Terminal Connection

by Needles, Dan

  “It’s okay,” his assistant coach said while righting the robot. “It was our throwin anyway. We didn’t get penalized.” Hollyfield, another player, came running off the field.

  “A Goddamn hooligan!”

  The assistant coach put an arm around the robot. “Mike, it’ll get better. He grows on you, you know?”

  “Yeah, like jock itch.”

  The game continued. Six minutes later, Francil scored another goal, again parading around the coliseum. After the starting kick a Chilean player kicked the ball toward Francil. He jumped and knocked it down with his arm. The referee blew his whistle and went after the ball. Francil reached it first and hid it behind his back as the referee approached.

  Exasperated, the official yelled, “Get up!”

  Francil put the ball down and sat on it. The crowd booed as another referee trotted across the field and Francil took off a cleat and shook dirt from it. The referees motioned Coach Burns onto the field. He walked to Francil as the fans jeered.

  “This is just great, Mr. Alvarez.”

  “I hate this country,” Francil said.

  “I’m sure the feeling is mutual.”

  “It’s not fair. I didn’t touch the ball.”

  “Look, at this point I don’t care and neither do the officials. You’ve already managed to destroy any chance of returning to this game. Now it’s a choice between the sidelines or a Chilean jail.” The coach pointed to the security on the sidelines.

  “They can’t do that!”

  “Yes they can. This isn’t the U.S. of A. Here they take soccer very seriously.”

  “What right do they have?”

  “What right? It’s their country! They can do and will do anything they damn well want, you arrogant bastard! We’re just guests here!” The coach walked away. He stopped and faced Francil one last time. “By the way, have you ever seen the inside of a Chilean prison?”

  Slowly, Francil stirred and got to his feet. He lumbered a few feet behind the coach, following him to the sidelines.

  “Damn kid!” The coach muttered.

  Another official sprinted toward the coach from the Chilean side of the field.

  Oh great! Another confrontation. “Mr. Alvarez.”

  Francil said nothing.

  “Francil!”

  “What!” He jogged up and walked next to the coach.

  “Do you see that?” The coach pointed to the approaching official. “He’s probably part of the security detail. If you don’t hurry up …”

  “I don’t see anything, Coach.”

  The coach stopped and waggled a finger at Francil. “Don’t try to mess with me boy! You’re in enough hot water as it is!”

  “Really, I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about!”

  The coach turned and watched the figure approach. Now that was odd, he thought. The coach watched the figure pass through one of the players on the field. The figure must be in VR, transposed on top of the images being sent to him from the robot on the soccer field. Obviously, someone had invaded his virtualscape.

  “Damn it!” He swore. He was supposed to be alone! Obviously, someone had broken into the Apostle Company’s VR server. “Probably another fan. And the worst kind of fan at that—a hacker!” The coach grumbled.

  “What, Coach?”

  The coach ignored Francil. He could now see the dark figure clearly and was surprised. It was a very attractive woman.

  The coach walked and Francil followed alongside. The figure approached the coach. “What may I help you with, Ms.?” The coach said, never breaking stride.

  “What’d you say?” Francil asked.

  “Cool your jets, Mr. Alvarez. I have a fan here with me in VR.”

  The woman said nothing. She walked beside him and stared. Freak! The coach kept his gaze forward. She moved in front of him and walked backwards. He looked down.

  She stooped and tried to catch his gaze. Great! A persistent freak. He stopped and met her gaze. “What?”

  Her gaze did not waver. “Look ma’am. I’m in the middle of a game right now.”

  She said nothing; she just continued to stare at him. It felt wrong. Her gaze was cold and detached.

  His gaze dropped to the ground. Enough of this! Stepping forward, he brushed past her. He kept his eyes on the ground in front of him. The crowd roared. He glanced over at Francil. What was he doing now?

  His feet struck sand and he tripped and fell. He rolled and looked back. A portal closed behind him. The crowd was not yelling; it was the sound of the ocean he heard.

  He got up and dusted himself off. The coach was on a beach. A refreshing mist washed over him. Where was she? He looked around. She was nowhere to be found. He was on a white sand beach that stretched for miles in both directions. Just off shore, two dark rocks towered above him. Framed between them was the setting sun.

  “Where the hell am I?” He said aloud.

  “Tianya Haijiao, the southern tip of Hainan Island. It means edge of the heavens, corner of the seas.”

  He whirled around and saw the woman had reappeared. She had striped her clothes off, revealing her beautiful full figure. Her gaze softened. Embarrassed, the coach dropped his gaze. “Look ma’am, it’s not that I don’t like you. Believe me, I’ll like you a lot more in a couple of hours after this game is done, but I have to get back there.”

  Mike pressed the portal button. Nothing happened. “Damn it! What’s wrong now?” He could feel a headache coming on. It was turning out to be a bad day.

  “Ma’am …”

  “Call me Syzygy.”

  He looked at her. “That’s an unusual name.” God, she was gorgeous.

  She shrugged and approached him again. “So, do you like this place? It’s a place of rebirth. Many rebellions were born here: the communists a century ago and the Chinese liberation last year.”

