Remember

by Karthikeyan, Girish

  "How was it? I just pulled you out."

  "It was so amazing. How do I make one, for my class?" The breathlessness of awe proves hard to shake.

  A shoulder pat descending, more than verbal acceptance is required for taking control. "Okay, you can find one from another creator or make your own."

  "Where can I find ones from others?"

  "Let me just get the address…” A small card waits on the desk. “There you are. This one contains a cell-by-cell model of various organisms. Just use the sim you’re interested in."

  I grab the card that isn’t really there, but looks and feels like it is. Pocketing the card adds the info to my tech. "That seems to encompassing. Customization?"

  "Yes, the thing is most sims have so much data, you would spend most of the time deleting stuff. It sounds counter-intuitive, but starting from scratch, much easier. Go back to the home and start drawing." She pulls up the matching site or I do.

  I start drawing a stick image of a neuron, something T-shaped. Detail piles on surreptitiously. Claire startles with her silent motion to right by me. She must be doing it. After the drawing stops, the computer fills in some more detail. I become comfortable being so close to her.

  Claire sits on the side edge of the desk in front of me. "Sorry, you were just doing a terrible job drawing. I had to take over. The computer will give you a few different interpretations. With an obscure drawing like yours, the possibilities are just numerous."

  "What else can I add?" I move the mouse around the picture on the screen.

  "Pretty much anything. Like outside stimulation, environmental factors, and cosmetic changes." She tilts her head back during the clinical recitation.

  "I can draw those, also?" Less excitement please.

  "I would advise against that. The truth is your skill struggles for borderline. Do as much text input as possible." She presses a button on the edge of the desk for a keyboard to rise above the surface.

  "Thanks for the help." I stand up and we move back to the counter.

  "As much as I know you, this surely won't be the last time." The confidence of her words turns almost prophetic.

  "Do you want to go out sometime, as friends/co-workers?" An air slash, really?

  "Sure, just not tonight, okay." She guides me out with my hand.

  "No worries."

  Mental log of Agent 7429

  Fri 6/16/17 12:03 Midnight

  A:

  Ready to start briefing 3 on mission 62.

  R:

  Proceed Agent.

  A:

  Stage 7 completed. We searched the residence of Mr. Abby. He was away on a trip, the perfect time. Monitoring devices planted.

  R:

  Good work. Does the target have any additional suspicions of his origins?

  A:

  Yes, observed using the outdoor office space.

  R:

  As predicted by our Sci. dept.?

  A:

  Yes, no other signs manifested, yet.

  R:

  Good work. Implement contingency B.

  A:

  Yes, observe and report.

  R:

  All set?

  A:

  End.

  A:

  I discovered a psychological inventory a few days ago, which doesn't make much sense. The target of inquiry isn't a terrorist, wanted criminal, and he acts perfectly normal. The inquiry mentioned something about feeling at ease outdoors and the need for new experiences. Then, why not, use sims? This interferes with the need for "real life" experience that he possesses.

  There is something that comes to mind, he's an "albino" — one of the few genetic anomalies allowed through screenings. That explains why he finished the mission. People with allowed anomalies have some issues passing as us, some restraint that causes issues. They should have recruited him years before to a training facility, not this… off the cuff monitoring and prodding for results. Any theories I have come up with, leaves gaping holes. What am I missing?

  Complications

  Dead Drop

  Tues 7/11/17 7:37 a.m.

  The coffee shop sits just meters away with the supplies. Just sitting at a table doing nothing attracts too much unwanted attention. What I need is a drink. Drinking alcohol at this time looks odd, just past 7:30 in the morning. What about just a macchiato? Difference between alcohol and coffee? I just missed the obvious, coffee acts a stimulant, what I need is a depressant, like alcohol. What can I have at a coffee shop to stay calm on the mission? I'm not even going to try the more exotic stuff freely available. Tea offers some calming effects, right? It doesn't matter, now. I avoid anything else. I just had a full breakfast in my apartment.

  I order tea and wait for it to come. Someone comes holding a strange kettle, a long clear spout filled with tealeaves. The water takes just 30 secs to reach the spout but it seems forever. Once the cup fills, the tea stops flowing. I get my cup and saucer, make the usual stop at the milk and sugar station, and the news waits as always. All set to go to the table with the red rose.

  Where is that red rose? At least three other tables hold red flowers. Which flower is a rose? From a distance, they look the same. Even the tech zoom doesn't help or provide identification. I go near each of the tables. The first one appears too irregular for a rose and simple with a cup shape. The next one flattens out with too many petals, so not a rose. I take a sip of the tea and just wander around looking. The last one looks right. The flower features out-turned petals, just not too many. It isn't flat, and any thorns hide in the vase. I take a seat at the right table, reach underneath, and grab the bundle wrapped in tape stuck there. Without even looking it enters my pocket. Conspicuousness of grabbing something under a table and studying it invades my thoughts. I keep drinking my tea and look at the news.

