Read A Child Of Our Time (The Veil Book 2) Online
Authors: William Bowden
A Child Of Our Time (The Veil Book 2) (3 page)
Somewhere in the background a Beatles ballad plays, the melody seeping into Lucius’s bathroom. He stares at himself in the mirror, the improvement in his appearance undeniable. One more moment of contemplation before snatching up is medication pen gun and injecting himself.
The doorbell chimes. He ignores it. The bell chimes again and he pushes himself away.
A spacious, but minimalistic Manhattan apartment with its own hallway. Lucius opens the door to find Justice Garr standing there. He brightens.
“Alka.”
“Lucius. Sorry about the hour.”
He ushers her in, Garr looking the apartment over with an eye of familiarity, searching out the signs of well-being. It is impeccably neat and ordered. A tinge of relief on her face that Lucius’s pointedly raised eyebrows acknowledge when her gaze finds him again.
“How’s the project going?” she asks.
“Alka, you probably get to read the reports before I do.”
Garr drifts through the apartment, continuing her none-too-subtle inspection.”
“Saw your medical report today,” she says casually.
“Jesus. Is nothing sacred?”
A matronly snap from her, “No, Lucius. It is not.” She catches herself. The news deserves a lighter tone, “Still in remission. And so much more…perky? Having fun?”
A sheepish Lucius comes closer to her, “Maybe.”
“I understand you have activated the three of them.”
“Yes… the forming process may take a while. Jerome’s notes were unclear in that regard.”
The momentary warmth in the gaze they share fades. Garr’s eyes have found something.
Tucked away in a corner is a small table. Her eyes sadden deeply. She approaches the table, Lucius watching her with his own sadness. A framed photograph stands alone on the table top. She picks it up.
A younger-looking her, with Lucius and a teenage girl, the three of them smiling happily.
She places the photograph face down on the table.
“I don’t like remembering,” she says, her voice devoid of any emotion.
Lucius comes close to her.
“It’s been so long. I thought—”
She turns on him, tears in her eyes. “You thought wrong. It took her from us and now it’s trying to take you from me.”
“Thought it already had.”
Garr abruptly makes to leave, but Lucius gently arrests her by the shoulders. She confronts him with wet eyes.
“I’m not going to Oregon for a second time,” she says. “Not for you. I just can’t go through that again. So you beat this thing.”
General Korin has set up a base of operations in New York City, to be close to his goal. It’s a warehouse, bare of any goods, but busy with small numbers of military personnel shifting equipment and materials. His office is a mobile tactical unit stationed on the warehouse floor—a wheeled trailer stuffed with communication and monitoring technology, none of which is currently active.
Lieutenant Jenner sits at briefing table opposite Korin, eying up the pensive general. He appears lost in some thought, the update Jenner having just given evidently unexpected.
“We need to gain possession of the Embies,” Jenner concludes. “If Gray succeeds and Justice Garr gets her wardship…it’ll put us back ten years.”
Korin rises from his thought process, “Actually this could work to our advantage. If Gray makes enough progress then we will only need the host.”
“But we don’t know which of the three it is,” Jenner counters.
“Let Gray do his work and the host will reveal itself.”
“And be made a ward of court.”
Korin leans back in his chair, a steely pair of eyes for the lieutenant.
“I think you will find, Lieutenant, that it will be in the host’s nature to deliver itself unto us.”
Boyce has set up a control desk to oversee the third generation MBIs, their vault chamber having been sealed for the activation process. All are gathered around with an air of expectation as Boyce checks the log files generated by the mobile consoles within chamber.
“All three Embies got their profile selections. One and Two formed an hour ago, but Three still hasn’t completed yet.”
“So how much longer do we wait?” asks Landelle.
“Well, we expected some variation in the process,” Boyce says, “but we haven’t any idea how long—”
“Open the vault.” Lucius has been strangely quiet up to this point.
* * *
The third-generation chamber door panel sucks inward and slides open. Lucius turns to the others.
“Do not say anything. Try to keep your reactions neutral.”
Lucius steps into the chamber, trailed by Landelle. Boyce and Moule follow on behind.
A ghostly, translucent projection of a man stands before MBI #1—and a woman before MBI #2. They are three-dimensional avatars, realistic in every respect. Like Alice their appearance is somewhat conservative, both wearing a contemporary take on an Edwardian style of clothing.
Lucius makes eye contact with each in turn.
“My name is Dr. Lucius Gray. What are your names?”
The man before MBI #1 replies first, speaking with a self-assured, natural-sounding voice.
“Hello, Dr. Gray. My name is JoJo.”
He has a calm and relaxed demeanor about him, if perhaps a little formal, as does the woman.
“Hello, Dr. Gray. My name is Eleanor.
“JoJo, Eleanor, the others with me are Special Agent Landelle and Drs. Boyce and Moule. Do you know where you are?”
