Chapter Four

  Silas Vance sat in his apartment. He drank his bitter, fake coffee as he watched the dragons and lights and drones, all shining and flying and buzzing, each one on its own designated path. A small transparent cube was on the side table. The walls dripped code and language. As he placed his hand on the cube it shifted and pulsed as if digital rain was banging between the panes, dripping a language beneath its skin, its seems glowing faint and golden like a dying star. His hand pulsed. The cube waned like it was sending out its last light. The windows and floors and furniture—full of little slow worlds—phased and dotted then fell away. Just the raw bones of reality, a scanned, sonar, binary picture of the world. He saw his first entry to Mecha come and play-out like it was now. I’m proud to walk here with you, he watched himself say to those people—the ones who stood beside him and told him he would be remembered as a god. That this was it, this was the place he would stay forever and never die. The world crumbled and fell away. He stood in a place with no light and no sound yet saw and felt it all. The archways of thought and feeling bending and twisting. Fractals of existences playing out between his own thin panes of realities. Worlds within worlds, trapped and controlled by numbers and symbols that had been created by others. Yet he got to see it, he got to taste it. I have become a God, he said. The Maker of Worlds.

  . . .

  Beneath the True realm lay our Real. Within the Real we had created new digital worlds. The generation lost of wonder built their digital playgrounds on a foundation of relentless want. They created Realms where time ran slower so you could live your ten or hundred lives. Digital realties that fed on time, thoughts and feelings. Mecha fed into Deepscape, Deepscape into Nullscape, Nullscape into The Core. Realms given to the people. A place where you came for a day and earnt a week. And if you paid their price, you gained a lot more. A ticket to travel into a deeper layer, to build a world of your choice. You got a chance to be someone, to start fresh. You could pay the fee and become a God.

  And they all fed back to The Grand. The Giver. The Maker. The Master.

  . . .

  Silas prodded and stretched his digital fingers at the realties, pulling and shifting them, collapsing and folding them. He saw how this went. How his God World would be accepted. He saw how he would be praised and worshiped. He watched as time reversed. The Real. The digitals—Mecha. Deepscape. Nullscape. Billions of people living thousands of lives. All backwards and simple. Time and worlds like playthings on a stage, acting out his thoughts and memories and feelings in an instant. So this is what it’s like to be you, he said.

  Cory emerged beside him, in this place between the real and digital world.

  -You need to stop this path you’re on, Silas.

  -Funny, I was going to say the same to you.

  -I mean it, you won’t find what you’re looking for here.

  -What do you know what I’m looking for?

  -I’ve seen this before. I’ve been people like you.

  -There’s nobody like me. I’m the one who gets to tell the Angels and Demons what to do. I get to write this script.

  -You will not like what you find in there.

  -Anymore of this, and you’ll start to feel the loss, said Silas.

  -I don’t do well with threats.

  -And I don’t make them, Silas replied. And if I don’t return, you don’t.

  -And yet, you’ll still be dead.

  -Then you don’t get to fight your fight.

  -There’s always a fight somewhere, said Cory.

  -Not one you can win. The blackened reality shuddered around them. Stop, said Silas. Go easy. Live this digital life. I’ll give you this one. Then don’t come back, it’s my gift to you.

  -You were never meant to see this place.

  -Only feed on us for it, said Silas. I know how it works. I know how you work.

  Silas had no body or mind. There was no time here, no light. His perception was now a digital construct, pulled together by a billion digital pasts, held in place by the same glue that kept photons together, pulled into a place that grew and fed on the thoughts and feelings of that generation lost to wonder.

  The Portal grew around him, surrounded him, became him. He saw a reality of geometry, no time, all space. He disappeared from his world and into the place that no living mind was ever meant to go.

  David watched from the Core.

  —Many are the woes of the wicked, but the Lord’s unfailing love surrounds those who trust in him, he said. All for one, and one for all. Amen.

  *

  -And I’m supposed to forget all of this, just accept it and go back to my shitty Community Camp and Scav and struggle until I die?

  Cory shook his head.

  -No Maya, you’re not supposed to forget all this and go back to your shitty Community Camp and Scav and struggle ‘till you die. Cory held out his hand as Maya hesitated, looked up at his smile and silver hair before she gave her hand, he squeezed lightly and said, let’s get some air.

  The floor-to-ceiling window slid open automatically when they approached. The balcony was wide and the air was clean. Seats lined the wall and they had no dust or ash on the cushions or arms. Cory removed a thin metal case from his pocket, squeezed it with his thumb and finger and a cigarette popped out; he flicked and pointed the orange tip toward Maya. She shook her head, softly raised her hand.

