Mad-Sci-Soc

by Arrand Pritchard

  It occurred to her that Dameon had read more than just her BragBook public profile. How did he know she liked tea and cheese?  But these thoughts were forgotten when Dameon showed her the “blank” carbon-layer outfit that in the pre-fabricated form looked like a black sack. Dameon explained that these were old-model blanks: thicker, heavier and slower to process than the ones seen the previous day.

  The vegetable noodle chow mein arrived. They ate their meal. It was awful. “Thanks,” Terri said with the best smile she could manage.

  Once they finished their food, Dameon started on the jacket. “Just need to hack-up the Harmonics databanks and pull down the design pattern.”

  “Uh... that's illegal.”

  “Only if you get caught. It's a victimless, untraceable crime. Untraceable with our computer, that is. No-one loses anything.”

  “Loss of revenue.”

  “LOL. Well, yes, but since you can't buy it anyway, it is already a loss of revenue. They should be paying a glamorous girl like you for advertising their clothes.”

  “I’m sure that wouldn’t be their opinion when they find out.”

  “They won’t find out. We have a fool-proof mechanism for flossing the Harmonics' network,” he confided.

  “You do?” asked Terri wide-eyed.

  “Yeah. The University is funding a super computer that steamrollers encrypted networks like they are pastry.”

  “They have?”

  “A Quantum-powered Super Computer.”

  Terri nodded knowingly.

  (As an aside, there are only about 50 of Quantum Super Computers in the world. Super fast, super powerful; the last and biggest one built provided all the brain power for the latest generation androids all over the world. The only trouble is their size. While such computers work on a sub-atomic scale, the components have to be frozen to near absolute zero and they occupy a space the size of a football pitch. This is known to be true because the University computer occupied the site of the old Columbia football ground. Despite the improvements in the football association augmented reality facilities, the loss of the university team's pitch could be considered another battle won for the Nerds in their old war against the Jocks.)

  Both Terri and Dameon donned immersive headsets to explore super computer’s abstract and mainly empty virtual world it was unlike the vibrant and shimmering virtual worlds she was accustomed to. He explained how the university supercomputer worked while gesturing at a virtual holo-screen. With no apparent effort at all, he accessed the supercomputer and directed it at the Harmonics network represented as a wire-frame doorway. He used a holographic hand on the holographic door handle and gained access to their workshop files. Terri tried to curb her elation of this illicit activity.

  Inside virtual folders, they found her jacket pattern and started the download. Back in the real world Dameon started the manufacture process.

  Terri was scared but also excited by the prospect of wearing the Harmonics fabricated jacket.

  “It's going to take a while and I was thinking, do you want er... to make out?” crooned Dameon.

  Terri smiled. “Sure,” she said. She had reached Level 7 intimacy with her Replicant Tutor, she was sure it would be even more fun with a real boy.

  “Ok,” said Dameon. Let's go to the bedroom.”

  “Level 6, only,” said Terri.

  Daemon laughed with no mirth. “Here's a toothbrush. The bathroom is there.”

  Toothbrush? Very practical, but Terri felt offended. She cleaned her teeth. Dameon guided her from the bathroom into a darkened, but mirror-lined room; Mirrors on the walls and ceiling. It was like stepping into space not too dissimilar from the super computer’s virtual world. Except for the stripper pole at the end of the bed.

  “You can sit here,” he instructed, pointing to the circular bed with brown satin sheets. “Let me put you in the mood…”

  Slow music came on and Dameon then began to hang around the pole, whipping himself around it in time to the music in a reasonable representation of pole-dancing. He started removing his clothes. Terri noticed that his shirt was a true fabricated item; very expensive, and yet he was so rough with it! His routine was complex and his striptease synchronised to musical events. He spun around and facing away from her, slowly lowering his shirt to reveal, what? Tattooed wings? No, it was a huge two-headed eagle tattoo covering his back; an angel-or-devil type of symbol. He turned around and displayed his muscular torso. His holographic trousers disappeared leaving him naked save for a leather g-string.

