Cynetic Wolf

by Matt Ward

  Time slowed as his body flew through the air, arms flailing. He slammed into the side and the handles slid for a second. Somehow, the grips held and despite penduluming from side to side, he stabilized.

  I leapt a second later, terrified and wired like never before. My arms braced for impact, felt the wind, and adjusted as I flew. The hum of crickets, the beating of my heart, the vibration of the train—everything in an instant as I inched across the chasm.

  Flexing my hands as the handles struck, my legs slammed into the train below. Squeezing harder, I forced myself upward and before I knew it, was atop the train, lying next to Lars in a daze.

  “Good work, kid.” A shocked, boyish grin blanketed his stunned face. “I can’t believe it worked.”

  “We need to get inside,” I said. “I researched the train. Compartments fifteen through fifty-nine are freight, the two external doors are at thirty and fifty. We’re close to forty-five. That makes backward our best bet.”

  “Good work, kid, but you didn’t know what train we’d be on. When’d you look this up?”

  “Just now.”

  His eyes widened. “What? That was three seconds at most.”

  Was it? It felt like ages. “I don’t know. It doesn’t matter now. Let’s move before there’s a tunnel.”

  I crawled backward, holding on for dear life, and he followed. We were doing a hundred at this point, and accelerating, even blurring past. At fifty, I went over the edge and flipped onto the grated platform entrance. Solid ground, thank you.

  Of course, the huge metal door was locked.

  Lars messed with the handle while I researched train specs. He was smart enough not to touch the keypad or fingerprint sensor.

  After twenty minutes, I had it. “Every lev comes hardcoded with one of four predetermined passcodes. Must not be too worried about theft...”

  Glossing over the details, I said, “Someone found a bug but the company was too lazy to fix it. Never even noticed the post. Four options, but we only get three tries before it triggers the alarm. So, we have two tries, a fifty-fifty chance. If we don’t get it with the first two, we’re out here for the trip and jump when we get closer.”

  “What are the codes?”

  I reopened the post. “9927, 1430, 1173 and 5158.”

  “Nine-nine-two-seven,” Lars repeated, punching in the code. A red light flashed on the touchscreen pad. “Crap, nothing.”

  “Wait, wait. Let me think!” Is there anything we’re missing?

  “We’re lucky,” Lars said. “It’s three hours with no stops. It’s the boonies between here and Mile High.”

  “Let’s try one more.” What could it hurt?

  “You do it, kid. My luck’s worn out.”

  “Like mine’s better? Remember the week I’ve had.” I smiled despite myself and typed in 5158.

  Ding. The keypad flashed green this time. It worked! Laughing, I opened the door and Lars clapped me on the back.

  Inside was a spartan interior, basic holding docks lined with rows of biorecycled boxes, each sporting micro scanner codes on all sides. Some had logos too, massive State-Owned Enterprises (SOEs) like United Comms Co, United Energy, United Digital Industries, WNN and the World Bank. A few smaller corporations as well: The Everything Store, Europa Auto and RP1, leading legal producer of VR headsets and content worldwide.

  We could steal stuff for the poor towns... but we had bigger fish to fry.

  Sitting in the corner, Lars told me about his childhood as the son of a poor urban family. His schools were filthy and his parents worked from 7:00 to 19:00 Monday to Saturday in a VR factory, one week vacation a year. His mom died of heat stroke one summer. The factory owner wasn’t willing to pay for air conditioning. Life sucked after that, and his dad struggled to put food on the table. Sounded rough. How could someone who’d been through so much be so happy, or at least content? Was it a facade?

  The story turned violent: riots, police dogs, tasers. Lars’ neighbor was killed in a protest, crushed by a tank. Most protesters were rounded up and shot. GDR couldn’t risk news of the riots spreading. Only thirty years ago and I’d never heard about it. It was erased from history.

