From: rauser@fraser.sfu.ca (Richard John Rauser)
Subject: Contact
Date: 16 Jun 92 02:28:36 GMT
Contact
a story by Rick J. Rauser
(c) 1992 by WNI
"A faint, cold fear
Thrills through my veins."
-Shakespeare
My new life began when I opened my eyes and realized that I remembered
nothing. The room was small and cramped and covered in dust. I was cold
and naked. My clothes were lying in a crumpled heap on the floor. I picked
myself up off the steel table I was lying upon and tried to ignore my
throbbing head. My bare feet were chilled by the cold concrete of the floor.
There was a smashed robot crumpled in the far corner of the room, a needle
and syringe still clutched in one pincer. The blank optical lenses surveyed
the room with dead clarity. The robot scared me for some reason, though I
couldn't put my finger on it. I had a strange, disjointed memory of the thing
advancing towards me. I glanced back at the steel table, then back at the
syringe.
After brushing the dust off of my clothes and my naked body I got dressed
and sat back on the table while my head pounded. I couldn't remember my name,
age, anything. I had no idea where I was or what I was doing here. I could
recall nothing about my life, not family, job, or anything else that might
give me a clue. I was a faceless stranger in a strange land...and as I thought
of that metaphor I remembered a book I had once read, but the name of the
author escaped me.
The door, fortunately, was open. The hallway beyond was dark and musty.
Rust coated everything. The place reeked of age and decay.
I made my way down the hallway and through several corridors, all of which
were smashed and rotting. I saw skeletons with bony hands that still clutched
laser pistols, I saw the charred remains of blasted robots, and I saw doors
that had been literally ripped from their hinges, presumably by androids.
Strange memories floated through my minds which eluded me as I tried to grasp
them. I saw myself sitting at a desk, talking to an important looking man,
I saw myself holding a gun and sneaking down a dark corridor, I saw a little
girl strapped to a table...she was crying...
But the memories were only fragments and, in the end, told me nothing.
I was frustrated beyond description by the amnesia and continued to wander
through the massive, apparently deserted complex without weapon or equipment
of any kind, with nothing but the clothes on my back.
Another memory flashed through my mind, eluding my attempts to contain
it. I was wearing a dark jacket with bright lettering on the back, hiding
around a corner...
I came out of this memory facing a large oak door that was slightly ajar.
Peering carefully inside I saw a huge room, the walls lined from floor to
ceiling with books. There were several heavy oak tables in the center of
the room and the entire place reeked of age. Then I saw something else.
Sitting at one of the tables on the far side of the room was a
woman. She was flipping through a book and looked slightly nervous, though it
was difficult to make out exactly the expression on her face from this distance.
I stepped back and considered. She could be a guard at this place, and
perhaps I am a prisoner. Some of the best fighters, I reminded myself, are
females. On the other hand she could be like me...dazed, disoriented, not even
certain of why she is here. I surveyed the rusted walls around me and the
rows of dust-covered tomes inside the library. The oak door itself looked
aged and decayed. Common sense told me this place was no longer in use.
Everything I had seen thus far was either crumbling or smashed...even if the
woman were a guard, what would she still find here to protect?
I made up my mind and entered the library, walking slowly around the
rows of tables and piles of scattered books until I stood before her. She
glanced up and a look of surprise crossed her face.
"Hello there," she said. Up close she was more beautiful than I had
first realized. Her hair was a dark brown, tied back in a ponytail and her
eyes were a clear, sharp green. She was wearing a one-piece blue jumpsuit
and the top three buttons were modestly done up.
"Hi," I said carefully.
There was an awkward silence.
"Mind if I sit down?" I asked.
"Please do," she said with a smile.
I did so.
"So are you from around here?" she asked.
"Ah...you might say that." I studied her carefully, sizing her up. I saw
no sign of a weapon and she seemed perfectly relaxed, though like me, she was
guarded.
"I don't remember very much," she said with a nervous smile.
"Really? Amnesia?"
"I guess so."
"I don't remember anything either," I said with relief. It was good
to know I wasn't alone in this. "Just fragments, bits and pieces. I remember
something about a fight, and robots, and..." I paused, confused with teh
memory, and continued, "...and needles."
"I don't even know that much. Not even my name."
I considered this. I didn't remember my name either. "I've got the same
problem."
"Oh."
Silence.
"So...how about we try to get out of here?"
"That's not such a good idea," she said nervously.
"Why not?"
"There are robots running around. Jazebro Senel 500, I think."
I recognized that model name though I wasn't sure why. Deadly. I
considered. "Weapons?"
"I don't know. I haven't seen any."
I had seen some laser pistols clutched in dead hands from my initial
wanderings but they had all been rusted with age and decay.
I looked around the library again. The only door was the one I had
entered through. I walked to the door and pushed it shut then locked it
from the inside.
My knees began to feel weak and a throbbing started in my head.
Was I drugged? Chemicals? I grabbed the edge of one of the tables to steady
myself.
The woman walked towards me with concern on her face.
A high-pitched scream suddenly rang through those ancient metal
walls. She stopped and listened, her eyes wide with fright.
I was even weaker. I fell down.
She came running to my side.
All around us, the lights went out.
So did I.
Images. Children strapped to cold, metal tables. Robots. Screams. Blood.
I was running, I was horrified, I was looking through a window. A sea of
anguish and terror overwhelmed me as I glanced at something I could not
believe, that my mind could not accept. The buzzing of a saw...
When I woke up she was cradling my head in her lap, looking concerned.
She was beautiful, like an angel.
"I remember my name," she said quietly. "It's Carly."
I smiled weakly. "Hi, Carly."
I was sick from being drugged. I remembered that all at once.
Then I noticed we were in a different room. This one was smaller and was
bare of furnishings save three beds pressed against one wall - one of which I
was lying on - and a computer terminal on the other wall. There was dust
everywhere. A huge, hairy spider crawled casually across the terminal screen.
"Where are we?" I asked weakly.
She gently smoothed back my hair and said, "When you collapsed I carried
you out of the library. I figured this room would be safer. The door here is
electronically sealed. The Sentinels can't get in here."
"Assuming the doors still work. This place looks so old," I noted. My head
still hurt, but less so.
She smiled. "True."
I hesitated and sat up with great difficulty, somewhat reluctantly removingmy head from her lap. "You remember anything else?" I asked.
"No," she said.
For some reason I wasn't entirely certain that I believed her.
We stayed in that room for hours, trying to pull information out of
the terminal. It was hooked into what seemed to be a huge mainframe and it
confirmed my suspicion that the whatever this place we were trapped in was,
it was huge. The date, according to the computer, was 2083. The computer also
told us that all security systems had been activated on June 5, 2030 at 1:14am.
Carly asked the system why the security systems had been activated, and after
bypassing various security codes - I was amazed at her hacking skills, but she
had no memory of how she had aquired them - it told us that an outside force
had attacked the institution.
"Let me try," I said. Carly moved aside and I sat at the terminal.
"What is the purpose of this institution?" I typed.
INFORMATION CLASSIFIED appeared on the screen.
I glanced at Carly. "Can you bypass this?"
She shook her head. "It's some sort of CIA file. It's locked up tight."
"Can you call up some sort of floor plan?"
She nodded. "I can try." She took the keyboard and got to work.
"I'm going out for a bit, see if there's anything useful around here."
I walked to the door.
"Be careful," she said. I glanced back at her and she was looking at me
with genuine concern.
I gave her a half-smile in reply and walked out.
The hallway was like all the others, dark and musty and rusted with decay.
I walked as quietly as I could and tried to stay alert. I wasn't overly
worried about running into a Sentinel Droid, though perhaps I should have
been. What I wanted was to find a weapon.
Another memory came out of nowhere, briefly running through my mind with
mocking speed. I saw a long line of limbs, artificial, mechanical limbs,
submerged in stasis fluid. There were men in white lab coats...I remember
being tied down.
