The Unlicensed Consciousness

by Travis Borne

  “Ted!” The voice came over the speaker as he pushed the button. “Good news, guys. There’s a ship coming and it’s taking out everything in its wake. We determined it is coming to help and it’ll be here in about ten minutes.”

  Anticipating, Ted caught Bertha before a cheerful outburst went from lungs to train horn, and pointed to the sleeping lenders. They all hugged and cheered, quietly. Old Doc stood somber and silent next to Amy. Ted noticed and waved him over to the BROCC. The exciting news should lift his spirits. But he didn’t come, so Ted went to him.

  Ted told him the great news but Old Doc had some of his own. Whispering quietly, he replied, “That’s great, Ted.” His words were melancholy with far less than the predicted amount of excitement.

  “Is everything okay, Doc?” Ted whispered in reply. Old Doc looked down to Amy. “Is she all right?”

  Old Doc didn’t know much about what she did here, but he knew enough not to wake her, so he went around her bed and put an arm around Ted.

  “We can’t wake her, correct?” Doc whispered quietly, walking away from her with Ted.

  “That is correct. It would be bad for the system if she awoke unexpectedly,” Ted explained.

  Old Doc gestured with his head, pointing to the break room. They walked over. It was a mess but a few stools remained. He and Ted took a seat at the counter.

  “Ted, we managed to get the old scanner functioning. It didn’t have any film but with the help of Rick Crisp…well, as you know we’re used to doing a lot with very little. Crisp really is an adept fix-it man. I wanted to get it working after Amy was brought in—because of her dire condition. And we did. Crisp really came through for us and we managed to get a few scans before it crapped out for good. Anyway, Ted, I wanted to let you know that we found something in her head, and it doesn’t look good.” Ted looked down, as if the news couldn’t be worse. “We know she had not been modified during the cleansing, and that leaves her highly susceptible to…”

  “I know,” Ted said, after Doc’s reluctance to say the word. “How clear are the pictures, can you identify exactly—” Ted felt a lump in his throat. He found it difficult to speak. And he thought what he couldn’t force his mouth to say: Cancer. He correlated the thought with their recent endeavors. The place they called home, Earth, what it had been through, increased solar radiation, aerial contaminants, what the war had done to pollute the…everything. And he realized, he should have known, what that would mean to any normal person, an unmodified person. As though he had become glass, a bead of sweat easily slipped its way down his face. The radiation level was still rather high, even after decades. And he had been overseeing the reverts—the one responsible for the decision; his mind started to panic. Did he, in the name of science and his interminable calculations, blatantly overlook the fact, the fact that now, all lenders will become susceptible to cancer?

  “I can’t confirm that it is cancer, Ted. The equipment we have is—well, it’s shit, Ted. All I can say—there’s something there. The photos are poor, too fuzzy to confirm anything. And if it is—there’s nothing we can do about it. Not here, not in our technologically deprived town. And especially not after what’s likely happened out there.” Doc consoled Ted as best he could.

  And surely it looked like he needed consoling. Ted’s mind had gone off on a tangent, and his normally dark-black skin looked clammy and grey. Old Doc had always been a doctor, but it never got easier revealing bad news—in fact, with the closeness of the community, where everyone knew just about everyone, where they were one large family—it was downright painful.

  But Ted, the scientist, was taking it unusually hard, Doc thought.

  In truth, Ted was not thinking only of Amy, but every person who had been reverted, almost every lender. He kept the conversation between them for now. In the midst of the looming crisis nobody needed any more bad news. But they did have a few things going for them. Patched in from the control room, Ron continually updated the status on several of the main upper screens. Large text and graphs displayed the good news: broadcast-feed status remained in high green and the control room marked all operational forces online, the flood of incoming drones had finally stopped, and perimeter-ship #11 was on the verge of completing its repairs, and, #5 had successfully reinserted itself into the high velocity rotational wave, effectively sealing the distant outer perimeter, ending the breach.

