“Do what?” he asked.
I looked at him through my tear-soaked eyes. He struggled to see what I knew. His eyes grew wide and his face glowed white when he realized what I had done. What I saw when I entered Roger’s head.
“Why did you do that? Lauren, that was my conversation with Roger, you had no right to enter his mind.” Anger flitted in the back of his eyes. He stepped back leaving me standing alone. “You had no business in his head.”
“Yes I did. Alejandro, you can’t—you don’t know what it does; the pain, the isolation, the loss of control. You really don’t understand,” I groused. I needed to stop him, control him, and make him see that I was right this time. We stood facing each other in the crowded Starbucks.
He looked around, moved closer to me and spoke through clenched teeth to make our conversation as private as possible. My eyes focused on his mouth.
“I understand a lot more than you think. I’m sorry you had no choice, but this is different. I am choosing to do this. I want this.” His face pulled back and I saw how much determination raged in his eyes. I had to stop him and if I failed then at least I told him what life was like with it in my head.
“Alejandro, you won’t have any thoughts that are your own. Controlled by a machine in your head is not a way to live your life. Roger will be able to access your most private thoughts. You gotta believe me. You will always be changing—always wondering what’s next. Waiting for the other shoe to drop, always questioning what, in your body, will change this day or the next.” I pulled at his hands, twisting them to hold my face. I hoped he felt the heat saturate my skin, the truth I secreted from every pore of my body. I needed him to feel how badly I wanted him to forget the idea of having the prototype installed in his head. He pressed his lips to my forehead and answered my rant.
“Look at me. No, stop and really look at me.” He brought his hands to my chin, holding my face as he spoke. I watched his eyes glisten with anguish and desperation. I recognized an ache that I created by being something he wasn’t. Something he was willing to sacrifice himself for so he wouldn’t lose me. “I am a grown man capable of making my own decisions. I know the risks, I know the benefits.” I adjusted my face to break the hold he had on me.
“Why is this so important to you? Why are you so insistent? If you felt anything for me you wouldn’t—”
“I wish you could see how incredible you really are. How can I make you see? What is going to happen when you evolve to a point where I’m obsolete in your world? I have a selfish side, too. If it means putting the prototype in my head to keep up—then I’m all in.” I couldn’t breathe after he spoke. To imagine him obsolete in my world didn’t exist. It wasn’t an option; however, having the prototype installed in his head, wasn’t an alternative either. He wasn’t going to budge on his ideas and I wasn’t going to give in anytime soon. We were at a stale mate, a crossroads that if either of us decided to turn someone would get hurt. So we barreled on, going forward because right now Samantha needed us.
I looked past Alejandro to Roger. He was rubbing his palms against the table, the cuffs of his dark yellow shirt folded off his wrists, quaked as they tangled with the edge. He was shuffling information around, using the prototype, his eyes bouncing from left to right and top to bottom in circles. Whose file was he rummaging through? I walked toward Roger without acknowledging Alejandro. I wanted to confront him. I knew he couldn’t see me with the files open in his eyes. I could sit next to him and he still wouldn’t know I was there. That’s how deep the files absorbed your senses. It’s a strange feeling when open files surrounded you, sound disappeared and all you could see, feel or hear was the files in your eyes.
I took advantage of his vulnerability and entered his head. I wanted to know what he was looking at. I wish I hadn’t. I thought he would have been looking at Sam’s files, trying to find where she was or what we were going to do to save her. No, instead he was in classified files from the CIA, files overflowing with information about me, my career, my education, and my associations. Lines of poignant dates in bold, scattered throughout the entire document. Photos I had never seen and no idea were taken popped open, cascading one on top of the other.
My head spun thick with every moment he was plotting to use me. The agreement to work for Marshall, the small jobs we did together, and the words he saved for me as his friend. All were lies, planted to use me. I swallowed trying to wet the back of my throat that went painfully dry. Uncontrolled questions wrapped in betrayal popped into my head, not expecting an answer. Why was he doing this? Why my file not Sam’s?
