by M. Van
“You seemed to have a slight hesitation in your motor function. Perhaps your memory banks are reaching full capacity.”
“Hesitation?” I asked. It seemed obvious what he meant. I had hesitated in carrying out the judge’s verdict.
“Just an observation,” he said, “I cannot confirm, but I will report the incident after we return to headquarters.”
With that, he turned on his heels, and I followed him to the mouth of the alley.
Chapter two
At the end of the alley, it was as if we’d stepped into a different world. We had ventured into one of the few main streets that would lead all the way up to the center of the city, and it bustled with activity.
Because this was one of the main streets, it held a central Hymag line. The spirals that held the aerodynamically shaped transportation pod curled their way along the length of the street until they disappeared around a bend. Electromagnetic energy surged through the spirals, keeping the pod and its passengers secure as it propelled the transport at high velocity from A to B within the confines of the dome. These Hymag lines were a simplified version of the transport we used for travel between the remaining cities, and although these were a lot smaller, they still took up most of the street.
People who were unlikely to ever travel inside one of those Hymags maneuvered around and over the fast-moving pieces of technology as if the Hymags didn’t exist at all. Hymags were reserved for the upper-class members of society, although that distinction would never be made by any government official.
The lesser privileged used metal scaffolds, constructed to climb over the spirals. These structures, aiding to cross the street, rose as high as a two-story building and gave the people living in this area access to the different parts of the city.
The people crowding the streets came in all varieties. Because of the humidity, most were dressed in flimsy garments that hung loosely around their bodies. The light-yellow clothing stood out against the hard-gray bricks where the rainbow lights decorating the buildings up top couldn’t find their way down to the streets.
Although the area sat packed with people even at these late hours, traveling through the masses didn’t take much of an effort on our part. We stood out in our black-armored uniforms with embedded exoskeletons and weapons. In these suits, we appeared taller and more impressive in general. Also, the green lights that reflected of our heads-up displays made us attract attention as if we had set off a beacon.
As soon as we were spotted, people almost froze on the spot. Years of interaction with the enforcers roaming the streets kept them from stopping, though. Through some unconscious, almost animal, instinct, they would step aside and make room for us to pass. Citizens feared us for what we could do to them, but tonight they seemed especially skittish.
Fortunately, most of the glares passed me and fell on 877. Like me, not many had seen an enforcer without his heads-up display covering most of his face.
As we walked side by side, an incoming message blinked across my screen. Because 877 had lost the use of his heads-up, I read our next assignment aloud as I received it.
“Severe breach of conduct, enforcers in distress—assistance requested immediately.”
I glanced up at 877 as I relayed the location. It had been a busy night already, and it seemed it wasn’t about to let up. Enforcer 877 looked down at the device he held in his hand. Although still formidable, he wouldn’t be as effective in the field without the aid of his heads-up, and besides, it was against regulations. It wasn’t just orders we received through the device; the heads-up also recorded everything that happened around us and could be used to validate our conduct.
“Have additional support responded to the call?” he asked in a hushed tone. I nodded.
“Two units have been dispatched,” I said. This meant four enforcers had responded to the call. 877 and I would be five and six.
“That should suffice,” he said, but I held up my hand before he could say anything else. Another message blinked across my screen.
“Additional support is demanded, and our presence is required,” I said. Enforcer 877 gave me a placid look. Not a single muscle in his face moved as he seemed to calculate his next decision.
“You move in,” he finally said. “I will join you once my HUD is replaced.”
Left standing on my own, I watched as the crowd dispersed and made room for 877 to pass them as he ran in the direction from which we had come. He disappeared as the crowd dispersed and returned to what they had been doing in the first place.
A repeat of the message appeared on my screen, and I started to make my way toward the scene of the crime. It seemed a bit overkill to send a fifth enforcer to a breach of conduct case even if they were severe and an enforcer was in distress. Usually, only a handful of enforcers would be able to take on a crowd of five hundred.
I started to run, but even with people shouting ahead to warn others of my approach, my progress was less than what I was used to. Midrun, I glanced up past the array of colorful lights and sought a good spot to climb a building. Traffic was a lot less heavy up high than down here on the ground. I spotted a ladder suspended over a door inside a recess in the wall of one of the buildings.
It was another escape route, and the ladder would be lowered if the inhabitants needed a rapid exit. With the exoskeleton embedded in my suit, the jump to reach the ladder would be easy enough, but an image on one of the display screens of a nearby shop drew my attention.
A mere advertisement shouldn’t have been able to distract me like that, but this image wasn’t anything like the colorful, fast-paced commercials for taste enhancers to add a little more flavor to our diet of converted mushrooms and molds.
I stopped for a moment and glanced at the unmoving picture. I blinked and gasped. It was her—the woman whose picture sat stuck in my head. This was a different picture, but I was sure it was her.
There didn’t appear to be a message or an advertisement attached to the image displayed. I checked the other screens in the window display, and they all showed the same standard news items that were always broadcasted across the feed.
