by Brian Craft
His expression sours and he pushes back from the image, followed by a look of bored dissatisfaction with the endless observing. He condenses the image panels to only a dozen. Each displays a person inside small, dark, confined spaces; all dressed in identical powder-blue coveralls. Most are sleeping, but Burroughs zeroes in on one, in particular, a middle-aged black woman who sits hunched next to a small bed. She's digging her nails into the back of her hand.
Burroughs touches his control panel and speaks to her, “GL, you know that’s not helpful.”
GL barely acknowledges the sound of his voice, obvious that there isn’t a specific spot for her to look at that will address him. “Screw you.”
“You are being so uninteresting,” Burroughs toys.
"I hope I'm keeping you awake at night, you sick fuck," she spits the words venomously and then refuses to respond anymore.
Burroughs' eyes narrow as a sadistic look comes over him. He engages his display again and pauses at a program marked ‘Code Green,' with a large green digital button in the center of his monitor. "See you in your dreams," he whispers to the air around him. GL responds because she can hear the taunting whisper, too.
With that, Burroughs twirls his finger in the air over the green button, and then playfully pokes it dead center. GL’s room, and the display Burroughs examines her with, flashes bright emerald green. The green flash leaks into the other rooms displayed on the other monitors. When the green dissolves, GL lays unconscious on the floor.
Burroughs terminates all the images and his room goes black. He slides through the murk and exits.
He skulks along a barely lit corridor of what looks like an office building or scientific research facility. It’s late, and Burroughs is the only one there. He enters an elevator with sides, doors, and surrounding shaft are all glass. The doors slide shut, and the lift descends.
The transparent shaft plunges the elevator through the hollow core interior of a staggeringly high building. Catwalks extend from the central shaft outward to connect to other catwalks ringing the interior walls, where floor after floor of glass-walled cubicles passes by. Yellow safety lights dot the somber interior, casting a faint glow into some cells, where silhouettes of faces appear and disappear.
Burroughs barely notices the surroundings as he falls past it all into the darkest lower levels and disappears.
…
Orion slips the data cube under his pillow for safekeeping. It’s hard to keep a secret in this city, and he knows it. Lying back beneath Hivebeam’s soft glow, it occurs to him that maybe Hivebeam can read his mind. If not now, maybe while he’s sleeping, or maybe tomorrow at work. He rolls slowly to his side away from the center loop of the beam and buries his head a little deeper into the pillow. He lets his hand slide under it and curl around the hidden data cube.
Hours pass. Orion has relocated his head to the foot of the bed, away from the Hivebeam loop over his pillow where it can’t lull him to sleep. “What time is it?” he quietly speaks to the darkened room.
Jean replies in her ever-friendly tone, “Three thirty A.M.”
Orion drags the blanket off the bed as he heads toward the living room.
Blanket wrapping his shoulders, he parts shafts of moonlight filtering through the windows into the living room. He ignores his usual chair and stops nose to nose with the main video wall, then kneels. “Jean, I want to isolate an image on the view screen,” he speaks softly, like he might be heard by more than Jean. “Can you do that?”
“Yes.”
“Can I isolate a source?” he continues.
“Not without interrupting the central data stream.” Her voice echoes through the room.
“Can you do that?”
Jean answers with textbook accuracy, "Datastream can be interrupted for a total of six minutes for service."
“I want to service the source imager.” Orion pries open a small floor panel near center screen, revealing a compartment with circuits and wires. A faint LED glow emanates from within. “Jean. I want to isolate an image directly in front of me. No more than two feet wide.” Once the panel is set aside, he orders, “Jean, Interrupt feed.”
“Feed break confirmed,” she reports.
Orion slips the data cube from under his blanket. He ponders it, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger before reaching to insert it into a slot deep inside the open compartment. He’s careful to align the cube’s polished metal contacts with the slots counterparts. Then the cube begins to glow. Illuminating first the cube circuits, and then the cubbyhole in soft white light that’s slowly replaced with undulating colors that grow brighter.
He sits on the floor by the glow and huddles close to the screen. He lifts the blanket around himself, wide enough to obscure any outside view of the video wall. Suddenly, an image appears on screen right in front of him.
Flying over a sweeping green landscape, a wild, untouched vista that leads to mountains. The mountains rise, grey and green to rocky peaks that stretch for miles. The image changes to wild animal herds thundering across vast plains. Huge flocks of pink birds swoop and race in a magnificent display of grace and coordination. This looks like a nature video from the early twenty-first century.
Regardless of its beauty or inspired wonder, the video is a deviant piece of data and viewing it is equally deviant. It's imagery that Societal Services has expunged from public consumption at the request of the city planners. They believe that it creates random ideas, uncontrolled thoughts that lead to people questioning their carefully cultivated reality. And questions are followed by actions.
“Beautiful,” slips out of Orion. A dance of colored light reflects on his face as the stunning imagery rolls by. Tears well in his eyes at the sight of a world so free and natural, but also so foreign that he can hardly believe that it’s real. His gaze drifts a million miles away, transfixed by the dreamy world he loses track of time.
“Feed restored,” Jean announces. “Six minutes elapsed.”