  However, the eventuality of their fate was a teeter-totter. Each good thing they had to be thankful for was outweighed by staggering realities. Tipping the odds in favor of Jewel City would likely require more than a lone savior. Outside, the town and the great wall itself continued to be devoured by innumerable drones, and it was only a matter of time before the machines annihilated the facility’s final barrier doors—or drilled through or dissolved, or even burrowed under the protective walls.

  Thus far the lenders lay asleep, yet to be disturbed by the chaos ensuing outside. Logged in, they had their own work to tend to—in the world of dreams.

  And for the citizens inside the safe room, the light flickered as they waited apprehensively. The people of the town were silent, hiding tears, listening, shrieking with each occasional thunderous thump. Some were hopeful because the door did seem impenetrable, but how long could anything last against an incessant barrage like that. Packed into the safe room, all were helpless and had no choice but to stand it out while crammed in like an unsolved 250-piece puzzle in a box too small for it. Some held each other. Strong men took turns putting lightweight teens or women on their shoulders to make an empty space. A small clearing provided some comfort and, cooperatively the entire bunch rotated, taking turns in its spatial relief.

  82. Believe

  Jim lazily puffed his smoke. She’d found a pack in the pocket of a drooling, passed-out DC. Amy knew now that she could alter the dream world, anyway she wanted. She believed cigarettes would be in the front pocket of the snoring policeman, and they were. She wanted to push it now, and hopefully push the system into the mysterious purple status she was so curious about. Although they had done something spectacular, causing hundreds, if not thousands of DCs to cease instantly, likely providing a huge boost to the system, she couldn’t shake the feeling. Nothing had changed. And moreover, something special awaited them. She sensed that the system actually wanted her to go all out, and break down walls.

  “Whenever you're ready, Jim,” Amy said.

  He took the last puff, then watched the cigarette fly after he flicked it away. He thought, what am I doing? It’s not really there. I’m not actually smoking a cigarette.

  Amy focused on him. She saw things so very differently now, compared to when she’d first arrived to the program. She’d matured, blossomed. She knew what Jim was thinking, and that he was coming around, beginning to see the larger picture. She said, “You’ve been doing it so long, but without drive for more. When you're truly alive, you have desire, and passion. You’re ambitious, and most of all, curious about everything. You’ve changed, Jim, for the better. You are waking up.”

  “Amy,” Jim said. He smiled at her from the seated position on a fat man’s enormous belly. “How did you become so smart all the sudden?”

  “I’m not smarter than you, or anyone here. Just lucky, perhaps. I told you I had some very special dreams recently. I remembered my dad, and very clearly, even though I was very young when we were separated. I saw as he hid me from the cleansing. Now, I fully understand the contrast. Arriving here I watched as everyone trudged around through life. As I grew up, I always wondered what was wrong with me, why no one cared to see my drawings. Everyone was happy doing nothing new, content for so little of what really matters. Nobody cared to learn and explore. Curiosity was gone and I had an overflowing supply of it.”

  Jim fully grasped her words. And he had his own memories. Before: people obsessed with handheld gadgets, technology—going along for the ride; no longer did they have to create it, or anything. Yes, he knew. “You saved us,” he said, “but we m
ight not have a chance to use the gift you gave us. The machines outside—I saw them first hand, how many there are—we can only hope.”

  “I think we can do more, Jim. I’ve been thinking, a lot, about the purple-status bar in the broadcast room. I think the purple status is…a beacon—and we can activate it.”

  “A beacon?” Jim said. “Why? And—”

  “We lost something,” she interrupted, “but we’re getting it back, together. I think if there’s anyone left out there, and if we are worthy of saving, they will hear our call. But we must do it together. All of us as one.”

  “Well, there’s nothing to lose,” Jim said.

  “And everything to gain, Jim.”

  He nodded. He had the utmost respect for her. She had been through so much and continued to care for everyone she met. And he hoped she would, could, infect the rest of humanity with her virtue. Jim knew he was no longer the teacher, and in that moment—realized he never was.

  “Let’s do it then. What’s the plan?” Jim asked. Amy looked around then back at him.

  “We have to do it together. Come, join me.” Jim got up and stepped wobbly over a few snoring volleyball players. Amy held out her hand and he took it. Together they stepped over the bodies and walked away from the tightly packed crowd, holding hands. “Now, we need help, and lots of it. We need to break down these walls and travel through to the other dream maps.”

