by SJ Davis
“Look, I know this is a risk for you. But I need to talk to you,” said Nico as soon as they exited the tunnel, outside of the grid’s reach, his blonde dreadlocks reflected the strange pink light of the sun, a small skull bead hung from a strand of hair in the back.
They patted the dust from their knees and sat on a bench.
“Shoot.”
“We have to bring this down.” Nico chewed on five pieces of gum at once. He pulled out his camera and began to take pictures of the vacant buildings.
“Bring what down?”
“Omni, dude.” Nico fidgeted, one leg crossing the other, and then he switched again. His long fingers scratched the frayed threads of material around his knees.
“Don’t be crazy.”
“I’m not crazy. Omni is crazy. You must know that. They lie to you and they hope their shit sticks to the wall. And we suck down all the bullshit they feed us because we are PROGRAMMED by them.”
“I need to get back, Nico. I’m not getting involved in whatever you’re talking about.” Yeshua got up and Nico grabbed his arm.
“You have to, Yeshua. I need your help.”
“Does this involve Minnow?”
“Yes,” Nico answered after an awkward silence. “She’s got the brains.”
“Then no way. I don’t even want to hear about it. Minnow is clever enough when she’s not high, but those moments are further and further apart.” Yeshua looked back to the studio. “I’m not sure why Omni lets her get away with it.”
“You’re wrong.”
“Do you have some sort of whacked-out revolution in mind? You’ll fail, Nico. Omni will crush you and keep you here with the rejects.”
“You’re wrong about Minnow being a junkie.”
“What?”
“Omni feeds it to her. There is no other explanation.”
“I think your imagination has taken a turn into crazy town.”
“Listen. Omni is wrong. You know that. Now you are on the inside of Omni you must know it, or at least suspect it, even more than I do. You’re a leader, Yeshua, not one of Omni’s sheep.”
“There’s nothing you can do, Nico. But I can make changes, over time, from the inside. Legal changes.”
“It will take too long, Yeshua. I want to erase Omni. Get rid of it before it started.”
“And how would you do this?” Yeshua stood up; he ran his hands through his hair and looked to the sky. “Omni was born in a backroom somewhere with a bunch of men in black suits and a series of secret messages between corporations and governments. But even before that moment, technology and personalities that we have no way of knowing about had to be at the right place; Omni evolved, it didn’t start suddenly. It probably has its roots in the Industrial Age or in the 1990’s internet era.”
“Exactly.”
“Exactly what?”
“It began in the Victorian age. I want to go back on the timeline and change it.”
“You’re insane. We don’t go back in time. Are you high?”
“Not yet,” Nico grinned. “Look, we have old journals. Minnow’s family invented the first analog computer. Its investors were responsible for the evolution of Omni.”
Yeshua’s head was throbbing from last night’s drinking. The new recruits had been out celebrating in a sanctioned outing. Nico kicked at the ground, scattering cigarette butts in the dust.
“It’s history, and you can’t change it, Nico. It has happened, you can’t time-shift.”
“I’ve been writing a journal in Lakhota, as best I can, anyway, trying to figure things out. Remember Ms. R? That cute teacher who taught us that language? Do you think that was coincidence?”
“That we learned a little Native American? What would that coincide with?”
“It gets us around the grid sometimes, man. I feel like she chose us. For something like this.”
“You are just not right in the head, Nico. And this time, your idea is dangerous.”
“Do you know how my life dims every time I’m on the grid? Whenever I can get off it, it’s like the light goes back on. For me, it’s about endless potential versus endless mind control.”
“Start concentrating on something productive. Make the best of where you are.”
Nico pulled out a small carving knife and started to cut his nails. “No. I feel like collateral damage, Yeshua. And it’s not just me, it’s you too.”
“No, man. I’m good.”
“Uh-uh,” said Nico. “You think you’re good because your chip tells you to feel good. Now that you’re on the inside of Omni, you can’t tell me that you don’t see the fakeness of it all. How it’s all a lie? They don’t tell you the truth, man. You’re smart enough not to swallow their poison, aren’t you?”