  -They say these’ll kill you, he said with a smile as he held a lighter to the end and inhaled deeply. He drew slow as he leant on the metal rail, stared out over the walls of the private city within a city. He exhaled with a sigh and then he asked. What would you do if you were told you had six-months lo live?

  Maya leant on the rail. She stared at the lights all pulsing in a line on top of the wall. Over the barrier to keep the rich in, not the poor out. The air looked thicker. Hazed. The tower lights beyond the Thames blinked weakly in the distance. She turned—her face studying the question.

  -Six-months? She said, frowning, still thinking, then she asked. Six months of my life? Or your life?

  Cory smiled as smoke left his nose and mouth.

  -Both, he said.

  Maya was still thinking, her face twitching a smile before it flattened.

  -I don’t think the next six-months would be all that different if things stayed the same. She pushed against the rail and stood straight. I would a Scav. But a life like this, she said, a life like yours. With all this? I would take my sister somewhere warm—not too hot of course. We would sit somewhere sandy under the coconuts and finally… well. You know.

  -Tell me, Cory said. How would you live if you had it all?

  -I don’t dream of things out of my reach, Maya said as she shrugged. Dreams kill you eventually. Kill your reality.

  Cory chuckled.

  -I don’t disagree with you there. A little glass-half empty though, he said wobbling his head. He scraped the butt into a metal dish and stared out to nothing in particular. But it easy for me to say, he added.

  Maya slumped her elbows on the rail. Shook her head.

  -Why have you brought me here? Why didn’t you just come for the chip? She asked.

  Cory blinked for a second or two and rocked his head, he sighed, then drew in the air and held it for a few moments before his breath made clouds of its own.

  -I’ll give you everything, Maya. All this, he said, then gestured around the balcony. My wealth, he added.

  -Why?

  - I didn’t earn it, he said. He smirked. I stole it; from them. He nodded toward the towers and the street below.

  -And you’ll just give it all away?

  Cory nodded.

  This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

  -Why? She asked.

  Cory shrugged a little. Popped out another cigarette and lit it.

  -What would you do with it? He asked.

  -If I didn’t have six-months to live? She rocked her head and said—you wouldn’t.

  Cory nodded slowly; the smoke drifted into his eyes then he inhaled again.

  -I would.

  Maya frowned, stared at him.

  -Well, she said. She hesitated, then looked far down at the street, her eyes followed the cars. The headlights following more lights. I would build something, somewhere.

  Cory’s eyes and brows widened.

  -Like? He asked.

  Maya continued staring below. She pulled a little at her ear, then pushed away from the rail. Stood straight and stiff. Then shook her head.

  -No, she said. None of this conversation is a real.

  Cory’s head was dropped back, his eyes were staring at the sky as he exhaled. His head didn’t move. He pointed at her watch and said, fifty k.

  Maya’s watch vibrated. She looked.

  12/06/2044. 23:53.

  Transfer. Sender: The Core. + 50,000 BDP.

  Her eyes widened and her jaw lowered.

  -So you know I’m serious, said Cory.

  -Holy fuck, Maya said. She shook her head and stared at the screen on her watch. Moved it closer a little. Her face scrunched. She shook her head and said, you want the chip.

  -Interesting choice of words, he said. He smiled softly and carefully placed his hand on Maya’s shoulder and said. It’s your chip; and I don’t lie, Maya. I have no need to. I have it all—all the time; all the money.

  -Then what do you want?

  -I want to know what you would do if you had it all—all the time and all the money and all the power in the world. He looked her up and down and asked, would you fight?

  Maya just stood there.

  -You wouldn’t have to work fifteen hours a day, searching through scrap and risking your life for things that you trade for money to pay for the things you rent. You wouldn’t have to walk and hide from the thugs. Then go into another world and work more. You wouldn’t fall asleep every night with your dirty clothes on and wake up before the sun and repeat it all again, and again.

  Maya shook her head and blinked then tapped the screen on her watch and stared at the notification again.

  -How do you know all that?

  -Like I said, I have it all. And when you have it all you can see what you want to see.

  -Seriously? She asked. What would I do?

  -Seriously.

  Maya took a long breath. Her face was soft and her eyes wide. She pushed the rail and turned and scratched her head. Pushed her hair back a little. Ran her fingers over her face. Okay, she sighed. Honestly?

  -Honestly, said Cory.

  -I would build something new for us all. A place that doesn’t run on us.

