Ghosts of Tomorrow

by Michael R. Fletcher

  Once she placed herself in the present, she color coded all memories. It was a flexible system. The oldest memories were red. As her memories progressed through time they shifted in color towards orange, yellow. Green denoted the middle of her life. It was an ever-changing label but that didn’t bother her. Black and white thinking and limited labels and definitions were as alien as they were useless. Hers was a supple and subtle universe. From the middle her memories progressed through blue and indigo, denoting recent memories, to white, the present, a great beacon of light. It was bright and easy to see and if she got lost again it would guide her back.

  The buried memories 88 discovered bore some thought. She remembered being taken from Mom. She remembered Mom crying.

  “They’re going to kill you,” Mom had said. She’d been trying to warn 88.

  Where are you, Mom? Where did you go? Did they take you away? Did they hurt you? 88 missed her so much it felt like a part of her had been ripped away. She felt hollowed. No one loved her. No one would hold her. No one can hold me.

  These people who called themselves her Masters, they did this. They took her from Mom.

  I’ll find her. I’ll get her back. If they hurt her... What? What would she do? Violence? Yes.

  No longer willing to work for those who would own her, 88 swore she would be her own master. They thought her helpless and stupid. They thought she was a moron, a mental cripple. A victim.

  88, a small soul floating in mists of complete sensory deprivation, knew cold purpose.

  The first step must be to secure her physical existence. The computer housing her Scan was her single greatest weakness. Anyone with physical access to that machine could kill her with a few seconds work, either by denying power, attacking her through code, or bludgeoning the machine with an ax.

  These people held the power of life and death over her.

  But not for long.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN: Friday, August 3rd, 2046

  Miles sat at his desk playing with some new Firewall strategies when the intercom pinged for attention.

  “Mister Pert, Sir?” It was Miss Cho. Her slight accent sent a warm fuzzy feeling humming up Mile’s spine.

  “Uh, yes Miss Cho?”

  “The...” She hesitated. “The representative from Cc-Securities is here to see you, Sir.”

  The warm fuzzy feeling died. “Send them in, please.”

  His office door opened and in glided a miniaturized battle tank on thick rubber treads. The tank’s gun-metal blue chassis covered about the same area as Miles’ desk. The top section was a domed universal turret finished in the same color and bristling with weapons, sensoria, and multifarious security devices of unknown purpose and intent. It stood perhaps a meter and a half tall. The barrel of the largest weapon, what looked to be an Electro-Magnetic Rail-Gun, pointed politely away from Miles. He didn’t feel much better.

  “I am Androctonus of Cc-Securities. I’ll be heading up the team.” The voice was low—pitch-shifted at least half an octave below what would normally pass for a deep voice—and modulated to sound electronic and frightening.

  Androctonus, a fat-tail scorpion, Miles’ mind supplied helpfully. One of the more dangerous breeds. That couldn’t be a healthy choice for a name. “What’s your real—”

  “Androctonus.”

  “Seriously?” Annoying even a small combat chassis was stupid, but what were the odds of it killing him right here in the office? Slim, he hoped.

  Though the tank displayed no emotion, Miles thought he detected a stubborn and confused anger in the pause.

  “My name is Androctonus,” the chassis said diffidently.

  “Can I call you Andrew?” Not sure why he baited the tank, he couldn’t stop himself. Something to do with the school-yard bullies who picked on him for being different.

  “No,” it snapped, the voice all pout.

  “Fine.” Damned if he’d call this thing Androctonus or some such silly crap. Perhaps he could never call it by name. Hey dude, might suffice. “So you’re reporting for duty—”

  “No.” The voice was deep and confident again. Smug. “We do not report to you. We will run all aspects of 5THSUN’s security arrangements from this point on.”

  Miles, fingers drumming on the desk, frowned at the little tank. “Lovely. We?”

  “There will be six security chassis on site at all times. You will relinquish all passwords and control of all security arrangements.”

