Technophobe!

by Matt Crawley

  Chapter 5

  7:25PM

  Jim squinted hard, to make sure he wasn't hallucinating. Several strange objects floated over the city like swans floating on a still lake. They were difficult to make out, but they were fast, and seemingly made no noise. One, hidden amongst the office towers, started to glow with a sharp light, for about 2 seconds, then the light extended into a beam, like a long forked tongue. The beam started a fire on the ground. Someone screamed. Jim quickly turned and marched the other way. He had to get away, somehow from this endless city. He had to get to his car.

  Then, out from behind the trees, one of the 'objects' came and stared at him in the face. It was the size of a small house, floating with its underside brushing the branches. In a split second of bafflement, Jim recognised it from somewhere. Its shape was like a pointed love heart, covered in massive, art-deco swirls, and the colour was copper green, like a rot. The light humming from its shell was like that of Jez' computer screen. Jim had seen these things from the SoulNet logo. What was it? Was this what SoulNet was really about? If it was some kind of invasion or attack, or whatever it wanted to do, the website was a good distraction.

  He had no time to think. He sprinted as fast as he could down the street. The arrowhead floated lazily, following him intently. "Someone help!" He shouted. Still no-one responded. He may as well have been the last man alive. A pink light sparkled on the arrowhead's point, more and more intense, until the whole street was washed in colour. Quickly, Jim took a sharp turn behind a hedge. At the same time, the light became a beam, solid as a blade, aimed at Jim, but instead hit the hedge. It burst into purple flames.

  His loud footsteps and shouting, as well as the flame, should have alerted someone, but it didn't. Everyone was on their computers, waiting for the party that would never really happen. They were never going to notice him, no matter how much noise he made. His phone started to vibrate again, and it didn't stop - he could feel it in his pocket as he ran. SoulNet was still trying to catch him.

  Soon he reached his flat. Once he had stepped through his front door he felt a bit safer. The arrowhead hovered outside, waiting. He picked up his phone. SoulNet was alerting that the party would start in one minute. He tried 999. No answer. Not even an answering machine. Jez sat staring at his laptop, as Jim had seen before. He walked over and reached out to close the computer. As soon as he touched it, Jez reached out an arm and punched his flatmate to the ground. Jez was still transfixed to his computer, but his body was aware of Jim's presence. 'Please, this can't get any worse' Jim mumbled with an aching face. Then he looked out the window and saw the arrowhead staring straight at him, charging another pink beam. He ran to his bedroom and hid under his bed. He couldn't think of anything else to do but to hide and pray. His phone would not stop vibrating. Now even the floor and the air around him vibrated too, as the arrowhead began to pummel the building with its alien cannons.

  What else could he do? Hide and die of fright? Or have some kind of happy memory, even if it was a pretend one? His chin began to shake. He lifted the phone to his face, opened the site, and pressed 'Accept Invite'. His head hit the floor as it was washed in fractured colour and code from the screen. He was now attending the great Global Gathering.

  Epilogue

  As millions of people awoke the following morning, they knew they had had a great time, but unlike previous SoulNet events, they had little or no memory of the gathering. What was meant to be a historic event had turned out to be a blip of consciousness. There had been a lot of things set on fire that night, in many cities, but the authorities thought it was vandals from the party. Everyone seemed to tut it off and moved on with their lives. SoulNet continued to be the most visited website in the world, but this did not last. A week later, user numbers halved. Another week passed, numbers dwindled even more. SoulNet tried to organise another Global Gathering, bigger and better than the first one, but very few people were interested, and it was somehow cancelled. Police had wondered whether vandalism would have become catastrophic if the Gathering had actually happened. Within a month the website had stopped being a conversation topic. No-one felt inclined to look at it anymore. It was a distant and vague memory.

