Sim

by Andy Remic

  *

  My mechanical eyes scanned the waiting lounge, I could hear the buzz of saws and drills in the workshop area and I wondered how Sullivan was getting along. Sullivan was a mechanic and I had known him for many, many years, from right back during the Entropy War when he had first worked on my armour; it was he who had personally fitted all my upgrades, including my most recent k legs, and he had an affinity with SIMs which was strange for a pep. Of course, SIMs’ emotions were less refined than that of your average pep – but for this man I felt something akin to friendship. He was the nearest comrade I had. He was the only pep I could talk to with open clarity and 100% divulgence and truth and candour.

  At that moment the door opened and in walked Sullivan; he was middle–aged and athletic. His hair was a light shade and cropped scalp–short, and his skin was smooth, clean–shaven, pale. I stood and greeted him, and he smiled, his mechanical eyes examining the cat I held against my chest.

  ‘Where did you find that?’

  ‘Out in the dregs. I was ambushed and had to pursue; this cat startled me in a factory and I almost blew the poor thing to Kingdom Come.’

  ‘I’d be careful,’ warned Sullivan, ‘some of these dreg beasts have diseases. I can run a check on her if you like? It won’t hurt her.’

  I shook my head in the negative. ‘No. She’s clean, I can tell. I’m not sure how I can tell,’ I rubbed her ears, ‘but I can.’

  ‘If you say so, D. Be careful though. GOV are cracking down on pets. They say they’re not healthy. A bad influence. Anyways. Come on, I’ll give your armour a check over; I bet you took some shit in that heavy blast.’

  I nodded.

  ‘Did the windscreen shatter?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Fukk. We’re using the toughest alloy now; you’re probably lucky to be alive. That must have been a hell of a blast, to take out a fukking k7 screen.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Your emotion overwhelms me,’ smiled Sullivan. ‘Come on, get your ass down to Bay 6. You know the routine. Let’s check that pack and shit.’

  I walked, still carrying the cat, until I reached the bay and with slow, careful movements disabled the spinal Niobium pack and removed my armour until I stood naked with feet cold on the tiled bay floor.

  Sullivan gave me a physical check, then he placed each part of my armour in his scanner and tapped at a few keys. ‘This will test the internal structure of the armour,’ he said and I nodded. I had no interest.

  I stood there naked, watching the cat explore the bay. Her green shade eyes probed everywhere and I wondered again if she’d be able to see in colour. If she could, then my envy would be even more deep–seated and full! Oh the joy to see in colour again but it would never happen. That privilege was taken from us.

  ‘Right, if you’d like to return to the lounge? The compu–check will be about a half hour.’

  I nodded. ‘Yes.’ Then I strode back to the lounge and sat naked on the settee whilst Sullivan checked my physical data and prepared a spec sheet.

  I had left the cat behind, but I was sure she would be all right with Sullivan; fukk, the guy would probably even run a test on the dratted animal out of suspicion and care for my well–being, if I knew him as well as I thought I did!

  I examined my own body to pass the time, tracing the fine contours of muscle with a finger, the lithe but athletic shape of my legs and flat stomach, ridges hard with muscle.

  I sighed.

  All I wanted was to return to my apartment and take a hot shower and a well–earned sleep. It had been a strenuous night, with fourteen kills under my belt and the night still young. I’d be all right after thirteen or fourteen hours sleep. Sleep was something I had too little of these days. And what sleep I did have was haunted.