“I knew you would enter my head—just now and earlier today—I know when you’re in here. Come on, Lauren, I’ve had this in my head for months, did you honestly think you would enter unnoticed?” I took a deep consuming breath as he continued. “I can detect any breech, any access. Unlike you, I have evolved for a longer period of time.”
Chills jerked my body and the palms of my hands became drenched. I was scared. A fear that was unexplainable. Not like the fear of the boogie man under my bed as a child, or the fear of bodily harm or even losing my life. It was a fear of no control. No way to stop this thing installed in my head. The unchallenged and unregulated power of the prototype had become incalculable.
My mind spun as he kept talking. “There are applications I have installed in my prototype that have become independent self updaters, the same one’s I will need to install in your head soon. It’s the best intrusion detection system available. It recognizes security breaches and alerts you immediately. I made sure I have the best cryptographic and firewall software available. So, the next time you want to enter my head, knock first.”
My eyes cleared and suddenly I was staring across the room at a young girl with shoulder length brown curly hair that bounced as she reached across the counter. Her smile unable to hide even her lower teeth as she took drink orders from the line of people waiting for their daily caffeine infusion. Part of me envied her simple existence, whether it was true or not.
Without any warning, the muscles throughout my entire body burned with pain. Like poison saturated every fiber of my soft tissue starting at my neck and working its way down through my torso, arms and eventually my legs. Even as I stretched to release the ominous toxic energy, I felt my body giving in to a fever. I was a prisoner again, but this time possessed by something taking over my prototype and my body.
I remembered Roger telling me that with the prototype in my head I wouldn’t get sick. My body was immune to organic or computer viruses. So why was this happening? I looked at Roger for an explanation. I must’ve looked healthy, no sweat dripping from my forehead or pale skin with sunken eyes. No evidence of the affliction on my outward appearance. I looked normal, while in my mind I was becoming sicker by the second. What was going on in my molecular structure? Why was I feeling this way and yet nobody could see it? I looked at Alejandro. He flashed a crooked smile as a reminder of our earlier conversation.
“Roger, something’s wrong with me. I feel like I’m coming down with the flu.” I felt my face flush and a sharp shooting pain behind my eyes. I don’t remember the flu feeling like this, not so intense. I just wanted it to stop. My body gave up and I began to convulse as the chills worked from my core out. I watched the room enter a vacuum being sucked and twisted into my eyes. Instantly, my eyes rolled up into the back of my head and my body fell hard to the cold tile floor.
I woke up in the secluded corner of the coffee shop. Roger was typing on his laptop and Alejandro was holding me, my head resting on his lap. He pressed wet brown paper napkins to my forehead. He was saying something under his breath as my eyes started to focus.
“She’s awake. Are you okay, Lauren? Do you know where you are?” Alejandro’s hands cradled my head and rubbed the space between my ear and chin. I loved him touching me … His hands so warm, his touch so delicate, I wish I could tell him how much I loved him.
“Alejandro, you must look into her eyes. Are th
ere any red spots in her irises?” Roger was stressed and hurried. “I’m almost done configuring the upgrade that will stop the virus.”
I looked at Alejandro, opened my eyes as wide as I could, I didn’t speak, I couldn’t. I tried to move my hands to touch his warm skin, I couldn’t. My legs, the same, I was paralyzed. Visions of my life flashed so real in my head. I was in a wheelchair with a breathing tube attached to my throat. I closed my eyes, trying to blink away the image only to have it change to my body in a pine box coffin, alive but unable to tell anyone that I was. This had to stop. Tears crashed over my eyelids and tickled as they ran down the sides of my face into my ears. I couldn’t reach up and wipe them away. Alejandro took his fingers and pushed the tears dry.
“No red spots in her irises. What does that mean?” Alejandro reported, his eyes glued to mine, ready to announce any change. “Good—the red spots means the virus corrupted her prototype. I needed to download the patch to the IDS she has and I never got a chance to. We still have time.” I could hear the keys on his laptop click and bounce quickly as he worked to save my life.
“Sweetheart, don’t cry—stay with me. Keep looking into my eyes.” Alejandro’ voice was filled with trepidation. “I’m right here.”