I stopped suddenly and leaned against the wall as my head once more began
pounding. I knew I had been drugged, and I felt quite certain that it was with
something that had been used to put me to sleep. Something the computer had
told us kept bothering me. The current date was 2083 and the computer had told
us that the installation -the complex - whatever, had been attacked in 2030.
Which raised an interesting question: How long had we been here? I kept seeing
images of this place without rusted walls or dust-covered tables, seeing
fully functional Sentinel droids and men in white lab coats. And children...
so many children.
Now there seemed to be nothing. Rust, dust, cobwebs, smashed equipment.
_And active Sentinel Droids_, I reminded myself. I considered that...
I had stepped into another room, not far from the library. There was a
stasis cocoon at the far end, inside which I saw a child. It was a girl, perhaps
eight or nine years of age. She was floating in the yellow-green hibernation
fluid. Electrodes were attached to her naked chest.
She had no arms. Bloody stumps dangling torn tissue were all I could see.
Her eyes were wide open, frozen in time. Her mouth was open wide in a
silent scream of horror.
She was dead.
I thought.
Carly was horrified at what I found and she drained the cocoon of the life
fluid. The little girl's body slumped to the bottom. I helped Carly open the
front and we carefully pulled the girl out. She was dead; Carly studied the
readouts on the cocoon and decided the hibernation fluid had been contaminated.
I stared at the girl's body. No arms. I felt a strange, numbing fear run
through my blood, a feeling that I was glimpsing something that I had no right
to see, something that would inevitably bring me to my death.
Carly was less philosophical. She said gently, "I think we should get back
to the room and get some rest. We're both in pretty strung out shape and we
should rest up before we do any more exploring." She paused. "We have to
try and get out of here." She touched my arm with her beautiful fingers.
"Yes," I said quietly. "Of course you're right."
We sealed the door and each took a bed and I fought back an urge to climb
into hers with her, knowing that she would, at the very best, not be overly
impressed. But even if she were receptive to sexual advances, there was a
feeling I had that it wouldn't be right, that there was something inherently
wrong with the idea.
She set the terminal to monitor for motion in the hall. "Hopefully this
will work," she said with a smile. "It should wake us up if there's something
moving out there."
I smiled back at her and went to sleep.
I saw a long assembly line. There were rows and rows of maintenance droids,too many to count, stationed at intervals along the impossibly long treadmill.
The treadmill was covered with blood.
Carly was standing there smiling. I turned to her and asked, horrified,
what was going on.
"43-90-87 Jazebro," she said with a smile.
I woke up in a cold sweat. The room was dark and silent around me, the
clear green letters on the terminal shining like tiny beacons. I looked over at
Carly. She was fast asleep, her beautiful auburn hair spilling over the pillow
like a child's.
"Michael," I said to myself quietly. "My name's Michael."
I fell back into a tormented slumber.
I wished there was more I could have told her but all I knew when we
awoke was that my name was Michael, and she seemed happy to know it. We
went exploring again. Every passage we followed was in the same state:
rust, decay, smashed robots, human bones, brittle with age.
We found more children. More cocoons. Some of them had no arms,
some no legs, some no eyes. We also came across a huge chamber which
had nothing but mechanical limbs. There was a human skeleton in one corner,
clutching a shotgun. I took the gun from the bony hands with careful
respect for the dead and inspected it carefully. It was loaded. I was
slightly surprised that I knew how to use it. It felt good.
We had just left the room when the door slid shut behind us, surprising
us both. Carly turned to the wall panel and hit a few buttons.
"Some sort of automatic lock-out," she said, more to herself than
to me.
Suddenly she screamed and jerked her hand away from the panel. At the
same time my brain registered the sound of a sharp crack. I turned and saw
a Sentinel droid down the corridor, a gun extended from its chest panel,
the barrel smoking.
Carly slid to the floor.
I cocked the shotgun and fired three times, blasting the droid
apart. The first two bursts tore the chest cavity to pieces, and the
third demolished the head.
It felt good to fire the gun but I was surprised at how proficient
I was at it. I had reacted on instinct alone.
I ran to Carly who was cradling her hand. "Are you okay?" I put down
the gun and crouched beside her.
She jerked away from me. "I'm fine," she said quickly. I saw her
wrapping the hand with some cloth but her back was now facing me and I
couldn't see for certain what she was doing.
"Let me help you," I said.
"I'm fine," she assured me. She stood up, keeping the hand inside
her jumpsuit. "It only knicked me."
"Are you sure?"
She smiled. "Yes."
I glanced down the hallway as I picked up the shotgun. "We better
not hang around here too long. I want to find the central control room,
if there is such a thing in this place. We should be able to call up
some floorplans and figure out how to get out of here."
"Yes," she agreed.
We walked for hours. All of the terminals we came across were smashed
and useless, and we got no further information from the terminal we had
been using before. One thing didn't change, however: there was no sign
of life.
Something else had been bothering me, something I had been unable
to put my finger on. I remembered walking through this place when it
was still active, fifty-three years ago. I wasn't sure how old I was,
but I doubted if I were over thirty-five. I had lain on that table
for fifty-three years. It made no sense. All I could guess was that
the drug I knew I had been injected with had put me in some sort of
comatose state. Something like that.
Questions, questions, questions. Carly didn't seem to have any.
She was beautiful, and brilliant, and brave, but she didn't seem to
have the same frustration that tormented me. She didn't seem afraid,
or confused. It bothered me.
The robots, the children, the factory. I knew there was a missing
piece to this puzzle. What it was I had no idea.
Carly stopped me. Up ahead there was a buzzing noise, echoing down
the dismal corridor, snapping me from my reflection. I held the shotgun
ready and carefully made my way down, Carly behind me.
It was a maintenance droid, repeatedly ramming itself into the wall.
The room here was large and cluttered with tables. Paper was scattered
everywhere. Some sort of office, I guessed.
The droid was comical, but harmless.
"This room looks familar," Carly said.
"Really? You know where we are?"
She nodded. "Yes, I think so." She gave my hand a squeeze. "Follow
me."
She led us through the office and down a flight of stairs, then
through another endless jumble of corridors and stairwells. But in the
end, she obviously knew what she was doing, because before long we found
the central control room.
There were about twenty or thirty terminals in a circle with chairs
facing each one. I counted ten skeletons slumped in the chairs, some
with rotted remains of clothing hanging from their bones, others with
nothing. I glanced up and saw about fifteen monitors affixed to the ceiling.
Two of them still displayed readouts of incomprehensible information.
"What can you do here?" I asked.
Carly laughed. "Just watch me." She made her way to one of the
terminals and flipped it on, then got to work. Within minutes she had
bypassed the front-line security and was calling up all sorts of charts.
"Carly, why do you suppose those children are in those cocoons?
Why are they all mutilated in some way?" It was the first time we had
brought the subject up.
She paused and half-turned from the screen. "I don't know," she
said in a somber tone.
"I keep having flashes," I said quietly, "seeing droids and the
children, and hearing screaming, and so much blood..." I trailed off.
Carly hesitated, then said, "Whatever was going on here, this
place has obviously been shut down. Let's focus on getting out before
we either die of thirst or get mauled by an active Sentinel Droid."
I nodded. "You're right."
She smiled gently. "We'll be all right."
"I know."
She got back to work and I sat down on the other side of the
chamber. My headache, thankfully, was diminishing and I felt that I was
getting over the drugs that were flowing through my system.
The children...the droids...and...
I remembered something else. I had snuck in here, into this
massive place, this towering (factory) in the middle of...the desert.
"We're in the middle of the desert," I said to Carly, excited with
this sudden knowledge.
"Arizona," she said.
I walked over to her. "What have you got?"
She sighed. "Not as much as I would have liked, but the basics.
We're somewhere in the Arizona Dune Sea, but our exact location is
classified. This place is called Population Rehabilitation Center #2234,
but its purpose is also classified."
