Before he could say anything else a shot fired and ricocheted off the wall behind his head.
“Goddamn it!” Xander dived behind the bar, his jacket flailing behind him, as he rolled into cover behind the bar. The frog released the barmaid and threw her towards Xander, as he jumped back in line with his colleagues. Xander checked the barmaid was all right before adjusting position.
“Don’t suppose you guys want to discuss this over an Old Fashioned?” He shouted over the bar. Several shots cascaded above him, shattering bottles and sprayed a mixture of glass and alcohol over Xander.
“Have it your way,” he shouted back.
Pulling his revolver out, he tapped the fingerprint scanner on its side with his thumb to unlock the safety and another double tap on one of the side buttons registered his desired ammo type. He fired the gun straight upwards then, almost immediately, he pulled the trigger again. As he did, the bullet which was on course to the ceiling, had a secondary detonation, causing it to change direction at a ninety-degree angle and fly over the bar towards the Sliders. Xander knew the chances of it hitting a target were slim but he counted on the distraction to give him a few moments to slide down the bar, to get into a better position.
He heard a smash from behind the counter, as the bullet broke a light fitting on the opposite wall; he crawled quickly down the bar to the far end. The red lights flickering from the damage.
“Come out here old man! We just want the money,” a voice shouted.
Xander nodded to the barmaid, who was curled up in a ball opposite him. Looking around, he saw a keg of beer attached to a draught pump above and a gas canister below. He quickly uncoupled it and lay the gas canister on its side.
“You guys want to give up now or after I’ve hurt you some more?” He shouted, moving the cannister down the bar until it poked slightly out, the nozzle facing Xander. More shots fired above the bar, Xander retaliated with more bi-directional bullets before he unscrewed the valve on the canister. Within seconds, the pressure of gas erupting from the nozzle caused it to spin away uncontrollably from Xanders’ grip and into the bar.
Shouts of confusion from the Sliders gave Xander the opportunity he needed. Getting to his feet he managed to take two careful aims at the panicking Sliders, he fired. Bullets flew straight into their heads, blood splattering over the last one left standing, the frog. He crouched, his amphibian legs poised for action, though his eyes betrayed his fear.
“Get outta here and tell your boss this bar is out of his patch,” Xander said, pointing to the door with his revolver.
He looked at the three bodies on the floor, the blood flashing black as the lights stuttered on and off. The holographic dragon swooped down over the dance floor and let out a burst of steam. This was the last straw, the frog turned and ran from the bar.
Xander leaned down and pulled the barmaid up from the floor.
“Sorry about the mess,” was all he said before taking the last intact bottle of bourbon off the shelf, grabbing a glass, and headed to a table.
This was the work he was used to since losing his job at the MPD. The expose wasn’t what annoyed Xander; he wanted the corrupt cops to get to hell as fast as the devil could take them, but Henshaw, he’d been killing people for years and they’d finally caught the bastard. That the piece of shit was walking free had been too much. Xander had attacked him as he left the courthouse and left him a bloody mess on the steps. He was still alive, roaming the streets, and that ate Xander up. Not only had he lost the case and his job, but it had all been for nothing.
Now, he took any cases that made money, but his reputation of violence preceded him and mostly, he just worked protection and security services to make ends meet.
Finishing a third glass of straight Bourbon, he got up from the table and walked out of the bar, the barmaid who was sweeping up the broken glass paused to let him pass.
“Thank you Mr Draven,” The barmaid said, Xander nodded in acknowledgment.
The cool night air did Xander good, as he breathed in and let the cold sit on his lungs for a second before exhaling. He heard sirens approaching; he needed to be gone before they got there. Three dead sliders wouldn’t make the headlines but he didn’t want to deal with the questioning that came with a police report. Sliders had been slowly spreading into the Boulevard in the last couple of years. Mostly they were just junk-heads who worked for the local gang leaders so they could get their next Aug, but they were becoming more of a problem.
