Thrill switch, p.21
Thrill Switch, page 21
‘No!’ I shouted.
I turned around, scrambling back. Joon struggled to free himself from the harpoon. He sliced the end off with his claws and the thing ripped free. By now the cyber-trucks had circled around him. He struggled to his feet as five of the giant security guards jumped from their cars. The angel of death from before also emerged, tall and menacing. I sprinted forward ready to dive into the fray again.
‘Go!’ Joon waved with his good arm, trying to get me to leave.
He spun to fight. He was too late. The angel raised a bladed wing and sliced down, cleaving Joon in two from skull to scrotum. His body dropped apart to the ground, mouth open in shock, eyes wide.
I growled. A sense of rage built from deep within at the sight. This wasn’t right. This wasn’t justice. My growl turned to a primal scream.
I held out my hand, curled my left finger back three times as the trigger, and blasted them all into their next life.
39
I JACKED OUT to see Joon’s body shuddering on the ground. Alarms rang everywhere. My head spun. The noise collided with the effects of the digital drugs in my system. Even untethered from the virtual world, everything pulsed and swirled. My confused state was nothing to Joon’s distress though. He managed to wrench his connection free. He saw me and howled like a dying animal. It was pure despair. The door slammed open. Gibson. He assessed the situation and went straight to Joon’s side. I did too. I pulled all of the cables away from his body.
‘Agent Joon,’ Gibson said, holding him by the shoulders. ‘You’re in the real world. You’re okay. It was just virtual.’
‘You’re with us, Joon,’ I said.
‘Medic!’ Gibson yelled into his wrist-comm.
Joon thrashed away from Gibson. He stumbled to his feet and crashed into the wall. He held himself up, his legs shaking.
‘I need to go back in,’ he said. ‘I need to get my body. We can save it. Sabi can save it.’
He struggled toward the Holos stack, reaching for the connecting cables he normally jacked into his skull cap. Gibson held him back, holding him upright in the process.
‘You’re in shock,’ Gibson said firmly. ‘Sit down. Sit down.’ He tried to lower Joon to the ground but Joon wouldn’t go.
‘No,’ he said. ‘My body.’
‘Joon,’ I touched his arm. ‘There’s no body to save. It’s gone. It’s…’
I trailed off. I didn’t want to say I’d blown it apart beyond any chance of repair. Not even a string of code would be left.
Joon did slump down then. He hit the ground like a marionette with its strings cut. A medic arrived. It was the same man who’d helped me last time. He dropped a bag of equipment on the floor and rifled for the right options. Joon leaned to the side and vomited. The liquid slid across the floor.
‘It was all for nothing,’ he moaned, sick still dripping from his mouth.
The medic had found what he was looking for and jabbed Joon’s arm with a needle. As the plunger went in, Joon heaved a breath.
‘It wasn’t for nothing,’ I said, trying to soothe him. ‘We got him. We got Bleesh.’
‘No,’ Joon shook his head. He lay down on the ground, putting his hand over his face. ‘We got nothing. You fucked it up.’
My warm sympathy flared to hot anger, the last of my digital drug high crashing fast and hard, making me erratic.
‘I did nothing of the sort,’ I snapped. ‘I got Bleesh.’
Joon coughed and retched again. He sat up and leveled a hate-filled gaze at me. My statement had snapped his mind momentarily to attention.
‘He splashed his drink all over you,’ Joon said. ‘The trace dot was in it. Not even our conversation was recorded because of the privacy coding of the club. Or are you too high to remember?’
The statement obviously drained him. He rested his elbows on his knees, his head hanging. He panted. The medic checked his vitals.
‘I’m clearer than you think,’ I said. ‘The trace dot wasn’t in the drink.’
Joon stopped, confusion lining his features as he looked up again. He blinked. His eyes went in and out of focus.
‘What?’ he said.
I held up an imaginary glass toward him to help explain. I swirled it with my finger like I had Bleesh’s, then made a show of licking the fingertip.
‘I knew that filthy troll would force himself on me at some point,’ I said. ‘I wanted his kiss. We got him, Joon. The dot was on my tongue and he sucked it down hook, line, and sinker. We’ve got our killer right where we want him.’