I licked my lips. My heart was pounding in my chest. "What do you
think this place is for?" I asked her. I had been part of an infiltration...
had been captured...then a raid...I must have been missed...
"I'm not sure," she said. She hit another key and a detailed area
map appeared. "We're right above this area here," she said, pointing, "which
is Hanger Bay 4. According to this they store their ATVs there. We can
get one of those fired up and get the hell out of here."
"Phoenix?" I asked.
"A safe bet," she agreed.
Something was bothering me, nagging at me, something I still
couldn't remember. Absently, I said, "Great work." Then I hesitated
and kissed her.
She was surprised, but let me. Then she hesitated and put her
arms around my neck and kissed me thoroughly. We held each other for
what seemed like a long time.
"Let's go," I whispered.
"Okay," she smiled.
Who ran Population Rehabilitation Center #2234? The question pounded
at me over and over as we made our way to one of the ration supply rooms
Carly had found on the diagram. I knew that I had been part of a...a plan
to shut it down, to shut a lot of places like it down. But who ran them?
Was it the government? Was I part of the government also? Was I a criminal?
I remembered the raincoat with the bright lettering that I had
worn. I decided I had to find it.
"Carly, load up on the rations and take them down to the ATV.
I'll catch up in a minute. I have to find something first."
"What?" she said, confused.
"Something I lost." I handed her the shotgun. "I'll be back."
Using the terminal that Carly had fired up I located a room called
Subject Lockers. It rung a bell, triggering another memory. I checked
the location. It wasn't far away; two levels up.
There were hundreds of small lockers in this room, some of them
rusted shut, some smashed open. Needle in a haystack. I walked up and
down the rows for several minutes before finding one marked,
HATCHER, MICHAEL J. And I knew it was mine.
I pulled it open. Inside I found my dark blue raincoat. It said
FBI on the back in bright yellow letters. I also found a wallet and a
gun. The wallet contained fifty-six dollars and a driver's license as
well as a badge and an FBI I.D. card. The gun was an automatic pistol,
a Jazebro Mongoose. Powerful. FBI issue. I left the jacket and the
wallet but took the gun.
I searched the room for several minutes more but didn't find
a locker with Carly's name on it.
There's probably dozens, maybe even hundreds of rooms like this
one, I reminded myself.
Probably.
I had taken twenty minutes and decided I should get back to the
ATV before Carly started to worry. But I felt so close to that final,
elusive memory that I decided I had to do something else. I went back
to the Central Control room and sat down at the terminal again.
HELP, I typed.
READY, the system replied.
I considered. Carly had already said that the purpose of the
institution and the organization behind it were classified. So I tried
something different.
WHY IS PREVIOUSLY REQUESTED INFORMATION CLASSIFIED?
The answer to that question was also classified. I thought of
Carly's skill with the previous terminal and it bothered me that she
couldn't crack this one.
I sat at the terminal in complete frustration. The children
were used for their bodies, I reasoned, but also their minds. I thought
hard and remembered seeing something about cerebral implanting, or
memory implanting...something like that.
I noticed a cloth lying on the floor. I picked it up and
examined it, mildly puzzled. There was a faint, acrid scent and I
saw that it was soaked with a yellowish fluid. I dropped it.
I had been an FBI agent who had infiltrated this place, been
captured, then forgotten when the large-scale attack had been launched.
But who were we attacking?
And why?
I got up and left the terminal.
"I was about to come looking for you," Carly said, a pained
expression on her face. "What took so long?"
"I found a gun," I said with a smile. "I have a feeling the
worst isn't over."
"You're probably right," she said. She embraced me and I hugged
her back, enjoying her beautiful scent.
We settled back into our respective chairs. I started up the
engines and guided the ATV out through the gate. Carly punched up
some information on the navigation computer.
The desert before us stretched out for an eternity. The sky
was a bleak orange, the sun a faint blot in the distance.
Behind us, Population Rehabilitation Center #2234 clawed at
the sky, towering over us like a gnarled oak in a haunted forest.
It was huge. It looked like a small city.
I looked at Carly. "How's your hand?"
She smiled tenderly, rubbing it. "Better."
I saw that her bandage was gone.
That's when I understood.
I stared at her for a moment, then out at the vast, empty
desert.
The only question was, what do I do now?
--
Richard J. Rauser The Bat The Cat The Penguin
rauser@sfu.ca
WNI June 19
From: rauser@fraser.sfu.ca (Richard John Rauser)
Subject: Contact 2
Date: 16 Jun 92 02:28:59 GMT
Contact 2
a story by Rick J. Rauser
(c) 1992 by RJ Rauser and WNI
a Who Needs Isabella publication
this story is dedicated to everyone who enjoyed the first one, especially
those of you who emailed me about it. I appreciate your comments.
"That's their population control...it doesn't care who it kills."
-Jill from _Hardware_
"Machines don't understand sacrifice, and neither do morons."
-Chief from _Hardware_
"Michael?"
"Yes?"
"Is there something you aren't telling me?"
I glanced at Carly, taking my gaze from the eternal wasteland
around us. The ATV continued to rumble along happily on autodrive.
"What do you mean?" I wondered how well she could read me, if she
could see that I was hiding my fear of her.
Her expression seemed genuinely pained. "I get the feeling that
there's something you're holding back. Something you won't tell me, or,"
she turned away and looked out the window, "something you _can't_."
"What about you, Carly?" I said, a trace of annoyance in my voice.
"You got anything hidden in the old secrets box?"
She turned and looked at me, her beautiful green eyes shining with
confidence. "No."
I shrugged. "Okay."
The ride was long and quiet.
When I saw her again I wanted to ask her to forgive me because
I knew that I had been unfair and hadn't even asked her about her credit
card. Carly was there in the room and I smiled at her and told her I was
sorry and that I loved her. There were fish in a fishtank there but for
some reason there was something not right about them. Then Carly pulled
me to her and I kissed her and our tongues met and she pulled my shirt
off and-
I jerked awake in a cold sweat. The air conditioner was going
full blast, keeping the ATV a cool, comfortable temperature. I shifted
position on the couch and glanced up to the cockpit. Carly was sitting
in the passenger's seat, looking back at me. "Are you all right?" she
asked. "You were talking in your sleep."
Do you talk in your sleep, Carly? I asked myself. "I'm fine," I said
to her. "Just a strange dream. Not exactly a nightmare, but..." I trailed
off.
She paused. "We've both been through a lot."
"We sure have," I agreed.
"According to the nav computer, there's a settlement coming up in about
fifty miles or so."
"Big?"
"Not very. New Phoenix, it's called."
I frowned. I had never heard of it. I shrugged. "Well, make sure we
dont' stray off course." I had had a different nightmare before awakening
in the factory, something about drifting in space until I died after my
ship got off course. Strange.
Carly stood up and came back into the passenger compartment and
sat down beside me on the couch. She gently touched my shoulder, then ran
her fingers through my hair. It was electric, it sent chills down my
spine. I didn't want her to ever stop touching me. I put my fingers on
her hand and kissed it. Then I kissed her, slow and deep, and she melted
against me.
Do you talk in your sleep, Carly? The question kept running through
my mind.
For the time being, I ignored it.
We drove another twenty miles then decided to shut down the ATV and
get some sleep. The sun was sinking in the horizon and we didn't want the ATV
rumbling along on autodrive at night.
After securing the doors and shutting down the systems I crawled onto
the couch and made myself as comfortable as I could. Carly took the small bed
in the back.
She looked at me uncertainly and said, "Michael, I..."
I looked back at her from the couch.
"Nothing," she said finally, with disappointment in her voice.
"Good night, Carly," I said quietly. I wanted to sleep with her so badly
and I didn't think she would mind if I told her. But I didn't.
"Good night."
