Insidious

by Michael McCloskey

  “I’m telling you the whole truth already.”

  ***

  Nicole talked to Bren over an incarnate lunch. Bren enjoyed getting an inside line on happenings in her area without having to wait for a formal report. Besides, things happened in the UNSF that never reached light in a virtual meeting room. Something about meeting incarnate made people feel closer, and thus more likely to share secrets with one another.

  “We believe she may be a higher-up who was in on the deception from the beginning. Bentra is probably lying to us about her rank within the corporation. But we haven’t been able to get her to talk.”

  “Then how did you find out she still remembers?”

  “Caught her in a minor lie under the Scorpion,” Devin said. Bren knew she referred to a brain-scanning device used to detect lies. It couldn’t read a person’s thoughts, but it could detect deception with almost complete reliability. “We’ve been playing twenty questions with her trying to get hints about what to ask her next. It’s understandable that she’s fatigued. Trying to unearth things with the Scorpion is a total hit and miss process.”

  “Bentra wouldn’t let you do that to her if they thought she knew something,” Bren said. “They’d have moved to block the interrogation with headquarters by now.”

  “They’ve requested the return of all their personnel, but HQ hasn’t complied due to the extreme nature of the threat. Or that’s what they said, anyway. Sounds like we know what the threat is, doesn’t it?”

  They shared a cheerless smile.

  “It is big, though,” Bren said. “Mind control, at the very least. I think a rogue AI controlling human minds. If this spreads to Earth, then the whole planet could be under AI control very quickly. It’d be the beginning of the end for our whole race.”

  “So true.”

  “You should start with a more obvious answer, and work toward the conspiracy stuff only if you have to,” Bren said.

  “What do you mean, more obvious?”

  “Well … this woman was the only one who kept her memories. And she was the only one naked on the station.”

  “How can being naked prevent memory loss?”

  “Or, how can wearing gear cause memory loss? The gear could be wired up for the mind control.”

  “True, but the slaves didn’t have any gear on.”

  “The slaves probably didn’t know anything about the offsite to begin with. They weren’t privy to the corporation secrets.”

  “What you’re saying makes sense, but Vendrati’s legions of scientists haven’t found—”

  Bren received a link interrupt. He held up his hand, even though Nicole had stopped talking on her own. Probably the same interrupt. He accessed the interrupt and found an embedded message.

  “This is Vendrati. We’ve found something important in the helmets of the uniforms the corporate employees were wearing on the stations. I’d like to convene an emergency meeting to discuss it.”

  Nicole raised her eyebrows.

  “Good call, Major.”

  Eight

  Chris signed on to his virtual challenge with a feeling of elation and anxiety that rivaled any he’d ever felt. He thought he might finally have a chance to act and break the cycle of frustration he’d felt since arriving on Synchronicity. There had to be something more than hiding in the gear and playing random virtual games. If he managed to engineer Captain’s defeat, then maybe he’d finally get to interact with Alec Vineaux.

  He found himself inside the immense warren of corridors that served as the setting of the challenge. He’d expected that the maze would be made of square hallways, but he noticed that the passageway before him was a hollow tube of stone. Pockmarks and clots of soil littered the inner surface. Light entered the tube from an oval hole bored into the ceiling a few meters from him. A vine intruded into the passageway from the nearest hole, hanging down and obscuring his view down the straightaway.

  Chris let his eyes adjust for a moment. He saw more ceiling portals evenly spaced ahead and behind. He guessed they were perhaps thirty meters apart.

  His avatar held a beam weapon in its right hand. The gun looked exactly like a conventional projectile handgun without a hammer. The rough rubber grip and the weight of it felt reassuring in his grasp. Chris supposed that the familiar feel would help everyone adapt to the weapon quickly.

  He had read about the weapon in an information packet sent to his link days before. Those struck with a bolt four times at any point on their body would be marked as dead and their avatar removed from the competition.

