Dechipped: The Download

by DeVere, Taya

  But nothing happens. Kaarina opens her eyes, staring at the unemployment center, sensing the AIs in their designated corners. “Well? Are we opening this can of worms or what?”

  Markus moves closer but remains a fair distance away. It’s clear to Kaarina the hacks aren’t his favorite thing either. Carefully, he speaks, She needs a keyboard and a screen. Right?

  “Why didn’t you just fucking say so…” Kaarina murmurs and swipes her hand twice through the air. The screen and the keyboard show up with the first try, but she’s too nervous to feel proud, smug, or surprised. She closes her eyes again. “Let’s get it done.”

  The murky sky, gray buildings, and seagulls on lamp posts all start spinning around her. The wind picks up, twisting around, changing direction aimlessly. She clenches her fists, feeling the sharpness of the gravel digging into her palms. Numbers, code, and commands flash rapidly on her closed eyelids. As if she has left her body, Kaarina watches Margaret work through her—this time without using Kaarina’s hands or the rest of her body. Her mind, focus, and thoughts are stretched and pulled around, making it hard for her to sit still and let it happen. The feeling of not even trying to stop such inner turmoil is overwhelming.

  “But… the keyboard.”

  You want. Me. To use. Your hands?

  Kaarina squeezes the gravel in her hands harder. She shakes her head no.

  Then focus. On. The gravel. It’ll help. You tolerate this. Better.

  Another shake of her head. Kaarina pushes her knuckles against the ground, focusing on the slightly painful feeling. Margaret slows down the hack for a few more seconds, then pushes forward with force. Kaarina’s eyes snap open.

  The door rattles violently.

  Green paint flutters down to the ground.

  Window boards come loose from their nailed corners.

  The ground begins to shake under her seat. It’s hard to focus on the gravel now. Kaarina grabs onto her right wrist with her left hand, trying to find her pulse to calm her nerves. The pulse is there, but it seems off somehow. Too slow for the state of mind she’s in. It reminds her that just like everything around her, her bodily functions are fake as well.

  Squeeze the base of your thumb instead, Markus’s calm voice echoes somewhere nearby. Squeeze, and think of a place where you once were safe. Where nothing and no one could harm you.

  She does what Markus tells her to do, just in time as the images start flickering in. This time, the sensations don’t shock Kaarina as much as they did at the health house. But the desperation and anxiety reach her the second the scene comes alive in front of her eyes.

  A drunken man, pointing a knife at a clerk.

  A mother of three, crying in the middle of the floor, holding her children’s hands. They’re dressed in clothes several sizes too small.

  A security guard escorting a teenage boy out of the building, holding him by the neck.

  Think of the barn, Markus says, calm in his voice. Of the horses you used to live with. Think of Ässä. Or Sanna’s bunny-rabbit.

  Her hands have started to shake uncontrollably. She releases the base of her thumb. “I…” Kaarina breathes out, trying to talk back to Markus but failing. “I can’t,” she finally breathes out. “Not while… Not with her.”

  But Margaret doesn’t stop. Her focus strictly on the slowly cracking door in front of them, she continues the hack while Kaarina holds onto the only thing now grounding her mind—Markus.

  That’s okay. It’s okay. I’ll do it for you.

  Images of a green park with a sandbox in the middle push through the green numbers and letters. The pain and anxiety radiating from the strangers in the unemployment center slowly subside. Soon, all Kaarina sees is two horses eating grass. Squirrels jumping from one tree branch to another. A white rabbit cleaning its ears in the morning mist. A robin calls out somewhere where the spruce trees meet the sky. A line of ants climbs onto Kaarina’s bare foot, tickling her skin pleasantly.

  Just a minute left, Kaarina, Markus’s voice booms from space. Just a minute, maybe two. You can do this. We can do this.

  The animals roam peacefully, filling Kaarina’s chest with a soothing sensation. With no people around, the park looks like a paradise. No trash on the fence, no graffiti on the walls of the jungle gym. No shouting. No nasty looks. No cursing or complaining about how the deer are about to eat every apple from the trees that surround the playground.

  No people.

  Just what was always supposed to be there. Meant to be there.