Yeshua remembered Ms. R’s and walking to his seat when Nico tripped him, it had to be ten years ago. He sprawled, face first on the tile floor, between the rows of desks, his backpack hitting the back of his head with such force his teeth smashed into the floor. His apple rolled to the back of the room as his mouth filled with the iron taste of blood.
Ms. R had run over to him, her back straight and her demeanor formal, uncomfortable even. “Yeshua,” she had said as he looked up to the unified amusement of his classmates, “are you quite all right?” As she helped him up, her blouse shifted downward, revealing some sort of corset, which was strangely out of place. “Pay no attention and do not be distracted, Yeshua.” She cupped his face in her hands. “Be strong. Don’t hold any anger against Nico, you two need to be like brothers. Understand?”
He remembered nodding but also ignoring her words. Until now.
“I’m not saying I’m in, because I’m not. But what’s your crazy plan?” asked Yeshua with a deep sigh. “Who does it involve?”
“The plan is to keep the analog from the investors. And it involves a Madam, the Prime Minister of England’s daughter, a clock repairman, and the daughter of a Luddite. In 1865.”
“This has got to be a joke.” Yeshua rubbed his eyes and hung his face in his hands.
“No. And I’ll prove it, as soon as Minnow solves the space and time issue. We have correspondence ready to deliver in London to set the plan in motion, to Lady Caroline Ratcliffe and to Bodhi Singh. We are halfway there.”
“Do you hear yourself?” Yeshua bolted up. “As soon as Minnow solves the space and time issue?” Yeshua counted with his fingers. “Minnow? Space time issue?”
“Yeshua, ye of little faith,” Nico joked. “This is real. And we can be the ones to do it.”
Omni HQ
Three Days Later 2134
“Hold the light more to the left.” Yeshua bent his head and rested on a door that led to the stacks. Rows of thin metal shelves shimmered, filled with lines of thumbnail sized silver discs, were locked inside.
“You think the monitors are on?” asked Nico.
“They are on,” Yeshua gestured to keep silent. “But unless something suspicious happens, nothing will register.”
“You seriously don’t think we look suspicious?” Nico whispered.
“I am authorized personnel. You just need to keep the voices in your head quiet.”
Nico nodded. “Enaon Inila.” Keep quiet.
“Bleze La Nitawa Tawaci,” said Yeshua in agreement. Clear your mind. “Woglake Lakotuyape.” Speak Algonquin, the feed doesn’t recognize it.
They walked past the black doors and crept down the hall. They entered a galley styled room, dimly illuminated by blinking floor lights.
Yeshua crawled under the laser detector’s red light, which shot across the room while Nico stayed at the doorway. Nico wiped his brow from the heat given off by the large information servers in the room behind him.
“Aim lower. I can’t read the screens.” Nico adjusted his torch to the middle of the wall. “Where do you think I should start?” Yeshua wondered.
Yeshua’s tanned pointer finger hovered over the first screen on the north wall. Immediately, the screen lit up. Yeshua remained
still, critically thinking, not wanting to make a data entry error.
Yeshua entered his supervisor’s password that he’d traced earlier in the with touch screen copy spyware, courtesy of Minnow. Sharp beep. Blinking screen. Secondary Validation Required. Enter Secondary Password.
Shit thought Yeshua. What now? He took a chance and entered “Widgee,” the name of his supervisor’s cat. His upper lip began to sweat as the red blinking lights reflected in his eyes.
Bingo! The blinking stopped. He looked back at Nico and smiled.
“Yustosto,” whispered Yeshua. Pets. He grinned and exhaled deeply with relief.
“Do a search for Nocturnal Operations,” answered Nico. “Scan for the name Minnow. I don’t know,” he said with agitation. “Just do it.”
“Speak Algonquin…” Yeshua emphasized, his brow furrowed with annoyance as he mouthed the words.
Yeshua knew the data’s folder organization. Department, Fiscal Year, and then Project.
Yeshua tapped on the first screen: Department: Nocturnal Operations//Date: Fiscal 35//Project… He drew a blank and stopped.
“I don’t know what to enter for project,” he signed to Nico.
