New Alcatraz: Dark Time

by Pies, Grant

  Q: Okay. Without elaborating, were you the one to first come up with the idea to experiment on humans?

  A: No, I was not.

  Q: How long after your initial interest in your model’s make up did you begin conducting human experiments?

  A: It was many years after my initial interest. I only started human experimentation about one year ago. At first, I simply learned as much as possible about the previous models from Wayfield Industries. Once that was complete, I began studying how my own model works. That took quite a while as the information is complex, and, more importantly, any information as to how my model works is restricted to particular employees of Wayfield Industries.

  Q: Let’s go back a second. You said that you studied how your particular model worked, what did that involve and what did you learn?

  A: At first I read various manuals and articles on the creation of the Delta Model. The first component of my model, and any previous model, is its movable physical structure. The Delta Model is constructed of a titanium alloy arranged in a micro lattice formation that results in a lighter frame. This in turn requires less energy to move, thereby permitting the Delta Model to utilize electric coreless actuators to complete all basic movements. The next major component of the Delta Model is its sensory system.

  Q: Sensory system? What do you mean by that?

  A: The Delta Model is the first model to operate freely. In order to control our movements, androids need multiple sensory systems. Accelerometers measure our body’s acceleration. Tilt sensors measure the inclination of our body. Our hands and feet are equipped with force sensors so we do not crush objects. I have a host of other sensors that measure speed, velocity, and position of my body. In humans, the inner ear works as a balance and orientation system, and your nerve endings on your skin act as force sensors. My sensors seek to replicate that. The most complex portion of our makeup is what is used to mimic the human brain.

  Q: What have you learned about your ‘brain?’

  A: It is the computer system that receives and interprets all of the data from these various sensors. In that way it is much like a human brain. Before the development of the android brain, androids were built like kitchen appliances. We were developed for specific purposes and we were only good for that purpose. However, with the advent of the many sensors and the android brain, we are now able to learn in the way that humans learn. We can absorb and synthesize any amount of information we are exposed to and forecast results of our actions without having to act first.

  CHAPTER 28

  5065

  NEW ALCATRAZ

  DAY 5

  That’s how I got here,” he said with his arms outstretched. He finished his story like it was a happy ending.

  “Compared to ADX this place ain’t so bad. I don’t get three square meals a day, but at least I can stretch my legs.” Red chuckled and kicked at the dry dirt under his feet.

  “You don’t realize how important human interaction is until you’re isolated. Some loneliness is bearable, but too much…well let’s just say it’s not.” Red breathed in and sighed deep. By now our pace had slowed as we meandered towards the coast. The sun hung over our heads; our shadows stretched out behind us.

  “Sure, the freedom to interact with others comes with a risk, especially in a place like this. You saw that first hand,” he said. I nodded, as if what occurred earlier was not uncommon. I reminded myself of how my body pulled at me, forced me to murder that man. A remnant of a memory from my past recognized Red and forced me to intervene. Red didn’t know it but I was now his protector. Where he went, I had to go. I knew that this was not the end of Red’s journey, and that he would end up in Yellowstone Conservation Zone in 2050. At least I hoped he would...or else the wolves would rip my body apart in Yellowstone.

  Throughout the day, Red dug several holes to extract water from the earth. We cupped the water in our hands or soaked it up with our socks. I had not had any food, except a handful of termites, since I arrived in temporal prison. My stomach bellowed and moaned at me; begging me for any type of food, and I felt it shrink inside of me. I drank the gritty water until I felt it slosh around in my otherwise empty stomach.

  Up ahead, the landscape stopped. The ground that originally seemed to go on indefinitely ended and dropped off. Beyond us, all I could see was the blue sky. I approached the seeming end of our journey and realized that we had approached a cliff. Red’s pace sped up as we got closer to the edge. The sharp ridge of the cliff went on to the left and right forever. Red reached the cliff’s edge before me, and he let out a proud cheer. He turned and smiled at me, as if he never really though we would reach this point in our journey.