  Just as Kaarina takes a deep breath, lulling herself in the peace of this moment, the scenery starts to flicker and glitch. Holding her head with both hands, Kaarina watches the treeline crumbling down as the ones and zeros crash through the forest. Then, panicked, the animals flee the scene. Only the sandbox remains now, faintly glimmering in front of the unemployment center’s door. As the door falls off its hinges, hitting the ground with a thud, the last pixels of the park disappear—along with the peace surrounding it.

  I suppose. You wouldn’t want to. Go in. Again. Would you?

  ***

  Frozen solid, the people stare into space as Kaarina slowly circles them. Stepping over a brown bag from the local hamburger joint, she heads over to the man holding a knife. Carefully, unnecessarily holding her breath, Kaarina reaches for the knife and removes it from his hand. In front of the man, the office clerk still looks horrified, his arms raised to protect his face.

  It’ll drive. A person. Mad.

  Kaarina swallows, staring into the man’s ghostly eyes. “What will?”

  Feeling. Purposeless.

  The two AIs back in their corners, Kaarina has managed to calm her mind enough to investigate the second hack Margaret has successfully executed. One step closer to the Egg’s core, Kaarina wonders how many times she’ll need to give up control—and momentarily let go of her sanity—before she’ll get to Doctor Solomon.

  I still feel like it’d be better to ask Luna. You know, just go back to your room and open up the door. Or at least warn them about what’s to come.

  “No, Markus.” Kaarina rips her gaze away from the knife-man and continues to a window that separates the job seekers from the clerks. She slips through a gap between the wall and a jammed open metal gate, then continues to the staff side. “You still don’t get it. Luna’s not herself. And not just Luna—none of them are. Solomon’s turned them into her little mindless minions. Until we shut down Solomon, they will not see past their brainwashed minds.”

  You should give them a bit more credit.

  “Don’t tell…”

  Her what. She should. Do, Margaret ends Kaarina’s sentence. She’s not. Wrong. People can’t. Always. Be trusted. To see what’s. Good. For them.

  A breeze of frosty air reaches Kaarina’s face from an open window. She walks past a row of computer screens, all blank or showing a social media feed instead of job ads and applications.

  Not to be trusted? Markus’s voice shakes slightly, not with anger but worry. These are our friends you’re talking about. How about Sanna? Bill? We weren’t just friends or allies. We were a family. And just because you chose to give up on us, Margaret, doesn’t mean that Kaarina should do the same.

  Okay… Margaret pauses, agitated. Doesn’t mean. They’re not. Brainwashed.

  Sounds like you’re the one who’s been brainwashed to believe everyone in this world is out to get you! Maybe Luna would have a solution for us. One that didn’t end up killing yet another person. Did you ever consider that? Maybe Sanna could find a way to talk to her mother and make her see the wrong she’s done? Maybe…

  What? Maybe we. Should give. Solomon. Another chance?

  Markus falls quiet, clearly tossed around by some inner turmoil Kaarina doesn’t yet know about.

  Of course. You would. Let her off. The hook. You didn’t lose. The love of your. Life. Or your mother…

  I know what you’re going to say. Markus’s voice is harsher than Kaarina remembers ever hea
ring it. She’s just a cat, right?”

  They all stay quiet for a long time. Kaarina pushes away the urge to take away Markus’s pain. To tell him that though his cat actually is dead today, it was old age that killed the feline, not Doctor Solomon. She remembers his tales about Kasimir the cat well. Though Kaarina feels bad about Markus having to relive his pain because of the fake memory installed in his database, this absurd argument between the three of them has only made her more agitated. Flustered beyond belief.

  Margaret makes an uncomfortable movement. It’s not. My fault that. I’m a dog. Person.

  And did it ever occur to you that I might want to help Kaarina? That not everything in my world revolves around me?

  “Stop it,” Kaarina hisses at both of them. She hits the side of her head once. Twice. “Just stop it! It doesn’t matter what Solomon did or didn’t do! She’s had her second chance. She’s been reunited with her daughter for… however the fuck long it’s been since the upload. Nothing she can do will be good enough. Nothing she can do will bring my mother back from death. And what about the millions of people Solomon shoved in stasis capsules? She has to pay!”

