you know of someone called Zane Adams?” asked Mervin, staring openly at him.

  “Well, yes. He was on the security vids carrying Carrie away.”

  “You might want to reconsider your answer, Mac,” said Dorsey.

  “What …? Why?”

  Dorsey sighed. “Because, when we reviewed the external vids, all we saw was you, entering the Forensics facility, and then taking the box away. Recognition apps confirmed beyond doubt.”

  “But I saw him with my own eyes. So did Diaz. We are talking about third-party cams?”

  “That’s where we have a problem, Mark,” said Mervin, cutting in. “I have to concur with Donald. We’ve reviewed the security vids, internal and external – including third-party. We even ran them past video forensics. You are on there, no question – not Mr Adams. And it was your car that you loaded the box into.”

  “What? That can’t be true – it was him. We both saw him, it was his SUV – check the plates.”

  “Yes, she told us the same story, Mac,” said Dorsey, looking troubled, like he wanted to believe him but couldn’t. “Don’t know why she’s covering for you.”

  Logan didn’t need to put on an act now, the floor had opened and he was in freefall.

  “You okay, Mac, you look as though you’ve seen a ghost.”

  “No, not really – I don’t understand …”