Operation: Awakening

Chapter 0

I brought death with every delivery. It came in a cube wrapped in black plastic.

“Got your delivery here,” I said, holding out the package. The dim room was grimy; askew cupboards lined the wall beside a broken-down refrigeration unit. The door had been busted off its magnetic rollers and discarded in the hallway. A couple of beaten-up couches did nothing to make the room more comfortable. It might have been the break room of the abandoned manufacturing plant once; now, it was a pitiful hideout. 

Still, I flashed the customer a grin; service with a smile and all that. 

Buggy eyes stared out from too high up his egg-shaped head, one of those thug types with no neck, “Wasn’t expecting no delivery,” he said, lounging on one of the couches. He made no move to accept the delivery, instead opting to make me cross the room to him.

Data flashed across my HUD; heart rate, cortisol levels, aggression percentage, and aug assessment. 

“Recipient is unlikely to respond positively to being found” CHIP-17 communicated directly into my audio interface. My AI assistant was useful for a lot of things but it still lacked the situational awareness not to state the obvious. I’d need to adjust its programming. Again.

“Look, bud, it’s got your name on it. That’s all I know,” I shook the package at him again. It was a routine delivery and if I didn’t reach my quota I’d get called in for a full assessment; Biometrics, Psychological, Customer Service, and Delivery Aptitude. If that didn’t go well, I’d end up with a manager blabbing in my ear and a body cam on my chest making everything more of a hassle.

He grumbled then finally took it, “Not sure how you even found me here.”

My HUD lit up, transmitting his biometric data from the haptic packaging and confirming the delivery.

“I just follow the directions the computer gives me,” I said, checking over the data. Dimitri Chekosvich; wanted for arson, human trafficking, and known ties to data extractors. Seems like a nice guy. No wonder he had been hard to find. 

Except with that kind of trouble, he won’t be pleased that some punk Wallrunner had showed up at his hideout. Just my luck. 

I turned to go.

Dimitri’s meaty hand grabbed my shoulder, “Going already?”

It was a rhetorical question but I answered anyway, “there’s a reason they trust me to haul these packages. Nothing stops me from making my deliveries,” I spun, pulling away, driving with my Big Wheezie’s Muscle Enhancers, augs that enhanced biomolecular muscle feedback, allowing me to safely push my augmented strength to its max. Dimitri struggled to hold on. 

I broke free and launched across the room.

Heavy feet slapped the floor chasing after me but it didn’t matter; he wouldn’t make it far.

We got out into the hallway before it happened. 

A deep hum followed by a series of clicks and crackling. I hated to look back, I already knew what would come next, but I did it anyway. Call it some sort of sick pleasure, or morbid curiosity, or maybe it’s just a natural instinct to watch out for predators in case they come for me next.

The black death machines came in the same packaging but they were always different. This one was a whirlwind of tentacles and spinning blades amid a cloud of toxic fumes. It swung from tentacle to tentacle, scuttling along the ceiling and flinging itself at Dimitri. It arced through the air, latching its tentacles around his neck and pulling its blades into him.

The poor bastard didn’t even have time to scream.

I kept moving, barely escaping the splatter of blood that rained down. These things usually self-destruct once they were finished. I’d delivered enough of them to know, even though I still had no idea who sent them. It was all part of the job; find the recipient, let the machine bring it to justice, and don’t die in the process. It wasn’t much but it was honest work, and the streets were better for it.

I darted through the next door, cut left through the empty lobby of the manufacturing plant, and hurried past a reception desk with no monitor or chair or anyone there to wish me a good day. 

Rude.

Still, that was the easy part.

Outside, two more thugs guarded the entrance. They knew something was up as soon as I burst out the door. Maybe it was my heavy breathing or the blood on my shoes from Dimitri’s meeting with the black death machine. Either way; they reached inside their heavy jackets, sneering as they pulled out electro-magnums; handheld railguns capable of turning me into hunks of sizzling flesh.