Joon vomited once more, this time all over the front of me. His eyes rolled back in his head. He was out. But I wasn’t. I had the target right in my sights.
40
OUR TEAM SAT in the briefing room for an emergency meeting. Gibson. Cline. The Sheriff. Me.
Joon had been sent to hospital for monitoring. His vitals were stable, but the avatar death had rocked him, even when he’d had serious Stockholm Effect training. Still, we had to press on. This new development wouldn’t wait.
Footage from outside LoveDeath played on the Feed screen. News stations and vloggers and Feeders had picked up the story, spouting all sorts of conspiracy theories. The blast was from a Neo Specter Slaughter group. It was a secret ploy by Senator Rommel to cause chaos in the Holos and whip up support for her bill. It was a kid hacker just playing around with a new toy. The novelty was why the story was getting so much attention. Hundreds—if not thousands—of avatars were scrambled nightly in the Holos, just not in this spectacular way, so they never made for good news. Thankfully, for us, the recording ban inside LoveDeath meant all that came out of the mess were people’s highly exaggerated and distorted versions of events. The result was a shitshow of he said, she said, they said, we did.
‘You have a lot to answer for,’ Sheriff Mendez seethed.
I sat there nursing my temples. An atomic-level migraine was trying to pulverize my brain to mush. The high from the cocaine cowboy in my system fully collapsed between the jack-in room and here. True reality came rushing in. My sense of accomplishment at what we’d done hadn’t disappeared, but how we’d done it had my moral compass spinning. Joon had lost his avatar. I’d obliterated many more. But we hadn’t really killed anyone. Had we? They were just digital people. Their true selves were alive and well. Weren’t they? I hoped Joon was coping, physically and mentally. I wanted to tell him I was sorry. I wanted to explain it was worth it. Guilt mixed with the endless anxiety that seemed a permanent fixture in my life now. My skin prickled with heat. Pretty soon I’d start sweating rivers and begin to shake. I needed to hold it together. I swallowed and pushed it all down. Don’t feel, just do, I thought. Get up. Move forward. But feelings kept rushing in.
The sheriff was furious. I’d gone against protocol by using a non-stock avatar to go undercover. But how else could you do it? I shouldn’t have been so stupid to use Sabi’s weapon so recklessly at any rate. Everything felt so twisted right now. So unreal. I looked at my hands. They were mine, weren’t they? I wasn’t still in the Holos. Or was I? It had felt the same there in my synced avatar that looked and felt just like me. How could I tell the difference between here and there? Switch’s words echoed through me. When you come out, you’re changed. You can’t go back from that. When you try, you realize that you were just in a simulation. But it felt so real. So, what do you feel now? Is the solid world real, or just another simulation? I touched the silver ring on my thumb. My dad’s ring. My anchor. No, this was real. If it wasn’t, nothing was. We were in the true world, not that shadow place.
‘How did you do all that damage?’ Mendez pressed. ‘Was it Agent Joon? Trust him to have access to firepower like that in virtual.’
I didn’t say anything. I wasn’t about to admit it was my own special avatar function. The evaporating of Bleesh’s henchman hadn’t been captured on film either. Still, Joon shouldn’t have to wear the jacket for my stuff up. I wanted to say it was me, but didn’t. Maybe if I kept quiet, they’d just move on about it.
‘We didn’t break any laws,’ I murmured instead. ‘We were in the Holos.’
‘There’s a difference between breaking laws and acting with integrity,’ snapped Mendez. ‘You’re on a fine line here. I should take you off the case.’
I held my breath. Bit my lip. The goal of catching this killer was all that was holding me together right now. My last tether to sanity. If that was cut away, where would I be then?
‘You’re lucky there’s been no mention of police involvement in these reports, despite how crazy they are,’ Mendez continued. ‘How you got away undetected and managed to get a trace on Bleesh is beyond me. I suppose it was worth the sacrifice.’
‘What sacrifice?’ Gibson said. ‘A bit of a virtual knocking around?’
‘Have some god-damned respect,’ I found myself saying with much more force than necessary. ‘Joon’s body was destroyed.’
