by Nick Thacker
The station, a full-room model that extended floor-to-ceiling and covered all four walls with only a door-sized space removed, was one of the most expensive-looking Rand had ever seen. Boasting a library of over 2.5 exabytes of information describing and related to human behavior, action/reaction scenarios, and a robust library of dialogue in the three main human languages, Rand was at first in geek heaven when he’d entered the room, then terrified at the sheer capacity of the machine.
The System began with one simple question: Are you a good man?
And with that, Rand’s mind was immediately set into motion. Should I answer affirmatively, because, well, obviously… or should I decline, maybe it’s a trick question?
Then he’d started thinking more like the programmer he was. Why would the System ask that question? How in the world would it be able to accurately assess, then confirm or deny the response? How could it translate his response into quantifiable data? Obviously the basic root of all languages allows for the binary quantified response, but how would it translate…
The computer whirred, then, a loud, piercing ding broke Rand’s train of thought.
“Mr. Rand,” the computer began speaking. “It is clear by your hestitation your response is one of only three options: ‘The first option is simple: No,’ in which case I will reveal the result of processing the reasons for that response at a later time. The second response you may be contemplating is that you do not have a response, in which case the inference from my data sources that suggest that you are of sound mind are false. My own calculations suggest that this response has less than a one percent chance of being accurate, which leads me to believe you are considering the final option: you are attempting to second-guess my reasoning for beginning our line of questioning in this manner.
Damn, Rand thought. Nailed it. He also couldn’t help but wonder why there was still a greater-than-zero-percent chance that he ‘was not of sound mind,’ but he didn’t let the thought distract him.
So this machine isn’t wasting time. Makes sense, since it probably has multiple-redundant parallel processing capacity that makes my brain’s speed seem like a snail.
“Mr. Rand,” the computer continued. Rand suddenly wished ‘they,’ or ‘the System,’ or whomever had built this station had spent just a little more money on the vocal processing effect. The station’s voice was mechanical and choppy, and far from the more traditional ‘emulator’ software that was easily available on the market. “I require a response. Are you a good man?”
“Yes,” he’d said. “I am a good man.”
“Thank you,” the station responded immediately. “Are you a computer programmer?”
“You know as well as I do that I —“
“Good, that will be enough. Thank you for your continued participation.”
Rand sighed. This is going to be a long day.
It wasn’t. Rand answered three more questions, all related to his previous line of work and future prospects as a developer, and he was released. The MAA had no ‘results,’ per se, at least none that were available to the public at large. An MAA was simply ordered for a future employee, a Deactivated, or a Reassigned, and the System spit out a simple answer: yes or no.
Rand’s result had been yes, so he was reassigned to Vericorp. But in the days that followed, he’d started researching a little more about these ‘MAAs’ that corporations used as a common measure of character, integrity, and work ethic.
What he’d found was counterintuitive: it wasn’t actually the hiring party — humans — that ordered each MAA. It was the System itself, operating independently of any predetermined metrics or needs, that ordered the MAA for an employee. He chewed on that for about a year, trying to fit everything together, and then made his move.
That move had led him here. Running, trying to get out of the city before full-on deactivation, trying to get to his contacts outside of Zone 6, and, of course, trying to figure out how to stop all of this.
The move had caused the largest wide-scale deactivation of any one inhabited area anyone had ever experienced.
And the move had told him what he’d needed to know. He’d been right, and as terrifying as that was, it gave him a clear next step.
Get out of the city.
MYERS
“HOW MUCH FARTHER?” MYERS SHOUTED. He hadn’t meant to shout, but he could feel his heart pounding through his chest, closing his throat as the last of his energy drained. They’d slowed to a jog, entirely for Myers’ sake, but the heaviness of his feet caused him to plod along slower every minute.
“That crowd up there,” Merrick said. The man didn’t even look sweaty, as if running through an entire city was just something he did for fun. Myers made a mental note to ask him about that later, if there was a ‘later.’
Myers saw the crowd. It was dense, people pushed up against one another like they had been in Zone 1. He could see the swell of movement, the herd mentality at work, pressing forward and keeping the mass moving in the same direction. For the first time, Myers also noticed their clothes. From behind them, he could see that the people had strikingly similar wardrobes. Dark gray and light gray were the two main colors he saw, with a few reds and yellows here and there in hats, scarves, and shoes. Every man who wasn’t wearing a hat had a similar haircut, parted on one side. Even the women seemed similar, each using a single piece of clothing to accessorize their otherwise drab appearance. Scarves, hats, shoes, belts. Whatever item they’d chosen, each had only chosen to wear one.
The city had a uniform. Or only one clothing store.
Everyone here at Zone 6, he now realized, looked exactly the same as those at Zone 1.
This time, however, something was different.
“Why aren’t they moving?” Myers asked.
“I don’t know,” Merrick said. They both looked, standing up and peering out over the mass of heads until Myers and Merrick saw the reason. “The gate’s closed. The barrier hasn’t been opened.”
