After a few seconds, the hallway door opened, and the two men dragged the woman out of the room. Jessie leaned forward and saw that there was a gurney waiting. A third set of hands reached over and helped her onto it. Not a single word had been uttered; the procession was as silent as a funeral.
The gurney began to roll off down the hall.
“Would you mind shutting that?” the new guy asked.
Jessie stepped over. Before the door shut, she saw another woman dressed in white pushing an equipment cart after the gurney. There was a boxy instrument on top. Jessie had seen a machine just like it only a few days before. It was a conscription machine, just like the one they’d used to reanimate Micah.
‡ ‡ ‡
Chapter 11
“Um, why exactly are we seeing you?” the attendant asked her as he ushered her into the room.
Jessie glanced up from the computer tablet he was scanning, and frowned. After what she’d just witnessed, she couldn’t keep herself from imagining the worst. Her heart was racing and she was sweating, despite the air conditioning. What would they think when they saw the replacement implant the Coalition had put in? What would they do when they found out her body had rejected it?
“The federal inoculation initiative?” she answered, her voice shaking. “I missed my implant screening at school.”
The man raised his eyebrows in surprise. “And they sent you here, to this room?” He shrugged and stood up, setting the tablet to one side and gesturing for her to sit on the stainless steel examination table. “Strange.”
There was only one other instrument in the room with them, but Jessie couldn’t tell what it was for. She tried to focus on her breathing, on calming her nerves.
The man — his badge said his name was Thomas — gave her a perplexed smile. He picked up the tablet again and swiped the screen. “There’s a note here to check your implant’s firmware. Know anything about that?”
Jessie tried to swallow, but her mouth was completely dry. She shook her head, but all she could think about was the woman they’d seen before her.
“Well,” Thomas said, shrugging, “I guess I’ll run some diagnostics. They sometimes call in random individuals for quality control purposes, make sure the control program hasn’t been corrupted. If everything checks out, then I guess you should be good to go. I’ll send a note up to Records confirming the implant so you don’t have to come back.”
“So, this isn’t because of the school screenings?”
The clerk sniffed and shrugged. “We don’t do routine verifications in this office.”
“What do you do here?” she asked. “In this office.”
“We’re supposed to deal exclusively with devices that have been corrupted, but lately they’ve been handing us some of the overflow. We’ve been swamped.”
“Because of the network problems?”
Thomas frowned at her. Before she could say anything else, he excused himself and exited through a second doorway. Jessie cursed silently. She knew better than to mention the rumors here! Citizen Registration employees were supposed to work for the state, but many of them were subcontractors loyal to Arc.
Thomas returned a few minutes later carrying a handheld implant scanner. He seemed to be back to his personable self.
“Just collecting your baseline, Miss Daniels.” He gave her a strained smile, then reached behind her head and passed the instrument over her neck, nodding when it beeped. Next, he repeated the sweeping gesture, except this time holding the scanner close to the tablet to transfer the information.
Jessie kept silent. She wanted to ask what would happen if they thought there was evidence of corruption, but she knew that appearing too curious would look suspicious. It was better just to keep quiet.
“Your vitals look good— blood pressure, heart rate, temperature.”
“You got all that?” She frowned in surprise.
“I know,” Thomas said, misinterpreting her confusion. “People ask me about that all the time. They think that the implants are completely inactive. I mean, that’s what the ‘latent’ in ‘latent individualized neural connection’ means, right? They don’t stop and think about how the devices are supposed to be monitoring their vitality. How else would they know if you’re dead?” He chuckled and added, smiling wryly, “By the way, you’re alive.”
Jessie continued to stare at him, still trying to understand.
“Is everything alright?” he asked her. “You look surprised.”
She blinked. “It’s just . . . . I guess I’m still learning about what they do, how they work,” she lied. “I just had it replaced a few weeks ago.”
Thomas shook his head. “Not according to my records. Same implant identifier code. Looks like an older model number. Says here the device was inserted—” He swept a finger across the screen, tapped. “Looks like you’ve had it since you were three?”
Jessie reached behind her neck and frowned. The incision was a month old and the scab had fallen off, but the scar there was still fresh.
“Oh, wait,” Thomas said, nodding. He read some information on a new screen when it came up, his lips moving silently, before nodding. “Looks like there was an order to upgrade the device at New York Medical Center after an accident? Never heard of this model, though.”
“New materials,” she told him. “That’s what the doctor told me.”
“That would make sense. Better biocompatibility, but . . . . Hmm. It says they tried but couldn’t replace it.”
“What?”
He tapped the screen, read, tapped again. “There’s only a medical code listed here, but I don’t recognize it and it’s not cross-referencing with anything.” He looked up at her, a strange look on his face.
“So, can I go?”
“I just need the boss to take a quick look.” He stood up again and left her alone in the cold, too-bright room.
Jessie tried to relax. It’s going to be fine, she told herself. So why was her heart racing like crazy?
The door opened several minutes later and Thomas returned. “I need to run a couple tests. May I have your Link communication device, please?” He was all business now as he extended his hand toward Jessie, palm up.
