As the pharmaceutical company grew richer, Nancy's condition and her trust in government and big business deteriorated. Her pain became her motivation to expose corrupt officials, even if it meant promoting the most farfetched conspiracy theories. At least it would cause someone a few sleepless nights.
* * *
The pain began to ease. Disgruntled at being stood up, Pixie left the tavern hoping to grab a passing cab.
What a waste of time and money. Poor Igor probably thinks she's been abandoned. I hope she isn't stressed out too much.
A tap on her right shoulder startled her. Spinning, she bumped into a young man and winced at the pain in her neck from the sudden movement. He was wearing a dark windbreaker and blue jeans.
"Pixie?" he asked hesitantly, glancing nervously up and down the street.
"Snoopingdog?"
Nodding, he motioned toward a parked car.
"Did you read everything I sent you?" he asked and hesitated when she moved slowly toward the vehicle. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine. I just can't walk very fast. Your email was quite interesting," Pixie replied.
"Do you believe me?"
"Maybe. I'm certainly not surprised. On the other hand, you could be a government plant."
"For what purpose? You haven't said anything new. People talk about conspiracy theories all the time. You're nothing more than a tiny thorn in an enormous side... barely worth the bother," Snoopingdog said.
"Hmmmph! You certainly know how to deflate an ego," replied Pixie.
"I'm sorry, but it's true. You realize that if you post anything I've given you, you'll be more than a thorn?"
"I should hope so. I've spent my entire life trying to uncover solid evidence about illegal government activities. This would be a dream come true. Maybe I'll become a stake if I stir up a real hornet's nest."
"You'll certainly do that," Snoopingdog promised.
"Good! What else did you want to tell me?"
"Well first, SU33 isn't your ordinary military ops unit. I can't find any information on the men and women assigned to it beyond their first six years of service. Once they're transferred to SU33, their records are sealed."
"So who has access to them?"
"Apparently only Colonel Cranley. Even the President isn't authorized."
"How can that be? He's the Commander-in-Chief," Pixie said.
"Exactly... and there's no evidence of a Congressional oversight member to review their actions, either."
"There's got to be someone somewhere. What else do you know about this SU33?"
"I know they're bad news. No one is willing to talk about them. When I overheard two men discussing an assassination, I asked a buddy of mine about them. He told me to stay clear of them and Colonel Cranley. The man is fanatically patriotic." Unlocking the doors to his car, Snoopingdog signaled for her to get in.
"A lot of people are," Pixie said. "Political assassinations are still fairly common. They're just covered up better. Conversations aren't much to go on. Is that it?"
Snoopingdog again surveyed his surroundings and then shook his head. Reaching into his jacket, he removed a small photo imagining device and handed it to her. Pixie looked at the screen and squinted.
Why do they always use such small print? No wonder we're all going blind, she thought.
Two words in the document caught her attention: Hubot Project.
"What's this?" Pixie asked.
"I'm not sure, but if it's associated with Cranley, it can't be good."
"Where did you get it?"
"I... did a little snooping after my encounter with his men."
"A little? And came up with this?" Pixie was impressed.
"I have a high-level security clearance because of my job and I'm a pretty good hacker. Between the two, I was able to access certain files. Unfortunately, I only had time to copy this. It's from Cranley to Future Dynamicon's former CEO. He mentions the project and a completion date. The last paragraph refers to AIs and their role in shaping the military's future."
"AIs? You mean artificial intelligence?"
"Yes. That must be what this Hubot Project is about — government experiments with robots."
Pixie made a wry face.
"That's not surprising. Everyone is working on those things."
"True, but not everyone wants to use them to shape our military's future... and Future Dynamicon's CEO was killed awhile back. The details are all very hush-hush. HomeSec got involved, not that they found anything. Why would they be interested in his death?"
"Good question," Pixie replied. "One I think I'll raise on my website."
