James faced the door that blocked the path to the SHOCKS database. It loomed over him, an impossibly large steel barrier made from ones and zeros. Those he was familiar with—he’d built them, after all, with the help of SHOCKS’s electronic warfare experts. And beyond that, of course, was the void space, where even binary ceased.
The Halcyon System was limitless but incredibly limited at the same time.
Even with computing power in the millions of teraflops, he was barely scratching its potential. A thousand of him couldn’t interface with it all, and he didn’t bother to try. Almost his entire circuit over its rivers of code, past the blockchain that spanned gaps between mountains, and into the thickets that caught tens of trillions of viruses in their security briars, he spent pondering the trap he and Claire were in, the simulations almost his whole mind was focused on running in the background, and the door.
He needed a way in. Behind that door was a wealth of information: decades of SHOCKS research notes, audio and video records of interviews and test batteries, and recordings of the e-warfare team’s meetings with him. And he’d locked himself off from it all, then had Claire throw away the key.
He laughed at the irony, then stopped when Claire finished reading the note. He paused the hundreds of simulations depicting her fighting, outsmarting, or fleeing from the few anomalies she’d faced, and instead fired up one hyperrealistic simulation.
What would Claire most likely do with the information on the note? And how could James’s limited knowledge help her make the right decisions?
He didn’t know, but with any luck, the simulation would help.
[Beginning Simulation Batch Omega-Eight-A]
[Dataset: Multiple Locations, Clarice Alora Pendleton’s Perspective, Various Supplements]
[Beginning Simulation 1/754,200,452,120]
As the ones and zeros filled his processors, James turned what was left of his attention back to the door.
----------------------------------------
Outside Aberdeen Hospital, Victoria, British Columbia - May 30, 2043, 12:17 PM
- - - - -
“I don’t care. I’m not going back in there,” I say. I’m already walking away from the brick-and-shake-shingle building, the doctor’s note in my pocket and the all-too-real lollipop in my hand. “All Doctor Dwyer has to do is play along, and he’ll be fine, right?”
[Uh…]
I stop and glare at the sky, my hands on my hips. My jaw already hurts; I haven’t talked this much in months. “James! Tell me the truth.”
[Okay, here goes. If Carl’s a main character, he’ll be okay. But main characters don’t usually take on roles they’re not suited for, and it’s a hospital. There are plenty of doctors here. The merge grabbed him because he was close, the same as you. You got lucky, though, because the only roles left were bit characters and extras. Zeta and Omega roles, in the database.]
“So, you’re saying…” I trail off, stopping. The hospital looms across the street, its dark, curtained windows staring back at me, and its ivy-covered walls don’t look elegant or charming so much as ominous.
[I’m not telling you what to do. But depending on how lethal ‘Aberdeen Hospital’ is, he might not make it out. And if you got out, you’re not part of the storyline anymore.]
“Okay. And…what does that mean? Have you ever put someone who’s not part of a storyline back into one?”
[Uh, yes. We’ve sent teams back into ‘Funeral Bells’ and ‘High School Story.’]
“What happened?”
James pauses. I clear my throat, and he speaks hesitantly. [SHOCKS has records of the ‘High School Story’ re-incursion. The story’s genre switches if that happens. In that one, it turned into a horror movie. The Alpha subjects reacted to the returning people as though they were monsters, fleeing, fighting, and fortifying rooms to keep the team out. In the end, we lost half the team to hostile action. The ‘Funeral Bells’ re-incursion was…worse.]
"Could the team fight back?” I think back to the security guard, the door, and even Doctor Dwyer.
[Yes. But when they started to, it only got more horror-like for the Alpha, Zeta, and Omega roles. If you’re planning on going back in, try being subtle. If it’s the same, it’ll feel like you’re the monster in a psychological horror film instead of a slasher. And you’ll have to fight less of them.]
I’m still not sure about this, and I sit down to stare at the building. My boots tap on the asphalt, and my fingers tap on my knees; in the distance, I can hear an ambulance’s sirens howling, and down the street, a few dogs bark, but Victoria’s quiet. I run the numbers. Numbers don’t lie.