  Perhaps this was because it was just another fad, another clone of popular ideas come before it. There were a number of sociological theories, some of which entered textbooks and academic journals for years to come. A popular theory however linked its decline in popularity with someone who appeared in the photos of the gathering. Every SoulNet event had many photos, which accurately showed the interests and characters of the people who joined the event. With its huge number of attendees, the great Global Gathering had an enormous collection of pictures, but many of which had a recurring face. It was Jim Sanders' face. Unlike everyone else, there was never a picture of him enjoying himself, but instead looking angry, or cautious. In many of his pictures he held up a white banner with clear black writing, of words which also appeared on his white T-shirt - "SOULNET DOES NOT EXIST".

  The Android

  The machinery thumped and struggled and strained like a heart trying to beat. Pistons, wheels, computers, pools of plastic and metal, batteries, all together like one vast creature. The factory was simply called 'Building 6'. There was no time for fancy names on the lonely planet Monio-Pa, a feared and troubled totalitarian desert of war machines and monotonous architecture. Mind control techniques, and terrifying propaganda were everywhere, and citizens were afraid to be noticed. They wanted to be simply statistics, purely for their safety. Nearby planets, and floating cities, would keep away, in case the Monio Empire would decide to spread out through the galactic states with their weapons, like a virus.

  The workers within Building 6 however had no complaints. This was because they were not alive. Over four-hundred androids - robots made to look and act like human beings - were working at the controls and conveyor belts. All the androids looked and acted basically the same: short brown hair, piercing green eyes, and a few blotches of freckles on their noses. Their skeletal and muscular designs were identical, and their voices had the same tones. The details were incredible. The design was based on the physical appearance of their designer, Frank Pullinger, a pioneer of robotics, who reluctantly worked for the Monio to save his life. However Frank had been missing for the past five years, and no-one was willing to ask why. With their government, anything could have happened - the people thought to themselves and never said. The androids had no remorse or grief. They just knew how to work, to salute at officers, obey orders, and nothing else. A truly brilliant workforce. No revolting, no complaints, no holidays. They needed their hair cut every month, and everyday were given artificial nutrition to keep their batteries going, but that was all.

  The regular pattern of things in the building was disrupted one morning when a man in his mid-50s strolled through the corridors, escorted by four armed guards. He was tall, well built, wearing a large coat made of some kind of animal skin, and brass flight goggles which were raised to his forehead. His hands were cuffed, and he was compliant, although the bruises and scars on his face and hands suggested otherwise. The group's footsteps were all in sync. Eventually they entered a large doorway, to a room with no more decoration that a desk and two chairs. A stern looking official stood, leaning against the desk, eyeing up the guest. He cleared his throat and addressed the guards.

  "Is he clean?"

  "We searched him, but there are no weapons, no communication devices, just a satchel, an old wallet and a load of papers." The head guard said. "He came on an old Earth ship, but it was rented for coming here."

  The official's face was still, under opaque green spectacles. "Well, what's his business? I don't have time to waste, you know!"

  The guard took a small round object, like a coin, from a zip in his uniform. "He wouldn't tell us anything, but he showed us this. That is why we have brought him to you, sir." The official snatched the disc and held it up to his face. It showed a jagged symbol - a flower made from s
words - surrounded by words of an ancient language.

  "It's the Emperor's seal." His mind gasped. He slipped the disc into a tiny slot in the side of his desk. A screen-like hologram lifted itself out of the desk like something from a children's pop-up book, and filled with writing, photographs and official looking signatures. He looked over all four corners of the screen, lifting his spectacles in frustration. He double checked the writing. Surely it wasn't real? But he would never disobey the Emperor, he could not. A disc like that was impossible to forge or copy. "Leave him with me." He barked. "Attend to your duties." The guards turned and left, still walking perfectly in sync, the door shutting itself behind them.

  The guards waited outside the door for over an hour, keeping still, keeping watch, and not speaking a word. Yet they were all thinking the same things. They were wondering what was going on in the office. Who was this stranger who had come from nowhere? Finally, the door opened, and the two men walked cautiously down the corridor, and the guards instinctively escorted them. They turned a couple of corners, and entered an innocent looking door. Yet again, it was a room with only a table and chairs inside, but this time the walls were surrounded by one-sided mirrors. This was the interrogation room.