“Try Anson or Minnow,” Nico signed back, balancing the flashlight under his chin.
Yeshua first typed Department: Nocturnal Operations//Date: Fiscal 35//Project Anson.
Error 404 No file found.
“Yuha Iyaya,” said Nico. Keep going.
Yeshua quickly entered: Nocturnal Operations//Date: Fiscal 35//Project Minnow. The four screens along the wall lit up, the last two required more access codes. Yeshua looked over at Nico, waving him into the room.
Nico slid under the sensors, his long body stretched over most of the floor. Yeshua pointed at the two screens not requiring further codes. Rows of binary code filled the screen. Nico hands danced over the screen, manipulating the code, enlarging images, and moving sections of one page to another as he scrolled down further.
“Nico, what are you doing?”
Nico ignored him and quickly worked in silence, the floor lights dimmed and the room smelled slightly of iodine. From a distance, the hall lights flickered as the sound of footsteps echoed from down the hallway. A faraway spotlight in the corridor illuminated the figure of a female, increasing Yeshua's uneasiness. The sound of her high heels clicked slowly like the metronome to a waltz.
“Get what we need! Hurry up!” said Yeshua, no longer bothering to speak in Algonquin.
Nico quickly grabbed eyeglasses from his pocket. With each blink of his eyes, a small pin sized camera on the bridge of his nose image-captured the screen. His fingers danced across the two screens as he blinked furiously while the code moved and processed information. In the corner, a small envelope icon danced. He tapped on it, opening the Nocturnal Ops document. “This is it. Let’s go.”
“Did you copy it?”
“Yep,” Nico answered. “I also copied the authorizing signature for Noc Ops Project Minnow. It is signed ‘Tran’.”
“Okay. Let’s bolt.”
The footsteps came closer and faster. The strange young woman wore a fitted white dinner jacket with a black carnation on her lapel. Her unusual long skirts billowed behind her and along the floor with a parasol clipped on her belt. In her right-gloved hand, a brass colored pistol pointed at the floor.
Yeshua and Nico ran to the elevator.
“Nico!” called the woman. “Wait!” The woman had blonde hair held in place with an elaborate pair of goggles. The leather straps intertwined with her hair and braided itself into her upswept hair twist.
Nico turned and froze. “Who are you?”
“Caroline. Caroline Ratcliffe,” she answered in a very formal British accent. “I am the Prime Minister’s daughter.”
“What? There’s no way. Nico, this is a set-up by Omni.” Yeshua backed up further towards the elevator and pulled a miniaturized stun gun from his back pocket.
“Don’t,” said Caroline, holding both hands in the air. “I came here to help you get out. And also, this is very important, when the time comes, protect Josephine.”
“Josephine?” asked Yeshua. “Who is that?”
“The daughter of the Luddite?” answered Nico. “From the past?”
“Yeshua,” insisted Caroline, “especially you, watch out for her.”
“I don’t know what you are talking about. Who are you, really? How did you get in here?”
“You will come to see me soon enough, but I won’t know you. Give me this when you come, so I might recognize you as friends.” She handed Nico a small cameo brooch.
Nico and Yeshua exchanged confused glances. “Go out the west exit,” she continued. “There are security mobiles at the other three exits, I disabled the fourth. All monitors in the city are on alert. I shot out the west exit monitors and all monitors along the west side of the city. It will be your only safe egress.”
Nico and Yeshua stood silently; they listened to the strange girl who understood the urgency of their situation. “Go directly off grid,” she commanded. “Be quick and good luck, there is no room for error.”
YESHUA AND NICO ran into the diner in the old theatre district. Now occupied by rejects, the artistic district thrived with boisterous talent and mental illness.
“Grab the table in the back,” said Yeshua. Nico pulled out his image-capture eyeglasses and a small printer, narrow and long like a children’s 12-inch ruler. Nico stared out the window, red streaks across the horizon hung above the fusion plant. The street was almost empty, only a few dark clothed morning stragglers wandered about the zone.
The papers printed quickly as Nico entered the code into the side of his glasses. “Here. Look at this. Project Minnow.”