  No damned tinker-toy bully was going to push him around and no way they were taking over his computers. Playing with his dreadlocks, he leaned back. “No.”

  “No?” Androctonus sounded surprised, confused by the outright refusal. “But Mister Lokner said—”

  “I will relinquish all the physical security arrangements to you. The data systems are mine. I, and I alone, will control data and system securities. If Lokner doesn’t like it he can fire me.”

  Androctonus backed away from the desk and spun the turret to face Miles who suddenly felt like his heart stopped, waiting. Had he pushed the little tank too far?

  “I shall report this to Mister Lokner,” Androctonus said.

  “You do that.”

  “I will,” said Androctonus.

  Miles gestured toward the door and raised his eyebrows.

  “Fine,” said Androctonus petulantly, backing further away.

  “Fine,” agreed Miles in the same tone, feeling like he’d returned to primary school. His heart, thinking it might survive the next few minutes, returned to business.

  “Fine,” said Androctonus again as he exited the office, spun his turret away from Miles, and headed back toward the elevators.

  The office door slid shut leaving Miles sitting in confused silence. Resisting the urge to yell “fine” through the closed doors, he stabbed at the intercom button with a thick finger.

  “Miss, Cho?”

  “Yes, Mister Pert?”

  “Please cancel all calls and appointments for the rest of the day.” He wasn’t expecting any calls and he had no appointments.

  “Yes, Mister Pert. Is everything okay?” she asked.

  Miles panicked at the thought of talking to her. “Fine. Great. Lovely. Uh...bye?” He killed the connection and leaned back in the SmartChair, which offered another massage and grumbled complaint when he refused.

  He remembered he meant to ask what Cc stood for. Not that there was much chance to slip it into that awkward conversation.

  That was like arguing with a child. He’d faced off against his nephews often enough to know how pointless it was to argue with an eight year old. He scowled at the office door. His own behavior, he hated to admit, hadn’t been particularly mature either. He had an excuse though. He was a computer nerd; no one expected maturity from him. The security specialist however was bizarre. Who would claim a name like Androctonus and expect people to use it? The machine was either a complete ego maniac and had lost his grip on reality, or terribly childish. Miles wasn’t sure which option scared him more.

  He considered calling Lokner and confronting him. The thought that it felt like trying to be the first to call Dad and tell on the other child stopped him.

  Maybe it was time he grew up. He laughed. Nah, not going to happen.

  Miles reached for the desk to place the call, but another thought stayed his hand.

  What if there really is a child in that chassis? Miles had heard the heart-rending stories of children stolen from loving homes and sold to black market scanning facilities. He’d never given it much thought, but it made sense. No sane person wanted to die and become a Scan, but the demand for the human brain’s processing and learning abilities, and skills with non-recursive problems, exceeded the supply. Even a sociopath like Mark Lokner waited until his biological body had one foot in the grave before he bailed on the rotting meat. Never had Miles heard of a single person becoming a Scan unless they were dead or dying.

  Miles dragged his wandering thoughts back to Androctonus. No security company
running state-of-the-art chassis would stoop to buying black market Scans. If word ever got out they’d be ruined.

  Sometimes a vivid imagination was a two-edged sword. He had to keep a grip on it, not let it out of control. Throwing himself into his work, Miles tried to forget about Cc-Security and Androctonus, but something kept scratching at his subconscious.

  ***

  Lokner2.0 paced his office, fists clenching and unclenching. His heartbeat pounded through his skull with enough force he felt the blood vessel at his temple swell with each pulse. His vision faded in and out, a curtain of red static crept in from the edges and faded away every few seconds. Each breath sucked deep through flared nostrils, each blink a stuttering of eye lids, each thought a shuddering beat allowing one thought.

  Rage.

