Shadow Life

by Jason Mather

  The situation in room had diffused slightly, though the parties still occupied opposite territories. There were three boys in their teens, two cowering, one standing firm, staring defiantly at her. She appeared not to notice. The man on the floor now was sitting in neutral territory with his back against the wall. Hans tried again to calm things down.

  “Thank you. We’re sorry for the violent intrusion. We had an emergency on our hands and overreacted a bit.” He tried for an aw-shucks smile and failed miserably.

  The older man was still wheezing, holding his stomach. Hans felt Onyx’s glare on him, tried to calmly return it. She won again, and turned and walked back into the entrance.

  “What happened outside?” This from one of the boys.

  “I don’t know,” Hans lied, “earthquake maybe. Something shook the whole street out there, knocked our car around.”

  “Is that your car outside?”

  Hans nodded, the car just visible in the rising dust storm, the light going orange as the cloud blocked the sunlight. The room darkened.

  “Do you work for Brigham?” the man on the floor asked him.

  “No.” Where had that come from?

  “That’s one of his cars. Where’d you get it?”

  “I… we… took it from him.”

  “So, you’re one of his lackeys. Is that woman with the knife one of his whores?”

  Hans hoped Onyx hadn’t heard that. Through the doorway he could see her in the entrance, talking on her comm. Fine dust swirled in around her through the crack in the door, catching the light and throwing odd shadows. She didn’t move. Hans didn’t know how to respond, felt the situation souring. The older woman entered.

  “That girl you brought in is,” she said.

  He didn’t know what to say to that.

  “Her hymen’s gone, been gone awhile, I checked as part of the routine.”

  Hans wasn’t sure if he should be thankful they’d come across someone capable or not.

  “Yes, she was,” he admitted, knowing it was useless to lie. “We brought her out as the place was coming down. She was hurt when part of the building came down on her. Is she ok?”

  The woman stared at him, analyzing his face. Made a decision.

  “No, she’s not. She’s had severe trauma to the head, her brain is bruised, swelling. I gave her something that should counteract the swelling. She needs to stay immobile, preferably in a hospital.”

  “Are you a doctor?”

  “No, I was an EMT.”

  “Not anymore?”

  “No.”

  “Why?”

  “I got married.”

  — «» —

  The woman, whose name was Marion, asked if they wouldn’t mind staying in the study. Hans managed to cajole Onyx into agreeing. Something significant was wrong, he could see it on her face. Even during what they’d just been through, she’d never shown a chink in her armor. Now she looked frustrated and slightly shocked. She shut the door, wedged the room’s only chair against it.

  “We’ve got a problem,” she said

  “You mean besides the crater we left and the family we just took hostage?”

  She waved her hand dismissively. “We need to get out of here quickly.”

  “Obviously.”

  She glared at him, and he pretended not to notice. The dust cloud outside had almost completely blocked the sun now. Hans walked around the desk, flipped on the lamp, closed the curtain, stood behind the desk, arms crossed. Her invincibility was on temporary hiatus.

  “Tell me again you’re not responsible for that explosion. Make me believe it.”

  “We don’t have time for…”

  “I’m not going anywhere with a mass murderer. I may not like people, but at least I have respect for human life. Up until now I thought you might have some sense of honor, however warped. Now there’s a pile of innocent bodies behind us. Convince me or I walk.”

  “So caring all of a sudden. The only life you seem uncaring for is your own.”

  “It’s my right, Ms. Petrovich, it’s my life. Convince me.”

  “We planned on taking down the building. The process would have only taken a few dozen pods.”

  “We? Meaning you and whoever you’ve been talking to.”

  “Yes. There was a problem. Something took over our control. It detonated them all.”

  “All being how many?”

  “About fifteen hundred.”

  Hans whistled softly, “So along with anything else, these things are bombs?”

  “They can be. Hans, we were not trying to kill civilians, just Brigham and his men.”

  “And any number of slaves and whores he had on premises.”

  “Yes. Better than with him.”

  “And that was your decision to make?”

  Onyx gestured toward the body on the couch. “You don’t agree? Look at her Hans, look where you found her. He buys them from families so poor they can’t afford to raise the kids the church tells them to have. Just barely out of puberty, some of them much younger, forced to service Brigham and anyone else he hands them to. Better death than that. I know. I would kill a thousand Brighams, a million of his men, to stop what you saw. It’s my decision to make because I’m the only one willing to make it. But I would never do what you saw outside. It was supposed to be just his building. Something went wrong, something took over, and now I can’t even reach my support.”

  She was genuinely shaken, almost spitting the words at him. He resisted an urge to put an arm around her, since he didn’t want to get stabbed. Hans’ anger faded, fear rising in its wake.

  “OK, I believe you. I’m glad Brigham’s dead. You didn’t intend this. Can we get out of here without your friend’s help? Get a car, get past police.”

  “There’s another way.”

  “What’s that?”

  “The sphere you picked up.”

  He’d forgotten about it in the escape. The reason for their trip. The reason for his near death. The reason for all of this. He instinctively put a hand in his pocket, felt its shape, still in the cloth she’d given him. “You can use this to get us out?”

