Ghost Code

by Sarah Negovetich

  I fight back the urge to squirm in my chair. A new OS they’ve been working on for years. A few days ago I would have been impressed by a company making such a big investment in their tech systems. Today, I have a sinking suspicion I’m the new OS.

  “Okay, so half the day is over already. Why don’t you spend the rest of the day getting familiar with the current system, maybe tool around the network a bit. Tomorrow you can help us with the backup.”

  “Backup?”

  “Yeah, we’re being really careful with the OS install. We’re backing up the entire network on an offsite server at the end of next week. That way if something goes wrong with the install we won’t lose anything and everyone can keep working while we focus on repairing the issues.”

  “That…makes a lot of sense.” I swallow down the panic beating a drum solo in my chest. If they get the network backed up off site, I won’t be able to touch it. And blowing the system here will only dump all of us. They’ll be back up and running the next day, ready for a new controller.

  Samuel claps his hands and then stands up, rolling his chair back to the empty cubicle. “I’m going to leave you to it then. Tomorrow, we’ll get to work on the fun bit.”

  “Can’t wait.” My fake smile is wasted on Samuel as he hurries to the far corner of the floor where more workstations are lit up. Dammit. Where is Grant? He spent the last three days practically living up my butt, and now when I actually want to talk to him, he’s MIA.

  I boot up the tower in my station and pull a notebook out of my bag. If this is all going down next week, I need to learn everything I can about this system now. The whirring fan signals life in the CPU, and the monitor blinks to life, displaying the default home page for the VALR Corporation. My cursor is poised over the exit button, but a scrolling display stops me from clicking.

  There’s a bright picture of a chemical flask with a DNA strand woven across the background touting the success of their research. Another colorful image with a congenial elderly couple flashes up to thank a generous donor. A third graphic catches my eye. A bouquet of flowers with the title Honoring our Volunteers. I can’t resist jumping down the rabbit hole.

  The link takes me to a page outlining the volunteer nature of the VALR program participants and waxing poetic about our noble sacrifice, as if we have a choice in dying. There’s a brief history of the program and—129 volunteers to date. Shit. That’s way more than I ever thought.

  Another graphic floats at the bottom of the page, this time of a single red rose. The caption reads, “The First Volunteers.” Further down the hole I go.

  Ten smiling, but sickly faces stare up at me from the screen. As a unit they are young, I’d guess mid-twenties but with a good mix of gender and ethnicity. A few are obviously older. Each picture has a name and a disease listed. End Stage Renal Disease, Stage Four Carcinoma, Congestive Heart Failure. It’s like a yearbook of things that can kill you. I scan the pictures, wishing their eyes could give me answers until one picture forces me to stop scrolling. A guy with long black hair, wire rim glasses, and a perfectly kept bowtie. Just like the guy at the park. My gut tells me if I printed off this list and went back there, I’d see more than a few familiar faces.

  Maybe Adam was right. Grant told me himself that he doesn’t have all the answers. Maybe all this panic about turning into a Remnant is for nothing, and I could just stay here with Grant and the others. Sure, I would miss food and coding, but it’s better than being dead. Or all the way dead. And I won’t be sick. And eventually they might figure this thing out and then the controller can give everyone access to the program again. I wouldn’t have to live a half-life like Grant and Adam.

  I need to talk to Grant. Now.

  I print a quick copy of the original volunteers, shove it in my bag and head to the lobby. There are still a few hours left in the day, but what are they going to do, fire me? They want me in this program, getting close to the system in the hopes that I’m the one who integrates. I dash to my truck and actually let loose a genuine smile when I see Grant leaning against the door.

  “What’s got you in such a good mood?”

  “I might not have to kill you after all.”

  C:>SIXTEEN.exe

  Wanna run that one by me again?”

  I dig in my bag, pulling out the volunteer printout and holding it up two inches from Grant’s face. “These are the Remnants.”

  “Okay, I don’t want to eat it.” Grant quirks his eyebrows at me. “Can you start from the beginning and explain all this to me?”

