by Matt Doyle
“People were shouting outside,” I continue. “There was an alarm and I got sent to my room. I could hear someone talking on Dad’s radio, but I couldn’t make out what they were saying. The noise stopped and someone told me to stay where I was and keep quiet. I think that was Mum. They switched all the lights off and the alarm stopped too but the red lights in the corridor kept flashing, and every time they flashed there was another loud noise, like a crack. I thought I could hear other stuff too but I hid. I pulled my hood up and closed my eyes and covered my ears and pretended I was asleep.”
I can feel my heart jumping. I know that my lips are still moving but I can’t hear anything coming out. I’m beginning to feel like I’m underwater too, like I’m drowning. Panic. My head is trying to calm down but my body is …
“You heard a scream and a loud bang, then another scream and another bang,” Fahrn finishes for me, her voice and eyes distant as she pulls me back to reality.
I nod. “Then it went quiet. I thought that I’d turned the sound off in my head, until I heard the scratching at the door.” I pause and look to Fahrn. She still looks like she isn’t entirely here right now. Maybe that’s just me imagining it. I still can’t believe she turned up.
“The door was jammed,” she says, looking directly at me. She must have been waiting to see if I wanted to continue before filling in the gaps. “We had to force it open. The scratching would have been where it was scraping on the floor.”
“I thought it was a monster,” I reply, turning away. “It was silly.”
“You were a child. And we were monsters that day.”
I shake my head. “You didn’t look like a monster. When you walked into the room, you held you’re hand out,” I say, mimicking the action, “like you were there to take me away from all the scary noises. I was just so scared. I wanted to ask where Mum and Dad were, or to run out to them but I couldn’t make my legs work properly, so I pushed myself back against the wall instead. Then I heard another voice yell ‘Fahrn’ and you turned and moved across the doorway. There were more bangs, then you were on the floor bleeding and screaming and someone else came in and called you ‘Fahrn’ again and I … I …”
I stop to wipe my eyes again. “When I woke up, I was somewhere else. Everything was so bright, so I closed my eyes until I was asleep again. I can’t remember where I woke up next. I don’t think I was awake much at all after that, not for a while. Then, one day, there were lots of people with cameras and microphones. They were telling me and the others that we must be happy that we were saved and asking if we wanted to say anything to our rescuers or the President.
“I didn’t say anything. Not to them. I just went where the grown-ups took me. Sometimes, I wish I’d have asked them about you then. The ones with the cameras I mean. They could have helped me find you and I could have …” I trail off.
“They wouldn’t have helped you,” Fahrn says sadly. “And even if they had, I wouldn’t have, not back then.” I look to the floor and she continues, her voice suddenly frantic. “No, no, I will help you. Any way I can. It’s just that, back then, I was ... I was angry. Very angry.”
“Angry?” I ask, looking up again.
“Yes, for a lot of reasons, none of which were you. If you’d come to me then though, I would have acted like you were the reason. I’d love to say that I was in a bad place but the truth is I just wasn’t a good person back then. I’m still not,” she says, turning to Maria. “Not like I want to be anyway.”
She smooths her hands across her face with a groan, and pushes her hair behind her ears. “I’m sorry Meera, but I need a quick break. Is that OK?”
I nod. I’ve waited this long, I can wait a little longer.
Fahrn turns to Hong Chan and asks, “Is there somewhere we can talk in private?”
“Um,” he replies looking around, “There’s my bedroom, but why do you want to talk with me?”
“There are things that I want to say,” she replies carefully. “But as Meera’s legal guardian, some of them need to be your call.”
Hong Chan balls his face up. He’s trying to figure out what Fahrn means, I think. “OK,” he says at last. “I’ll get us another drink first. Meera, are you OK with Maria for a bit?” he asks. I nod. “Sorry,” he says turning to Maria. “I’m making assumptions. Can you sit with her, or would you rather we do this another time?”
“You two go ahead,” Maria says with a smile. “We’ll be fine, won’t we Meera?”
