by Bob Blink
The door to the library was open, and like the rest of the house so far, was unoccupied, but they could hear a couple of voices up the special stairs to the third level. Glenn motioned, and Mark followed after him as they silently made their way up the richly carpeted stairs. The voices grew louder as they made their way up, and both men readied the rifles for quick shooting. It sounded like at least two men were above, and possibly a third.
Mark was the first out the door. He spotted the wheelchair next to the massive oak desk near the large picture window. He shot without carefully locating his target, ripping off half a magazine, tearing holes in the desk and the wall beyond. What he didn't hit, because he wasn't there, was Antonio Rossetti, their primary target.
Glenn had come through immediately behind Mark, and realized immediately that in his eagerness Mark had screwed up. He turned quickly to his left, spotting two armed men who both had handguns pointed their way. His shots took down one of the men, but before he could rotate the muzzle the required ten degrees to engage the second adversary, he saw and heard the muzzle flashes from the gunman's weapon. He also realized that someone was shooting from the other side of the room. There had been three men here after all, and all of them armed! None appeared to be Rossetti.
Glenn realized something else. They were going to fail. Mark hadn't adjusted his aim to engage either of the two surviving shooters. Glenn was struck repeatedly in the chest and neck as the bullets he'd seen fired reached him. The pain was intense, and he found himself falling, unable to hold onto his weapons. He heard the shots from the second gunman, and correctly guessed that Mark was taking fire as well. Before everything went dark, Glenn heard gunfire on the lower level, and he realized they had been outmaneuvered and had lost the encounter.
On the lowest level, three guards had teamed up on Bill, their coordinated efforts more than he was prepared to deal with. He was able to bring down the first man he spotted, but while he was shooting at that man, the remaining two fired multiple well-placed shots into him. He dropped dead before he could even attempt to fire back.
"Look at that," the taller of the two guards noted as they carefully approached to check the body. "He's fading away."
Both men stepped quickly back at the impossible sight of the dead man turning transparent, then simply vanishing.
Unlike the guards, whose memory kernels had been part of the resident memory lattice, and therefore would remain as dead bodies until buried and then cleared from memory, Bill was a transient interloper, inserted by a Type I gaming couch, and once the programming realized he had been 'killed' it was finished with him, and simply wiped him from the simulation.
"Damn it!" Glenn cursed as he fought to get upright as the transparent cover of the chamber automatically raised to allow him room to sit up. He couldn't help but run his hands over his body where the rounds had struck, even though he knew that he hadn't really been hit. But, damn, it had hurt. He couldn't believe that anything could hurt so much, and wished this simulation was more flexible and allowed the pain to be dulled as it would have been in a gaming environment.
He realized the others were exiting their chambers as well. All four of them had been terminated. Even Luke who had been left outside.
"What happened to you?" Glenn asked.
"The guards were better than we gave them credit for," Luke replied. "When the guy I was waiting for came around the side of the building, a second and third man were waiting for me to attempt to nail him. We got the first one too easily, probably because the way we got inside their perimeter was simply impossible from their perspective. They didn't anticipate we were there, but once they accepted we had gotten inside by some unknown means, they organized and responded quickly. I'm guessing they heard the shot after all. I was hit before I could get a shot off.
"How could this have happened?" Glenn stewed. "Did they know that we were coming? Could someone have warned them?"
"Who could have known?" Carol asked. "You have kept these missions pretty quiet."
"I thought it was impossible to send messages or anything else into the Simulation?" Joe said. "That was the whole thing about this development you had those two outsider programmers come up with. This is the only way to access the inside, and we control it completely. You can't speak to anyone inside, send them messages, route a person inside, or anything. That's the way it's always been. So it wouldn't matter if someone here knew about our plans or not. There is nothing anyone could have done to warn those inside the Simulation."
"Who would have believed it anyway?" Luke asked, rubbing his chest much as Glenn had done.