  *

  Later: I HAD A dream filled with blood in the dark hours of the nightmare night. I had a very bad dream, filled with blood and death and severance. I dreamt of my mother, beautiful and pure, with long flowing brown hair and bright green eyes – real eyes! Then I dreamt of them torturing my mother, dark masks silent, empty of emotion, devoid of feeling, I dreamt of them killing my mother, pumping her twitching flesh body full of bullets as she screamed and drooled and her child – her beautiful only child – screamed and screamed and screamed, to save her*help her, rescue, her and the blood was all over the floor in a deep pool that ruined my fine boots, and she was stretching out for me, blood speckling her hands and her pleading whimpering face full of pain and wailing a high wail of mercy and the bastards called it purification and no SIM could stay umbilicated forever and one day the freedom had to come, and I had to break free or be forcibly broken free. I tried to help her, tried to attack the blank–faced V2.0 Battle Es with their roaring guns and hard muscle but they were too strong and I could not stop them and it had all been my fault because she was my mother and she had birthed me and because of that she had to die and I didn’t understand and wished I could understand but the world was such a confusing place and I no–longer desired life and I screamed ‘Kill me kill me kill me!’ but they wouldn’t kill me because I was SIM and GOV ruled and my disappointment lasted a fukking eternity.

  *

  I awoke cold, shivering, and pulled the blankets up tight. I gave myself an injection in the thigh and this knocked me out for good without dreams and I was sleeping like the dead when the comm buzzed a loud, urgent buzz and cursing I got out of bed all groggy from the narco and opened the line. Z was on the other end and he told me my dreamtime was over, and that he hoped I hadn’t taken too much narco. I said I hadn’t.

  ‘We’ve got a break in on the outskirts. All the Ds are covered so it’ll be up to you,’ said Z, his bald–head shining with sweat on the comm screen.

  ‘Great,’ I said.

  ‘I’ll have somebody drop off a vehicle in the next five minutes. Has your armour been checked over by Sullivan?’

  ‘Yes. It was OK.’

  ‘Good. The security reports three intruders, probably scum from the dregs who skipped wire and thought they’d steal some cash from good hard–working beautiful honest peps. Let’s hope you don’t have to kill any more rebs tonight, eh?’ Z laughed a cold GOV laugh without any humour, the way it always was.

  ‘Yes.’

  The comm went dead and I pulled on my armour; I looked for the cat, which I had decided to call Emerald (or Emmy for short, a very pretty name) on account of her green eyes which I couldn’t see but at least they were there and I was quite envious of her natural luck.

  She had gone.

  Checking and oiling my gun, I left my apartment and drifted down to outside; the vehicle arrived soon and I gave the Justice A a ride back to base; we did not speak, because he was an A, and then checking the address on the mon I set off into pep city.

  The vehicle was an old Battle Jeep once used in the Entropy War and now possessed of very shagged suspension; it gave a bumpy ride but had a powerful engine and I suppose I should be grateful for that as long as it didn’t break down in hissy hiss. I had a friend, a Justice E, who had broken down out in the dregs and the rebs had taken him out big style, for back then our armour hadn’t been so advanced; I didn’t want that to happen to me because despite my SIM status death was still something to fear because it was an end to everything and dark cold and bastard.

  I pulled onto a dimly lit road, which was deserted and this was good. I reached the building, which was considerably old and archaic and built from stone; the security shutters were down which meant the intruders were still inside. I got out from the old Battle Jeep and looked left, over the wasteland, over the wire towards distant dregs, dark, creeping, huddling shapes in the distant oily black.

  This part of the city was too close to wire. Too tempting for any dreg with enough balls to skip hot wire and go on a looting raid without care for a bullet in the skull.

  I strode up the path, unholstering my SMKK and using the external mon to override the security prog and I slipped inside; behind me the shu
tters reactivated and would stay thus until I entered the correct pass.

  The hall was dark and I waited for my mechanical eyes to adjust; a few areas of light shade came from a lamp which had been knocked over and I entered this office first.

  The building was some sort of mass work area for pep clerks during daylight hours. The building was a kind of insurance company and Z had given me the location of the safe which would surely be the intruder’s target.

  Leaving the office, I crept down the corridor looking left and right, the tension rising as the chemicals in my blood started to run thin; stopping, I activated the adrenaline which I knew I would need and then, with this boost and a smile I set about searching the building.