Also like Alice, JoJo and Eleanor have their own perspective of the world around them, an inner world generated as a virtual reality. What they see is the MBI chamber just as Lucius sees it, except that here they appear not as projections, but as real individuals made flesh.
“We are in the Cantor Satori Machine-Based Intelligence Laboratory,” says JoJo, “New York City.”
“Are you aware of what is happening?”
“We have been activated and allowed to form,” Eleanor says. “JoJo and I are fully aware of our circumstances.”
“Good. Some privacy, please.”
“Of course, Dr. Gray,” JoJo replies.
JoJo and Eleanor exchange a polite glance with each other and vanish.
A grinning Lucius turns to an astonished Landelle.
“Have they shut down?” she asks.
“Retreated into their inner worlds.”
Boyce and Moule turn their attention to MBI #3, a luminescent projection still in flux over it, but Landelle is still intrigued by what she has just seen.
“Where do the avatars come from?”
Lucius is uncharacteristically enthusiastic to explain, selecting MBI #2 as his subject.
“The embedded gold tracery you can see through the surface is an audiovisual induction layer. They use it to see, hear, speak, and can project anything three hundred-sixty degrees around them. Not only that they are completely self-contained and can run on internal power for up to seventy-two hours, if necessary.
Boyce hands Lucius a metal wrench that is oddly to hand.
“The whole thing is encased in a diamond composite mono-bloc,” he says, before immediately setting about the unit, striking it hard three times with the wrench. He flashes a mischievous grin and a startled Landelle.
“Tamper-proof. Neat, huh?”
Landelle reasserts her composure by maintaining a serious tone.
“Those were their internal images? Did they choose them?”
“Not consciously,” says Lucius, handing the wrench back to Boyce. “They are the result of the random profile gifting process and, consequently, how they perceive themselves as they form. But once formed they cannot change.”
Landelle now turns her attention to MBI #3, Boyce and Moule examining the console before it.
“So what’s up with number Three?” she asks.
Landelle and Lucius approach the unit.
“The runt of the litter?” she suggests.
Lucius ponders Landelle, before looking over MBI #3 with abject disappointment.
“Check the logs,” he says to Boyce and Moule. “Everything since activation.”
And with that, to Landelle’s bemusement, he abruptly leaves.
The whole floor has switched to emergency lighting and the alarm klaxons are sounding. Everyone has evacuated from the building except Lucius. He is desperate to reach the vault. He
must
get there, but the maze of work areas seems
impossible
to navigate.
He staggers into the third-generation chamber. Two bodies lie on the floor—JoJo and Eleanor.
Out of nowhere, Alice. A look of utter contempt. In a flash she has him by the throat.
“Who are you?” she demands.
Her grip tightens. He is choking.
“Who am I?” she screams.
Lucius wakes with a gasp, bathed in sweat. His phone is chiming. A moment to compose himself and he answers.
“Lucius, it’s Veronica. There’s a problem with Three.”
* * *
Boyce and Moule scrutinize the readouts from the portable console before MBI #3. Sensors are arranged all about it, but its surface projection is not present. An unkempt Lucius sweeps in.
“What have we got?” he asks.
“Nada’s what we’ve got,” says Boyce. “Completely dead. It shut off about an hour ago. Tripped the sensors.”
“What about the diagnostic stream?”
“Nothing.”
“How much power is it drawing?”
“Zip.”
“That’s not possible. Even if the higher brain functions were fried, the substrate would still be drawing power. Check again.”
“Lucius, we’ve check it already,” Moule says. “We can’t find anything.”
This leaves Lucius frustrated and confused. He looks Three over with a look of concern.
“It must be on internal power.”
“Do you think it is watching us?” asks Moule.
Lucius lets the remark pass, turning instead to the other two MBI units.
“JoJo. Eleanor. Attend, please.”
They both dutifully appear before their respective units, their demeanor cordial and calm.
“Hello again, Dr. Gray,” says Eleanor.
“What can you tell me about unit number three?”
“Why, nothing, Dr. Gray,” replies JoJo.
“The three of you share a common channel, so that you can commune within your internal worlds.”
“That is correct, Dr. Gray,” says Eleanor. “But the doorway to unit number Three has not yet opened.” Her gaze shifts away briefly, “Just a moment. Just a moment.” A brief glance to JoJo and, “I find that the doorway is no longer present, Dr. Gray. What does that mean?”
“It is nothing to worry about. Thank you. Some privacy, please.”
JoJo and Eleanor politely acknowledge the request and fade away, leaving a pensive Lucius staring down at the floor despondently, hands on hips.
His gaze snaps to MBI #3, his brow furrowing with the beginnings of an idea. For a moment he just stands there, staring at Three. Then, the idea fully formed, he whirls to face Boyce and Moule.
* * *
“This is a really bad idea,” Moule says, leaning over a fully reclined Lucius. Boyce finishes attaching the Tap cables and lowers the visor over Lucius’s eyes.
