Lenders

by Johnson, John

  “Hi, there. You must be Enzo? We’ll take one,” Jim said in an odd but friendly tone as he approached the van at a brisk pace. He wasn’t looking at the drink cooler or the rentals. He walked straight up to the guy, stopped and turned to Amy. “Amy, now don’t freak out, this is what we do here, just watch. Remember these are DC’s, dream characters, manifestations of your mind, they are not actual people.”

  “Sure dude that’ll be twenty bucks for the first hour, $5 each hour after—or you want a soda, whoa, wh—” Enzo stepped back and fell on his ass as Jim plowed resolutely into him thrusting a palm into the center of his chest. “What—the— fuck man!” the kid coughed, gasping, trying to catch his breath; a surprise attack.

  Jim swung behind his fallen prey and planted a knee in the sand. Compared to Jim Enzo was a weakling, and couldn’t counter, and stunned from the blow his attempt to spin himself away was futile. Jim easily handled his frail body avoiding the frantic pitter-pattering like dodging a few pesky flies and quickly secured him in a headlock—then squeezed. His right bicep flexed, exploding from his arm, and he double locked the maneuver by bringing his left arm up to the dude’s forehead. Purple-faced Enzo wheezed, slapping his hands uselessly into the sand. And Jim grunted, constricting harder. He squinted as Enzo flung sand into his eyes. But unwavering, his face beet red with puffed cheeks, he compressed more, with all he had until the fellow spasmed, then fell limp.

  Amy took a step back bracing herself, waving arms aimlessly backward into the air as if to catch her fall. She let out a scream, covering her mouth before most of it could escape. And came a sudden flashback of the cave, a familiar feeling she had long since blocked out—pain, sadness—and anger. It was a mix of many feelings that created a new and powerful emotion of its own.

  A strong gust of wind came blowing the sand. Panting with eyes wide she managed to get a hold of herself. She controlled her rapid breathing and looked around to see if anyone was watching what Jim had just done. No one saw. She turned back to him, shocked and bewildered.

  “What the fuck Jim? What are you doing?!” Amy yelled, nearly whispering her second sentence. Sitting next to dead Enzo under the large umbrella, catching his breath, he waved her in. His color returned quickly.

  “We could’ve waited but you wanted to know. I wanted to tell you but I couldn’t find the words so I just let myself do—what we do here. We kill the others. Each time we do there’s a surge in output, our ability to—lend—provide the machines the consciousness they need. They read the measurable boost in the broadcast room, and we, meet our quota. This—is our job.”

  Amy fell to her knees in front of him. Still panting he watched her, eyes glued—hoping she could deal with it. This was the moment of truth, and he analyzed her every reaction. He moved Enzo’s body aside, slowly, as if mattered, but it might make her feel better if he portrayed some sense of respect. Drained by the kill his arms fell limp at his side and they both sat, facing each other, knees jabbed into the sand.

  She didn’t know what to think but got a hold on her feelings rather quickly—much faster than did any of the few trainees the program had enlisted in the past. He noticed the difference right away. They sat there a good two minutes, silent and staring at each other.

  Jim knew he was between a rock and a hard place and conveyed an apologetic look on behalf of everyone in the program. “I am sorry Amy. This is how the system works—there’s no other way.” He caught his breath, but appeared drained. Clouds rolled in, a storm brewed. Out of the ordinary; he noticed but refocused his attention to her. “But, with you on the team, we have hope for new things, a chance perhaps. There are—”

  Amy looked to the dead surfer and focused her gaze. She squinted, unloading pent-up emotions and pain, some she had long since forgotten. Her eyes widened with a deep fast breath—and the body disappeared. As if vibrating, the substance of the corpse that was Enzo, dismantled from existence.

  Jim’s eyes popped in awe. “How? Did you—”

  “Yes. I did,” she replied in a detached slow voice cutting him off.

  Jim moved his hand through the sand where the body once was, only the impression of Enzo’s body remained. He sifted it through his fingers; his eyes smiled with wonder and his jaw dropped in confusion. This is something, this—things are going get interesting, he thought. I knew it.