  “One day they came for Dad,” Lars said in a hushed voice. “Three troopers kicked down the door, said he was guilty of treason. I was under the bed, hiding. He’d sent me when he heard the knock, knew it wasn’t safe. Dad went without a fight, wanted them out of our apartment. He wanted to protect me.” His eyes glistened and he swallowed hard. “I could have saved him. I should have saved him.” Tears covered the strong man’s face and he looked away, embarrassed.

  I put my arm around him—the big guy I’d met not two days earlier—without saying a word. I understood, I’d failed too. Every animote had a similar story, everyone. We sat for a while and I lost track of time. Eventually, Lars dozed off and I stood, stretching. I had to think.

  Mom and Vynce popped into my head. What had happened to them? And Elly and Merie... There was Professor Ivey, tied to a chair, her face decimated. Even in Caen, the homeless animotes and pseudo-slaves. The world was cruel and broken.

  My thoughts shifted to the Initiative. I pictured Fitz and Lars and Paer fighting the government, Fitz’s wife being gunned down. The burning hate in Lilia’s eyes, the pain in Fitz’s.

  Every resistance fighter must have a similar story, something that pushed them over the edge. So much pain and suffering. Who was I to deny all that? Who was I to hold them back? I could change things, couldn’t I? Or at least try. I had to. I had to do something. It wasn’t fate, it was more than that. Purpose, maybe?

  No more running. No more hiding. No more! I’d do whatever it takes.

  It was time!

  30

  Practice And Purpose

  When Lars awoke, I told him we had to go back. “We’re not going to Zone Three.” I stared him down and dared him to challenge me. “This is my fight, whether I like it or not.”

  “We’re going, kid. This better not be about me.” He shook his head. “You’re not dying for me, I won’t have that on my hands.”

  “This isn’t about you! Heck, this isn’t even about me. It’s about all of us. Ending suffering. My mind’s set, there’s nothing you can do to change it.” I softened my voice. It’s not like I was angry with him. It was the world. “I can’t ask you to come with me, it wouldn’t be fair.”

  He smiled and rolled his eyes. “You’re funny, kid. I’m coming with you. You know that, right? So, what’s the plan?”

  I smiled despite myself, couldn’t help it. Knew I liked this guy. “We’re on this until Mile High. You said you could teach me to fight, and military strategy.”

  “I don’t have contacts in Mile High anymore. You need to find us a place.”

  “On it.” I opened a connection, focusing.

  Lars tackled me into a headlock.

  “What are you doing?” I gagged.

  “Training,” he replied. “You’re not safe, now or ever! You always have to be alert, even multi-tasking.”

  “Easy for you to say,” I grumbled. “You’re not searching for a cabin in the woods.” I spun my hips and flipped him off me.

  He reversed grip, pinning my back and slapped me. “Focus.”

  “I am, damn it.”

  “Restart that sequence,” he said. “This time, deactivate your cybernetics. I want to fight on the same level. Your technique needs work, and your speed and strength let you compensate, but slow your development.”

  It took five minutes, but, after playing around, I managed to disable my enhancements while retaining my connection and augmented visuals.

  We drilled another hour, Lars always besting me and making us repeat the situation. When we were finished, I was drenched, dead tired, and ready to collapse.

  I reactivated my system, and my body came to life again. Phew...

  Lars massaged his leg, groaning. “Find a place?”

  I had, and sent him details.

  He grabbed a fanc
y black band and strapped it to his wrist. A virtual screen appeared with Lars’ operating system.

  Within forty seconds, he had the rental open and activated a strange portal. Several encryption and geo-altering protocols later, a banking interface. He had 12,108 units of some currency I’d never heard of, and counted a month’s rent, eighty-eight of them.

  A motion of his pinkie, and the funds were in the seller’s account. “Housing’s taken care of.”

  “What was that?” I leaned closer as he closed it and cleared his history.

  “That old thing?” he said. “That’s TOR4, fourth iteration of the dark web.” He must have seen my confusion. “So governments and corporations can’t spy on you, where people that don’t want to be found transact in goods and services that aren’t exactly legal.”

  Cool. “The GDR allows that?”

