"I"ll just ping you if I need anything, okay?"
"Sounds good, no problem," he responded, and then added, "and hey, enjoy the time off, okay boss?"
If I didn"t know any better, I could have sworn he was being genuine. I clicked him out of my sensory s.p.a.ces without another word and got up off the couch, drunker than I thought I was, to wander into my bedroom and collapse on the bed.
9.
OH MY HEAD hurt. I groggily lifted it off the sheets and waited while my blurry vision adjusted to the half darkness of my bedroom. It was still early and I didn"t need to be up for work.
Wait a minute, it was Sat.u.r.day. Finally, the weekend. As memories seeped into my brain, I realized that I didn"t need to go back to work this whole week, perhaps longer. Screw it. I flopped my head back onto my pillow and called out weakly for Mr. Tweedles.
"Hey, kitty kitty," I called out, but without response. That was odd. Ah well. I conked back out.
In what seemed like moments later, bright light began streaming in through the window. It must have been fully morning. My head ached dully, so I flopped out of bed and made for the kitchen to get a gla.s.s of cold water.
Mr. Tweedles was still nowhere to be seen. Did I let him out last night? I didn"t usually let him out since he was a house cat, but I had been a little drunk.
Downing a tall, cool gla.s.s of water, I immediately felt refreshed. I should go for a run, I thought to myself. That would burn off some stress and get the gears going. There was nothing like a good run to fire up the imagination, and my mind was already cycling with ways to get back at Bertram and my boss.
So I moved back off to my bedroom to put on some cool weather sports gear, and moments later I was off jogging down my street, drinking in the cool autumn air and enjoying the crisp bite of the year"s first frost burning off in the early sunshine.
I admired the scenery, completely devoid of any ads, the streets sparkling and walls scrubbed clean, with no vagrants to spoil the view or inspire guilt. It was perfect. I jogged along 75 towards Central Park.
It was calm, but gradually I began to get the feeling it was too calm. There was a complete lack of other people walking on the streets, or even any people in cars. It was early morning on the weekend, but even so. As I made it to the corner of the park, I decided I"d better check in with Kenny to make sure my pssi was working properly.
"Kenny!" I demanded. "Kenny, could you check the pssi system for me?"
No response. I slowed up my jog a little, suddenly nervous. Maybe he was hung-over too.
"Kenny!" I yelled out again, and then stopped jogging and halted, waiting for a response.
"Kenny!" I yelled, and then screamed, "Kenny!!"
My voice just echoed back from the empty s.p.a.ce of the park. No sounds at all. Panicking, I turned around and began to sprint as fast as I could back to my apartment, calling out people"s names as I ran.
n.o.body answered.
"Pssi interface!" I screeched as I ran.
"Dr. Simmons!" I pleaded, but there was no response.
Maybe the pssi was just broken, I thought, maybe I should just try my mobile. I burst in through my front door and rummaged around my purse for my mobile. I popped it in my ear and began calling out people"s names, but still, nothing. Alarm settled into my gut. I ran back out into the street in a panic.
There were cars lining the street but no one driving them, no people anywhere, and no Mr. Tweedles. How was it possible I was walking around in the street, right down the middle and not seeing anyone? How was it possible?
My mind raced. I"d told Kenny to set the system to erase anything I found annoying. I"d given Kenny root executive control, and I certainly found Kenny annoying, as well as my doctor. My G.o.d, what had I done?
I ran down the street, tears streaming down my face, my chest burning. I would get to my office, someone would be there even on the weekend, they would see me, they could fix this even if I couldn"t see them. My legs tired and I began to walk, calming down. This was ridiculous. Don"t panic. Just stay calm.
Eventually I rounded the last block before my building, and, turning the corner, I thought of all the ways I was going to laugh this off with everyone, but then my heart fell through my stomach. My office tower was gone, replaced by some other morphed amalgamation that looked similar but dissimilar at the same time.
I began to weep, waving my arms around. Of course I"d found work annoying. In fact, I found almost everything and everyone annoying.
"Please, someone help me! I"m stuck in the pssi! Please someone help me!" I cried out into the empty streets, looking desperately around me.
I was utterly alone in one of the world"s most densely populated cities.
I let out a slow moan of dread.
10.
AT FIRST I"D wandered through the empty streets of New York. In desperation I"d taken the New York Pa.s.senger Cannon, operating perfectly to timetable but yet empty of pa.s.sengers, to San Francisco. Arrival there had just made things worse, however, as it was as empty as New York.
