Terminal Connection

by Needles, Dan

  She nodded, and the coughing subsided.

  The plane pulled up at a sharp angle, throwing her father against her, but the seat belt held. She grabbed the seat’s metal tubing while the plane climbed higher. The air pressure clogged her head, her stomach felt sick, and her ears refused to pop. She looked through the open rear door and saw Hainan Island below. The plane was nearly vertical.

  And then her father was tumbling past her. His arms flailed, and then his hands caught the loose end of a nylon strap at the rear-loading ramp. The strap went taut.

  Her father lay still, his head resting against the vertical floor. Allison traced the nylon strap; a single strand of the nylon webbing had caught the buckle on the other end. She released her seat belt and pushed off, falling on the netting along the wall, and climbed down to where the nylon strap was snagged.

  The plane veered left. The net sagged from her father’s weight. She looped her legs and arms through the netting and grabbed the strap with both hands. It tore free from the netting, but she caught it. Behind her father, a building exploded on Hainan Island.

  “I’ve got you.” Her arms already ached and tears streamed down her cheeks. Allison scanned the ramp. Metal inserts plugged the holes. Her father had no hand or footholds, and the netting on the wall was out of his reach. She looked down the strap to her father. Below his hands, the loose end of the strap whipped around from the turbulent blasts of air.

  “Climb!” she yelled.

  He bled from a gash above his eye. Was he knocked out?

  “Dad! Dad! Can you hear me?” The wind whisked her words away.

  Her father lay still.

  “I can’t hold on much longer!”

  He did not budge, but his knuckles were white. Her arms grew fatigued, and the strap slipped a little. Her father looked up and Allison saw resignation.

  She locked her gaze into his and yelled, “You told me to never give up on anything. Don’t you give up now, Dad, don’t you dare.”

  He began to climb, the strap cutting into her hands as he pulled. He climbed faster.

  “Slow down,” she yelled. He was too heavy. Her left arm cramped, her grip loosened, and several inches of strap slipped through, the dull edges cutting into her hands. Her father screamed as the strap slipped. She had never heard him scream. The pain disappeared as her strength returned, and Allison tightened her grip. The strap slowed and stopped.

  She looked down. Her hands were covered in blood, and only a few inches of strap remained. Her father had stopped.

  “I’ve got it!” she shouted.

  He pulled himself up. The strap became slick with her blood, but now she felt no pain. He inched his way up the strap, and now only a few feet separated him from the netting. She could almost touch him. Her left arm convulsed, and another inch slipped through her fingers. Her father locked his gaze into hers and he climbed faster, the strap ripping back and forth. Her left hand went numb and she willed it to clasp tighter as the last bit of strap slipped from her hands.

  Allison watched as her father tumbled down the loading ramp and fell through the gaping hole in the back of the plane. His eyes remained locked with hers, wide with fear and disbelief.

  She reached out. “No! No! Daddy, don’t leave me! Nooooooo!”

  He faded away, his flailing body shrinking until he was just an imperceptible dot lost in the backdrop of Hainan Island.

  The Incident

  “But we cannot live the afternoon of life according to the program of life’s morning. For what was great in the morning will be little in the evening, and what in the morning was true will at evening become a lie.”

  —Carl G. Jung, Stages of Life.

  3

  Tuesday, June 9, 2020

  Camille gazed at the ocean. Fifty feet offshore two pinnacles of rock jutted out of the water. Gnarled and encrusted with sea life, they appeared as two anguished fingers rending the deep blue shroud. Beyond the pillars, the sun touched the horizon as it was setting. It flushed the sky to a fiery red and tinged the white caps a faint crimson.

  The pillars’ shadows inched their way up the sandy beach and rested on each side of Camille. A light breeze swirled around her and the sultry air held her like a warm blanket. She turned to the stranger who had brought her there.

  “This place is so cool—uh—and beautiful,” she said. Could he tell she was only seventeen?

  In VR, she was not an awkward teenager, but a twenty-seven-year-old knockout. Camille glanced at the time fixed in the upper left corner of her vision: 3:12 p.m. Her mother would not be home for another two hours.