  “These are the original volunteers.” I point to the ten faces on the page. “This was when the program was just getting started. I’m sure they made all kinds of mistakes. So these volunteers became the Remnants. But VALR learned and improved. That doesn’t happen anymore. According to Adam, no one has turned into a Remnant in ages.”

  Grant tenses, standing up straight and taking a tiny step closer to me. “You spoke to Adam?”

  “Yes.” I draw it out as if it were a five syllable word. “He asked to talk to me this morning before my internship, which you failed to show up for.”

  He takes one more tiny step toward me, his mouth pulled into a thin line. “So, if you knew you wouldn’t become a Remnant, and at the end of your coma you’d become like me, you’d be okay with that?”

  “It’s a hell of a lot better than deep spacing your brain waves for all eternity.”

  Grant tilts his head to the side, staring at me as if he’s seeing me for the first time. “Will you take a little trip with me?”

  I let out a heavy sigh. It’s not like I have anywhere else to be, but Grant is getting on my nerves right now. I expected him to be as excited as I am about the whole not dying thing, and for once he’s not an annoying ray of sunshine. “Do I have to?”

  “Of course not.” He gives me a tiny evil smile. “How do you eat an elephant?”

  I move to side step him, but he moves with me. “Please don’t.”

  “One bite at a time.” Grant slaps his hands together like he’s God’s chosen ambassador of comedy. “That’s a good one. Hey, what do you call a fake noodle?”

  “Grant.” My tone is a firm warning.

  “An impasta. Get it? An impasta! Oh, I could do this all day.” He leans back against the truck, arms crossed. “All night, too, really. Seriously, I’ve got a never-ending supply of bad jokes and nowhere better to be so I—”

  “Fine, we’ll go on your little trip.”

  Grant just smiles and waits for me to open the door so he can climb in.

  “You, sir, are a monster.”

  Grant looks over at me from his side of the cab and winks. “I regret nothing.”

  ✽✽✽

  “Just turn right here and pull over in front of the white house with the bright red door.”

  I ease my ancient truck over to the curb in a neighborhood just north of town. “Are you ready to tell me what we’re doing here?”

  Grant glances at the green digital read-out of my radio. “Waiting. It shouldn’t be too much longer.”

  I sit back against the seat and huff, my arms crossed in front of me. My mouth opens to offer some snarky comment, but one look at Grant has me shutting it. He’s perched on the edge of the seat, his hands gripping the dusty dashboard. His stare is a steady laser focus on the end of the road a few houses down.

  The digital display clicks over to 5:00, and a black sedan pulls up to the stop sign at the intersection Grant hasn’t looked away from. It turns right, driving past a few houses, all identical apart from their trim color, and pulls into the driveway of the white house with the red door.

  Grant sucks in a breath, holding it tight in his lungs for a second too long before pushing it out in a chaotic rush that sounds like a windstorm in the cramped truck cab. His fingers grip tighter to the dash, but his eyes have softened. Instead of a laser focus, they flit from side to side of the sedan as the doors open and a middle aged couple gets out.

  They both ha
ve the same poker straight black hair and almond eyes that sit well on their delicate faces. The man has a strong chin with a little dimple in it, just like Grant. The woman smiles at something he says and her full-bodied laughter floats into the truck. The same as Grant’s.

  I glance over, and Grant sits with his eyes closed, his smiling face leaning toward the window as if he’s trying to capture the sound. The sharp pop of two car doors closing grabs his attention, and he returns to staring at the couple.

  I follow their movements from the sedan, up the stone walk, and through the red door. It closes behind them, and light fills the curtained window next to the door.

  Grant sits back, his shoulders curled in on himself and arms wrapped tight around his stomach.

  I turn to face him, my voice unsure. “Are they…”

  “My parents.” His voice is a soft whisper in the sudden stillness of the cab.

  I nod and glance away, my fingers silently tapping out the code for retrieving deleted files. We sit in silence while the digital display flashes through the minutes, Grant’s eyes never leaving the white house with the red door.