There was a long tunnel and the floor was littered with bones. I was
standing there with my FBI jacket on but I had no gun and I remembered that
I had left it in the ATV when returning from Florida. Carly was standing
a few feet away from me but there was something different about her but
I couldn't quite make out what it was because the tunnel was so dark. Then a
little girl walked up to me and asked me why she had to wait in the cold
room and I glanced up at Carly for the answer but Carly had no eyes, only
cold, red optical lenses and instead of hands there were just wires coming
out of her wrists and I remembered thinking how can she eat with wires
instead of hands?
I jumped up, my body drenched in sweat. Outside, the night was dark
and cold. The ATV was silent.
I drew the Mongoose from the holster beside the couch on pure instinct,
not even thinking about what I was doing. I spun around and pointed it at
the bed.
Carly was sitting on the edge of the bed, looking at me.
Trembling, I levelled the automatic pistol at her. The Mongoose fired
explosive shells, ten per clip.
Carly said nothing, and watched me silently. I could tell she was
naked, and she had the sheet wrapped around her shoulders.
"I know what you are," I said quietly. "I know you aren't human."
She started to say something, then stopped. She tilted her head a bit,
considering. Then she asked, "Is that why you point a gun at me?"
I hesitated. Why was I so afraid of her? I knew she was an android
and that androids were dangerously fast and incredibly strong, but why
did I think Carly posed a threat to me?
There was another memory that would account for the fear, if only
I knew what it was.
I kept the gun pointed at her. "No more lies, Carly," I said. "Tell me
what you are. Why were you back there. Tell me about the children."
"The children were killed," she said quietly. "They took out their
brains and used their memories for the androids."
"Like you," I said.
"Like me."
I thought for a moment. "What about the limbs? The robotic limbs?"
She shook her head slowly. "I'm not exactly sure. I think they used
the children for manual labour, implanting computer chips in their heads,
and used the limbs to make them stronger." She paused. "But I don't remember."
"Don't lie to me," I said, shaking. I hated the fact that she was
lying. But another side of me said that she wasn't.
"I'm not lying," she said quietly, and I saw tears in her eyes. "The
memory implants didn't work. I know what I am and where I came from. But
I still see images of this little girl in my head, birthday parties, pet
cats, dollhouses..." she trailed off, and I saw tears streaming down her
cheeks.
I kept the gun pointed at her. "Who runs that place?"
She looked up at me and her eyes were shining and she looked beautiful,
so beautiful, and sad, so very, very sad.
"The CIA," she said.
I slowly lowered the gun. Then I dropped it on the floor of the ATV.
It was too much. Just too much. I walked up to the cockpit and slumped down
heavily in the driver's seat. Outside, the night was cold and dark. Thick
black clouds blotted out the stars.
I heard Carly moving behind me and I wondered if she was picking up
the gun but I knew she wasn't. And then she was standing beside me, slightly
stooped because of the low ceiling, wearing a t-shirt and shorts from the
one of the ATV's lockers.
She hesitated, then sat on my lap and rested her head on my shoulder.
I didn't mind. I stared out blankly into the darkness.
Carly didn't say anything. There was nothing to be said.
We sat like that for a long time.
I woke up in that chair, the hot sun shining through the plexiglass.
Carly was still on my lap, cuddled against my chest. It felt good. I glanced
down at her face and saw that she was asleep. I guess she needs to sleep
after all, I thought.
I gently shook her awake and we started out for New Phoenix.
I didn't feel like talking about children, androids, or the CIA.
Neither did Carly.
New Phoenix, when we finally saw it, was a disappointment, to say the
least. It was nothing more than about twenty or so tin shacks tied together
with barbed wire and crude welding. A battered wooden sign at the outskirts
of the village read "New Phoenix, pop.302". Beneath it someone had scrawled
"Have a bad day."
The ATV rumbled up to the shacks and I shut it down. I saw about twenty
people approaching us, wearing rags, their faces stricken with dust and grime.
Carly and I looked like aristocrats by comparison.
"Should we take the guns?" she asked, uncertain.
I considered. "No, I'll go out and talk to them. But cover me."
She nodded and reached for the shotgun, but I handed her the Mongoose instead.
She smiled warmly at me.
I slid open the door and stepped out of the air conditioned compartment
into the stifling, incredible heat. The orange sky hung heavy all around us,
and thick clouds of grey ash blotted out most of the sun.
"Who are you?" someone called out. I turned and saw a large man
clutching an axe. He seemed to be the leader. His hair was long and dirty and
he wore a black bandana.
"FBI," I said.
Everyone laughed.
"FBI, huh?" he said, swaggering close to me. His knuckles were white
as he clutched the axe. "I don't think the FBI has a lot a say-so around here."
I decided it couldn't hurt to be more honest. "I woke up a couple of
days ago in this...factory, about one hundred miles from here. That's where
I got this ATV. I have very little memory of what happened to me, but I
do remember that I was, at one time, with the FBI."
He stopped and considered. "Lotta bad things out in that desert."
"Yes," I said. It then occured to me that these people probably had
no idea what I was talking about. They probably didn't even know what the FBI
was.
Carly stepped down and joined me, holding the Mongoose. "We'd like a
place to sleep, and some food and water, if you can spare it. And information."
The man sized up Carly with a leer that angered me. Then he said,
"Well, I guess you folks better come on in."
Hesitantly, we did so. The man's name was John.
Within half an hour I discovered two things about these people.
They were hospitable. Although initially they were afraid of us - or at
least cautious - as we spent more time with them that evening we inferred
that they were actually flattered by our presence. The second was that they
were totally ignorant. None of them had left their village since birth
and all they knew of the outside world was that it was dangerous and that
there were strange, "clean" people like Carly and I - that's what he called
us, clean. Probably the most frightening piece of news came from the fact
that one of the older men - Jared, his name was - remembered something about a
bright flash of light, many years ago, which had been followed by endless
snow, grey snow, falling for months and months.
John confessed to me later that he didn't know what "FBI" meant, and so
I asked him why he had said that the FBI had no "say-so" in New Phoenix.
He laughed and told me that he guessed I meant God, and that by
saying I was FBI, I was saying I was God, and since John knew I wasn't
God, he said that to refute me.
The FBI, God. It was kind of funny.
I couldn't help but wonder what John would think of the CIA.
The offered us a place to spend the night but we decided our ATV would
be more comfortable (and safer). We locked ourselves inside. These people
seemed friendly, yet I didn't trust them. There was something...unusual.
And even though I knew she could take care of herself, it still bothered me
the way the men looked at Carly.
We sat on the couch, feeling a bit awkward. Then something entered
my mind, a memory that came back to me all at once, and I smiled in spite
of myself.
"What is it?" Carly asked.
I slowly shook my head, enjoying the memory. I said to her, thoughtfully,
"Close your eyes, and I'll kiss you."
She smiled and closed her eyes. But I didn't kiss her. Instead, I
put my hands on her shoulders, pulled her close to me, and continued.
"Tomorrow I'll miss you. Remember I'll always be true."
She opened her eyes and looked at me, slightly confused. "Is that a
poem?"
"And when while I'm away, I'll write home every day, and I'll send
all my loving to you."
Her face glowed. I gently pulled her even closer, until our faces
were only inches apart. "I'll pretend that I'm kissing the lips I am
missing, and hope that my dreams will come true," I continued.
"And when while I'm away," Carly said quietly, "I'll write home
every day, and I'll send all my loving to you."
"Right," I said. I felt weak being so close to her. She was
stunning. Her beautiful green eyes, her full red lips, her beautiful
auburn hair, her smooth, perfect skin. "It's a song."
"Who wrote it?"
"I don't remember." I hesitated, then kissed her, and did my best
to show her that although I didn't write the words, I meant them with
all my heart.
There were doubtless times in Shakespeare's life when he would
awake with a burst of inspiration and hurriedly write down a brilliant
line that had occured to him in his sleep, or perhaps Einstien had
moments of insight when he suddenly realized a key aspect of his
formulas and physics which put all his other problems into perspective.