  “Of course not. It’s illegal. Problem is, it’s open-source and run by thousands of volunteers worldwide. Started as a government project but today it’s used by the Initiative, hackers and other dissidents to avoid detection.”

  “Never heard of it.”

  He grinned. “I’ll show you later, now’s not the time.”

  I pulled up GPS; he was right. “We’re about five hundred kilometers out. We should get ready. Grab your stuff.”

  On the platform, the train jolted, slowing at an impossible rate. Within thirty seconds, we were down to forty kilometers per hour. It felt fast, but wouldn’t get slower until we reached the city center.

  At a small hill overlooking the city, we dove, tumbling hard and rolling but none the worse for wear.

  After brushing ourselves off, Lars told me about an old military base east of the city he’d bombed back in the day. “Met a girl too. Spent some time here. She had a little crazy in her!” His longing eyes were far off. “Don’t know what happened to Gema. Think she moved back east.” He shook his head with a sigh.

  Another news story broke as we reached Bear Creek Lake Park, a DNS raid in Broag. ‘Two officers were killed in addition to thirty-five rebels,’ said the obnoxious Peter Gruy. ‘Police took another ten into custody and will be interrogating and prosecuting to the fullest extent of the law as outlined in the Anti-Terror and Espionage Act of 2069.’

  I clicked off and told Lars.

  “Hope they’re still on a need to know basis,” he said. That made two of us.

  It got nicer and nicer as we got closer, and when we reached the park, I knew it was perfect. Wild and free. We hadn’t seen a person in ages.

  The smell of pine trees and needles, nearby maple, and fresh snow brought me back to better times. This was my element.

  Even Lars peered at the sky, watching birds soar, and took a deep breath. “You forget how beautiful it all is sometimes, living in the city I mean. Out here, I could get used to this.”

  We followed the GPS to the cabin and found it after a bit of meandering. It was hidden in a clearing off the beaten path and looked like an old rangers’ cabin: tiny and rustic, even a real brick chimney.

  Climbing rickety stairs, Lars grabbed his band and scanned the red door’s metallic sensor. The system verified and unlocked.

  Inside was nothing special, a basic log cabin with several biofabbed additions off the main living area. Small and cozy, with a bearskin covering the floor. For some reason—maybe the worn couch and general open layout—it reminded me of home. I activated the fire while Lars unpacked, surveying the surroundings.

  Taking remote sensors like Fitz had had, he trudged to the door. “I’ll be back, kid. Pick a bed.”

  The first bedroom was cramped, three meters by three, with a window in the far right for afternoon sunlight which spilled through frosted glass, illuminating the wooden bed. A knitted blanket lay folded, a wolf on a sharp outcrop of rock. Talk about a sign. I tossed my bag on the bed. This was perfect.

  After relieving myself in the cramped toilet, I checked the kitchen. It wasn’t much. Oven, stove, and not a whole lot else. Outside was a firepit, and I was looking forward to hunting.

  Putting away what little food we had left, I realized Lars wasn’t back. Odd.

  If I had free time, I should research the GDR. If we were going to fight and win, I had to know my enemy. I knew the basics, but not much behind the scenes. It had always been a colossal, faceless organization, the Global Democratic Republic. Its five leaders were known as the Board: the Ministers of Security, Commerce, Education, Infrastructure, and Intelligence, and, together, they decided the actions of the entire government.

  Three emulates and two cynetics, and not an enhancer or animote in sight. The Minister of Security was Calter Fury, a cynetic who’d risen through military and DNS hierarchy to become the government’s chief enforcer, earning a ruthless reputation of upholding justice to the fullest extent of the law, often exceeding it.

  He was the most hated man in the world, at least among animotes—despite being loved by elites—thanks to increasing military and police presence in the towns and cracking down on anything viewed as free thought or counterculture.

  Next was Minister of Commerce, Jean Gileu, who’d built a thriving biotech business commercializing many of the technologies and genetic patents of today’s enhancers. He’d entered politics, become one of the first emulates, and later gained control of most surrogate factories. Prick shut them down to prevent others from joining the club.