X in this equation is the storyline anomaly. It’s weird that James hasn’t given it a name and number yet. He obviously knows more about it than he’s told me, though, and that’s concerning. Does that count as a lie? I’m not sure, honestly. But since he doesn’t claim to know anything about ‘Aberdeen Hospital,’ it’s just going to have to stay X.
Y is Victoria as a whole. It doesn’t match the SHOCKS records at all. They said it was lost, on its way to being destroyed. They said people were evacuating. But that’s not what I’m seeing—people are holed up in their houses and apartments, but most aren’t leaving. So, if that’s the case, is Merge Prime as bad as SHOCKS said it was? Or is it about to get bad, and I just can’t tell yet? I’d ask James, but he doesn’t know. Without his connection to the SHOCKS database, there’s a lot he doesn’t know.
And Z is me.
I don’t know enough about me—about my powers…my Skills. If I had more of them, I’d be able to do this. If I’d gone with Dad instead of poking around that thinning, I wouldn’t have to. So, even though I hate that I’m a variable, here I am.
I push the math aside. If I had an hour, I could puzzle through it. But I don’t.
“Got it.” I take a deep breath, send another aug text that won’t get through to Alice, letting her know I’ve been delayed again, and stand up.
[New Inquiry: What’s happened to Doctor Dwyer?]
----------------------------------------
The first hint that something’s not right happens as I step through the door.
Doctor Dwyer’s waiting in reception. With one of those wheeled gurneys patients lie down on. He smiles at me. “Thank God you’re back. We know what’s wrong with you—we need to get you to treatment, stat!”
Something about his smile is…wrong. I step back toward the door, but the security guard’s already in the way, and I can’t fight him. James is whispering in my aug, [Hold on, something’s off here. Just play along for now. I’m trying to remember the other storylines because re-incurring actors are always treated as a genre shift. Always.]
I smile back shakily. “Thanks, doc. I’ll walk, though. I don’t feel that bad, really.”
“I have to insis—“ Dwyer twitches. Convulses. His teeth bare for a moment, almost ferally, like he’s a monster. Then, all at once, he’s back to his ‘normal’ self. “Fine. Just hurry. Exam room thirty-seven. I’m getting the implements we’ll need.”
He smiles again. There it is. He had a mask on the entire time we were in the same room. So did the receptionist and the security guard. Everyone had a mask the first time I was here, and now it seems like no one does.
A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
I try not to flinch. Instead, I hurry toward the elevator. Last time, I took the stairs, but I need a moment or two by myself with James. The door shuts, and I push the button for floor three. “Okay, James, this is not what you said would happen! I’m still in the storyline, they’re not treating me like a monster, and I’m not sure why the masks are off.”
[Hold on. I’m processing.] Sometimes, I forget James is a digital thing. He’s a person, yes, but sometimes, he doesn’t act like one. The seconds go by as the elevator raises, until suddenly, he shouts in my ear, [Emergency stop! Now!]
I jam my fist into the button, and the elevator slams to a stop, tossing me onto the floor. James is talking before I can pick myself up or ask what’s happening. [The genre shifted the moment you walked onto the hospital property. I don’t think it’s a hospital drama anymore. It’s become a hospital horror show. I’m trying to figure out what the other merges did to the storylines, too.]
An alarm’s howling. It won’t stop, reminding me of the ones in the SHOCKS Headquarters. That gives me an idea. “James, how do the storylines sustain themselves? Is the merge still open? Or was it an instant change like when I got the Revolver?”
[The merge is open somewhere. Why?]
“I’m thinking, but it’s not a plan yet. Just an idea. Could we shut down the merge?”
[Not without a Universal Reality Anchor. That’d probably have the power to do it.]
“West End High had one. Where’s the Aberdeen Hospital one?” The thing exists. It has to. They wouldn’t protect a school and not a hospital. I bite down the gnawing feeling in my stomach.
[I’m not sure. Without SHOCKS database access, I can’t pull up the blueprints. Probably either in the basement or up high. Neither sounds like a good idea because when Doctor Dwyer finds you, you don’t want to be cornered.]
“Then he won’t find us. Up. We’ll go up.” I press the sixth-floor button, and the elevator starts moving again. It crawls up toward the top floor—at least from what I counted—and I can hear it grinding and humming. Whatever implements Doctor Dwyer’s getting, I hope it takes him a while.