  The stranger spoke. “It’s called Tianya Haijiao, China’s southernmost beach. The words mean edge of the heavens, corner of the seas.”

  “Oh? Are you from here?” She smiled. His shell was Caucasian.

  He nodded. “Throughout time this beach has marked the limit of China’s reign, her boundary. For thousands of years the emperor exiled poets and officials to this tropical Siberia. Legend has it that these pillars represent two lost souls, their lives and dreams forgotten.”

  Camille did not hear his words, only his confidence. She ran her hands down her full figure. Dark hair and features framed her new face in mystique. Her dark, olive skin made it difficult to place her origin. She gazed into his eyes.

  The man leaned over and brushed his lips against hers.

  “Wait.” She pulled back. “I don’t even know your name.”

  His green eyes gleamed. “Syzygy.”

  “Siz-uh-what? She smirked. He’s a programmer. His alias reeked of techno-inbreeding. “Computer, identify who is using the alias siz-uh-gee.”

  The disembodied voice of the computer said, “I’m sorry, but there is no information on the alias Syzygy.”

  His gaze held her.

  Her mother’s dating alias had shut off the V-chip, and her body responded. Warmth ignited in her heart and she felt her face blush. She bit her lip. Hundreds of miles separated them. Their only connection was the chat room’s VR server. He could not track her down. At anytime she could exit with a press of a button inset on her left wrist.

  Syzygy peered deep into her eyes. Camille’s heart skipped a beat. He was cute. Medium-length black hair framed his distinguished features, and a five o’clock shadow highlighted his strong jaw line. His form was slender with broad shoulders, a typical V-shaped build. The breeze rippled his black, silk shirt like water across his torso. The shirt hinted at his muscular build. He looked perfect—too perfect.

  He leaned toward her, and she let him press his body against hers. He kissed her, and she pulled him closer, responding to his kiss. He pressed his hips against hers, and Camille’s heart and stomach fluttered. She ran her hands along his back and lifted his shirt.

  Syzygy touched her lips with a forefinger and traced a line down her neck to her shoulders. His other hand brushed her left nipple. Her knees buckled. The two bodies fell to the sand, her face growing warm.

  Camille ignored the simulation glitch.

  He slipped off her blouse, unfastened her bra, and kissed her left breast, then her right, awakening sensations throughout her body. They overwhelmed her like nothing she had ever felt before. Whoever he was, he was not her age—intense, mature. She was ready for him.

  He tugged at her pants and panties, and she kicked them free as he kissed her neck and shoulders and rolled on top of her. The warmth in her head exploded, and her vision narrowed. She heard the sound of rushing water.

  “Ouch!” Camille sat up, but he pushed her back down.

  “Stop it,” she cried. She kneed his groin, but he did not budge.

  “V-chip online!” she shouted.

  Syzygy’s body catapulted away from her, and Camille punched the exit button.

  Nothing happened.

  Her head hurt. Her ears rang. Syzygy paced around her.

  “Leave me alone!”

  She reached for her clothes, but he grabbed her wrist. The V-chip wasn’t working. Camille wrench
ed free and rolled to her feet. Syzygy lunged and caught her right ankle. She tripped and fell to one knee, and he let go.

  Camille got up, ran to the water, and dove in. Her nude body sliced through the waves, and she swam toward one of the pillars.

  His pants and shoes will slow him down.

  Camille glanced back and saw the beach was empty. She reached the pillar as the first stars appeared. The waves surged and dipped around her, and shadows danced on the water. She scanned the turbulent ocean. Camille rubbed her pounding temples. The Nexus had fail-safes. The pain was too much. She punched the exit button again. Nothing.

  Between two sets of waves, she saw a dark figure. The waves passed and the ocean dipped. A reef. Just a reef.

  Camille pressed the Portal button. No gateway appeared. She pounded the button. Nothing.

  Deep in the water, a shadow circled the pillar. Camille kicked off the pillar and swam toward the shore, but something grabbed her left ankle. She kicked with her right leg but failed to connect.