  My phone rings. I dig around in my bag until my hand grasps the cool metal. My mother’s name flashes on the caller ID. I hit the ignore button and shove the phone back into my bag. She can wait.

  We sit in stillness while Grant watches the house, and I watch Grant. Finally, the light in the window flashes off, and Grant moves for the first time since it came on. “We can go now.”

  I don’t question him or even look over, though his hand reaches up to wipe at his eye in the periphery of my vision. Putting the truck in gear, I steer us out of the neighborhood and head south, back toward my side of this reality. I’m not really heading toward anywhere, but when the park comes into view, I pull into the lot and cut the engine.

  “Time doesn’t really move here, not the way it’s supposed to.” Grant’s voice is a little stronger, but there’s a slight tremor to it giving away his emotions. “They look exactly the same as they did when I died. I’m not sure if that’s a blessing or a curse.”

  “Do you do that often? Go to their house and watch them?”

  Grant shakes his head. “Where you go, I go. The bubble is only about ten blocks. If you can’t see it, I’m not there. If you’re not there, the VR isn’t active.”

  I stare out at the playground, the kids running around from the slide to the swings and back again. The cluster of parents sitting on benches or pushing kids on swings. If I weren’t here right now, none of them would be either. The programmers would be off creating patrons in the coffee shop or employees at VALR.

  “How long has it been since you’ve seen them?”

  Grant stares off at the playground, though I don’t think he really sees it. “Time is hard to tell. The last three controllers before you all refused to take me. Maybe that’s a good thing.”

  I stare into the fake revelry of the park. I can see my mom any time I want. I can talk to her, and she’ll answer me. I can settle into her warm hugs, press my face into her neck and sniff in the unique smell that will forever be my mom. It’s not her any more than those people today were Grant’s parents. But if I close my eyes I can pretend, and that’s better than nothing.

  But one day, I won’t be able to. I’ll have to watch while some other controller talks to their mom. I’ll be like Grant, begging a stranger to drive me to my little rundown neighborhood and park in front of our house, waiting for Mom to get off work so I can watch her for thirty seconds. I can’t think of a worse existence.

  “Next week, they are upgrading the operating system in all of VALR. As a precaution they are transferring everything on the network to an offsite storage facility. Once it’s there, the program will be untouchable. We need to take this down, and we need to do it now, before the backup.”

  Grant looks over at me, his eyes bloodshot. “You’re still going to do this?”

  “I lost my dad a few years after they found the cancer the first time. There were so many nights when I was there, stuck in the hospital room, and all I wanted was my dad. But I was a hostage in a beeping room of strangers, and he was gone. My roommate’s dad was there every day, bringing her comfort items from home, keeping her updated on what was going on in the world, just being there. I know what it’s like to watch someone else have what you so desperately want and know you can never have. I can’t do that again.”

  “Thank you.” Grant’s voice catches on the final word, and he presses his lips together, holding in the sob attempting to forcefully exit his chest.

  I don’t do friends. Never have. I’ve never understood the need to tell someone else your secrets or hold on to theirs. The last thing I want or need is to feel like I’m responsible for someone else. But Grant sits in front of me, and he’s hurting, and I know what that’s like. Before I can even think about if I want to or not, I reach out toward him. My hand hits his shoulder and passes on through. He flickers for a second. Because in this fake reality, Grant is even less real than I am. A non-corporeal observer in a world that will never be his. And that’s what I’ll become. A ghost.

  C:>SEVENTEEN.exe

  I push through the doors of the VALR building and stifle a yawn with my free hand. It feels like I barely slept at all last night. Though according to Grant, I guess none of us did.

  “Viv.” Dr. Spencer waves me over to where she stands by the front desk.

  “Good morning, Dr. Spencer.” I flash her my now practiced fake smile.

  “Good morning. I was hoping I could catch you before you got started working today.” She puts a too heavy arm around my shoulder and steers us toward the bank of elevators, eliminating any chance I had of avoiding her. “I know you’re not scheduled to see me until next week, but I was wondering if we could have a quick chat in my office.”