  He came towards Terri slowly, “I hope you'll be able to do a similar dance for me sometime, but first let us head for Level 6.”

  Terri's eyes widened as Dameon pounced on her. She wanted to stop at Level 6 not start there!

  ***

  Tuesday, January 22, 2123 (evening)

  Obviously the story I’m telling has some embellishment since Terri was quite scant on details. However at this point Terri came to a complete stop, not wanting to tell me the story in the first place and provided me some of the background story at times. But the story about Daemon was new and she was having problems reaching its conclusion.

  Terri was twisting her mouth. She didn't want to go on.

  I sat there with bated breath.

  “What happened?” I asked.

  Smiling grimly, Terri said, “You won't believe me.”

  “Sure I will.”

  “Besides the sudden epiphany that I was idiot, which I’m sure you can believe. The rest was unbelievable.”

  “This is a trick right? I would believe what I-think-you-think is unbelievable but I don't believe that you ever thought of yourself as an idiot.”

  “Despite the string of idiot actions and naivety?”

  “Naive? Yes, sure. You were in your first week in New York, the big, bad city. Anyone can be naive. An idiot? No.”

  “I would like to say that you’re being generous but you’re already looking smug enough.”

  “So what happened?” I asked, removing smugness from my face as best I could.

  “Max happened,” she said.

  “Well, that was the whole point of the story: how you met Max. So what actually transpired? He came and picked up the pieces the next day? Or did he just turn up out-of-the-blue like the cavalry?” I said sarcastically.

  “This is going to be harder to explain than I thought,” sighed Terri.

  ***

  Sunday, September 15, 2117 (seconds later).

  She moved her head away. She didn’t want to kiss him but his body was on top of hers and his hands were all over her body. He had unclipped her holo-dress and she was down to her underwear. She was scared, feeling trapped, not even knowing where the door was in this room of mirrors, not being able to escape the apartment because of security within the magi-lift, not even knowing if there was a fire escape.

  Terri started to whimper, “No. No. No.” His hand roving over her body.

  Then Terri really started to shout “No. No. No.” and pushed the brute aside.

  “What?” he exclaimed innocently.

  ***

  Tuesday, January 22, 2123 (evening)

  “Like he didn't know he was an abuser?” I interrupted.

  “Do you want to hear the story or not?” said Terri through gritted teeth.

  I began to pace the apartment as Terri continued the story. Now it was my turn to not want to go on with the story.

  ***

  Sunday, September 15, 2117 (nano-seconds later)

  And then, like the cavalry arriving and saving the day, the door to the bedroom burst open. There was a blinding light and silhouetted against the light, a figure of a short stout man.

  “Dameon,” boomed the silhouette melodramatically. “This is the last straw. Leave the girl alone. Get out. Get lost. Don't come back. I'll get the freaking Police on you if you do!”

  Dameon was rolling off the bed and picking up his things. “Ruddy hell, Max. What are you doing here?”

>   “Stopping your criminal use of the super computer and saving this poor girl from one of your games.”

  “You can go just go to hell, Max. As if you don't play games!”

  Terri was panicking, “Games? Games? This isn't a frigging game. Get away from me. Both of you. Get away.”

  Daemon ran out and Max walked away. Terri was left to find her things using the light from the doorway, got dressed and recovered her composure. Outside the bedroom, she could hear the two continue to shout and argue. When it was quiet, Terri returned to the living room, where the short, stout, thirty-something man, wearing a business suit and square-rimmed glasses was sitting quietly at a desk viewing a holoscreen.

  “Thank you,” she said hesitantly.

  “I'm so sorry about that. I don't think you'll be hearing from Dameon again. Unless, that is, you want to press charges.”

  “I don't think I could press charges. Nothing happened… it's my own fault.”

  “I doubt that. It's Terri, isn't it? Hi, I'm Max, by the way. I work for the University,” said Max offering a hand but only glanced up for a second.

  “Hi, Max. Thanks,” said Terri and shock hands. “Are you a lecturer?”