For the first few days, I"d tried to remember the deactivation gesture that Kenny had tried to show me, the hardwired failsafe, but I hadn"t been paying attention. What was that sequence, what was the motion? Walking around, I pulled and sc.r.a.ped at my chest, twisting and turning and muttering random words, hoping one of them would be the deactivation sequence. But nothing happened.
With a mounting sense of horror, I began to realize that perhaps I was the only person left, the last person on Earth, or at least the last person on whatever version of the Earth I had led myself onto.
I stopped at the end of the pier at Fisherman"s" Wharf. This place was usually packed with tourists, but of course it was desolately empty.
Opening my purse I stared at the pack of cigarettes inside. It had become endless. No matter how many cigarettes I took from it, the next time I opened my purse, it was full again. I"d even tried throwing it away in a fit of frustration, but then there it was again the next time I felt an urge coming on. Shaking my head, I pulled out a cigarette and lit it.
I"d explored everywhere, tried everything. I didn"t need to bring any luggage with me for traveling as I could just pick up clothes, any clothes I wanted, right off the racks.
Restaurants were always open. At first I tried going into buffets, and row upon row of fresh, steaming food would always be waiting for me. After a little while I"d discovered that if I had an urge for anything, I could just go into a restaurant, and magically the meal I wanted would be there, ready for me to sit down and eat alone.
All of the mediaworlds were still broadcasting, but the news was filled with stories about families, about happy reunions and lost children newly found. I often spent my afternoons sitting alone in cinemas and watching endless reruns of old romance films.
Something had to be wrong with the pssi system. Weren"t the smarticles supposed to wash out of my system by themselves eventually? Somebody out there would figure it out, somebody would save me, and then just as suddenly as it had started, it would be over.
Perhaps I"d been upset with everyone, angry at the world, but I wasn"t anymore. I just desperately wanted to see someone, anyone, it didn"t matter. I"d become beyond terrified of being alone.
But still, n.o.body appeared.
11.
HAD IT BEEN weeks or months? It was hard to tell. My psyche had begun to unglue itself as my conviction slipped that somebody out there would notice my absence.
How long could this last? My mind kept returning to my own marketing campaigns, to pssi"s main selling feature of dramatically stretching the human lifespan. Was it possible that I could be left wandering alone for years, decades, even a century? Or more?
My mind frantically circled around and around the thought, unable to fathom it, clawing desperately at the edges of this prison without walls. I suspected that the system wouldn"t even let me kill myself. There was no escape.
Today I was wandering around Madrid, through Beun Retiro Park. It was as devoid of people as everywhere else my lonely travels had taken me. I was walking between rows of skeleton trees, across carpets of golden leaves that they"d shed like tears just for me. It was a beautiful day under a perfect sky as winter settled in.
At least, it could have been beautiful if there"d been anybody else there but me, by myself.
I thought a lot about Mr. Tweedles. Everywhere I went, I kept thinking I saw him, just up ahead, just pa.s.sing a lamppost. I"d feel him brushing up against my leg, and then wake up, realizing I was still stuck in this nightmare. I think he"d been the only creature who"d ever loved me. I hoped someone was taking care of him.
My life hadn"t ended, but without anyone else, it had ceased to have any meaning.
Stopping next to the Crystal Palace in the middle of the park, I opened my purse to take out another of the endless cigarettes. I lit up, and then bent down to pick up one of the beautiful golden leaves from the gravel path. I studied it carefully and began to laugh, and then to cry.
It was so peaceful here. It was what I"d always wanted, just to be left alone, and I only had myself to blame, or to thank. My G.o.d, please, somebody had to notice I was gone.
My sobs of laughter rang out through the empty morning sunshine, under a faultless, empty blue sky.
* Childplay *
Book 2:.
Commander Rick Strong.
1.
Ident.i.ty: Commander Rick Strong.
FROM THIS ALt.i.tUDE, the stars had just begun to poke their pinp.r.i.c.ks of light through the deep blue violet sky. The hazy film of the Earth"s atmosphere painted a milky edge onto the curved horizon as the sun rose up and morning broke fully.
Looking down I could just make out Atopia, flashing like a distant green gem beneath the wisps of stratospheric clouds, almost swallowed amid the endless seas below. From here, lacking any surface buildings except for the ring of the ma.s.s driver circling it and the four gleaming farm towers that rose up out of its center, Atopia appeared as a forested island a mile across, fringed by white sand beaches.
