The Unlicensed Consciousness

by Travis Borne

  When we log in together, I’ll show ’em I’m not so bad, then I know they’ll like me, she thought. But still, the thought of Monday unsettled her a bit.

  Monday, like Mondays do, came soon enough and the lenders arrived to work, except for Amy. Also absent were George and Jessie. This was rare indeed. There hadn’t been sickness in the community for a long time; people just didn’t get colds, the flu—even worse, cancer or other diseases—not anymore. The last lender absences were Fran and Nanny, and that was over a year ago. They’d made a batch of homemade moonshine from hoarded corn using a custom-concocted still. And they had gotten so hungover they missed the entire day. Also, they got a strike. One more would mean the chair and a comfy retirement shucking corn.

  “Jim, you live right above Amy,” Ted asked, “have you seen her?”

  “I haven’t, she’s always out the door way before me,” he replied. “She likes to take the winding nature path through the park, sometimes around it, along the wall near the canal, but still always beats everyone here. Who is she scheduled to work with today?”

  “Jessie. She’s missing too,” replied Ted. “George is also missing. He was scheduled to work with you.”

  A bad thought was a flashbang jolting his grey noodles and his muscles weakened. Ted noticed his graven change of countenance.

  “What is it, Jim?”

  “I’ve got a bad feeling about this, Ted.” Jim said. He’d caught George sending malicious looks her way several times over the past few weeks. Also, he saw the both of them tease her a few times and had stepped in—and since he’d intervened, delivering his own malicious warning, it had stopped. And Amy never mentioned anything; Jim knew how strong she was. He continued to think, and like a hundred metal spiders navigating the vertebrae from ass to neck, he received a cold millisecond chill.

  “Excuse me, Ted,” Devon interrupted, rushing over. “We need to get some lenders in now. We’re about to drop into the yellow.”

  Ted was deep in thought, rubbing his chin. He examined Jim, who appeared terribly unnerved. Jim shook his head slowly. “Call someone in, Devon,” Ted said. “I need you and Ron to handle things today. I’m going to step out for a few.”

  “Yes, sir. But what about Jim?” Devon contested. “He can send it back to green with just about anyone, in about a half hour.”

  “Jim is coming with me,” Ted replied, lacking his usual calm. “Devon, I want you and Ron to take care of it. Most of the low-levels who spent time with Amy can handle that now. And delay all logouts for an extra half hour.”

  “Will do, sir,” Devon replied. He rushed back to his station and pulled up the list. He looked for who had a day off, for who could possibly log in. Abell was off, but Lia was beginning with her alternate. Alex and Trixie would do.

  Because of the newfound power and Rico’s idea, lenders were given extra time off and things had slacked quite a bit. And the schedule was a bit messy with all the shuffling. Now, with two pairs missing, and the currently active lenders hardly producing, things were in a pinch. Nothing serious though—yet.

  “Come on, Jim, let’s go see Rico,” Ted said. He and Jim headed to the main control room located on the other side of the facility.

  Arriving, they pushed the COM button. Rico responded. Along with two others, Chang, next in rank for non-lending operations, and David, a relatively new recruit, they controlled various systems: power management, internal security and town monitoring, external observations and defense, wall health, and lockdown procedures. Much was automated such as wall and outer perimeter security but many systems could operate collectively, allowing for a human assist or advisory.

  “Rico, it’s Jim. I’m here with Ted. We have a problem.”

  Rico slid next to David. A smorgasbord of screens filled the center of the room. David was put in charge of internal monitoring for the facility and town surveillance. He reached down and pressed the button. Ted and Jim appeared on one of the screens. Taken slightly aback by the surprise morning visit, Rico asked, “What is it, Ted?”

  “Amy is missing,” Jim exclaimed.

  “Jessie and George are also missing,” Ted added, looking to the camera atop the control-room door.

  Rico glanced to another screen, making sure it was safe to open the door, then said, “Come in, guys.” The door opened by sliding to the side slowly. They hustled in and the door sealed. The control room was considerably smaller than the broadcast room, and a bit darker inside, but its technology and screens saturated the space. It also contained a smaller version of the HAT (hologram table), used to generate a 3D high-res representation of the town and surrounding quarantine zone. “So, what’s this about?”

