Glow, p.30
Glow, page 30
Like Simmorta, Glow had limitations. It didn’t interface directly with the brain. Instead, it talked to it through the senses and the nerves, pulling strings and offering bribes through the highs and lows of pain and relief. It observed the host’s actions, gleaning information from the thought waves generated by mass-neuronal firings, similar to the way a brain scanner or mind-reading AI worked.
This firewall between the brain and somanet forced the creation of a parallel control system: an emergent mind on a drug substrate, a smart parasite, that not only controlled its host… it became its host!
Glow grew a mind.
No, it grew several minds! Jett saw the nodes in clusters, glowworms, shadows of dead hosts, and Niros had hundreds. How is he still sane? Niros was a trove of memories. Gathering these memories was Jett’s shortcut to wisdom without the need for direct experience.
Systems failing. Shut down imminent!
The network tripped into an alarm state. Niros spasmed, muscles went rigid, blood pressure soared, bursting vessels throughout his body and brain.
It’s killing him! The network will survive and move to a new host, but it’s killing this host, punishing it for letting an intruder inside. No wonder Glow was so addictive. Any attempt to infiltrate, change or remove the drug triggered destruction.
Jett snapped back to reality, the heat of so much processing had boiled away most of Niros’s outer flesh exposing bone and skeletal implants. As Niros’s heart stopped, Jett plunged back inside, unable to deny the pull of curiosity, but the network was dark, all communications ceased. The nodes drifted apart, breaking connections with their host and with each other, migrating outward to Niros’s skin, ready to hitch a ride to the next body and reassemble back into the same network, animating Niros and all his fellow glowworms back to abstract life.
Jett dropped Niros’s body, now a lifeless sack of blood and bone. His infiltration filaments whipped free and rewound into fingers and facial skin. The real world seemed oddly empty and devoid of sensation.
“Yellow,” he roared. “Get in here and clean this mess up.”
Yellow bumbled into the room, eyes fixed on Niros’s remains. “Time for a new lich?”
“Bring me Glow addicts,” Jett said, “lots of them.”
CHAPTER 34
Waking the Dead
Many new faces confronted Ellayna as she raced through Cloud9’s medical wing on the way to the prison. “How can Del be dead?” she raged, but Martin had no answers.
“Come see,” was all he said.
She shouldered past hordes of stumbling elderly people. Confused and blinking at the lights, tongues circling their dry lips. They bumbled around repeating comforting phrases, some angry at being roused, but most just confused. A few screamed, as if reality was a terrifying simulation from which they couldn’t escape. Martin had woken everybody as instructed, and some hadn’t experienced reality in years. Perhaps they’d forgotten what and where reality was.
She pushed past doctors and guards, blank-faced staff and orderlies just staring into space. Past Edvard Narlins, Del’s personal physician, corralled in a corner by armed guards. She wasn’t sure if they protected him or prevented him from leaving.
“Show me,” she demanded, almost unable to look at Del’s face. Holding her breath, she leaned over expecting something ghastly, but Del didn’t look any different from when she’d last seen him.
A pasty-faced tech in a white coat stood rigid next to Del. His name tag read, Touse. “He’s been brain dead for some time.”
“How long?” Ellayna asked, her eyes scanning the rows of monitoring equipment, whose lines and numbers still danced as if the man was very much alive.
“Months, maybe years, I can’t tell. Life support keeps his body breathing and nourished, and Simmorta keeps him within a range of age-appropriate parameters. We’d never have known he was dead if we hadn’t tried to force him awake.”
“But I was talking with him in VR just days ago.” Everyone stared at her as if she had lost her mind. She waved at Del’s vital signs that appeared to stir at her presence. “He has brain activity.”
“His scans have been rigged to show healthy, normal activity.” Touse’s hand swept across the monitors. “According to this, he’s thinking thoughts consistent with someone active in VR. But it’s just a recording on a very long loop so no one notices the repetition.”