  “We can’t do that,” Jim replied, “the dream stability software won’t allow it, and we’ve never been able to change the programming.”

  “Jim, first thing. Never, ever, say can’t again. Second, your mind is more powerful than any software could ever be. You must believe it.” Amy grabbed him by the shoulders and looked deep into his turquoise and now more natural-looking eyes. She leaned forward and kissed him then said slowly, “I love you, Jim.” It wasn’t a lie but she knew he needed to be touched by deep and powerful emotions, it would give him the strength and will to believe.

  Jim had always liked Amy and noticed how his perspective of them as a couple had changed. He never let himself go to that level before, much because of his age and he didn’t want to hurt her, but she did momentarily take the legs out from under him. Perspective is everything, and he was amazed at how much he’d changed over the past months.

  He floated off the ground a few inches! Noticing, but keeping the good emotions inside like a flame in his heart, he laughed. Amy noticed and fell back herself. Before landing on a sleeping couple, she hovered above the ground as if sitting back in an invisible floating recliner. Together they laughed and enjoyed the newfound freedom they had discovered. Amid the laughter, Jim got an idea. The image of a man he had recently met appeared in his mind. He knew who could help.

  Through a cool ocean breeze, they floated over the rest of the people to the chairs where Amy experienced her very first login. The people were beginning to wake and besides, they had gotten sick of the snoring sounds and fart smells—although, the fat man’s belly was a comfortable seat.

  “I know who can help us,” Jim said.

  “Who?”

  “His name is Felix. He’s Rico’s father and he lives here, in the system. It’s a special map called Old Town.”

  “Interesting. We have to go,” she replied excitedly. “And you will be the one to get us there.”

  “Okay, but how?”

  “Come over here,” Amy said, walking back to the padded beach chairs where it all started. “Lie down and relax.” Both got comfortable and turned to face each other. Through the slatted shade of the palms, sunlight irradiated specks of beach sand on their faces. And she continued her instructions. Even though she didn’t know if it would work, she had to believe it would. She’d accomplished countless wonders during her natural dreams and knew what to do. She put the idea in her head and didn’t look back. “Now, describe the world so I can assist. Tell me every detail you remember when you first arrived to that map, and believe we are already there while you describe it. Remember, for this to work you must truly believe. Don’t fear as things begin to change—it might get a little weird, just relax and keep a clear mind. Let it flow. Stay focused on the new world as if you are already there.”

  Jim trusted her, especially after what they’d pulled off earlier. It was time to embrace his transformation. His creative IQ spiked, off the charts, his imagination was more powerful than ever, and he sensed within himself a feeling of readiness. He knew he could do it and let the idea ferment in his mind. He did truly believe in himself. Ready. And he closed his eyes and took in a deep breath…

  “It’s dry out, almost hot. We’re sitting in old wooden rocking chairs on the deck of the saloon. They make creaking sounds as we rock back and forth. A thirty-gallon barrel is between us, on it a couple of cold green beers are sweating. There are only a few people inside behind us—I can hear them talking at the bar. It’s shady, the sun is behind us but shining its bright rays on the stores across the street. The warm breeze is gentle—it feels, ah, nice. A gust just swept a tumbleweed to your left and it’s blowing down the pale tan street toward the mercado. Children are running behind it, chasing each other. Fine dust plumes stir with each pat of their bare feet. A dirt devil spins in the distance, far away from us. It’s nice here, peaceful—I like the vast openness of the desert.”