  The sun was lower on the horizon but it wasn’t yet quitting time. Day’s end was determined not only by the position of the sun or moon, but also by how a lender felt. After kills lenders would feel drained, mentally tired. Inside any of the dream world maps this weariness was also reflected as physical fatigue. Much varied greatly from person to person. Some lenders could only make one or two kills and be exhausted, while others could make ten per day and still continue on. Jim’s record was sixteen kills in a single day and his mind had the ability to generate a max of around twenty-five dream characters at any one time. A personal quota: he strove to kill at least ten per day; any more than that would deplete his energy and he could barely walk, and the next day’s performance would suffer.

  And after kills generating new dream characters became increasingly difficult. Regeneration was important in case of sudden drops in total consciousness output which could deplete the status meter to yellow. It hadn’t dipped into the red zone since Jim had been on the team but he knew what would happen if it did. The sky’s color reflected status: natural vivid blue indicated green status, yellow and red and tones, with varying hues in between represented—a problem. In emergencies Jim and other high-output lenders were called in to work; they’d thus far always been able to hold it steady, and increase the flow relatively quickly, preventing red status. Because of Amy’s trainee status there were a few others on duty to pick up the slack. Unfortunately there were very few compatible people in the town, people that could affect the broadcast feed status positively, as Ted, Rico, and Jim well knew. They were the top three, highest ranked, and knew more about the facility operations than most others—although Ron and Devon had very specialized and important positions as well.

  Jim finished explaining the basics about kills and noticed Amy had stopped paying attention. She sat with a blank stare. “I think we should call it quits for today. I’m sorry it can’t be a vacation all the time, but it does have its good points. What do you think Amy, log out for now?”

  “You really shocked me,” she replied after a long pause. “I didn’t know what to think. Can we just sit here a while longer, and not talk?”

  “Of course, we have plenty of time. Our log out time is when the sun sets, or of course if we are too drained to make a positive difference—” He was interrupted abruptly.

  “Just sit and be quiet Jim. I need that right now.”

  “Okay Amy.” They walked a little closer to the water and sat down together, legs crossed in the thick white sand. They stared at the water and watched the sun descend. He looked over at her a couple of times without turning his head. She continued to stare outward expressionless while slowly digging her hands through the sand. She’d look down at it, and sift the perfect white grains through her fingers, then stare endlessly at the sea. She appeared to him as one with many thoughts, surely more dynamic than he’d thought at first. There’s something about her, he thought.

  Together they relaxed at enjoyed the rest of the day in total silence. Oddly the looming storm had abruptly changed direction and headed out to sea. Angry lightning shocked the horizon. Clouds were rampant with fury, back lit by the descending sun. Flaming reds and intense oranges won against the brilliant blues. As the tide slowly departed and the sea calmed, the sun touched the horizon releasing a spasm of beauty unlike any either of them could recall. Jim had logged in to this map countless times, but never once had seen such a magnificent combination of storm and sunset. He sensed something new. To the core—the peace and beauty of the scene reached deep inside of him. No denying—the moment affected him profoundly—or, was it her presence?

  25. Detailsr />
  Amy rose on the bed. Her mind felt a little hazy, different compared to waking from a normal dream. She recalled every detail in vivid clarity, then thought about—the catch. Killing people!

  They seem so real. Can I actually go through with it, choking people until they die—and every single day? My job. Do I actually have to choke them? Am I strong enough? Wait, maybe I won’t have to. Maybe as long as I’m logged in with Jim and he does the killing… She only hoped.

  Jim cocked his head slightly in a quick jerk, rapidly blinking his eyes twice as he made his way from the dimly lit lender bed area toward the BROCC where Ted anxiously awaited.

  “Jim, I thought we agreed to wait, passive only,” Ted said. Noticing his twitch, “You okay Jim?”