She hasn’t spoken much since she arrived with Fahrn, but I can tell that she’s nice from how she’s been supporting her. It’s all been little things like the gentle cuddles or holding her hand, but you can tell that it’s always what Fahrn needs.
“We’ll be fine,” I say. Hong Chan nods and leads Fahrn to his room, closing the door behind them.
LANA DE LA CRUZ - 20:05
I’m actually pretty excited right now, not that I’d admit it to Finn. He’d only make some sort of comment about being careful not to get too wrapped up in the moment to get the job done, or I’ll end up kicking myself later. He’s right to a degree, but he’d be missing the point. If this goes well, I’m finally going to be within touching distance of Robert’s work.
Then I can make it so that Finn isn’t a complete douche all the time.
Actually, that’s a little unfair. He does do exactly what he’s supposed to, and you could argue that without him I wouldn’t be at the point I’m at. Plus, any douchey things he does are as a result of my programming so his occasional bouts of annoying behaviour are my fault, not his. Unless he’s already developed beyond my programming and acts that way because he likes to annoy me.
Now, is that paranoia, wishful thinking, or both?
Click-click.
“Welcome John,” I say with a smile as I turn to watch him being led into the room by Mr Serious himself.
“Hell-ooh” he sings, leaping onto one of the sofas and scooting his legs up into a cross-legged position.
“I’m glad,” I say advancing across the room and offering my hand, which he takes into a gentle handshake, “that you decided to join us …”
“Now that’s not a good start,” he interrupts.
“I’m sorry?” I ask.
John looks over his shoulder to Finn and tuts him like you would a cheeky child. “I don’t like being lied to Finn,” he says, then turns back to me cheerily and says, “He said that you were a Spark Form too. I mean, it’s kinda OK, it’s not like I’ve never lied or anything, but still. So that just leaves Finn, Meera and Carnival, right? Or are there others too?”
“Oh, so I’m … actually, no, how did … no, ya know what,” I bluster, turning from Finn to John and back to Finn again. “Spark Form am I?” I ask, raising my eyes a shooting him a smile that lies somewhere between cheeky and sexy. The sexy isn’t intentional, it’s just my natural look. “Wishful thinking Mr McCourt? Harbouring secret feelings for me are you. Just so you know, all things considered I’m kinda like your Mother, so if you are, that’s kinda gross.”
“No, Miss De La Cruz,” he sighs with a tone close to exasperation. “I merely wanted to see if he would pick up on the fact that you are human and see if I could ascertain how he knew.”
“Yeah,” I say, turning back to John. “How did you … no wait. Finn. Did you figure it out?”
“No.”
Straight to the point tonight I see. That may be useful depending on whether or not John wants to play ball. “OK then, John. Carnival’s obvious, but how did you know that Finn and Meera are Spark Forms?”
“Shouldn’t you introduce yourself first?” he asks with a grin.
“What?”
“It’s polite. Look. Hi, as you know, I’m John Forrester. See? Just like that.”
“But you know who I am.”
“It’s still polite.”
Suddenly, this evening feels like it may be less fun than I thought. “OK then, hello John, my name is …”
“Lana De La Cruz,�
�� he interrupts and starts laughing.
I look to Finn, who continues to watch stoically as he says, “Mr Forrester reliably informs me that he is always like this.”
“Oh joy,” I say, shaking my head and causing John to laugh louder still.
“Sorry, sorry,” he says, calming himself. “You want to know how I knew about Finn and Meera, right. Well, I bumped into Meera before her match and,” he says, leaning forward, smiling darkly and stroking his chin like a classic movie villain, “let’s just say I haff vays of making her tok.” He bursts out laughing again as he leans back into the sofa. “Oh man, that makes it sound like I tortured her, doesn’t it? Nah, it’s nothing like that. Honestly though, I could tell the moment you all touched me, or I touched you, or whatever.”
