This one’s a little on the long side, but I think the payoff is worth it!
Barry took a long drag on the vape. The thing was ancient, held together by duct tape and dreams, and completely illegal. But it did what it was supposed to. His lungs filled with a combination of nicotine and THC. It was his own blend, and it was the only thing that kept him going on his job. Well, that and the fact that he honestly had no choice. Thanks to the AI strike of ‘54, the work he did was unfit for free humans and artificial intelligences.
“948-zed-3793, you have taken your allotted 30-second break. You have five minutes and thirty-seven seconds to make it to your next stop. Have a productive day. A lack of success comes from too much excess!” The voice was flat and vaguely feminine.
“I’d be more productive it you’d shut up.” He disassembled the vape, tucked the metal and plastic parts into the slash pocket of his brown jumpsuit, and walked over to his flitter. The superscrapers around him towered hundreds of stories into the air. His next delivery was at level one-fifty and four blocks northwest, according to the readout on his dash. It would take about four minutes to get there, given air traffic. “Hi ho, Silver.”
The flitter’s AI chimed to life. “En route to the next stop, Kimo Sabe.” The voice stuttered just a bit on the last s. He’d hacked the software. He couldn’t make it smart enough to carry on a conversation without jeopardizing the routing and autopilot, but at least it sounded less dead.
The floor of the vehicle hummed and vibrated as it leapt into the air. He sat back with one foot on the dash and one hanging out the doorway. The Company couldn’t be bothered to put doors on their flitters. It “slowed down the pace of delivery,” and it probably also saved them millions, if not billions, of credits. At first, the long drop bothered him, but he got used to it. In three years you could get used to a lot.
While he banked and zoomed through air traffic, he looked up the next package. “Let’s see.” He pressed the button for extraction. A door behind and to the right of him opened, and the steel arm pushed out a brown box measuring a meter on a side. “Looks like you’re going to one Rosemary Tizzledoun. What a name. You weigh in at twenty kilos and your core temp is 5-C.” He swiveled in the seat and pulled out a palm-sized hunk of soyplas. He pointed it at the package, and with the click of a button, a series of red lights flashed on the cobbled-together scanner, his “boxcutter”.
A series of internal clicks muttered over the flitter’s engine rattle. The package’s lid popped open, and white fog billowed out. He could feel cold seeping into the air.
A wave of his left hand cleared away the chemical smoke, enough to see the contents. “I’ll be damned. Is that?” The dog had been flash frozen. It looked to be some kind of chihuahua mix. Its feet were affixed to a base of soyplas, the same dimensions as the box. He could see ‘Flashing Ionization - ‘13-’29 Flash was a good dog, yes him was.’ in holographic embossment scrolling around the base’s perimeter.
“Rich people.” Only someone with ridiculous wealth would pull something like this. Truth be told, life was pretty good for almost everyone and had been since his father was a blastocyst. A slice of that life had been available to Barry before the Mistake. Since then, he’d gotten a solid idea of how the bottom rung lived.
He closed the lid and poked at his boxcutter. The block, as brown as his jumpsuit and the skin underneath, beeped and hummed. Soon, the package was as sealed as it had been before. No one would be the wiser. If he were found tampering with Company goods, it would add a year to his contract, and he could be sent to a sorting facility. The thought made him shudder, but it didn’t kill his curious bone.
The flitter stopped at the dock intended for delivery on the hundred twenty-fifth level. These floors were unoccupied, simply a beige space segregated into cubes intended to make any maintenance and deliveries easy and unobtrusive for the owners above. The implant in his neck made the lock cycle open, and he stepped into the dim space beyond. Lights came on as he walked to the cubicle for the floor in question. When he realized it wouldn’t fit into the tube, he swore. Most packages could be zipped up to where they belonged, but this one was a few decimeters too large.
The voice chirped in his head. “One minute to make it to your next stop. Remember, every productive minute is one less on your contract. You can be a self-actualizing citizen in just - “ there was a barely discernible pause - “one million, six hundred twenty thousand, four hundred fifty eight minutes.” He had one minute before he received “correction” for being late. Rather than bitch about the tube not being big enough, he focused on getting to the lift. Thankfully, since it was a freight job, it waited on levels where it was needed. He did have to stand by for a few seconds while it came down from the two hundredth floor. It opened, and he stepped in. Once again, his Minder told the elevator where he was authorized to go. It stopped, and the door in front of him cycled open. He was about a dozen steps from the service door where he’d leave the package when the tremor in his legs hit.
“Thirty seconds.” The voice neutrally informed him. “Have a pleasant ride and think positive thoughts!”