Most of the mainstream information like the news was broadcast by ArtRep Enterprises across the feed and could be received by most any electronic device—if in range. ArtRep maintained the basic infrastructure and controlled the central network, although it was a known fact that anyone with enough knowledge of the system would be able to link up. Basically, anyone could tap into the vast communication network and download or upload anything they wanted or needed to know or share. But because ArtRep was also the same company that built us, Artificial Representations, caution was advised not to engage in any illegal activities. Heavy penalties were put in place to discourage people with malicious intent to hack the system and undermine the government, but that didn’t stop them from trying. For some people, the flow of information was a powerful thing, and it was up to the ARs to stop them.
As I returned my gaze to the picture, it baffled me for a moment for as far as anything could even baffle me. I snapped out of it as my heads-up beeped and a reminder of the impending emergency blinked in the corner of my screen. Redirecting my focus, I moved into the recess in the wall and jumped to grab hold of the ladder. Hoisting myself up, I started my way up to the roof.
I pushed the woman’s image from my mind and focused on jumping from rooftop to rooftop until I reached the location my heads-up had directed me to. Around me, the world looked peaceful, even with the residual gleam of the sun dominating the sky. The sun’s increased illumination kept the nights from being what they used to be and blocked out everything else space had to offer. It was only from the history files embedded in my memory banks that I knew that, once, billions of stars had decorated our night skies, but none of those were visible anymore.
Below me, the streets seemed abandoned, and I checked the location given to me earlier. I had come to the right spot, but apparently, whatever had happened had played out without me, and the other enforcer
s must have dealt with the situation. Because the file hadn’t been closed and I hadn’t been issued any other orders, I presumed my presence was still required. If it hadn’t, my heads-up would have informed me. I decided to investigate and descended to ground level.
Cautiously, I walked into the street and scanned the area. This was one of the side streets, far from any main streets and Hymag lines. High above me, spotlights blazed, lighting up the buildings, but the shop windows on the lower levels of those buildings looked dark and empty. Usually, shops, or government distribution outlets as they were officially known, were open 24/7 in this district. Except for two black multiperson speeders, the street sat deprived of vehicles.
Unable to detect anything with my heads-up display, I started to jog and scanned the side alleys as I ran. I maintained a steady pace until a figure stepped onto the otherwise empty street. This caught me by surprise because there hadn’t been any signs of life indicated by my heads-up. This person must have been standing in a secluded spot that my scans had been unable to reach. Maybe he or she had hidden there during the reported turmoil.
As I closed the distance, I noticed the figure to be a woman. She stood in the middle of my path, wearing heavy boots, black pants, and a sturdy black jacket in good condition—too good for this neighborhood. Her clothing seemed odd and looked nothing like what residents of this city usually wore, although I recognized the style.
According to my memory bank, it appeared to be something people living in Subterra might wear. Subterra was one of the four remaining cities, but unlike the other three, it was built underground where temperatures were lower and heavier clothing would be required. It also wasn’t a part of the Combined Districts of Tenebrae. With the growing unrest and government upheaval between the districts and Subterra, it seemed unlikely for a citizen of Subterra to find her way to the City of Umbras. One certainly wouldn’t want to stand out as she was doing right now.
It wasn’t as if Subterrans weren’t allowed here, but you never knew who you’d come across. Umbras citizens had the tendency to hold some radical views, which might lead to situations that could be threatening to any Subterran.
A few strands of short blond hair poked out from under the cap that hid her eyes and most of her face. Black lines of what looked to be the remnants of a tattoo were visible as they strayed from her neck over to her collarbone, but I couldn’t decipher the design.
As I got closer, she didn’t move from my path. I had never encountered anyone who hadn’t moved from my path, and my CPU seemed to have a hard time processing the anomaly. Even the citizens of Subterra knew of our existence. This was a rough neighborhood, tough, and perhaps these folks weren’t as impressed by an enforcer as I might have been led to believe. The distance between the woman and me quickly evaporated, and I couldn’t fathom why she wouldn’t move.
I switched to a stride and stopped in front of her. She didn’t react. Watching her for a moment, I contemplated my next move and searched the information available in my database, but it was as if it wasn’t there anymore. Like the failure to detect the woman’s presence, my heads-up display did not react now, either.
I was about to start another system check when a green light flashed so brightly it hurt my eyes, and my vision went white. Blinking, I fought to see and caught the woman lifting her gaze. As I realized what my eyes were seeing, I gasped at the stabbing pain attacking the back of my skull. Circuits went wild, shorting, then flaring, rendering the information on my screen a blur of green blobs. I stepped back, trying to keep my balance while that same woman from the picture stuck in my mainframe stared back at me.
As enforcers, our bodies were well protected by the best technology had to offer, but this pain wasn’t external. This pain came from within, as if someone had set my CPU on fire, and I clamped my mouth shut to keep myself from screaming.
As the pain started to subside, I bent over to catch my breath, and as my vision settled, I noticed the woman hadn’t moved an inch. Heat rose up my neck and crept into my cheeks as I straightened. In that same moment, I realized that feeling embarrassed was a human emotion that didn’t belong to an artificial representation. Something was definitely off with my programming.