Ellayna walked over to Narlins. She caught herself brushing against people, desperately seeking that comforting touch of flesh, confirmation that this was real.
“You knew about this,” she said, pushing her face close to Narlins. “You must have. Why?”
He looked away, chewing his lip thoughtfully.
“Here’s something.” Touse probed at Del’s head with a spoon-shaped scanner. As she stared, he turned Del’s head sideways and riffled through his hair, parting the strands with dexterous fingers. “These marks, he’s had surgery on his skull. It’s healed well, but left clues behind.”
Touse wrapped a scanner sheath around Del’s head and synced its signals to a nearby instrument. Images of Del’s brain appeared in glorious three-dimensional color hovering over his body. Touse spun and zoomed, taking cues from an AI that flagged anomalies for closer investigation.
Ellayna gripped Touse’s shoulder as he worked, needing the warm, reassurance of flesh to convince her this was real and not some nightmare VR.
Touse raised an eyebrow, the nearest thing to bewilderment he seemed capable of expressing. “There’s a lot of damage in here, empty space where there shouldn’t be. I see signs of deliberate ablation, possibly attempts to remove certain memories or skill sets. Maybe even to reduce or totally destroy conscious awareness.”
“What in God’s name have you done to him?” Ellayna yelled at Narlins.
“I followed orders,” he snarled. “While you all slept or sat around counting your shares, I was here, working towards the future Del fought for.”
“And what did you do, exactly?” Touse asked.
Narlins hung his head and closed his eyes. “That’s for you to figure out.”
Touse nodded as if expecting such resistance. “Here are some very precise cuts severing the bundles of nerves that connect functional regions of the brain strongly associated with consciousness.”
“He turned Del into a zombie?” Ellayna said, aghast.
“Consciousness ablation surgery was not an uncommon means of mental suicide a few decades ago. Leaving the body and memories alive but removing any further experience of existence. There are chemical means to achieve the same effect, but they damage surrounding tissue. This is precision sectioning.”
“And this gap here?” Ellayna pointed to the egg-sized hole in Del’s prefrontal cortex.
Touse shrugged. “Del was very fond of his Star-River. I’d bet money that he had it implanted into his head. If he could interface with it, then it would be like having a colossal alternative reality generator on hand.”
Ellayna shook her head, none of this made sense. As obsessed by the Star-River as Del had become, implanting it in his brain and getting his sidekick to kill him was beyond insanity.
Silence settled around the room, everyone stared at Narlins. She stabbed a finger at his chest. “Search his quarters and search this prison thoroughly. Find the Star-River and any clues about why this has happened.”
She saw Narlins smirk and knew they wouldn’t find anything. The only person who could give her answers was Del. “Martin, fire up the VR servers again, but no one is allowed inside, only me.”
“Ellayna?”
“I think the answers we need are in VR. If you can keep me alive and sane long enough to find them.”
“Sell what you know, honey. World’s full of suckers. Don’t be one of them.” Medlin’s voice played over and over inside Mira’s mind like a nagging glowworm as she left the Ron King Shelter and wandered the fringes of Spare Part Row. Her feet took her to Corba Park, a small, quiet haven of trees and grass away from the main street mayhem. The world outside the hostel had indeed changed, just as crazy Medlin had told her. The sky was falling, voter-bots trawled the crowds, and the Alliance was coming, coming to fix everything and make Coriolis whole again.
She felt the Glow inside of her, a dormant volcano of festering lava. Tiny machines just working her body, fixing, rearranging… plotting. Time was running out. She had the answer, a plan, and it all started with selling what she knew: information. All she needed was a buyer and a different, darker set of glowworms told her who and where that buyer should be.
She felt empty and alone, so when the voice she’d been searching for finally came, it felt like a relief even though she knew it probably meant death.