The image abruptly disappears. The entire video wall flashes bright red. Orion snaps out of his fantasy, shocked into the horror of being caught in a mind crime.
He springs to his feet right as huge words appear, flashing on the video wall:
CRIMINAL IMAGES DETECTED.
WE ARE NOW IN CONTROL.
The room self-illuminates and floods with light. The front door lock automatically snap shut. That sound sends a shock of fear through him.
“Jean!” Orion yells. “What’s happening?”
“The authorities were automatically alerted when the feed break restored. The image you viewed is deemed subversive.” Jean adds flatly, “I’m sorry.”
Orion runs to the windows and sees police cars already arriving below. Then the glass shades to black, blocking his view.
The gravity of what's coming next hits him in a wave. Frantic now, he runs to the kitchen, then toward the bedroom before he catches his mind running away with him. He races to the window and slams his hands against the black shading, inspecting the surface in hopes that maybe he can peek through. He walks his hands along the glass a few feet before spinning around to press his back against it. His crime, as minor as he may believe, is announced in huge letters on his viewscreen. He rushes forward, then stops, then scans the room again. He’s trapped. He gathers himself, thinking it through, he might be able to talk his way out or use his influence. No, he knows the system is unsympathetic. This stupid mistake might have cost him everything.
Something metal slowly scrapes into the front door lock. A small electric shock swirls around the bolt and it snaps opens. Orion swings the door wide and comes face to face with a man dressed in all black.
“They’re coming for you,” the man states. His matter-of-fact tone underscores what Orion already knows.
“Who the hell are you?” Orion challenges.
The man grabs his shirt and swings him into the hall before he can react. He pins Orion against the wall, pushing his forearm into Orion’s neck hard e
nough to cut off his wind and spark his sense of urgency. Orion struggles, but he’s awkward and weak, with no skill at fighting. He’s a Hiveminder, and his brain is all the brawn he’s got.
The man moves within an inch of Orion's face, and in a raspy, serious voice, he states plain and simple, "In about thirty seconds the police are going to run around that soft, glowy curve. And when they do, they are going to ruthlessly shock you into unconsciousness without caring one way or another about it. You aren't going to reason with them, you aren't going to talk your way out. They will drag you out of here by your feet and your neighbors will never even know you were here." He puts a finer point on it then, "And in a day, or less, the world will never even know you existed."
Orion considers this for a moment. “Why…?”
The man cuts him off with a final push into Orion’s neck, then eases his grip long enough to reach in his coat and retrieve a small purple flower. He states, “My name is Evo. I’m here to get you out.” He hands it to Orion. “The choice though, is yours.”
The flower is identical to Iris’s contraband. It might even be the same one. The possibilities of what it means and where it might take him spin through his mind like a tornado. You might dream of something wild and exciting happening to you, or plan for the day that something unexpected crashes into your life and how you’ll deal with it. But when it happens, the surreal bizarreness of an actual moment of truth will bring your whole world into total clarity in a microsecond. Because the only second that matters, the only decision that matters, is the very next one you’ll make.
Orion carefully retrieves the flower, considers the hallway where the police will be coming from. Their footsteps already echo around the corkscrew corridor from lower levels. He looks back to Evo. “Okay.”
Evo steps back and gives Orion a little space, saying only, “Smart boy.” Then he runs the opposite direction from the police.
Orion races after him, venturing a last look back at the open door to what used to be his home.
CHAPTER 7
Evo is fast, and he’s not wasting any time. Orion’s been running these halls for years, but to jog his mind more than anything. A tiny effort to feel a little more animated inside a prescribed routine, but now, with the police charging behind him, the possibilities of the flower in his hand, and chasing a stranger at full speed to god knows what, Orion feels alive.
Except, Evo is running the corkscrew corridor toward the top!
Evo stops and glances back to see Orion is falling behind. “Are you serious? You’re not strolling home from maglev! Step on it!”
Orion arrives a second later horribly winded and leans into the wall, gulping breaths.
Evo produces a little digital-electric lockpick and inserts the metal tip into an inconspicuous hole in the wall. An electric shock buzzes and a door lock snaps open. He pushes and swings a nearly hidden door inward revealing an emergency access stairway leading into the dark. "Straight to the bottom," he jokes. "Seems like an emergency to me." And then he's inside and descending stairs three at a time.
Orion paces over to the exterior window overlooking the city. Societal Services dome in the distance, Green Zones shining like beacons, and the dim area of the dead zone where he last saw Iris. Then the reverb of police footsteps snaps him to his senses. He turns away and bolts through the access stairway door, slamming it behind him on the run as he chases after Evo.
By the time Orion starts his descent, Evo is easily four floors below and clearly not waiting.
Orion speeds up, taking two stairs at a time, leaping the last few to the landing and then down the next set. He peeks over the railing at Evo, slips a step and almost falls. He pauses to steady himself and looks up the stairwell. Several floors above the shapes of police pursuers enter the emergency access and begin their descent. Orion runs.
Floor after floor, Orion descends until he runs straight into Evo at the bottom, prying open a door that leads to a sub-basement. Evo pushes him off. “Open your eyes, man!” He steadies Orion and points into the darkness of the sub-basement. “This will take us under the complex to the other end,” Evo informs him. “I have a transport waiting.”
