by Tara Basi
“There are three separate discontinuous Record segments. They don’t cover the whole week. It’s all we’re going to get. Let’s just hope it isn’t all dark,” Zip said.
Peter knew what she meant. The Record process never stopped, even when you slept, but it couldn’t see dreams. It recorded the blackness and vital signs only. Zip could fast forward through all of that and hope that wasn’t all there was. And that’s exactly how the first Replay unfolded. Darkness and troubled dreams, according to the vitals. Zip rolled forward until Zara was awoken by a VR request.
Peter could smell old sweat and alcohol. From her vitals, it looked like Zara was seriously hungover. There was someone else in the bed with her, a lump under the bedclothes in the corner of her eye. Zara cleared her throat and smothered a cough. The lump in the bed shifted position then settled. She got up and quietly left the bedroom and entered a bathroom. From what Peter had seen so far, she appeared to be in a fairly standard, mid-range hotel room that could have been anywhere in London. The VR request was still ringing in Zara’s Headgear. Orb Industries was calling. Peter wasn’t surprised; at the time, Zara worked for Industries in some sort of security role. Zara answered the call with a five-minute delay request. Industries accepted. She turned to look at herself in a full-length bathroom mirror, and Peter couldn’t help being shocked. He was surprised Zip wasn’t already fast forwarding the Record. Zara was naked and she looked awful. Bizarrely, it appeared that this was something Zip wanted to see, and the Record continued to play normally. Zara was in decent shape for a sixty-year-old woman who’d fought in two global wars: lean and tightly muscled. Her skin betrayed her age; it clung tightly to her old body, like a tea-stained leotard. Across her chest, thighs and arms ran countless scars, as though she were sprayed with a light brown skin colour that had been repeatedly scored to reveal her bleached paleness underneath. It was a body that had been ravaged by the elements as well. Like the rings in a tree, she carried the marks of years under a scorching sun and as long again suffering frostbite cold. Her wrinkled, liver-spotted hands hung like claws against her still-athletic thighs. Her face was deeply lined, her hair as white as the quills of a feather and looked just as desiccated and lifeless. Empty eyes stared back at Zara from her reflection as though they’d been exhausted of the ability to display any emotion.
She looked nothing like Zip, but then, of course, why should she? Zara was in Pip’s body. He recognised something of the Zip he knew in Zara’s watery, blue eyes, even though he knew they were not the same eyes. Zara looked weary and anxious as she studied her own face in the mirrored wall.
Without warning, Zara started shaking uncontrollably and fell to the floor in a foetal position, where she lay curled up for a good couple of minutes. From her snatched and shallow breathing, and the other vital signs, it was obvious she was having a panic attack. Peter was shocked; a part of him wanted to leave the Replay. This was too intimate, too visceral. Why wasn’t Zip skipping past this? Didn’t she have any shame? Had she forgotten he was watching as well? He wanted to look away but couldn’t in case he missed something important. As he watched, he knew he wouldn’t be surprised if this wreck of a woman did try and kill herself.
Slowly, Zara recovered and stepped into the shower. Thankfully, at that point, Zip did skip forward. Now Zara was wearing a cotton dressing gown and sitting on a stool in the bathroom when she accepted the VR invitation from Industries. She appeared in a bland meeting room. The only other occupant was one of the Industries’ Suits sitting opposite Zara.
“Zara, good to see you. It’s been a little while.”
Zara’s blood pressure shot up. “Fuck you! You said you’d let me go a year ago. But there’s always one more dirty little op?”
The suit rested its cloth elbows on the table and leaned towards Zara. If it had a face, Peter imagined it would be smiling, and it wouldn’t be a kind smile.
“You are so good at them. Truly, though, if you do this one, it’ll be the last, and we’ll throw in a few extras.”
Zara was obviously under a lot of stress. “Lying bastard! Why should I trust you?”
“Executive retirement benefits, a new identity and a very sizeable bonus. You can start over.”
Zara was calming, a little. “You didn’t answer my question, you devious shit.”
