Episode 2

A Rude Awakening

My fateful trip down the rabbit hole began when I became conscious and found myself gazing out at an expansive but unfamiliar landscape.

It was a pastoral scene that was pleasing to the eye but had a less than authentic quality to it. The tall grass blowing in the wind was a little too uniform, its motion a little too regular. It had the look and feel of a skillfully rendered 3D simulation.

Strangely, I could hear myself asking questions aloud, when I was pretty sure I was only thinking them. Even stranger, was the response from some invisible source.

“Where the hell am I?” I thought / spoke.

“You’re inside the US Marine Corp’s Virtual Warfare Training Module. How are you feeling?”

I was spooked by the disembodied female voice. It didn’t sound computer generated. It sounded like an actual person speaking. After about a ten count, I asked “Where did you say I am?”

The voice reiterated “The USMC Virtual Warfare Training Module.”

That’s what I thought she had said. But I couldn’t quite grasp the meaning of the term ‘module’. I asked, “Do you mean, like some kind of training center?” Unable to recall how I’d ended up here, I was starting to get a bad feeling.

“Okay, I know you’re feeling a little confused, it’s totally normal. I guarantee you’ll start feeling better soon. And one more thing, you can ask all the questions you want but only after we’ve completed your orientation. They’re very strict about doing the orientation first.”

Things were starting to take a Kafkaesque turn.

After the briefest of pauses, she continued. “So, I’ve got some questions I need to ask you. They’re totally routine. It’s important for you to answer them right away, with the first thought that pops into your head.” It sounded like some kind of psychological evaluation. I resigned myself to just go with it, since I didn’t seem to have a choice.

“Do you have any memories from before?”

I hate it when people ask vague questions. In an attempt to clarify, I asked “What do you mean? Like before I woke up in the training … thing?”

“Yes. I forgot to mention that these are all yes or no questions. So, just answer yes or no, okay?” There was a hint of exasperation in my inquisitor’s voice, as she repeated the question.

“No. I have no memories from before a few minutes ago.” Now that I thought about it, having no memories beyond a few minutes ago seemed like a major red flag. Had I been in an accident? Did I have a concussion?

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

A sense of dread began to seep into my consciousness as I answered a series of questions asked by the disembodied voice. All of the questions focused on memories, or feelings. This was definitely some kind of psych test.

Then unexpectedly, it was over. “Alright, that’s it. We’re all done.”

In an awkward attempt at levity, I asked “Did I pass?”

There was a mildly irritated sigh. “It’s not a test.”

Now seemed like a good time to start getting some answers to my questions. How had I gotten here? Why did I have no memories from before today? I resolved to take control of the discussion now that the voice had completed its mandatory orientation / psych test.

“Okay, now explain to me what I’m doing at a Marine training center?”

“Hang on … just a second.” said the voice. What happened next was as unexpected, as it was troubling.

Suddenly there was a new voice, a stern male voice, which seemed to take itself more than a bit too seriously. Clearly an AI, designed to intimidate the listener.

It stated my full name and began reciting a list of crimes I’d never heard of, including misappropriation of public resources, civil negligence, and suicide. Apparently, crimes I had been charged with.

I must admit to being caught a little off guard. Suicide.? It was frustrating having no memories from before today, but I was pretty sure that suicide wasn’t a crime. I mean, who could they charge if the alleged perpetrator was successful? And besides, I felt fairly alive at the moment.

In an attempt to shed some light on things, I asked “Am I being charged with these … crimes?”

The AI responded, “You have been charged and found guilty on all counts.”

It took a moment for this to sink in. When it finally did, I started to freak out. “Hold on a goddamn minute! I have rights! What about a trial? I have the right to an attorney, don’t I? I want to speak to my attorney now!”

“You have forfeited your rights as a citizen, by committing the crimes for which you have been lawfully convicted. In the interest of justice, you will begin serving your sentence, effective immediately.”

This was total batshit craziness. In a panic, I began searching for an exit but found that no matter which way I turned, the simulated countryside stretched to the horizon. Dismayed, I dropped my head into my hands, only to make an even more disturbing discovery. I had no hands.

As I tried to figure out what had happened to my hands, the AI droned on. “Joshua Carl McCann, you have been sentenced to active interstellar combat in the Universal Synthetic Marine Corps, for a period of not less than 7 years.”

Universal Synthetic Marine Corps? Active interstellar combat? I protested, “Hey, I’m a civilian!”

The AI, ignoring my objection, continued. “You will serve as a universal combat consciousness for the entirety of your 7-year sentence. Any transportation time will not be credited as time served. Any offenses committed while in USMC custody may result in additional time being added to your sentence.”

Between the twin shocks of finding that I had no discernable body and being sentenced to years of interstellar combat, I was speechless. I had obviously been the victim of some gross miscarriage of justice. In despair, I had pretty much given up trying to reason with the AI when suddenly, for reasons which were not at all clear to me, I impulsively asked about my memory loss. “Hey, what happened to my memories? Why can’t I remember anything before today?”

It responded, “Your personal memories have been confiscated. They are now the property of the state. Any future access to them will be determined by your performance evaluations.”

Before I could formulate a follow up question, yellow characters began streaming across my field of vision, superimposed on the simulated countryside. It was some kind of data feed.

The AI dryly explained, “Your Heads-Up Display will indicate the time remaining on your sentence, as well as other important data. The next USMC training cycle will begin in 60 minutes. Use this time to familiarize yourself with the Marine Corps Online Help Desk.”

With that unhelpful bit of advice, the AI signed off. Then an icon, in the form of the Marine Corps logo, appeared in my HUD display. I had been handed off yet again, from a human contact to an AI, and finally to an automated “Help Desk”.

The progression strongly suggested that I would be on my own from here on out.