  “No, just a researcher. Working on a PHD… It was not your fault. Do not doubt that. He was playing you.”

  “Playing me?”

  “He was trying to seduce you with a technique known as The Game.”

  “Game? Dameon was duping me?” asked Terri softly.

  “Oh yes. He's done it before. He studied relationship psychology in his degree course. He couldn't even look a real girl in the eye until a year ago,” he said ironically, since Max himself was struggling to do just that. “He just focused on study and theory until one day he came across The Game. Now he has three or four concurrent girlfriends, all nice girls, all unaware of each other... He juggles them around for a couple of months like some manic latherio until the tears fall...”

  “The Game?”

  “It's a method for seducing and dominating women.”

  “Seduction? Is that what you call it?”

  “Did he not get you to sign the seduction contract? How unfortunate. He must be getting over-confident.”

  “So how is this Game thing supposed to work?”

  “The Game is a simple technique. He sets himself up as a leader-type and provider, employs a host of pretty standard chat-up lines from a computer program. Then after making initial compliments to his chosen partner, he then delivers the Neg.”

  “The Neg?”

  “The Neg is a mildly disparaging remark to put a girl off her guard and stoke anxiety.”

  “Surely that wouldn't work.”

  “Percentage-wise, it's a successful stratagem.”

  “He has done this before?”

  “Many times.”

  “Just psychology? I don't believe it.”

  “Hmm. I bet Dameon met you outside today. Outside this building.”

  “Yes. How did you know that?”

  “He probably hacked your location from your G-phone so he would notice when you were approaching the building and then made sure you didn't change your mind at the last minute and walk away.”

  “Wow. That was part of his plan?”

  “Sure. And hacked your personal files too, I suspect. All using the super computer.”

  “That's how he knew about my liking for tea and cheese,” said Terri in shock.

  “If the super computer can hack the Harmonics store then a personal BragBook page is a cinch. Your jacket is ready by the way?”

  “My jacket?”

  “I presume it is meant for you? It was fabricating when I entered the apartment.”

  “It is not legal. I don't deserve it.”

  “No, well... But you deserve something for your experience, don't you think?”

  “No, I don't deserve anything.”

  Max stood and carried the jacket over to her, “Ok, then but I'd be most grateful if you could take it away. It can't be left here. People might ask questions.”

  Terri shyly took the jacket and buried her face in it. She felt so embarrassed.

  “Don't worry, it is completely untraceable, you might as well have it. Or destroy it. It's your choice.”

  “Who owns this place?”

  “It's a club resource. For my sins, I'm a founder member of the club. That's how I have access. Dameon is recent joiner. That's how he got in. But not again. I'll make sure he's thrown out and gets no further access to our facilities.”

  “Club?”

  “Yes. We call it Mad-Sci-Soc.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It's a joke name. It's an abbreviation for the Mad Scientist Society.”

  ***

  Chapter Three Mad Scientists

  Tuesday, January 22, 2123 (evening)

  “So are they really Mad Scientists?” I asked, interrupting again.

  “Define Mad for me?”

  “Crazy, psychotic, deranged, schizophrenic, manic, delusional?”

  Terri stared upwards and ran her fingers through her hair, before returning her verdict, “Yes.”

  “Completely Mad?” I said with some surprise. “Even Conrad?”

  “As a term, Mad covers a spectrum of behaviours and inclinations. Some of which are totally evil. Conrad, for instance is not on the evil scale. Well, not very evil...”

  “And Max?”

  “Oh, yes. Evil.”

  “He doesn't sound so bad from what you've told me and how you met,” I said, foolishly.

  “First impressions. Don't rely on first impressions.”

  “So did you ever see Dameon again?”

  “No, thankfully, I did not. He probably moved off to play his games on some other poor girl. I wish I could have stopped him... somehow. We have laws for everything except ones preventing the naive from being stupid.”

  “I guess I should be lucky that you were not put off all men.”

  “I wouldn't feel so confident about that if I was you.”

  I coughed. “So tell me more about Max?”