"I don't like it," Glenn said angrily, although he couldn't tell whether it was because he was angry at their failure or if he really believed they had somehow been compromised. The itch that had been bothering him all day had proven real.
"What if those two computer engineers found another way to access the people in the Sim?" Glenn asked. "Maybe they warned them?"
"They don't know what you are using the doorway for," Joe reminded him. "They have been set to working on those other projects you want resolved, and kept completely away from what we have been doing with their doorway in."
"When was the last time they were in the Command Center?" Glenn asked. "When have they had system access?"
"Not for a couple of days, I believe," Joe said, "but I'll check. They haven't been here at the Resort in over a month, which we know is the only place an insertion is possible. They didn't do it that way. I believe we will find they haven't been near any of the workstations that would allow them access, even if they had a way to communicate inside."
"Check anyway," Glenn said. "And maybe we should have someone keep a closer eye on them. Maybe you were right that we should have dealt with them as soon as they finished the doorway inside."
"What do we do about Rossetti?" Joe asked softly.
"I don't know," Glenn admitted. "He has been warned that someone is after him now, which will make any action we try to initiate far more difficult. There's nothing we can do for now. He'll just have to wait."
He looked at the others.
"This is our first failure. We must understand if it was simply chance and a great defense team, or whether something else was involved. Think carefully about every detail you remember. We'll meet tomorrow, and discuss how we proceed."
Chapter 14
Los Angeles
"You're the one who warned my people someone was planning a hit?" Tony Rossetti asked.
They were gathered together in a large conference room on the upper floor of the LAPD Headquarters in downtown Los Angeles. The participants included, in addition to Mr. Rossetti, Subha Rao, Don and his brother Tim, Dr. Walter Latham, LAPD police detectives Sgt. Sammi [Samantha] Donaldson and Lt. Jesus Rodriguez, and Chicago police detective Sgt. John Morrison.
In charge was fifty-two year old Lt. Rodriquez. In charge of the homicide division within the LAPD, Rodriguez was heavyset, with salt and pepper hair, and a deep voice. Supporting him was Sgt. Sammi Donaldson, a thirty-one year old cynic on the fast track within the department. It had been Sammi's turn in the rotation when the reporter had called the other day warning of the discovery of a planned murder attempt. A five-foot seven inch brunette, the woman was attractive, but not a true beauty, with a trim and physically fit body kept in shape by three times a week workouts. Sgt. Morrison of the CPD was a forty-three year old veteran of the Chicago force, and had been selected to alert the gangster to the impending attack. Trim, solid, with light brown hair, worn military style short, he was less than pleased with his current assignment.
Anthony Rosseti and CPD Sgt. Morrison were in Los Angeles to meet with the informant that had given warning of the impending attack. It was the day after the failed attempt to kill Rossetti, and the group had gathered to consider the situation, and decide how they were to move forward from this point. Rao hadn't clearly thought the matter out himself, and was uncomfortable with the number of people that were learning the tr
uth of their situation, and was trying to think of a way to keep the secret from spreading, which would eventually be noticed by those in the outside world monitoring the Simulation.
Rao nodded, uncertain how to answer. He was surprised that Rossetti had made the trip with the police Sergeant. Not only were they on somewhat different sides of the law, but from the wheelchair that Rossetti occupied, and the deep lines etched into his face, he had to be in considerable discomfort. The personal bodyguard that had come with the aging and disabled Rossetti had been forced to wait outside, despite Rossetti's loud arguments against his exclusion.
"You were right about everything," Rossetti said. "You knew the number of shooters, when they would arrive, and even the fact they would somehow bypass my security and get inside the perimeter unobserved. I didn't believe that was possible, and as a result several of my men are dead. I would like to know how this could be. I would also like to know who these people were, and what happened to them."
