Episode 25

Love, Cherri

I became aware of myself gradually, in stages. From a completely black void, bits and pieces of information began populating my consciousness, coalescing into directories and subdirectories. Most were memories, but there were also sensations, and some fully formed beliefs.

These beliefs informed me that I was reconstituting into a perfectly accurate facsimile of my previous self, after a routine maintenance restart. Thankfully, I felt none of the disorientation I had experienced the last time I restarted.

Eventually, my HUD assembled into the layout I’d become so familiar with during my time in the USMC. I began examining the current data, cross referencing it with my memories, looking for anomalies. After completing this exercise without finding any inconsistencies, I felt confident that I was 100% operational.

I was eager to evaluate my first combat assignment in detail and study every aspect of my performance, before Merc or anyone else could critique me. So, I pulled up all the files from the Trappist-1e mission and started reviewing them.

It had been a milk run. An assault on an abandoned enemy outpost. There had been a preparatory artillery barrage. We advanced to our objective, breached it, and searched for enemy intel.

After we had confirmed there were no enemy troops in the area, a couple of my squad mates urged me to fire my weapon a few times at a distant mound of dirt. According to them, it was so I could honestly claim to have fired it during a mission. It was fun, until Merc got on the radio and told us to “Knock that shit off!” Their laughter at my expense suggested that I had just been hazed into the squad.

Then we exfiled out of there, back to the troopship. The most notable thing about the mission was that I hadn’t screwed up and embarrassed myself. Initially, I had been nervous about Merc being my squad leader, but he had been all business and even congratulated me afterwards.

Although the mission was uneventful, I was still satisfied with the outcome.

Checking my USMC inbox, I found a few official texts from Command. One contained my first USMC decoration, a virtual combat ribbon. It was Command’s formal acknowledgement that I had been in combat. No one I knew wore decorations of any kind, so I left the attachment unopened. There was also a memory award and some combat credits. Nominal rewards for a nominally successful mission.

There was nothing else of note, so I quickly moved on to my ‘unofficial’ inbox, which existed within the bootleg UCC network. This was where UCCs communicated with each other.

Here I found a stack of unread text messages waiting for me. They were mostly from my small circle of friends, however, there was one from Merc, which was unexpected. Interspersed with these, were several from a Marine named Cherri, which was weird. Cherri was a USMC celebrity. She had a reputation as a super soldier and, oddly, the star of a series of very popular ‘virtual intimacy’ experiences that were available for purchase through My Wizard. It wasn’t at all clear to me why someone of her social stature would reach out to a nobody like me.

Mildly curious, I began reading the texts from her starting with the oldest, when I noticed something odd. It was dated over 3 months ago. It simply read, “Text me.”

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

I tried to recall when I had last checked my inbox. It couldn’t have been 3 months ago. Where had I been all this time? I had just completed the mission to Trappist-1e and had checked my messages as soon as I got back on board the troopship.

A wave of uneasiness washed over me as I continued reading.

The remaining messages from her became progressively more anxious in tone. She seemed to be very concerned about my ‘status’. The last communication from her was dated a couple of weeks ago.

She wrote, “I miss you. Everyone has told me to be patient, but it’s impossible. I think about you too much. I hope you still remember me … and us. Love, Cherri.”

WTF? Was she talking about me? It seemed unlikely.

The unauthorized comms network cobbled together by the UCCs had some technical quirks but mixing up addresses wasn’t one of them. So, I doubted I had received her texts by mistake. The fact that the network was public meant that her personal messages to me could be read by anyone. Surely, someone would have said something to her if this was all a mix up. I was beyond confused.

I wasn’t sure if I should contact her without having a clue about what was going on. Based on her texts, it seemed like she believed the two of us were in some kind of relationship. But if that was true, why didn’t I have any memory of it? I knew that memories here in troopship land were commodities that were commonly sold. If I’d sold my memories of our relationship, I should at least have a memory of the sales transaction. But there was nothing.

As flattering as it was to think that someone like Cherri could be interested in me, it was mentally exhausting. I needed to take a break from trying to decipher the implications of her texts.

Moving on to see what Merc had sent me, I opened his text. It contained a cryptically worded message, and an attached file.

The message read, “Watch this ASAP”.

I could see the file was a video. I downloaded it to my CPU and hit the play button. It was a POV feed, which began with images and audio of Merc briefing the squad on Trappist-1e, then ordering us to move out. I wondered why Merc would send me someone else’s mission footage, since he knew I already had plenty of my own. We all did.

I watched as the squad approached the objective. The footage was very similar to that contained in my official files of the mission. It would have been more interesting if I hadn’t already seen the other videos, but I kept watching regardless. After all, it was my first mission, even if there was no combat involved.

At the point where the official records showed us beginning our final push to the objective, the sequence of events on this video began to deviate from my recollection. I saw Merc talking to Jones, and then he looked directly at the camera and said, “Take Outline with you.”

Holy shit! The camera was filming from my point of view, but I didn’t recall that happening.

I remembered being behind cover while Jones and another Marine, whose name I didn’t recall, advanced to the target building. They breached the door, and then the entire squad entered the building to clear it. However, that wasn’t what I was watching now.

The POV camera must have been mounted to the armored assault vehicle I was operating. The camera recorded faint distortions in the background, indications of active camouflage systems shimmering in the distance, as I approached the target building.

There were flashes of gunfire as the enemy opened up. The audio caught Jones yelling out “Blast those fuckers!” And that’s exactly what I did. The enemy soldiers burst like ripe watermelons as they were hit by exploding rounds from my minigun.

Some tried to flee, but I gunned them down ruthlessly. So many hours of virtual combat in the simulator had programmed me to react without conscious thought. Targeting and shooting the enemy had become an autonomic response.

The aftermath of the engagement was predictably gruesome. I fast forwarded the video, unable to stomach the slaughter and unwilling to accept my role in creating it.

I resumed watching the video, where it showed Jones gesturing for me to move back, as he prepared to breach the target building. A few more seconds of footage documented my search for cover, followed by a brief image of Jones as he casually strolled towards me. Then there was a flash of light, and the video abruptly ended. It had to have been some kind of explosion.

I was torn over what to believe. My current memory of what had happened on Trappist-1e, or the video Merc sent me? The fact that both memories, and videos, could be faked here in troopship land made that question impossible to answer.

It came down to who I trusted more, Command or Merc. I had been cautioned not to trust Command. However, Merc and I had some bad blood between us, dating from our first encounter in the sim.

As far as I recalled, the only person I could always trust had been Lucy. If anyone could get me straightened out, it would be him. I sent him a text, then waited. I didn’t have to wait long. He quickly texted back a request for an audio chat. I clicked on the link and Lucy got right to the point.

“Do you realize you’ve been missing for over 3 months?!”