  He pulled her down, and she slipped beneath the surface. She kicked, struck him, and he let go. She broke to the surface and gasped. He grabbed both her legs. She screamed, gagged on seawater, and slipped beneath the waves. He dragged her down.

  Camille coughed, her lungs filling with seawater. She could still breathe. It was VR. Everything would be fine. None of this was real. Rods of pain shot through her head. “Computer, exit!”

  Nothing.

  Syzygy dragged her deeper. The water grew dark, and the cold numbed her limbs. Her heart pounded in her chest.

  “Computer, spear gun!”

  She felt it in her hands. Camille fumbled with the gun, pointed it down, and pulled the trigger. The spear slid into the darkness beneath her and she felt him release her. She stopped sinking.

  “Computer, light!”

  The water lit up twenty feet in all directions. Camille looked about. Syzygy was nowhere to be seen, but she sensed him.

  “Computer, exit,” Camille said. Nothing. Camille rubbed her temples. She looked up. She was deep, a hundred feet or more. She swam over and touched one of the rock pillars and barnacles cut into her palm.

  She looked up as a shadow passed above her. Syzygy swam down toward her, only fifteen feet away. She backed up against the pillar, pointed the spear gun up, and pulled the trigger.

  Click.

  The gun was empty.

  “Shit! Computer, reload,” she shouted.

  Syzygy grabbed the end of the gun and pushed her backward into the pillar. Barnacles and coral cut into her bare back. She pulled the trigger of the spear gun again. This time it fired.

  The spear ripped through the center of Syzygy’s chest, the water darkening with blood. He closed his eyes. She let go of the gun and it sank into the darkness. Camille rubbed her temples, lowered her head, and cried. Her head hurt so badly.

  Syzygy’s eyes snapped open. Camille didn’t move. A smile crept across his face. She tried to kick off the pillar, but Syzygy wrapped his arms around the pillar and pinned her against it. The blood-laced seawater tasted sour.

  “What the hell do you want from me?”

  Syzygy kissed her neck. “It’s almost time,” he whispered.

  “Computer, white shark.”

  Syzygy turned, and the shark that appeared bit Syzygy’s chest and ripped him off her. Camille pushed off the pillar and catapulted herself upward. The water became dark as she ascended, and below her, only a dark, red cloud remained in the lit area. She scrambled up the pillar, the coral biting into her hands. Finally, she breached the surface.

  Camille glanced around. It was too dark; she could not see the shore. She maneuvered around the pillar. If she could make it back, she could run to the edge of the simulation and contact the site’s admin.

  “It won’t be long,” he whispered.

  He slammed her face into the pillar and spun her around, pinning her.

  “Why?” Camille cried.

  He kissed her neck. “The pillars are lost souls, sacrificed for the good of China. You will join them.”

  She struggled against him, but he was too strong. Sharp rods of pain pierced her head, and she was tired. Camille closed her eyes and cried out.

  Syzygy, the pillar, and the ocean faded to black. She felt warm again, her lungs no longer felt heavy with seawater.

  “Honey?” It was the voice of her father.

  Her vision came into focus, and a tunnel materialized before her. A bright light came from its distant end. Her father stood between her and the light, his long shadow stretched out across her.

  “What are you doing here?” Her father had died in the war with China.

  “Don’t worry, Cammy. Everything will be fine.” He walked toward her.

  “Oh, god. I’m dying! How? I’m in VR!”

  Her father hugged her. “This place is like VR, but safer, more pleasant.”

  Back in reality, Camille’s body convulsed. The signal from the Nexus had become too strong, and an electro-chemical storm raged in a localized area of her brain. Neurons fired uncontrollably and spread to other areas. Within seconds, the storm enveloped her medulla and traveled down the brainstem, the regions responsible for breathing and heart rate. Her heart stopped. She ceased convulsing. Her body went limp.

  The Investigation

  “The more people will know, the less they will love and care for each other. Hatred will be so great between them that they will care more for their gadgets than for their relatives. Man will trust his gadgets more than his … neighbor.”