Taking several steps down the street, he passed a few more late night bars, all of which had the newest bar room technology which matched their neon facades and holographic hosts. Whilst he didn’t hate technology overall, he felt it had too much control on the lives of those who used it. The world saw the AI Judges as being the perfect courtroom system, non-bias and would only take the facts as proof with zero human emotion. Unfortunately, this system had its flaws, as was clear in the Henshaw case. Sure the evidence was corrupt, but the crimes remained. Yet the judge deemed one anomaly in a case to be enough for reasonable doubt. Ever since, Xander would only take user-controlled tech as reliable.
He passed a few more bars; the neon enhanced by the drizzle of rain which fell. Xander turned the collar up on his jacket against the rain before stopping off at a convenience store. The white lights inside made him squint for a moment as his eyes adjusted.
“Hey Mr D,” the young clerk called as he entered, “Usual bottle?”
Xander shrugged, finding it hard to decide if being that predictable with alcohol was a good or bad thing.
“Sure, and throw in a pack of smokes too, not the synthetic crap the proper stuff. Thanks Howie.”
It was more expensive because of the difficulties in growing tobacco in the Metro but Xander could taste the artificial ingredients in the synthetic cigarettes like burning electrics.
“No worries Mr D, I know you like quality!” Howie grinned and passed a bottle of bourbon and a pack to Xander. He pulled out a wad of notes and handed them over.
“When you going to upgrade Mr D?” Howie asked, pointing to his forearm where his PDA was attached, its connected wireless credit system the most common of all the augmentations.
“Never Howie, I don’t want no electrical crap stuck inside my arm, don’t get why anyone would,” he replied, his usual response for Howie’s daily query.
“Ah, you will one day Mr D, I guarantee it. Soon, no one can last in this world without it!”
“Well, I’ll be the last true flesh and bone human on that day Howie.”
Xander smiled, as he took his change and walked back out into the drizzle. He lit a cigarette under the store's awning, inhaling deep, he scanned the streets. The rain was so commonplace that the streets remained busy. He stepped out and turned to head back to his apartment, which doubled as his office.
Located in Megatown the office was a middle apartment in the large concrete building which remained from the old days before the expansion of high rises took over the cites. It had stairs and no lift but Xander liked it for its charm. As he made his way up, he smiled a greeting to several neighbors but spoke little. While they knew him for helping the local community, they also saw him as somewhat a thug. As such, he was viewed as more of a necessary evil than a genuinely good person. He could live with that as he wouldn’t have called himself anything else.
Arriving at his apartment, he swung the door open and walked in, before locking it behind him and collapsing on the sofa, which served as a waiting space for any clients. It was pristine from lack of use.
CHAPTER 4
Prime
His eyes opened.
Who am I?
Where am I?
The thoughts crept into his mind before answers appeared, slotting into place like plugs into sockets.
I am number 733
I am at work, and my shift is just beginning.
733 looked around him. He was laying at a slight incline inside a large vertical cylinder. He raised and pressed his hand against t
he glass panel in front of him, as his hand glanced the glass it slid sideways with a hiss. The smell of fresh air filled his nostrils.
As he stepped forward, he was aware of many other pods lining the pathways, which ran left to right as far as the eye could see. Glancing down, he saw the grey jumpsuit he was wearing, his feet covered with boots. More thoughts slotted into place within his mind, though they felt foreign and not his own.
I am a perfect employee. My main goal is guest satisfaction and aligning this with the customer needs. I should return to my post upstairs to action my goal.
With that he turned and walked down the pathway to the left, heading towards a white door, which seemed to be the only entrance point to the room. He was aware of the large warehouse space he was in.
As he walked, he examined several pods on his way. Inside were bodies of varying stages of development. Some were only babies, whilst others looked teenage and others in the mid adulthood.
What do I look like?
The thought formed in his brain, but within moments the thought vanished, forced out by another.