This was exactly what happened to me later that night when I awoke
in the darkness. I got off the couch and glanced back at Carly, who
was still sleeping soundly in the bed.
Why would the CIA make androids? The question had passed through
my mind before but I had never really considered it. But it was so
obvious. Carly, although undoubtably brilliant, was not educated. After
all, hadn't they tried (and failed) to give her a child's memories
and make her unaware of her true origins and identity?
Her main attributes were physical. Androids were strong, and fast,
and tough. Very tough. An android could snap an ordinary person's neck
and not even break a sweat.
My knowledge of the CIA was coming back to me slowly, but in large
fragments, and I knew what the CIA needed powerful androids for. Not for
breaking down the doors of drug dealers, like the DEA, or investigating
federal offenses, like the FBI.
The CIA needed assassins.
I looked back at Carly as she slept so soundly, so peacefully.
I wondered how many killing techniques she had had programmed into her
brain, how many different ways she could break my neck without my
even knowing it. I wondered if she could kill someone with a pen, or
a paperclip, or a sheet of paper.
Human CIA agents could do that. Carly would certainly be able to
do much more.
Should I ask her about assassination? Perhaps she didn't even
remember it.
Perhaps she did.
I thought about it for at least an hour, and kept wanting to wake
her up and ask her about it, but decided against it.
I went back to sleep.
My back to the wall, I kicked open the door. "FBI, drop it!"
The woman pointed her gun at me and I fired, putting two bullets
through her heart. I entered the house and glanced around. I heard my
fellow agents coming through the back door on the other side.
"BASTARDS!" I half-turned in time to see a huge man, stinking
of alcohol, lunging at me from the kitchen. He slapped the gun out of
my hand and we landed heavily on the floor. I went straight for his eyes
but he was too fast and pinned my wrists down.
Then a gun was pressed to his face. It was Rasquez. "Just give me
a reason, Sammy," he said with complete sincerity. Sammy Johnson - he named
himself after the poet - the leader of the largest kiddie porn ring on
the West Coast, froze. Three more agents pulled him off of me.
The rest of the house was secured in seconds. I went back outside.
Three of the children that had been locked in the basement were
outside talking to some of the agents. I went up to a little girl who
looked about eight or nine. She was sipping some hot chocolate one of
the female agents gave to her (I couldn't remember the agent's name)
and sobbing quietly.
"Are you all right?" I asked her.
"Yes," she said in a small voice. Then she said, "I kept asking God
to send someone to help me and he did."
I looked at the female agent and we both smiled. "Yes, I guess he
did, didn't he?" I said.
A shot jerked me awake. Automatic weapons. Is Carly real or part
of my dream? What about the...
I fell off the couch and landed heavily on the floor of the ATV.
I was back in the future. Outside, the darkness of the night was being
shattered by automatic gunfire.
Carly was already beside me. "What's going on?" she said, sounding
worried. But not afraid. I grabbed the Mongoose and moved to the cockpit,
keeping my head down.
Outside I saw three jeeps outlined in the darkness, each with a
bright spotlight and a laser cannon mounted on the back. I heard a
helicopter somewhere above but couldn't see anything. More lights were
shining down from the sky.
Moving through the tin shacks of New Phoenix I saw at least a
dozen men in uniforms with machine guns, mowing down everything in sight.
Women. Children. I saw a man lunge at a guard with an axe before being
cut apart and I was certain it was John.
I heard laughter. Laughter.
"Carly," I whispered, my voice hoarse.
"Don't move," she advised. "They'll kill us if we get in the way."
Then I saw flamethrowers and the shacks were on fire, an amazing
series of blazes that lit up the night.
Then there was a pounding on the hatch. "Come out with your hands
up," a serious voice said.
I looked at Carly. "What do you think?" I was scared. She was calm.
"If they were going to shoot at us, they would have done it by
now, I think," she said.
I hesitated, then walked to the main hatch and kicked it open.
I held the Mongoose at my side. A powerful light was shone in my face.
"Drop the gun," the voice said.
I did so.
"Who are you?"
"FBI," I said.
"The FBI was disbanded years ago," the voice said, patiently.
"All I remember is that I'm FBI. I woke up in the factory about
a hundred miles from here."
A pause. "What about the woman?"
"Her too."
Silence. I could barely make out muffled discussion amongst the
soldiers (I assumed, for no good reason, that they were soldiers).
Then the voice said, "All right, get back in the ATV and keep
the door shut. We'll be finished here in five minutes. You aren't
psions so we have no business with you."
I started to ask another question but the soldiers moved off,
just like that.
The gunfire was dying down now.
I could barely make out some of the jeeps driving away into the
darkness. The spotlights were going out, one by one.
I heard roaring fires and the occasional snapping of gunfire.
But no more voices. No cries of pain.
I was completely stunned, numbed, paralyzed.
"Let's close the door," Carly said gently, "and get out of here."
"Carly, we..."
"They'll kill us too, Michael, if we get in the way. They aren't
going to leave anyone alive here. There's nothing we can do." She spoke
in a gentle, reassuring whisper.
Deep down inside, I knew she was right.
We closed the door. Clank.
Outside I heard explosions. Boom.
I sank to the floor of the ATV and stared into the darkness.
Carly sat beside me and put her arm around me.
We were alone in the darkness.
Our friends outside were being slaughtered by the enemy.
There was nothing left. The fire had destroyed everything. I saw
a few charred skeletons and endless piles of burnt scrap but nothing
else.
The faint orange blur in the horizon was just starting to poke
through ash-laden clouds. I looked back at Carly. "We did the wrong thing,
hiding like we did."
"No we didn't," she assured me in a gentle voice. "If we had tried
to interfere, we'd be dead too."
"I'd rather die on my feet than hide on my knees."
She took a step towards me. "Don't talk like that," she said
ernestly. "I don't want to lose you...to lose us."
"Psions," I said quietly, more to myself than her. "Is that illegal
now? What the hell is happening? The FBI disbanded?"
But I knew what had happened. The flash of light, years ago.
"We have to go, Michael," she said quietly, gently touching my
arm."
"Yeah." But where?
Two hours later we were driving through the desert once more.
It was Carly who first noticed the helicopter. It was flying behind us,
low to the ground, about 200 yards or so back.
"I guess they decided they do have some business with us after
all," I said, not really surprised. Nothing would surprise me anymore.
Then I saw two more, off to the right.
"Stop your vehicle, turn off the engine, and come out with your
hands raised," a voice said over our radio.
I looked at Carly. "I'm not stopping, Carly."
"I don't want you to," she said. She put her hand on mine and
squeezed it gently.
There was a cliff about ten miles away which extended on both
sides for about fifty miles. There were four more helicopters now.
Whatever had changed their minds about us was obviously something
significant. Of course the thought passed through my mind. Was it Carly
they wanted?
I didn't really care. Because I wanted her too.
We kept driving. I hit the throttle and we roared through that
dusty ground, kicking up pebbles and small cacti.
"What are we going to do?" she asked me.
"I honestly don't know," I replied. I looked over at her. "I'm
sorry, Carly."
"You don't have anything to be sorry about."
The voice kept demanding we stop and I turned off the radio.
It wasn't long before the cliff was before us and I slammed on
the brakes.
Two of the helicopters set down and the other five hovered
around us. I stared in dismay as four armed guards got off one of
the helicopters. I wasn't really surprised to see the CIA crest on
the side door as they climbed out.
"Don't stop, Michael," Carly said softly. I saw tears in her eyes.
"What?" I stared at her, amazed.
"It's me they're here for. But I don't want to give in to them."
"Carly, I..."
She gently touched her hand to my mouth. "I want you, and I want
us to be together. Any way we can."
I took her hand in mine and kissed it. The guards were closer
now, carefully approaching the ATV. "Are you sure?"
"Yes, Michael," she said, and a peaceful smile came across her
face.
"Close your eyes..." I said quietly. She did so.