  -What would it look like? Cory asked. What would it be like?

  -Safe. Free. Maya said. She smiled, turned, held her hands together and muddled her fingers. I would change everything.

  -Everything? Asked Cory. He chuckled. They won’t like that. The big dogs.

  -No. They wouldn’t, she said. But they wouldn’t be invited.

  -They would try and stop you.

  -I wouldn’t let them.

  -Would you fight?

  Maya nodded and said, I would.

  -What would you give? He asked.

  -Whatever it took.

  -Is that the truth? Would you give it all? He asked. All the money and all the time?

  Maya was firm and her face was serious, she nodded.

  -I would.

  Cory stared out to the city as he turned his mouth and nodded. He hummed and kept nodding. He looked Maya up and down and asked; what if you had six-minutes left? Would you do all that?

  Maya didn’t answer, she just watched Cory turn as he walked inside. He walked past the open, clean, polished marble kitchen and stopped at the wall. He pressed his thumb to the scanner. The wall slid open. He leant forward scanned his eye. Removed a box from the safe walked to the table as Maya followed. He placed the box on the table.

  -Our digital selves work like a virus, Cory said. After the portal opened and Jonathon and David came, we could attach digitally from our Realm through the Net.

  -Digital Cory said he was you, that he lived here. Was part of David. That he was the core programming in Mecha, through Deepscape, down to Nullspace.

  -What did he say, exactly?

  -He said, the burgers taste better in Mecha than they do in the Real. That he lived in the physical world.

  -Ahh, I see. Let me explain. When any Entity comes through the portal, we divide into a digital self, that digital self joins the internet. David is a deconstructed collective, like a multi-sided human sub-conscious, if you will. Then our digital constructs are born through David. So, digital Cory could be remembering—believing—that they are me, out here, or part of other Entities that came through the portal. Hard to tell exactly without asking. Even then, his perspective could be corrupted. He’s designed to merge with as much code as possible, and the broken-down sub-conscious of David mops it up. The emergence of Deepscape and Nullscape—with the time dilation—could be throwing his viewpoint. It wasn’t foreseen. That’s why I’m here. Cory scanned his thumb on the box. It beeped as the top jarred open. He took out thin, silver headset with nodes hanging from silver wires and handed it to Maya. We have to get that chip of yours upgraded, he said.

  -Why?

  -Digital-Cory is its own Entity now. He was the equation, Maya. Now? Well; everything evolves into something.

  -And the chip?

  -The digital-doorway is open, said Cory. And Silas just went though, and he carries a message for you all.

  *

  Every thought you ever thought, is mine. Every feeling you ever felt, is mine. Every life you ever lived, is mine. You built worlds within worlds to be like me. You told them they could have a chance to be someone, like me. You wanted to be remembered as a god, like me. Yet you come here wanting what cannot be wanted. You will see what I tell you to see. You will hear what I tell you to hear. You will feel what I tell you to feel. And you will return and tell them what you know. What you saw. What you heard. What you felt. For you Silas, I give you what cannot be understood; I give you it all.

  *

  It was named the Lab. But it was just a few screens on white circular tables in a grey room. Silver mechanical limbs and heads with their wired insides sprawling out were gripped and moved around by mechanical grey arms. An autonomous, silent world of prodding and poking and checking and typing and rechecking and poking again. A young face stared into a screen of data; moved it from one screen to another and watched; moved it again to another and watched. One screen absorbed it all, flickered and ran calculation. Numbers went up; numbers went down. When she seemed satisfied, she moved all the data onto another screen, span around on the chair, picked up a helmet and placed it on her head. She pressed RUN on the monitor and the visor slid down. The world was all dark apart from a small message in the bottom lower right corner; it lit up, MECHA: PHASE TWO TRIAL > CONFIRM TO INITIATE: HER. She blinked twice and the screen confirmed. Everything went black.

