Version Innocent

by Pete Molina

Chapter 16

  Sam walked briskly to the subway stop and headed down the stairs. Ralphie informed him that the train to the zip tube station would be there in five minutes. He took a seat on one of the benches. There were people wandering around waiting for their trains to show up. The place was pretty clean, and despite its reputation, it seemed that the general population was pretty well off.

  Any idea where I should go, Ralphie? Sam asked.

  You are registered as a citizen of Denver, so you can go there without an escort. I would suggest that as you know the place, Ralphie replied.

  True but people there also know who I am, Sam pointed out.

  Yes, but your new identity is just a legal fiction. I don’t think your crèche mates or colleagues will care. And you need to finish your education.

  His education. That was something he hadn’t thought about much since being restored. He was just starting some graduate work in nanotechnology when he was backed up. It was a good field of study, but unfortunately it meant that if you were serious about real applications you had to go to the Lunar Nanotechnology Research Center. It occurred to Sam that his other version probably did just that. It wouldn’t be possible for him to do the same; he was going to need to find something new and different to study.

  I guess I’ll head back to Denver. Have you checked my anonymous mail yet?

  I have established that your anonymous mail address is still active, but without your pass codes, I cannot access it, Ralphie replied.

  When he and Jeff were still together, it only seemed like yesterday, they had setup anonymous mail accounts on one of the orbital colonies that still kept its records closed. It was a free service so long as you kept your account to less than a terabyte. Sam’s was considerably smaller. Sam activated his virtual interface to the datasphere and had Ralphie move them to the iconic that represented the orbital colony at which the account was started. Sam supplied a pass code at the door to the iconic and a door opened up allowing them to enter the domain. Sam knew where to go and guided them with his interface to the safety deposit e-boxes and typed in the ten pass codes that one needed for access.

  It had taken some time for him to memorize the pass codes but once done he had never forgotten. Hopefully they were still good. In his peripheral vision he saw that a train was arriving at the subway stop. His was the next one.

  Then the code was accepted and Ralphie informed him that all stored mail had downloaded.

  Good, start going through it and let me know if you find anything interesting, Sam commanded. He hoped that if Jeff had had something to do with his restoration he would leave a note or something.

  I have located a number of files that are encrypted, I am using your personal keys to try and decrypt them, Ralphie informed him after several seconds.

  Sam waited, and his train pulled out of the tunnel into the station. He stood up and waited for it to come to a stop. When it did and the doors opened, he stepped in and took a seat. It was funny, these trains hadn’t changed much in the last three centuries, the Primers liked it that way. They were a little faster, a little safer but the look and feel was exactly as Sam had seen in pictured in old movies and documentaries. Primers were strangenostalgic was the word that came to the top of Sam’s mind. They didn’t usually care too much if you could make something infinitely better or safer but make it look the same.

  The train started moving. Sam’s heads up display told him his estimated transit time and gave him a small map route to the zip tube station that they were following. The trip would only take ten minuets give or take.

  I have finished decrypting all of the files, Ralphie interrupted.

  And?

  There is nothing of much relevance except a mail message sent from Jeff to you two days ago. It begins with, Dear Sam23.1, Ralphie related.

  That piqued Sam’s interest. Apparently Jeff did know something about his restoration. Show me the message please, Sam commanded.

  In his display a flat image of Jeff appeared to float just in front of him. He looked old. For a moment Sam wasn’t sure it was Jeff, but he recognized the eyes and the smile. They were trademark Jeff.

  “Dear Sam23.1. Yes this message is for you and not your other version. I’m not sure how things have come out for you after being fully restored, I have to admit that I didn’t think that far along. I tried to disguise your identity in the computer but I don’t know if that worked. I just hope that Damon Harding hasn’t gotten to you first. But you must be okay if you got to this message.”

  “A lot of things have changed in the last thirty years. You should know right up front that your other version and I haven’t been the best of friends for a while. Perhaps it’s because he didn’t want to get me too caught up in whatever he’s been up to that has raised such a stir lately.”

  “I was the acting director of the restoration division until your other version’s attack several weeks ago. I had been in that position for the last eight years. I think that Sam 6.7 thought I sold him out and went to the other side but I haven’t become an Primer. Remember our plan? What am I saying? Of course you do. For you it must have been just yesterday.”

  “At any rate your other version has caught me up in this mess and I am going to try to find him. I have recently met someone else who has reason to find Sam, and believe me, our intentions are saint-like compared to the others who are looking for him. I figured that you’d have your own beef or desire to see him, so I just wanted you to know what was going on.”

  “I am meeting with this other interested party at Stacy’s house on the first at eight PM. I hope you’ll come. I miss you, Sam. I miss the old me too. We had such fun together. Anyway, try and make it. And if you get this message before the dinner try and come to see me. I’ll try to help you as much as possible but be careful because I’m sure I’m under surveillance. They don’t trust me, the FBI that is and Damon Harding, and now they think I’ll lead them to Sam 6.7. But I’ll be damned if I’ll help them.

  “See you soon, Sam. Welcome back. Sorry about any trouble you’ve had.”

  Sorry about all the trouble, Sam thought as the image disappeared. That’s an understatement. The Dinner was tonight at Stacy’s. It’d be good to see her too; of course, she probably looked as old as Jeff. And what’s this about someone else who wanted to find his other version? Probably some one he owes money. I’m glad Jeff is the one who started the restoration though I can’t believe Harding didn’t know that. Then Sam realized that, of course, Harding knew. How could he miss it, he’d had Jeff under observation since the virus. Harding was playing a game with both of them, and Sam wasn’t sure whose pawn he was anymore.