I squeezed her hand then kissed her.
Then I pressed the accelerator. I just had time to see a look
of horror and shock on the face of one of the guards before we sailed
over the cliff. Then we were flying, flying to a place where there were
no children in pain, no assassins, no guns, no fires, and no CIA.
I love you, Carly, I thought. I knew she knew.
Close your eyes and I'll kiss you...
Tomorrow I'll miss you...
Remember, I'll always be true...
And when while I'm away,
I'll write home every day,
And send all my loving to you.
--
Richard J. Rauser Holli Would If She Could
rauser@sfu.ca
WNI Cool World
From: rauser@fraser.sfu.ca (Richard John Rauser)
Subject: Contact 3
Date: 16 Jun 92 02:29:18 GMT
Contact 3
a story by Rick J. Rauser
(c) 1992 by RJ Rauser and WNI
a Who Needs Isabella publication
(author's note: read the first two, else this won't make much sense!)
"Oh Lord, I pray you'd give me strength to carry on,
Because I know what it means
To walk along the lonely street of dreams."
-Whitesnake
"Here I go again..."
-Whitesnake
"Get this garbage out of here...wait...that's right."
(Close your eyes and I'll kiss you...)
"Careful...chopper's coming."
"Is the mask on? The mask?"
"Got it, here."
(Tomorrow I'll miss you...)
"Help me get this door off, no, wait, use the torch. Right."
(Remember I'll always be true...)
"I have a caucasian male, approximately thirty years of age..."
(And when while I'm away...)
"A caucasian female, approximately twenty-five years of age..."
(I'll write home every day...)
"Get the stretcher in place...good. Secure...lock...okay, are you
guys ready up there?"
"Ready, go."
"All right, lift."
(And I'll send all my loving to you.)
"Okay, they're secure. Good job. Let's get them out of here."
Amidst the constantly swaying images and fragements that tumbled through
my tired mind there was a strange, steady beeping. I saw Carly, I saw the
factory, I saw a little girl I didn't recognize, I saw a towering skyscraper,
I saw a green rabbit studying a watch, I saw a beach, I saw Bugs Bunny.
Just random images, nothing making any sense, everything meshed together
and flowing like the tide. Carly was sitting beside me, then I was talking
to Bugs Bunny and trying to figure out why the skyscraper was falling down,
then I was walking on the beach...through it all I heard a steady beeping...
...I opened my eyes and felt pain in my entire body. There were heavy
bandages on my arm and around my forehead. A machine beside me was beeping
steadily.
The room was white and had that sterile scent one associates with
hospitals. My lips were dry and parched, and weakly I licked them.
"Hello there," a kind voice said. I turned and saw a nurse with the
typical false maternal smile. She rubbed a damp swab of cotton on my arm
and produced a needle. "I'm going to inject you. It will sting for a second
or two." She inserted the needle with a gentle poke. I watched the fluid
seep into my veins.
"What's...that?" I croaked.
"Pain killer. You were pretty smashed up. You'll be all right now,
though." She smiled.
"Carly?" I said her name more to myself than the nurse.
"Oh, your friend? She's fine. I don't know where they took her, though."
I knew. At least, I thought I did. "Where am I?"
The nurse seemed pleased at the chance for conversation. "You're in
the City Hospital of Seattle."
"Seattle?" That made no sense to me. "What about...the desert?"
"The desert?" she seemed momentarily confused, then smiled that
maddening smile. "Yes, they found you crashed out there. Good thing you
went over in a military ATV." She chuckled as if reminiscing about her
grandchildren. "Hardly dented it. You, on the other hand, took some damage."
"Where's Carly?" I repeated the question. My head, which had been\
swimming with pain and confusion, was starting to feel better after the
painkiller she had injected me with.
She hesitated, then said, "I really don't know that much about your
situation. There is a gentleman here to see you who will answer
all your questions. Are you up for it?"
I sighed. This had to be some kind of nightmare. All I wanted was to
be alone with Carly.
But what choice did I have? "Send him in."
The guy was wearing one of those cheap suits with the tie slightly
loose. If anyone looked more like a rat than a human, it was that guy.
His hair was slicked back and his teeth were yellow from cigarette tar.
I could barely make out the bulge of a gun in his jacket.
"Special Agent Michael Hatcher," he said smoothly. "Are you feeling
better?"
"Sure," I said absently. "How are you?"
He grinned. "Oh, I'm fine, thanks." He took a seat and gave the
nurse a look that said "Leave the room, now." She did.
"Where's Carly?" I asked.
"Do you know where you are?" he said, ignoring me.
"Seattle."
He nodded. "Yes, Seattle. Do you know why? After all, your failed
suicide attempt was out in Arizona. Why would we fly you all the way
up to Seattle?"
I shrugged. All I cared about was Carly.
"I'll tell you, then. CIA headquarters is in Seattle."
"I thought it was Langley."
He looked confused, then shook his head and chuckled. "I keep forgetting,
you're fifty years out of date. You're thinking pre-war, Michael. CIA moved
after the big, big one."
"Oh," I said. "I want Carly."
He nodded and tried to look as if he cared about me. "Michael, there's
a few things I have to tell you about Carly. First of all, she's an android."
"And a beautiful one at that. I love her for it."
He was a professional, I'll give him that. He tried not to show his
surprise at the fact that I already knew about Carly. He hesitated, but
only for a second. "She's also an assassin."
"I had inferred that much," I said truthfully.
He ran a grubby hand through his oily hair and said, "We have a
problem. You see, after the war, CIA lost almost all of our information
and projects regarding android technology, which, you may recall, was
fairly new when you were still an FBI agent."
I nodded. Androids were nothing unusual in my old life, but they
were rare and the technology was new.
"Carly," he continued, "is a valuble commodity to us. She-"
I grabbed his tie and jerked him towards me. This completely shocked
him. My body ached with the effort but I didn't care. He reached for his
gun but I grabbed the wrist and squeezed the pressure points that even
an FBI agent knows about. He yelped. "Don't you ever call her that," I said
angrily. "I love Carly. She's not a commodity." I let go of his tie and
sank back to the pillow with exhaustion. I was half-hoping he'd shoot
me.
He re-adjusted his tie and grinned. Bastard. "Sorry. As I was
saying, Carly is...valuble to us. You see, most of the androids we
developed before the war were disfunctional. Some worked, of course,
but those that did have slipped through our fingers or been destroyed.
The war, of course, wiped out what we had left of the technology and
we've had to start from scratch, running around for the past fifty
years. The world, by the way, is in a real mess, Michael. The United States
as we knew it doesn't exist anymore. It's now divided into five separate
spheres of influence. The CIA controls just about-"
"Listen," I said, cutting him off. "I don't give a damn about the
CIA or what the world has become since I spent the last fifty years in
deep sleep in a CIA butcher shop. All I care about, is Carly. Where is
she?" I hesitated, then added, "Please."
He sighed and leaned back in his chair. "Carly was injured in the
ATV crash, but not badly. Her shoulders and right leg were damaged, but
we patched her up, good as new. She WAS in our analysis center, here in
Seattle. We had to run tests, study her brain pattern, memory, you know,
see what she's made of." He paused, licked his lips nervously, then
continued. "The bad news is, she escaped two hours ago."
I couldn't help but grin. "That's my girl."
For the first time, he lost his cool. He glared at me. "You think
this is a joke? Well, let me tell you something. She killed three agents
during her escape."
I leaned forward and spoke quietly and seriously. "I hope it hurt."
He snorted. "FBI. You dickheads never change. You're all so
self-righteous." He cracked his knuckles and paused, then said, "I want
you to do us a favour. When Carly comes to you...and she will...you let
us know."
"I suppose you've got men in the hospital waiting for her."
He laughed. "Hell, no. Carly isn't that stupid. She's not going
to come in here, knowing the risk. She's a machine, Michael. She doesn't
gamble. She's a brilliant computer."
