“I like to think so, but in any case, you’re wrong. I’m a full-standing member of my organization, it’s just…” His eyes clouded slightly and he took his seat again. “You don’t really know anything about them, or what they can do. Or at least, one in particular…”
Caleb let that go. “Say whatever you want, but just move this along.” Caleb took a step closer, staring down at him. “Now I agree with you that we’re wasting time.”
“Good, then let’s progress and see if what my fellows have in store for you is even possible.” He looked Caleb up and down. “I have my doubts. Always have, despite your illustrious — or maybe just lucky — career.”
“Thanks for the confidence.”
“Admit it, you had a lot of luck fall your way.”
“No, I had a lot of good friends. An excellent team. It was them, more than me.”
“Such humility, but yeah, I buy that. Nina. Xavier. Even your little sis showed you up and saved your bacon more times than not.” Boris cocked his head and his lip curled up. “I bet you’re wondering about them.”
“Of course. I know you have them. Hopefully not tormenting them as much as you’re annoying me.”
“Oh, I think you know not all of you birds had their wings clipped.”
“Good. Hope you tire yourselves out trying to catch the ones that flew off.”
“We’ll get the ones that count, but for now — yeah, let’s stay on track. One more test, one more objective for you.”
“Great, back to school.”
“More like a job interview. My turn to have you prove your worth.”
“If I pass, what do I win? What kind of shitty benefits and wages do you offer?”
“Your life, for starters.”
Caleb shrugged. “Not sure that will matter much if your ‘ends’ do really coincide with the ones Calderon sought. You have to know I’ll never get on board with anything like that.”
“I don’t know. Like I said, a different dress. Sex it up a little, or maybe…” Boris stood up, then reached and tapped Caleb on the forehead with his index finger. “Maybe, just maybe I’ll pull the wool from your eyes so you can see the truth that’s been right in front of you, and maybe you’ll find yourself doubting everything you think you know about me, about our plans.”
Caleb flinched and backed away.
“Get on with it.”
“Very well. Very simple. I’ll give you the objective, and you? You do your thing.”
“Go on.”
“Don’t look around. You don’t need pencils and paper.”
“I know. More worried that whatever I look for won’t matter because of what you can do. How do I trust anything?”
“Oh stop worrying. I promise not to meddle. Just you promise to only look at what you’re supposed to be looking for. And believe me, I can tell. I can read your thoughts by the way…”
“What?”
Read them, came the reply in his head. Just as I can project thoughts.
Synthetic telepathy? Caleb thought.
“Exactly,” Boris said. Multiple uses, my gift has. “Now are you getting it?”
Caleb cursed inwardly and tried to keep his mind blank. “Ok then. I’ll stay on target. What is it?”
“Simple enough. Focus on what you were trying to do before I got here.”
“Finding out where I am? I know — or think I know — it’s Australia.”
“But where? Big place, mate.” He grinned and walked to the window and glanced out. “Simple, easy, but with one additional thought to guide you. Once you learn where you are, ask yourself one question.”
The woodpecker tap tap tapping had stopped and the silence dragged out.
“Why?”
8
I’m in the Matrix.
After Nina’s departure, Orlando kept telling himself that one fact.
Not quite Matrix-like actually but close enough, Orlando figured, that he could experience one of his favorite fantasy scenarios:
Becoming one with the machine.
He was in the system, deep in a virtual world of code and algorithm, of logistical AI and rigorous probabilities.
His body — not really there, just an amorphous collection of alpha-numeric code, swirling in a vaguely translucent humanoid shape — scuttled ahead as if on awkward legs. A newborn, just getting used to motion and his abilities, he nonetheless reveled in the power, the freedom. Testing the parameters of this dream-experience, or whatever it was.
He recalled notions of sensory deprivation, of unwilling (or willing) volunteers in government programs, fed various hallucinatory drugs and deprived of all senses, trying to wake other ones. Was that it? Or some combination of that plus an attempt to merge with an artificial consciousness?
Whatever it was, dream or mad science, he figured it wasn’t too bad.
Unable to wake, Orlando decided, Heck, time to just enjoy myself and go with it.
Sometime later, he remembered that he had a previous life, a body, a wife (someone who was far too pretty and smart to be with him), and now, even twin babies.
Where were they?
He reached out in a way he now remembered he could — through his mind, but now something strange happened. The numbers, the code — all changed color. Streams of data pulsed and spun in several directions, lancing out like probes.
Psychic, he remembered. I’m psychic.
Then he remembered something else. Men with guns. Coming for him, for Phoebe. For his friends.
Captured.
And now, this…
They want to see what makes little old’ me tick.
He continued to learn the mechanics of his environment — now with the added feature of his mind’s reach. The psychic element…maybe that was it. They were testing him, but unknowingly these muggles had unleashed something neither of them expected.
Self-awareness. Control.
His psychic aspect had to be interacting with the computer program. Merging human mind and AI. Were they trying to do this, but unaware of the potential consequences?
Maybe they underestimated how many hours I’ve played in virtual worlds, gaming away half my life or more. If anyone could be comfortable in this environment, it was Orlando.
Now, time to do some recon, and see what I’ve got access to.
Hopefully this computer was part of the larger defense network, one he could scout out, probe for an entrance point, work his way in and…
Orlando sent out his thoughts again. After focusing on what he remembered through years of on-the-job training. An Objective.
There were many possible choices, and he really had to hold back on the one he really wanted — checking to see if these goons had any surveillance on his children, confirming that they were safe.
I’ll check back on you soon.
Now he had another target, one that was key to all of this, key to saving their collective hides.
He had allies out there, allies that weren’t incarcerated. Allies that needed his help. They were flying blind, fighting up against national and probably world governments at this point. Everybody against him and his friends.
Not if he could help it.
He could now see the access points, the network trails, the special files, encrypted and locked, but still somehow transparent to his mind’s eye.
He could see them, tempting and beckoning like golden fruit. Here was Caleb Crowe’s file, near the top of the tree. Something different about that one, more heavily locked down, with thorny blockages and potential alarms of such sophistication that Orlando finally doubted his skills, so he turned to the proverbial lower hanging fruit.