“Signed off by a man named only ‘Tran,’ Head of Nocturnal Operations,” observed Yeshua. “This document states Omni is to provide Minnow with psychotropic drugs to contain her.”
“Told you, man,” said Nico, breathless and agitated. His feet tapped on the floor and his fingers played with his stylus like a baton twirler. “It’s not good. They are keeping her addicted so she’ll eventually OD.”
“You’re paranoid.” Yeshua couldn’t believe what he read. He looked out the window at a grim but colorful housing project, sprayed in rainbow graffiti. Plywood walls separated the yards and iron bars covered the lower level windows.
“It’s in black and white.”
“It says Minnow tried to take down the grid in 2136. That’s 2 years from now. So Omni is trying another alternate history? By drugging her?”
“Looks like it. We have to beat them to the change.”
“How?”
“Get Minnow off drugs and go re-set the past.”
“How?”
“Like a chess game. We need to set up our players for the match.”
“How?”
“We’ll start with Caroline.”
Omni
November 2134
Minnow chose the table for its view. She watched everyone, trying to find the delivery. The color quietly faded from the late autumn streets as the working drones and mindless shoppers still rushed back and forth. Dashing and blurring by, their movements could be broken down into a simple series of form, color, and data. Minnow rested her head against the window. She stretched out her arms on the yellow speckled Formica table, feeling how the table’s surface warped and curved underneath her pale skin. The jagged edges cracked and peeled under her fingers as she inadvertently knocked over the saltshaker. Its silver cap, dented and clogged, held back the spill. Minnow felt like the salt - trapped, sideways, and broken.
“What’s up today?” asked Dot, the only waitress. “What can I get you?” Her eyes, bloodshot and a muddy blue, looked out of the window as she spoke to Minnow. “Wake up honey, no one sleeps here. I’ll grab you some coffee, it’ll set you right up.” She winked and rubbed her nose with her stylus.
“Any cherry pie today?” Minnow asked.
“I’ll check.” Dot t
apped her stylus on her menu pad. “You’re in luck. Two slices left.” She slung a brightly bleached coffee mug on the table, startling Minnow. She quickly reached to steady its spin. The outside of the mug shined a gleaming white while the inside was stained with miniscule blackened cracks that snaked along its sides. Minnow held the cup and nodded. Dot poured the thick, steaming brew but stopped as she approached three quarters of a cup full. “Room for your extra cream.”
“Not today. Just sugar.”
“What? People don’t go switching around how they take their coffee. It’s the one thing you can count on. Maybe I should worry about you,” she joked. “I’ll top it off then.”
Minnow noticed someone else’s lipstick still clinging, red and smeared, around the cup’s rim. Dot grabbed a bar rag tucked in her skirt and wiped it off.
“It’s hot, honey,” the waitress continued. “It’s not the finest brew, but it’s piping.”
“It’s going to take more than a gallon of this black tar to keep me going,” said Minnow.
“You’re a student, right?” Dot’s voice suddenly spoke in a flat monotone, with no affect.
“Sort of.”
“Make sure you floss your teeth. Students keep irregular hours and now's the time to maintain your good oral hygiene. Your teeth will last a lifetime, but only if you floss.”
Minnow rolled her eyes and looked outside, aware of Omni’s message to her through Dot’s feed. She managed a nod.
The back of the diner was grimy with old brown grease congealing along the walls; three Hispanic cooks dripped with sweat and hostility. Around her, the tables and chairs crowded together in a crooked maze. “Like my mind,” she whispered into her coffee.
“Key lime pie?” the waitress asked, confused.
“Nope. I’m just talking to myself.”
“People who talk to themselves are crazy.”
Minnow fingered her cup; she held it steady and carefully controlled. Traffic slowed on the streets while the bicycle messengers whizzed through.
On the other side of the window, people continued to dash and bump into each other, separate parts of a mindless whole, all part of the intercourse of the street. Everyone scurried, everything important. As if their actions had the slightest significance, she thought. Then Minnow saw him, passing in an open-topped auto. He looked comfortable, leaning back on the passenger side, the wind pushing his hair, sunglasses on his forehead.