“Is that really you, Mira?” Yellow said, clattering across the park. One of his metal arms hung limp by his side. His leg movements strained and erratic. As he drew closer, she saw his face, puffed and bruised. More than the usual amount of blue fluid leaked from his eyes. She drew some satisfaction that he was suffering too. If anyone deserved pain and anguish it was him.
“Have you come to pay me, Mira? Cash or body parts?” He stopped in front of her and looked her up and down critically but spared her his usual scathing evaluation.
“You once told me that information about the lich, Auld, would be worth something to Thorne. I have very interesting news, Yellow, valuable news.” She opened her eyes wide, hoping to spark interest.
“Well, that’s great, Mira. We can swing by the office. He would love to talk to you about it, I’m sure.”
“I’d rather just exchange it now for cash, you know, pay my debt. And maybe have some extra left over to get a place, a job. Try to get my life back.”
That laugh again. “Mira, Mira, just how valuable is this information?”
She dropped into silence, suddenly confused about what she was doing, exactly what she was selling. Maybe that wasn’t the plan she’d conceived of earlier, maybe it was to get another fix, clear her head, then find a doctor, then yes, get clean. But she needed the fix first. “It is valuable, Yell. But if you can’t do cash, I’ll take a fix instead.”
“Can’t do either, Mira. New rules. Thorne opted for early retirement. In an epiphany of entrepreneurialism, he decided to apply his ample brains to a new floor lubricating product. My new boss – lovely guy, unique personality – is eager to meet with all our clients to discuss business deals. I’ll take you to him.” The little man’s eyes bobbed wildly. Mira swore he was drooling with excitement.
“I’d rather just tell you what I know about Auld coming for us again and hope you can see me good.” Her voice trembled as other options sprung to mind: lie, fight, rob him, go with him. What could go wrong? Maybe this new boss would see her point of view.
“The new boss doesn’t let us have product for the streets anymore, Mira. You need to come to the office. It’s a new form of hands-on management that he’s very into.” Yellow’s body-frame heaved in what could be a shrug. “That’s the best offer I can make. Take it or leave it.” He attempted to launch away in a dramatic exit, but a whirring, slipping sound came from inside his leg harness and he stalled. He slapped a motor somewhere near his thigh, something engaged, and he lurched off across the park.
Mira followed. There was really no reason to trust him, but she could always run if she changed her mind. She doubted his troubled looking mechanics would be able to catch her.
She walked a few paces behind as he tripped and stumbled through the streets, until he fell completely, clattering into a heap of metal and limbs to lay still and silent, blue tears rolling down his cheek.
“The wonders of modern technology,” he sighed, struggling to untangle his limbs. Mira watched, frustration mounting. Her body needed Glow. Now. And watching Yellow floundering across the ground wasn’t getting her any closer. The long-faded urge to help fellow humans resurfaced and she offered him an arm to grab and pull back onto his feet.
Yellow fell again, and once more she found it easier to aid him, not questioning her safety at all. Fear diminished, her feet felt lighter, just two old companions strolling arm-in-arm, going to see the new boss, make friends, get a real fix. Am I being drugged?
At Trendle Tower she saw militia uniforms hustling around an elevator shaft set into a ground floor wall. She tried to pause, to take stock of the situation, but her legs kept moving. She noticed she was supporting Yellow less and less, and that his powerful grip now clamped firmly to her upper arm, sweeping her along at a swift pace.
A massive man in a suit frisked them both and escorted them inside the elevator where a hulking machine-trooper loomed over them making asthmatic breathing noises.
The brisk acceleration felt like flying and she wanted to sing. Relaxed, warm, committed, it was all over bar the shouting. And the screaming, and the pain–
Yellow’s drug wore off. “What happened?” she asked, suddenly confused about how and why she was there.
“I lovingly administered an antidote, Mira. Wouldn’t want you to miss any of the fun.”
Her warm security fell away into panic. “I’ve changed my mind.” She tried to free her arm. “I’ll just phone in the information. I won’t claim any rewards. Just–” The arm remained rigid, unmovable, and Yellow’s viselike grip ratcheted tighter, compressing her boney arm like sponge.
