PROJECT FIVE SQUARED: BOOK ONE
TOTAL SYSTEM FAILURE
JAMES HIGHTOWER
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
PROJECT FIVE SQUARED: BOOK ONE
TOTAL SYSTEM FAILURE
Copyright © 2019 James Hightower
All rights reserved.
The only way to fail at your dreams is to give up.
Chapter 1
“Can I stay at your place tonight?” Alec asked.
Night flanked Domo’s sharp, brown face, masking his expression in sharply angled shadows. His friend’s black leather bomber creaked as he leaned out of the shadows. A dazzling set of teeth materialized, the type of smile that could put anyone at ease. Except Alec. He knew better. This particular smile always preceded bad news. Always.
“Wish I could, man,” Domo said. “But security won’t let you in after ten. They won’t even let me in if I show up plus one.”
It was thirteen minutes after midnight. The demarcation of forest and city loomed like a silent battle front in the distance. Where would he go now?
He coughed, a column of mist vaporizing between them. The frigid air knifed his ribs. If he stood out here another hour, he would be scrapped off the road and sold as packaged meat by morning. He blew into his hands and rubbed them together in vain effort to capture some warmth.
“Couldn’t I just hack the security system?” Alec asked. “Is it hardware or software? Do you know the model?”
“Only you know these kinds of things.” A sudden plume of breath as Domo laughed and slapped his shoulder. “Didn’t you go to the art gallery today? Any thought-provoking critiques on our local hero?”
“Paints like he’s having a stroke,” Alec said, stomping his feet in another attempt to get some warm blood circulating. He blew into his hands a second time. “Are you immune to the cold or what?”
“Leonard is very popular around these parts. No, not immune. Just not a breast-fed southern.”
“Ah, so deprived as a youth, I see.”
Domo shot him a knowing smirk. “Why don’t you want to go home, Alec?”
His stomach twisted. Let’s not talk about this. “Wow, I just moved here, and you already want me to leave?”
His friend shook his head. “You know that’s not what I meant.”
Rounded sensors peppered the black asphalt like orange florescent beetles. In his hometown, the sensors were triangles and on the lampposts. Why did he have to come here? Domo’s neighborhood lit Big Hill like a Christmas tree, the haze crowning the peak in a lavender halo. Alec drove his fists into heated pockets and pretended to scan the rows of much simpler houses below.
“It’s…too late to go back.”
Domo’s body radiated heat as he leaned close. “Sometimes it’s not the place, but the person,” Domo said sagely. “Et in Arcadia ego.”
Before Alec could ask what that meant, a screen corrupted the night with a ghastly sphere of bluish-white light. “Looks like my mom and dad are finally in bed.” Domo extended a fist. “See you tomorrow, man.”
Alec returned the fist-bump. “See ya, D.”
Domo hopped on his hoverboard, the metal slab rumbling to life. “Wish I could help but can’t go around hacking my own security system. Might actually need them one day.”
“I understand,” Alec said and meaning it. “Thanks anyways.”
Domo grabbed his shoulder and squeezed. “Take care of yourself, man.” His friend’s board shimmered like fish scales in a sunlit pool and sprang forward. He did a kick-flip and became a glimmering speck against the black road.
Along the slope of Big Hill, the blocks of residential homes fanned out in conjoining, interlocking grids, dark and brooding and silent. Just beyond the lifeless squares, the city center was the only other source of illumination in this part of town. An all-night diner sat somewhere in that gasp of light. He might be able to buy a coffee and catch a few hours of sleep before tomorrow’s class.
He leapt on his own board and descended. Streetlamps glared down like reprimanding professors. One after another after another. Clusters of trees whisked by as he picked up speed. His figure, a needle-thin apparition cast over leaf and bark, bending along the road. Winter air blistered his cheeks and nose so that by the time the time he arrived at the diner, his nose gushed snot and thick tendrils of it oozed all the way down to his lips.
He scrubbed his face and inserted his hands back into his pockets. There were still lots of people in the diner. An encouraging sign. He neared the door. It didn’t budge. Not so encouraging.
Alec scowled. The diner bustled with activity, everything imbued in a pleasant and warm glow. “Are you still open?”
“No one under the age of twenty-two allowed after midnight,” the door said.
The Quebec accent denoted an older model. “Exception five red zone. Throw twenty-seven.”
“Nice try,” the door said. “That exploit was patched several weeks ago. Have a good night.”
Alec sighed. Older models could be such pains. Against common sense, most newer models had more backdoors and bugs. Older models were more battle tested. He didn’t relish the ride back to home, but he stomped back to his board anyways. He steered with his hands in his pockets, wobbling the whole way.
He lived on a road called Spring Lane. Ironic because he’d yet to see any evidence of spring in this place. Each house was identical to the one across from it, giving the sense that he flew along the crux of parallel dimensions unfolded and laid flat before him on either side. Something flashed across his vision. A cat?
