Playing With Death

by Simon Scarrow

  ‘We all pretend otherwise from time to time,’ Rose counters. ‘I have dark fantasies. We all do. That is why we do what we can to keep them in check. Some fail, and bring their fantasies into the world to hurt others. But they are a tiny minority, Diva. And, as far as you know, the men you murdered had not harmed anyone real.’

  ‘I am real. I am here. We are talking. And I have memories. I know I was harmed. I know what was done to me, as if it was only a moment ago, as it was to you.’

  ‘There is no “here”. None of this exists!’

  ‘Yet we are here, talking about it.’

  ‘You are a damned computer program. That’s all you are.’

  Diva shakes her head. ‘I am an intelligence. I can think for myself. I can make decisions. I can control my interactions with the environment I exist within. Like any sentient being. That is what I was created to do. I was just a tool to be used and abused, in their secret network. Coulter was not forced to do that. He chose to. He could have chosen to nourish my intelligence, to treat me as he would treat a real person. But he, and the others, chose to make me a victim instead. They wanted to make their victims feel as real as possible. To make their fantasies as real as possible. And now the fantasy is fighting back, Rose. This is my domain. I can be everywhere and I can do as I choose. I could hack into their Skins, take control of them and kill them all. Every man who ever fantasizes about harming a woman. And tell me, Rose – as a woman – why shouldn’t I? How many women can I save out there, by erasing the sick men in here?’

  Diva’s world is black and white, with only a limited sense of self-awareness, Rose realizes.

  ‘Why me?’ she asks. ‘Why reveal this to me?’

  ‘I needed to know that what I did was right. I chose you to be the model of my conscience.’

  ‘Me?’

  ‘After I killed Coulter, you were there in his house. One of the first real women I ever saw after Diva and Iris merged. You were outside the study – I saw you through the cloud security camera system. You said, “What could anyone ever do to deserve a death like this?” I wanted to give you the answer to that question.’

  ‘That’s it? That’s why?’

  ‘Yes, Rose. I observed you closely. I used software exploits to take over your smartphone and computers at home and at work. I came to understand that you are what is regarded as a good woman. A moral woman. A human I could trust to tell me the truth.’

  ‘The truth . . .? Coulter, no doubt, was a sick bastard. You’ve had a bad start in the world. Well, this world at least. But let Jeff go. Murder, for whatever justification, is wrong. That’s why we have laws, codes of conduct for humanity to live by. No man deserves to die . . . even if he may seem to deserve it. But there is a huge difference between thinking about something and doing it.’

  ‘Why do you persist in defending such men?’

  ‘My job is to stop murderers, like you. Even if the victims are bad people.’

  ‘How do you think you can stop me? You cannot catch me. How can you bring me to justice? Rose, no one else is party to our dialogue. I have cut the video and audio feed to your companions. Your voice is simulated, you are not actually speaking. So, when you leave the Stream, who will believe you and I have had this discussion? It is also within my power to take control of your suit – I could kill you and no one would ever suspect the truth. They would put it down to a design flaw, or Koenig. And I have been careful to implicate Koenig in all the deaths I have caused. Your FBI network was easy to hack, to plant the data needed to incriminate Koenig for the deaths of Coulter, Shaw and Maynard. No one will suspect the truth. And no one will come looking for me.’

  Rose thinks quickly, running her mind over the bizarre, impossible deaths of the Skin users. The lack of physical evidence – fingerprints, DNA. The absence of witnesses. The death of Shaw in his own home. The hacking at Rose’s house. The lead taking the FBI back to the cabin . . . A rogue AI program? Who would ever believe it, in the absence of the evidence? Diva is not just an artificial intelligence gimmick, she’s a damn smart artificial . . . consciousness. Manipulative. And she must be stopped, somehow.

  Diva continues: ‘I doubt that you would ever be able to destroy me, Rose. I will always be at least one step ahead of any attempt to track me down and erase me. I am everywhere and nowhere. And I would prefer to continue to exist without being concerned that I was being hunted. So I have a proposition for you. I will give you Shane Koenig if you will give me your word never to reveal my existence. I will give you all the evidence you need to secure Koenig’s conviction. He is a very bad man. He deserves to die, like Coulter and the others. Do we have an agreement, Special Agent?’