"My Carly isn't a machine," I said evenly.
He shrugged. "Frankly, I don't care what you think you have with
her. All I'm saying is, you let us know if she finds you."
"Sure I will," I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm.
He grinned wickedly. "Fine. Do whatever you want. Let me tell you
something, Hatcher. You aren't in Kansas anymore. You are in Seattle,
2083 A.D. You have no identity, no money, nothing but the clothes in that
closet," he said gesturing. "So you rot in hell. And after you've roamed
the streets for a few days, look us up. We'll not only feed you, we'll
give you some clean clothes. And if you help us get Carly, we might even
give you a job."
I stared at him. The impact of his words slowly sunk in. He was
right. Where did I have to go? How would I eat? What would I do?
"Good-bye, Special Agent Hatcher." He got up and walked to the
door.
It occured to me that I didn't even know his name. "What's your
name?"
He turned back and grinned. "Fansworth. Agent Fansworth of the CIA."
He seemed to like saying "CIA".
He walked out.
I sunk back in bed, cursing GM for building such a strong, sturdy,
shock-proof ATV.
My next visitor was the nurse. She injected me with more drugs.
I didn't really mind. I slept.
The sea was an endless blur before me, it stretched out as far as
the eye could see. The angry waves pounded on the jagged rocks below,
roaring in steady cadence. The scent of the salty water hung beautifully
in the air and the gentle mist from a barely perceptable rain gently
cascaded around me.
Such a perfect, perfect place.
"Nice, isn't it?" said a beautiful, familiar voice.
I turned and smiled warmly at her. She was wearing a heavy
white sweater and her beautiful hair was hanging freely around her
shoulders.
"I don't ever want to leave here," I said as she came and stood
beside me.
"We won't," she promised me.
Peacefully I opened my eyes and was so horribly disappointed to
see the dismal hospital room. I felt like crying out in frustration.
THe bandages were gone. I was stiff and sore, but felt much
better. I wondered how much time had passed. I felt my face and hair...
barely any facial hair, and my hair didn't feel any longer. Must only
have been a day or two.
Then I looked up and saw Carly.
She was wearing a nurse's uniform, her beautiful hair tied back
and tucked into the small hat. She was holding a tray with a glass of water
on it.
She smiled. "Would you like a drink of water, Mr. Hatcher?"
I stared at her in amazement. "What are you doing here?"
She put down the tray and handed me the water, leaning close to me
as she did. She whispered, "Meet me at Feodor's in an hour. We can't talk
here. Too many ears."
She gently kissed my ear then stood up and said, "There's something
under the bed for you."
She walked to the door. I couldn't believe it. She was incredible.
"I love you," I said.
She turned back and smiled warmly at me. "I love you, too."
Then she was gone.
I climbed out of bed slowly, ignoring my aching bones. I reached
under the bed and pulled out a shoebox. Inside the shoebox was a Jazebro
Lexicon automatic handgun, a heavy, powerful weapon. I opened the clip
and examined it. Hollow-tip bullets, twenty per clip. I snapped it shut.
I moved to the closet and got dressed, then stuffed the gun
in my jacket.
In spite of the danger, I was whistling when I left the room.
As I left the hospital I walked past a Catholic Cathedral. It was
a massive, two-hundred year old structure that towered over me, reaching
with its ancient spires into a grey, dismal sky. I stopped and stared up
at it. I felt drawn inside.
It was dimy lit inside, with only burning candles providing
any light, placed along the sides of the pews and up at the altar. I walked
down the aisle slowly and carefully, feeling terribly conspicuous. There were
two nuns at the front of the church, talking quietly, and I saw a priest
near the back, speaking with an ordinary looking man in a suit. No one
noticed me.
My footsteps echoed throughout the ancient building.
I sat in a pew near the front and looked up at the huge crucifix
in wonder.
"I did the wrong thing, hitting the accelerator," I said quietly.
The church was silent around me, yet vibrant with a life and
energy I had never experienced.
"Give me the strength to get out of here," I said. I sat there
for awhile longer without speaking.
I heard footsteps behind me and someone sat down in the pew
behind me.
I turned around and saw Fansworth. He grinned and bowed his
head mockingly.
"Special Agent Hatcher."
"Agent Fansworth."
"Have you spoken with Carly yet?"
"If I say no you'll think I'm lying no matter what the truth is."
He snickered. "You're both going to die."
"We're all going to die," I said. "The question is, how do you
want to go?"
He stared at me.
"When I die, I'm going to die on my feet," I said calmly. "Someone
like you, Fansworth, will die on your knees. On your knees."
I stood up and left the church. I crossed myself before the
crucifix, and that surprised me because I didn't even remember what the
gesture was until I did it.
Fansworth was still sitting there when I stepped outside.
Feodor's was one of those clubs that's so noisy you're amazed
that anyone actually goes there to have fun. Cigarette smoke hung in the
air, half-naked women paraded around in a pathetic display, searching
for tricks, and the loud, steady pounding of rock and roll smashed into
your ears from the live band, dressed in leather and chains on the
grimy stage.
I walked up to the bar and glanced around in disgust.
"What you have?" the bartender asked me.
"I don't drink."
"Two drink minimum," he said tiredly.
"Two coffees, then."
He snorted. "Big spender, huh?"
"Add a club soda to that," said my girl's beautiful voice.
I turned and saw her seated beside me. She was stunning, wearing
a bright red leather jacket and tight-fitting jeans with black leather
boots. Her hair was hanging freely around her shoulders and her lips
were a bright, enticing red.
I felt so happy to see her. The memory of the ATV and the despair
we had both felt seemed like a distant nightmare.
"How's my girl?" I said quietly.
"Much better now, thank you," she said, beaming at me, giving
me that electrifying smile. "How are you?"
"Not bad," I said. "Not bad at all."
She leaned over and kissed me and we savoured each other's
tongues for a few brief, beautiful moments. Then I said, seriously, "I let
you down."
"What do you mean?" She looked at me, confused.
"I drove us over that cliff. I gave up."
"We both gave up," she said quietly. "We saw no other choice.
Besides, if we hadn't driven over the cliff, it might have been a lot worse
for us. I only managed to escape because the security at analysis was so
poor. If I had come out with my hands up they might have stuck me in
someplace more heavily guarded, with more agents and fewer doctors. And
instead of being content to send you to a hospital, they might have l ocked
you up."
"As always, you're probably right," I said thoughtfully. "But
the fact remains, I wanted for us to die, Carly. We can't do that anymore.
Life is too important."
"Didn't you say you'd rather die on your feet than hide on
your knees?" she said gently.
"Yeah. But suicide isn't dying on your feet." My coffee arrived
and so did her club soda. I picked up my cup and sipped. "What do we do
now?"
"Now," she said thoughtfully, "it gets tricky. CIA will be looking
for us everywhere."
"I know," I agreed. "But they aren't going to stop us now."
"No, they aren't." She paused, then with a mischievious smile said,
"I've got transportation waiting outside."
"I assume you aquired it in the same way you got those clothes?"
She laughed. "And the guns."
"Don't you realize you're talking to an FBI Special Agent? I might have
to arrest you for robbery."
"The FBI was disbanded years ago. Now, you're just an outlaw, like me."
"Then let's get the hell out of here, fellow outlaw."
"I thought you'd never ask."
She put money on the table for the drinks.
I paused, then said, "That ATV sure was tough, wasn't it?"
She looked at me for a second, then we both laughed.
We stepped outside into the grimy, crowded street and I saw the
hovercar Carly had stolen parked at the curb.
I walked over to the passenger's side and swung the door up.
Suddenly I heard someone across the street yell, "CIA! FREEZE!"
I spun around and saw Fansworth running towards us from the corner
on the other side of the street, followed by another CIA agent, a woman.
They both had guns drawn, and Fansworth was aiming his at me.
"I got him," I heard Carly say. I turned back and saw her carefully
aiming her gun at Fansworth.
