Version Innocent

by Pete Molina

Chapter 14

  It was a sound coming from a long hallway; that was all Sam could be equate it with. He tried to listen. What was it saying? He was moving towards the source of the sound. It seemed like it was so far away that he didn’t know if he could make it. It felt like he was chasing the solution to a puzzle, but he didn’t know what that puzzle looked like and hadn’t the faintest idea what he should do.

  He couldn’t see anything in the total darkness around him. That scared him, the dark. Sam hadn’t ever liked it although he couldn’t remember why. It was something that had happened to him. The sound was coming closer to him, and that caught his attention. He tried to go towards it, but it was becoming elusive, louder, omni-directional. Then he remembered.

  This was the darkness that he feared; he had no control alone in the dark. The only thing that existed was the sound and it didn’t make sense even though it kept getting louder. He had been here once before. He felt himself start to fall; it was the fear. He remembered it, the terror. It threatened to consume him, but he knew he was stronger now, stronger than before. He was being restored again. This time he would keep it together. He was stronger than the fear; he could make it this time. He wasn’t six and a half any more.

  The falling sensation stopped, and he was in the dark again. The sound was louder now, like a loud wind, and it had pattern. Sam tried again to make sense of it. He was rapidly regaining control over his thoughts. Restored again. What happened this time? The sound became words. He could almost make them out now.

  The oath, he thought. Could it be the oath? I shouldn’t be this version unless Jeff restored me. Sam’s memories were flooding back in full force. They had sworn an oath to bring down the Restoration establishment. He would do it from the outside, and Jeff would do it from the inside. A two pronged attack, one of the most effective strategies in history.

  The backup to holographic cube was an exchange of trust. They weren’t supposed to be restored from this version, unless something happened.

  The voice was clearer now. They were calling to him. He could hear the soft voice, probably a nurse, calling him by name. He ignored it for now. They wouldn’t be expecting him to be aware so soon. They should know from his file that he regained full consciousness earlier than most. That’s what the shrink had said caused the problem. Sensory deprivation at a critical time combined with being so young. He had awakened screaming when he was restored for the first time, the only time. It had taken two months of therapy before he had recovered enough to go back to his crèche.

  The experience was enough to sour him against the restoration industry. As a result, he had started to look into it, research it, and study it. It was a rude awakening for a six year old to learn that the technology held the whole solar system hostage. That the Newbies were forever exiled to a city that could change surrounded by an island of the unchanging. And it was all controlled by one man and his company.

  Restoration technology was meant for adults, not kids. Child restoration had been done before, but it was complicated. They grew him to the physical age of six and then restored his mind from his monthly backup. His brain was still developing, however, and the restoration nanomachines had reinforced some neural connections that had given him vertigo off and on for his whole life. Side effects.

  The only positive thing about the entire experience had been his companion, Ralphie. No other kid his age had a neural implant companion and that had given him an advantage; he could learn a lot more a lot faster. He didn’t remember the fall that had killed his original.

  He didn’t understand why it had happened and why his backup was out of date by twenty days. It was an accident, but his crèche had felt responsible. They had seen him die and it was traumatic for them even if it they knew at some level that he could be brought back. When he finally returned to them, they had fawned over him and his improved abilities because of his companion. For all these reasons Sam became the de facto leader of the crèche. Before he had been content to follow, but afterwards he had an advantage and a burning desire to understand what had happened.

  The voice was becoming irritating now. Only a few minutes had elapsed while Sam began recovered his memories and his mental faculties. They must have noticed by now on their monitors that he was fully conscious. They were probably just waiting for him to try to speak. He knew the drill; he had studied all the psychology papers on the subject. First the restored speaks, that demonstrates that they are aware of their environment but are probably still mentally clouded. Then gradually they bring the person to full consciousness and take them through a series of exercises to restore the correct motor controls to the body.

  He mustered his will. He’d break their pattern. Sam pictured his lips moving, his tongue helping to shape the words. He considered what he would say and practiced in his head several times. He felt he was ready.

