“It’s disgusting. It is absolutely disgusting.”
My mind was past the brink of exhaustion. This is the path to happiness?
Hurricane Ignacia was definitely crossing over from the Caribbean and into the Eastern Pacific, to be renamed Olivia. Hurricane Newton, which was spinning out into the Pacific as we backed away from it toward the coast, had stopped and even reversed its trajectory.
My projections soon had the Fujiwhara effect taking hold, connecting the two storm systems with their center-pivot at just the wrong point, preventing Atopia from escaping into the open ocean between them.
As my splinters simultaneously discussed the merits of virtual economies with the reporters, defended myself from Kesselring, argued about the nature of happiness with Hal, and considered the hurricanes rushing toward us—I felt the nauseating sensation of vertigo.
My visual fields distorted, ballooning outward, and the hurricanes and reporters shredded into each other. Kesselring’s shocked face watched me blink out of his reality.
Abruptly, I collapsed into a deathly quiet, single-subjective point-of-view.
Exactly where, or why, I had no idea.
Marie, my proxxi, was standing over me, staring into my eyes. Everything was perfectly still. An impossibly long, incredibly thin rope stretched from the infinite blue void above to wrap itself tightly around my waist. I was suspended above a yawning black pit, set in the middle of an endless green field, all under a flawless sky.
Marie shook her head. “I’m afraid the news isn’t good.”
The rope tightened around my waist, choking off my lifeblood. I could feel the tigers charging across the sky toward me, their silent roars ringing in my deaf ears. Fascinated, I watched as nanobots busily ate away at the thin cord holding me suspended in space. Below me, in the blackness of the pit, an unseen monster grunted and slobbered.
This can’t last forever, I thought to myself as I drifted in and out of consciousness.
I can’t last forever.
15
Identity: Jimmy Scadden
“I heard that Kesselring put you in charge of Infinixx?”
“Only temporarily,” I noted. “Someone has to hold down the fort.”
Commander Strong winced. “How is Patricia doing?”
After the Infinixx mess, Patricia had suffered some kind of stroke. Not really a stroke—there was no physical brain damage—more of an overload of her pssi system. She was recovering under observation and isolated for the moment.
“She’ll be fine,” I replied after a pause. “I spoke to her this morning. She said she’ll be back in the office by tomorrow.”
We both returned our attention to the presentation.
“There is something very unnatural going on here,” explained our mandroid guest to the assembled Command team. She reached down with one slender metallic arm to adjust the jumpsuit hugging her metallic legs. “These storms are definitely being driven artificially.”
It was early Saturday morning, and we were in Command to review scenarios around the growing threat of the hurricanes that were pinning Atopia against the western coast of America.
“Do you think the Terra Novans are involved?” asked Commander Strong.
He smelled of alcohol. Things were going badly with his wife again.
“We’re not sure,” the mandroid responded.
“Do you know where this is coming from?” Strong demanded impatiently, rubbing the bridge of his nose and closing his eyes.
The mandroid shrugged. “We can’t say for certain yet, but there’s something too perfect about these storms.”
“Jimmy, do you think you could look into this further?” The commander asked, looking away from the mandroid. “I need to go see Cindy.”
“No problem.” He was about to flit off when I remembered something. “Oh, wait. I have that date tonight, remember?”
Rick exhaled. “Susie, right? So that’s going well then?”
I shrugged. He looked like he had a terrible headache.
“I can cancel if you want.”
“No, no, keep the date,” he sighed. “You can’t let stuff like this stop you from living life. Anyway, I know you’ll keep a few splinters around if I need you. I’ll be back.”
With that, he flitted off, and I returned my focus to the storms and our mandroid guest. More than one thing wasn’t right here.
Tonight was my third date with Susie, and for this one, I’d received an invitation to meet in her own private world—a sensual, mystical place where the sun was eternally setting. She wanted to go for a walk outside her enclave, to chat, and I found myself strolling through a valley of knotted oaks and blossoming cherry trees that offered hidden glimpses of fantastical canyon walls beyond them. Waterfalls spilled into clouds of mist from high, craggy cliffs, and everything twinkled in shades of silver and gold.
As we walked, she stepped through a patch of yellow orchids as tenderly as if they had been children at play. The woody atmosphere was perfectly synthetically warm under an indistinct vanilla sky.
Her long, flaxen hair spilled down her back, held in place by a garland of white flowers above a flowing translucent gown. The breeze swept waves of glittering cherry blossoms and silvery oak leaves around us like a snowstorm, and fireflies sparkled in our wake as we walked through the perpetually gathering dusk.
“How’s Patricia?” she asked. It was common knowledge we were close.
“She’ll be fine. The doctors say she’ll be back tomorrow or the next day.”
“Good.” She smiled warmly, but it soon vanished in a cloud of worry. “And these storms, we’re not in any danger are we? I guess it can’t be that serious if you’re here.” Her smile returned, a ray of sunshine.
“Don’t worry about the storms,” I reassured her. “I wouldn’t advise going topside when they get here, but we’ll be fine.”
“Double good,” she laughed, then flinched, her side going into spasm.
It was an event out in the world, some disaster that had triggered her nervous system. She had such an exquisitely tuned neural pain network—it was what attracted me to her.
I waited, and in a few moments the spasm subsided.
“It’s nothing, I have this—”
“I know,” I interrupted. “No need to explain.”
I reached down to hold her hand and she smiled.
“So, Mr. Jimmy Scadden, my friend Willy speaks very highly of you.”
I was wearing my ADF Whites and walking stiffly, a stark contrast to her flower-child projection. She spun in front of me, reaching up to snatch a blossom out of the air, and then stopped to curtsy, offering me the blossom.
“So what would an ADF officer want with me?” she laughed.
“I need your help. It’s hard to explain.”
“Need my help?” she giggled. “I thought this was a date?” She pouted playfully.
“It is.” I looked down and away, trying to appear embarrassed. “I mean, I feel like you’re someone who could be really special to me.”
She danced away from me, trailing her hands through the flowers.
“I looked you up, Mr. Jimmy.” She laughed, but then stopped and looked at me seriously. “That incident with the bugs, that was a bit odd, don’t you think?”
I winced. “I was just a kid, finding a way to deal with my pain,” I tried to explain. “You wouldn’t understand. How could you? You grew up with such love.”
She considered me for a moment. “What do you mean, Jimmy?”