I tilt my head and haul myself up onto the opposite sofa, trying to imitate his sitting position, but slipping and having to slam an arm out to avoid falling over. “Care to elaborate? And how the Hell can stay upright like that? These things are way too unstable.”
“Practice,” he replies with a grin. “And as to the touch thing …” he pauses, staring off into space for a moment. “Carnival and me, we’re together near enough all the time. When you’re around someone that much, you start to notice the little things. You know, the subtle stuff that others would miss. One of the things I realised is that she doesn’t physically feel like a Human, or any other animal. It’s like … have you ever been to any of the beaches on Earth? The old ones I mean, not the enclosed ones.”
“No,” I reply, “Why?”
He nods sadly. “Most people seem to avoid them these days. The best way I can describe it is that she feels like when you stand in the Sea and let the waves wash over your legs. That slight push, the light tickle of the foam, that’s the feeling. It’s subtle, but it’s there. Meera and Finn both had a similar thing going on, you didn’t.”
So does that mean that he and Carnival … no, I won’t go down that route. I should get this on track. “OK, look, we have a lot of things to cover, so if you don’t mind John, I’m going to get to the point.” He opens his hands to beckon me to continue, so I do. “Do you know what Carnival is, I mean what she really, really is?”
“Oh, there are plenty of ways I could describe her,” he says with a shrug, “I’m not sure she’d like them all though.”
I blink. OK, let’s try something different. “Let me try this. OK, yeah, let’s go back to the start. Finn, you have a better memory than me. Could you summarise Robert’s involvement with all of this?”
Finn nods and begins. “Your Grandfather Robert Forrester, known as Bob to his co-workers, spent most of his life as a postal worker. He retired at age sixty-five, began claiming his pension and settled into a quiet life of pursuing his varied hobbies and interests, most notably,” he pauses for effect, fixing his eyes on John’s before finishing, “hacking.” That was a nice touch actually. He’s attempting a degree of flair, probably in an effort to engage John’s jittery nature. “Six years ago, he was sat in a small coffee house, the location of which is unimportant, enjoying a hazelnut latte, a point that is equally unimportant. What is important is that it was there that he hacked into the palmtop computer of a young man situated at a nearby table, and stole some confidential files.”
“Finn,” he says, “I know this story. The guy worked for Emblem, and when he figured out what had happened, he sent the boys around to collect my Granddad, right? ‘Cept when they got him to the offices, he pointed out some obvious errors in their work and he ended up with a job.”
“That is correct,” Finn replies, the corners of his mouth twitching at the interruption. “His ideas pioneered a new way of working within the bounds of the project, and the vast majority of his research is still used to this day.”
“And now we’re getting to the fun bit, aren’t we?” John replies with a wink.
Finn leans back and starts tapping the arms of his chair with his fingers. “I get the distinct impression that you aren’t taking this overly seriously, Mr Forrester.”
John chuckles and looks over to me, asking, “Is he always like this?”
“Mostly,” I reply. Annoyingly, I can feel the bemused look plastered across my face. John’s breaking us, and he knows it.
“Look, Finn,” he says, shifting target again, “No offence, but I didn’t come here to go through my family history. I mean, what were you gonna say next? Maybe something about how after my Granddad died, his Will left me the right to grab whatever I wanted from his storage facility? That was a cupboard under the stairs by the way, not an extra building or anything. I already know that Emblem delayed the Will being read so that they could clear out anything confidential, the Official Reader told me that much. I’m guessing that you guys are with Emblem too, right?”
Finn nods, his nostrils flaring slightly as he does so.
“Aww, Finn,” I continue, “don’t get upset. I’m not. I’m actually quite glad that you guys missed the backups on his old laptop. Say, how’d that happen anyway? A big business like Emblem, I would have thought would be pretty thorough, ya know?”
“Your Granddad owned a lot of computers,” I say with a shrug. “We just missed one, that’s all. I’m surprised he kept anything on something as old as the machine you took the files from though.”