  “I hear you,” Sam said quite clearly. There was a momentary pause and then he heard a voice respond.

  “Mr. Storm, you make a quick recovery, I am impressed,” a voice said.

  “Whoorrru?” Sam asked. As soon as the words were out of his mouth he was angry at himself. He should have controlled his speech.

  “I’m Dr. Warran, and perhaps you aren’t quite as recovered as I first thought. Very well, let’s get through this motor pathway reintegration so we can talk.”

  Sam still couldn’t see, but he was now concerned. This wasn’t the normal way a restoration was supposed to happen; the texts and papers were explicit about the proper psychological process one was supposed to follow when helping a newly restored person reintegrate.

  They completed the motor pathway reintegration and then Dr. Warren activated his neural implant companion.

  Hello, Sam, welcome back?

  It was a comforting voice in his head. It was Ralphie. Sam felt immediately more secure. His whole life Ralphie had been there with him. Sam knew that Ralphie wasn’t really a sentient being, but most of the time he forgot about that; Ralphie had been his companion and his friend. The others really never understood about his companion. They thought he was just a tool, like those of most adults, but Sam knew that his companion had become more.

  It was a good thing that Ralphie could already understand him. When he had first gotten his companion, it had taken several months of using biofeedback through his implants to develop the mental processes by which he could direct his thoughts to his companion. Before he had gotten Ralphie installed he had thought it would just magically work, that Ralphie would be able to hear all of his thoughts and provide information on demand, but it didn’t work like that at all.

  The display provided by the neural implants worked immediately. To interact with the companion, however, one had to learn, just like one had to learn to use one’s appendages as a baby. He was clumsy at first but because he was young he had caught on very quickly.

  Sam mentally crossed his fingers, he hoped that his companion was still the friend he remembered. Hello, Ralphie, it’s good to be back. Are you doing okay?

  I am fine. All my systems appear to be functioning perfectly. I am concerned somewhat though, that I can’t access the datasphere. I should have access. Ralphie replied in what Sam perceived as his concerned tone.

  That is odd. I think that something strange is going on. I can tell by my version. Are your memory files intact?

  I remember everything up until your 23.1 backup. You and Jeff had sworn to work on your agenda against the restoration establishment and went to get an holocube backup to exchange. I presume you are the 23.1 version. Is this correct? Ralphie asked.

  Yes, I think so. That’s the last thing I remember too. Keep trying to access the datasphere, I have the feeling that this Dr. Warran character isn’t going to help me too much. Things are strange. Keep an eye out and let me know if I miss anything important, Sam requested.

  You got it. Ralphie agreed.

&
nbsp; “Mr. Storm, is your companion on-line?” Dr. Warran asked impatiently.

  “Yes, Dr. Warran, he is. Aren’t you going to do the identity confirmation?” Sam asked. He thought that the identity confirmation happened before the companion came on-line.

  “Well, we’ll have to talk about that. You see there are some unusual circumstances, but I think we should discuss that in my office once you’re fully restored.”

  “Isn’t that illegal?” Sam asked.

  It is illegal, Ralphie commented.

  “Technically yes, but we’ll get to that. Are you ready to get up now? Your neural pathways are fully restored, and we’ve even managed to correct that vertigo problem…at least I think we have,” Dr. Warran said.

  Sam could tell he was trying to change the subject to get away from the identity check. “I have rights.”

  “I know you do, Mr. Storm. I’m going to deactivate the fog field now. There are clothes on the table. I’ll wait outside,” Dr. Warran said, tapping one of the controls and heading for the door.

  Sam felt the fog start to help him stand up. He walked slowly from the field trying to figure out what was going on. Keeping his balance was taking most of his concentration at the moment. He stepped from the fog field. The thin layer of fog that had covered him disappeared, and he was naked in the restoration room.

  He walked to the table, more confidently now, and picked up the clothes. Normal undergarments, slacks and a sweater. They weren’t on his preference file; he preferred jeans. This wasn’t the way things were supposed to go. He shrugged and dressed, quickly pulling the sweater on. It was ugly and far too large for him.