That was my queue to leave. 

“You boys have a good day and don’t forget to leave a five-star review,” I shouted over my shoulder, sprinting down the deserted street. Derelict warehouses lined each side, and the foamcrete was cracked and chipped. It was dotted with open holes, some wide enough for a person. Nobody lived in this section of the city and it had been left to decay. The lack of maintenance was exactly what I needed.

I was halfway to the alley ahead when the first shot rang out. It hit the ground near my feet, sparking and crackling, and sending up a cloud of shattered slivers.

“Calculating shot trajectory,” CHIP said, its monotone voice was calm and undisturbed by our current near-death predicament. The data fed directly into my neural net, letting me anticipate where they aimed and react intuitively.

The next shot whipped by my shoulder as I jerked to the side. Still, it was too close for comfort. 

Two more shots missed their target as I cut left, and right, faked another right, and went left into the alley. 

One of these days I’d plan my exit strategy in advance. 

I vaulted over a dumpster, and the man in tattered rags sleeping against it, without slowing down. More shots clip the side of the warehouse, exploding in sparks and shards. They’d turned up the damage output. Never a good sign.

My alley met another one. I turned left at the intersection, crushing broken glass and needles and scattered motherboards stripped for parts with each step. Ahead, a section of the foamcrete ground of this level had crumbled away. Chunks of the low-density cellular concrete came loose as I skidded to a stop beside the hole. They plummeted, breaking up as they fell until all that remained was a scattering cloud of dust.

Far below, the distant street of the next level was barely visible. Flickering lights looked like stars in the wrong direction and the noise that made it this high was barely more than an incoherent hum. 

It was my ticket out of here.

I poked my head through the hole. Most of the ceilingscrapers, mega-structures that supported the next level, were too far away; barely more than silhouettes in the shadows. One was close though, a circular tower lined with metal rings. Its windows were dark at this height; below, others were lit with different colors; orange, blue, dark, yellow, green, dark, and on, repeating till it reached the floor of the level. 

Shouts and shots rang through the alley but the guards were too slow.

I leaned forward and dropped through the opening. My Psychosomatic Manipulators took the edge off the fear and panic of falling, boosting my adrenaline and focus while suppressing the cortisol and death response. I jammed my left arm forward, clenched my fist, and engaged my grappleshot. 

A black streak shot out from within my sleeve, hurtling towards the building. 

There was a thunk. The cable drew tight, pulling me towards the ceilingscraper. My boots hit the window with a crack, shattering it as I made my entrance. I hit the ground, rolling, and retracting my grappleshot. 

Just another Tuesday. 

Chapter 1

I stepped out on level twenty, pushing out of the crowded public lift. Hundreds of people poured out of the massive elevator, filling the already choked station as they moved between levels. Most went directly to wait for another lift, a few went in the direction of the shops and stalls that littered the side of the platform. Nobody made any move towards the exit of the station.

Except me.

My last delivery had taken me close to the Edge. I wasn’t in a rush to complete my next one. Steps ahead lead out of the station. It wasn’t a place anyone in their right mind would hangout in; grimy tiles, dim flickering lights, musty bodies, and too many voices. I did my best to avoid traveling levels during busy hours but this would be worth it. The sun would be setting soon.

Out on the street, rundown apartment complexes and deteriorating infrastructure were my only companions. This neighborhood had been neglected for centuries by the Paradise Protocol. Instead, the last of humanity took shelter in other parts of the city and resources were diverted there. 

Still, electricity passed through this level; drawn to more populated places far above.

Most of the street lights were dead and a handful of flickering blue, orange, and yellow neon signs struggled to remain lit. It did little to push back the gloom. My implants dialed up the brightness enough to make it seem like a sunny day. 

A dozen burned-out hover cars clogged the street near the station; their plasma turbines had been dead longer than they had been in use, leftover remnants from the earlier days within the Dome. Energy was too precious to waste on personal vehicles.