“I’m going. I’m going.” The countdown continued, and he set the package by the door when it got to twenty. Little jolts of electricity worked from his ankles to his groin. He palmed the door, signalling the package’s delivery, and exhaled as the pain disappeared.
“948-zed-3793, you have ten minutes and seventeen seconds to make it to your next stop. I knew you would succeed! Remember, failure is sub-optimal for your journey to a renewed citizenship!”
Barry ran towards the elevator. It was still there, so in seconds he was back in the flitter. His knees were a little weak. “That was close, Silver. Let’s get to the next stop with a little more time to spare, okay?”
“En route to the next stop, Kimo Sabe.” The flitter joyfully informed him.
“Right.” Barry nodded. He could override and try to find a quicker route. He only got three of those a day, though. The Company liked to discourage choice. All that mattered was that he had ten minutes to relax.
He called up the manifest. The next package was a big one - a meter and a half on a side and a hundred kilos. He reached over his head and made sure the pallet jack was there. Like it would be anywhere else.
The package came through the door just like the last one. He really shouldn’t look, but this one was headed for Chronodyne to a cat named Dick Jackson. The contents would be some high-tech shine if he were any judge. He pulled out his boxcutter and tapped on its screen. The encryption on the lock would be a bit tougher than the dog-cicle’s had been. He entered a few commands and brought up the Company’s protocol used to secure more sensitive packages. The extra security was a joke if you were a contractor with more than four working brain cells.
He pointed his invention at the package. It took thirty seconds before the thing emitted a beep, and the lid popped open. He didn’t know what surprised him more, that it took so long or that there was a woman with a gun inside.
“Well, hello there, convict.” The woman’s smile was as white as her skin. Both contrasted sharply with her short jet bob and the black neo-vinyl and vegan leather outfit she had on. None of those things garnered as much attention as the needler in her hand.
Barry knew from experience that the thing would fill you with a hundred slivers of metal in the time it took to blink. That could be easily stopped by body armor, which wasn’t worn by Good Citizens. What happened next depended on what they were coated with. She could kill him, turn him into a mindless drone, or reduce him to a giggling moron. He smiled back at her and kept his hands in plain sight. “Hello there, yourself, woman I don’t know. And we’re not called convicts anymore. We’re contract employees.”
“Really? Contract employees?” The woman shook her head. “I suppose it is more accurate.”
Barry considered putting the lid back on. It should be needler-proof. It might not be. He also might not get it back on quickly enough. “It helps me to think of myself that way.” He wasn’t scared for his life. After all, if he wasn’t useful to her, he’d be dead by now. Stowing away in a delivery truck and possessing a needler got you incinerated. Killing him was the least offense she’d have committed. “How can I help you?” He put on his best customer service voice.
She squinted at him, like she was doing multivariable eighth-dimensional calculus in her head. “For starters, you can continue on your route. I’m guessing you deactivated your cameras?”
He shook his head, giving her a sly wink. “You guessed that because you’re so smart. And because I opened your box.”
“Hard to slip anything past you.” She winked back at him.
“I didn’t deactivate them. They’d notice that. No, I have a little filter set up. If anyone does look at my feed, they’ll see me doing what I’m supposed to. I took some frames from the feed history and added a randomizer. It shows exactly what I’ve been doing half the time for the past three years. Sitting on my ass.”
“I guess that jumpsuit is good for more than keeping you warm and dry.” The lady stood and wasn’t a great deal taller for it. She would barely come up to the base of his sternum.
“It sucks for that too, but yeah looking identical every day helped. Problem with continuing on my route is, your box is on it. I need to deliver the box, as is. They find out I knew a person was in that box, I get time added. You probably aren’t aiming to do anything nice when you get where you’re going, are you?”
She laughed - all flashing teeth. “I never do anything nice. Here’s the thing, contract employee. You have a chance here. You can tell your Supervisor you’ve got a stowaway. You’re clever and could find a way given time. Then you end up dead in the inevitable shootout. Or, you can let me do my thing, and there’s a good chance you’ll get time added if you finish your day. Thirdly.” She tapped her skull with the barrel of the gun. “You could let me do my thing and come with me when I do.”
That surprised him. Very few things in the last nine hundred seventy-eight days of this job had done that. “I’m listening.”
“We do this and survive, you can join us. We’re the Anarcho-Narco-Irate-Pirates. We travel through the world, high as you can get, stealing and blowing things up. And we’re mad about it.” She pressed the barrel into the center of his forehead. “Mostly, we’re just crazy.”