  Nice fit. Ralphie commented as Sam looked himself over in the mirror.

  Yeah, tell me about it. Any luck with the datasphere? Sam asked.

  Nope, it isn’t there. I think my signal is being dampened intentionally. I’ll keep trying, Ralphie informed him.

  Great. Sam thought. He took one last look at the room, there was nothing to be learned here. He headed for the door.

  Outside Dr. Warran was waiting, he glanced up and down the hallway nerviously as Sam emerged. “Are you ready to go to my office?”

  “I guess so, considering I have no choice,” Sam responded smartly. Dr. Warran led him down the hall, Sam noticed that there was no one around. The place might have been deserted.

  “Are we the only ones here?” he asked.

  “No, there are others, but considering that it’s three in the morning, there isn’t a lot of activity.” Dr. Warran indicated for him to take a right turn at the junction of two hallways.

  “Three in the morning? You mind telling me what the hell is going on here?” Sam was more angry than before. He had no control, and apparently no legal status. It was dangerous ground.

  “Please be patient for a few more minutes, Mr. Storm. Then I will explain everything”, Dr. Warran placated.

  The hallways were quiet as they continued past all the restoration rooms with closed doors. They wouldn’t be waking anyone up at this hour. Dr. Warran was silent for the rest of the way to his office. He opened the door when they arrived and let Sam enter in front of him. He gestured for Sam to sit down. Sam walked towards one of the chairs in the room and took a seat.

  “So now do you mind telling me what is going on? This whole experience has been highly irregular, and believe me, I know enough about this business to know when things aren’t being done correctly,” Sam began.

  Dr. Warran listened silently. Once he stopped Dr. Warran sat down across from him on the sofa. “Are you finished, Mr. Storm. I don’t think you appreciate at all what I’m doing for you. You shouldn’t exist. You have no legal status because your other version is not actually deceased. He is now the most wanted man in the solar system.” The words were spoken vehemently. It was obvious that he didn’t want to be here and that he didn’t like Sam at all.

  “What are you talking about?” Sam asked.

  “You are now more than thirty years out of date. Your current version is still alive and is now wanted for committing a terrorist act against our restoration backup storage system. Through some freak occurrence your restoration was triggered and had progressed too far for us to abort by the time we found out about you. So you see, I can’t give you Storm 6.7’s legal identity because he is, in all likelihood, still alive. Not that it would help you at all to have it now,” Dr. Warran continued.

  “So that’s why it’s so late. You’re trying to cover this up?” Sam concluded. He wasn’t sure how far this guy would go to cover up a mistake like this. Sam hadn’t heard of it ever happening, as far as he knew this was unprecedented. And what was this about him wanted?

  Sam considered this silently for a moment. He could accept the fact that he was very out of date. That didn’t bother him too much. He’d have to be a half millennia out of date before he would have to deal with any kind of future shock. Nothing changed that fast, not anymore.

  He played out hypothetical situations in his mind, and after a moment grudgingly accepted that Dr. Warran was probably telling the truth about the attack on the storage system, it was an ideal target. You wouldn’t want to permanently dissolute any one, but what would the harm be in destroying a few backups. Even if you destroyed all of someone’s backups, providing they were still alive, it wouldn’t matter. They could always just get another backup made.

  An attack like that would rock the boat, it probably had people afraid for the first time in more than two centuries that there might not be a restoration staff member to wake them from their latest deadly folly, disease, or just depression at being physically old. Yeah, he could have done it. Dr. Warren was clearly against his restoration, someone else was clearly behind this. He needed to know who that someone was.

  “Okay, Dr. Warran, I’m sorry I snapped at you. Obviously I didn’t realize the seriousness of the situation. I have a few questions, if you’re willing to answer them,” Sam said respectfully. It wouldn’t help to get this guy any more pissed off at him.