  The wind blows down a stack of papers from the counter. A random thought tells Kaarina that her tech-challenged unconscious has brought the papers back to life. For years now, even before the Happiness-Program took over, all the offices have only used holo-messages, AR-chats, and simulations.

  It’s quiet. Kaarina closes her eyes and leans against a yellow filing cabinet by the window. Covering her face in her hands, she focuses on counting. “Kymmenen, yhdeksän, kahdeksan, seitsemän…”

  Why is she. Counting down. From ten?

  Because she’s overwhelmed, Margaret. Because arguing about who is allowed to feel this or that is a complete waste of our time.

  “…neljä, kolme, kaksi…”

  But she didn’t. Argue. About it. You and I did.

  Unless you haven’t noticed, the three of us are kind of molded into one. What we should do is let her be and focus on the task at hand.

  What. Task? Paper clips and. Filing folders?

  Don’t be a wiseacre, Margaret.

  A wise… what?

  I said what I said.

  Who speaks. Like—

  “Shut up! Shut up! Shut. The fuck. Up!”

  The AIs fall silent. Slowly, Kaarina registers a sharp pain in her left palm. She looks down and sees that she’s grabbed a stapler from the counter and squeezed it in her hand so hard that the sharp edge has dug into her flesh. One finger at a time, she lets go of the stapler, letting it fall to the floor. It falls silently next to Kaarina’s bare foot. Another whiff of wintry air plays with her short hair. She notes the lack of shivers down her spine. The way the breeze should feel cold against her neck. But it doesn’t.

  She takes a breath in, then slowly exhales until her hands stop trembling. Marching through the tunnel-shaped space where the unemployment clerks sit, she makes her way to the office kitchen. Without thinking about what she’s doing, Kaarina heads straight to the fridge and opens it wide. Ignoring the beer and wine bottles at the back, she grabs hold of a Chinese delivery box with chopsticks inside. Without looking at what’s inside, Kaarina starts shoving the food in her mouth, focusing on the taste of sesame oil, onions, garlic, and soy sauce.

  Tasting the food brings her back to this moment. None of the staff are in the kitchen area. A small aquarium shines neon-blue at the back wall. A lonely goldfish swims around in circles. With the food box in her hands, Kaarina hurries over. She looks around the aquarium, opening the closet underneath, pulling open drawers, checking the shelves on the wall.

  What are. You. Doing?

  “Looking for fish food,” Kaarina mumbles without breaking her focus on the task at hand. She shoves her mouth full of noodles and then places the box on one of the low shelves on the wall. Next, she moves on to another cabinet, pulling out random objects like filing folders, an old coffee maker, and a jar full of one- and two-Euro coins. The coins rattle against the glass jar as Kaarina lets it roll onto the floor, where the unleveled boards help it travel all the way to the fridge.

  You can’t. Save anyone. Or anything. Here. It’s not real. Everything is created. By either your. Unconscious. Or the Happiness. Program’s. Code.

  “Yeah, well,” Kaarina breathes out while rummaging through the closet. “It feels pretty damn real to me.” Finally, at the back of the second closet she opens, she sees what she’s looking for; a small container of fish food. When she turns around to face the aquarium, the goldfish has moved up to the surface as if it knows what’s to come. Two fast strides take her to the fish. She opens the container and pours the whole thing into the water. For a moment, no one says a word. In silence, they watch how the goldfish keeps opening its hungry mouth, greedily eating the tiny flakes that float at the water’s surface.

  I don’t think you’re supposed to give them that much.

  “Shut up, Markus.” Kaarina lets the empty container fall onto the floor. “It’s hungry. Nobody’s fed it in a long, long time. It wants to eat. Let it. It’s good for it.”

  Like I. Said, Margaret says, pointing her words more to Markus than Kaarina. Sometimes. The things we. Want. Aren’t things that. Will help us. In the. Long run.

  A bling sound echoes in the kitchen. Kaarina turns around and sees a tablet computer on the table, its blue light shining for a few more seconds until it dims and finally goes out. She walks closer to see a familiar logo on the tablet's frame. The Happiness-Program. Kaarina taps on the screen. A list of names and dates appears.