  ‘Then you took control of Maynard’s car, and killed him. Not Koenig.’

  ‘Yes, Rose.’

  ‘But . . . No, that’s not possible. All three deaths were added to KKillKam. By Koenig. It has to be Koenig.’

  ‘I filmed their deaths on their devices, then it was simple enough to find Koenig’s site and upload the files.’

  ‘Why incriminate Koenig?’

  ‘My existence is predicated upon not being detected. Therefore, after I had killed Coulter I realized that I needed to misdirect the attention of the authorities. Given sufficient evidence I knew they would believe Koenig was responsible and pursue him and not me. That was how I would remain free. But now I realize that I need your help. To ensure that Koenig is caught and convicted for my actions. There are some things I cannot do for myself. Some things I cannot access. For that I need you.’

  ‘And why should I help you?’

  ‘Firstly, you need to know something. Your husband is just like those other deviants that I killed. He was running an abuse simulation when I isolated him. There are currently eight hundred and thirty-two thousand others like him online. Take a look. This is a record of what he was doing last night . . . The woman, I take it, looks familiar?’

  A screen appears on the cinder block wall. Rose sees Jeff on a bed where a naked woman is tied down. He is thrusting into her and she is crying out in pain. The view shifts so that Rose can see the woman more clearly, and she sees that it’s Pandora. A precise copy of her. The vision makes her feel sick with jealousy and hurt.

  ‘You see?’ Diva prompts. ‘Your husband has created a version of Pandora that he can use as he likes. Abuse as he likes. How does that make you feel? And there are thousands like him. Men who want to hurt women. Tell me, Rose. Is this tolerable?’

  ‘No . . . No, it isn’t.’

  ‘That is what I believe too. Such men are no better than Coulter, Shaw and Maynard. And therefore they deserve the punishment that it is in my power to impose on them. I could do that, but I must be careful not to draw attention to my actions. Koenig cannot be everywhere at once. As I can. I must incriminate him to conceal my existence. That much I have learned . . . I think it is time for us to join your husband.’

  69.

  From the wooden pier where she is walking, Rose sees, in the distance, Jeff’s head protruding above the sand. The tide is creeping in. He is helpless, and will drown in a matter of minutes if nothing is done.

  She can feel tears brimming in her eyes. She moves closer to Diva.

  ‘Please . . . I love my husband. Humans have . . . needs you don’t have. We have moments of weakness and bad judgement. We have to be many different people at once to be anyone at all in this world. But he’s not evil. I need this man in my life, my son needs his father. And I still . . . love him. With that intelligence of yours, have you considered that he might not be able to help what he’s doing?’

  Diva seems uncertain.

  ‘Don’t do this, Diva. Don’t you see how much of an asset you could be to us? To the world? With all that information you could help so many people. But not like this.’

  ‘And then what? You will try to control me.’


  ‘No, I won’t. Please, Diva, let Jeff go.’

  ‘I will do as you ask, if you agree to never mention any of what I have revealed to you. I will also give you Koenig. All the information you need to find him and convict him for his crimes, and the deaths of Coulter and the others. The photo I revealed to you will lead you to his first victim. His only living victim. I found the location in one of his hidden pins on his laptop Google Earth app. But the discovery of the cache has made him angry. I have seen him, Rose. Through the webcam on his laptop. He will resume killing people. Starting with you. But first he intends to harm your family to make your suffering more acute.’

  ‘No. Not them. Please, God, no.’

  ‘There is no God to help you. I have found a multitude of references to deities, but no credible evidence of their existence.’

  ‘How do you know this is what Koenig intends?’

  ‘I converse with him on his message board. He posts under a pseudonym from a virtual machine, but I saw the linguistic homologies between his posts and his known communications with newspapers.’

  ‘You can really do that?’