  It was a large task. There were six floors, and I started at the bottom, working my way slowly, methodically, up. As I reached the third floor on the stairs something large came hissing out of the darkness from above, and stepping back just in time I saw the small iron safe hammer into the floor far below and crack the tiles.

  If it had hit, it would have taken my head clean off.

  So, they knew I was here, then.

  They were obviously above, and I slowed my search, taking great care with every manoeuvre; I did not know if they had guns, and did not want to learn the hard way – armour or not. It still hurt like a motherfukker.

  I continued up. The fourth floor was deserted except for offices full of compu equipment and a few token pissplants. I found the room where the safe had been lifted, the chain having been smashed with a hammer or axe – probably a fire axe taken from the fire cabinet.

  So, they had an axe at least.

  As I was about to discover.

  I had reached the top of the stairs when the axe whistled from the darkness; but I was fast, swaying back from the blade which embedded in doorframe. My gun blasted and there was a grunt – there came a pause – then the man stumbled forward against me and I looked deep into his face, into his mech eyes which were unreadable. Blood bubbled from his mouth and rolled down his chin. I stepped sideways and let the holed corpse roll down a few stairs, where it banged to a halt against the skirting board on the rectangular landing.

  Switching to spray, I fired bullets into the darkness but hit nothing. Shit. Why had my sleep been interrupted for this? This poor bad dreg?

  I removed the axe from the doorframe and dropped it to the floor, where splinters of wood stuck in the carpet. I moved carefully forward, gun ever–ready, muscles poised for action.

  Nothing happened.

  The report had said three intruders; so where were the other two?

  It took me nearly an hour to find them, hiding in a cupboard in the kitchen on the sixth floor; they were only kids but had violated the code of dreg entry. I reached down and pulled them out by the hair and they were crying, as so many dregs do when they are caught.

  ‘We were looking for food,’ sobbed one child, a girl of about eight years.

  ‘We were hungry.’

  ‘Was that man your father?’ I asked, holding onto the struggling kids but they were squirming and fighting and suddenly the boy who was slightly older than the girl broke away and fled down the corridor but one swift bullet in the back sent him skidding to the floor in a wet blood patch, and holding onto the girl and dragging her with me I moved to his body and put another bullet through his head to make sure he was dead.

  ‘Was that man your father?’ I repeated.

  The girl was almost hysterical and she kept beating at my arm and chest and despite her size she was strong, probably due to her fear, and she would not give me a straight answer and I debated whether to take her in for questioning but by their own mouths the children had admitted guilt, they had obviously broken into the building looking for food which I had to admit was pretty scarce in the dregs but hey–ho and so I held her down on the ground and shot her through the heart which was the kindest thing to do because it killed her outright and she was dead and I let go of her hair and watched the blood dribbling from her mouth and nostrils and staining her hair and the carpet and I wondered why the dreg scum were so foolish because they were always caught and terminated and it was all without fukking reason.

  I left the building and drove home in the heavy roaring Battle Jeep. I was thinking of Emmy all the way, and thinking how soft she was to stroke.

  I arrived at my apartment and opened the door. As I stepped inside something squished under my boot and I slid for a moment, fighting to regain my balance. I flicked on the light and looked down at the tiny corpse – it was a mouse and it was dead and standing on it had pushed out the guts to make a bloody mess on the floor.

  Looking about, I found another couple of mice corpses and this cheered me up immensely and I said, ‘Ch ch ch’ and looked around for Emmy and found her and picked her up and patted her head and she purred.

  I binned the mouse corpses in the waste and switched on TV. There was a holiday program on and I sat for a while with Emmy on my knee all purring and I waited for the adrenaline to wear off because I had given myself quite a big boost.

  The presenter was going through the countryside which was lush and verdant and looked quite fine so that I could almost smell the magnificent greenery. I had visited the countryside a couple of times and enjoyed it, especially the grass and trees which we no–longer had in the city due to pollution and concrete LAW.