  “Rico, I don’t know. I just have a bad feeling,” Jim said. “George and Jessie have been giving Amy unpleasant looks since our meeting atop the wall. I had to step in, almost kicked George’s ass, and since then it stopped. I never mentioned anything because I knew once they had a chance to work with her they would finally be able to understand the need for the changes we’re all going through—and they’d fall in love with Amy just like everyone else. Uh, something else—since I’ve worked with Amy—”

  “What is it, Jim?” Rico asked impatiently. Ted followed curiously.

  “I can feel things,” he said. “Intuition I guess, but stronger, I don’t know. Like I’m connected to her. I—can’t explain it right now. I just—I feel sick. Please, we need to search for her now.”

  There was a pause. Rico understood where Jim was coming from. He remembered long ago, before the cleansing, vaguely, and could identify with the idea; he could sense things he couldn’t quite explain. Gut feelings; they ran deep once upon a time. The depth of humanity, he thought. All looked to Jim. There was a moment of silence. Jim urgently pressed his gaze, and it was enough; he never messed around like this and his face reflected seriousness and earnest desperation. Just as Ted had taken him serious earlier, reacting to the same heartfelt reasoning, Rico did the same. And worry enveloped them all.

  “All right. Jim, you head into town,” Rico instructed with sudden adamance. “Before sounding the alarm get a small party together and do a preliminary search. Hopefully, it’s nothing. Check her apartment, check Bertha’s, her normal route to work, and anywhere else that comes to mind. Then head back to town hall and get back to me. Go now.” Procedurally, David checked the camera to make sure the hall was secure, then activated the door. Jim bolted out and headed into town. Ted stayed. “Ted, if you would, help David scour the town camera footage and see if you can locate her. It’s a lot to look over but with your help we can knock it out quickly. And if she arrives to work anytime soon, we’ll know. Move over David, let him help you. Chang, if you would as well. And I’ll contact town hall.”

  Rico got on the landline and alerted the town board with a heads up. There was no transmitting permitted in town so a hard communications line connected the control room with town hall, lender housing, and the hospital. There were also four emergency boxes throughout town, one of them inside Bertha’s restaurant.

  Like clockwork, Monday morning had begun with the quotidian board meeting in the old courthouse near the center of town. Its ascending front steps made for a good place to organize and instruct a search party. Rico contacted Rob Price, head of the town panel, informing him that Jim might show up, to be ready, and to take him very seriously.

  Jim gathered a few to help but his preliminary search, sprinting relentlessly, turned up nothing. Within a half hour the entire town was alerted and people were gathering at the base of the courthouse steps. Jim approached the stairs to meet with the board members. He passed Bertha who was among the scuttling citizens and she called to him as he ran by.

  “Jim!” Bertha yelled. “What’s goin’ on? Somethin’ about Amy?” Jim gestured to security and they let her follow him up the steps. Frantically, she headed up alongside him. The town panel was gathered and ready to address the citizens of Jewel City.

  “Bertha, we can’t find he
r,” Jim replied. “She didn’t show up to work and she’s not in her apartment. I followed her usual path, nothing. So, we’re getting a larger search started.” Surely Bertha didn’t know about Jessie, or George, or his new gut feelings, and he didn’t want to panic her further. But Bertha quickly became alarmed, more so as the number of citizens grew.

  Most of the town arrived. Security spread information to the front of the crowd and word filtered back. They did their best to organize and control the forming congregation.

  “Anything, Jim?” Mr. Rob Price asked. His tall self had just ducked to exit the main double doors. He was thin and angular, much like a new-world Abe Lincoln, save for a thinner, more straggly beard. He wore a grey and white plaid shirt, dark slacks and a large white tie. “Rico already let us in on everything. I was about to organize the search but he said to wait for you. Most of the town is here and we can do a full sweep in both directions if that’s fine with you. She has to be somewhere within the wall.” Rob was one of the few individuals as informed as Rico. He knew about the lender facility and its importance. His knowledge was mostly from books, but extremely extensive. And his articulate ability to communicate and correlate facts made his position in the town an easy one to attain.