  “Ma’am, that’s all real nice, but I need to get back to the game. I’m remotely controlling a robot on the soccer field, and right now I can’t see or feel where I am or what I’m doing. This is a potentially dangerous situation. What if I accidentally walk into the stands? This robot can apply over a thousand pounds of force.”

  Syzygy was next to him now and placed a seductive hand on his shoulder. He shrugged it off. She obviously did not buy his argument. His robot was in the middle of a soccer field, not exactly a danger to anyone except Francil. And she probably already knew about Francil; not much of a loss. The coach rubbed his temples as the headache intensified.

  Burns thought hard. Maybe he could exit, reenter VR, and portal to the game? The coach pressed the exit button. Again, nothing happened. He was really starting to worry. The robot was on the field and that would delay the game only until the officials could remove it. At most, that bought him a few minutes and those minutes were almost up. He needed to be there; he needed to lead his team.

  His head really hurt. He pounded the exit and portal button to no avail. It struck him that Syzygy had effectively kidnapped him. Kidnapped by a crazed fan. He shuddered involuntarily. But what could she possible do to him?

  Francil noticed the coach was no longer near him. He turned and saw the robot had fallen over on the field. In an uncustomary show of camaraderie, he jogged back to help. Reaching down, he righted the robot.

  Abruptly, the robot swung, its solid steel arm striking him across the head. He stumbled back, holding the side of his head. It was wet. He pulled back his hand and found it covered with blood.

  Another wild arm struck him in the groin. Francil moaned and collapsed to the ground. The robot fell down again and convulsed. From the sidelines, the assistant coach and his teammates ran onto the field.

  “No! No!” the coach screamed as they approached.

  “Coach! Control yourself,” the assistant coach said.

  “Man, Francil looks bad,” another player added.

  Francil blacked out.

  35

  Cut!” Jamie said. The image of the Chinese carrier disa
ppeared as Jamie’s crew materialized, running about, digitally removing the virtual set. She glanced at her watch. It was 4:55 p.m., five minutes until the hour’s news.

  “Damn it!” she said.

  Hearing her remark, the cast members nearby hesitated only briefly before continuing with their work.

  She would not have enough time to sell the piece before 5:00 p.m. That pushed the airing of the clip out until 6:00 p.m. She hoped that the other freelancers would not beat her to the story, as trivial as it was. The Chinese constantly ran military exercises, and Jamie was but one among thousands of freelance reporters trying to cover the story. Every hour the networks would bid from their long list of reports. This was risky stuff. In this business, whoever got the story first would sell it exclusively to all the other stations. That meant several other freelancers, like her, would get nothing for their efforts.

  She had been unlucky over the last couple of months. She had a real shot with that Warscape report. Ed Davis and Shen Guofang were key interviews, but her daughter ripped out the best part and the network had rejected the story. “Not sexy enough” was the networks’ terse email reply. It was an expensive gamble that did not pay off.

  Despite the automation, it took an entire cast to make a report, and she competed with at least a dozen other reporters. Of course, even if she had landed the sale, the story would not have lasted the day or even the afternoon. VR news reports had the shelf life of lettuce. She shook her head.

  Jamie watched as her crew scrambled, removing virtual tools and clearing remnants of the set from the lobby. Why had she gotten into this business? As much as she would like to blame it on someone else, she knew she had entered of her own free will. She even knew at the time what it would be like, but she couldn’t help herself.

  The industry had seduced her along with thousands of other people, all for the same reason. Like everyone else, she dreamed of hitting it rich. It was the modern day gold rush and like the explosion of the World Wide Web at the turn of the millennium, it was open to anyone and everyone.

  When her husband died and the income disappeared, she latched onto the VR dream. A year later, she still searched for her big story. The Warscape story should have been it, but her daughter had fixed that.

  Jamie sighed. One day she would find something, some report or idea that had persistence. Such a story would transform her life and allow her to live in the manor she deserved. The promise of money was not the only reason she stayed in the game. An artist at heart, this was her calling. VR was the ultimate in creative expression. These were not inanimate sculptures or lifeless images on a flat screen or canvas. In here, she created new worlds, rich with emotion and human experiences. If she wanted to, she could create mountains of wealth, transform landscapes, and enable the viewer to walk in another person’s shoes—literally.

  Indeed, she had altered people’s perspectives, changed their minds, and evoked strong emotions ranging from euphoria to lust to rage. Yes, in here she was a deity, albeit a minor one. That is, if she could air her VR clips.

  She could not believe how her daughter had shut her down, robbing her of her big break. It wasn’t right. Her daughter was acting more secretive than usual. What was she hiding? Whatever it was, it screamed the words ‘breaking news.’ She had keys to her daughter’s apartment, and Allison was out of town at the moment. Perhaps she would visit, water her plants and such. Besides, Allison owed her.

  “Did you contact Davis?” Allison asked.

  Vinnie looked up and stared at his boss. This time she had insisted on meeting him at his home in San Ramon, but reality suited him just fine.

  Vinnie watched her closely. Why was she focused on Austin’s murder? No, Syzygy was a much greater threat. He shook his head in annoyance. He was not used to anyone meddling into one of his assignments—especially if that person was the Director of DARPA. What was her motivation?