  The elevator dings open, and we both walk in. “Of course.”

  She pushes the button for the fourth floor, and the door slides shut with only the two of us, despite the crowd of people in the lobby. “How was your first day yesterday?”

  “Pretty standard for a first day, I guess.” I struggle for words that will bring this conversation to a close so I can get to work on what I really came here to do. “Thanks again for helping me get the internship.”

  “My pleasure, Viv.” The elevator stops, and we both exit and walk straight to her office. “My focus is on helping you adjust, and I think a job here at VALR is the perfect plan.”

  I hover near the door, hoping that’s the end, but Dr. Spencer gestures to the big, overstuffed gray chairs. Apparently, we’re not done.

  I sit, shifting my bag to my lap. “What did you want to talk about?”

  Dr. Spencer perches on the edge of her desk. “There are a few things I’d like to talk to you about. One of the other employees said they saw you outside yesterday and it looked like you were talking to yourself. Do you know what I’m talking about?”

  Shit. Adam. Not to mention every time I have a conversation with Grant where anyone else can see. Think…think.

  “Yes. I…I do that sometimes. It helps me to talk through my thoughts.”

  She looks at me with narrowed eyes like she’s not buying any of this. I barely talk when I’m with other people; it’s probably a stretch to imagine me chatting it up when I’m alone.

  “I, uh…pretend I’m talking to my dad.” Yes, dead fathers almost always end the inquisition.

  Dr. Spencer nods and smiles softly at me. “You must miss him terribly.”

  I nod, perhaps a bit too quickly, and try to work some tears up. “I do.”

  Her soft smile fades, and her face turns serious again. “Your mother called me last night, worried when you didn’t come home for dinner. She said she called you, but you never answered your phone. She’s worried about you.”

  I resist the need to roll my eyes. My mother’s not worried, because she’s sitting next to my bed watching me die. “She shouldn’t be. I’m fine.”

  “
Can you tell me where you went?”

  As if you didn’t know. If Grant is right and the VR program is only active in my presence, then they already know exactly where I was and how long I was there. The only thing they don’t know is why and with whom.

  “I drove over to the north side of town. One of the fancy, newer neighborhoods.”

  A sharp nod from Dr. Spencer as if confirming that I’m telling the truth.

  “Can you tell me why you went there?”

  Time to find out how convincing of a liar I can be. “It’s kinda embarrassing.”

  Dr. Spencer plasters on her saccharine sweet smile and moves to the chair next to me. “I hope you know that I would never judge your actions or feelings.”

  I nod and smile sheepishly as if her words have given me the confidence to keep going, instead of just using it as a stalling tactic to come up with an answer. A lame idea pops into my head, but it’s all I’ve got. “Mom and I have always struggled with money. She doesn’t make much, and what she did bring home was always eaten up by my medical bills.”

  I pause to consider my words carefully, and Dr. Spencer nods, urging me on.

  “Now those bills are gone, and there aren’t going to be any more. Maybe someday I can go to college and get a really good job, and we can afford something better than where we live now.” I dip my head so she can’t see my eyes when I finish the lie. “I was there daydreaming about the kind of future I can have some day. I’ve never had a future before.”

  A heavy hand lands on my arm, and I look up to find Dr. Spencer simpering at me. “That’s a lovely dream, Viv. I want you to keep focusing on the kind of future you want to have. The world is full of endless possibilities. And if you ever want to talk to a real person, I’m here.”

  I nod and smile so wide my cheeks hurt with the effort. “Thank you, Dr. Spencer.”

  She pats my hand and stands up. “Thank you for sharing with me. You better get going before Samuel comes looking for you.”

  Ducking out of the office, I walk to the elevators as fast as I can without looking like I’m running from a building on fire. I’m being watched more closely than I realized, which is going to make my plan even harder to carry out. I need to talk to Grant, and that’s an entirely new sensation for me.