  Surprising himself, Jim continued describing the world, even after things began to feel…weird. The beach scene became unstable and rippled slightly. More with each word, the world around them warped, bigger wavelike ripples. He sensed the flutter. The noise from the waves and the waking tourists sounded hollow, toneless, flat. A moment, then everyone vanished: the waves, birds, wind, all gone. Silence. But the hollow empty feeling continued, eerily—the silence itself continued its pressure on his eardrums. The beach scene disintegrated into nothing part by part. A touch. I felt something. A bit of alarm. A hint of panic. Jim felt himself being pushed. A part of his thoughts asked out loud, is someone there? It was spooky but he remembered what Amy told him—don’t fear. So, he caught himself. He continued to focus on the world at which he wanted to arrive, still talking, but not at the same time. I’m there, I’m there. He tried to imagine himself sitting there. The thought of a ghost; it entered his mind. Unwelcome. The haunting feeling came over him and he couldn't help it, it was frightening. He felt himself being pushed. The entity rolled him onto his side but he kept his eyes closed, more tightly so. The toneless silence was loud to him, impossibly, ironically. He wasn’t anywhere but felt a presence in the void. The ghost. It was right next to him, and he did have fear. It pushed on him again and he began to roll, then spin. Out of control, a tunnel, there was no catching these emotions—it was too late now! He was downright terrified. Spinning through the narrowing tunnel, faster, and faster. Some light flickered by, adding to the sensation of speed. Petrified, frozen, but his belief never faltered: he knew exactly where he was going—but the journey scared the shit out of him. Then…

  He arrived—stopped—finally. There’s light. I’m sitting! A world emerged, creating itself before his eyes. Sounds came quickly. Normalcy brought comfort. Stabilization reinforced it. Noise, people, a ground, a sky, and the sensation of pressure on his skin; once again it was all there. Jim let out a hard sigh. He had arrived: Old Town.

  Amy wasn’t there yet. Two beers were beside him on the wooden barrel he’d envisioned. Did I make the beer appear also? Jim thought. There’s so much to learn about this world. Don’t mind if I do, after that. Infinite possibilities inflamed his curiosity and dizzied him at the same time. He reached for one of the beers and noticed quickly as his fingers touched the bottle, it was ice cold. Good. Then Amy appeared next to him. She didn’t fade in like a normal login. The opposite, she appeared suddenly and sharply. She shook it off and as always, it didn’t take her long to start talking.

  “Wow. That was incredible. What a ride,” she said.

  Apparently, she enjoyed it. He didn’t, not at all. In fact, he dreaded ever doing it
again, but he didn’t tell her. He just nodded and guzzled the other half of his skunky beer. Amy joined him in a drink, looking around. Over the tip of his beer he noticed Felix’s old pickup, Esperanza, parked by the mercado.

  “Sir. We lost all map stability on Jim and Amy,” Devon exclaimed, still managing both his and Ron’s stations. “They're gone—completely gone.” Ted hustled over. He noticed as well; their slice of the HAT went dim and pulsed with a fluorescent-purple fog. “That’s odd. For a moment their mental stability fluctuated wildly but now it’s back at 100%. Dream-state stability—zero, offline. It just doesn’t make any sense,” Devon continued. Ted, leaning in, was also at a loss. The stats were conflicting and the system should have logged them out, but it didn’t. Just the opposite, it continued to operate regardless of the conflicting data. Together they looked back toward the beds. Amy and Jim lay peacefully, logged in among the rest of the lenders.

  Ted looked around, thinking, then said, “She’s up to something. The both of them are. Keep an eye on it, Devon, and let me know if anything changes. I think we should expect something—something special soon.”

  The status band in the center of the room pulsed. The intense green bathed the lenders in its animated glow. Still under the purple status band, but it throbbed, as though it had a mind of its own—wanting something.

  The pounding at the door intensified, even through the stockpiled barrier, it was noticeably louder. It carried a terrifying rhythm; they all noticed the change. Grinding, powerful now like tectonic plates, they could feel it through their shoes. Young Doc and Bertha pondered, conversing amongst themselves near the door. They decided to further reinforce it, but to also be prepared just in case. They went back to the supply room looking for anything else they could use, not only for the door, but for a weapon.

  83. Tacos and Tequila

  It didn’t take long to find Felix at the mercado. He sat at one of the larger taco stands under a patchy cloth canopy. Three others were in his company: a pretty middle-aged Spanish Señorita wearing a long black dress with a white top, a black man, and a gringo. Felix caught a glimpse of Amy through the crowd; like an eagle he spotted her, as if somehow, he knew. Jim tugged her and they headed over.