They were standing at the back of the crowd of people, looking onward at the mass of people still pressing forward. The group of people was growing larger, too, Myers noticed. A few families and stragglers had walked by as they were standing there. He could see at least three more people coming to join them from side streets that bled out onto the main road. None of the people were yelling, and if they were talking to each other at all it was low enough that Myers couldn’t hear any of it. It was surreal, and Myers actually felt a strange peace about it. It was peaceful in the quiet solitude of the situation — a huge amount of people, all calm, collected, and focused on the gate. Strange for the same reasons.
No one near Myers spoke.
A few pops danced through the city blocks and landed in Myers’ ears. They’re still shooting at people, he thought. They’re firing at innocent men and women, trying to find us. Me.
This is my fault.
He still couldn’t figure out why they’d decided shooting innocent people was a solution to their problem of not knowing where Myers was.
He turned his attention back to the gate.
“Why would it be closed?”
Merrick shook his head. “No idea. It’s on a System timer, and only opened for emergencies.”
“You don’t think this counts as an emergency?”
“I do. The System doesn’t, though.”
There was another pop sound, but this one was closer. Too close. Myers turned around.
“Merrick.”
Merrick looked at him.
“We’ve got another problem.” Myers used his head to motion toward the street behind them. Two men, carrying rifles, were walking toward the crowd. The popping sound he’d heard was serendipitous, as it was from someone much farther away, but it had alerted Myers to the problem directly behind him. The Unders are here.
“They must have walked straight here,” Merrick said. “It won’t be the last of them, either. Come on.”
Merrick led Myers back around a corner. Another al
ley stretched before them, similar in style and width to the alley they’d run into when first entering the city. This time, instead of running the length of the alley to the end and stopping next to a door, Merrick only ran a few yards.
Merrick stopped, a full, abrupt stop that seemed inhumanly fast. Myers hit him, running full speed into his back and bouncing a few steps backward. Merrick didn’t budge.
“Wait here,” Merrick said. Myers caught his breath and together the men turned to watch the street. Merrick moved next to Myers and stopped at first, but after a few seconds started sliding slowly around Myers. In a moment he was in front of him, standing now between Myers and the street.
“What’s the plan?” Myers asked.
Merrick didn’t answer, so Myers asked again. “What’s the —“
Merrick shushed him. “Stop talking for a minute, Asher. There is no plan. You said it yourself, remember?”
“Wait,” Myers said. “You believe me about all of that?”
Merrick just nodded, continuing to watch the street. Myers couldn’t tell if the man was deep in thought or just ignoring the question. Or both.
The popping sounds of the guns turned into loud, direct raps. Myers knew they were close, and getting closer. Are we just going to stay here and wait for them? He immediately began analyzing the different scenarios and situations that might transpire. We could get caught, or worse — we could just get shot. We might make it out of here alive, but only get chased down by —
“Time to move,” Merrick said. “Let’s roll.”
Myers didn’t hesitate. Merrick was in charge, and no matter how insane he thought this all was, he wasn’t going to sabotage the plan and get them both killed.
Merrick ran into the street, his gun up and out, facing forward. Myers followed right behind him, ducking instinctively as he ran back out onto the asphalt road. He waited to be cut in half by rifle fire that didn’t come. “They must have passed us,” he said.
“They did,” Merrick responded. “That was their guns we just heard. They’re moving forward, into the crowd. We need to get behind them, and work our way to the gate to be ready when it opens.”
“Why not wait here?”
“I can’t contact him,” Merrick said quickly, as though he had anticipated the question. “We’re using terminals, so there’s really no way to fully encrypt the signal without a bunch of hacking. It’ll set an alert that’s easily intercepted, leading them right to our position.”
“Right, don’t do that,” Myers said. “So we get around them and head toward the closed gate. How do you know it’ll open?”
“I don’t.” Merrick was already walking down the street, staying close to the buildings as cover, and Myers was grateful at the slower pace. “It should have already been open, so I’m not sure what’s going on. I just want to be ready for the moment it does open.”
Myers followed close behind. “Okay. And if we see any more of these… Unders?”
“Run. Get behind something — not me — and wait until I give the —“
Merrick’s voice was cut short by the sound of automatic rifle fire behind them. Myers swiveled around toward the sound and saw another group of armed men storming up the street behind them. There were four in all, but it was the man on the far left that caught Myers’ eye.
Grouse.
He recognized the man’s smile — he really was smiling, and Myers was terrified. The blood drained from his face even as he started moving toward Merrick.
“Merrick! Get down!” Myers yelled as he started running toward the next alley that extended off the side of the road. He wasn’t sure if he’d be able to make it in time — the alley was a few paces away, and Merrick was still directly in front of him.
With a quick step, Merrick lunged out of the way and turned around in one smooth motion. He was facing the group and firing at one of them, but he yelled at Myers. “Get to the alley! Wait there!”