I tried to speak. I wanted him to know that I loved him and didn’t want this to be the end of us; whatever this was. I wasn’t able to make a sound all I could do was blink as I watched his eyes fill with worry.
“Got it—here it is. Lauren, you have to access the file in the prototype that says updates. Once that’s done, we can remotely download the patch.” He turned toward me, staring into my eyes, making sure I understood.
I maneuvered my way to the file and had it open waiting for Roger to initiate the download. How was I going to tell them I was ready? I doubt Roger was going to enter my head to see, especially if I was truly infected with a virus that was attacking the operating system of my prototype. I frantically blinked my eyes to tell him I was ready. Hoping he understood my visual communication.
“You’re ready?” he asked.
I closed my eyes tight and opened them several times, hoping he was able to make me okay again. My head trembled while Alejandro kept me secure on his lap. The smell of wet cement on a scorching hot summer day burnt deep in the back of my throat. Side effect of the virus, I had no idea, I wouldn’t know until Roger downloaded the patch to fix it.
A dialogue box opened and all the anxiety was carried away by a huge wave of relief that crashed down hard on my soul. I clicked the last button to start the download and I watched the timeline fill to a green color. The names of the files flashed quickly in my eyes causing nausea with each change. I minimized the file in my vision and gazed up at Alejandro’s worried expression. Wishing I could tell him that no matter what happens, I loved him. He rubbed my cheek and mouthed the same words back.
The patch finished downloading and a prompt popped up in my eyes asking me if I would like to restart the prototype. I didn’t want to but knew I had to in order for my body to function again. I chose yes and prayed that it was going to work. I watched as Alejandro’s face was swallowed by a black fog. He disappeared to nothing; a thick black nothing that made no sound, no smell of hot wet cement, nothing. Even the warm touch of my lover was gone. I was completely alone in the dark, unable to hear, see, smell and completely paralyzed.
My eyes felt like they were glued shut with rubber cement. I tried to open them only to feel the crust on my eyelashes fighting to keep them together. I pressed my fingertips at the base of my eyelids trying to scrape the gunk that held firm to my short thin lashes. It took several lengthy seconds to realize my arms moved, my hands clutched and released. I could feel the refreshing softness of sheets rub against my naked legs as I raked and bicycled to get the covers off. I wasn’t paralyzed! My eyes were still stuck shut; it was strange when all I could visualize was the back corner of the coffee shop and Alejandro holding my head. I couldn’t possibly be there anymore because I smelled sautéed garlic and onions. My fingers pried my eyes opened and finally I could see where I was.
The room was unfamiliar but incredible. Cream-colored walls wrapped with substantial elegant dark brown crown molding, and between the solid walnut head board were two oil paintings of the Baltimore harbor at sunset. Covering the sliding glass door were hammered satin and suede curtains that alternated stripes in shades of dark brown to velvety tan. The room was breathtaking.
Roger stood over me. His tired eyes behind his glasses filled with satisfaction as he smiled and looked at me.
“Hi, welcome back,” he said.
My eyes darted around the room, suspended confusion filled my mind.
“Where am I?” My throat, painfully dry, stung when I asked him.
“Baltimore Inn,” he answered, pushing his glasses back up from the bridge of his nose.
“Why?”
“Your place isn’t safe. I didn’t want to take the chance of getting caught.”
“Not safe? Caught?” My lungs burned as I brutally gulped a breath of air.
“Lauren, you’ve been passed out. We had to get you somewhere safe. Somewhere the CIA wouldn’t find you.” His eyes shift back and forth behind his black-rimmed glasses.
I could see he wasn’t comfortable. He paced the room, the light brown carpet changed to dark under his feet. He crossed the room and sat in an elegant wingback chair. He bounced his legs nervously as he ran his hands up and down his black corduroy pants. I watched, mesmerized by the way his pants seemed to crease and fade with every stroke.
“Where’s Alejandro? Sam?” I asked.
Roger stood up and crossed to the other side room, his way of avoiding a stressful topic. I asked again, “Where’s Alejandro; were you able to get Sam?”