"You aren't going to like the answer," Lt. Rodriguez said before Rao had a chance to speak. The LAPD detectives had already spent a few hours talking to Rao and the two scientists about the unusual situation. It had been Lt. Rodriguez that Don and Rao had been directed to speak with two days ago when they had contacted the LAPD about a possible attempt on an Anthony Rossetti in Chicago. The Lieutenant had expressed doubts, but given the respectable scientists that had supported their claim, he'd been placed in a situation where contacting the Chicago Police had seemed prudent. In the end, everything had taken place just as the foursome had warned. This morning he'd asked more about why and how they'd had the information, and hadn't been comfortable with what he'd been told. He knew if he'd probed as deeply the other day, he might not have made the call, which probably would mean Tony Rossetti would be dead now, something Rodriguez thought might have been okay.
"Wait a moment," Sgt. Morrison objected. "From my perspective, and that of the Chicago Police Department, that's not exactly the situation. I was told to alert Mr. Rossetti here about a possible attack planned against him, and offered men to help provide protection. Not surprisingly, he declined the support, claiming he didn't need the CPD inside his home. I believe he suspected an ulterior motive, and that no attack was actually expected. The next day, his bodyguard, the man you met earlier who is currently waiting outside, called and said the attack had actually materialized. He also said our warning had allowed them to be prepared, and the attackers were all dead."
"And?" Rodriguez asked, curious where the cop was going with his concern.
"When we arrived at the estate, we found three of Mr. Rossetti's men dead, but no sign of the attackers. There were a number of signs there had been a fight, but no bodies, blood, or anything belonging to anyone besides his men to indicate what had actually happened."
Sgt. Morrison was obviously displeased with the way the matter had developed, and the trip across country in the Tube with Rossetti, who hadn't been any more forthcoming, had only soured his attitude.
"And what did my men tell you had happened to the attackers?" Rossetti asked, obviously annoyed with the detective.
Sgt. Morrison looked uncomfortable.
"We were told they had vanished," he said finally.
"Vanished?" Rodriguez asked. "I thought you said they were killed?" he asked looking toward Tony Rossetti.
Rossetti was quick to respond. "You misunderstand. The Sergeant was informed of exactly what had happened, but he has chosen to doubt my word, and that of my men. The attackers did not escape, they simply vanished as in faded away. They disappeared as my men watched."
"That's absurd," Sgt. Donaldson hissed. She'd heard enough strange stuff from the Indian fellow, and hadn't expected more of the same from the gangster. It was time for someone to call bullshit on all this foolishness.
"Maybe you would like to say as much to Sal?" Rossetti asked, looking harshly at the sergeant. "He was there. He saw it happen, and Sal simply doesn't lie. Nor do my other employees, who back up his claims. Sal also doesn't like being called a liar."
Before the cynical detective could respond, Rao, nodding his head rapidly, said, "This is what should be. Yes, that is what would have happened. If you check with your counterparts in Washington, D.C. they will tell you the same thing happened there several months ago when the Senator was killed."
Don found this latter information extremely interesting, and realized it might explain why the cops there had been silent on events.
"How could something so impossible happen?" Rossetti asked eagerly. Surprisingly the jaded old gangster was the most willing to listen. "Tell me," he urged, when Rao hesitated, and none of the others appeared inclined to speak. "You seem to be the one who knows what this is about."
"I guess I'm partly responsible for what happened yesterday," Rao said, delaying having to reveal once again that these people weren't real in the sense they believed. The two LAPD officers had not taken to his revelations well, and he knew even now that they didn't want to believe what he'd told them.
"You?" Rosseti asked, his gray eyes turning hard. He might be old, but anyone could see he hadn't lost his fire, and at that moment Rao was very happy that Sal, the man's bodyguard was outside, and disarmed.
"You were part of the plan to have me killed?" Rossetti repeated.
Hurriedly, Rao shook his head.
"I am not meaning that," he said nervously. "I was one of those that found a way for the killers to enter your city, not knowing that was what they were planning."