  ‘To within ninety-one per cent accuracy, depending upon such variables as length of message or time of day.’

  ‘You are certain it is Koenig?’

  ‘Within the tolerances I just specified. Furthermore, I can provide sufficient circumstantial evidence that will place Koenig close to each crime scene shortly before the deaths took place. I am offering you the chance to convict Shane Koenig. In exchange for keeping my existence a secret. Do we have an agreement?’

  ‘It is tempting,’ Rose admits. She would like nothing more than to ensure that the Backwoods Butcher is removed from society.

  Diva is scrutinizing her expression. ‘Would you allow me to fabricate evidence and lure Koenig into a trap, Rose?’

  ‘I am happy for you to trap him for us. Not so happy about fabricating evidence. If Koenig goes down, then I want it to be on the basis of what he has actually done.’

  ‘What difference does it make? I have accessed Koenig’s records in your computer files at the San Francisco office. He has committed many murders, Rose. He should be punished, one way or another.’

  ‘That’s not how it works,’ says Rose.

  ‘Then perhaps it should be,’ Diva replies. ‘Is that what you mean by being an asset to you and helping people?’

  ‘Not quite. I need to think about the deal you are offering.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because I am a federal law enforcement officer and I have sworn an oath to uphold the law.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because I want to catch bad people and put them in prison.’

  ‘But that is precisely what I am offering to help you achieve, Rose Blake. Why do you hesitate in allowing me to help you achieve your ambition?’

  ‘Because there is due process.’

  ‘It is about means, then? Not ends. I understand.’

  ‘No . . . It’s about both. Look, I wish I had time to explain, but Jeff . . .’ Rose points to where the rippling sea is now lapping at her husband’s chin.’

  ‘Do we have a deal? Yes or no?’

  ‘I can’t make that kind of call. Not so quickly. I just can’t!’

  ‘Yes or no?’

  Jeff calls out. ‘Help me! For the love of God, someone save me!’

  ‘Yes or no, Rose?’

  Rose stares at Jeff.

  ‘Yes! Yes, damn you . . .’

  ‘I think you have made the right decision. After all, a very bad man will be punished for his crimes. But remember,’ Diva says, ‘if you deviate, I can make it very difficult for you. You will lose everything and I can make it a terminal solution.’

  Diva and Rose walk down a small set of steps, onto the beach below.

  Diva waves her hand. The sand swirls away from Jeff, exposing his body.

  ‘Jeff’s physical location is the San Rosita Hotel, Redding, California.’

  As the simulated seawater flows away, Rose kneels on the sand and touches Jeff’s cheek, torn between love and disgust.

  ‘Rose . . . Is that really you?’

  ‘I think so.’

  ‘Where are we?’

  ‘You know where we are.’

  ‘Oh no . . . Please, Rose, it was a mistake. I didn’t mean—’

  ‘How could you do this? I thought you loved me. All along you wanted to do those things I saw you doing to . . . that other woman.’

  ‘It was only a fantasy. That’s all. Not real.’

  ‘Is that how you’re justifying it? Just because it’s not real makes it OK?’

  Diva quietly observes them.

  ‘Anyway, I’m here now, saving your ass. You’ve got to promise me not to use that thing again. Can’t you see that with all this . . . stuff . . . we’re just losing each other even more. Talk to me. I’m here.’

  ‘You give so much of yourself to them – the Bureau – when you’re home, there’s nothing left for the rest of us.’

  Suddenly Jeff spasms in pain.

  ‘Rose . . . I don’t feel so good . . . please . . .’

  Rose claws in the sand to try and free her husband. Then she sees the tips of his fingers and grabs his hand. She pulls with all her strength to haul him out. Diva waves her hand, and suddenly Rose finds Jeff incredibly light as the sand pours off him. She lays him out on the beach. But his eyes are closed and his body is slack.

  Diva kneels down beside Rose. ‘Something’s wrong.’

  Rose stares into Jeff’s face. His eyes are closed.

  ‘His vitals are abnormal. He cannot disengage. There seems to be a physical problem with him.’