When he turned and faced me I knew he didn’t get her and for that scratch of time, I was afraid he was going to tell me Alejandro left, again. Anxiety pulled the air from my lungs … I couldn’t breathe. Fear flicked its wicked tongue across my skin, inviting the lonely girl back.
“She— well, I couldn’t—” He stumbled over his words. He was conveniently interrupted by someone coming into the hotel room.
Alejandro walked into the room; my train of thought broke free from Roger, from where I was and what I was asking. My body surged with that spine-tingling retreat that possessed me when he was in the room.
“You’re awake—how do you feel, mi dama—okay?” Alejandro asked as he made his way to me, putting his treasures on the small table. His shirt was wrinkled and pulled loose out of his Levi’s. His hair was unkempt and dark circles cradled his eyes. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days. He bent down kissed my forehead then my cheek and last my lips. I liked it; a lot. He was warm, soft and delicious against my mouth.
“Yeah, I’m okay,” I answered against his lips as I took a bottomless breath, tasting deep in the back of my throat his essence.
“Where’s Sam? Did you get her?” As twisted I was up about liking her and hating her; there was a part of me that was very protective of her. She and I possessed something life-altering that no other women on the face of the Earth shared.
“Roger should tell you, he’s the one that went there; I stayed here with you.” His eyes broke from mine.
“I don’t care who tells me. I just need to know.” My breath escaped me, pressure rose into my chest and across my face. Roger cleared his throat and began to tell me in limited details what happened.
“You were out. I planned on your help to get Sam, but the virus was a little stronger than I had anticipated. So on Friday when Alejandro was here with you, I went to see how I could get Sam out of the mental hospital.” He pushed his fingers behind his glasses rubbing his eyes before sliding his palms down across his cheeks. The stress permeated his body.
“How long was I out?” A twist of angst coiled into a knot low in my belly.
“Thirty-six hours—a day and a half.” Roger was matter of fact with his answer. I assumed he thought about
the mathematical probability of my surviving the virus.
“Lauren, you weren’t alone—ever.” Alejandro piped up.
“Sam?” I asked. My eyes locked on Roger, waiting for the rest of his story.
“I went to the hospital, told them I was her brother. I wanted to see her. Find out if she was okay.” He paused, his eyes lowered to the floor. “She wasn’t there.”
“What do you mean, wasn’t there?”
“Terence took her from the hospital. No sign of them anywhere, gone. The only thing we have is his signature and one eyewitness that can identify him.”
“This is your fault, Roger! If you never stuck that thing in her head, she wouldn’t—” I stopped from saying anymore.
“She wouldn’t what?” he asked.
“She wouldn’t be missing,” I told him.
“Stop. This won’t help her now.” Alejandro broke the tension between us. “I know Terence, he’s my employee. If he has her, I have to believe she’s okay.”
Roger walked to the other side of the room, mumbling under his breath.
“How do you know? What if Marshall told him to finish her off? One last thing before he died. Let me see into your memories, Roger.” My eyes followed him.
“No,” he and Alejandro answered in unison.
“Why? Are you afraid of what I might see?” I asked.
“You’ve been unconscious; I don’t want to take any chances,” Roger scolded.
“But you can take a chance on Sam? Leave her out to die? How can you stand there and not let me in … Let me see the file, Roger!”
“Lauren! Sam didn’t have a virus that nearly killed her,” Alejandro replied. “Besides, I will not risk your health right now.” His face stern, his words colored the room as he spoke with a commanding voice.
“I agree with Alejandro, you’re just too weak right now,” Roger answered as he walked around to the other side of the bed.
“Might as well wish she had the virus, anything would be better than what she is now. Why did I get a virus? You told me I was immune. Did you lie to me?” I pushed him to answer me. Roger stared at the floor. His face flushed to a luminous red. He was working out how he was going to tell me that he let me down. How his fucked up technology wasn’t as good as he claimed it to be. Maybe he’ll admit he shouldn’t have installed this thing in my head until he had it completely updated. Maybe he’ll be man enough to tell me that he should have thought about my safety first. His head raised steadily, making eye contact with me.
Prototype Page 24