  The visitor was sat on one side of the table, still handcuffed, and a gun continually pointing at his back. The official spoke orders into a communicator: "Bring in Number 49. This is under the Emperor's authority." Within minutes, a guard marched through the factory, holding a tracking device. All the androids looked the same, except for a small number on a badge worn on their uniform. While they wouldn't admit it, the human workers were often unnerved by the sight of hundreds of identical, expressionless people. It always looked and felt like a strange dream, a hallucination. His tracker flickered and clicked, showing him Number 49, who was busy on the conveyor belt. It and the other nearby androids were making robot parts. Machines building machines. The guard spoke a codeword into 49's ear and it stood up sharply, walking without a word.

  49 stiffly entered the room, eyeing the stranger with apparent caution. It had never been outside the factory floor before, except for its cubicle-like living room where it ate and slept. This room was new and unfamiliar. It smelt new. The air temperature was different. It took 49 a few seconds to sit down and adjust to a new task. The voice was cold but had human nuances.

  "How can I help you?"

  The stranger coughed and fidgeted in his seat. He had worked hard to get to this point. Now he wasn't sure what to say.

  "It's me. Albert. I'm your father. Your old dad." His words seemed to echo all over the small space as 49 tried to process words and concepts.

  "My father is the designer, Franklin Pullinger. You are not Franklin." 49 said, sitting up straight.

  Albert sat forward and sighed. "No, listen. I am not Frank. You are Frank. My Frankie. I'm here to get you out of here." 49 blinked.

  "I do not know what you mean." It said. Its hands started to rub together slightly. Albert took his wallet out of his pocket and showed 49 some photos. They showed a younger Albert playing with a freckled boy with green eyes. Another one showed the two of them at the boy's graduation ceremony. Another had the pair sitting on a sunny beach somewhere on Earth. 49 stared at the pictures intently.

  "I don't expect you to remember everything right now, Frankie, with all the drugs they've been pumping into your blood the past few years....Have you ever missed your daily meal?"

  49 thought for a couple of seconds. "Yes I did. Once. There was a clerical error with the distribution of substances. The workers were punished severely."

  "What happened when you didn't have your meal?"

  "I had a malfunction. I became violent and disobedient to orders."

  "What happened to the rest of the androids?"

  49 paused. Paths of logic were fighting inside its mind. "They carried on, but ran on low power. Their batteries were not charged enough."

  Albert smiled for the first time, almost starting to relax. "Can you not see? You are different to the others. You were not given battery chemicals. You were given drugs to control your emotions, your behaviour. Is there anything in you that remembers anything? Do I make you feel things, sitting here? I'm your dad."

  49 did not move an inch, but its breathing increased ever so slightly. His eyes started to glimmer. "If I was Franklin, why would I be here in the factory?"

  Albert looked at 49 with love in his face. "Because you are brilliant. So brilliant. And the Monio didn't like that. They were threatened by you. I mean, you design the most amazing things. They were worried you would show them up!" A line of moisture started to slide down 49's face. "So, being what they are, they thought of the perfect way to punish you. They brainwashed you, so you would work for them, like a slave." His chin trembled. "It hurts me, seeing what they did to you."

  The green eyed man stared long and hard at the pictures. "I remember small things, but the workers have all been briefed that any memories are part of our programming. If I am Frank, I do not feel like Frank." His fingers were starting to twitch curiously.

  "When you are out of here, and you have all them chemicals out of you, and boy that is gonna feel rough, you will feel like Frank again. You will feel a lot of things. Your memories will be back. You will have to trust me, boy." The man touched his son's hand. "Trust me, things are gonna be alright."

  Frank stood up, alarmed, like he had been almost stung by an insect. His face was still cold and confused, but a drop of sweat glimmered on his forehead. "How will I be free?" he asked.