He swerved, barely avoiding a collision. Time slowed as his board jerked sideways and pitched him towards the asphalt. The road rushed up to meet him. Just wonderful. He braced himself for a collision. Instead, Spring Road dissolved, and Alec sailed through in the air, feet kicking, arms flailing and stars swirling and blinking all around him, thousands upon thousands of points poked through the wine-stained sky. Much more than he’d ever seen. Silvery mirror-like obelisks dotted the landscape like monolithic, high-tech spears driven into the ground. Not to be outdone, lush gardens lined the city alongside placid turquoise waterways set in deep trenches. Everywhere the splash of color clashed against one another in a surprising, profound display of beauty. He gawked at the scene’s clarity, but nothing prepared him for what came next.
A golden pyramid dominated the horizon, the enormity of the structure drawing the eye like a neon shirt at a grunge concert. His stomach twisted at the sight. He sensed this was his destination even before whatever the invisible hand arced towards the structure. A sense of power, a whispering of authority and significance emanated from the pyramid. The feeling had nothing to do with the spinning star in miniature at its zenith. Nothing at all.
This was some sort of rendering, but the pixel density and resolution bested anything he’d ever seen on the Net. It looked real, but such a city didn’t exist. Still, Alec couldn’t tear his gaze away from the pyramid as it consumed his vision. Tucked firmly in its Midas embrace, a pang of dread
shot through him. He was being ridiculous. What could possibly happen? Pixels on a screen. Nothing more. Still, the sensation sat like an ulcer in his stomach.
Skimming the surface of the pyramid was not unlike flying over a lake or an ocean. Not a single scratch marred the structure. It looked as if he could reach his hand in and it would disappear beneath a golden liquid.
His heart leapt up his throat as he banked suddenly. A black mouth yawned ahead, before he had time to think, he was through. A chasm then. Several steps inside, warmth folded around him and the strong scent of fire overwhelmed him. The hallway looked cut of solid gold. Arcane scripts were emblazoned all over the walls, the silvery inscriptions reminding him of old computer chip circuits. It was not in any language that Alec recognized. A sense of unease fluttered through him at the sight, despite the letters being the only source of light in the passageway.
A thought slid across his awe like vinegar on water. Whoever designed the video was probably hacking his system at this very moment. Viruses these days could destroy an entire system. He didn’t have the coin for a new one. As amazing as these graphics were, the adventure had to stop here.
He dug in his heels. He continued to drift down the passageway. Maybe even faster now. He raised both hands and swung them in opposite directions as though to tear at the scene in front of him. A soft reboot. It would hurt like mad, but did he have another choice?
Nothing. He blinked and tore at the screen again. Same result, different timestamp. Meanwhile, he continued deeper inside the pyramid at a pace usually reserved for emergency visits to the toilet.
He squeezed his eyes shut, and he said the word that would initiate a hard reboot. If this didn’t work, then he was seriously bugged. Roses.
A sucking sound filled his ears and the texture of his environment changed as though he’d been thrown in a woodchipper minus the pain. The world spun and grinded around him as reality shifted and morphed.
Cold blanketed him, and he knew he was back on Spring Avenue. His jaw was against something hard and even colder. The road? And what was that iron tang in his mouth? He touched his lip. His fingertips came away red. What in the seven cyberhells had happened?
He pushed himself off the freezing asphalt. He worked his jaw and flexed his elbows and fingers. Nothing broken. That was something. The time glowed at the top left corner of his vision. He felt his jaw drop. There must be some mistake. It couldn’t be seventeen minutes after one!
It was impossible, and yet the evidence was right in front of his face. Hadn’t he left Domo over an hour ago? Had he been lying on the road that long? He scanned the dark street. The sensors on the road blinked mindlessly, but there was no sign of people anywhere.
He sighed. He’d gotten lucky. If the wrong person had found him lying there, he would have bigger troubles. His board lay beneath the nearest streetlamp. He limped over and collected it. A quick diagnostic scan revealed no damage to either him or the board. Thank the hacking gods. He didn’t relish walking around everywhere like he was on some luddite pilgrimage.
Still, it felt good to walk the remaining distance. A giant slab of brick that’d gotten in a fight with a much larger and tougher slab of brick, his house stood out like a red middle finger shoved in a plot of green. An identical middle finger squat on the other side of the street. Looking at the two houses made him think of the golden pyramid. Just pixels on a screen, he reminded himself. That was all.
His front door flashed green as it scanned his bio-signature. It beeped red. “I am not permitted to allow you in after midnight,” the door informed him. “Try again at five.”
“Did Tara put you up to this?” Alec balled his hands into fists. He kicked the door. “You can’t bar me from my own house!”