A feral dog crossed between the cars. Its black fur was matted and tangled and its ribs showed through its skin and fur. It saw me and snarled.

I kicked a broken bottle in its direction. The dog’s snarl turned to a whimper before it scampered off. Too many people used them as target practice, or worse, and the strays had learned quickly not to trust people. 

I headed down the street, keeping an eye on the windows and alleyways, and turning up the volume on my audio implants. These parts of the city often became a refuge for those with nowhere else to go and nothing left to lose. That type was bad enough but they weren’t a concern unless they got close.

Ahead, a blocky apartment complex was condemned and barricaded off, quarantined from a long ago infection. 

Around the corner, on the next block, there was a compound; a low-rise mixed-use building with a gray exterior and blacked-out windows, fenced off with barbed wire at the top and guards patrolling the perimeter. 

It was the ones that were already here, running surveillance and protecting their operations, that were the real threat. Unregulated augmentation factories, synthetic neurochemical labs, and more, all protected their secrets. 

I backed up to the last intersection, keeping an eye on the compound. They hadn’t noticed me, or they didn’t think I was a threat as I backed off. Either way, I cut across to the next street and continued towards the Edge.

The streets were brighter here, a soft glow pervaded everything and ahead, a lonely sunbeam fell on a blown-out storefront. 

After another couple of turns, I reached the Edge. The buildings tapered off and then there was nothing as this level came to an abrupt end. A thin waist high railing was the only thing that would prevent someone from walking off into the gap between the city and the Dome.

Beyond that, open sky, clear and blue with the sun drifting towards the horizon. A vibrant green landscape stretched in every direction, rolling with hills, dotted with glimmering lakes, with mountains in the distance. Trees and bushes and plants of every kind covered the hills and valleys, unattainably close. 

It was easy to see why people avoided the Edge; after living so long with another level always over their heads the openness was unsettling. 

Like I could fall into it forever. 

If it wasn’t for the Dome and gravity. 

Most days it was hard to see but today the sun caught it at the right angle causing streaks of light to refract in iridescent arcs. The Dome encased the whole city. 

Our prison. 

Our sanctuary. 

All that was left of humanity lived inside the Dome as the world moved on without us. Nobody knew how long it had been since the Dome was built, and few people cared anymore. It was all we had ever known, and the Paradise Protocol took care of everything we could need inside the Dome.

That was the other reason most people avoided the Edge. What was there to see? Something we could never actually enjoy. It would only remind us of what we lost. Instead, we had the Online Multiverse; where we could feel the sand between our toes and the rain drops dripping off of ancient trees and anything else humanity could dream of. It was a hollow replacement for the things we couldn’t even remember losing but for most people it was more than enough.

I sat down on the Edge, dangling my feet off the side and hanging my arms over the railing. The lower levels were barely visible, each one slightly farther out than the one before it. Above, everything else was hidden behind the next level. Its underside was black foamcrete, covering the structural framework and the cables, pipes, and other infastructure that kept society functioning on every level. 

A whole city, lost in its indulgences. 

Even as it fell apart. 

“CHIP, you think we’ll ever get out there again?” I said to KT, my thoughts transmitted to its program via my implants

“This question goes beyond my parameters, please rephrase,” CHIP responded.

That’s what I get for trying to engage in existential discourse with a basic AI program. If I had one with real sentience it would able to do more but I had cobbled together CHIP from a program kit and my own code. It wasn’t programmed for hypotheticals.

A notification chimed; incoming call. Randel Diaz, Wallrunners Express. It was never a good day when my supervisor called me. 

I flicked my eyes to the side, answering it. A small square unfolded in the front left side of my field of view. Randel’s hideous face stared back at me. His bulbous nose was covered in warts and if he got any more wrinkles his skin would start to fall off his face. 

“What are you doing, Kadir?” he said, squinting at me through his thick-rimmed glasses. He was old school, prefering tech to implants.