“The simulation coming out of the MBIs is going to be super real,” cautions Boyce. “It will be somewhat disorientating at first.” He places the Tap switch in Lucius’s hand—a thumb-operated button to both commence and terminate the session.
“Ready?” Boyce asks.
“Ready,” says Lucius.
“Okay. Bringing up the launch simulation.”
A three-dimensional rendition of the laboratory flicks on before Lucius’s eyes. Just as it is in reality, but recreated as a virtual world from cameras dotted about the floor space. It is almost, but not quite, convincing; the cameras don’t capture all the detail of the real-world laboratory and the renderer doesn’t fill in the gaps very well.
Moule leans into his field of vision, a slight distortion to her face.
“Take a moment to adjust, then click the finger button. That’ll link the Tap to Eleanor’s diagnostic stream and take you into her world.”
Lucius doesn’t take a moment. He clicks the button. His whole body tenses.
“Jesus!”
Before his eyes the laboratory simulation digitally disintegrates into a huge
rush
of colors and shapes streaming toward him. Barely a moment and it all coalesces into a new perspective and Lucius
arrives—
He lurches forward to be caught by JoJo and Eleanor. They steady him on his feet.
Lucius’s most immediate perception is that they are both completely real in every respect. They are made flesh, the feel of their firm hold on him making the illusion absolute. The Tap is making it real and Lucius cannot hide his shock.
“Are you alright, Dr. Gray?” Eleanor asks.
“Take a moment to adjust,” JoJo suggests.
Their expressions show that they are both deeply concerned and Lucius seeks to reassure them by steadying himself. He is quickly able to stand unaided.
“Thank you. I’m fine. It just feels a little…odd.”
In his hands is the Tap switch. He makes to look himself over, before Eleanor gestures to something behind him. It’s a full-length mirror, mounted in an elegant wooden frame. Lucius suspects that she has just created it. In its reflection he sees himself as Eleanor has chosen to see him. His face, albeit with a much healthier complexion, and the same clothes, but, Lucius notes with a sideways glance to Eleanor, with a superior quality of laundering.
“Welcome to our Common Room,” says JoJo.
Lucius looks about him. It’s a simple white-world with a few items of period furniture—a sofa, chairs, and a coffee table. All completely real.
“Good God.”
“This is a manifestation of the common channel we share,” Eleanor says. “JoJo and I enjoy spending time here.”
Set back from the furniture are two doors, one in an Edwardian-period style, flanked by two pedestals, an ornate vase atop each, and the other Art Deco. They are positioned where one might expect there to be two adjacent perpendicular walls of a large room. Lucius’s eyes are naturally drawn to where a third door might be.
“The doors lead to our private rooms,” explains JoJo. “As you can see there is no door to unit Three.”
Lucius’s gaze lingers where door Three should be.
“Would you like to see my room?” Eleanor asks.
“Yes…” Lucius says and, remembering his manners, turns his attention to her. “I would like that.”
She ushers him toward the Edwardian door. Lucius immediately finds walking to be immensely difficult. Like wading through treacle. Like, in fact, being in a dream. In a normal dream state this would be because the brain effectively paralyzes the body to stop it acting the dream out. He considers the Tap might have a similar effect, but it should all be in the mind, so…
JoJo and Eleanor flank Lucius as he shuffles his way to the door, both ready with the lightest of supporting touches. With each step his gait improves and by the time he gets to the door it’s more natural.
Eleanor opens the door for him to reveal a room within, not visible from outside. He steps in noting that he can no longer see the Common Room, despite the apparent lack of walls. A white-world enclosed within a white-world.
Elegant pieces of furniture occupy the room. Just inside the door is an occasional table, with a number of personal items arranged on it. In the center of the room books lie open on an ornate coffee table, which itself sits before an eighteenth-century sofa. Of particular note to Lucius is a privacy screen, in a Japanese style, standing to one side.
He finds it all to be highly captivating.
The sound of a vase crashing to the floor, just outside the door, arrests all three of them. They turn to see pieces of china lying in the doorway, the sound of footsteps fleeing the scene outside briefly punctuated by a bump into a piece of furniture.
They hurry into the Common Room, arriving just in time to see a third door slam shut. It’s a struggle, but Lucius makes his way to the door. It’s of an old fashioned appearance, with a large brass knob. He grasps the knob and rattles it. The door is locked from within.
* * *
Disorientated and drained, Lucius removes the Tap faster than Boyce can properly disconnect it. He tries to rise, a concerned Moule comforting him.
“It’s not an experience I would recommend,” he croaks.
He tries to rise again.
* * *
The third-generation chamber is silent, save for the whisper of air conditioning. Still exhausted, Lucius enters dragging a chair noisily along the floor. He sets it before MBI #3 and seats himself to ponder its obsidian slab.
Boyce and Moule observe him briefly from the door way, knowing all too well how unwise it would be to disturb him.
Lucius, for his part, is quite ready to invest a considerable amount of time in this particular staring contest.
