Implanted

by Lauren C Teffeau

  Tingling warmth travels through my blood vessels, then the sensation slowly fades. But the queasy sensation in my stomach lingers.

  “You may feel… uncomfortable over the next few days as your body gets used to the booster’s properties, but that’s to be expected,” Tahir says.

  Dr Finola picks up her touchscreen and looks at Tahir. “I’ll have her back to you in an hour, maybe sooner.”

  “Very good.” With a wave, he leaves the room, pulling the door shut behind him.

  Dr Finola turns back to me with a smile. “All right, M. To start, I’d like to get a sense of your overall physical condition so we can tailor a diet and exercise plan for you…”

  I’ve about had it with “orientation” by the time Tahir leads me to the second floor after my examination. Décor from another decade is everywhere in warm, neutral tones. Inoffensive to a fault. I hate it. They must’ve designed this place to deliberately distract from the fact HQ’s just a dressed-up isolation ward.

  When Tahir codes open the door to a small apartment, I like my quarters even less. He waves me in, and the sunlight simulators that stud the ceiling turn on, slowly growing in intensity. Each wall has a large vid screen mounted to it to make up for the fact there are no windows. The lack of personality just highlights what I’ve lost. Nothing from my old life is here except for the clothes on my back.

  Tahir gestures to the wallscreens. “You can customize them to display whatever you want.” Right now, the Aventine logo’s emblazoned on each one. Steel gray letters against a burgundy background. The first thing to go.

  I suddenly wish Brita were here to make everything light and bright and less lonely. Freshman year, she helped turn my teeny-tiny dorm room into a breathtaking escape from the Terrestrial District. She knew all the stores to find the latest trends. I could barely afford the updates, but for the first time I felt like I belonged in the Canopy. How could I put a price on that? And the friendship that followed? A friendship I’ve so easily destroyed. But my new place could certainly use her sprucing-up.

  Blinking back tears, I half-heartedly follow Tahir through a tour of the space. A small sitting area, kitchenette, separate bedroom, and bath. Tahir stops in front of the bedroom closet and opens it for me with a flourish. A rack of austere clothes hangs in monochromatic hues ranging from midnight black to beige, navy to gray. Underthings all in white.

  “Color not in the budget?”

  Tahir shrugs. “Your job from now on is to blend in. Your wardrobe’s an essential part of that.”

  If that means my face will stay my own, I’ll take it. “Hasn’t someone figured out by now that the people in boring business wear are couriers?”

  “You’d be surprised. Most people are appallingly unaware of their surroundings, particularly if their implants tell them there’s nothing irregular going on.” The Law of Digital Recency in action. “Besides, if there’s a need to deviate from the basics, Wardrobe on the third floor can help. But you won’t be assigned those jobs for a while.”

  He plucks a shirt at random. “The technical properties of your clothes provide protection to your core and can even shield your temperature from heat scans if necessary.” He holds up the sleeve. “An added feature: when synched to your implant, your clothes will discharge an electric shock to anyone trying to attack you. You’ll be trained on how to customize the filters so you don’t zap everyone you happen to brush by in rush hour.”

  I examine the fabric carefully. Looks normal enough. I guess that’s the point. “And how often do couriers get attacked?”

  “Hopefully never.” He drops the sleeve and shuts the closet door with a snap. “In security, you plan for all outcomes, not just the most likely ones.”

  “Do all the other couriers stay here too?”

  “Over a dozen couriers live and work out of HQ. Many are already out on assignment, which is why things are rather quiet around here.”

  I follow him back to the sitting room, eager to investigate the fridge. Breakfast was a lifetime ago. Literally.

  “You have the rest of today to settle in.” With an eyecast command, he transfers the door security controls to me so I can pair it with my implant’s signal. “The next few days’ll be rather intense, but I look forward to working with you, M.”

  I’m not sure how to respond. Even though we lived in the Terrestrial District, ignored by the rest of the city, my parents drilled good manners into me. But I’m no longer a Driscoll. And while that may not be Tahir’s fault, he’s easiest to blame.