  DEBATE'S ANTICLIMATIC END HIGHLIGHTS PM'S PRACTICAL MISMANAGEMENT

  Debate over the Mandatory Tech Registration Act expected to ensue over the coming months ended within the Governing Group of Citizens (GGC). The opposition to the Act died down after Sylvia Turnbuckle, a well-known member of the Deep Thinkers Movement (DTM), chose to stop supporting it.

  She had this to say Saturday. "It was as if in a dream, I realized my support of this Act erred. Supporters may say 'Just those on the wrong side of the law need to be concerned with this Act.' I ardently disagree.

  Memory wipe and recover shows us that nearly 10% of convictions implicate innocents. This is just unacceptable. This act is of consequence to every citizen.

  We at the Deep Thinkers Movement take a week or two to mull over choices. Unfortunately, in a world of instant gratification that isn't always possible. I like to think citizens value making a good choice when it counts."

  Thomas Winters of Knowledge on Everything (KOE) had a response that very same evening. He said, "I applaud Mrs. Turnbuckle's effort to make good decisions. We at Knowledge on Everything believe political figures should have knowledge on a wide range of issues. This allows us to make good choices, when it counts. This time Mrs. Turnbuckle had time to come to a good decision. Is this going to be the case, next time?"

  PM Dominic Wilson got a lot of flak recently regarding this decision. Over the span of his term, he failed to step in when needed. The debate over mandatory tech offered a perfect example. He vouched for this reform many times in the past. Yet, when it came up for debate, there was a deafening silence from the PM's office. Critics and supporters, alike, found this difficult to comprehend. Something has to change soon for business to continue as usual. Can he recover from this ongoing issue?

  He had a follow-up statement just yesterday. "This Act is crucial in the pursuit of justice. On average, the closure time in most cases exceeds 2 months. This Act would greatly reduce that time. In addition, 15% of all cases go unsolved; the most likely suspect did not commit the crime. Giving government security more tools in their struggle against crime and corruption is the right course of action. The GGC's ignorance of the real world is astou
nding. This Act is inexorably heading towards becoming law. Each time it is brought up for consideration, the debate lasts longer. It is going to be passed in due course."

  The final vote has been scheduled for tomorrow — just a formality, at this point. Questions about the PM linger. It doesn't look like he is to survive reelection in one piece. For more in depth analysis and continuing coverage visit us at Omnipresent News.

  I finish that long-winded article with more quotes than anything, take my empty teacup, and pad with me. They have surfaces to keep the cup and one for the saucer. I put the dirty dishes where they belong. The surfaces retreat in after receiving this cargo. I go to the fifth floor conference room.

  Seeing a pad on the table, I take it. It shows info about different servers with a work order for my cover — servicing the organo-server downstairs. I go down there to visit Zensation. The server room hides directly down within the Institute building, unlike that oriental eatery. I unwrap everything from the drop and hold my pad over the node to show the id inside. The cover id, Otto Yenta looks just like me. Actually, a picture of me.

  Where to stick the node? Good it features a start button. I should keep it under my sleeve above the elbow, and trigger it by crossing my arms. Apply the node in that place. Pocketing the injector leaves my hands free for both pads. It’s time to start the mission.

  Gun Shy

  Tues 7/11/17 8:05 a.m.

  I walk down the hallway just outside the conference room and keep thinking about what can go wrong, which I just can't stop thinking about. What is the worst thing that can happen? I lose my job and go to prison. How am I going to do this? I stop in the hallway with my hands clenched around the rolled up pad. I try to stay calm, just take a few minutes. Something needs to keep my mind otherwise occupied. Looking through the pad occurs to me. The simple task of wresting my hands free requires pure concentration. The blood returns with a shake of each hand. The maddening worrisome thoughts return in that moment.

  What about cams? How to escape their gaze? I pretend to read. All the cams look down. An angled down face escapes view. The facial id now links to this body and clothes. They can easily follow me around even without seeing my face. Returning to the conference room and starting again follows this logic. The cams loose visual contact and the id, maybe. I do just that.

  The pad contains tech data on various servers. The work order lists target values. Routine maintenance fills the bottom half. The server uses a redundant subsystem. I turn on the subsystem and put the main system into maintenance mode. It cleans itself. I just monitor everything. A drainage system clog could add some complications.

  I make it to the elevators with the distraction working well and take a deep breath before pressing basement. Crossing my arms positions my fingers near the node. The thoughts start creeping back. What could go wrong? I simply lose my way to the server room, get stopped by someone who knows me, or get caught in the server room. Just abort, if issues crop up. What happens when they catch me? The Division finds a way to get me out. I take a deep breath, almost time to get off.

  Next to the buttons, a screen shows the elevator's position as it moves up and down a pictogram of the Institute. The elevator passes the first floor. I press the node and uncross. The server room door waits just to the left in the basement. I duck into the room. The entrance recognizes the new id and allows me in.

  Another set of doors — clear, except for three stripes that say SERVER meet me. Through the doors, two big — I guess you could say floor to ceiling pools — hold reddish liquid suspending metallic structures, the organo-server. The passageway lights up green from the ceiling and expands down along the walls. The light just adds effect for something done beyond my vision.