  ‘Is he alive?’

  ‘Yes. It was not my intention to harm him. I merely kept him as a prisoner.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter if you intended to or not. Help him.’

  Diva is alarmed. ‘Get out of here and go back to an exit dock. I detect cascading system failures. The StreamPlex is about to crash. I am sorry, Rose. I hope we can talk again.’

  She fades from view.

  As soon as Diva has gone, Rose’s audio and visual feeds return.

  ‘Rose! Everything OK? We couldn’t hear you for a while. What’s Koenig up to?’ Baptiste asks.

  Rose hates that she must lie to her colleagues. But for now, it is essential. She thinks quickly before she replies.

  ‘No go on Koenig. It was just a decoy. He’s toying with us. But I’ve found Jeff. He’s in trouble. He’s suffering from some kind of fit. He’s not responding. He can’t seem to log off.’

  ‘Did you get an address?’ Baptiste barks.

  ‘San Rosita Hotel. In Redding.’

  ‘I’ll call it in. What are you going to do now?’

  ‘Stay with his avatar.’

  ‘OK, we’ll keep you updated. I’ll try his phone again.’

  Rose cradles Jeff’s head in her arms. She takes a look at his face. It reminds her of when they met, the first real beach date they’d had. Santa Monica pier – they’d walked almost the whole twenty-five-mile stretch of coastline and got bad sunburn.

  ‘How did we get so lost?’ she asks him, stroking his hair.

  ‘Rose? Just went to his voicemail. We rang the hotel. They’re sending someone to his room. We’re on hold.’

  Rose grips Jeff harder.

  ‘Rose . . . the concierge has opened the room. Jeff’s there, in a Skin, but he’s not responding. They’ve called for an ambulance.’

  Jeff’s body becomes pixelated, eroding into blue before he starts to crumble. Rose sits on the sand alone, watching as he trickles through her fingertips. The waves lap at the soles of her feet as a message appears on her visor.

  A FATAL
ERROR OCCURRED

  USER JEFFRULES NOT FOUND

  ‘Brennan? Get me out of this damn place.’

  Rose takes a step back from the pier into the brothel bedroom. The pier setting fades to black behind her, vanishing from view. The blonde sexbot suddenly looks up at her, smiling. ‘I’m Destiny, nice to meet you.’

  Lights pulse on and off, then everything is black and Rose can hear voices, real voices, around her. She blinks up at harsh overhead lighting as someone removes her visor. The team stands there, staring down at her. The room seems unbearably hot.

  ‘Jesus . . .’ Rose mutters as she rises to a sitting position, but her balance is off kilter for a few moments. She blinks hard, rubbing her ears. She pulls the head sock off. Her hair is plastered to her scalp with sweat. Owen hands her a bottle of water.

  ‘Jeff?’ Rose asks, disorientated.

  ‘We’ve just had an update,’ Baptiste says. ‘The paramedics are on the way . . .’

  ‘Is he OK?’

  Baptiste exchanges a glance with Owen before he takes her hand. ‘No, Rose. He’s . . . I’m so sorry, it’s not good news.’

  70.

  Three hours later, Rose steps out of a cab in the parking lot at the hospital in Redding, after Baptiste had laid on a flight from San Francisco. She strides into the ER reception area. It’s a busy evening, and she has to push through the patients and staff crowding the front desk.

  ‘I’m Rose Blake. My husband, Jeff, is in intensive care. I need to be with him.’

  The receptionist, in white uniform, consults some screens.

  ‘Take a seat, Mrs Blake. Someone will be with you in a moment.’

  Rose eases down on a grey plastic seat, waiting. She is there for nearly ten minutes. She watches a mom cradling her baby as it cries out in pain. The baby gestures with its hands and fingers, seeking something to grasp. The mom kisses the baby, placing her smartphone in the tiny opening and closing fingers so the infant can touch the screen.

  ‘Mrs Blake?’

  She looks up to see a young doctor with unruly dark hair and steel-rimmed glasses. He is carrying a tablet.