  —Mitar Tarabich, illiterate peasant, 1871

  4

  Wednesday, June 10, 2020

  Steve stormed into his home office, a newspaper clenched in his hand, and hit the light switch. The room remained suspended in a sort of twilight. “That’s par for the course,” he muttered.

  He strode into the room. Piles of books and papers covered every inch of his desk. Where was the stupid scanner? He swiped an arm across the corner of the desk. One of the piles crashed to the floor revealing the scanner, and Steve yanked open its lid.

  The image reflected off the glass made him hesitate. A thirty-six-year-old man of average build and height with wild, brown eyes and brown hair streaked prematurely gray stared back at him. He looked manic and out of control.

  How did I get into this mess? He stuffed the newspaper in, slammed the lid, and jabbed the scan button. A whirling noise erupted, and light escaped from around the scanner’s edges as it digitized the article and downloaded it to his company’s VR server. He stepped over the jumble of papers and books, now on the floor, and sat down behind the desk.

  Steve ripped open a drawer and grabbed his Nexus, a black plastic object the size and shape of a cell phone. The front of the Nexus displayed the time: 8:30 a.m. PST. Steve flipped it over and entered his password into the numeric pad, and the Nexus responded with a soft click and popped open. It unfolded like a fan and expanded into what looked like a baseball cap without the bill. The hard plastic formed the front part of the headgear while a complex matrix of sensors hidden beneath a thin veneer of fabric made up the rest. Next to him, the scanner went silent and the escaping light winked out.

  Steve plugged a phone-like cable into the Nexus’ port below its numeric pad and put on the headgear. He ran his hand along the Nexus’ surface, and finding the online switch, he flipped it on. A hum broke the silence of the room, and the machine ground through its startup sequence.

  A black, weightless, silence enveloped him, and his body went limp. Though he did not feel it, he sank into the chair. The Nexus spoke directly to his brain through controlled electrical impulses. It bypassed his senses and muscles altogether and stimulated the areas responsible for perception, speech, and muscle control, while it triggered the paralysis experienced during sleep.

  Across the Internet, the Nexus connected with his company’s VR Server in the Netherlands. The sensations came—sights, sounds, and smells, not of his home office, but of
a place that did not exist, a place manufactured by the VR server. The Nexus hijacked his mind and transported him across a complex lattice of copper wire, fiber optics, and satellite links to the virtual lobby of Nexus Corporation.

  “Computer, retrieve the last scanned object,” Steve said. A copy of the news article materialized in his hand. He clenched it and waited as the sights, sounds, and smells of the Nexus lobby faded in. His jaw dropped.

  Profane phrases and icons covered the lobby’s cathedral walls and expansive floor. Some hacker had broken in during the night and edited the building’s file. “Shit!” he muttered, running a hand through his hair.

  “My friend, I’m glad you’re here.”

  Steve spun around. It was Ron.

  “The bastards kept adding this stuff until the VR server had no more disk space.”

  Ron Fisher, his company’s Chief Financial Officer, had a runner’s build, tall and sinewy with short blond hair. His clear blue eyes were animated, and his gaze darted around the room. Next to Ron stood the man Steve was looking for.

  Austin Wheeler was a stocky, eccentric, old salesman type with a southern drawl and a strong need for control. At over six feet tall, Austin’s muscular countenance and intense blue eyes often put Steve ill at ease, but not today.

  Brooke’s cries had awoken Steve this morning when she read the article he now held. Life had not been fair to his little girl. The memory of her tear-streaked face ignited his anger. He flung the back page of the Internet Times at Austin. “Did you see this?”

  Austin caught the paper and glanced at the article.

  Teenager Dies Using Nexus Transporter

  Camille Anderson was found dead at approximately 4 p.m. at her residence in Carlsbad, California. Authorities speculate that Anderson suffered an atypical seizure. An autopsy will be performed to confirm the cause of death. Upon entering the house, the victim’s mother, Dr. Ashley Anderson, immediately discovered her seventeen-year-old daughter, dead and still logged onto a Nexus Transporter. Authorities ...