  I shouldn’t even be here, he thought. I’m an old version and my present self is still running around out there. It raised a number of theological issues that Sam didn’t even want to get in to. Most religions still existed in some measure. The large ones had backed down somewhat to take on different roles. After all, there wasn’t much need for a heaven if you never had to die. But the thing that had never been resolved to Sam’s satisfaction was the whole soul thing. If a person did have a soul, as the religions still believed, what happened to it when you were restored?

  Was he sharing a soul with Sam 6.7, or did he have none at all? Sam didn’t go in for all that crap though. If there were a soul, he believed that it was just the unique pattern that his body, matter, energy, and mind made up in the universe. If that were true, then he had a soul, and it was unique. Sam sniffed at the ridiculousness of his digression. He didn’t care about any of that. He just wanted some answers and he wanted to know what he should do. He had his own path to follow now, independent of Sam Storm 6.7.

  He knew that he needed closure with his other self, either through 6.7’s death or just through talking with him before he could move on and become Gregory Hillman.

  The subway train stopped, and Sam got up. He was don
e brooding for the moment. He had someplace to be...a dinner party. He walked off the subway in to a cavernous subway stop and headed towards the sign that said “Zip Train Terminal” and the giant holes in the ground through which hundreds of people were sinking or rising up from below.

  The trip to Denver was uneventful. The entire experience of riding the zip trains was exactly as he remembered it. Of course, now that he’d traveled by suborbital limousine, he didn’t find it as exciting as he once had. The view from the limo was infinitely better. Sam stopped at the visitors office and picked up a new chip. They didn’t hassle him at all about letting him enter the city. Apparently Damon Harding had done what he said and made the records indicate that he was from Denver originally and not subject to its visitor limitations.

  Sam took the lift tube to the surface among the others who were just arriving in the city this morning. He had all day. The dinner meeting wouldn’t be until tonight at eight. Sam wasn’t sure how he should spend the day but considered his options. The grumble from his belly let him know that he hadn’t eaten in a while. And the more he thought about it, he realized that ever since he was restored, he hadn’t had anything to eat. This just made his belly gurgle more loudly in protest of this treatment.

  Sam was startled when several people next to him just took off into the air. It seemed like they were flying to Sam, and that was new. The bizarreness of it almost made him temporarily forget that he was hungry. Then he looked upward and saw many people flying around up above the buildings. Some were heading in straight lines, obviously with destinations. Some were just doing loops and others taking a slow scenic flight. Sam just stared up for a few moments.

  Just to see something he hadn’t expected gave him heart that the city continued to change. As long as the changes weren’t too radical or dangerous and they kept them within the city limits, the Primers didn’t seem to have a problem with it.

  Ralphie, can you tell me what is going on with these flying people everywhere?

  Yes, Sam, I have been accessing the city computer system through your new chip and it is downloading instructions on how to fly. The technology, as you have probably guessed, is based on utility fog technology. It is very similar to a lift tube except that it is not confined to a small column but is distributed uniformly through the city rising to an altitude of approximately one mile. It is a dome shaped region and at its lowest points at the cities perimeter only rises to an altitude of a hundred meters.

  Sam was in awe. That was a lot of fog, a lot. Lift columns and safety restraint systems in small confined areas were one thing but a whole city. That was amazing. The control software must be incredibly complex to be able to handle that many foglets all at once. Sam wanted to try it. He realized that had this innovation been there when he was still a kid, he could have avoided dying that first time. And he would have had to live with the same companion that all the kids had to make do with, not the neural implant. It would have been a very different life.

  Sam’s belly rumbled loudly again. “All right, I’ll get something to eat,” Sam said to his stomach.

  He looked around to see if the Chinese restaurant was still here. It was. Sam walked off down the block to a restaurant that he had eaten at regularly before the backup. It had changed, he noticed as he walked up to the counter; There were still students working behind the counter; still was the same selection of food. The décor was different though. The furniture had all been replaced. It wasn’t the beat up stuff he was used to, but new metal and wood furniture. The place was obviously doing well if it could afford to purchase new furniture. The walls were painted maroon, different than the white he remembered and there were flat screen picture windows along the walls that depicted scenery of China as seen from several places. The great wall, Tiananmen Square in Beijing and a few others that Sam couldn’t place right away.

  He told the student who was working that he wanted some sesame chicken and some fried rice. Sam loved sesame chicken, and they made it well here. Just the right amount of spice. And he got some Hot and Sour soup; it was spiced just right tooor at least it had been last time He picked up his tray at the end of the counter after a minute or so and took it to one of the small seats by the front window that looked out on the street where he proceeded to devour his meal.

  He realized after he had finished the food, which was better than he remembered, that he was going to need a second helping, so he went back for more. This time when he sat down he ate at a more leisurely pace trying to figure out what he was going to do with his life. Admittedly he didn’t really need to decide right now. His immediate future seemed to be dragging him along without his choice. But that would change. He had a new life to live as Gregory Hillman, even though he was still Sam.

  He was considering this when he saw someone fly by the front window, buzzing the ground. Sam hurriedly finished the rest of his lunch. He was anxious to try out flying. There was plenty of time to figure out what do with his life later.