Pulse: A Collection of Short and Flash Science Fiction Page 8

  “What do you mean we have another hour delay? This is intolerable! I want to speak to your manager…Natalie,” he growled as he peered at the gate agent’s nametag. “I want to speak to your supervisor! I want answers!” the disgruntled passenger said as he loomed over the gate attendant. She looked at him calmly with not a speck of fear in her eyes. Her two fellow agents were seemingly nonplussed as well.

  “Mr. Brenan, please take a seat. At last check, the storm is subsiding, and we should be able to start boarding in another hour or so. Yelling at my associates or me will not improve the weather that is causing the delays. Please, sit down and calm yourself,” Natalie said with a soft but firm voice.

  Mr. Brenan, Bob according to his luggage tag, seemed unsatisfied. He looked like he was going to start yelling again, so I decided to step in and calm him down with my wit and wisdom.

  “Mr. Brenan. Bob, may I call you Bob?” I asked with a smile. “My name is Skip Hoskins, and I’m with airport security,” I said, flashing my badge and ID. “Please, do as Natalie requests. Things could get unpleasant if you don’t comply.”

  “What do you mean by unpleasant?’” he asked with a small quiver in his voice.

  “Um, well, I’m not supposed to tell you this,” I said, pulling him aside, but, Natalie, there, can get a might bit out of control,” I said as I turned and smiled at her. She smiled back, which seemed to scare Bob a little.

  “How so?” Bob asked.

  “Well, you have heard about the reptoids living in Dulce, haven’t you? You know the reptilian aliens that took over the secret military base there?”

  Bob nodded as he became visibly calmer. I glanced up and saw several other passengers hanging around eavesdropping on our conversation.

  “Well, I have it on good authority that all of the employees here at this airport are reptoids. Present company excluded, of course.”

  At this point, all of the passengers are standing near Bob and listening while keeping me between them and the gate agents.

  “Bob, between you and me, I heard those reptoids can get mean if you yell at them. You do know that this airport has not had one security breach since the 1960’s? There are stories about a few malcontents disappearing, but those are just stories, right?” I said as I turned again and smiled at Natalie, who, again smiled back.

  Bob was now turning a few shades whiter as were a number of passengers. I could see that I had diffused the situation, so I finished with the standard disclaimer.

  “Bob, now those are just stories, but one never knows. Personally, I have never seen a reptoid, I have known Natalie for several months, and she seems nice. I suggest that you and your fellow travelers sit down and enjoy the downtime until boarding, ok?”

  Bob nodded and headed for a seat as did the rest of the passengers. Soon, the snowstorm abated and the delayed flight arrived. All of the waiting passengers calmly boarded through the jet way, leaving Skip and the gate agents in an empty concourse.

  As Skip watched the plane depart the gate and taxi out to the runway, he heard Natalie’s voice.

  “Skip, what did you tell them to calm them down so quickly? One minute they were ready to storm the castle, and the next they were sitting in their seats as calm as you please.”

  “I just hinted that you and the rest of the airport employees were reptoids living in Dulce. They sort of bought it which made them think twice about causing you guys' grief,” he said as he turned away from the windows to face Natalie and the other two agents. As he looked at the three, their outlines shimmered as they became three smiling reptilian figures wearing airport uniforms. Natalie walked up to him, gave him a peck on the cheek followed by a fist bump while he stared at her reptoid visage.

  “Thanks, buddy, we owe you one,” she said as she shimmered back into human form and joined the other agents as they walked out of the airport.

  I had learned an important lesson that day. As is true in so many science fiction movies, when all else fails, blame the aliens.

  First, You Must Die

  The operating room lights dimmed, then disappeared. I lay there surrounded by the featureless mist as my mind readjusted to the shifting reality of cyberspace.

  “Atticus, can you hear me?” a voice asked from somewhere else. “This is Tina. I’m in the control room. Please respond.”