  I remember that list, Markus says. It’s the chipping procedure. When they first rolled out the program, people with government jobs were the first to be signed up to be chipped.

  That’s. Right. People who were. Still capable. And willing to. Work. Were offered a. Place. In the city.

  …where they were placed in Pedal and Server-Centers. Like I said, I remember. I was one of your guinea pigs from day one.

  Mine?

  Fine, the program’s.

  That’s right. Margaret pauses. You were. One of the. Few. To survive. The Great Affliction.

  Gritting her teeth, Kaarina stares at the tablet. She waits for Margaret to point out how Markus should be grateful to be alive. Or… alive-ish. But she says no such thing. That’s the thing Kaarina appreciates about Margaret; she doesn’t push or force her truth onto others.

  “You defend the program and what Solomon did an awful lot,” Kaarina says to Margaret, trying to keep her voice as neutral as possible. “But you fought against them until the fight ended up killing you. Why aren’t you, I don’t know,” Kaarina circles her hand in the air, “mad at them?”

  The program and. Doctor Solomon. Aren’t one and. The same.

  Kaarina blows a raspberry. “That’s cute. You keep telling yourself that.”

  It wasn’t Laura. Who designed the. Program. She. Hijacked it. Later on.

  A wave of rage travels through Kaarina. Talking about Solomon is like poking at a flesh wound on her stomach. It fills her with hurt. Bitterness. Anger. With an agitated movement, Kaarina reaches for the tablet with the logo. She brings the tablet high above her head, pushes it an arm’s length away, then lets it fall dramatically to the floor. The screen shatters, the blue light blinks twice, then turns off.

  “That’s what I think of your program, Lewis.”

  With silence in her head, she marches to fetch the cashew noodles from the shelf. She takes more than a mouthful, then storms out of the place where people once lined up to be told they had no meaning or purpose. Not in Laura Solomon’s world.

  ***

  The rows of tents rise in front of Kaarina. Hangars, portable garages, and small huts sit in the valley, surrounded by green mountains. The scenery looks nothing like Finland. This is not one of Kaarina’s memories but something else. In the background, discreetly, Margaret enters more code and runs her malware—or whatever—while Kaarina and Markus look around.r />
  Kaarina’s lips part slightly. “Do you know what this place is?” she half-whispers, hoping that it’ll be Markus answering, not Margaret. Though she appreciates the AI’s no-bullshit attitude and straightforwardness, her willingness to defend the program has left Kaarina winded and fatigued.

  I’m not sure… Markus replies hesitantly. Is it United Inland? I never traveled even once in my life. Not before you and I met and left Finland. The travel ban was actually set only a day or two after I was born.

  Kaarina nods. She approaches the first tent and peeks inside. An old woman, maybe eighty-something years old, sits in what looks like the seat of an old office chair. In a corner of the tent, her belongings rest in three small cardboard boxes. Eyes tired, her thin hair gray and lifeless, she stares into space.

  You know. Markus. You are an. AI. Now. You could just. Search for. Answers. Instead of guessing.

  Sighing, Kaarina opens her mouth to defend Markus, then presses her lips into a thin line. Shaking her head, she stands back up. She continues to walk through the valley of tarps, moving boxes, and long serving tables covered with bottles of water and packages of crispbread. To Kaarina’s surprise, after a prolonged moment, Markus snaps back at Margaret, You know what? You could search and learn some manners. Mind your own business, would you? I’m not here to hack into servers or to install spyware. I’m here to support my friend when she needs it the most.

  Yes? And how. Are those two. Things mutually. Exclusive?

  Oh, I don’t know. Maybe so that you would have more things to disagree with me about.

  Oh, shut it, would you?

  Ignoring Margaret’s not quite annoyed voice, Markus turns his focus back to Kaarina. I think these are the relocation hubs.

  “The what now?”

  A place where the Happiness-Program sheltered people while building the AR-cities. Anyone who wasn’t a programmer or a scientist struggled to find jobs and to support themselves. Once the government started to collapse, only children were eligible for medical care, food, and housing. Later on, the Happiness-Program—known as the Big Four back then—only took in children, locating them in the shelters that later became Nurseries. But they also needed a spot for the adults. So the relocation hubs served as parking lots for people who didn’t belong anywhere.