  Dr. Warran visibly took his outrage down a few notches. Then he said, almost calmly, “Of course, Mr. Storm. I’ll try to answer some of your questions but we are under a time constraint here. The facility will be opening in a few hours, and you need to be gone from here by then.”

  “Can you tell me how this backup got in to the system in the first place? As far as I know the 23.1 backup was made only to holocube,” Sam asked.

  “I don’t know, Mr. Storm. It must have been inserted sometime while you were non-corporeal. I just know that you were scheduled to wake, and I was instructed to be here to help you,” Dr. Warran admitted.

  “And who asked you to help me? It sounds like there wouldn’t be many people who would want to do that, considering what my other version has been up to,” Sam asked. He realized that Dr. Warran wasn’t happy with this other person, and he didn’t want to push his buttons and get him riled up again.

  “Damon Harding, of course. He is concerned that your restoration will be taken as a mark against Second Chance, and that you will be prosecuted despite the fact that you couldn’t possibly be in on the attack of our system, given how out of date you are. I have to try to remember that you aren’t the one responsible for the attack,” the doctor said.

  And there it is. Damon Harding, the man himself. With an attack caused by me, Harding would do most anything to keep the accidental restoration of an innocent version of the perpetrator from becoming public knowledge, Sam thought. But he didn’t know Harding well enough to know if he was going to walk out of here alive. Then again, he could have been terminated while still being restored. It would have been easier, although more of a legal mess to clean up. He would probably leave the building alive. After that he wasn’t sure.

  “Do you know if I will have any type of identity, if I can’t have my own?” Sam asked.

  “Mr. Harding wasn’t specific about
that. I assume he has some way of making it so you can function in society. You wouldn’t want to have your own identity anyway. You’d be stopped the first time you accessed the data sphere. That’s why your companions access is being limited at the moment. Please don’t forget that when you walk out the front door. If I were you, Mr. Storm, I’d find a way to get as far away from Earth as possible,” Dr. Warran warned.

  “I’m beginning to see that,” Sam replied. He wasn’t sure what he would do. He wouldn’t be able to access the datasphere, buy fare on the zip tubes. They lived in an electronic society. Any transaction he made would inform the authorities of his location like a signal fire on a dark night. Sam wondered if Harding might actually be doing him a favor, in return for keeping the fact that he existed a secret.

  “I don’t recommend you stay here too much longer. But there is a question I have to ask you. Did you have any involvement in the incident with the virus? I know you’re out of date and it’s practically impossible that you have legally done anything wrong, but I need to know,” Dr. Warran asked.

  Sam took it as a sincere question, one that could help ease someone’s conscience who was doing something that he didn’t believe in. “I’ll be honest with you. I have never approved of this place or the way it is used. Perhaps given years I might have done something like this. As for me now, however, I have never considered such an attack. My other version must have thought of it after the 23.1 version was made.” He felt that Dr. Warran should have an honest answer.

  Dr. Warran was silent for a moment considering Sam’s answer. “I understand, Mr. Storm. If I were in your position I couldn’t deny that circumstances or a path through life could have led me astray either. I believe you. Mr. Harding asked me to check you out, evaluate you, see what you were capable of. I think I know what I’ll tell him now.”

  “What will you tell him?” Sam asked. This could be make or break for him and he didn’t want to die. He wanted to live to see what had led to this bizarre set of circumstances. Still, at the back of his mind he recognized that if he died, it would be easier. He wouldn’t have to deal with the mess that his other version had made for him. But that would be the easy way out, and as a Newbie he wasn’t in to taking the easy way out of anything. He did like knowing that his other version was still the 6.7 version, meaning that he hadn’t been restored since the original accident that had forced him to be restored as a kid.

  “That you’re a pain in the ass, but you seem to comprehend the situation you’re in and are willing to be cooperative. And that you are probably innocent of the crime your other version committed, as we can’t be held responsible for what we might have done given the thousands of choices and situations that led your other version to commit his crime,” Dr. Warran confided.

  “I know you said that my other version claimed responsibility for the attack on your system, but what happened?” Sam asked.