  “I’m fine, Tina,” I called out as my memories returned in a sudden flood and the room around me solidified. “Time check, please. How long until detonation?”

  “Eighteen minutes...mark!”

  I looked at my wrist and saw that I now had a wristwatch that was counting down from “18:00.” Cool, cyberspace was fun, except for the dying thing.

  “Atticus, look around. You should see a doorway marked ‘CPU.’ Go through it.”

  I looked up and found the door. As I watched, my surroundings got more detailed. I needed to move. This could become my permanent home if that bomb went off.

  “I’m on it,” I said as I got to my feet and ran through the doorway. “I’m through. Now what?”

  “Take the passage to another doorway. It will be marked “security.” The passcode is alpha-3-5-7-exclamation point-2-2-3. That will get you through the door into the main CPU chamber. Call me when you get there.”

  The hallway was getting really detailed now with phantom figures starting to fill the passage. These phantoms represented data flowing to and from the CPU as well as programs running on the system. My cyber-self was starting to synch with computer time. Normally, I would wait for full synch, but I didn’t have time for that now.

  I made it to the door and tried the code. Nothing happened. I tried again, but still nothing.

  “Tina, the code isn't working. Got another one?” I asked.

  “He must have changed codes. Atticus, he knows you’re there. Get out, now!”

  I looked at my watch-it read:”5:00.”

  “No time, Tina. Load a lock pick.

  A shady-looking character appeared in front of me and started to work on the lock. I grabbed it at the base of its neck and interfaced it directly to my corporeal cerebral cortex. This multiplied its computing power by a factor of 10,000. The danger was that I could burn out my brain. This time, though, the lock pick worked and the door unlocked.

  I burst through the door and saw my goal. In front of me was a large clock attached to an antique detonator. I had to separate the two before the clock struck noon. Once I did that, I could disconnect from the system by pressing the return subway token I had in my pocket. I reached for the clock.

  “Stop or I’ll scramble you.”

  I turned to find myself looking at an ancient ray gun aimed at me. Holding it was Jeremy Stodlt, rogue Cyber Cop and bomber.

  “Jeremy, put the gun down. We can help you. We can reintegrate you with your body,” I lied to buy some time. He was trapped in here for the duration, and he knew it.

  “I don’t think so. I like it here, but I like being the only human here. When the bomb blows, it will destroy the interface system, making it impossible for anyone else to join me in cyberspace. I can run things the way I see fit without interference from the Cyber Patrol. Now, step away from the timer.”

  “Sure, no problem,” I said as I pulled the return token from my pocket. “Here, take this,” I said as I activated it and threw it to him.

  Jeremy screamed as the glowing token hit him in the chest, sending his consciousness back to his body. Problem was he didn’t have a body to return to. It had died when his consciousness was trapped in cyberspace.

  I dove for the timer and slapped the off-button. The timer and detonator shimmered and disappeared as the programs they represented ended.

  I quickly looked around, but found nothing amiss, so I retrieved the token and pressed it, sending my consciousness back to where it belonged.

  I woke up a few hours later with Tina standing over me.

  “How did you do it?” she asked. “Jeremy knew his body was gone, yet he reacted to the token as if
it were real.

  “Conditioning. All Cyber Cops are conditioned to release from Cyberspace and return to their corporeal form when they come in contact with a return token. It’s the only way we can ensure cops returning to the real world. Jerry knew this, but didn’t think I would risk double-using my token. There is a 50-50 chance it won’t work the second time, according to the psychologists that is.”

  “Atticus Wayne, you’re a wonderful, egotistical fool,” Tina said as she gave me a hug.

  Like I always say, another day, another system.

  Cold Time

  Michael carefully placed the plastic bag with the frozen movie negative into the warm water bath. If all goes as planned, we should soon see the last moments recorded by the doomed Jorgensen expedition 50 years ago, he thought to himself.