Finally, after an eternity that’s almost surely less than a minute, the elevator door opens onto a completely sterile floor. Not clean—the rest of Aberdeen Hospital’s been clean, whether you use Alice’s standard, my somewhat less serious one, or Mrs. Lightsen’s ‘chaos is clean’ mentality. Sterile. Like there hasn’t been a person up here in weeks, except for the cleaning lady or janitor. Every machine is perfectly polished; I can see my reflection in the chrome.
I start making my way through the rows of medical machinery, all facing the elevator door. Somewhere in this maze is the URA. I can’t think of a better spot for it; no one would find it here, and anyone who did would think it’s only more medical equipment. Breathing machines, IV towers, and even what I think might be an old Iron Lung from when Polio was a thing. It’s all here.
But I can only hear my boots on the ground, my heart pounding in my ear, and a clock ticking somewhere in the distance.
A shiver catches me off guard, and I whirl as something catches my eye. “Hello?” I ask the empty room full of chrome, stainless steel, and plastic.
Nothing responds, at least not that I can see. The air conditioner’s still blasting away, and I’m just as happy I’ve left my raincoat on, even though I’m sweating like it’s PE class under it. I pass a door blocked by medical equipment in the only disorganized pile on the whole floor. Next to it, half-covered by some massive monitoring machine, is a directory for the lower five floors.
I’m in the middle of reading it when someone’s hand clamps around my wrist and slams me into the ground.
----------------------------------------
“Subject - 573-V-1/IO Alpha, this is Lambda Four-5. Freeze!” A rifle’s barrel presses hard between my shoulder blades, and Sergeant Strauss’s whole weight is on the knee jammed into my lower back.
[Listen to him!] James says. He’s hurrying. Panicking. I can feel it in his voice. [I’m not sure why he’s here, but he’s not part of the storyline, either. He can help you get out of this mess. Just trust him!]
A steel handcuff closes over one of my wrists, and I decide James is full of shit. I turn into smoke, and Strauss, the rifle, and the handcuffs fall through me and onto the floor. I roll left and become solid as something on his chest starts whining. It picks up steam until it sounds like a teakettle in one of the movies, then stops with an audible pop. My head fuzzes.
He lunges, but not for me. Instead, his grip lands on the rifle.
“Oh fuck.” The rifle spins around toward me, and I turn and run. Something clicks behind me. It goes off a moment later, and a bullet rips into my lower back.
I scream as I fall. I haven’t felt that kind of pain since West End High; it’s like touching an outlet with a fork. It’s like the Revolver when I touched it for the first time. It burns, and it won’t stop! I hit the ground, twitching, and force one of my hands to cover the wound.
It’s not wet. There’s no blood.
“573-Alpha, freeze. Next round’s lethal.” The gun’s up against my neck this time. If he decides to shoot, I don’t have a chance. I’ve lost this one, at least for now.
I freeze.
The cuffs click shut. “You know I can get out of those any time, right?” I say. The rifle’s barrel presses painfully into my spine. Message received; I hold my tongue and my breath. James is quiet, too.
“Command, L4-5 reporting in. I’ve arrived at Area of Interest Fourteen, as per orders. Encountered Area - 249-V-1/RA Provisional, as well as Subject - 573-V-1/IO Alpha. Orders?” Strauss says. The gun doesn’t leave my neck, the pressure doesn’t let up, and whatever’s on his chest is starting to whine again. “The PRA is working well so far, but I’m starting to hear wear and tear already. Yes, ma’am. Fifteen minutes. Alright, I’ll hurry. L4-5, out.”
The gun leaves my neck—finally—and he pulls me into a sitting position against the sixth floor’s wall. He doesn’t undo my fucking cuffs, though. I’m about ready to do that myself when he starts talking. “I’ve got orders to bring you back in. I also have orders to find the URA here, get it fixed, and get back to headquarters. Those are more important, so I need to know if you’re going to get in my way or wait here quietly.”
I don’t say anything. The rifle’s barrel is still pointed at my head, and I could turn to shadow, but I couldn’t do it fast enough to dodge a bullet. Tears build up in my eyes—the hot, angry kind. If it weren’t for the gun, I’d tear him apart. Half of me still wants to try.