  “I’m fine. Just a little—” He rubbed the back of his neck and shook the feeling. “—it’s nothing.” Amy remained on the bed. She was sitting up and looking around. “I think she needs a minute.” They looked over to her. “She can be so pushy. So I saw an opportunity and took it. I felt she was ready. Besides, when I began here, like her I only wanted answers. And I didn’t start sleeping nights again until I got them. I wanted people to be straight with me. None were and I ended up guessing all night with nobody to talk to.”

  “I understand Jim. It was your call. I still think it was a little early because we were gathering data to get a base. But, we did get enough to manage. And I think you might be surprised by the results. Oh, and it looks like you two are a perfect match as far as compatibility.” Amy came over. “Amy, are you alright? What did you think?”

  “Hi Ted. Yes I’m fine. I’ll admit it was quite an experience. A little jarring when Jim, well…”

  Ted empathized, “Yes, I know Amy, it can be. I’ve never been a lender myself, very few individuals can do it and produce more output than what is needed to run the system, but I’ve worked with many and I have to say—you’ve done exceptional.” His calm voice was lifted with praising excitement. “Much is unknown today, even to us, about this war with the machines. I think Jim explained to you why we do what we do here but just in case I would be happy to show you more about how your mind is used. Why don’t you both head over for a bathroom break, grab a snack if you’d like, then join me back here in a little bit. I know Jim likes to do some stretching after work.”

  Amy and Jim sat at the table in the break room. They warmed a small pizza and shared it. Amy poured some juice and he a tall glass of water. The pizza was good. Jim wasn’t a huge fan of pizza but he knew Amy would like it. She inhaled the first slice before opening her mouth to talk.

  Jim thought, wow can she eat! They were both hungry after a long day.

  “Why did you kill that guy all the sudden? Why didn’t you just tell me? Honestly Jim, that scared me,” she said.

  “I’m sorry,” Jim explained. “That was how I and everyone here was taught. It leaves an impression. So we never forget why we are doing this. But most importantly Ted and his team uses your first impression, everything is recorded. It’s one of the most important pieces of data they can gather about a lender, a baseline to gauge your future progress.”

  “An impression, gee. Well it surely did that.”

  “Do you want to continue with the program Amy?” he asked slowly. "I really hope you do.” She took another huge bite.

  She exhibited a rebound, clearly presenting that she was mentally stable with a strong mind. After swallowing and taking a big drink of her juice, “Yes. You bet I do. Will you be with me in there?”

  “I will. Together,” He held a fist toward her and she didn’t hesitate to bump it. “We will be a team for a long time—if that’s alright with you. Every lender goes in as a pair, and we are to be partners. And, we get the best hours, thanks to you.” He winked.

  She liked him and they both smiled. “In it together then, team!” She gobbled up a third slice, Jim slowed down, only nibbling at a second. The pizza was good, layered with vegetables from the gardens. Julio made it and the fridge was full of them. Bertha’s Place didn’t bother with pizza anymore because he was so good at it. They finished the meal and goofed around a bit, forgetting all about the bad stuff. Jim told her a joke that he’d learned from a dream character, and she laughed. He explained to her how they can be very surprising and unpredictable. Being an experienced natural dreamer, she already knew.

  A couple of lenders woke, headed to the bathrooms then left. Ted finally called on Amy; Jim headed to the stretching machines. He had a demo prepared for her on the HAT and wanted to clear a few things up so she knew exactly what was going on.

  “Amy. This is a recording of the both of you during the session.” Then he pressed a button and another scene appeared. We have a variety of maps so you’ll never get bored. Of course we want you to enjoy yourself as much as possible, but all lenders have to make DC kills.”

  “Dream characters,” she said.

  “Yes. Exactly,” Ted agreed, and he switched the hologram view to a different map. “This one is a favorite for lenders. It’s a replica of Future City; it was so grand before the war.” He pointed toward two figures highlighted in a white glow sitting on a bench near a large water fountain. It blasted colorful illuminated water high into the sky, a magnificent display. Amy wanted to reach in and feel it; it looked so real. “That’s Jessie and George,” he said pointing. Amy watched and they began to kiss. “They’ve been a team in the program for over five years now and they work very well together.” She was the prettiest woman Amy had ever seen, and remembered her walking in with George shortly after her own arrival in the morning.