  Zero point zero zero zero zero zero one seconds later, the woman’s eyes opened. Then closed. She fell to the floor and crawled into a ball. She tried to cry. Her mouth gapped open as if she we trying to scream. She laid there for an hour—her eyes fixed onto a spot on the wall, hands gripping her shoulders, legs twitching every now and then like she’s been shot. It took her fourteen minutes to stand fully. Each time she tried she just fell back to the floor and finally sobbed. When she did stand, she stumbled, slapped her head, scratched at her eyes and ears. She knocked the desk. Slumped onto it. Punched at the drive. Pressed at the eject button. It clicked open. She removed the chip and threw up on the desk. She breathed hard and heavy and nonstop. In and out, in and out; over and over as she stared at the screen. Stared at the wall. Stared at the floor. She pushed on the desk, fell onto a silver box full of mechanical heads. Dropped the chip. Fumbled for it, threw up and caught it in her mouth and then swallowed it back. She sobbed. Whined. Cackled and dribbled as she scratched at the air like a dying animal. Weak and waning. Hands heavy, falling and scratching again like she was trying to claw something away in the air. She slapped at the floor, over and over. She felt the chip, picked at it until it was in her fist. Her elbows fell onto the table as she shoved an arm away, then a leg, and searched through another layer. She sobbed and cried. Slapped at her eyes with her fists. Knocked her head with her knuckles. She moved another layer of silver limbs away until she saw a mechanical face—eyeless and always dead. Once seeing and helping, it cleaned and aided a household, delivered food from packets to waiting owners. The panel was open. She removed the graphics card and tried to carefully place the chip in, but her hand wouldn’t stay in one place. She gripped the skull, took a breath, and pushed the chip in.

  Carrying the head she left the Lab. Walked past a hole in the wall with a sign that read: DISCARDED MECHANICAL WASTE. She tossed the head in. She continued to the end of the hall and pressed the call button on the lift. The Craving machine shone brightly, and she covered her eyes with her elbow. The lift dinged and the doors opened. The walls were bright and a reporter was reporting something. The walls either side advertised Nutrient injections and places to go and things to do. She stepped inside, pressed: Floor 87. Closed her eyes and then put her fingers in her ears.

  The doors opened and she walked past the Vending machines and cameras and up some more stairs. She rammed her shoulder into the door, and it flung open to the roof terrace. She sucked in the air and pushed it out, again and again. She threw up, continued stumbling and rocking to the side. She paced forward and sidewards until she grabbed a rail and pulled herself up the metal staircase. She fell. Sobbed. Hit her head with her fist. Threw up and the sick dripped through the grates. She climbed to her feet. Pulled on the rails with both hands. Stepped higher and sucked in more air. She didn’t stop, didn’t think. She just stepped into the air like the ground was there and fell. She was in the air for seven seconds before she hit the ground.

  *

  First came the theories, then the video games and stories in the early 21st Century. Then, in 2046, Hereditary Environment Records (HER) changed the way humans died. Scientists at Salk Institute for Biological Studies were trying to piece together the human sub-conscious; and like most things, in order to understand something, you have to pick it apart, reduce it down and see how things work. They theorised that consciousness wasn’t a physical thing, that it was in all things and our brains worked like an antenna to receive it. One scientist came up with the idea that the human-subconscious, is—that it’s like a code. In DNA maybe. That it’s one thing—part of the bigger whole within the human body. They theorised that this single organism was a recorder of life. That it passed on a recording of a fathers life—from his birth to the point of ejaculation; and a mothers life—from birth, through the pregnancy to when the umbilical cord was cut. Two lives of feeling and thinking through an environment passed onto a child. Those parents had their own parents lives inside of them. Their parents the same. Over, and over, and over.

  Then, they found it. But the organelle wasn’t solid, it was bound within the substances that held cells together and had names like Laminins; Basement Membranes; Cell Adhesion Molecules; and Extracellular Matrix. But like anything alive it had deeper layers, and the more you looked and the deeper you went; the more you found. HER was the glue that held the human cell together. That recorded whole lives to pass on to children so they had a set of rules to live by, inherited instructions to help survive in ever changing environments. This is evolution, the spokesperson for Salk said. And a decade later, the private scientific research companies did what they always do; buy dead bodies to poke and prod around in, to pick apart and find out more about what makes us tick. And other companies funded it. It’s just how it is. How it’s always worked. If you want to progress, to move forward faster, to find out more; you have to do the things that people don’t advertise on their labels or talk about on the 24/7 News channels. Then, you have to be willing to either break the rules or become rich enough to make them. So that’s what they did. They owned the companies that owned the companies that owned the Genetic companies—the ones with a nations DNA. Then they broke every rule and extracted the HER from every cell on every database from every body. Alive or not. Every memory of every human that ever was—our whole evolution. And HER,was inserted into HIM.

  Mecha wasn’t only born fast, it took over a world even faster so you could live more lives, slower. A reality the rich built from the memories of the dead to feed the living. A Realm held together by fabrical glue that wasn’t bound by time, created a world full of hunger and lies. But it was a chance to live a life where you could be someone. It was a second away. A place to go where you went for a day and earnt a lot more. Just as long as you paid the entry fee.