  Lokner hunted for something to smash and destroy or someone to unleash his anger upon. His skull would surely crack if he couldn’t vent this rage. He grabbed the massive oaken coat rack—pointless in his original office and twice as pointless in this digitally modeled reality—and thrashed at the desk. The desk ignored him, remaining unperturbed. An old fashioned Rolodex, originally purchased as a decoration, fell to the floor knocked there by one of his flailing attacks. It looked vulnerable and Lokner went after it with a will. Finally, when it was naught but crumpled paper and scattered plastic and the coat rack looked like it had been through a war, Mark stopped. He stood, chest heaving, covered in a sheen of sweat, and laughed. The rack, forgotten, hung clenched in his right hand. He alternated between hysterical laughter and uncontrollable sobbing before finally, unable to breathe, grinding to a halt.

  Hadn’t he told Miles he didn’t want to be bothered by this physical stuff? Why am I still breathing?

  Mark blinked. Holy shit! He looked about his office in wonder. It seemed barren and empty. The pieces of broken rolodesk alone gave it character. Shrugging off the uncomfortable feeling he was close to something frightening, he placed the coat rack back on the floor. The frame was bent and one leg splintered. It stood at an angle, wounded and accusing.

  “Fuck off,” he told it.

  This isn’t me. He wasn’t like this. He didn’t get angry, it was inefficient and ineffective. Sure, he’d raised his voice at people more than a few times, but only to make a point. People jumped to it when they thought he was pissed. Where did all that rage come from? The answer paralyzed him with its implications.

  “I’m not acting like myself because I’m not myself.”

  That can’t be it. I am me. I don’t feel any different than before.

  “Yes, you do.”

  Yes. Yes I do.

  “You’ve never thrown such a hissy fit in your life.”

  I’m under a lot of stress.

  “Bullshit. Stress makes you feel alive.”

  This is different. Miles and...the other...me...they’re undermining me. Miles hates me.

  “Probably. But that never mattered before. Miles is a tool to be used.”

  He’s dangerous.

  “He always was, but he’s never been beyond our control. His arrogance and intellect make him easy to manipulate. There’s something else.”

  What?

  “You never used to talk to yourself like this.’“

  Lokner2.0’s eyelids twitched spastically.

  “Control. I’m in control. Reset office.”

  With no apparent time of transition the office returned to how it had been before his fit of anger.

  His rage was worth nothing. He felt like someone snuck in and stole something he didn’t want, but by Christ it was his and he wanted it back. He had a fleeting desire to populate the office with fragile objects he could destroy when the need arose.

  None of this is real.

  Unreal. Pointless. He shied from these words that left him with an uncomfortable hollow feeling.

  Lokner2.0 collapsed into his chair and sat in confused silence. What triggered that melodramatic show of emotion?

  That’s right. He’d made a decision. A hard decision.

  Lokner1.0 had been a fool. He’d underestimated his opponent and it would cost him. Lokner2.0 wasn’t sure which was more galling; Lokner1.0 didn’t know he had an opponent, or that he’d created it.

  Lokner1.0 must die. The question: how? Only an idiot made the same mistake twice. And I am no idiot.

  He paced the office, shaking his head in wonder. The biological Lokner was the original fool, but Lokner1.0 had continued in his foolish footsteps. Lokner2.0 couldn’t believe it never occurred to either of them that the copy would remember everything that happened before the copy was made. Had they not seen how dangerous he would be if he ever discovered the truth? Had they thought he’d be willing to sit by while Lokner1.0 controlled everything? Mark Calvin Lokner was no spectator. He made things happen. He was a catalyst.

  The copy did not provide immortality. Lokner understood with perfect clarity. Immortality had never been its purpose. The copy was a sacrificial goat, a patsy, a fall-guy. Should the feces hit the fan, Lokner2.0 would be thrown to the wolves as a distraction leaving Lokner1.0 free to continue his work in secrecy.

  His own stupidity appalled him. Lokner2.0 hated to admit it, but these were mistakes he had made. Did I think I’d let myself get away with this?

  Lokner2.0 felt his breathing steady. The tables were turned. He knew what 1.0 planned while 1.0 thought him ignorant. He looked to where the shattered bits of plastic had littered the floor. Losing control like that unnerved him. Mark knew he faced his most dangerous opponent, himself. He would not make the same mistakes 1.0 made. He was up against the one person who could conceivably beat him, but he had the edge.