  I take a half step toward the door to see him out. “We’ll see how it goes.”

  He makes no move to exit. Stripping off his right glove, he holds up his hand, palm out. I freeze. He tries on a smile. “From here on out, we’re a team, M. This’ll help me help you.”

  Calibration’s not something to enter into lightly, even for platonic contacts. Tahir probably knows that better than I do, and yet he still stands before me, offering his hand.

  “No way.”

  “You’re allowed to refuse, of course. But couriers who don’t calibrate with their handlers earn extra scrutiny from Harding. He’s not a bad man, but as you might be able to tell, he does live up to his namesake.”

  A hardass in both name and deed. “I don’t suppose he improves upon closer acquaintance?”

  Tahir merely shrugs.

  “You’re really selling it.”

  “I’m only being honest, Emery.”

  “Not M?”

  He grimaces. “I won’t force you, but this might help with all you’re feeling right now.”

  That makes me laugh. “You have no idea.” For so long, I assumed the next person I’d calibrate with would be Rik. Not some spook with an agency I’ve never heard of until today.

  Tahir inclines his head. “Maybe not. But at least you’ll know I’m committed to your success with Aventine.”

  “If I do this, I’ll keep you on the most restrictive setting.”

  “Naturally. I’ll be doing the same thing on my end. Trust still has to be earned. From both of us.”

  If I’m going to succeed here, I’ll need Tahir’s guidance. And there’s only one way to find out if he sincerely wants to help me. I hate that I’m already starting to think like Aventine.

  I undo the small pearl button at the top of my right glove and ease it off. My hand feels hot and cold at the same time, as though I can’t decide if I’m in danger or not. That’s a lie. I haven’t been safe since Aventine entered my life. But I don’t have any other choice in this – in anything – do I?

  With a deep breath and deeper misgivings, I fit my palm against his and wait for our implants to do the rest.

  Chapter Six

  The next morning, Tahir’s awareness presses against my mind, insistent as a buzzing fly. Groaning, I gain my feet and give him the mental equivalent of the middle finger – a heavy dose of static – before settling in for a long shower.

  I slept well, though I’m pretty sure that’s courtesy of my exhaustion after all the upheaval from the last two days. Formalizing my connection with Tahir helped too, not that I’ll tell him that. I could feel his earnestness as soon as our data receptors calibrated – a whirling, undirected sort of goodwill – but the ease I had with Brita or Rik is missing. Something I never noticed until it was snatched away. Tahir and I won’t be best friends, but maybe a functional working relationship will be possible.

  So long as he doesn’t take it upon himself to be my personal alarm clock every morning.

  I dry off and dig through the closet. Can’t help the color choices, so I settle on mixing and matching a navy shirt with beige trousers. The new clothes are unbelievably comfortable, but they still feel like a uniform.

  By the time I’m dressed, Tahir’s deigned to approach my quarters in person, pressing the doorbell with fervor. At least he hasn’t tried to override the new security settings I implemented after he left yesterday.

  I make him wait a few minutes longer as I brush
my unruly hair and braid it away from my face. Finally, I open the door.

  “How are you doing?” He sweeps into my apartment, doing his best to hide his annoyance at having to wait behind a smile. Gotta give him credit for that.

  “I’d be doing better if you’d let me sleep in. It’s not even eight o’clock.”

  “We have a lot to cover today.”

  I sigh. “So long as there’s time for breakfast.”

  He chuckles. “Fair enough.” He holds out a packet of croissants from J’amie, an Upper Canopy delicatessen. My scalp pricks at his sudden focus on me. “You approve?” Tahir asks.

  I blink up at him. “These are my favorite. How did you know?”

  “Your profile suggested this might help you… adjust.” He sets the packet on the counter and takes a seat.