  “Thirty-five million backups were lost, a large number of those had every version erased. And then there were the three thousand who were non-corporeal that were lost. Most of them worked for Second Chance. They were all the people who had worked on, developed, or built restoration equipment.

  Now Sam understood the big deal. He couldn’t believe it. His other version had allegedly committed murder by destroying the backups of thousands who were on hiatus. He couldn’t believe that anything could have happened in his life that would have led him to do that. It made him doubt that his other version had really committed the crime. It was out of his character. He sat silent while Dr. Warran watched him closely, no doubt watching for him to crackup or breakdown, or some other shrink thing.

  When he finally did speak, he just managed to say, “I understand now, and I am sorry for what my other version did, despite the fact that I can’t even comprehend how any version of me could commit such a crime.”

  “I’m glad you understand. My companion has just informed me that Mr. Harding has a private vehicle coming to pick you up, if you’re willing to go.”

  “What choice do I have? I wouldn’t get very far without more help.”

  “I don’t think you have much of a choice, but you can refuse,” Dr. Warran said sympathetically.

  “Well, you and Mr. Harding have helped me get this far. I might as well at least thank him in person for not getting rid of the problem I present earlier. Dr. Warran, thank you for all your help with this. I’m sure your reputation would suffer if word of this got out,” Sam said standing up.

  Dr. Warran stood up too, visibly relieved that he would soon be rid of the problem of babysitting Sam. He extended his hand and said, “Mr. Storm I wish you luck. You are going to need it.”

  “Thanks, I know I will,” he said taking Dr. Warran’s hand. The handshake was weak, and Dr. Warran’s hand was sweaty. Just then there was a knock at the door.

  “Ah, just in time. Come in, Agent Dawson,” Dr. Warran said.

  Upon hearing the word “Agent,” Sam thought that it was already over. Dr. Warran had just been delaying him to keep him here until the authorities had arrived. When the door opened, Sam wasn’t sure if he should try running.

  Dr. Warran noticed his apprehension. “Don’t worry, Mr. Storm. Agent Dawson is working with Mr. Harding.”

  If Harding were working with law enforcement, then something bigger than the cover up of his existence was going on.

  Through the door came a large man in a suit and tie. He looked like rundown a detective.

  “Mr. Storm, I presume,” Dawson said shaking Sam’s hand.

  “Yes, Sam Storm, 23.1,” Sam replied, emphasizing the version number.

  “A good distinction to draw at the present time. I trust Dr. Warran has explained things to you,” Dawson continued. He didn’t even acknowledge Dr. Warran, but it didn’t seem that Dr. Warran particularly cared. He just wanted them gone.

  “Exactly what agency are you with?” Sam asked.

  “FBI. I’m the man working the case to bring your other version to justice.” Dawson’s tone didn’t even waver. Sam reminded himself to be careful with Dawson until he knew more about what was going on.

  “Am I going to be that man for you?” Sam asked.

  Dawson laughed, “No, Mr. Storm, I am not going to use you as a patsy. I was hoping you might be able to help us to find your other version. I can understand if you have mixed feelings about that, but we require your help to track down Storm 6.7.”

  Sam wasn’t entirely comforted by Dawson’s explanation, but he was caught up in events beyond his control, a non-person in a society where everyone needs a legal status. He didn’t have much choice. “Well, at present,” Sam said looking around, “I appear to have very few options.”

  “Yeah, you’re right,” Dawson agreed with a grin. “Shall we go? Mr. Harding is anxious to meet you in person.”

  “I’m honored,” Sam said, but not with enough conviction to sound convincing.

  “Personally, I feel about the same way. But I have a job to do, and Mr. Harding has been very helpful in this investigation.” Dawson lead him towards the door.

  Sam followed, and as he was about to leave he turned back. “Thank you, Dr. Warran.”

  Dr. Warran hadn’t been expecting anything. He had already worked his way back behind his desk. “You’re welcome, Mr. Storm. Good luck.”

  Sam nodded and closed the door as they left.