“Answer me.”
“Do you know what—“
The gun goes up. “No questions. Just answers.”
And just like that, I get it. A moment before James does, or at least before he says, [He thinks you’re an infovampire.]
I almost laugh, but the gun’s still in my face. So, instead, I take a deep breath, planning out what I want to say so I don’t trigger his trigger. “I’m going home. Right now, that means shutting off this merge, and if you can help me do that, I won’t get in your way. I’ll even help you out. But I’m not like Li Mei. You can relax about that.”
“I can’t trust that,” Strauss says, and the gun doesn’t move. “We found containment breaches all over Headquarters, Li Mei’s missing, and so were you. The Acting Director’s convinced Li Mei did something to you, and from what I’m seeing, I believe it.”
“What?” The question’s out of my mouth before I realize it. I curse mentally.
Strauss doesn’t react. He doesn’t look like he’s fighting anything, and after a moment, he lowers the rifle, letting the sling across his chest take the weight. Then he pulls me up by the handcuffs. I hiss as they dig into my wrists.
He leads me into the women’s bathroom and, when he can’t turn on the light, shines a flashlight into a mirror. I see a familiar face staring back at me, but instead of brown eyes, they’re jet-black pools with no whites and a burning crimson core.
----------------------------------------
So, that’s a lot to unpack.
And I’m going to. But not right now. Not with a gun at my back, a stressed-out SHOCKS trooper at the trigger, and a whole building full of possessed doctors that I assume are looking for me.
Instead, I blink, and the crimson core fades a little. “I see.”
[Oh, uh, that’s not great. That’s not great at all. I’m working on an explanation.]
I don’t say anything else. Sergeant Strauss has all the power right now, and I need him to trust me. Ha. Like that’s going to happen.
“Okay, Alpha.” The handcuffs click off, and I look over my shoulder before I can stop myself. Strauss is standing at the door, one hand on his pistol, one—without a glove—stuck out at me. His rifle’s hanging from its harness, but even so, I can’t fight him. “You think you have the same goal I do. Let’s make a deal. We work together, find the URA, start it up, and then go our separate ways.”
I size up the hand. It’s a test. Li Mei refused to touch anyone; when she touched me, it started her info feeding. Then I shake my head. “You want me to prove I can’t or won’t do it, huh? I don’t have Li Mei’s powers. Not all of them. If I did, I wouldn’t be here.” I shake his hand, and nothing happens.
He relaxes. Not much, but a little. His hand leaves the pistol, and he gestures at the door. “After you, then.”
I follow along, watching him follow me with his eyes. I decide he was lying. I might not be cuffed or in a cell, but I’m SHOCKS’s prisoner once again. And that’s not going to work for me.
“Do you know where it is?” I ask.
“No. The JAMES unit is down. Whatever you did, it fucked shit up at Headquarters.” He’s not telling me anything I don’t already know. We walk through the medical equipment. “You?”
“If I knew, I’d tell you. I want this done as much as you do.” Maybe more. “It’s not on the top floor, so it’s probably in the basement. The building’s under a storyline merge or something. What do you know about that?”
“Not sure. Let me call it in.” Strauss walks toward the elevator, muttering to himself—or to SHOCKS. He stops at the door, hand on his rifle trigger. Then he nods slowly. “Thanks, Ramirez. You triggered the genre shift, didn’t you?”
I nod. “Medical horror.”
“Great.” He shudders. Clearly, it’s not great. Not at all. Then he gestures to the elevator. “Let’s get this open.”
I push the buttons while he watches. I don’t trust him. He doesn’t trust me. So we’re even. The elevator opens, and he steps in. I join him, standing as far from him as possible; he pushes ‘B,’ and the elevator starts dropping.
[Claire, I have a terrible idea, but it’s important. I think I can get back into the SHOCKS database, but I need physical contact with Strauss’s helmet. If I’m right, they re-opened Headquarters to the internet. It’s the only way they can operate his PRA and filters without me. Get in close, touch his helmet, and I’ll do the rest.]
Accessing that database is as important as getting this Universal Reality Anchor running. Maybe even more. It’s not worth catching a bullet, but it’s close. I nod with my eyes; Strauss probably can’t see it, but James can. Then I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and start running numbers.