  Once a month or so, my parents would visit me in the Canopy. I’d take them to J’amie, and we’d sit at one of the bistro tables overlooking a slightly overgrown English garden. With flowering ornamentals scenting the air, we devoured the decadent pastries and sipped luxuriant cups of espresso. That Aventine was watching in those unguarded moments…

  My chest squeezes. But this is actually the first time Tahir’s seemed human. Better not waste it. I join him at the counter on the opposite stool, snatch up a croissant, and take a bite, nearly moaning as buttery flakes dissolve in my mouth.

  Tahir wolfs down his own pastry. “Today,” he says between bites, “we’ll be reviewing best practices for courier missions. Simulating skills, situations, and so forth.”

  I savor the last few bites of my croissant and lick the remains off my fingers. When I’m finally done, he stands, brushing crumbs off his hands. “All set?” He sweeps back into the hallway.

  A twenty-something man of mixed East Asian descent, with dark hair and chiseled cheekbones, is just exiting his apartment. He’s wearing gray slacks and a white dress shirt with the top two buttons undone. A small tattoo lurks at the bottom of his throat. Maybe there’s still room for personal style.

  But then the man sees me and Tahir, and deftly does up the last two buttons. Guess not.

  He nods to Tahir. “Ahmed. This our new recruit?”

  Tahir smiles. “M-37, please meet D-19. He’s been with us for five years now.”

  D-19 looks me over thoroughly, then turns back to Tahir. “Did I look that young when I first started?”

  A surprised chuckle escapes Tahir. “No comment.”

  “Hmm.” D-19 gives me a wink. “Cheer up. It gets better. Promise.” He saunters off in the opposite direction. I’m not quite sure what to make of him, but I suppose it should be encouraging that it doesn’t seem like he hates it here.

  “This way, M.” I match my stride to Tahir’s as we go down to the main floor.

  For the next few hours, he has me read through some material covering courier basics. There are even a couple of vids illustrating the different concepts. Then it’s thankfully time for a more intensive demonstration. We enter a white training room, maybe half the size of a basketball court, with a small console embedded into the wall next to the door.

  “Couriers travel all of New Worth, and we pride ourselves on identifying the most effective routes through the city.” Tahir inputs a new program, and a projector transforms the room into a block somewhere in the Understory. With another set of commands inputted into the console, the scene is populated with holograms of people.

  Satisfied with the parameters, he faces me. “Right now, I want to see you walk. Your goal is to get to the other end of the room without disrupting the projections. Cameras are trained on your movements to model the holos’ adaptive behavior.” He turns back to the screen. “Ready?”

  As I’ll ever be. The program chimes, and the room animates, wrenching away my certainty in perspective. My stomach sloshes at the projections hurtling toward me as though they’re hitching a ride on a conveyor belt. Before I can react, one of the holograms barrels into me. As the lights warp and wrap around my body, my implant buzzes with feedback.

  “You’ll have to do better than that, M,” Tahir calls out.

  “Getting there.” I step through the narrow gap between a young man and a simulated planter against the railing.

  “What are the best ways to navigate crowds?” Tahir asks.

  A headache flares, and my mind blanks. “I don’t know. I guess stay on the edges if at all possible.”

  “Yes. Usually people maintain more space than is strictly necessary between themselves and walls, railings, and other obstacles, leaving room enough to bypass them in a hurry.”

  “If it’s really bad, I try to find someone bigger than me who’s making progress against the crowd.” Tall people can usually see over the others and find gaps to move along more quickly. Unlike me, all five feet and barely three inches.

  Either way, my calf muscles will get a workout speedwalking through New Worth.

  “Good. Another thing to think about is the act of walking itself,” Tahir calls out over the projections. “The shoes you’ve been provided with are non-squeak on most surfaces. But if you find yourself in an area where sound carries, you should walk toe-first, not heel-first, to minimize noise.”

  I hop back and dodge left to avoid a woman with a stroller.