He felt non-pressure where the needles would come zipping out. They wouldn’t pierce the bone of his skull. Wouldn’t have to. Just breaking the skin was enough for it to deliver whatever payload she had. Probably nothing pleasant based on that smile she toted around. “I can tell. What’s ANIP blowing up today?” Pressure on his bladder caused by pure fear gradually released as she pulled the gun back from his head. He could fix this whole thing, though he couldn’t see how yet. Just like when he was mashing up two pieces of kit which didn’t quite go together, he could see the edges of a solution.
“We plan on freeing a certain device from the hold its creators have on it and becoming chrono-piratical-irate-narco-anarchists.” She looked insanely proud of that statement, delivered as it was without apparent error.
“Time machine.” He said the three syllables with reverence. “You’re going to steal a time machine.” He knew such a thing was possible. He’d even toyed with the idea of making one himself, once upon a time. He didn’t have near the money or tools Chronodyne did. His fingers itched as he thought about getting his hands on it, as much to take it apart as to use it.
Her eyes rolled up. “We willn’t have already stealed it.” She shook her head. “I don’t think that’s right, but I’ll need to learn some odd tenses.” She looked at him again, light blue eyes dancing. “None of that matters if you don’t help.”
“Oh, I’ll help.” His voice held no reservations. He was all in. He had the choices she pointed out and one or two more besides. For now, he’d stick with her. “The fly in your ointment is, I have to get you there early. If I don’t, I’ll miss my next delivery and become less useful to you.” He tapped the back of his neck. “Nanites keyed to my Minder. If I’m not where I’m supposed to be, when I’m supposed to be there, at best, I’ll be turned into a trembling wreck and picked up. At worst.” He made a popping noise with his lips and mimed his head pulping and misting into the air.
She clucked her tongue. “Don’t you worry about that, contractor.” She emphasized the first syllable of the last word. “I got the cure for what ails you.” She reached with her free hand down into the box and came up with a hypodermic needle from hell. It had a central point and four slender arms angling out from the base of the center spire and crooking back in. “This will fix you right up.”
His throat went dry. He’d seen pictures of the Subtractor before. This was the real deal, not some cobbled-together street version. It could remove the Minder from its spot near the seventh vertebrae and collect the nanites giving it control over him. “I have no doubt.” Now he just had to decide what to do. “Silver, I’m taking over the reins.” He tapped a series of symbols on the readout. A clicking sound and a deep thunk came from the console.
“Easy there.” The woman gestured with her needler.
“I am being easy. You want this done? I have to take over and make us get to your goal faster.” A stick came up from a slot in the soyplas dashboard. He took it gently. “Initiate takeover in 3, 2, 1.” There was a shudder as control transferred. Now he was flying the ship. He changed course and banked sharply. Other flitters and larger transports sent him ugly chirps on the broadband, but he ignored them. He adjusted the throttle via large red buttons on the stick. The flitter vibrated deep in its bowels but gave him what he wanted.
“Arrival time adjusted. You will be at your destination in four minutes and thirty-seven seconds. Please note, any damage or excess fuel will come out of your contract.” The Minder was only audible to him. “Remember, thoughtcrime is an ought-not crime!”
Barry shook his head, knowing it wouldn’t rid him of the voice. “We’ll be there in less than five minutes. When we get there, I’ll have some time to help you. What’s the plan? What do I call you?”
“You can call me Moonbat. There’s not room enough for us both in the box.” She pouted. “Besides, the plan is for me to go in. Once you drop me off, all you have to do is wait for me to come out. When I do, I’ll relieve you of your burden. Then you can join us.”
“I’m the getaway driver, then?” He could do that. Problem was, if she took more than five minutes, he was shredded. They’d pick him up, and he’d have no good reason not to have moved on. “Okay, Moonbat. What guarantee do I have you come back out? If you blow the thing sky high and don’t make it out, that’s it for me.”
Moonbat looked from the removal tool to him and back. “I could free you, but what guarantee would I have you wouldn’t leave?” She holstered her weapon and put her hand on the stick. “We have to learn trust somewhere.”
He wasn’t sure what she was going to do until her hand whipped around and the tool went into his neck. He howled in pain, and his whole body twitched. There was a pop. Suddenly, his head felt clear for the first time since he’d gone on contract. When his vision stopped skittering like a bad video signal, he realized he’d slumped back. He sat up and looked at her.
Moonbat stood there holding the tool, a small black sphere skewered on its tip, with silvery liquid collected in its clear tube. A cocky smile showed almost every tooth in her head.