Jessie pulled it out of her pocket and handed it over. “What’s wrong?”
He didn’t answer, just pulled the machine closer and inserted Jessie’s Link into a slot on the side. The instrument instantly whirred to life. A screen flickered from black to white to green. When it beeped a series of rapid pulses, he tapped a button on the menu.
“Lie down. On your back. Feet to my left, please.”
“I thought I was finished.”
“Please, just follow the instructions.”
“But—”
“I don’t want to have to call for restraints.”
Jessie did as she asked, suddenly aware of the camera mounted in the corner of the ceiling. Restraints? Her mind was screaming at her to run, but to where? She’d never get out of the building.
Thomas turned to his right and pulled the machine against the side of the bed, positioning it close to Jessie’s head.
“What’s that?”
“Continuity scanner,” he replied.
Jessie was surprised that he even bothered to respond. She could hear the quiet beeps of Thomas tapping on the screen.
“It’s a simple test to measure signal receptivity across the stream spectrum,” he told her. Then, dropping his voice to a whisper, he added, “Just relax. You’ll be fine.”
He extracted a set of electrodes from a compartment on the side of the instrument and unfurled them, inserting one end of each into the matching ports on the front. At the other end, the cables were attached to a plastic band. “Lift,” he said, and then fit the band around Jessie’s head just above her ears. “Turn onto your right side.”
Jessie felt a splash of coldness on her neck. She heard the sound of tape being stripped from a roll. Thomas was sticking something to her neck at the site of h
er implant scar. “Okay, on your back again.”
Jessie rolled back. She didn’t look at him. Instead, she made herself focus on a spot in the ceiling away from the camera.
“Done.”
“That was quick.”
He grunted. “That was just the set up. Checking skin conductance . . . . Good. Doctor Forrester will be right in.”
“Doctor? Is he— I mean, am I getting a new—?”
Thomas stopped her with a raised hand. “She is not a medical doctor. She’s an engineer. Just follow her instructions and it’ll all be over soon.”
The woman who walked in a few minutes later stared intensely at the machine. Her gaze shifted briefly to the tablet in her hands, which she then set on Jessie’s stomach. No greeting or introduction.
She leaned over and flipped a switch on the machine. Jessie expected it to hum or whine, but it didn’t make a sound. “Good Link-to-implant continuity,” she recited to herself. “Relax, please, Miss Daniels.”
“Missus,” Jessie said, nervously. She swallowed, cringing inwardly.
“Missus Daniels. I just need to confirm network patency. I’ll send your devices a simple instruction. You may feel a strange sensation, a fullness inside your head, maybe even a little dizziness. It’ll only last for a moment. Ready?”
Jessie nodded.
There was a click, then a sharp pain pierced Jessie’s skull, starting in the back of her head and shooting forward. She cried out and tried to sit up. But just as quickly, the pain faded.
“That hurt?”
“A little,” Jessie gasped, surprised that the engineer actually looked startled. “What the hell was that?”
The woman didn’t answer. She recorded something on the tablet.
The pain was completely gone, but it left behind a dull throbbing ache behind Jessie’s eyes, and there was that high-pitched buzzing sound in her ears again.
The engineer squinted at the screen on the machine. Finally, she reached over and adjusted something, then shook her head. She made another adjustment.
New worry began to bloom inside of Jessie.
Another tap and the buzzing vanished, much to Jessie’s relief. Only the throbbing remained. Doctor Forrester mumbled something under her breath.
“Is everything all right?” Jessie asked.
“You may sit up now.”
After she did, Doctor Forrester removed the headband and carefully peeled the tape off of Jessie’s neck.
“Both your implant and communication devices are functional. There’s good neuroleptic connectivity, and communication between them is actually better than one hundred percent efficiency. However, there are dead spots with both your implant and Link devices at certain frequencies along the stream spectrum. It doesn’t appear to be hardware related.”
“How can you tell?”
“The gaps match up between your devices, which suggests a programming issue rather than anything mechanical. I think this may be why the firmware diagnostic was requested.”
Jessie frowned. “But my Link works fine. I can ping out and receive pings—”
The engineer held up her hand to stop her. “The inter-Link communications frequencies aren’t affected. The gaps are concentrated in the secure streams, including the frequencies Arc monitors for implant activation and post-mortem control. Communication with your devices is fine, but when I attempt to send a command to modulate activity, I’m impeded.”
“Can the programming be fixed?”
The engineer looked perplexed. “Not the firmware. It’d be easier to replace the devices. There are some fixes we can try before we get to that, though, like realigning the receivers in each device, fine-tuning them.”
She shrugged. “If they’re out of sync, it’s the first I’ve ever heard of it. But it’s not impossible. Without a more thorough examination—” She checked the time on her Link. “Unfortunately, I don’t have time, as I have another appointment.”
She stood up, muttering, “When will people learn not to tamper?”
She replaced the cables and headband in the machine. “Arc is messing with their Stream protocols, so maybe they introduced a new bug in the signal sequencing. You may just happen to be the first we’ve seen.” She sighed. “I hope not, though, since that’ll mean another delay in achieving our inoculation goals.”