  “No. You can.”

  “I thought it was supposed to be lethal?”

  “It’s lethal, or nearly so, to anyone with any electronic modifications. Not to you.”

  “You said that before. You’re not bullshitting me?”

  “No.”

  “So, what does it do?”

  She pursed her lips, held back.

  “Look, Yana, I’ve just been through hell with you. I’ve done what you asked. No more lies about this thing. I deserve an answer, and I’m not going to help otherwise.” He crossed his arms, trying desperately to exude a confidence he didn’t feel.

  She relented. “It does a few different things, all of them important. What we need right now is its primary function. It’s a universal access point. It can access any network instantly.”

  “I have one of those already. It’s called a portable.”

  “Not like this. This can access any network, break any encryption, control any connected system, even those not connected if it’s close enough. It’s universal access, ultimate control.”

  Hans realized this should impress him more, but the answer underwhelmed. His mind couldn’t grasp why this was worth all the trouble. He’d spent his life trying to disconnect as much as possible. Complete immersion was not his idea of enjoyment, but neither did he want to die or be imprisoned here. If it could get them out he’d give it a shot.

  “You don’t understand?” she asked.

  “No, but I’ll try.”

  “Have a seat then.”

  He sat down next to Lorilei, double-checking for her pulse. “OK, so what do I do?”

  “Unwrap it, hold it in your hand for a few moments.”

  “Then what?”

  “Then it works.”

  “It didn’t when I picked it up before.”

  “You didn’t consciously wa
nt access then.”

  He was skeptical. “How will I know when it’s working?”

  “It will tell you.”

  “Have you done this before?”

  “You’re the first we’ve found who can access it.”

  “And you’re sure this won’t kill me?”

  She actually laughed a bit at him. “You ask a lot of questions.”

  “Death makes me curious.”

  “No one has tried it because no one can. There is no one hundred percent guarantee. This is your chance to save the girl, to make good on those other deaths, to seize control. Take it and we can escape. Or we can run for our lives, maybe be shot down, and the girl can go back to whoring.”

  She was manipulating him now, goading him into action. He hated it, but there was too much truth in what she was saying to back out. Hans pulled the sphere from his pocket, removed the cloth. It sat in his hand, jet-black, featureless, sucking in the light. So much loss for this. Maybe he could get his own back. Maybe he’d end up a smoking corpse. Onyx had kept things from him, kept things from herself even, but she’d never straight up lied to him. If this could do what she said, then she was taking a risk revealing it to him. She had chosen to trust him, so he would do likewise. He turned his hand over and dropped the sphere into his other palm. It was cool to the touch, the surface slightly rough.

  Then, nothing. He chuckled at his fear.

  “Well, that’s a bust,” he said. “You sure it’s not broken?”

  Onyx shrugged, “I can’t use it, I don’t know exactly what will happen.”

  They waited, nothing. A minute passed, two. Boredom set in. The owners of this house would not allow them privacy much longer, probably had called whatever service functioned as police around here.

  Then… something.

  A word at the bottom left corner of his vision, sitting so plainly he wondered how long it had been there.

  Access?

  The question mark was blinking.

  He moved his head, and the word kept its place, moving across wall and ceiling, curving slightly as it followed the shape of the globe. He’d seen hyper-reality before; they used it at museums or old historical sites; a pair of small glasses with low-level lasers beamed directly onto the retina, creating startlingly real images of how buildings had been, wars fought, works of art created in a computer, floating in virtual space. This thing did the same, though it did it without any interface.

  “Anything?” Onyx asked him.

  “I think it wants access.”

  “Tell it yes.”

  “How?”

  “Dunno. It’s supposed to be user-friendly.”

  “I’m not sure that phrase is much help here.”

  Hans concentrated on the word. Did it brighten slightly? Hard to tell.

  “Access, yes.”

  A brief flash of light filled his vision, like being hit by a strobe. He flinched, but no other sensation followed it. The word “access” disappeared, replaced by “please wait…” and a percentage number, climbing rapidly. Hans couldn’t contain a laugh.

  “What?” Onyx sounded annoyed.

  “A fucking loading bar…”

  The number climbed toward one hundred, reached it, disappeared. No more floating words, no more instructions. You’d think someone would have written a user’s manual. Hans waited, Onyx scowled.

  “It’s done loading, whatever that means. This thing is broken.”

  “I doubt it,” she snapped.

  He turned to look at her, ready to snap back in frustration, but as he looked at the interior wall, he could see into it. Not like an X-ray, more like a schematic overlay. He knew this immediately, just as he knew he could take control of any of those access points, use the items, and destroy them if he wanted. More so, simple concentration showed the paths they followed to the wider network. He could cut those paths, follow them to their source, follow them anywhere. All this knowledge was immediate to him, as well as how he would go about it.

  “Well?” she asked him. He looked at Lori. Nothing.

  “She doesn’t even have an ID tag,” he said, more to himself than her.

  “Hmmm?”

  “Lori, she never had an ID tag installed. I wonder why?”