  Turning his attention to more important things, Vinnie stared at his coffee mug. It had been a week since he could take the time to just grab a real cup of java. The VR coffee experience mirrored that of reality but Vinnie could tell the difference.

  Vinnie breathed in deeply and savored the subtle nuances: the thin steam rising from the cup, the warmth it generated, the rough texture where the mug was chipped. These minute details separated this experience from its virtual counterpart. Vinnie was in his element again.

  “Vinnie, answer me.”

  He frowned, watching her squirm. Something was definitely up. Her hands shook even as she smiled at him. What was she hiding? Vinnie decided to lie.

  “If you must know, Mr. Davis actually contacted me.”

  “What did he want?”

  He set down the mug and lit up a Marlboro. Taking a long drag, he leaned back and pretended to contemplate the question.

  “Vinnie!”

  “He said you weren’t worthy to lick the mud off my boots.”

  “What?”

  Vinnie suppressed a smile playing on his lips. “Oh, don’t worry. I defended you. I said, yes, you were!” He waited. Not even a chuckle. Instead, she fixed him with an icy stare.

  “Answer the question.”

  He laughed. “Really, he didn’t ask much and I didn’t say much.”

  “Let me be the judge of that. Now tell me. What did he say?”

  “He wanted to know how my work was going.”

  “So, what did you tell him?”

  “I told him there was nothing to worry about, or something vague but positive like that.”

  “What else?”

  “That’s it. He seemed to buy it and he went away.”

  Allison relaxed.

  “You worry too much.”

  “Well, what would you do in my position?” Allison asked, crossing her arms.

  “I’m not like you. I don’t get into those positions.” He put a hand to his mouth and made a puckering sound.

  “Knock it off,” Allison said.

  “The way I see it, there are young people who want to control the river and older people that want to be the river.”

  “And so you think I’m trying to control the river?”

  Vinnie nodded.

  “And I should become the river, like you. Is that it?”

  “No, people like me get smart. We swim to the side and watch the river go by.” He laughed. “Why don’t you tell me what this is all about?”

  “It’s not important. I gave you this assignment Wednesday. What have you been doing all this time?”

  “As you asked, I’ve been sitting on my butt watching Austin. That is, until you killed him. Now that he’s dead. There isn’t much to see.”

  “Did you find anything out watching the place? I expected more from you, Vinnie.”

  Vinnie took another drag. Her quick response surprised him. She did not flinch when he accused her of murder. He knew Davis would grill her for that. Something else scared her—something big.

  “Well, if you must know. I did find one curious thing.”

  “Oh, what’s that?”

  “Do you know Ron Fisher?”

  She nodded. “The Nexus CFO.”

  “He’s never been convicted of anything, but he was playing with the company’s numbers. Apparently, Ron is under a lot of financial pressure, yet his pocket book is not showing the strain. I think he was doing some covert business with Austin that may have not been on the level.”

  “What about the other victims? Did Ron know any of them?”

  Vinnie shook his head. “No, I haven’t found a connection.”

  “You just have a gut feeling then?”

  Vinnie shrugged. “Yeah.”

  She nodded, contemplating what he had said. A perplexed look came across her face.

  “How did you know that I killed Austin? The surveillance got cut off before I arrived there.”

  “Actually, at first I thought Steve killed Austin. I detained him and asked a few questions. He became upset when he learned you were DARPA’s dire
ctor.”

  She rose from her chair. “What? You idiot! You’ve blown my cover!”

  Ah ha. She did not want him talking to Ed or Steve, but she assigned him to watch Nexus Corp. Why? It clicked. Vinnie took another drag and snuffed out his Marlboro.

  “Ed Davis doesn’t know about this investigation or the defect, does he?” Vinnie took another drag.

  “Vinnie …”

  “Last year when I wrote that informational report on the Nexus, you didn’t claim it was a complete evaluation, did you?”

  “Just remember, I’m still your boss!” she yelled.

  Not for long. He locked his gaze with Allison’s. She had duped him.

  “Ed Davis never sent those emails to Austin; it was you. That’s why you had me watch the place. You wanted me to see them, so I would think Davis was in the loop. Somehow Austin found out about your charade, so you killed him.”

  “There are forces at work here you don’t understand!”

  Vinnie took a hard drag and exhaled. He removed his gun and set it on the coffee table.

  “Listen, Allison. I get the dirty work done for a lot of people, including Ed Davis. Do you think you’re my only project?”

  She glanced at his gun.

  Vinnie smiled. He pulled out a cloth, picked up the gun, and polished its slide.

  “I don’t care about Austin. I had my orders. If you hadn’t killed him, I would have; but Syzygy and the Nexus defect are another matter entirely. Either you tell Ed or I will. He’s going to find out one way or another anyway. It’d be better coming from you.”

  Resurrection

  “All our lauded technological progress—our very civilization—is like an axe in the hand of the pathological criminal.

  “[Our] problems cannot be solved at the same level of awareness that created them.”

  —Albert Einstein. Physicist, 1935.