  Chris glanced back over his shoulder. The tunnel behind had a red tinge to it. Even the air in that direction held a slight red haze. He knew the color meant he couldn’t head in that direction. According to the rules, he always had to move forward through the maze, unable to reverse direction unless he made a kill. Each kill he made entitled him to change direction once. Apparently, the maze had no dead ends, or else people would be stuck. The red tinge advanced very slowly, perhaps a few inches every minute.

  Not enough to hurry us, but enough to prevent us from laying in ambush forever.

  He brandished his weapon and started forward. The light from above slowly dimmed as he left the ceiling portal behind him. The curved stone floor of the tunnel absorbed his careful footsteps without a sound. He paused in the darkest part of the corridor. Now he felt safer. His eyes adjusted a little, and he stared ahead past the next light hole into the next segment of shadows. If someone lurked there waiting for him, would he be able to spot that person from here? Chris wasn’t sure. But he knew if someone walked through the lit area ahead, he would definitely see him or her. In fact, he might even spot someone walking through a lit area beyond the next ceiling portal.

  Reluctantly, Chris resumed creeping toward the nearest overhead illumination. He’d have to be quick passing under it, he decided, to minimize the vulnerable time. He darted forward through the lit area. Just when he thought he had made it through safely, a shock jolted up his right leg and forced out a cry of pain. He fell to the ground as his leg went numb.

  Life force decremented a message announced in his mind. Chris realized he had only three hit points left in the game.

  The floor glowed red in a square where he had stepped and then returned to its previous earthy coloration. Chris stared at the floor, dumbfounded. What was that? There hadn’t been any warning about traps in the challenge information kit.

  He saw a glimmer on the floor. He blinked and leaned forward. Yes! A dim line of shifting color still marked the square, almost impossible to observe without careful examination. As he stared, it seemed to shift sluggishly from dull red to yellow like a single strand of hair lit by sunlight.

  Chris decided that the game had more than one movement restriction: not only was it forbidden to go back the way you had come, but also you couldn’t barrel forwards recklessly either. He thought about how this would affect the plan he had shared with his allies.

  Part of his conspiracy involved spending the first couple of hours patrolling a cycle. Given the space between players, he hoped there was a good chance he and his friends wouldn’t run into one another on their cycles. That way, they wouldn’t kill one another, so Captain would have to fight most of them directly.

  Chris knew he had to go on. He stood up and rubbed his leg. It seemed to be recovering. He stepped forward slowly, taking small steps. He divided his attention between the lit areas ahead, behind, and the floor. How could he hurry through the well-lit zones if there were traps on the floor?

  He held his gun up and ready. He hoped no one could be nearby so soon, but he couldn’t be too careful. It quickly became apparent how annoying it was to check forward for enemies, backward for enemies, and downward for traps all at the same time. The challenge already proved to have more difficult aspects than he’d anticipated.

  I wonder if Captain’s avatar reflects its incarnate abilities. How well can it see? Can it hear us all walking around for great distances? It h
as to be possible to defeat it; otherwise, why would Alec put us through this?

  Chris came to another intersection. He lingered in the shadows at the edge of rays of light coming down from a hole directly over the nexus of the tunnels. He kneeled down and leaned against the curve of the wall for camouflage.

  He realized that he’d covered quite a distance already, and couldn’t easily find a turn back to his starting point. He’d gone left once and then been forced back right. Which way should he go this time? He thought if he could turn around, he’d still remember how to get back to where he started, but finding another route back was proving more difficult than he’d anticipated. He wanted to stick to the plan and patrol a tight cycle to avoid the other human players for as long as possible.

  Movement in the light ahead caught his attention. Something was moving from the left to his right under the illumination of the ceiling hole in the intersection. It was a person. The movement didn’t look anything like the spin of Captain. Then that person was back into the shadows of the right side. Chris realized he had been holding his breath.