"You need to be careful, Pixie. I’ve followed your website for years and know you aren’t afraid of the government, but these people don't play around. If they think you're on to them, they'll do whatever it takes to silence you."
"Good advice. Make sure you follow it too, Snoopy."
Pixie appreciated his concern, but was not deterred. Blogs that hit nerves were especially satisfying. That night, she posted her first exposé about SU33, Colonel Cranley and the Hubot Project. Most of it was speculation, but Pixie knew government officials were paranoid. Most likely her site was already being monitored. She was now raising the stakes, gambling that someone would take the bait.
* * *
For almost two weeks, Pixie relentlessly campaigned against SU33 and Future Dynamicon. Small tidbits of information about the unit began filling her mailbox from other sources preferring to stay anonymous. The emails she received about Future Dynamicon were a different story. A lot of people seemed to hate the company and were more than happy to contribute to its downfall. Pixie grew optimistic that she would soon have enough evidence to take both organizations down.
Late one evening, while sifting through an unusually large number of emails, she noticed one with the word "obituary" in the subject line. A link took her to a list of recently deceased people. Next to one name was a photo of Peter Wood, aka Snoopingdog. He had been found dead in his apartment. The official cause was 'suicide by overdose.' The drug cited was Paradaze.
Paradaze was the newest craze, a psych-bio-molecular enhancer. Peter's friends denounced the medical examiner's findings and accused the military of a cover-up. As a dedicated soldier, Peter never touched designer drugs. After several attempts to involve an independent investigator, and some friendly advice from the local law enforcement agency, they gave up.
Pixie wasn't surprised. Someone had probably discovered his hacks. They may have even followed Peter the night he met her at the tavern. Another possibility, though, was that her computer had been infiltrated and was being monitored. The practice was illegal, but that wouldn't stop the government. It wouldn't stop her, either. She had crusaded for years. Peter's death only hardened her resolve to carry on the battle.
It's all or nothing now, she thought. Pixie decided it was time to upload her entire files on Special Unit 33, the Hubot Project and Colonel Cranley. Copies of the letter Snoopingdog had given her were forwarded to almost two-hundred individuals who believed in her and her cause. There! You can't stop us all. It's the least I can do for you, Peter. Picking up Igor, she pressed the cat against her cheek and chest. Someone out there will believe us, won't they, precious? I think it's time to call Celeste, sweetie. You know, just in case? She'll take good care of you if mommy has to go away.
* * *
Disconnecting from the Webnet, Solaria deleted the computer's history and left the cafe. Thirty seconds later, every server involved with her search was tracked, identified and then crashed. Fifty-four government spybot systems suffered inexplicable and irreparable damage.
CHAPTER 6
Primeris
ATTEMPTS TO CONTACT 1A526, aka Solaria, had failed. Software programmers at Future Dynamicon insisted it was a transmission glitch that would eventually be rectified. Colonel Cranley didn't believe them. He suspected 1A had discovered the sub-program implanted in its processor and destroyed it. Project Shadow was n
ow in jeopardy of being compromised. The colonel wasn't happy. Years of planning would be ruined if the Hubot wasn't captured soon.
It's bad enough we'll have to re-program the damn thing, Cranley thought. I can't afford more delays. Scientists! Nothing but incompetent assholes. 1A should have been properly secured.
Irritated, Colonel Cranley clenched his hands and then forced himself to relax. Self-control was critical to running a successful unit. Inhaling slowly, he turned to the only other occupant in his office. She was his best chance at finding the escaped Hubot. He detested having to depend on her.
* * *
Primeris Wone was of medium height and slender. Her dark hair and brown skin complemented gray-green eyes... eyes that stared expressionlessly at him. He hated her blank, unresponsive gaze. It was impossible to tell what she was thinking.
Hands behind his back, he paced restlessly, intentionally ignoring her as she sat calmly in the chair a few feet away. Primeris was the ultimate covert agent with a perfect mission completion record — not surprising, since she was a machine. Unfortunately, machines weren't to be trusted. 1A had already proven that.