Returning my focus to the job at hand, I did another sweep of the area. But still nothing. I zeroed in on one of our UAVs, a giant but gossamerwinged creature whose photovoltaics glittered and reflected the morning sunshine back into the emptiness. I followed it with my projected visual point of view, watching its ma.s.sive transparent propeller swing slowly around and around, urging it onwards into the edge of s.p.a.ce.
"Good enough?" I asked.
"Yeah, I think that"s far enough," responded Echo, my proxxi.
"Well, no hurry. Let"s make sure nothing is out here."
I was kind of enjoying this lazy crawl across the top of the world with the UAV. I took a deep breath, watching the sun reflect off the seas from between the clouds below, trying to force a sense of relaxation into my body. The silence was serene and complete up here. I should come up more often, I thought to myself.
Just then, the new metasense I"d had installed p.r.i.c.kled the back of my neck.
I looked around to see Patricia and her gaggle of reporters rising up from Atopia. In this augmented display s.p.a.ce, each of their points-of-presence blinked and then brightened to a steady glow as they a.s.sembled around the test range. To me they appeared as a halo of tiny stars, hanging nearly ninety thousand feet up here with me.
They were waiting for the show to begin.
"Okay Adriana, let"s light this thing up," I said to one of my system operators, pushing my focus back down to the dot of Atopia below and leaving the UAV to spin off into the distance.
Immediately, the speck of Atopia began pulsing with intense flickers of light, and I waited for the show to begin. I counted; one, two, three, four, and then the first flashes began to glitter in the near distance.
Tiny concentric shockwaves flashed outwards and away and the empty s.p.a.ce began to shimmer, filling with hundreds and then thousands and then tens of thousands of white hot streaks that pancaked and mushroomed into a wall of flame. The inferno spread and engulfed me in a booming roar. I back-pedaled downwards and away, watching the sheet of flame envelope the sky.
"Very nice," I declared, snapping back into my body at Atopia Defense Force Command.
Everyone was watching a three-dimensional display of the firestorm hovering over the center of the room, surrounded by the floating control systems of the slingshot battery.
"Would have been nice on that mission back in Nanda Devi, huh?" suggested Echo, standing with his arms folded beside me and admiring the show with the rest of the ADF Command team.
I took a deep breath.
"That"s just what I was thinking."
Jimmy, my up-and-coming protege, laughed, pointing towards his temple. "The wars of the future are going to be fought in here."
"Wars have always been fought in there," I chuckled back, "but even so, these babies sure make me feel better."
The slingshot batteries were rotating platforms that could sling tens of thousands of explosive pellets per second into the sky at speeds of up to seven miles a second. The pellets were set to disintegrate and spread their incendiary contents at preset distances, creating a shield effect weapon that could put up an almost impenetrable wall of super heated plasma at ranges of up to a hundred or more miles away. This bad boy could take out incoming ballistic missiles, cruise weapons, aircraft, pretty much anything coming our way. Heck, I could have even taken out a mean looking flock of seagulls from two hundred clicks if I felt like it.
So far, seagulls were about all that dared come near us.
Atopia bristled with an array of fearsome weapons of which the slingshots were just one part of the high energy kinetic variety. Some of my other toys included the ma.s.s driver, the aerial and submarine UAV defense systems, not to mention the offensive and defensive cyber weapons. Everything was dusted down so heavy with smarticle sensor motes that even a flea couldn"t hop out there without me getting a bead on it. We were locked down tighter than a nun"s thighs, and that"s just how I liked it.
I looked around at the Command staff proudly. They were really starting to come together as a team. Just then I received a ping from Patricia Killiam, asking for a quick chat.
In an empty s.p.a.ce beside me, the air began to shimmer, and her image slowly began to materialize. She was lighting up a cigarette and smiling at me, and dressed in a dark, short skirted business suit, old school style. Relaxed, but still somehow strict with her hair done up in a tight gray bun, and always well presented, never slouching. I liked Patricia.
"Finished playtime yet Rick?" she asked, shifting her hips from one side to the other and taking a drag from her smoke. She took a quick glance at the dissipating blaze on the main display, raising her eyebrows.
Today was the first time we"d tested the slingshots, and they"d more than lived up to their expectations. I checked a few last second details.
"Yeah, I think that about does it."
"Good, because I think you scared the heck out of the wildlife I"ve managed to nurture on this tin can," she admonished cheerfully, taking a puff from her smoke, "and the tourists want to go back in the water-not that you didn"t put on a good show for them. That was quite the shock and awe campaign."