‘So what?’ Gibson said. ‘He can get another avatar. He’ll be fine in a day or two.’
‘Could you get another one of your stupid thumb heads if I ripped it off?’ I growled.
Who even was I? Defending a virtual lifestyle?
‘Enough!’ the Sheriff slapped her hand on the table. ‘Detective Byron, I’m willing to cut you a little slack because of your results today, but one more word out of line, and you’re done. Entendida?’
I locked my jaw tighter than a pit bull and nodded.
‘Now,’ Mendez said, ‘How do we activate this tracing dot?’
‘Senator Fukami gave us an access link,’ I said slowly. ‘I believe we follow that. Joon had all the technical details.’
‘I’ll be able to figure it out if there’s link,’ Cline said. ‘If we need to ask Agent Joon, we will.’
I eyed Cline warily. There was too much pointing toward him being a mole. I didn’t want to hand him the link. Mendez caught my reluctance.
‘It’s okay, Ada,’ she said. ‘Cline explained how he missed the footage scrub. We’ve done a full sweep of his communications and he’s clear. He’s also on notice, aren’t you, güey?’
Cline looked down, then up at me in apology. ‘I won’t make excuses,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry. It was an error. One I won’t repeat. If this trace fails, I’m done. I want to catch this guy as much as anyone.’
‘He’s made up for his mistake too with some solid thinking,’ Mendez said.
I looked to Cline for an explanation and he smiled tentatively.
‘How?’ I asked.
Cline swiped his wrist-comm to find what he was looking for. ‘I had a thought that these murders are mostly about manipulating information,’ he said. ‘Physical murders veiled as Specter Slaughters. Different claims of responsibility. Why? They’re putting false signals out there to throw Rommel’s policy pricing into chaos. It’s been working too. So, how do you combat misinformation? You put better information out there. I realized we could release the footage of the killer if we blurred out his identity using the latest military-grade AI and authentication stamping. No spider tattoo. No link to Switch. No panic. But you have proof they’re physical killings showing all of those jack-ins that the Holos is safe. It should stop the refugee crisis overnight. Senator Rommel approved everything and made it possible while you were in the Holos.’
He hit the right key on his wrist and the briefing room screen flicked to life again. On it was Feed footage of the first crime scene. You couldn’t see our killer’s face or tattoo, but he was clearly entering and leaving Rama’s apartment at the time of the murder, needle in hand. Info scrolled below. News headlines proclaimed NEO SPECTRE SLAUGHTERS NOT REAL.
I should have been happy but wasn’t.
‘But you’ve just given our killer the heads up!’ I said. ‘We’ve traced him without him knowing and you’re jeopardizing that! Couldn’t we have just waited twenty-four hours? He could be smoke in the wind by the time we catch up with him.’
Cline’s smile didn’t fade. It only got wider. Senator Rommel’s face cut into frame behind him on the news feed. She stood in front of a press gallery, giving a statement.
‘This latest good work by police to find this footage shows just how important our bill is,’ she said. ‘If Mercury was the only currency in the Holos, we would be able to match this killer’s photo with his active avatars and know exactly where he is right now in both worlds. As it stands, we have no other solid lead on this killer. He remains active and totally unknown.’
‘See,’ Cline said, cutting off the screen. ‘The killer thinks he’s safe for now. Some refugees are starting to plug back in. The Strip is still a mess, but it’s a start. More importantly, Rommel’s policy has narrowed down near to a dollar again. The public are reacting to being threatened by this killer by sinking everything into the bill to get it passed. Bleesh will be furious. He’ll be working harder than ever to get to Corpus and swing things in his favor again. To sew doubt about this footage being doctored somehow. He’ll be as distracted as possible and we’re just about to rain fire on him. This thing is over. We’ve won.’
I sat back, trying to process everything. We were on the edge of breaking things wide open. We just needed to use the tracing dot and hope Bleesh hadn’t cut and run.
41
THE SPIDER SMILED as Corpus screamed.