Myers did as he was told. He ducked into the alley as the bullets rained down on the concrete and brick walls of the buildings next to him. As he entered the alley and turned to watch Merrick face off against the group of four men, Myers’ brain was overwhelmed by another memory.
A shooting range. We’re here with the kids — Eve and Gwen — and Diane is here, too. Diane is beautiful, radiant. She’s young, too. Fiery and confident, but young. Much younger than I am. Myers felt her youth and their intimacy flare in that moment and it made him feel older. Somewhere in the distance, outside his memory, Merrick fired rounds at the advancing attackers.
We’re laughing, and the owner is there with us. It must be a range that we’ve been to before. We know the owner. Myers loved taking the family to the shooting range, but it was usually a once-a-year event. The girls never enjoyed shooting as a pastime, but he insisted on educating them and ensuring they knew their way around a firearm. There’s no one else here. It was during his presidency, and there was no one but the family and some Secret Service agents inside, with the owner and a staff member. Myers remembered remembering the memory, but it was like quicksand — the harder he tried, the harder it was to see the memory clearly. He couldn’t force his mind to remember something it had already agreed to forget.
But why was it still here, he wondered. Why can I still see parts of it?
The larger questions loomed above the simple snapshot of the memory as well: Why am I remembering this now? What is the significance of this? What is Merrick —
Merrick. He forced the memory away from the forefront of his thoughts and focused again on his partner in the middle of the road. He was holding his own, kneeling in the middle of the road, able to fire upon any single attacker that forfeited their position in the alleys that crisscrossed the street.
Myers knew that as long as Merrick could aim and shoot at each of them individually, he’d be able to hold them back. But if they —
Myers poked his head around the edge of the building and saw all four of the attackers run from their hiding spots in the alleys and charge Merrick’s position. Merrick, to his credit, didn’t jump. He fired three shots in rapid succession, taking down one of the men, then looked down at his rifle and started to reload.
He looked over at Myers, but didn’t have time to deliver instructions. The three remaining attackers hit him simultaneously and took him down. Instead of shooting, they used their guns to beat Merrick until he was unconscious.
RAND
“MERRICK!” RAND SHOUTED THROUGH THE chaos of a glob of people all vying for the same exit. The street was packed with people, and Rand immediately had second thoughts about his plan.
Everyone in sight turned to look at him. Oceans of gray stared back at him, accented by a few handfuls of feminine accessories like hats and scarves. The colors were garish compared to the backdrop of drab nothingness, and he almost laughed. Almost. It was, after all, the end of many of their lives, and therefore was nothing to laugh about.
They’d be left behind in the deactivation, he realized. He looked out over the swarming masses of families; men, women, and children, and knew that they’d be left behind.
This wasn’t the way it was supposed to be. The System never botched a deactivation. It never missed — it was a program. It couldn’t mess up.
There was no emotion, like a human. There was no reason, or at least none that resembled that of mammalian creatures.
Rand shouted again, knowing it would only call attention to himself. He felt the rush of energy and hormones that followed the realization that everyone in the area was starting at him, but ignored it. If he didn’t find Merrick, it was all for naught.
Myers Asher would die, these people would die, everyone would die.
He, probably, would die.
He yelled again, relieved that most of the people on the street had either tuned him out or realized that he wasn’t going to stop. They turned back toward the main event: the barrier was opening, allowing them to exit the city.
Rand tried to understand t
he turn of events that had led him here. He’d created the deactivation, that much was certain, but why hadn’t the gate opened on schedule?
Why had the gate, controlled by the System like every other facility and support mechanism of this place, not opened when the deactivation notice had sounded?
Rand had a feeling it had something to do with him. Never in his life had he experienced the deactivation of an entire city at once; he’d never seen anything, actually, like it. No one had. He’d never seen the mass exodus of people, all fleeing at the same time a home in which they’d lived for the past years. He’d never understood the why behind it all, but this was more than that. This was different.
This was his fault.
This time, the deactivation could have been avoided. Umutsuz was never going to be a massive tech-heavy and forward-thinking city, but it certainly deserved more than this. More than a city-wide deactivation.
This was something he’d done.
Rand couldn’t shake the feeling as he shouted out over the crowd another time. No one turned around, and that was his clue.
Merrick wasn’t here.
That was bad news.
Merrick was always where he’d needed him to be. Last month he’d asked him to maintain a nightly watch over Istanbul, since Rand had reason to believe the next Relic released would be someone of significance, and Merrick had come through. Already living in Istanbul, Merrick had expanded his daily and nightly search circumference to comply with Rand’s wishes.
When the Relic came, Rand almost didn’t believe it.
He’d been scraped, obviously. Merrick told him that, and it made sense.
But why would the System let him, of all people, out? Back into society, even as a Relic? That didn’t make sense.
The ‘things that didn’t make sense’ were starting to stack up, and Rand was growing more and more concerned that his plan, his dream, was slipping away from him.