  A sensual female voice came over speakers, “Director, visual off, twenty minutes.” On the disc-shaped revolving outer edge of the HAT Ted tapped a button then entered a value. The display went dark and a rotating lock graphic floated, then another map loaded: a desert canyon scene. Amy noticed that one from earlier, during her initial tour.

  “What happened there?” she asked.

  “They asked for a little privacy,” Ted replied. “Twenty minutes worth. Not uncommon during the DC regeneration period. There are various things you can ask of the director, who is usually, yours truly. I’m almost always here. They say I should get out more but—I enjoy my job. When I need to rest Ron or Devon takes over. We do treat our lenders well and as long as you meet your quota you can continue with the program. Each team gets a different quota which is generally about half of your max capability; this also varies depending on the need of the system. We strive to produce maximum output sustainability over time.”

  Amy pondered the ideas blushing, still thinking of the two love birds, “Very interesting. Are most of the Lenders a couple?”

  “We shuffled a few lenders around for you and Myron. But, no not exactly. Some are lovers yes, some are close friends, but most simply work well together. We make sure of that first and foremost.” He leaned in and whispered, “Some as odd as it may be, enjoy the—well—the kill. They make a sport out of it.”

  “Sick,” Amy retorted shaking her head. “That’s strange. Each to their own I guess.”

  “Yes. Indeed. But these are strange times.” Ted continued changing maps so she could see the variety. “It is getting increasingly rare to find a lender that can actually produce any output. There are currently only forty-two individuals that can participate, most on standby at any given time, and most of those have very limited potential. We absolutely must keep the feed at green status around the clock. We usually need to run at least five or six teams per eight hour shift.” She was locked in awe staring at the detail of the worlds: waterfalls and canyons, cities and jungles, hot-air balloons, carnivals, islands, oceans, limitless! He stopped changing the maps and paused, then turned to face her. “I must let you know Amy, your ability while logged in produces some very interesting results. Take a look over here if you would.”

  Ted walked a few steps toward a station against the wall and pressed a few buttons on a touch panel below a large screen. Amy followed. “This is
our output under condition green. We simply call it green status, the level we are at now.” Ted pointed to a graph display. It had varying levels, sloping upward as a curve from red, to yellow, to green, then way above at the top of the screen, purple. “The output produced by the team is equivalent to that of hundreds of minds. That is what we need to maintain in order to keep this status. That means Amy, hundreds of machines can use it to become aware, or intelligent. Each person that is logged in—and while the flow varies greatly from person to person—can empower dozens, some hundreds—machines that use varying amounts of this power. Some are as simple as an auto-targeting laser, and some, well, far more complex. Depending on their systems capacities of course, our broadcast feed provides them with the ability to be—resourceful, creative, perceptive, rational—and yes, alive. Our minds are that powerful. After a DC is removed quickly—I really hate to say the word kill—there is a surge in the consciousness output. This is because in order for your mind to generate vivid and quite literally cognizant characters inside of a dream, it uses a subconscious power, a power that we as humans possess. Our systems siphon off a sliver of it, they harness and magnify it. When a DC vanishes the system senses the alleviation within your subconscious, and swipes the gain before your mind has a chance to reuse it again. It’s complicated. This is why your dreams, and namely the characters inside them, seem so real. Your mind uses a lot of energy in order to create such complex beings in your dreams. The characters in fact, are real, in a sense anyway. They surprise you, do things that you didn’t predict, and can even think on their own. This is in essence, what you lend to machines, a part of your subconscious mind, the energy of thought itself.”

  “This is really incredible Ted.” She continued to ingest the information, awed at the potential, the idea of it all, highly interested, intrigued. Better than the flying ships or real adventures that she was expecting, well, close, real close. And she felt a strange connection to the power of the facility, something vague in the far reaches of her mind. She played with the words in her head, Thought, Energy.