“Really?” He asks, clearly surprised. “He loved the old school stuff better than anything. He told me once that the older stuff was great for hacking because a lot of the newer machines and security systems were built specifically to combat attacks from similar spec stuff. Older models could sneak in easier. Plus they were harder to break into.”
“Huh.” I cross my arms and tilt my head upwards. I didn’t think Robert serious when he told me about that. “He was right to a degree,” I concede. “I mean, you’d still need a lot of skill to carry out a manual hack and defend, but it’s true that newer systems aren’t built with attacks from or on older systems in mind. That said, some newer ones are designed to make it easier for certain programs to …”
“Lana,” Finn cuts me off coolly.
“Oh, right, sorry.” I almost gave some stuff away then that a lot of powerful people wouldn’t be too happy about. Whoops. And well done Finn.
Speaking of whom, Finn taps his fingers on the chair again a few times, then finally decides to join us on the sofa. When he speaks, his voice is level and certain. “Mr Forrester, the files you stole contained Robert Forrester’s prototype for what is currently known as a Sentient Spark Form, or SSF. In my opinion, the name is both inaccurate and misleading, however, that is fairly irrelevant. There were six prototypes at the time, each of course containing its own strengths and flaws. All six were eventually combined to create a more complete version of the software, which in turn underwent a cycle of continuous improvement until we reached the current versions. Legally speaking, the SSF you have been using for the last three years is the property of Emblem. It is also ineligible for competition play. In order to avoid public disturbance, you will be allowed the concession of continuing to use said SSF until the end of the tournament. At that point, you will be expected to return it to Emblem. You will also be required to sign a contract confirming that you have destroyed all copies of the stolen research and that you will not reveal details of their contents to any other living person.”
“Well, I’ll happily sign the contract,” he replies with a smile, “but as for returning Carnival …” He pauses. I’d think he’s either rattled or thinking on what Finn said if it wasn’t for his behaviour so far. Finn was right to go straight into what we ultimately want, and most people would get caught off guard and cave at how straight forward he was. John won’t though. I can see that already. Finally, John leans back, crosses his arms and sets his face in a confident smile as he states simply, “Ain’t gonna happen.”
“John,” I say, throwing myself back into the fray. “Is there anything we can do to make you reconsider? We’re happy to negotiate.”
“Nope,” h
e says firmly. “And even if there was something I wanted, she’s not mine to give. Carnival isn’t my possession, she’s alive.”
“Alive, John?” Finn replies, shooting him a piteous look. “No John, it’s not. It’s just a thing, programmed to simulate life, nothing more.”
“Now Finn,” he says, drenching his voice in mock horror. “I wouldn’t let Carnival hear you saying that if I were you. She might get offended.”
“Would it John? Or would its programming merely trigger an appropriate response?”
He smiles. “Even if that were the case Finn, is that really all that different to a human having a predisposition to a particular viewpoint or behaviour passed through their DNA?”
“SSF’s are designed to be indistinguishable from human life,” he replies. “As such, the programming follows a similar patterning to the inner workings of …”
“Finn,” he cuts in, “I think you’re missing the point here. I’m not the one who decided that Carnival’s alive. She did that herself. And if she believes it, then I’ve got no reason not to.”
“Oh?” I say in surprise. “So she speaks then? And she told you that she views herself as alive?” This is good sign. Robert may have actually managed it. And if he did, that means Carnival could be the key to me perfecting the research.
“Oh yeah. Well, she doesn’t speak in a human language per se, but we can talk easy enough.”
That’s interesting. Carnival should have been pre-loaded with a database of human languages just like Finn, and to a lesser extent Meera. I’m about to enquire about this when Finn jumps back in the line of fire, stating emphatically, “If it believes it’s something more than it is, and that belief is in itself something other than an intrinsic part of its programming, then that is all the more reason for us to retrieve it. Don’t you see John? Quite aside from the potential dangers, the data that we could extract from it could be instrumental in completing work on the project. We could finish your Grandfather’s research.”