“Just on break, having a bite to eat,” I dug into my pack for lunch. Vending machine sandwiches and a protein bar. The ideal meal for work; quick and easy and, most importantly, cheap. The perfect compliment to the view. It was almost a bonafide picnic. 

Only thing that was missing was the blanket. 

“Okay, well hurry up. The system says you got one more delivery.”

“What do you want, Randel? You know I don’t need a babysitter.”

“Haven’t seen you at the office in weeks; you're in and out with your packages before anyone gets here. I get confirmation on the delivery but still…” Randel paused, chewing on his next words. He was wearing one of his nice shirt today; no stains, and a buttoned-up collar. Unusual. “Starting next week, you’ll check in each shift. If you don’t… If you don’t then your contract will be terminated.”

“I’ll take it under consideration,” I said. He was bluffing. I was their top runner. They wouldn’t fire me. Even if they did, I did some freelance work for the Den and I’d find other work. Whatever I had to do to maintain my augs.

“I’m serious Kadir. You got a good thing here. It’s worth holding onto,” he leaned forward, “It’s Xu’s birthday today. Rest of the office is going for drinks after work. At the V Lounge. They upgraded their holo-screens. Even added sand to the floor and a small wadding pool. Almost like being at a beach. It’s probably disgusting,” he shrugged, “but you should come be part of the team.”

“I gotta go, work to do.” 

“Maybe if you put in a little effort, you’d see that you're an asset.”

“Are we done here?”

Randel rolled his eyes and then nodded. 

I clicked off the call, and took a bite from my sandwich. Imitation ham and cheese from one of the replication factories. Not the worst but certainly not the best. I couldn’t afford real cheese, let alone real meat but the artificial stuff tasted almost identical. Even if it had the texture of soft plastic.

I wasn’t going to let Randel manipulate me. He wanted me to check in, come out to work functions, and act like some sort of leader for the crew. Instead, he would just have to find someone to replace me.

I’d find a way to get by.

I had to.

The sun sunk closer to the horizon. Its golden light gave everything a warm glow and made the colors of the foliage pop even more. A lake in the distance sparkled and shone. 

It was intoxicating. All that life, growing and soaking up the sun and rain. No gray or black in sight. No graphene, plastic composites, or foamcrete. Just pure life. 

“It’s beautiful, eh CHIP?”

“I am incapable of perceiving beauty. However, human beings were once fascinated by the natural world. Would you like me to prepare a trip to the old growth forest for the next time you go Online?”

After a moment, CHIP returned to its task.

Out there amongst all the plants, animals would be scrounging for food, fighting for survival against their predators and the elements. We should be there with them, with our feet in the dirt and breathing the fresh air. 

Except that we would die in minutes if it ever happened. The Dome kept us safe. Even if we could leave, several strains of polycyclic hydrocarbon viruses would infect anyone that stepped outside the Dome. They were lethal, incurable and constantly mutating. Anyone could check the data but few ever did; it was always the same.

Instead, I was content with watching it all in the distance. Like a holographic painting, something I could see but would never actually touch. Sure, with the right neurological input, it could feel real but it was still just an approximation. Most people were satisfied with that. It was all we’d ever known. Maybe a distant ancestor of mine used to walk through those same forests, not realizing how precious it was. 

Beauty was wasted on the desensitized. 

Eventually the sun dipped below the horizon, leaving a luminous dusk in its place.

I dug through my satchel for the last package, pulling up my Wallrunners UI for its details. Nothing. No address or name or data. The package was oblong and wrapped in thick brown paper. Nobody would waste something as expensive as paper to wrap a package. Especially for a black death machine. Those always came in a cube wrapped in black plastic. On the bottom was a label. 

I scanned the label then read it again, just to be sure.

It was addressed to me. 

Nobody at the Wallrunners knew my address. 