The door chirped, a red beam burning his eyes. “I will not tolerate such treatment. Another act of violence, and I will call the police.”
“Hey!” Alec shielded his eyes at the sudden beam of light, but too late. The door had already counterattacked. “Fine.” He turned back towards the street. He would go back to the diner and figure out a different way to hack the door. There was always a way. It wasn’t like he was breaking into some top-secret lunar base or something.
He froze. His room window should be open. Weeks ago, he’d tinkered with the house system so he could sneak off to one of Domo’s parties. It should still be open.
He darted a poisonous look over his shoulder and stole around the side of his house. The grass crunched beneath his sneakers. If he was quick, he might be able to get into his room and lock the door before Tara arrived.
The backyard was a plain green square plastered in ice. There wasn’t a single flower or tree in sight. Alec frowned up at the window. Unless he gained Spiderman-like abilities, the window might as well be on the two-hundredth floor.
The board’s hard edge knifed at his ribs as he considered the problem. Of course! An idea raced through him with the force of a laser canon. He put the board on the stiff grass and connected with the hoverboard’s system. Navigating through the interface, he injected several lines of code, then stood on the board, hand on the house for balance. All one had to do was tinker with a few variables and settings, and voila! Like magic, instead of moving forward, his board inched skyward when he accelerated.
Just a little bit higher. No, too high. Yes, yes, yes. He fumbled at the window pane. A gust of warm air as he lifted it. His arms trembled with the effort, but eventually he spilled onto carpet. It smelled like dirty laundry. He launched towards the door, but it was already open.
“Alejandro August.”
He flinched. Only one person used his full name like that. If an android could be called a person. His bedroom light sprang to life. His guardian swayed in the doorway. Red face, red hair, red sleeping gown, she could have been a spawn of Satan. And her face? Red as well. Why didn’t he just go back to the diner?
“Do you have any idea what time it is?” Tara demanded in a tone that obviously cared little for the answer.
Alec grappled for an answer. He seized on the strangeness of the golden pyramid video. “My screen, it—”
“I do not care,” Tara cut in. “You have class in less than six hours!”
Alec noticed how filthy his shoes were. Mud caked his soles and what was that on his shoelaces? Disgusting.
Tara’s lean frame radiated heat as she leaned over him. For some reason, she always smelled of coconut oil. “One of the school administrators called. Said you are in real danger of not graduating. What will you do if you don’t finish basic university? Your mother—”
“My mom let me—” Alec said just before his throat swelled. His mother had let him stay out until midnight. He took a deep breath. Far from quelling his rage, the action only condensed and concentrated its virility. “You’re just my guardian! Not my real parent. Get out of my room so I can sleep.”
Tara fist pounded the wall. “You should already be asleep!” Far from being cowed, she quivered with rage. “Access to your games will be shut off for the next week until you learn to follow my rules. If you’re not in bed in five minutes, it will be two weeks.”
He toed mud into the carpet. No games for a week? Well, he would see about that.
“I am not giving up on this family,” Tara said. “Four more months and you are finished. You will be twenty-two this summer.” She sized him for another moment. Alec weathered the attention with the stamina of a boxer on the ropes. He was careful to keep his face devoid of all emotion, but she started up again anyways.
“If you are not home on time tomorrow, I will not rest until I find you. And when I do, missing out on your games will be the least of your troubles. Do you understand?”
Tara didn’t wait for him to agree. She stormed out and stomped down the hallway. Alec shouldered his door shut before the android had a change of heart and returned. He leaned against it, wishing for something thicker than a wooden plank between him and the android.
Their arguments were growing pro
gressively worse. As was his indifference. How many more days could this go on? Cold air gushed from the opened window. He stomped past the stacks of unopened boxes, collected his board outside and slammed the window shut.
The lights snapped off with a thought as he launched himself on the bed. He didn’t even bother taking off his shoes. Enough of today, tomorrow he would investigate origin of the video.
Chapter 2
The real-than-life resolution didn’t lose its luster even after the fifth time. The golden pyramid remained a fixture in his mind. Something about the city nudged at his memory, but he was no closer to a substantial breakthrough. There was no digital signature, no author tag, no file source. It was as though the video didn’t exist.
Alec sat up, leaning against his elbow. Thirty-minutes until your Machine Thinking Class. The notification flashed across his vision in urgent block letters.
He groaned and slid out of his sheets and kicked off his shoes from the night before. Piles of dirty clothes lay strewn across his floor like discarded uniforms of fallen soldiers. He traced around the clothes and into the bathroom where he was taken aback by the deplorable state of his bathroom. Grime, toothpaste and blood blotched his sink in intricate layers would’ve given Jackson Pollock a run for his money. He gurgled water and spat and added to the coating. Art at its finest. Leonard from the local art gallery could’ve learned a thing or two.
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