I should get my uniform on.
Arriving at the door, he pushed it open. Revealing a large cloakroom with multiple lockers stacked around a large square area, a second door was at the far corner of the room.
Where is my locker?
Scanning the lockers, 733 found one with his designation on it and pulled it open. Inside, a pair of black trousers hung from a hanger; a white shirt and black tie also hung on a separate hanger. Polished black shoes sat on the bottom of the locker.
I need to get dressed.
He changed, making sure every crease was in line. The fit of the clothes was perfect.
Time to go to work. Swipe in.
On the opposite side of the room, next to the second door, was a small panel with a retina scanner. He walked over to it and a flash of light glared into his eye.
733 opened the second door in the room. Through it, the hustle and bustle of the Grand Falls Hotel came into view.
The large foyer area was lit in a dazzling white, with several large chandeliers hanging from the high ceiling, illuminating the room. All the decor was a brilliant white with gold trim. Several luxurious armchairs were scattered around room opposite the long reception desk which spanned the centre of the room. There was little to no invasive technology, fitting with an almost ragtime era aesthetic, which was furthered by the smooth jazz music piping out of unseen speakers.
Among the varying guests, 733 observed several waiters, service staff and receptionists all conducting their duties. Something about them felt off to 733. He gave it a minute, before a call from someone at the reception desk stole his attention back.
“Reilly can you help this gentleman with his bags ,please," the receptionist chimed, looking directly at 733.
733….7ee… Reilly. I am Reilly and am ready to serve.
Suddenly, everything slotted into place in Reilly’s mind. All doubts and questions faded. As if someone had flicked a switch, his whole demeanor changed, he stood upright, arms straight, shoulders back. His mouth stretching into a huge smile, revealing a perfect set of teeth.
“Of course Jan,” he walked towards the desk, “How are we today sir? Wonderful weather for your visit, here let me help you with that,”
Picking up the bags, he motioned for the guest to follow him. 733 was no more, there was only Reilly. Whatever thoughts 733 had developed were being replaced with the perfect service of Reilly the Porter.
The evening had drawn in, Reilly was now sat behind the quiet reception desk, scanning the check-in reports for the hotel. No additional requirements further to complete, all jobs completed for the shift. There were no guests around at the time and he was aware of several members of staff arriving for the start of their shift.
“Evening,” he nodded at the arrivals. His energy levels were low, and he was glad of the arrivals as it meant finishing time was close. They met him with silence, all three of the night reception team’s faces were blank, as if they were sleeping.
As the team came around the desk, Lee stood and smiled at them in an attempt to wake them from their slumber, but to no avail. Suddenly, the rotating door at the entrance moved, and a well-dressed couple strolled in, greeting the desk as they approached. As if triggered by an electric prod, the nights team came to life.
“Hey Reilly, how are you?” One of them sang, “Bet you’re glad to be finishing!”
Then, as if the arrivals had surprised them;
“Oh, I didn’t see you there! Welcome to Grand Falls Hotel! How are you today! Wow, you guys look amazing! Let’s get you checked in!”
Throughout this performance, Lee looked puzzled. Hesitantly he tried to say something, when a thought popped into his head which eliminated all others.
Time to finish. Let’s swipe out.
With that, all other thoughts that had been forming before, dissipated and Reilly was calm. Rising from his seat, he waved to the nights team.
“Hey, see you later, guys! Have a great evening!” And to the couple checking in, “Have a great stay!”
With that, he turned and headed back towards the door he had used to enter the hotel earlier that morning. Walking up to it, another retina scanner was next to door.
Time to finish.
Leaning forward, he put his eye to the scanner, a flash of light.
Then darkness.
CHAPTER 5
Jacob
A large neon red crucifix loomed over the corner of Broadway and Finch. Fixed above the large double wooden doors of Saint Damien's Church, the cross was illuminated all day and night.