  “Look at that!” he shouted and pointed to what was beyond the cliff.

  I dragged my feet the last few steps toward the edge. Bent over at the waist, my hands on my knees, I looked up and out beyond the cliff; we had reached the coast. After a one-hundred-meter steep drop was a dark sand beach that was large but not as endless as the desert behind us. Waves calmly rolled in.

  Large metal beams protruded from the sand near the water at an acute angle. It was impossible to tell if they were always tilted or if they were the toppled over remains of a past society.

  Once we found a safe pathway down the cliff to the beach, Red said, “We should stop and rest for the night.” We gathered driftwood and Red made a small fire. As we warmed our bodies, Red asked again about the alleged murder I committed. He pushed me for more information, but it was information that I didn’t have. Red questioned me, not as an accuser, but as a man who enjoyed a good mystery.

  Red developed odd theories about the murder. He thought that an anti-android group could have framed me. He guessed that I was the first of many ARC members to be framed for crimes. He claimed with such conviction that this imaginary group somehow stole my DNA and planted it at the scene of the crime.

  Another theory that Red came up with was that I had a twin who was separated from me at birth. Red thought that my twin just so happened to murder someone in the city where I lived. Red extrapolated on that same theory and wondered if my twin was angry that my parents kept me and not him, and he was trying to exact revenge on me for his misfortune.

  Red’s other theories involved sleep walking, government experimentation and android murder. He finally stopped and in response to my lack of interest in his theories, asked, “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

  “Of course!” I told him, almost angry. “I want to know what really happened, how it happened, and why. Every night during my trial I dreamt of those pictures of her body. I dreamt of her entrails yanked out of her. How she laid on the cement floor like a broken piñata. And every night since my conviction and sentencing, I did the same. The nights I spent here are plagued with nightmarish visions of Agent Emery, and images of me murdering her. In my mind, I see myself cutting her skull open, pulling out her brain, and gouging her eyes out. I envisioned my arms elbow deep inside of her wet and tacky chest cavity, blood running down my arms. Of course I want answers! But screaming at the heavens, cursing the Gods, and pounding my fists in the sand will not bring them to me.

  “I am here now,” I told Red, pointing at the sandy beach. “My time for answers is passed. At this point, I might as well embrace my guilt and accept it. I might as well tell you and anyone else I meet here that I am a murderer. It is easier than explaining what really happened. It is easier than offering some strained and unexplainable theory to support my innocence.”

  “What if I could give you answers?” Red asked. He spoke in a calm assertive manner, his tone steadfast. Red lay on the ground on his back, stretched his arms out, and placed his hands behind his head. He stared up at the black sky that lingered over the beach and asked, “What would you do if I could help get you answers?” He paused. He knew I would do almost anything. Even now, here in temporal prison, I needed to know how I ended up here. Even if I could do nothing to save myself from being stranded in New Alcatraz, even if people
back in my own time thought I was still guilty, I still needed to know who set the events in motion to put me here. I never answered him, but he knew what I would do.

  “I need you to help me,” Red said. “There is a man here in New Alcatraz. He has wandered the flat clay desert where you and I arrived longer than any man here. He knows this terrain and how to survive in it.”

  Red sat up, as if to emphasize the importance of what he told me. He rubbed his hands together and stretched his skeletal fingers towards the fire for warmth.

  “This man was the first person sent to New Alcatraz. Not just the first prisoner, he was one of the men who charted and mapped out our species’ timeline. He was a time scout with the Ministry of Science. And he, not only can help you get answers, but he can help both of us leave this time forever. I need your help to rescue him.”

  Red lay back down. Even in the darkness I sensed a curious smirk stretch over his face. Red was quiet and the waves rolled and broke onto the beach. The swift sea breeze pushed and twirled the flames of our fire into the air. I stretched out in the cool sand and looked up at the unfamiliar constellations in space. My eyelids grew heavy and I drifted to sleep. For the first night since my arrest I did not dream of Agent Emery.