  "I have been through all kinds of places, quite a few planets, meeting lots of dodgy characters, to get here. It's a long story, but in the end I managed to get permission from the Emperor himself!" His smile turned more serious. "But to get you out of here I need to do some things, which you might not like or understand. You have to trust me. I have been to the ends of the earth and back to you out of here and nothing will stop me." Albert lifted his hand, as a signal to those looking behind the mirrors. Guards walked into the room. One placed a cup on the table, filled it with water and dropped a purple capsule, which fizzed into froth within seconds. Albert took a deep sigh, and drank the cup's contents in one go.

  "What is going to happen?" Frank asked, puzzled.

  His father dropped the cup. "I am going to take your place in the factory." He said, as a matter of fact. Frank's eyes pierced into him. He realised that his father had taken his first intake of mind control medicine. "Take this. It will help you get started." He said as he passed his son the old leather satchel. "All the arrangements have been made." In a flash, the guards cuffed Albert's wrists and took him away. "I'll see you again, son! Trust me!" he called down the corridor. Another guard gripped Frank by the arm and pulled him out the room. Frank had so many questions, so many fuzzy ideas in his head. What was happening? He could not remember the last time his mind had been so active.

  They took him to an elevator shaft - a shaft that reached hundreds of storeys to the heavens, to a docking bay. He was pushed and strapped into a shuttle, which was only big enough for one person to lie down inside. They ignored all his questions and comments. Once strapped securely, they closed the lid of the capsule, and with the tap of a few keys and dials, it launched into the vastness of space.

  The journey was turbulent and uncomfortable - there was no clock inside, but it took two days to reach Earth. Two days was enough time for the drugs to wear off. Frank's body and mind became panicked and hot. The withdrawal effects were almost unbearable. He had barely felt any emotion or self awareness in about five years, during which he never had any reason to doubt that he was an android. Everything had changed so suddenly. Now in the capsule, his mind felt like it was about to explode any moment. A couple of times he thought it actually had. Nightmares and reality skewed into one long fever. He swore there were jaws clamping around his head, and hornets and bats flying around the capsule, in and out of his ears. His veins were reaching out of his body, wrapping around him li
ke a cage. As time went by, memories began flooding back to him, like a monsoon after a long dry season. It was overwhelming, almost overpowering. His claustrophobia began to creep in once more. He shouted out for anyone who might hear him.

  Frank felt the gut-wrenching feeling of falling in his sleep, though he was sure he was awake. The capsule opened suddenly, the light scratching his eyes. He had landed, but where was he? Then his mind crashed. He felt every kind of emotion, sensation, fear and longing all at once - it was as though he had just been born. It was overwhelming; his head thumping and his veins gushing and his heart fighting to burst out of his chest. He spewed over the side. The rocking and swaying of the ocean didn't help. This was Earth, his childhood planet. He hadn't smelt the Earth air in maybe 8 or 9 years. Now it smelt pungent and rotting, of guano and seaweed. Had it always smelt like that? Looking around he saw that he was floating in a sea of grey and purple. The capsule sprouted inflatable limbs and was quickly pushing itself towards a small town, which suspended over the European sea on enormous concrete legs. A two headed seagull flew nearby, arguing with itself. In the distance he could see the town's inhabitants - they all wore similar clothes his father had, made from animal skin. A seal skin, he remembered. Their world had drowned, but they were still a resilient and passionate people. They waved and hollered - perhaps they had already been informed of his coming.

  As the capsule edged closer to civilisation, he opened the satchel and found various interesting things to read. Some maps of the new Earth continents, a book of phone numbers, and some photos and newspaper articles. Then he found a long note, written by his father. "Avenge yourself, Frank. Avenge the last few years of your life. Be brilliant again. Get rid of the Monio. Somehow, I know you can. They will wish they never messed with the son of Alfred Pullinger!" He smiled an exhausted smile, and wondered where to begin.

  Mindline