  “Yes, I think that will be best,” Jim replied. “It’s more likely she’s somewhere within the eastern half so we’ll start there. And we should keep someone here in case we hear back. At the JCDC they’re likely finishing up the security scan—hopefully they’ve already found her, but we can’t wait.”

  Rob briefly pulled him to the side, speaking in a hushed tone, “Jim, why such urgency here? They’re only late for work? We’re still in the green over there, right?”

  “I wish I could explain it but there’s no time. Let’s find her, and fast.”

  Bertha was listening in and took to heart his deeply concerned expression. “Oh, God!” she blasted. “We have to find her!” Her voice was a trumpet. It incited the crowd, causing an elevation in the already crescendoing clamor.

  Jim assured Bertha closely, “We will. She is going to be okay. I bet she went for a nature walk like she always does, maybe just lost track of time.” Although this didn’t fit the shit-agitating sensation tugging at his stomach and bowels, he wanted to keep everyone levelheaded and calm.

  “Not on Monday morning!” Bertha exploded. “She’d be the first one to work!” Jim couldn’t find any other words of comfort for her; she wasn’t having them anyway. He waited a few moments until the rest of the town had finished gathering, then Rob made the announcement.

  His alternative name was simple: The Mayor. And everyone hushed, acknowledging him as so. “Please gather around. Closer, everybody. Now, thank you for coming. Young Amy is missing. She didn’t show up for work today. Also missing are George Jones and Jessie Star. Now, we need every citizen’s help. Please form a line along Main Street in both directions, we need to begin a search. Spreading east through this side of town, we’ll let the wall merge us together at the end. Once everyone gets lined up, we’ll begin. Youngsters, and all of you fast runners, head toward the outside, seniors start here in the middle. About ten feet apart people. Okay folks, let’s spread out and get started.”

  Kim Mills was standing next to Rob and noticed the docs. The town had two principal doctors, both wise and talented. Because they had the same name most simply referred to them as Young Doc and Old Doc. Young Doc was in his late thirties and had been taught well by Old Doc—also his grandfather; he was in his seventies. Old Doc had been a general surgeon before the war but like many, lost his job to automation. Both were named John Fisher—Senior, and the third. John Fisher II had died early in the war. They were a rare pair, except for Rico’s brothers and very few others, related by blood.

  “Docs!” Kim yelled, as she saw them walking together at the right. “We need one of you on each side. Please, in case—”

  “Understood,” Young Doc said, and he gestured to his grandfather. “I’ll take left, Gramps. You take right center, closer to Park Ave.”

  “You got it, son,” Old Doc said, in his naturally gravel voice. They both carried a medical bag and joined the readying line of volunteers.

  Enough to divide the community in half, the townspeople organized, hastily lining Main Street, reaching the wall on each side. As instructed, the youngest and most fit sprinted toward the ends. And as a leader, Jim commanded the middle. Bertha stayed near. Ted arrived, shaking his head and flashing a hand signal to Jim. Sadly, he knew the gesture well; the cameras had turned up no evidence. Humbly, Ted joined the line.

  “Everybody spread out!” Bertha roared. “Aimeeee!” Her voice nuked the town, thunderously reverberating from wall to wall. Every, single, person, heard her! Needless for anyone to say, with that capacity, all accepted it: Bertha was nominated to be the search-party spokesperson.

  The formation made a V-shape as the center treaded forward first. The ends soon caught on leaving no spot uninvestigated. They trudged diligently, looking about in every direction and launching many screams. Amy! Nobody had yet to yell George or Jessie. The formation’s center made it through the park first and continued on past the mountainous scrap yard: piles of scrap metal, junk vehicles, concrete pylons and garbage. The left end was still making its way through the thick brush and trees, which made up the north side of the park around and near the pond. Except for the gardens it was the thickest area of vegetation. Even farther north the end of the search wing lagged, following Rim Road, inspecting the grassy edges of the canal. Rim Road was of dirt and rounded the inner edge of the great wall.