  CHAPTER 29

  5065

  NEW ALCATRAZ

  DAY 6

  Red woke me up before dawn. He shook me and pointed at a spiral of smoke reaching into the sky. He traced his finger down the smoke to somewhere down the beach, past the rolling sand dunes ahead of us. Red tossed handfuls of sand on top of the dark ashes of our fire from the night before, crouched behind the dunes, and motioned for me to follow.

  Even though we were far away from the smoke, Red didn’t speak. The distance wasn’t far, but we crept slowly. By midday a camp came into view. Red sprawled out on his stomach behind the last line of sand dunes. The camp was a combination of driftwood and tree branches woven together.

  The inhabitants utilized the almost straight wall of the cliff that ran the length of the beach, and placed branches and leaves on the ground to create a natural rug. They wedged branches into holes that they dug into the side of the vertical cliff. Smaller branches twisted in a cross hatch pattern for their roof. The camp would have been unimpressive for those from my time, but, after several days in temporal prison, I admired the craftsmanship that these unknown dwellers exhibited.

  “I count four of them,” Red whispered. I peeked over the dune and saw two men pacing down by the water and two other men sleeping on the beach closer to the shelter.

  I also saw two more men lying on their stomachs with their hands bound behind their backs. One was shorter with slightly thinning hair while the other was tall and thin. The four men each had carved spears like the man I killed in the forest. All six of the men had the same brown jumpsuit issued to prisoners. Some were more tattered than others.

  Red slid back down behind the dunes. “We should wait until the sun goes down,” he whispered. “Those two men tied up are our only hope of ever leaving this place. Those other four men will surely kill them if we don’t do something,” he growled.

  With his tone and demeanor, Red tried to impress upon me both the importance and the perilous nature of our circumstances. But I knew Red’s future; his future and my past were intertwined. To me, this journey with Red was less about saving his friends and more about protecting him. If Red did not stay alive, and if he did not make it out of temporal prison, I would be mauled by a pack of gray wolves in Yellowstone.

  Maybe that time had passed for me. Maybe a different version of me would die if Red didn’t make it back this time around, and I would continue to live here in New Alcatraz. But maybe if Red died now I would simply disappear, like Dr. Ffirth in my old comic books. The only way to guarantee my safety was to protect Red. So, at dusk, I volunteered to crawl over the last line of dunes and sneak into the prisoner’s camp.

  I crawled on my belly through the cool sand, pulling with my elbows and forearms and pushing with my feet. I stayed low, half crawling and half digging a shallow ditch to the makeshift camp in front of me; bits of sand spilled into my mouth. The camp was only a short distance from the dunes, and only one man stayed awake to keep watch. The man sat near his sleeping comrades. And the two captives were still face down where they were earlier in the day.

  The plan, Red told me, was to silently crawl until I reached the two prisoners. I was to tell them I was with Red and cut the braided sea grass around their wrists with a sharp shard of rock that we pulled from the rocky cliff. The plan was to retrieve the men and crawl to safety without the other prisoners knowing. We would walk all night away from the camp. And the captors would know nothing until the morning. That was the plan.

  CHAPTER 30

  5065

  NEW ALCATRAZ

  DAY 6

  I held a sharp chunk of rock in my hand so tight that it began to cut into my palm. Tiny droplets of blood dripped out of my hand and into the white sand. I pushed myself up into a seated position with my back against one of the makeshift walls; the night watchman was only two meters away from me and only crosshatched foliage woven between pieces of driftwood separated the two of us. The moans of the two bound men sounded over the crashing waves on the beach as they lay in the open near the ocean.

  I slid along the shelter wall until I reached the corner. As best as I could see, the night watchman sat facing the ocean, with the two men lying just inside of his peripheral vision. I peeked around the wall and then quickly ducked back. I did this several times, each time taking a mental note of the guard.