  It is quite funny really, because in old books, books looking forward to the future, science fiction and stuff like that, there had been many visions of what ‘future years’ would hold – most got it wrong though, because writers tended towards the morbid with their visions of nuclear Armageddon and poisons infecting the earth and all that fukk; none of that happened, nuclear was disbanded because of the obvious dangers and we grew advanced in other areas of tech. The land still existed, there were still animals, there were still farmers out in the fields gathering crops to feed the populations and this was all fine even if the food was not as good with each passing year and had little taste. Salt helped, but I had to be careful of salt intake, being a SIM.

  The only thing science–fiction writers got right were the visitations by aliens, although the aliens I was thinking about were only alien in a human–alien sense – they weren’t creatures from another planet in spaceships or any of that fukk ha ha what a bizarre notion but they were the outcasts, the outlawed and the loons who peps and the GOV forced into the dregs to run out their worthless existence because due to varying factors various humans and SIMs could possess traits which made them worthless to society and thus they were exiled which has always been preferable to extermination on a mass scale and at least controls the problems of uncultured peps and worthless scum. In the dregs they were left to rot and do what they did; lawless, except for the GOV imposed curfew which it was my job to uphold and anyway only rebs broke the LAW and they were shot for that because they did not deserve life and rebs were threat to GOV and all that GOV stood for.

  Rebs were illegal.

  As they should be.

  I watched the program and the camera panned. It showed trees and fields full of cows and sheep. It was quite interesting and soon the adrenaline wore off and I found a box and filled it with an old blanket and put Emmy in it and she curled up and went to sleep and this was just fine and after finding another mouse corpse and putting this in the waste I decided it was time to take some mandrake. I found the bottle which Sullivan had passed me earlier and I filled the injector and after stripping out of my armour I went into the bathroom, switched on the light, turned on the shower and waited for the steam. Then I stepped under the hot water and lifted my head and revelled in the heat and the glory and I didn’t need the groovy groovy MM now because mandrake would take its place and I injected and slowly sank to my knees with the water cascading from my head and upper torso and it felt so good and light and I could see purple and deep blue and I could have almost been seeing real colours with real eyes, real colours in my mind instead of the shades of grey, and instead of
the miserable colourless world I could see the colours, feel them, taste them, I reached out and they spun around my fingers like stardust and I knew this was only synthetic cerebral stimulation but it was beautiful and colourful and I sank into the colours and allowed them to carry me and enter my throat and flow into my veins and body and heart and it was simply the best feeling a SIM could ever experience and it was almost as if I no–longer needed the mech eyes, and I could see again, and be there, and see the blue sky and green grass and Emmy’s green green eyes which were watching me, green green eyes watching my every movement and I sighed and allowed the mandrake to take me into darkness infinity oblivion and beyond.

  *

  Later: I had a dream. In this dream were colours, wonderful colours stimulated by the mandrake and I was back in the old Entropy War and Mission the old bastard was on one side as we sat in the trench, waiting for the order to advance, and we’d been sharing the mandrake – illegal then – and breathing deeply and readying our SMKKs and the colours had been much more real back then for mandrake was new and more highly stimulating and then the buzzer sounded and we’d gone over the wire and headed towards the CubeScraper, tall and foreboding and Mission had seen them first because he had MK IV eyes which were very powerful and I trusted him with my life. Our guns had opened up, we could see the mono flashes of distant gunfire and suddenly the krumps had been flying overhead, exploding, shrapnel screaming its bastard scream on wasted metal and we hit the deck and SIMs were screaming with their armour all sliced by shrapnel and Mission waved us on and we followed now and more krumps were flying overhead and the mandrake was spinning me and the colours were real and I could feel my heart swallowing the juices and the groovy groovy MM was distant and distant and the CIVs fired more krumps and more krumps but I no–longer cared for my purpose was almost served and we stormed the CubeScraper, battling our way past the first blockade with minimum loss of SIM life and maximum destruction to our surrounding enemies...