  He turned away from the bath to look at the obelisk glowing in the middle of the ship’s hold, wondering what he was actually seeing. At first, it resembled a frosted glass pillar filled with swirling lights, yet, if you squinted just right, you could maybe see images. Whatever it was, it couldn’t be picked up by electronics. Perhaps the Jorgensen film recorded something.

  “Michael, have you started thawing out our prize yet?” Dr. Francisco asked as he entered the hold.

  “Yes sir,” I replied. “The bath is at temperature and the film roll is soaking in it.”

  “Great. They just finished the autopsy on one of the frozen bodies we found near the obelisk. Records indicate that he’s James Marensky, Chief Engineer of the Research Vessel Aurora. Cause of death was some type of electrocution.”

  “Electrocution, sir? We have found nothing that could have electrocuted anyone.”

  “Just the same, be careful. How is the rest of your team fairing?”

  “We have scanned the obelisk and are running tests. Sarah and her group are about to open one of the Jorgensen shipping crates. The manifest says ‘Alien Device.’ Jorgensen’s notes say it was found near the wreckage of the alien craft.”

  “His notes make no mention of the obelisk. Have you or your team found anything that may tell us what it is?”

  “No sir, not a clue. I will let you know if we find anything.”

  Dr. Francisco walked out of the hold, leaving Michael and his team to continue their work.

  Two hours later, after the obelisk team left on break and just as Michael was taking the now-thawed Super-8 cassette from the bath, there was a commotion over by the crate. There was a loud crack, followed by a thud and a bright flash of light, which momentarily blinded Michael.

  When his vision cleared, he ran over to Sarah and her team, who were all lying on the ground stunned. Next to them lay the alien device.

  “Sarah, Tim, Larry, is anyone hurt?”

  A chorus of negative replies followed.

  “Sarah, what happened?”

  “Dr. Zamish, we were getting the device out of the crate when Tim slipped. The device fell out of the crate and hit the ground. I think it emitted some type of energy discharge.”

  Michael looked at the device and saw that it was pointing at the now-dark obelisk. Michael ran over to the obelisk and found that it was dead. The energy discharge, whatever it was, had killed it. Michael called Dr. Francisco and gave him the bad news.

  Several hours later, after transferring the once-frozen film to computer, Michael was ready to show the rest of the team the last images recorded by the Jorgensen Expedition.

  The film starts with an empty ship’s hold. From off-camera, a group of people, including the Chief Engineer, brings the obelisk into view on a low cart. As they are taking it off the cart, Chief Engineer Marensky loses his grip and drops his corner of the obelisk on the ground as he steps back. The device lands hard, which seems to activate it. The obelisk shows the interior of an ice-covered room with a figure lifting its head. Suddenly, a bright beam of light is emitted by the obelisk and hits the Chief Engineer, knocking him to the ground. The rest of the occupants of the room also drop to the metal deck, as if struck by lightning. The film abruptly ends.

  No one in the room moves. Michael, in shock, restarts the film at the point where the obelisk activates, and zooms in on the figure in it. He instructs the computer to enhance the figure and play the film forward frame by frame. The figure slowly turns to look at where the light is coming from. It’s Michael, standing in front of the bath and removing thawed film cassette. Just to the right of the beam they could see Sarah, falling back from the weapon’s discharge.

  The only sound was that of the wind blowing across the Antarctic wasteland.

  Printer

  “Mr. Roark, We’re finished. Please sign here,” the technician said, pointing to a line on the work order.

  James signed the form and passed it back to the technician who tore-off a copy and handed it back to him.

  “Thank you, sir. The unit is powered-up and connected to your company’s Net connection. Here are the owner’s manuals, which you can use to familiarize yourself with the unit. The Start-up and Training Team is scheduled to arrive in two days. The unit is locked, but you can run the tutorials. Enjoy,” the tech said as he latched his tool case and put on his coat. “Any questions?”

  James had none, so the tech left him to marvel at his company’s new addition, a state-of-the-art Nimbus Mark 36 Fabricator, the first of its kind.