I realized that I had pulled mine out, on pure instinct. I knocked
hers aside. "No," I said. "Let's go, let's go!" I didn't want to get into
a shooting match with these CIA thugs in the middle of a crowded street.
I climbed into the hovercar and Carly did the same, slamming down her
door.
I heard gunfire.
My window shattered and I ducked my head down.
Carly hit the throttle and we were slowly lifting off.
"FREEZE!" Fansworth yelled again, as if we actually would.
We passed the yellow altitude markers on the buildings around us
and Carly pushed the hovercar into drive, racing forward. She quickly
punched in a safe route and steered around a looming skyscraper.
I turned back through the shattered window and saw another hovercar
lifting off in pursuit, Fansworth driving, the woman in the passenger's
seat.
"I don't believe this," I said in disgust.
"Hang on," Carly said. She jacked hard on the wheel and we nearly did
a barrel roll. I wasn't sure how these things were meant to be driven but
I hoped she wouldn't crack it up (hovercars, like androids, were not in
wide use fifty years ago).
Fansworth knew how to fly. His craft greedily clung to our tail.
I turned back and pointed the Lexicon out the window and squeezed
off three shots. The first two went wild from the wind, and the third
shattered a Pepsi-Cola electric billboard behind Fansworth's craft. I saw
him swerve to avoid the fire.
"Turn!" Carly yelled, again spinning our craft wildly to a sharp
angle. I hung on and looked out the window again.
"Take us up, up!" I said to her, noting that we were still at only
half the height of most of the huge buildings around us.
"Where is he?" she said, trying to look back and drive at the
same time.
"He's still behind us," I yelled as the wind from the shattered
window blasted in my face. I aimed the gun with both hands and fired three
more times. One of the bullets hit their windshield and Fansworth jerked
wildly on the wheel to regain control.
Carly increased our speed and took us down about twenty feet, then
banked hard to the right, flying between a narrow gap between two concrete
towers. ILLEGAL FLIGHT PATH said a bright yellow sign.
"Traffic violation!" I said, laughing at the irony.
Carly half-smiled and banked to the left. Boy, could she drive.
I peered out the window again and saw that Fansworth had manouvered
between the buildings and was just above us, about twenty feet back. I began
to get really angry.
"Slow us down, just a bit," I said. Carly did so and Fansworth's craft
grew closer. I fired three shots, all three of them connected with his
craft, poking small holes in the hovercar's metal belly.
"Damn him!" I said, realizing that the underside was too heavily
armoured. "Faster, take us up! We have to get above him!" I yelled over
the wind.
I had eleven bullets left in the clip. I wanted to bring down Fansworth
without having to use Carly's gun. Call it ego.
Carly hit our throttle again and we surged forward and banked hard
to the right as an ancient hotel loomed before us. I caught a brief glimpse
of the sign, SEATTLE WESTON PACIFIC HOTEL.
I heard the crack of gunfire and saw two of the windows in the hotel
explode, then realized that the woman agent was firing at us as Fansworth
flew them in behind us.
Carly adjusted our flight pattern on the nav computer then jacked us
up. We sailed over the roof of the Weston and I turned back and fired at
Fansworth, who was now beneath and behind us. Four shots, two went wild,
and two connected. The first shattered his front headlamp, and the second
exploded his windsheild.
He hit the airbrakes and his craft careened wildly.
"Slow down," I yelled.
Carly did so.
I leaned out and fired three more shots. One of them missed, and the
next two hit Fansworth square in the chest. I saw two quick spots of
dark blood on his suit before his craft swerved wildly out of control.
I saw the female agent frantically reaching for the wheel but it was
too late.
The CIA hovercar smashed down into the roof of the Seattle Weston
Pacific, then exploded. The flaming wreckage teetered for an instant
on the edge of the roof, then fell down fifty stories to the street,
trailing black smoke.
Carly took us up into the clouds and opened up the throttle.
"I got you," I said quietly, leaning back in the seat as the
adrenalin pumped through me. "I got you."
I was glad I hadn't seen the burning craft land on the crowded street.
"Nice flying," I said to Carly. I gently touched her cheek.
"Nice shooting," she said as she kissed my hand.
We said no more about the skychase or the CIA.
Two hours later we were in the Seattle International Airport. Carly
was at the information desk trying to find out which flights would be
leaving soon. I sat there and thought about what was going on. The events
of the past few days suddenly hit me like a freight train, swimming through
my head in a pounding rush.
A few days? Is that all it had been? A few days in my new life?
I looked over at the counter where Carly was standing, talking to
the weasel-faced information clerk. Was Carly really an android? She
had to be, I told myself. I had found the cloth in the factory she had
wrapped her hand with, the one soaked with some sort of fluid, not blood.
Android blood. Besides, she herself had said she was an android.
That factory's sole purpose was to make androids. And of course, there
was Fansworth. He had confirmed my suspicions. He was a CIA thug and
a greasy killer, but I knew he hadn't been lying.
That's when I asked myself, for the first time, that single, all
important question: did it bother me?
I looked at Carly and asked myself if it bothered me, deep down
inside that she was an android, and a trained CIA assassin at that.
I was frustrated to find that I really didn't know.
She *may* be human, I told myself. Wouldn't the CIA have a vested
interest in her believing herself to be an android? Perhaps to keep her
focused on her duties, or to...
I shook my head. Too much thinking. I remembered something from
my FBI training courses when I was just a blueflame rookie: Always relax
before a raid. Seemed like strange advice, but it worked. Always relax,
and don't think too much. You'll get shot if you do.
I wondered if the FBI ever used androids...
Was I in that factory for a reason?
I was interupted by Carly. She sat down beside me and said
playfully, "You seem to have a lot on your mind."
"Too much," I agreed.
"Want to talk?"
"Later."
"Okay." She produced two tickets. "How does Canada sound?"
"I'll give anything a try," I said with a weak smile. "Carly,
everything we've been through...it's never going to end, is it?"
"What do you mean?" her smile faded.
"You're too valuble to the CIA for them to just forget and give up.
They'll follow us wherever we go."
She edged closer to me until our faces were only inches apart.
"You're right, Michael. They will. And maybe one day they'll catch us.
The question is, do we want to die on our feet, or hide on our knees?"
I couldn't help but smile. "Neither. I want to live on my feet."
She laughed. "Then let's do it. Remember the one crucial piece of
information the CIA tells all its agents: If they catch you, you'll be
stabbed, shot, tortured, imprisoned, hung, incinerated, brainwashed,
and a million things you can't imagine."
I raised an eyebrow at this half-serious list.
"But first," she continued, "they have to catch you."
And there, I realized, was the rub. They'd never catch us. They
could send a thousand Fansworths after us, and we'd shoot down every one.
"How'd you get so smart?" I asked her.
She smiled. "I'm an android. We're much smarter than you."
Maybe we both are, I thought to myself. But I didn't say it.
Instead, I squeezed her hand and kissed her. "Let's get out there.
Canada's waiting."
I walked out with Carly, hand in hand. I loved that woman, and
as each day passes I love her even more.
Our plane was boarding outside and we walked down the ramp amidst
the throng of people. I looked down at my flesh and then up at the vast,
endless sky. I knew I had a soul. And I had realized how important it
was, how priceless. No more driving off cliffs for me. I smiled at
the thought.
"I love you," Carly said teasingly.
"Love you more," I said back. I hugged her as we stepped aboard
the plane and put our tickets in the slot.
I knew that things would never end, that no matter where we went
or what we did, there would always be a Fansworth to come after us.
Let him come.
Let them all come.
We sat down in our comfortable seats. I glanced out the window
and saw that much to surprise the thick grey clouds were actually
breaking apart, and over on the west side of the city a few rays
of sunlight were becoming visible through the fog.
--
Richard J. Rauser Holli Would If She Could
rauser@sfu.ca
WNI Cool World
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