  Youngsters on both ends screamed Amy’s name. Many of them knew her from school, many her age or close to it. The south side of the line combed the park’s right edge and the most urban part of town, following Park Avenue east. Its three branches, 1st, 2nd, and 3rd Street contained the majority of general housing so searching was slower. Behind the homes, a cracking, barely still paved version of Rim Road paralleled the wall, dead-ending into the bulge of the lender facility and its secured perimeter.

  Jim, Bertha, and the point-most group of the search party arrived first.

  “Maybe the other side, west in the gardens?” Bertha asked, huffing.

  Kim Mills made her way over. She overheard Bertha and said, “Not likely. They’re sealed off quite well.” Being in charge of the gardens, Kim knew its layout like she knew good sex from bad. It was her territory and she ensured its security reso-mega-lutely. It was tightly sealed off from the general public. “But perhaps, Back Street?” Back Street edged the garden territory, between the back of Jim’s apartment building (lender housing), and the gardens, running parallel to Main, dead-ending into the wall likewise.

  Rob began, “Okay, We’ll head back and—” A scream guillotined his words.

  “It came from the woods!” Jim snapped. “Let’s go!” He bolted. Full sprint!

  “Oh my—” Bertha covered her mouth.

  The yelling maintained: “Help! Over here!” Rob and the others listened carefully.

  “The woods and grassy area by the canal. Rim Road!” Rob exclaimed. “Let’s move. Bertha, call it out and let everyone know.” She caught a huge breath and did exactly that. Her outburst was the dimension of chalkboards and fingernails. And the message reached even the southernmost stragglers of the search line. Jim was already far ahead; Rob, Kim, and Young Doc followed with a sizable gap.

  Spooked buffalo; the search party trampled toward the screams, nonstop. Along Rim Road they made a dust trail as though a vehicle was alive once more: spinning tires, madmen fighting for the wheel. Big-ass Bertha gave it all she had but couldn’t keep up and fell behind. Speed was not her deck of cards. But determination kept galvanizing her massive body and she powered on. Jim passed everyone heading that way, pushing his muscles to the limit and beyond. Prone to cramping, the exertion tightened his body but he clawed through the fabric of space-time. He passed the pond that ended the canal and kept clawing. Fifty feet before the bridge,
he saw the crowd.

  Some were crying, down on their knees. Many stood away from the scene, gasping. And some were puking, covering their mouths in dismay. Jim tore his way through the surrounding crowd—and then he saw her. Face down at the water’s edge in bloody mud two men were gently trying to roll her onto her back. A group of at least twenty stood around her. They made a hole as they saw Jim striding toward.

  “Oh, God no, no, no—no!” Jim cried. He plowed his way through the tall grass and down the bank to her body, dismissing George, who lay on his back with his legs half floating in the murky water, throat torn from his neck. The gaping, fleshy hole looked more capacious than his neck could allow. Now lackluster and turbid, George’s expired eyes mirrored surprise, but mostly, defeat.

  They’d gotten her turned over; had to, her face was partially underwater. A man checked her wrist for a pulse, then yelled, “She’s alive!” The crowd gasped. Cheers were synchronized breaths of hope.

  Jim joined, huddling in. Quickly he checked her breathing. Nothing. Young Doc scrambled in with his med bag, pushing aside the man who had checked her pulse. He pulled out a breathing apparatus and promptly instructed a woman across from him to pump it steadily. Amy’s chest rose and lowered three times then she vomited murky water. Gasps of cheers, and a sixth-sense of relief, which Jim could almost feel in the marrow of his bones, fluttered throughout the crowd.

  She was not conscious however, her regurgitation had been an involuntary spasm reacting to the air and movement of her lungs. But at least, it was something! Her body had some fight left in it. Continuing his frantic examination, Young Doc discovered her pulse was very weak, and fading. And he saw the totality of her condition. “We cannot wait any longer. Tell Old Doc to get the ER ready, stat!” He wanted to wait for a stretcher but they were mere seconds from losing her. “Hold her head, please. Steady, keep it very steady. You, back over here.” He instructed the man he’d pushed aside, then three others. “Under her like this. Jim, ready?” He caught Jim’s eyes, but all eyes were dead serious. “Okay, everyone, one, two, lift!” They carefully ascended the slippery bank to the road, carrying her as steady as possible.