“Have a look at your Headgear. You’ll find it all in writing. From next week you’re out, and quite rich.”
Zara pushed the Suit’s contract to a legal app, which immediately gave it the all clear. Her vitals noticeably started normalising, but it was obvious she was still nervous, sceptical. “Who do I have to kill? The whole Church board and the CEO?” She laughed; it sounded harsh and forced.
“A single target, not connected to the Church. There’s no security to be concerned with and access is straightforward.”
Zara’s vitals started to rise again. “No, I’m done with killing. Something else, anything else.”
“Then you’ll work till you’re eighty and retire with nothing. Oh yes, and we’ll be sending you back to the field. There’s lots of little wars in China we could get you to go fight for us.”
“Bastard! I’m still not doing it. I’ll take my chances outside the wall. You won’t find me. I’ll give up my citizenship.”
Peter was surprised. It was obvious she meant it. The Suit seemed unconcerned; it fluttered nonchalantly at the end of the table.
“Will you take your family with you? If you go, we might just exile them as well.”
With amazing speed and agility, Zara leapt onto the table and tried to kick the Suit. It was an impressive but pointless move. The Suit absorbed the blow and billowed back into shape.
“Zara, please. There’s no need for any of this unpleasantness. Let me tell you a little about the target, then you can decide.”
Zara had returned to her seat and was breathing heavily. “I’m listening, shit-face.”
“The target is trying to create a new, more powerful generation of AIs. These machines are like nothing you’ve ever seen before. Extremely dangerous and able to look human. At the moment, there are just a few prototypes constructed at a secret lab beyond the wall.”
Zara’s vitals were shooting up. She was obviously shocked and frightened by what the Suit had told her. “Are you crazy? Why’d you let this happen? For God’s sake, send in a squad and destroy everything. Why do you need me?”
“We don’t know where the lab is. We’ve captured the target and one of the prototypes. The target can’t be allowed to restart their experiments.”
“This is not making any sense. You can get information out of anybody. And why do you need an assassin if you already have the target?”
“The situation is complex and sensitive. We have technology, in the early-stages of development, that’ll let us access all the information we need, even after the target’s dead. And this has to look like suicide. There can be no trace of any Industries involvement.”
Zara didn’t reply immediately. She was obviously thinking hard; all her vitals were smoothing out. “Who’s the target?”
“Professor Simmons.”
Zara gasped and didn’t answer. She was shaking her head. Peter guessed she was as stunned then as he was now.
“I know, but she’s gone back to her old ways, Zara. We need to stop her once and for all.”
Zip found her voice. “Christ, you can’t be serious. She’s a bloody icon.”
“It gets worse, Zara. She’s converted. Simmons is a Pilgrim now, with crazy ideas about the Orb. Imagine, Zara, the Church with an AI super-army?”
“Isn’t there another way? How do I know you’re not lying?”
“We have proof. And she doesn’t deny any of it. One of her monsters is working with her. Don’t worry, its harnessed. There’s no other way. Up to now we’ve been using an actress and Professor Simmons’ likeness as her avatar in public, but we can’t carry on pretending. Someone is going to find out. And we can’t let her join the Church.�
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Peter was appalled but not surprised, not after encountering Bunny, Mathew and Quattro’s body. Ever since she’d converted, Professor Simmons had become obsessed with fixing the mistakes that led to the Mutiny. It was a ridiculous notion. An AI with freewill was always going to be a threat. Ironic that such a clever woman as Professor Simmons, who professed to be religious, hadn’t understood that basic lesson from the Garden of Eden. Zara’s vitals and her fixed gaze on her fidgeting hands suggested she wasn’t convinced by the Suit.
“No, no. I can’t do this anymore. I want peace and rest. The terrors are killing me.”
“We’ll give you a nice new body. Really nice. There’s a girl who’s becoming a pest.”
The Replay abruptly stopped. Peter disconnected and turned to look at Zip on the adjacent couch. “What happened?”