  Lin Zu was the new kid on the Board, responsible for the future workforce. Citing the need for disparity, she poured resources and energy into already thriving elite schools, cutting funding to ours.

  Her election had turned the tide in favor of the emulates, who now controlled the Board three-to-two over their cynetic rivals. In reality, they got along, but there was an ever-present tension.

  The door opened. Lars stomped in and snow fell from his jacket and pants as he kicked his boots on the mat.

  “There you are!” I exclaimed. “Did you get lost? Took you long enough.”

  “What are you talking about, kid? It’s been what, three, maybe five minutes…”

  “Five minutes, as if… it’s been—” I checked my OS. “Four minutes thirty-seven seconds.” No way. My jaw dropped. “Wow, feels way longer.” I told him what I’d found.

  “Interesting,” he said when I finished. “All that in five minutes? Plus you stole the good room.” He raised an eyebrow. “Sure you didn’t learn this in school?”

  I shook my head.

  Lars nodded, considering. “You might have paralleosis,” he said at last. He must have sensed my uneasiness because he added, “It’s not bad, it’s great actually, a rare ability. Only a fraction of cynetics have paralleosis, the ability to process multiple streams of information at once, like overclocking your processor. Your brain and hardware run at superhuman levels thanks to nanoSTEM integration with your brain’s neural architecture, but paralleosis is a special mutation. Your biomechanical brain can hyper parallel process.”

  Say what?

  “If I’m not mistaken,” he said, “your brain reads and understands multiple things at once. You’re reading two, three, as many as five or ten sentences at once. That’s how you read all that in three minutes.” He stared. “Ever noticed anything like this before?”

  Um, no... “I like reading but was never what you’d call fast.”

  “Interesting. Okay, kid, I want you to read something and summarize it for me. You know Nelson Mandela?”

  “Never heard of him.”

  “Tell me what you find, not word for word, but a summary of the important points. In your own words.” He walked into the kitchen and turned on the cheap coffee maker.

  I followed him.

  “Mandela was one of the most important and influential people in human history. He was a nonviolent, anti-apartheid leader and politician in South Africa before being imprisoned for twenty-seven years on trumped-up political charges. Later, he was freed and became President of South Africa, tackling racism while trying to unify the racial diffe
rences in the country, which were enormous.” I rattled off other achievements and such. “Seems like a cool guy.”

  “You got all that just now?” He sounded skeptical. “You didn’t learn about him in school?”

  “Are you kidding?” I laughed. “They’d never teach us about insurgencies or fighting oppression. That’s their worst nightmare.”

  “Fair point. I guess you have the mutation. Not sure what we do with that...” After checking the coffee maker—which was only half done—he told me about the tracks he’d spotted. There was a ton of game to be had.

  But I wasn’t interested in hunting right now, I wanted to fight. He’d kicked my butt and I had a ton to learn.

  “So, when do we start?” I asked.

  He chuckled. “Patience, Raek, patience. There’s only so much this old body can handle. There’s a lot we need to work on. In fact, most is mental, not physical. If you have to fight, you’ve already failed,” he added in a serious tone. “Our goal is to avoid combat or make victory inevitable. Do you follow?”

  I nodded.

  “The most important rule of politics and war is to anticipate your opponent. If you know what they’ll do before they do it, you gain the upper hand. The second rule, be unpredictable. That’s how we accomplished so much with such small numbers. We planned, attacked, and escaped, all while minimizing risk. We knew where their men would be, where they were weakest, and how they’d respond.”

  “Let’s see about coffee.” He grabbed two mugs from the drawer. “You need experience. Short of that, we can run simulations of what could happen, what could go wrong. For instance, let’s say the DNS found out we were in this cabin. What would they do?”

  I shrugged. “How would I know?”

  He stared at me, not blinking.

  “Well,” I said after a moment, “they’d send a few VTOLs, at least a patrol. Maybe even a platoon. They’d want to get here as fast as possible, so they’d contact the nearest military base.”

  “Where’s that?”

  Shoot. “I, I don’t know.”