“How do you know this stuff?” Orion challenges.
“I have to,” is all Evo will say. Then he’s on the move again, into the shadows.
They run for about a half-mile through near total darkness. The entire time, Orion dreads he's going to slam straight into something and bash his nose in. He drags his hand along the wall to help maintain his course. He listens closely for Evo's footsteps ahead and figures if those stop, he'd better stop, too, and fast. At the same time splitting his attention to listen behind, hoping he won't hear the police. All along, the darkness and unfamiliar space are slowing him down.
Every couple hundred yards, another access tunnel intersects this one, no doubt leading to another building and other possibilities. After what seems like forever, a bit of light creeps under the bottom of a doorway ahead. Evo seems to rise in the darkness and seconds later, Orion realizes they are running up a long ramp. A second after that, Evo plows through a door without hesitation and dashes into the night.
The open door invites an orange-grey light into the hallway, showing the escape. Orion accelerates at sight of the assured exit.
He exits the building at ground level and skids to a stop, quickly scanning for Evo and trying to get his bearing. The building they emerge from is at the far end of his complex. No time to figure which, and it doesn’t matter anyway. Evo is already fifty feet away, rounding the personal transport at the curb. Orion has no choice, he follows.
The second the transport door is closed Evo rams the accelerator and races into the night. The towering complex quickly shrinks away behind them. It’s been Orion’s home for a decade or more, but now he imagines he’ll probably never see it again.
From the backseat a beautiful voice states softly, “I want my flower back.”
Orion turns and Iris stares at him. “Are you trying to get me in trouble?” he asks.
Evo slams the brakes. “I didn’t force you to get in! You chose to get in, and can get out whenever you want.”
Orion drops his eyes, unwilling to provoke Evo. He looks himself over, he’s vulnerable and he knows it. He shrinks casually against the door.
Iris calmly offers, “You can’t go back.”
Orion considers this while scanning the city outside the feeble confines of the vehicle. “Societal Services. Yeah, I should go there. I’m chair #1. They can’t lose me. They’ll make this right.”
“You can’t lie to yourself anymore, Hive man,” Evo scoffs, “so now you’re just lying for them.” He grabs Orion’s shirt and yanks him closer. “That’s exactly how they want it. Get lost!”
Orion considers this and shoves Evo’s hand off. He sinks back into the passenger seat. “What was that video? Who are you?”
Evo assumes the question is a sign that Orion is going for the ride, and he rams the accelerator. “We’re taking you to a dead zone.” He laughs. “Dead zone. Imagine that irony. It’s the only place there’s any real life.”
“This is important, Orion.” Iris lays her hand on his shoulder to reassure him. He turns to face her again. Her gaze is soft and genuine. “Were you happy when you viewed what I gave you?”
“Yes.”
“So was I,” she admits.
“I’ve never seen anything like that before.” Orion’s expression fills with hopeful innocence as the fantasy of that natural world hits him.
“It hit me the same way,” Iris adds.
Red and blue flashing lights reflect off the adjacent buildings and pull Orion’s attention to the connecting streets. At each intersection, he spots police transports paralleling them.
Evo sees them, too, but remains calm and sharp. He grumbles, “Those sons of bitches got here faster than I expected.” He slams the accelerator and races around the next corner.
A block ahead, Orion can already see the flashing
lights of a roadblock. Suddenly, their transport powers down and drifts to a stop at the side of the street.
“Shit!” Evo pounds the dashboard before he jumps out. He looks back to see that Orion hasn’t moved. He’s staring at the police lights. Evo raps on the roof to rattle his cage a little. “Hey! You already got your invitation.” He points at the police. “That’s your next one.”
Orion exits and turns back to help Iris. They follow Evo up the street but are quickly running out of room. The city never sleeps, and the crowds of people milling along sidewalks are gathering to snoop on the police, partly from curiosity and partly fear. The masses stifle a fast escape. Lighted signs, streetlamps, and Hivebeam cast so much light and exposure in all directions that every step Orion and Iris take is visible to everyone. Not to mention security cameras in practically every corner of the city.
Evo leads them through a narrow alleyway where there is no Hivebeam, and the drudge of unavoidable city byproduct cakes dirt on everything. Lights are getting dimmer and fewer ahead as they approach the closest dead zone. Near the end of the alley, before they step into a main street again, Orion stops short to listen.
Iris realizes that he’s fallen behind. “Evo, wait!” She turns back to Orion. “What the hell are you doing?”
“Listen,” Orion urges her. A whispering buzz draws their attention upward. It grows louder and second later, a hundred feet above them, a tiny camera drone flies straight up the path they took through the alley. He pushes Iris into the shadows.
Evo ducks into a dark cubby, too.
But Orion knows it’s already seen him, and he doesn’t try to hide.
“Orion, hide!” Iris implores.
“This is crazy. I shouldn’t be running.” Orion works to convince himself. The drone passes overhead moving very fast, so fast that it can’t stop easily and flies over the next building in a big sweeping arc as it prepares to return.