  The doors open as a disembodied voice speaks. Otto Yenta, you have passed the safety scan. You are cleared for entry. The computer setup on the edge of the pool invites me to it. A row of nozzles nearby offers connections to add stuff into the server pool. I open the status panel on the computer and see graphs for the various environmental conditions over time. Each one shows an accompanying bar for the current value.

  I change the status bars to the values from the work order. The computer tells me how much to add for each set value. I look for the stuff to add. A collection of compartments covers the right wall. Remember how much of each: 15 ml saline… Each bin marks the solution and quantity. A combination of supplies fit the additions. I take the stuff to the computer, connect the tech injector and three other syringes, and select inject. A press on the tech injector releases the content.

  The injection process attracts attention. Little arms (with the hands of a person and bot) extend out and pull a small dial on the outside of each syringe making slow progress. I see what else needs doing. Start clean out process on circulation pump. I walk almost completely around the server looking for it. Right where it connects to the other tank a small bench holds the pump and a backup. I turn on the backup and put the primary into maintenance mode.

  Everything finishes with the additions. I take off the empty ones and press the switch on the tech injector. It fills up and returns to my pocket. I head through the security door. A cam right on the hallway door spots me, shoot. Leave calmly as possible. The conference room beckons return of the equipment. Almost forget, take off the node in the elevator. I can't risk the cams catching me again.

  The conference room stays the same as when I left. The requested data appears on my tech. I put the tech injector on the table, along with Otto's pad and the tech node. Scanning the supplies reveals all the data wiped, just in case some of this stuff gets into someone’s hands. My pad acts as a backup.

  Looking for Something?

  Tues 7/11/17 8:42 a.m.

  Somehow, I end up in Claire's office, not sure why I'm watching her closely inspect the glass surface of her desk. The apartment proves a better place for decompressing after a stressful morning. Exact opposite here. When we occupy the same room without any buffers, long, drawn out arguments ensue. I just need to leave and go home. I do just that.

  "Hold on a sec, Conor," Claire says suddenly.

  I stop and look back. What does she want with me? "Sure." I turn around and approach the counter.

  Claire steps off the stool with one foot on the foot bar. "I have a quick question for you. Where did you disappear off to before work? We usually come here, at the same time, just not some days. What did you do, anyway?" She stops the rolling-chair stool from spinning with one hand. She has a black sweater with lines across the bottom half.

  I press my palms into the counter dividing us. "Not that it is any of your business, but I just had a rough time sleeping. I go down to the coffee shop to get a wakeup call, as in coffee."

  She bites the edge of her bottom lip. "I never drink that stuff. I'm more into yoga. It wakes me up, every time."

  “Yoga?" Claire looks thin in a healthy way everywhere. Not that I’m complaining, but she doesn’t look the part of a yogi I would trust.

  She looks through me at something and keeps talking. "You know, you get into a pose that makes it harder to breathe. With enough practice you are able to focus on your breathing in any position."

  I try annoying her for some reaction with brutal honesty. "I've never believed in all that Eastern Voodoo. I'm not going to start now."

  She stares, trying to believe what I just said. "I just can't listen to you, sometimes. You are sticking with an archaic Eurocentric view?"

  I pull a little away for my next salvo. "Oh, sorry about that. I don't believe in meditation, yoga, or Thai Chi."

  She takes a big breath. "Why do you go down to drink such an expensive cup of just coffee."

  Claire just forgot about the whole mediation discussion? It must still bother her as we never reached a conclusion in any of our other arguments. "It isn't coffee, thank you very much. I happen to drink a latte."

  She nods over expressively. "Isn’t that a heavily watered down version of an espresso?"

  So she
does know about coffee. "It's what I like with my issue of Omnipresent News."

  She searches the drawers of her desk looking for something. "That newspaper is frontloaded with political puff pieces. Any serious news is buried in the last pages."

  "What do you suggest I should read, if not Omnipresent?" I feel nothing I say works for Claire. Why do we even talk about any of this stuff?

  "I read News. It's a smaller newspaper, but it offers much better serious news. You can look at my copy. Here." She hands me a pad from somewhere in the desk cued to a front page article.

  I read through the article it’s open to.

  News

  Mount. Outlook

  Stories without slant, spin, or selective coverage, seriously.

  Fri 8/5/12

  Protest Ends in Confrontation

  The upcoming vote on natural food growth sparks a weeklong protest. The protest concludes as of today, in the governmental district of Mountain Overlook, unfortunately with some injuries. The protesters — based on the ideals of the natural food movement — believe synthetic food harms those whom consume it. Scientific evidence continues to be inconclusive on the subject.

  The act increases the regulations on natural food, mandating further food growth locations from the city proper. Additionally, requires inspecting a greater sample of produce. The governing group cites past food contamination as the reasoning behind this move. Historically a problem, substances unwarranted for consumption end up in food products and cause health issues.

  Injuries result from a sudden movement within the group, unsuspecting bystanders knocked down. The injuries amount to nothing more than a few scrapes and bruises. The security presence intervenes and stops the protest with some force. The ensuing confrontation culminates in an uneasy peace. Both sides sustain injuries.