She didn’t answer. She was holding her head in her hands and sobbing. He felt embarrassed. Awkwardly, he stretched out and patted her on the back. She slapped his hand away.
“What do you think happened? I got Pip’s body, didn’t I? She must have been the fucking pest,” Zip screamed.
Peter didn’t know what to say. He decided to say nothing and wait till she’d calmed down. Eventually, she stopped crying. Zip was staring blankly at the cellar wall. Peter decided to try again. “Petula was obviously doing what Industries said. You’ve seen Mathew, Bunny. Maybe it was the right thing to do?”
Zip swivelled and brought her face close to Peter’s. Her eyes were cold and hard, more like Zara’s than ever. “Maybe! Maybe it was alright to get Pip killed. Maybe it was alright to blow Petula’s brains out? You ever kill anyone, Peter? Stupid question. You killed Quattro. I think you got Kiki killed as well. Didn’t you?”
Peter recoiled in dismay. His stomach churned and he thought he might be sick. How did Zip know about Kiki? It didn’t matter. He couldn’t let her terrible accusations stand. His voice was breaking when he answered, “I experimented with dangerous technology. And, yes, it got Kiki killed. If I’d known, if I’d had any idea, do you think I would have risked my daughter’s life? And that’s what Professor Simmons was doing. Playing god.”
Zip dropped her head into her hands and rocked slowly back and forth for a while. “I’m sorry, Peter, that was unfair. I know Kiki’s death must have been an accident. It was obvious how much you cared for Quattro. I don’t have accidents, Peter. I murder. I hoped I hadn’t this one time.”
Peter felt drained. He didn’t want to fight with Zip. “You don’t know that you did. Not yet. Is there any more Record?”
“Two more segments. This is very hard for me, Peter: remembering exactly who I was, the state I was in.”
“Do you want to take a break?”
“Jesus and the Tramp, no! I want this over with. Ready?”
Peter nodded and reconnected to Zip’s Replay stream.
Zara was looking at Professor Simmons.
Peter’s heart jumped. His vitals were racing after Zara’s. He recognised the location. It was the same lab hideaway Bunny had used for their private conversation.
Professor Simmons was a beautiful, voluptuous woman with a wonderful waterfall of thick auburn hair. He’d loved that hair. It had been an indescribable pleasure just to bury his face in her tresses and breathe in her scent. Her olive complexion was more lined than he remembered, and her soft brown eyes were tired and sad. Peter didn’t think he could watch Zara kill her. Professor Simmons was in the middle of a conversation with Zara.
“It was the wrong Record: Mathew’s Record. Deliberate sabotage. The right Record was from a professor of anthropology and political science – a man who believed, like me, that peace with the AI was possible. It doesn’t matter now. We need to prepare for the Orb Event. You know what to do.”
“How can you be sure this is going to work?” said Zara.
“Down here, cut off from the Net, I might as well be dead. Only two things are leaving this lab: my reanimation infrastructure, that’ll go to Peter, and you. That’s all I’m sure of.”
Zara seemed anxious and tense. “I don’t understand how you’re going to fool Industries. Aren’t they’re watching everything?”
“Bunny can fool the surveillance for a little while. Now, can you give me a minute? I need to prepare.”
There was a jolt and they were back in the same lab in which Industries had imprisoned Peter. Professor Simmons approached Bunny and stood in silence for a long minute with her forehead touching Bunny’s. Peter wondered if she was praying. Having finished whatever she’d been doing, Professor Simmons – Petula – walked over to Zara.
“Give me your weapon,” Petula said.
Zara hesitated then unholstered her sidearm and handed it over. “What are you planning?”
“Bunny is going to restore the live feed. You must complete your mission. Millions of lives are in your hands and Peter’s.”
Peter recoiled at the mention of his name. What had Zara and Professor Simmons discussed? How was he involved? Before he could disconnect, Petula put Zara’s weapon to her head and blew her own brains out.
Zara screamed. The Replay went blank.
Peter struggled to catch his breath. “What the hell happened?”