Jessie watched as she paced in a tight circle, tapping busily on her tablet and speaking more to herself. “I’m submitting a work order for an application update for both devices. If we’re talking about an alignment issue, then this should fix the problem. At the very least, it’ll get you up to date with the new standards.”
“When do I have to do that? Will I have to come back?”
“The update will initiate as soon as Arc processes the work order and inputs your device identifier codes into the system, which I just sent. Usually takes about ten minutes to clear. Once the alignment program starts, it’ll run in the background for a couple hours. Did you drive here?”
Jessie shook her head. “I rode the bus.”
“Perfect. I won’t have to keep you here then. I’ll let the front desk know. You’re free to leave. I advise you to go straight home, maybe even to bed, as you’ll likely experience periods of disorientation while the update installs and the stream frequencies realign. Once completed, you should receive a confirmatory ping.”
“And if it doesn’t work?”
“More tests maybe. Honestly, though, it’d be just as easy to replace your devices.”
She stepped toward the door. “Remember, no driving or operating heavy machinery for the next few hours, Miss Daniels.”
Jessie didn’t bother correcting her this time. She just wanted to get the hell out of there.
‡ ‡ ‡
Chapter 12
The soonest bus leaving Hartford for Greenwich wasn’t scheduled for another half hour. There was a three and a half hour gap, so if Jessie missed it, she wouldn’t get home until after six.
Her stomach hurt, less so from hunger than from stress, and her face and neck ached from clenching her jaw during the examination. She debated whether it was a good idea to eat something. Did she want to be caught on the bus with a touchy stomach? On the other hand, all she’d had was a few spoonfuls of cereal six hours ago. It wasn’t good to keep starving herself.
The expensive cafes nearby were beyond her financial reach, and, besides, she wasn’t dressed appropriately for them. She instead headed for the curbside kiosks. There was a ruckus down the street— a small group of protesters shouting and holding hands. As they marched past, Jessie could see that they were chanting angrily about the new federal mandates, though it was impossible to tell from the signs they were holding if they were anti-government or anti-implant. Several bystanders pretended not to notice. Others watched them cautiously, and one man muttered that they were shills hired by Arc.
One of the vendors emerged from the back of her cart and charged into the street, threatening that she was going to call the police, but an officer standing nearby didn’t seem all that interested in interfering.
Jessie’s link pinged. She recognized Arc’s familiar logo and quickly read the message:
<< STATUS UPDATE: NEW CLIENT FILE OPENED. INITIAL REVIEW COMPLETE. QUEUE POSITION ASSIGNMENT PENDING. >>
Does that mean the stream alignment’s started?
Her head didn’t feel any different. There wasn’t any of the buzzing or the throbbing.
“Can I help you?”
She realized she’d stopped in front of a fruit cart. A middle-aged man with a fat nose and thick cheeks was smiling at her. He wiped away a bead of sweat with a bandana, and asked, “Are you going to buy anything?”
Jessie stammered for a moment, aware of the growing line of people behind her, and chose a small apple. Swallowing her resentment for the five dollars it was going to cost her, she paid for it, mumbling, “Thank you,” and hurried away.
There was a small shady spot near the bus stop. The scraggly
grass was trampled down and dry. Bits of plastic litter were scattered about. Some of it appeared to be several days old, and she wondered why the sanitation CUs hadn’t picked it up. They usually did the downtown areas nightly.
Another ping, another message:
<< STATUS UPDATE: QUEUE POSITION #34. MATCH ASSIGNMENT REVIEW. >>
She had no idea what any of it meant, just hoped that it worked so she wouldn’t have to come back.
At last the bus came. She got on and sat down with a relieved sigh. It wasn’t until they started to pull away that she realized she’d left her uneaten apple at the base of the tree.
She kept waiting for the dizziness that the doctor had warned her about, but it didn’t come. She just felt tired, tired and weak. Leaning her head against the window, she let her body relax until it was like she was falling, slipping through the hard plastic seat, down through the bus and road and into the earth. Her eyelids grew heavy and her head drooped. She didn’t even notice when they entered the highway, although when a car honked at them, she looked up and saw the concrete and glass facades of the office buildings flashing past. The bus’s motion was like the gentle rocking of a boat.
The monotony of downtown Hartford soon gave way to the drabness of the suburbs. She was only dimly aware of this transition. The sun switched sides of the bus, first casting her in shadow, then bathing her with warmth. Still, she didn’t sleep. Her mind, though now free from the stress of the morning’s appointment, seemed unable to settle. It flitted from one place to another— places filled with images of empty rooms and dimly lit hallways and shadowy figures. Eventually, these daydreams took her to even darker realms.
She was in a room, dimly lit, its dimensions uncertain. Her mother was sprawled out on the floor. Jessie could see that her clothes were torn. Her bare arms were thin and pale. The whiteness of her naked shoulder seemed to glow in the pale light. Jessie thought of the ashen skin of the Undead. The strap of her mother’s worn bra was dirty and hung loose over her arm.
S.W. Tanpepper's GAMELAND: Season Two Omnibus (Episodes 9-11) Page 9