“Unacceptable, Mira, you fucked me over, and now you’ll pay.” His grin changed from that of a close friend to that of one anticipating something deliciously horrible.
The elevator door opened, and he pushed her out into a corridor. She looked around at the smashed rooms, the walls coated with drying blood. The stench penetrated even her doped senses. She stumbled past a room full of corpses, all horribly mutilated and stacked in mounds, flies coated everything, erupting in clouds as she passed. “This is Hell,” she said through her tears.
“Hell has nothing on this place, Mira. Believe me, I’ve worked in both.”
Her legs returned to her control, exquisite timing on Yellow’s behalf. She fought him, thrashing at his face, opening old wounds, fingers jabbing at his eyes. He bobbed and ducked, letting her maim him but never escape his grip. Perhaps it was his self-inflicted punishment for what he was doing to her, or maybe he liked it, needed it.
Yellow banged on a closed door with Mira’s forehead, exerting just enough force to sound their arrival and knock some fight out of her.
“What?” A dark voice rumbled from inside.
“I have another loyal Glow customer here, as you requested.”
An unintelligible grunt signaled Yellow to enter. He pushed the door open and leaned close to whisper in her ear. “Goodbye, Mira.” His cyborg arm whined and complained at the sudden application of torque as he threw her bodily into the office.
Mira tumbled inside, the will to stand or fight had left. She lay hunched on the ground just counting breaths, and then, with a sharp snort of resignation, she looked up.
A shadow filled the room behind a battered desk, vaguely human in shape, light shone through its fibers, although its head was solid, a leering black crystal skull mottled with fibrous flesh. Black eyes stared back from sockets that appeared just a little too big for the orbs. The creature’s fingers were as long as her forearm, curling over the desk like giant spider’s legs.
Yellow spoke calmly from behind her. “Mira, meet Jett. Jett, this is Mira.” She heard the door slam and a chuckle from Yellow as he whirred away.
She took another look at the hellish apparition and burst into laughter. “Oh, this is great,” she chuckled. “Just really fucking great.”
CHAPTER 35
Game Theory of Mind
Ellayna returned to the mountains, to the foot of virtual Ben Nevis only to find that things had changed. All life was gone. Flint-dry air barreled across sterile, gray dust and granite. Only the blueness of the sky told her that this was not the surface of the Moon.
She climbed anyway. It felt good, so much better than pounding the corridors of Cloud9. Enjoy, she thought. At any moment the bugs will come, the fall will begin, and something new and horrific the Alliance has cooked up will manifest and try to take my life. The whole GFC watched as if under a spell, but would that be enough, or did the Alliance have other tools of destruction in its arsenal?
“Come on, Del. I know you’re here. What is this place? Your vision of Earth after the man-versus-simulation apocalypse?”
The ground ahead heaved, turning like a stone vortex and rising into the sky. She rehearsed her escape sequence, smelled the lavender, chanted the cat song, conjured the bees, and practice-swatted at her thigh. Pointless exercises, but comforting.
The vortex closed in, enveloping her in a soft aircushion that lifted her from the ground. Suddenly she was flying through cold, damp clouds, and then dropping through different air loaded with the nuances of life. Below, the world was green, a magical hand rolled back the destruction, sprinkling trees and fields over the dry rocky bones.
The aeolian hand deposited her on a wooden balcony that wrapped around the entire pinnacle of a mountain, a different, more rugged mountain. A glorious cabin perched behind on the peak, window-eyes gazing off in all directions over jagged snowcaps that stabbed at the clouds, but none as tall as that on which she stood, next to Del.
“Better, Elly?” His smile comforted. Her life had crashed. Del was dead, and yet, through the marvels of GFC technology, he remained. She shook away old feelings and reminded herself that he was not real. At best, he was a repository of answers, at worst, just another trap.