  James was the owner and CEO of Roark Prototypes, Inc., a small firm that specialized in prototype fabrication. Prior to acquiring the Nimbus, RPI used hand tools, CNC fabrication, and 3D printers to create prototypes. Now, they could create anything using one machine, saving time and money in the process.

  James sat down at his desk and thumbed through the owner’s manuals. He quietly whistled as he read the details of the inner workings of the fabricator. It used 3D printing, CNC, and transmat pad technologies to assemble prototypes using raw materials and prefabricated parts. Detailed CAD drawings were fed into it via the Net while raw materials were transmatted from a supplier. Prefab parts could also be fed in from local suppliers or from a transmat receiver on the outside of the unit. With a terahertz processor, it had enough computing power to fabricate anything. It was a dream come true for the firm.

  James closed the manual, grabbed his coat, and headed for the door. Before turning off the light, he patted the Nimbus and said, “We’re going to go far. Just wait and see.”

  James exited the building leaving the Nimbus humming. After a moment, the status indicator changed from “Locked” to “Active” and scanners on all four sides of the Nimbus bathed the room in light as it cataloged everything in the room. The unit then started assembling something on its built-in assembly table.

  James walked in the next morning to find his employees standing around the Nimbus. On the fabricator’s assembly table was a half-finished device.

  “What’s this?” he said as he peered into the fabricator.

  “Don’t know, boss, it was here when we arrived.”

  James looked at the fabricator’s control panel and saw that the status indicator showed “Locked.” He assumed that this was part of preparing for tomorrow’s scheduled activation.

  “OK, everyone get back to work.”

  The rest of the day was normal as the employees stopped to ogle the Nimbus as they passed by or when they were on break.

  Moments after the lights were off and all the employees left, the Nimbus again went into active mode and scanned the room, then it continued work on the device.

  Morning found everyone once more around the fabricator, this time pointing and talking about it.

  “Now what?” James said as he walked through the front door.

  “The fabricator finished the device. It incorporated a number of items from within the room,” Jose, the shop supervisor, said.

  James walked up and peered into the fabricator. The object inside looked finished even though no one had a clue as to what it was. James could see a number of items from the shop incorporated into the device including a pair of speaker
s, a microphone, a web video camera and a rather expensive tablet computer. James checked and found that the device was still locked.

  They were interrupted by the sound of the receptionist coming through the shop door.

  “Mr. Roark, the Nimbus people are here. Come this way, please.”

  Into the room walked the instructor and startup tech. The tech stepped forward while the instructor went off to set up in a nearby conference room.

  “Where is the unit? I assume that everyone is excited to get started,” Samuel said as he rolled-up his sleeves.

  “The unit is right over here, but it seems to have gotten a jump on all of us. We were wondering what you had programmed it to make before you arrived.”

  “Excuse me?” the tech said as he quickly walked over to the unit. “We didn’t program it to make anything…” The tech stopped dead when he saw the device sitting in the unit. “This can’t be,” he said with a look of utter shock.

  As if on cue, the front of the Nimbus opened and the device rolled-out onto a holding shelf.

  “So Bob,” James said to the tech as he read his nametag. “What the hell is that thing?”

  “Sir, I have no idea. The unit is locked, so it can’t be accessed. Somehow, something got past several locking and encryption protocols to fabricate that device. I can assure you, it isn’t from Nimbus. I need to call the office, so please excuse me.”

  As Bob started dialing his phone, the strange device activated. Everyone in the shop froze.

  “Hello, anyone there?” a voice coming from the device said.

  James, looking perplexed, walked up to the device and answered, “Hello? Can I help you?”

  “Yes, yes you can. I have a Model 357 Zimwalt that needs repair, so I need an RMA number.”

  “A Model 357 Zimwalt? What’s that?”

  “Geez, don’t they teach you people in Customer Service anything. Here, let me show you,” the voice said as the tablet computer and web cam activated.