"Why would they need your help to come into Chicago?" Rossetti asked, somewhat calmer but obviously confused.
Realizing Rao's nervousness, Don jumped in to help. He wasn't sure what had made him believe the story Rao had told them a couple of days earlier, but now he accepted the story the unusual man had told.
"Rao has a very strange story to tell, and while it is difficult to believe, he has given sufficient evidence that the three of us here with him believe what he professes is true. It will take a bit of time, but hear him out and then we can discuss the situation in more detail."
It took a while to tell, and even with the support of Don and the two scientists, the audience was a hard sell.
"You believe this crap?" Sgt. Morrison asked staring at the two academics. "Aren't you supposed to be scientists?"
"I didn't want to," Dr. Russell said in reply. "Unfortunately there are too many unexplainable incidents. Also I have memories that I am very certain are real, when they shouldn't be. In light of a better explanation, I feel it is prudent we listen to Mr. Rao. Everything he has said that we can verify has transpired as he predicted. You might be more willing to believe had you been present for a very dramatic demonstration he performed. Do you have a better explanation for what has been happening?"
"Where exactly are these people located?" Lt. Rodriguez asked. "I'll like to meet up with this Mr. Walker who is supposed to be the head man at this unusual government facility you claim he runs."
"That is a rather difficult question," Rao said slowly. "In the strictest sense, he is less than two miles from here."
"Two miles?" Sgt. Donaldson asked in disbelief. "Let's go and have a chat with him."
"You still don't really understand the situation," Rao quickly asserted. "I am meaning, we are in a massive computer. It sits in a building that is less than two miles from where Glenn Walker has his quarters. Unfortunately, we can't simply walk there. We can only go where the program allows. The Simulation will make us believe we are walking across the city of Los Angeles, and if we go far enough, out into the desert. Even if we walk to where the caverns are truly located, the Simulation won't reveal them to us."
"We would have to be extracted from the Simulation and somehow brought to that real world you claim exists," Don asked, seeing what Rao was getting at.
"That is right," Rao agreed.
"Isn't there any way we can contact those who are monitoring the Simulation?" Dr. Latham asked.
"Only if yo
u wrote a note and displayed it, and they happened to be watching at that very time. Highly unlikely, and in this case very dangerous if they knew enough to monitor us. The Simulation was made to be secure against communication between the outside and those of us living inside the Simulation. We are not supposed to be aware there is an 'outside'."
"What I still don't understand, is how we think there is a whole world when you say only ten cities are being simulated," Dr. Latham asked.
"Yeah, explain again how this is all configured," Lt. Rodriguez directed.
Knowing none would be happy with what they learned, Rao sketched out a large circle on a sheet of paper and marked out the ten smaller nodes that were equally spaced around the circumference.
"The nodes are each independent, and interconnected," he explained. "There are numerous advantages to this. For one thing, the ability of the computers used are being taxed, and breaking the simulation up into pieces minimized the strain on processing. It also yields a certain redundancy. Each node allows for roughly two million individuals. A failure in one node, with the possible collapse of the simulation there, isn't as catastrophic as if everything were running in a single environment. The loss would be unfortunate, but not completely fatal to the ultimate goals of the project."
"Obviously Los Angeles is one of the cities simulated," Lt. Rodriguez said. "Otherwise we wouldn't be here discussing the problem."
"As are Chicago and Washington," Rao agreed. "Our visitors are both from Chicago, and the earlier killings we have discussed were in the nation's capital."
"How does that work?" Don asked. "According to what you have told us they are being simulated in Chicago, yet they appear to be here with us in LA in this simulation."
"The simulations are linked, and run in concert with one another," Rao explained. "Remember the memory kernels? Both Sgt. Morrison and Mr. Rossetti's kernels reside in the lattice inside the Chicago node. When they elected to travel to LA, the processing of their personal entities was passed from that node to the LA node. It happened during the time they believed they were in the Tube traveling between cities."