If it was a regular delivery then it should have been activated as soon as I had collected it. Given that I hadn’t been ripped to shreds yet, there might be something else in the package. Not even Randel knew where the black death machines come from. Something else getting mixed up in our deliveries wasn’t impossible. I knew I shouldn’t open it. 

Still… Who would send me anything?

“CHIP analyze this for threats, top priority.”

A threat analysis popped up in my HUD, assessing it for explosives, poisons, viruses, and anything else that might cause me harm. 

The scan completed, nothing inside would kill me but there was some anomalous readings that CHIP couldn’t identify. It was still risky opening the thing but I needed some evening entertainment anyways.

Rule one was never open the package. Rule two was do not let the recipient know about our operation. It kept us alive and kept us in business. Discretion and Anonymity; that was the company motto. 

Here I was, about to break the most holiest of rules in my line of work. 

I tore into the package, shredding through the black plastic and freeing a clear box from it. Inside, a computer chip connected to a pressurized valve, and nestled amongst it all was a vial of translucent green liquid that sparkled as it swirled. There were words etched into the side of the box in rough scratches; the art of repair is to balance the terror of life with the beauty of it.

The clear box buzzed and rattled as the green liquid began to steam. Before I could chuck the thing over the Edge, the steam spewed out through a tiny hole. I dropped the box and scrambled backwards, exhaling even as it was too late. 

A steady hum filled my ears and a sharp tingle ran up my fingers into my palms and spread through my arms. The hum turned into a roar, reverberating through me. Tingling permeated my torso, building into a steady buzzing sensation. 

Everything started to shake and vibrate.

My eyes rolled into the back of my head.

Darkness. 

It swallowed me, pulling me deeper and deeper into a space with no end. Boundless, formless, and lost amongst it all but being carried towards something. 

Colors blossomed in a spiraling iridescent vortex. Streaks of every color spun in thick layers until they coalesced into forms and shapes. They took on more definition, developing further until all of the mashed-together colors and textures reoriented into a peaceful glade.

Tall trees loomed above, and their leaves swayed gently in the breeze. Everywhere burst with life. Tiny bugs crawled on the gnarled tree bark. Squirrels scampered through the grass, digging in the dirt. 

A pile of sticks were stacked in a patch of bare dirt. I kneeled before it and my hands moved on their own, striking a spark from two different pieces of metal. The wood caught, igniting into a brilliant blaze. 

Its warmth engulfed me, bringing with it comfort and peace. 

Around the edge of the glade half-seen people watched in silence; even as they kneeled, striking sparks and lighting their own fires. Their features came into focus, joyful smiles and clear eyes intent on their fires.

The flames grew, dancing higher and higher, spreading through the glade.

Screaming shattered the silence.

The vision shook at the sound, a ripple that coursed through the people and plants, pulling them away even as the inferno engulfed them. Words flashed, bright white against the disorienting mash of colors; Local Network Linked.

It all came apart at the seams, every detail separating from the others, stripped away one by one until nothing was left.

Only me.

I sat up, drenched in sweat. 

The sky was dark on the other side of the Dome, except for the splatter of stars that spilled across it. 

What. Was. That.

Religious goons would call it a vision from the Conscious City, the tech junkies would call it a regular lunch break dose, and the working class would push it from their minds and keep doing what they had to to survive.

I was okay with not knowing.  I saw weirder things everyday in the Online Multiverse. That didn’t mean I was going to pretend it didn’t happen. Just that I wasn’t going to make my head explode trying to figure it out.

It could be some kid’s idea of a prank, or a new synthetic compound that someone was testing out. I’d heard of a new drug going around too; Digiphine. A programable psychedelic wetware that allowed the users to re-write nueral pathways. Most people were using it to simulate the experience of nirvana, convincing themselves that they were in heaven regardless of external circumstances.

The stuff was even supposed to be green too. 

Whatever it was, I initiated a full system diagnostic and set CHIP to analyze whatever was left of the compound in my respiratory system. If something had gotten into my body and aug network I’d find it, and neutralize it before it could do any damage.