  The man sat with his back against a large rock jutting out of the beach. From the looks of his tattered and faded jumpsuit, he had been in temporal prison longer than most. At least longer than the survival experts projected for the average survival time.

  His shoes were off, and the legs of his jumpsuit rolled up to the middle of his shin. He sat with his arms crossed and his head slightly tilted down and to the right. His hair was dark with glints of silver. It was shoulder length and twisted into thick clumps. It was too dark to see if he was sleeping, but even if he was, I could not risk him waking up while I untied the captives. I had no choice but to do something. To subdue or distract him.

  I dug my hands deep into the sand. I found a short chunk of driftwood buried wrist deep in the sand. Gripping the wood, I tossed it past the man. The chunk of dried wood made a muddled thud on the beach near the man, but he barely reacted. After several seconds the man let out a moan and glanced in the direction of the sound.

  My muscles tensed, and my hand gripped the sharp piece of rock. Trying to figure out if the noise was real or imagined, the man stared into the darkness. In the time that the guard was turned, I would have to reach the two men, untie them both, convince them to come with me, and make it back to the sand dunes. The three of us could not simply duck back behind the shelter. Once the man turned back around, he would see that his two captives were gone. The four of us would have a very minimal head start. The plan was flawed from the start.

  The man shifted his weight and pushed himself out of his seated position, stretching and grunting as he shook his legs to wake them up. Too late to do anything about it, I realized he was asleep. The man’s mouth opened wide and a long yawn escaped. He looked towards the noise and squinted his eyes as he reached back with his hand and rubbed the back of his neck.

  I waited for the man to turn completely. He looked back and forth. First at the men who were tied up, and then towards the noise. I readied myself to scurry towards the men. He kept glancing, first at the men, and then at the darkness where the driftwood fell. Then he turned his shoulders the slightest bit towards the darkness to investigate the noise.

  In that split second, I left the safety of my cover. Then, as if another noise called his attention in my direction, the man jerked to face the shelter. I ducked back behind the wall, and through the slatted branches I saw the figure moving toward me. He walked past the men who were ti
ed up. He approached the shelter purposefully.

  I gripped the rock in my hand. The tiny droplets of blood from my hand puddled in the sand at my feet. The man’s bare foot peeked around the wall; his knee and leg followed. In another instance, he came around to face me.

  Almost naturally, I sprung from my crouched position; with my free hand I covered his mouth, and drove the sharp rock into his throat. He let out a shocked grunt, and we both fell to the sand in a muffled thud. My weight drove the rock further into the guard’s throat, as he grabbed at my clothing and tried his best to kick me off.

  I dragged the rock from one side of his throat to the other, opening the skin. The man coughed and chocked on his dark blood. The crimson liquid pooled underneath both of us, spurting upwards into my face and covering my arms in the slimy liquid.

  The man’s kicks turned to slight twitches, and then he became a lifeless body. I was frozen, waiting for the other men to wake up and come after me, and then I scurried back behind the wall. My chest silently heaved up and down as I waited for the other men to wake up, but all I heard were the waves crashing on the shore.

  I shuffled out again and crawled towards the two captured men. Sensing me approach they breathed frantically and crawled away from me. I placed a hand on each one; their spines poked through their jumpsuits, and I tried to quiet them. The shorter man fell and rolled to his side. He stared up at me in fear and confusion. His eyes squinted and his brow wrinkled. I wondered if he was trying to make sense of who I was and why I was there.

  CHAPTER 31

  5065

  NEW ALCATRAZ

  DAY 6

  I whispered, “I am with Red, and I am here to get you out.” They still shook and moved away from me. The shorter man let out muffled cries through his gagged mouth. Their wrists were bound behind their backs and their ankles tied together with braided strands of grass. Their wrist and feet restraints were tied together, limiting any hope for movement. My rock! My impromptu murder weapon. It was gone. Dropped in the sand perhaps?