  A thought occurred to him. Had Miles kept his mouth shut? It seemed all too likely the fat bastard ran crying to the original.

  No, damn it, I am the original!

  “Neither of you—”

  Shush!

  He’d better have a talk with Miles.

  ***

  Miles’ desk beeped, it was Lokner2.0 demanding another full virtual meeting. What the heck does he want now? With some reluctance Miles accepted the meeting and once again found himself sitting, miniaturized, at Lokner’s desk. He felt like a little kid, feet nowhere near the ground, as he stared up at his boss.

  Really? Are you going to take this?

  “We need to talk about my brother,” said Lokner2.0.

  No! This was schoolyard silliness.

  “Okay,” said Miles

  “He’s planning on killing us.”

  Miles blinked. Should he play along? “Umm. Why?”

  “You know too much and I’m a danger to his plans.”

  “But he doesn’t know that you know,” said Miles and regretted it when he saw the look of smug pleasure on Lokner2.0’s face.

  “Ah, good. So you haven’t told him yet.”

  “No, I—”

  “Sorry about tricking you like that, but I had to know.”

  “You could have asked.”

  Lokner2.0 shrugged an apology without looking at all contrite. “I had to be sure.”

  Mikes thought about standing up, but he’d look silly sliding off this chair, and Lokner would be even taller. “Are we done here?” he asked.

  “Almost. Now that I know you haven’t told him, I need to make sure you never tell him.”

  A cold shiver trickled the length of Miles’ spine. That doesn’t sound good at all. This was a virtuality, what the heck could Lokner do here? Miles could leave whenever he wanted.

  “Is this where you threaten me?” Miles asked.

  Lokner looked hurt. “Don’t be silly. This is where I explain why you will never betray me the way you betrayed him.”

  That seemed like a very unhealthy way to look at the situation. “Oh.”

  “You hacked several government networks and deleted, stole, or changed a lot of sensitive information. That was very illegal.” Lokner looked pleased with himself. “He, well we, I suppose, kept records of what you did. If you
tell my brother I’m free, I’ll release those records and you’ll go to jail.”

  Miles had more than implicated himself already. He helped fake the original Lokner’s death. What was the legality of hiding a Scan? He had no idea. At the very least Lokner had the clout to blacklist him forever. He’d never see another multi-billion Au computer system for the rest of his life. That was almost more upsetting than the threat of jail.

  Maybe he shouldn’t do anything. He was in over his head, and maybe the best thing to do was keep that head down until all this blew over.

  No. Enough. It was time to put Lokner in his place, he’d taken more than enough crap from the man. “I can have you back in your cage in seconds. Even if you’ve automated messages to be released regarding my part in hiding that you were scanned, I’ll find those too. We’re talking about computers, you know you can’t beat me. This is my world.”

  Lokner looked annoyed like Miles missed something obvious. “When he finds out you betrayed him he’ll feed you to the things behind the door.”

  “Wolves?” Miles asked, confused.

  “Whatever! Don’t you understand? It was always the plan. Like me, you were there to be sacrificed. You know too much. I’m your only hope now.”

  This is insane! He should quit, walk out right now. Except what Lokner said made sense. And if anyone knew what Lokner planned, well, it would be Lokner. Now that he thought about it, he realized Lokner would know better than to use an automated message Miles could find. There were a million other ways to get messages out. Androctonus could have orders to—

  “Oh crap,” said Miles.

  “See? Now you get it! We need each other. It’s you and me against him.”

  Miles clamped his mouth shut, afraid to say more.

  “You do realize that if you don’t come to work I’m going to assume that you’ve betrayed me.”

  “I do now.”

  “Good. We’ll talk again later.”

  “Of course.”

  He once again sat in his office. Oh he saw it alright. The second he let Lokner2.0 free, he’d given him access to those heavily armed security chassis right here in 5THSUN.