Zip was shaking her head as though she couldn’t believe her own Record. “She killed herself. I didn’t murder her.”
“But why?” Peter insisted.
“Jesus and the Tramp, you’ve seen what I’ve seen. How the hell do I know?”
Zip looked calm and in control again, and it made Peter angry. “That was horrible and you’re glad, aren’t you?”
“Don’t be stupid, Peter. In a way, I’m relieved. Of course I am.”
Peter clenched his fists and rested them on his thighs. He knew it wasn’t right to be angry with Zip. Petula had taken her own life, without any obvious reason.
“What about the note?”
“Note? What note?”
“In the lab. I sent you a coded note, just before you activated the trigger, the Record?”
Peter had tried to block out the moments leading up to the horrible sight of Quattro’s twisted body crumpled up on the floor of the lab. He had a faint memory of an unread message. Peter checked his Headgear and found the unopened mail was still being decrypted. He remembered how Zip had sent it privately, using one of his own apps for tracking and communicating with Quattro.
“I forgot. Yes, I have it. It’s from Professor Simmons. It must be. It’ll take a few more minutes to finish decoding. Is there any more Record?”
“Ten minutes, that’s all.”
“By the time we’ve finished, the note will be accessible.”
Peter reconnected, and Zip started the Replay. He disconnected as fast as he could, but it wasn’t fast enough not to see and hear Zara being tortured. Peter wasn’t exactly sure what was being done to the poor woman and he didn’t want to be sure. What he’d briefly experienced was horrific. She was screaming, there was blood spraying everywhere, small machines were cutting into her flesh. Peter looked over at Zip, amazed to find that she was still watching. How could she stand it?
It was another minute before she lifted her head. “It’s over.”
“What the hell was that?”
“VR interrogation. It wasn’t real. I’d have known that and it wouldn’t have been so bad. I’ve been trained. Shall we continue?”
A VR was more than real to any normal person. There was so much about Zip he didn’t understand.
Still trembling and with some hesitation, he said, “Yes, there can’t be much left.”
When they dived back in, the Suit was speaking to Zara.
“So it seems we should believe you. Your blank hours really were spent getting drunk at the bottom of the city and falling asleep in your own vomit.”
Zara didn’t say anything. She was obviously exhausted. Her head dropped, bringing into view her hands, strapped to the arms of a chair. Sweat splashed onto her curled, white-knuckled fingers.
; “It must have been distressing fishing this out of all that gore,” the Suit said, holding up a shiny Record. “ECG analysis confirms it’s genuine. Who’d have thought she’d actually kill herself? Though it’s all very handy for us. Tomorrow we’ll announce the terrible news.”
Zara kept her silence while her eyes scanned the room. It was a bare cell. Apart from the Suit, there were two troopers guarding the door. Her gaze fell back on the Suit.
“We had a deal,” she whispered, her voice hoarse and cracking.
“Indeed. And you have delivered. I’m uncomfortable, though. The conversation you had with her, before she killed herself, was crazy, gibberish. Pseudo-intellectual, philosophical shit. That’s not like her. Then it’s not like her to grab your weapon and clean out her skull with a bullet. So, we’re suspicious.”
“She’s dead. You got what you wanted. Pay up.”
“True, and we do have a contract. Our natural paranoia suggests we take some precautions, after we wipe your memory for the last week in case you two cooked something up.”
“No, no, that wasn’t the deal. You leave my fucking memories alone.” Zip’s vitals were going through the roof.
The Suit floated away towards the cell door and started to flicker out of existence, then abruptly re-materialised. “Oh, nearly forgot, we need a good reason for your sudden and unexpected retirement.”
One of the guards stepped forwards and drew an ugly combat knife from a sheaf on his belt. Its long, serrated edge glinted in the artificial light.
The Record stopped. Peter breathed out, relieved it hadn’t continued. “You didn’t kill yourself, either,” he said to Zip.
“There must have been two Records. One trigger for each cyber-bomb,” Zip said, looking drained but relaxed. She was almost smiling. “Have you decoded the note?”