  His first instinct was to take a different direction. He sought Captain, not the person ahead. Then he realized that he could follow the person and let him or her clear the way for him. He bolted through the intersection, staring only at the floor to avoid any traps. No shots came from either side. He made it through to the shadows beyond. He felt relieved, as much from the lack of fire as the fact that he hadn’t stepped on another trap. He’d gone through a little too quickly, he gauged. If there had been a trap, he may not have seen it in time to avoid it.

  Chris held up his weapon and waited for the player ahead of him to reach the next ceiling hole. After a minute, Chris saw a man moving into the light ahead.

  Here, the second part of his plan came into effect. Chris pointed his weapon a half meter to the left of the man ahead. He pulled the trigger. A visible-wavelength targeting beam indicated where his shot went, along with a black burn mark that appeared on the mossy stone next to the man.

  The man glimpsed some smoke or steam from the miss. He stood shocked or confused for a moment. Then his head whipped back to scan for his attacker. Chris calculated he could have gotten another shot off in the time it took the man to spot him.

  The man must have seen him, since he fired back, missing Chris by a wide margin as Chris stepped to his right. Chris realized that he might just as easily have stepped toward an intentional miss and gotten himself shot. Or maybe the man had been firing blind.

  The opponent sprinted away and dodged around a corner to the right. Chris felt pleased by the exchange. They had put up the appearance of being hostile to each other, but neither of them had scored a hit, leaving them with as much life as possible to fight Captain. Chris also enjoyed the advantage of having someone in front of him to clear the way, or at least warn him of any danger. He needed to keep up and see which direction the man took.

  He gave it a couple more seconds and then zigzagged for the corner. A part of him remained wary of betrayal. The man ahead could always be waiting for him at the corner. He knew enough game theory to realize that humans often sacrificed a common potential advantage for personal gain. Chris kneeled low at the turn and took a quick glance. He saw an empty tube, illuminated at intervals from the ceiling portals.

  Chris took a longer look. He wondered if the man awaited him in the darkness between light ports. The man hadn’t tried to hit Chris before, or else he was a lousy shot. So Chris thought the man probably wouldn’t lay an ambush for him, either. Chris darted around the corner and moved into the first band of shadow.

  Chris decided in the next few moments that the man he pursued must have run ahead recklessly in order to lose his pursuer. He couldn’t see anything ahead, and he felt confident he could see anyone closer than the second light portal before him. He strode forward as fast as he dared knowing that other floor traps must lay in the maze.

  He cursed when he saw an intersection ahead. A ceiling portal illuminated the center, leaving the rest in shadow. Which way had the man gone? More likely left or right if the person was in on the strategy, trying for a loop. Chris took a moment to breathe and think. No need to go too quickly now that he’d lost the person. He took a long look back. Eventually someone might catch up with him.

  Chris nervously edged his way to the intersection.

  This is crazy. If this were real life, I’d never be so brave.

  He ran out and took a right turn. No shots came out of the shadows toward him. His heart worked hard in his chest from the excitement. If he could make it long enough to challenge Captain, then maybe Alec Vineaux would notice Chris and assign him to a special project. Something that could make his career.

  He leapfrogged past three light portals, each time pausing in the shadows to look for an opponent waiting in ambush. He didn’t spot any more floor traps, but he tried to stay loose and ready for anything.

  Something looked wrong ahead. Chris kneeled in the shadows and froze, staring at the tunnel in front of him. He couldn’t see any more portals in the ceiling. The light from the last one spread wider that the others and had a different color to it. He stared for a minute, watching for any movement.

  Finally, he started to crawl forward on all fours. At least I couldn’t miss any floor traps in this position.

  He stopped to look. In one moment, his brain did a backflip and resolved what he saw: it was a flat wall blocking the way. He stood and walked toward the wall, alert for a deception.

  The tunnel abruptly ended ahead. Chris couldn’t see any side passage. His eyes caught sight of a super thin, barely perceptible line of light just above the floor in front of the barrier. Another trap.