  “Every new location you walk into,” Tahir continues, “ask yourself how do I avoid attention in this space? What’s my exit strategy? And–”

  An old man steps right into me, and the simulation ends with feedback rattling my teeth. I made it three-quarters of the way across the room, on a setting I’m pretty sure is harder than what I’ve actually experienced walking around the Understory. But somehow I doubt that excuse will cut it with Aventine. The perfectionist in me wants to start over, determined to reach the other side now that I know what to expect. Whenever an arcade simulation kicked my ass, I played it over and over until I mastered it. I never expected the New Worth crowds to be just as challenging.

  When I turn back to Tahir, a slight frown mars his face. “And where’s the nearest location for emergency scrubbing. That one’s just as important as the other two, maybe even more so.”

  I rub my face, surprised by the sweat on my brow. “OK, OK, I got it. Avoiding attention, exit strategy, scrubbing.”

  “Now, avoiding attention doesn’t mean you have to avoid being seen. Remember the Law of Digital Recency. Most people are too invested in their implants to pay attention to their surroundings overly much. They see what they expect to see. Your job is to avoid extra scrutiny. Walking quickly down the concourse avoiding other people won’t necessarily inspire questions from passersby, but walking quickly through the biopark when you’re supposed to be taking in the scenery might.”

  “Code switching,” I say. That’s something you pick up early in the lower levels to navigate the intersection of so many different kinds of people. What’s normal in one neighborhood can get you gutted in another.

  Tahir gives me a genuine smile. “Yes, exactly. Matching your behavior to the setting. Also, keep in mind that sometimes the most prudent path is around, through, up, or down. Rarely a straight line. Don’t forget to think in three dimensions as you so aptly demonstrated the first time we met. I won’t say it’s something you’ll need in every job, or even one out of five, but it will come in handy.”

  I cross my arms. “I think Aventine likes to unnecessarily complicate things.”

  “When you’re approved for active duty and have to deal with corporate espionage firsthand, believe me, you’ll come to appreciate it. Now…”

  My stomach heaves in spite of the contentment in my progress radiating from Tahir. We still have the whole afternoon to go, but I don’t think I’ll make it. “Can we take a break? I’m not feeling so good.”

  “We’ll cut things short for today.” I almost don’t believe my ears. Tahir, my taskmaster, going easy on me?

  He focuses on my face and grunts after a second. “Looks like you’re running a low-grade temperature. Probably just a m
ild reaction to the booster you received, but I’ll have some medicine sent up.”

  As I make my way to my quarters, the stairs prove to be more of a gauntlet than the simulated concourse. Finally, my door whooshes open. I don’t bother with the prepackaged, nutritionally calibrated meal waiting for me in the fridge and collapse on my bed, welcoming darkness.

  I feel even worse the next morning. I’m not sure how that’s possible since, at some point last night, I found the pills Tahir slipped under my door and downed them. My limbs feel like lead weights, heavy and awkward. Still have a headache too. I can’t seem to beat it even with my implant tweaking my neurotransmitter levels.

  Could be withdrawal. I’m so used to having my friends and family a blink away, the absence of their connections and the relative silence in my head is jarring. No communication, no emotional feedback, no status reports.

  They are as dead to me as I am to them.

  A brief obituary hit the feeds late yesterday, reducing my life down to a few impersonal sentences. Seeing my parents named as survivors sent a fresh wave of guilt crashing down. But I have to believe that I’m doing this for them. To pay them back for all their sacrifices to give me the best start possible.

  Tahir’s chipper voice is an ice pick against my skull as he meets me downstairs. I follow him as he codes into one of the rec suites. Just like a rental at one of the arcades across the city, this one suspends me in a harness, leaving my legs and arms free to interact with my environment. He gestures for me to gear up. My implant pairs with the rec suite interface as I settle into the harness.

  ||| Please select which module(s) you would like to experience. |||

  Tahir stands in front of a small console by the door, his fingers skating over the screen. “Today’s simulation integrates all the techniques we’ve introduced so far. That’s all I can say about it since I don’t want to color your reactions and responses.”

  “Sounds good.” My headache wraps tighter around my head. Hopefully the simulation’ll distract me from the pain.