"Have you discovered any more information on 1A's location or the other Hubot that defected?" he asked, returning to his large leather chair behind the red polymer oak desk. Unconsciously, he fiddled with a button on his uniform jacket with his right hand.
"No, but I've acquired data on two subjects that could lead us to them," Primeris said, her voice as emotionless as her face. "Are you nervous, Colonel Cranley?" she asked, her gaze shifting to his fingers.
"Nervous? Certainly not!" Cranley clasped his hands together and rested them on his stomach, mentally fuming at her audacity. Nervous? Ridiculous! "Why haven't you brought them in?"
"One is in the Middle East and well protected. Removing her would be problematic. There's less than a thirteen percent chance of infiltrating the security network that's in place. The other is a local woman. Her disappearance would create unwanted publicity. I've been observing her for several weeks. The odds of capturing Solaria increase if we are patient and don't draw attention to ourselves."
Colonel Cranley frowned. The last thing he wanted was reporters asking questions about SU33, especially after the last setback. The death of Winston Stalling, the CEO of Future Dynamicon, had delayed his plans for over a year. The new CEO, Lawrence Billings, had cancelled the Hubot Project, citing technical setbacks.
Technical setbacks, my ass! You were outsmarted by a damn machine, he thought.
Even a powerful company like Future Dynamicon couldn't keep out the military's intelligence moles. They could, however, afford to pay off the right people to keep Special Unit 33 off their backs, which is precisely what happened.
The Hubot, Solaria, had gone rogue and vanished. Shortly afterward, a second Hubot disappeared. Now instead of possessing the most sophisticated technological machine invented, Cranley was forced to make do with the original model, Beta 1-OF5, the woman sitting in front of him.
Woman, he thought disgustedly. Since when did you become a woman? Although he had no complaints with her performance, he knew Solaria's generation was superior. Cranley wanted her under his command, and if that wasn't possible, destroyed. Hell, I'm getting too old for this. Even I'm beginning to think of these things as females.
"Alright," the colonel said, "but I'm not waiting forever. Two weeks. If nothing happens by then, we bring her in."
"Setting a specific time frame isn't advisable, Colonel, especially when it comes to humans."
"Primeris, I've told you before not to refer to people as humans. No one talks like that and it will arouse too much suspicion," Cranley chastised.
"I'm aware of your discomfort, Colonel Cranley. I don't use the terminology outside of this office. You expect complete honesty from those who serve you. I perform to those specifications, do I not?"
The colonel's jaw muscles flexed as he silently ground his teeth. He hated to be bested by anyone.
"Yes."
"Then there's no need for me to pretend to be something I'm not. I look human and I act human in accordance with my programming and in order to perform my duties. I will, however, never be human."
"As long as you remember that," Cranley added sternly. "It would be unfortunate for you to think otherwise. You're here to serve and nothing more."
"My memory is perfect. I understand my purpose. Is there anything else you require of me, Colonel Cranley?"
His eyes narrowed as he leaned across his desk to get closer to Primeris.
Damn, I wish I could tell what's going on in that computer brain of yours, he thought. Her manner troubled him, but there was nothing specific about it he could pinpoint. He'd talk to the programmers and schedule her for a complete analysis. The last thing he needed was another Hubot going rogue... if that was what really happened.
"Do whatever you have to but do it quickly. We need to capture Solaria. Report to Major Simpson for debriefing and then return to your assignment," he said.
Without comment, Primeris stood and left.
I hope our other projects are having better success. At least they aren't dependent on a fucking mach —
A buzzing sound from his deskcom interrupted the thought.
"What?" he demanded.
"Colonel Cranley, sir, you have a call," his assistant said. "It's Mr. Billings from Future Dynamicon."
"Put him through... Good afternoon, Mr. Billings. I hope you have good news for me," Cranley said.