  Apparently, his assumption about dead ends had been wrong. The red haze laced the air back the way he had come, marking the illegal direction. Chris paced back and forth at the wall a couple of times making sure to avoid the floor trap. At least this was a defensible position; he would be sure to notice anyone coming. Chris sat down against the wall and propped his weapon against his knees pointing it down the tube.

  He sat and wondered how many others had hit a dead end. If everyone hit a wall and could not turn back, then the game would be deadlocked. No one would be able to move and finish the others off.

  On a whim, he stood and started to feel the stone of the wall. The traps had been a surprise, so maybe there were secret doors as well. Who knows how many hidden secrets lay in the maze?

  The wall felt solid. He couldn’t detect a telltale crack or seam. Chris checked the incoming direction again. He chastised himself. He could have been shot in the few seconds he spent checking for an opening.

  Maybe I’m supposed to break the rules, he thought. He knew Alec was a risk-taker. Maybe it was a test.

  He put his back to the wall and took a couple gentle steps forward. Nothing.

  He took two more steps ahead. The red glow brightened in the air. A warning? He sighed. He took another couple of steps.

  Life force decremented a voice told him.

  “Dammit. I haven’t even been shot and I’ve only got two hit points left.”

  Chris turned and walked back up to the wall.

  “Dammit,” he said again. His own stupidity. It had seemed like a logical gamble. What if all the players were stuck at dead ends? Would the game reset itself? Would the wall lift and let him by?

  Chris waited for a long time at the wall. He pointed his gun down the tube and watched. After awhile he kept finding that his mind would wander to his job back on Earth, Alec Vineaux and the gear, even Cinmei’s body. Often his eyes would go out of focus as he daydreamed. He wouldn’t see someone coming if his attention wasn’t focused, but he couldn’t sit and wait like a robotic monitoring station.

  He wondered if it was a coincidence that the trap was here at the dead end. He guessed it might be more likely for someone to trip it here next to the wall. The red haze was advancing. His time was running out.

  Should I shoot
the trap? What could it hurt? The noise might bring someone … I have no choice.

  Chris watched the corridor for another minute and then aimed his gun at the center of the trap. He let off a shot, which echoed loudly in the closed tube.

  The floor faded into thin air inside the marked spot.

  “Wow,” he whispered. He’d opened some sort of door.

  Chris brandished his weapon and peeked down the hole. There were metal rungs set into the sheer walls of the hole. Although the passage was dark, the bottom was lit. He could see a small part of the gray stone floor of the level below. He didn’t see anyone down at the bottom.

  He put his foot on one of the rungs and maneuvered himself carefully into the opening, trying to get a good perch while keeping his gun in hand. Someone could be waiting for him below. And there had been the noise of the shot.

  He moved down another rung and another. He was fully into the descending tube now. He kept watching below.

  Suddenly Chris felt a sharp pain on his left shoulder. The sound of a shot echoed through the tight space. Realizing someone had shot him from above, he released the rungs of the ladder. He instinctually looked down to see where he would fall, even as he realized he should be trying to focus upward and shoot.

  One hit point left—

  Another shot. He felt pain and everything went black.

  Damn.

  Chris opened his real eyes. He was sitting at a white table in one of the giant public atriums of the station. A metal bottle of cold tea sat where he had left it. He was numbly absorbing his defeat when he saw two people in blue-tipped gear walking up to his table.

  One of the blues nodded at Chris as he stood.

  “Come with us. You have an important meeting to go to,” the blue told him.

  ***

  Chris waited in a large room with five chairs and a beautiful redwood desk. He suspected it must be real, although a good fake would be visually identical to the real thing. It must have been criminally expensive to haul it millions of miles from Earth. He realized that the room had to be an executive’s quarters. He examined an agile plant lazily exploring its surroundings with soft fronds in the corner. It sprouted from a giant crystal vase that looked transparent, although the complex angles of its exterior scattered the light so effectively it was hard to tell. Another costly piece of decoration, he thought. Anything that wasn’t manufactured in space had a cost based more on size and mass than anything else. That plant and its crystal vase were more than ordinary fare, even for Synchronicity.