My heads-up display flashed again, blinding me once more, and I ripped it from my head. Unsettled by the exposure and my inability to react appropriately toward certain threats without the device, I swirled my head around to check my surroundings. Inhaling deeply, I decided to accept my abilities had been impaired. If anything did happen, I would have to deal with it on my own without the heads-up and without backup.
I turned my attention to the woman still standing motionless in front of me. It took me a moment to realize that there was moisture in her blue eyes. She blinked, and water rolled down her cheeks. For some reason, I recognized the pain radiating from behind those eyes. It seemed to grab me by the throat, and I figured another circuit must have gone down because I couldn’t breathe. Her lower lip quivered as she opened her mouth, and for a moment I thought she might speak, but she didn’t.
Still, she captured my full attention, and I barely heard the high-pitched hum of one of the multiperson speeders I had passed earlier as it started its engine.
The woman’s eyes flickered for a beat from me to the speeder but then focused back on me. Her quivering lip rose at the corner for just a smidgen. It lifted some of the pain from her expression but then transformed into concern. I couldn’t pull my gaze from her as the speeder pulled up next to us, and the black door of the vehicle flew open.
With a slight hesitation, the woman turned on her heel and slipped inside the speeder. My limbs seemed frozen to the ground, and I just stood there as I watched the aerodynamically shaped lines of the speeder disappear around a corner.
Chapter three
Darkness filled the room as I sat in my corner of Memory Junction and tried to remember what had happened. The tech guy had come, done his thing, and left a while ago. As expected, he had hooked me and all the other artificial representations up to the machine and started the memory-wipe process.
Because the steps he had to go through belonged to my basic procedural information database, I had followed his movements closely to check if he hadn’t missed anything, and he hadn’t. Therefore, it didn’t make much sense that I was still sitting here in the dark, wondering about that image inside my head. Added to that, I sat there wondering about all the other things that had happened.
I still remembered the fear on that boy’s face right before I’d ended his life. I remembered seeing the ad of that same woman I had later met on the abandoned street. How could this be possible? The tech guy was supposed to have rid me of all those memories, but instead, I sat there thinking about them.
Around me about a dozen artificial representations sat in their chairs, staring blankly at the ceiling. Memory Junction wasn’t much of a room—just a bare space with white walls and a round desk in the middle decked with flat-screen monitors. Wires ran from the central computer and led to the chairs that were placed in a circle around the table. Why wasn’t I staring at that same ceiling?
Green lights blinked on the heads-up displays in five-second intervals all around me and it started to unnerve me, which in itself felt unnerving. I had never felt unnerved in my short existence, or if I had, I couldn’t remember it.
Thoughts of meeting that woman collided inside my head. I went over every detail of the meeting over and over. Her blond short cut hair hidden underneath her cap. The tattoo that barely revealed itself from under her collar. Those blue eyes boring into me as a tear rolled down her cheek. The twitch of her mouth as it briefly lifted into a smile before concern took over and pain filled her eyes again. Even though she looked older than she had in the image stuck in my head, it all felt so familiar, but how could it? How could I feel anything?
The tech guy would have downloaded the information gathered by my heads-up, but he hadn’t mentioned any problems, so perhaps there weren’t any, and it was a
ll in my head, some glitch in my CPU. Although that didn’t seem right. Something was going on, and I knew I should have spoken up, but that hadn’t felt right either. This was my secret, and I wanted to keep it. Furthermore, I wanted to unravel it.
A beep sounded, and luminescent lights flickered on inside the room. Surprised, I checked my heads-up and noticed it was night again. The door swung open, and a wide-eyed young man stepped into the room. The messy hair on the tech guy’s head jumped in all directions as he raked a hand through it. He had a cup in his hand, and a heads-up device analyzer or HDA for short stuck between his teeth. The cylindrical device would normally be used in the field to analyze a faulty headset and considering its sensitivity; I wouldn’t have advised chewing on it. This information must have gotten past the tech guy though.
Without acknowledging any of us sitting in the chairs, he strolled to the desk and hit a couple of keys on a pad before he even sat down.
There was a buzzing sound, and then all the chairs started to move into an upright position. Green lights blinked erratically on the heads-up displays around me, and my fellow artificial representations came to life. As if awoken from comatose sleeps, they stretched their limbs and bones cracked. With purpose, the ARs slipped from their seats and moved toward the door.
The green light on my own heads-up device blinked as well, and knowing what was expected of me, I mimicked the others and followed them outside, but there was no sense of the compulsion to do what was expected of me as there had been yesterday. Why did I remember yesterday’s expectations? The thought set off a strange sensation that lingered inside my head.
My central processing unit was definitely malfunctioning, and I knew I should report it, but I had no desire to do so. Besides, reporting the malfunction might have me end up in the maintenance ward where some eager technician could decide to cut me open. I shivered at the thought—another strange sensation, but one that made me stand by my decision not to come forward.