The church had stood on the corner since the Metropolis was nothing more than a small village, but over time the religion had waned in correlation as technology rose. Fewer people prayed to a God, as they now prayed for likes and online presence. The area surrounding the church became less popular as the masses moved towards the central light of the new technological beacon within the opposite side of the city. In the singularity's wake, they abandoned the church, the doors chained up, and the windows boarded. The building now stood in as the central point of the downtown area of the city, where those of lower technological desire lived.
Until five years ago.
The man shuffled up to the chained doors of the church. His body covered in a tattered robe, the hints of a ragged beard emerging from under his hood. He rested his hands on the chains across the door and with one swift pull, the rotting wood splintered and released the bolts holding the chain.
A slow, deep moaning creak emerged as the giant doors slowly swung inward. The noise, so loud in the quiet of the street, caused several of the locals to raise their heads and take notice.
Once inside, the man walked down the centre aisle, his steps brushing aside years worth of cobwebs and dust that eddied into the air. He walked straight up to the alter at the top of the aisle and dropped to his knees under the half-broken statue of the crucifixion and prayed.
He stayed there, on his knees praying for twenty-four hours with no food or drink. He prayed non-stop until his lips and tongue were dry and cracked. His words only a whisper, no-one could make them out, only the long humming drone of syllables. Several of the locals investigated what this strange newcomer was doing and why. Overnight, tens of people had entered the church and took seats along the pews, brushing away the dust and watching the man. Watching and waiting, they hoped for at least some real-life entertainment, in contrast to the diet of online media they consumed daily. Some had left bottles of water and small donations of food around the man, yet still he prayed appearing to not notice any of the items now scattered around him.
Eventually, twenty-four hours exactly from the moment he arrived, he stopped praying.
Turning his head slowly, achingly, as if a statue was turning its head for the first time, he saw a bottle of water close to him and reached slowly for it.
He unscrewed the cap and took a long, gulping drink from
the bottle. Not stopping until he had finished, he placed the bottle on the ground next to him and looked upwards at people who had flocked to see him. Amongst the human eyes staring at him from the crowd, he also saw many digital screens and cybernetic eyes all recording and broadcasting what they saw.
Standing slowly, he reached out his hand from under the robe and pointed at a woman who was sitting closest to him. Her arm was a mess of cheap circular metallic implants, one for wireless connectivity, another showing her current heart rate and step count. The veins around the implants were raised, a purple cobweb of infection spreading from each connection. The clear signs of T-Pox caused by non-biological incompatibility. She looked confused at first, until the man turned his hand over and beckoned her to join him.
Getting up from the pew, she shuffled towards him slowly. She reached him and he took her hand. Pulling her close, he kissed her forehead before turning her towards the gathered crowd.
“This woman, just like all of you before me today, is blinded. Fooled. Deceived and tricked by the Devil of this world. It has infected you and pulled you into a deep abyss, the illusion of connectivity. When in reality, the more connected you are to this evil, the less connected you are to yourself and the spiritual soul!”
He used a fingernail on his right hand to scratch a long cut in his own left forearm. Blood immediately trickled down his arms and dripped to the floor below.
“I was pulled from this evil and have regained my vision. This gift has been given to me and I will help you all return into the true nature of the human soul.”
Before she could resist, the man put his forearm to her lips, blocking her nostrils as he did, she had no choice but to open her mouth and allow some of his blood to pour into her mouth. Choking she tried to move away but he held her tightly.
“It will not be easy, for nothing worth having is. The path to your salvation will be painful as it rips you apart from the masquerade of the world.”
He released her. She fell to the floor screaming as a red flaming heat ran through her entire body, like hot lava was pulsing through her veins. Scratching at her own skin, she rolled on the floor. The gathered masses rose to their feet, some rushing towards her to help. Before they reached her, the man threw the robe off his shoulders, revealing a long blade strapped to his side. He didn't draw it but raised a palm to the crowd, making them stop in their tracks.
Neon Helix Page 2