Corpus gritted his teeth. Tried to still his mind and dissociate from the pain. It was impossible. There was no escaping the reality of agony. His tormenter’s blades scoured his skin. Burned into his flesh at every nerve cluster and sensitive muscle. He howled his impotence to get away. Just a few words would end this suffering. A location. An admission. He shouldn’t. Wouldn’t. He could do this. It was only a matter of time before he was free. He had to believe it or go mad. The police would find him soon.
‘Not long now,’ the Spider said, wiping Corpus’s blood off his knife.
His incisors and hairy face looked ghastly in the stark, fluorescent light of the room. Weren’t torturers supposed to work in the shadows?
‘Not long until I have you,’ he repeated.
The Spider turned his many eyes toward the screen on the wall. A counter had begun in the corner. Less than 48-hours until Corpus was found, it said. Either way, this would all end then. Corpus had already held out this long. He could see it through. He could make that counter pause for a while if he set his mind to it. Buy himself some extra time. Keep his anxiety at bay. His fear. His doubt. His terror. When the Spider left, Corpus had been able to hold out against his captor’s automaton insects. It was their programming that made it possible. The swarm caused pain in patterns. Because Corpus knew what was coming, he could better steel himself against it. There was less anxiety and more knowing. A game almost. He’d had most of last night without the Spider and his unpredictable nature. But then, the killer himself had come back renewed and enraged. Had set to work with his knives again. No pattern. No rhythm. Just erratic torture from an erratic mind.
Suddenly, a beep made the Spider pause. He stood up straighter, letting his knife fall to his side. The creature lifted two fingers to his throat as if checking his pulse. What was there? The trigger for a comms device? The Spider stared into space, growling at whatever he saw with those eyes that no longer looked at Corpus. He then started laughing, deep and menacing and cruel. The Spider snapped back to attention, taking in his prey. He clicked his throat again and the map in the corner flickered to something else. The Feed. There was a news clip, showing a blurred figure leaving a crime scene. Senator Sheila Rommel came on next, saying that even though the authorities had the face of the killer, they didn’t know his identity. He could be anywhere.
‘They know what I look like, but not who I am, where I am,’ The Spider chuckled. ‘Anonymity really does have its own power, doesn’t it? No one will find me. Not even The Master knows my true location.’
That made Corpus jolt. The Master? So this beast was admitting he was being controlled in other ways. The reference made him think The Spider might be slipping.
‘They’re onto you,’ Corpus said, hopeful he could delay his torture some more. ‘They’ll be breaking down the door any moment. Some database somewhere has your face on it.’
The Spider really laughed now.
‘Oh no, no, no, no,’ he said. ‘That’s the thing about the military not many people realize. They keep secrets better than anyone. They even keep secrets from each other. The higher up it goes, the darker the black box gets. And I’m the darkest of them all. The one that got away. They won’t let that spider out for anything. If they owned up to me, they’d have to own up to breeding monsters.’
The Spider held up his knife, studying it. With a swift movement, he buried it into Corpus’s side. The agony and surprise jolted through his body as one. The Spider twisted the blade further.
‘Do you know how the United States Army tried to eliminate the growing problem of PTSD during the last war? How they tried to avoid payouts for breaking men and women? They realized that it wasn’t just the things you saw in war that tore you apart. It was the things you did. How could a country boy come to terms with his clean self-image if he’d killed a child in crossfire? What if the prom queen had to torture a prisoner for information that might save her platoon? What if you fell prey to bloodlust and raped the enemy as part of the spoils of war? But, but, but… what if you’d done it all already in simulations? Got used to it as part of a pilot program to desensitize you to those horrors. To make you immune to fear. To show you what you could do if the moment demanded it and come to terms with it beforehand? They taught us to claim it as the inevitable price of war. The inevitable price of victory. They taught us to bundle virtual and wartime experiences together and separate them apart from your life at home. Log into the game. Win. Log out and come back the same as when you left. They spun out the jack-in process so we never really knew if we were on a mission or if we were in a training exercise. But they never asked what if we grew to enjoy the game? To crave it, so you could feel like you were alive. What then? And what if you were injured in battle, thinking you might be able to log out and be whole again, only to realize your leg was gone for real? What then? What then?’