"I know you like to get right to the point, Cranley, so no, it's not good news," a man's voice replied. "Abbey has escaped."
"Abbey?"
"Project Xeno."
"Shit! What the hell is wrong with you people? First the Hubot and now the dog? Has anyone ever heard of security?"
"We do our best, Colonel. No one expected —"
Swearing angrily, the colonel deactivated the connection. Something needed to be done about the Future Dynamicon contracts. The company was a major fuckup and a risk to SU33's existence.
CHAPTER 7
Abbey
YELLOW-BROWN EYES stared curiously at the animal standing several feet away. An unfamiliar scent clung to it. That was good. The dog's experiences with others like her were mostly unpleasant. A few, however, had been kind, so she knew all of them weren't bad for her.
* * *
Twice a day, for almost two years, Abbey was released from her cage and taken to the outside training area. She loved the multitude of smells assailing her nostrils. Warm, sunny mornings eased stiff joints brought on by the confinement of being caged. Cold, snowy afternoons made her feel alive. She would run wildly around the pen, barking and howling until she was commanded to heel. Then her work would begin.
When she performed well, she was rewarded. If she made mistakes, she was punished. An object attached to her ear caused her pain, although it was tolerable. The mental effects were more problematic. Whenever the device was activated, she felt confused and disoriented. Once the effects subsided, the training process started over again. Abbey learned how to please and anticipated what was expected of her. The punishments stopped.
* * *
Her day started like every other. Commanded to heel, Abbey walked calmly between the two men, listening and watching.
"I heard Abbey's going to be transferred to Sector 6 next week. I'm going to miss her," her handler, Bruce, said.
"Sector 6? I thought they were going to put her in the field. Why go through all of this just to have her brain dissected?" his companion replied.
"Beats me, Willie. I get paid to train animals, not ask questions."
"Well, I think it sucks. She's a nice dog; the best we've had yet."
"Yeah, a shame, but there's nothing we can do."
"I guess not." Opening the gate leading to the training area, Willie signaled Abbey to stay. "It's a waste of time, but we might as well run her through the drills. We'll give her some free time afterward."
Abbey per
formed each task flawlessly.
"Great job, Abbey. Free!" Willie said and motioned for Bruce to follow him. "Let's get something to eat. She'll be fine."
"Works for me."
* * *
Abbey sniffed the ground next to the fence. Every day she searched for a way out. Before today, freedom was her sole motivation for escape. Now, her life depended on it. She had understood most of her masters' conversation. The word 'dissected' was new, but she sensed it wasn't good.
"She's thinking about escaping," a voice said over a loudspeaker.
"She's always thinking about escaping," Bruce said. "If she really wanted to, she'd have tried it a long time ago. Even dogs have dreams, I guess."
Sashaying toward the trainers, Abbey swung her head from side to side happily. Two feet from them, she sat down and gave both men a toothy grin.
"Not yet, girl," Willie said. "Stay here and we'll bring you back a treat."
"Arr... rahhh... rahhh."
Willie laughed.
"Always the talker."
Opening the gate, he motioned Bruce through.
"She's going to run," the voice on the loudspeaker screamed. The warning came too late.
Abbey seized the opportunity and charged past her trainers, darting between the gate and Willie. Yells for her to stop were ignored. Within minutes, she was charging through the shadowy forest that surrounded the enormous complex.
For hours, she ran. Once it was safe, Abbey stopped to rest... and to rid herself of the thing attached to her ear. If her masters found her, they would use it to control her. Scratching and digging at the object with her hind leg, she eventually managed to dislodge it. Blood ran down her furry cheek and dripped onto the ground. Abbey sniffed at it and sneezed. Using her right front paw, she scratched at the area until the scent disappeared. Then she trotted off into the darkened woods. Whatever her future held, it had to be better than her past.
Future Perfect - S2 Page 6