Kristina bolted outside, not bothering to make sure the basement door was shut before she bounded up the stairs two at a time.
If the UPS is welded shut, that means Rick was set up by whomever installed his system.
“Hector.” She panted and cleared the top step, then the corner. She stopped before pressing her fingerprint to the door panel that unlocked her apartment. “He’s gonna be okay if I do this, right?”
Silence.
“I said—”
He won’t die.
She sighed and unlocked the door.
Probably.
That would have to be enough. She dashed to Rick, who still lay reclined in the chair of the SR array. “Just yank it out?” Tentatively she pulled, but it didn’t budge. “Is it stuck?”
There’s a mechanism to prevent accidental disconnects.
She sighed. Right. She knew that. Don’t lose all your goddamned sense, Kris. “How do I…” She squinted at the intersection of the cable and her husband’s implant port.
There’s an emergency access to the internal lock, but it requires you to use a needle or a pin to press into a tiny hole in the cable plug casing.
“What? Where do I get a needle? Who the fuck has a nee—”
Quickly, Kristina. You have to pull him out now.
She searched for a needle, but needles simply weren’t things they kept around. She saw her mechanical pencil lying on her sketchbook. “How hard to I have to push this button?”
Unknown. Searching. Seventy-two gram-force pressure.
“I don’t have a needle.” She reached for the pencil and clicked until the graphite rod stuck out. “I have to use a graphite pencil lead. Do you think I can press hard enough with this, or will it break?”
That depends on precision, lateral force… How shaky are your hands?
She shook her head. “How long?”
He’s in danger and surround—
“How long is it from the access hole to the button? The longer this graphite rod is, the more brittle it’ll be.
Right. One inch should be more than enough to reach, while giving you enough to grip.
She searched the cable plug casing. “Where is this access hole?”
Halfway between where the metal casing begins and where the plug meets the implant port. It’s on the right side.
She got as close as she could and squinted. “Got it!” She guided the graphite rod into the hole.
Not yet!
The sudden shout in her head made her jump, which cracked the graphite “Fuck!” She growled. “Why did you stop me?”
The reason manual disconnect isn’t recommended is that the implant frequency cycles with the brain at a certain rate. There’s a repeating zenith and nadir of its phase, and the safest point of disconnect is at a nadir.
“A what?”
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
Low point.
“Why didn’t you say that?” She pressed the top of the pencil for another inch and a half of graphite. “Don’t yell at me again. I’ll push it to the bottom till it touches. Will you know when I should push?”
Yes. Good.
She inserted the graphite rod into the hole and waited. And waited. “Any day—”
Now!
She pressed.
********************************
Rick made a mad dash for ZizzZL12, hoping to rush past the only non-bot combatant on the field.
The player still wore an immaculate white gi, but over that, he sported a black silk jacket with gold, Asian-style dragons on each side of the center barrel buttons. Gold trim adorned the sleeves.
Every detail stood out to Rick as, surprising himself, he slipped into empty mind with no preamble this time. Thank God. Time didn’t slow, but Rick’s mind accommodated all incoming stimulus.
Nonetheless, Z’s punch tagged his shoulder as he tried to pass, spinning him toward an oncoming bot. Rick tucked into a ball to roll beneath the bot’s grasping arms, then stood and leapt over the next female bot’s low kick. Though Rick had been highly trained before the reCon, he wouldn’t have been able to react that quickly without empty mind. If I make it out of here without a ban, I need to thank Ditto for that.
Z had followed him, and as Rick turned, the player closed the distance with a flying knee. Rick dropped flat to avoid it, then used Roamin’ Cancel to go back to a standing position immediately so he could jump the spinning low leg kick Z performed as soon as he landed. Rick used Punching and Throwing to tag Z hard in the nose as soon as he rose, then used the Throwing part of the move to get him back on the ground before leaping over the stunned player and dashing toward the hole created by his absense.
Ditto, I have to get out of here soon. He bolted through the gap, but there were more bots. When he glanced backward, the bots had converged on Z. They’re checking all the players, I guess. He shrugged. Ditto?
I’m assisting Kristina-Ann Prophet. You’ll be out momentarily.
Momentarily? How long is that, because I’m— He had to break off and roll away as a bot he hadn’t noticed threw a hard hook at him.
Another bot was closing in, giving Rick few places left where he might get to his feet. Ditto! I need—
********************************
Nausea overwhelmed Rick as a sensation, not unlike being torn in all directions, flooded his awareness. “Ugh,” he’d have said, but he had no mouth. Sourceless lights flickered in a darkness, though he couldn’t locate his body in any space that corresponded to any location or orientation that seemed possible.
He had a sensation of being thrown into the SR recliner, and his stomach roiled.
“Wha!” He sat up and vomited, though he had the sense of mind to avoid the SR array terminal.
There was a hand on his back which made him jump, then Kristina’s voice. “Calm down. You’re out.”
He blinked and patted his body, surprised to find that his internal sensation didn’t match his outer one, as if his hands were asleep. Then, his fingers and wrists flashed with pain and he became too weak to move them. His stomach was still strong enough to clench, however; he struggled to orient his mouth away from his own body. In one convulsive attack, he emptied what little had remained after the first bout of vomiting. The rest was a dry heave.
“Try to breathe,” Kristina said.
Rick moved his mouth wordlessly. His diaphragm was still pressed against his stomach, trying to make him vomit. “Ack! Guck!” was all he could utter.
His vision narrowed into a tunnel, but the stomach convulsions relented before he passed out. He gasped, taking in large gulps of air in and out rapidly. Though he’d tried to clench the arms of the recliner, any attempt to grip created a feeling up his arm like that of hitting one’s funny bone. When he let go of his grip, his numb fingers shook.
Kristina gripped him around the shoulders and pressed her face into the top of his head, holding him up. He let his arms go loose, letting Kristina hold him steady as he tried to reorient to being in his body.
“Gotta find out…” He didn’t have enough strength to form the entire sentence. There was pressure on the back of his head.
“I’m just checking to see if the implant port closed,” his wife said. “I think you’ll need a shower before I get you to bed.”
His phone buzzed and he tried to focus long enough to see who sent it. Alex. Great. He wouldn’t be able to talk to her until he knew who was on his side. “I need to ask Ditto…”
“You need a shower and bed.”
He tried to explain that Ditto needed to track the source of the cheating software that’d been hacked into his avatar, but all he could do was shake his head in frustration.
“We’ll get to the other stuff first, but you got some puke on your leg and you need to sleep.”
He clenched his eyes, then nodded.
It was slow hobbling to the bathroom, and he almost fell twice. Kristina helped, but she was so much smaller than him. She was strong, but still, they had to go slowly.
She planted him on the toilet while she prepared the shower. He floated between wakefulness and dream; the bright florescent bathroom lights weren’t enough to keep him awake in the scene. She helped him strip, then pressed him against a corner and scrubbed him. He wanted to laugh at his helplessness, but he hadn’t the energy even for that.
In a blur, he was roughly dried and placed into bed. She kissed him, but he didn’t stay conscious long after that.