  “There are rumors that people in charge here only tag one in three of the poorest of the population. It helps them hide the true numbers, as well as letting them treat them how they will. It’s working?”

  “Yes.”

  Hans stood, turned to face the wall. Now that he was facing into the house he could see more access points glowing through the wall. A handful of portables, the central house server, various appliances. One of the portables was being used. His focused attention brought the conversation to his ears. The husband was talking to someone in authority. Hans had to stop him. A thought fried the portables circuits, another followed its connection to the source.

  The sensation was dizzying. A third eye, indistinguishable from his original two, like viewing the world in split screen. He stood in the study, and he followed the connection at stunning speed. A building, brimming with access points. A security camera. He could see the inside of a dispatch office, moved the camera on its base, saw the woman the husband had been talking to. Her computer registered his name. Hanson, Gregory, age fifty-one, hair brown, eyes hazel, four sons, no daughters, married to Marion Hanson for twenty-three years. Report of a disturbance and kidnapping. Hans erased it all, fried the dispatch computer, followed its connection. A police portable, owner one Joseph Lightener, sergeant, age thirty-four, multiple commendations for bravery. Heading toward this location in a police prowler, currently on autopilot. Hans removed the notice, fried the prowler’s systems, and searched for any information revealing his whereabouts. Pieces were moving between dispatch computers and other cars. He deleted them all, sent out an APB for rescue efforts at Brigham’s fortress, and re-routed all traffic.

  The enormity of what he could do was dawning on him. He could access bank computers with this, re-route funds to his personal account, delete all trace. Take down governments, stop wars, kill individuals. Everything connected was his, and everything was connected. Ultimate power.

  He closed his eyes, shut it off. His head hurt.

  — «» —

  There was a pounding in his head. No, that was the door. A voice demanding to be let in. Onyx removed the chair, Greg entered.

  “I’ve called the cops, they are on their way here now.” Seeing Hans bent over, he asked, “What’s wrong with him, drugs?”

  “Something like that.” Onyx looked down her nose at Mr. Hanson, fingering a knife. He backed away, returning to the hall outside, reiterating his threat about the cops.

  Hans’ head cleared. The sphere sat in his hand, the weight of the world in a handy carrying case. Jesus. Get it together, Hans. You can use this to get the girl out of here, get her to safety. Save a life first. Stand, move your legs.

  “Can you carry her for me?” he asked Onyx. She moved quickly, lifted the girl over one shoulder, her knife still in the other one. “We’re leaving.”

  The father was still in the hall, muttering about police.

  “They’re not coming, Gregory, I sent them somewhere else, I’m sorry about your door. I’ll transfer some money to you when we get out of town,” Hans said.

  “I don’t want your filthy money.”

  “It won’t be mine.”

  Marion stood by the door, protesting. “You can’t take the girl, she belongs here.”

  “Thank you for your help, Marion, you may have saved her life. I’m going to try to make it worth it.” Hans pushed her gently from the door and moved out into the street. He removed the sphere from his pocket again, this time with no need to log in, the sphere telling him that they were entwined now, an intimate neural interface. Access points lit up across his vision, cutting back the unnecessary to avoid him being overwhelmed.

  “We need a car.” Onyx was right beside him, but impossibly distant. There w
as a parked car in a garage around the corner; start the car, open the garage, send his position based on satellites overhead. Car moving around the corner. Unlock the doors. Driver’s seat lighting up. Hans preferred to drive it himself. Somehow the division in his focus was easy to handle, a second brain to control a second body. Nearest exit fifteen miles west, map on the heads-up display. Just follow the arrows. Shut down all traffic along their route. Four military jumpcraft moving toward their location. Re-route. Exit clear ahead of them. Hans twisted the throttle, tore toward the exit. Never coming back to this twisted hellhole.

  — «» —

  They were parked in an abandoned gas station. He’d floored it for nearly an hour, moving anything that got in their way, exhilarated by speed and sensation. On a lark, he’d commandeered a passing UAV, a small camera platform for close quarters surveillance. He wasn’t sure what it was doing out here, but he’d watched himself through the window of the car. Eyes on the road, eyes on himself. Thirty seconds left him faintly nauseated. Had to pull over and log off.

  Hans was sitting back in his seat now, eyes closed. Trying to let the world spin down, come back to normal. Onyx was lighting a cigarette.

  “Can I have one of those?”

  “Are you sure you can handle it?”

  He put one in his mouth, holding the lighter. Sweet tobacco. Everything focusing again.

  “I’ve smoked before.”

  “That’s not what I meant.”

  He left her question left hanging for nearly a minute.

  “What happens to someone with implants?”

  “The sphere causes a feedback loop, damaging surrounding tissue with heat, possibly causing destruction and shrapnel.” She rolled down a window, let the smoke drift out. The light outside was a funny color, like tornado weather. All of Salt Lake was covered in dust, the cloud lightening as it spread and dissipated.

  “That’s a hell of a security feature,” he said.

  “It wasn’t intentional, just an unplanned side effect. The sphere you have is a prototype, stolen before it could be tested properly.”

  “Well,” he took another puff, “I guess we can call that a successful run.”