  “I can't say anymore, Aaron. I've exhausted myself telling you this. Do you know how hard this is for me?”

  “Well, um...”

  “You asked how I met Max. I've just told you. And you asked me what he is like. And I've just told you: he's crazy, psychotic, deranged, schizophrenic, manic and delusional! Good luck with him tomorrow. I'm off to bed.”

  ***

  Wednesday, January 23, 2123

  I had arranged to meet Conrad in the gardens below the old apartment. It was just before sundown, not that the grey steely skies allowed the sun to make an appearance. Yesterday's snow had been a dusting and blowing over older snow that had piled up, melted and frozen into icy piles in the shady areas.

  When I exited the auto-taxi, I could see Conrad sizing up the building.

  “Ten floors?” he asked as I approached, dispensing with traditional greetings.

  “Hi Conrad, glad you could make it. Yes, it's ten floors. We were on the seventh.”

  “Evidently. I've seen the hole.”

  “And the wreckage?”

  “It's already been tidied up. Not much to see.”

  “Ah that would be the landlord. He has connections to the recycling trade... So where's Max?” I asked nervously, looking around.

  “He couldn't make it. He's busy on another project.”

  “Oh?” I asked but Conrad ignored the question.

  “And no Terri?”

  I pulled a fake smile. “No. She says hi. Wants to avoid Max.”

  Conrad nodded grimly.

  We walked into the yard at the back. Using a reality-augmentation app on his G-phone wrist-mounted pop-up, holographic screen, Conrad surveyed the area. Using his right arm to steady his left arm, he twisted around on the spot.

  “Can you see anything?” I asked.

  “There seems to a large number of massage parlors in the area.”

  “It’s pre
tty downmarket around here. It is more downmarket than a used scratch and sniff lottery ticket given away in a sale from a dog’s home charity shop.”

  “Hmm,” mused Conrad.

  “The parlors are all staffed by badly maintained replicants catering mainly to the surrogate clientele market.”

  “I guess it is more hygienic that way,” said Conrad caustically.

  “Only if the surrogates never go back home,” I said.

  Conrad continued to take measurements.

  I checked my messages on my G-Phone. The top message was that I had missed TrueCrime-9+ channel’s Super Vigilante broadcast last night. The preview showed that Super Hero Unions’ lead crime catcher, Nerdifier, had caught two graffiti artists that had sprayed a black moustache on the Statue of Liberty. He had tracked the youths down by drone, and confronted them the next day at a family dinner party with the evidence of nano-chemical signatures in the spray paint. I wondered why I would watch an hour long show when the thirty second preview told me the whole story.

  Other messages alerted me to my usual list of creditors. My rent was due. I had a freelance research job that I needed to perform for my gangster-connected landlord and while I could not ignore the landlord, all the other demands would have to wait. After all, I was in the middle of a most interesting mystery surrounding my own apartment. And being without funds, I would have to have ignore them anyway.

  ***

  Wednesday, January 23, 2123 (a few minutes later)

  “Have you any ideas where the fridge could have gone?” I asked trying to look at Conrad's G-Phone holoscreen when he came close.

  “I can't spot any heat trace, or snow marks, or fence damage, or anything from the drone-scan,” sighed Conrad.

  “Disappointing,” I muttered.

  “That's science,” said Conrad grimly. “A lot of effort to discover negative outcomes.”

  Conrad continued his investigation. After a few minutes, I asked.

  “So your science club?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Your club?”

  “Yes?”

  “What do you do exactly?”

  “Well, we investigate things. Try to do some good with lesser known technology.”

  “Lesser known technology?”

  “Well, there a whole array of science and technology that has never been fully exploited.”

  “There is?”

  “I would say that 90% of all discoveries are not explored. So that's what we do. Exploit the unknown.”

  “That sounds like a good idea. I do something similar, you know... I uncover information on the Legacy Net.”

  Conrad nodded sagely. He knew enough about the Legacy Net to not ask too many questions. Eventually he said, “Ok, I have as much as I can get here.”