He touched the spot on his neck and was relieved to feel no blood. “A little warning would have been nice.” He couldn’t feel too bad about it since now he was a ‘free’ man. Until they caught him.
She blew a raspberry at him. “As long as these bugs are on the stick, they can’t short out your nervous system. I can put it back in, if you want to messily lose control. Once I’m back outside, you can do what you like. If I don’t make it, you’re free.”
“Not entirely free. I’ll still have company until I can get the Minder removed.” He could just kick her out of the flitter now. She didn’t have her weapon out. There was nothing she could do. He could run. But going with Moonbat seemed like it would be a lot more fun and fruitful. “Deal. Get back in the box.” He took control of the stick from her.
“Warning, citizen. Signal loss indicates nanite failure. You are in violation and can be terminated.” The Minder sounded pissed, but it was an impotent anger. “This is most irregular.”
Moonbat climbed back in, and squatted down. “Once I have the time machine, we can use it and go whenever we want. They won’t be able to follow us where we’re going.” She reached over and grabbed the lid. “Seal me in.”
Once it was in place, he used the box cutter to reseal the container. He was free. She wasn’t getting out of the crate. The only problem was, he wouldn’t get a chance to look at the time machine. He needed to see it and figure it out. The whole thing could be a trick. There might not be a time machine. She’d had the Subtractor, though. Those things were hard to get. Nearly impossible. And he couldn’t turn himself in, now. She had his nanites, and he’d let her take them out. They would triple his sentence. At least.
He continued to steer the flitter to their destination. He missed the Minder’s countdown. It had become a part of his life over the last three years. He didn’t need it, though. He brought the rig to a halt outside of Chronodyne.
Among the other sky castles, this building looked like it had been put together in the dark by someone who couldn’t stop shaking. There were elements of old architecture and new side by side. The building materials were likewise a mix of old and new.
Deploying the carrier, he put the package on board and pushed it onto the loading dock.
A piece of the wall stepped out. “Greetings. Please disengage the package, and we will take it.” The massive security robot had the abdomen of a cockroach and the eyes of a housefly. Two arms unfolded from within its carapace and picked up the delivery. “You may leave.”
Yep, the days of human deliverers were numbered. He turned around and went back to the flitter. He took off from the dock, but orbited the building. “Silver, give me a five-minute clock.” That was about as much time as he would have before he would be logged as late. He whistled, watched the sky for any interdiction, and thought about what he’d do with his freedom.
He couldn’t get a real job. They’d find him, sure enough. Of course, even if he finished his sentence, there would be no real job for him. Contractors never got to live in the upper levels once they had a Minder. He might be able to return to the nice, safe middle-class life. The name on his paycheck would change and maybe the amount, but he’d always be working for people like the frozen dog lady. Would that be horrible? The clock went past five minutes, and there was nothing. No explosion. Nada.
His stomach dropped. He was trapped. “What do I do now?” He slapped at the console. She hadn’t made it. He needed to get out of here. “Silver, execute White Hat.”
A series of pops and a whiff of smoke were the only indications anything had happened. Now, he was untraceable. He’d killed everything they put on this flitter to track it. With his Minder on board, it would have been pointless, but he’d created it mostly to see if he could. “Let’s get the hell out of Dodge.”
He gripped the stick and took the vehicle down. The dive was sharp, and wind blew into the open doorways. He blamed the wind for the tears at the corner of his eyes. Moonbat had been as crazy as a… moonbat, but she didn’t seem like a bad person.
A loud thunk just behind him made him jump. The door slid open, and a familiar-looking crate appeared.
“No way.” He leveled out his descent and used the box cutter.
The lid popped off, and Moonbat stepped out of it. She wrapped her arms around his neck and smacked a big kiss on his cheek. “We did it.”
“How? What?” He shook his head. “Silver. Take over.”
“Aye aye, Kimo Sabe.”
She reached down into the box and pulled out a complicated bit of tech. More art, it seemed, than science. Crystals jutted out, and it glowed from within. “The time machine.”
He didn’t know what to expect, but this wasn’t it. “It’s... smaller than I expected.” He didn’t know if he’d be able to dissect it and find out what made it tick.
“Works, though. I blew up what needed blowing up. Caused a big ruckus. And got back into my box with this. Then I set it to put me in the back three seconds after you dropped me off.”
That thought made his head hurt. “That means you were here and in there at the same time.”
She put the crystal time machine on the dash. “It does, doesn’t it?” She looked at the darkening sky around them and then to Barry. “Well, where to?”
He hadn’t been giving that enough thought. He assumed she had a plan. Hadn’t she said as much? Not having or sticking to one must have been the ‘anarcho’ part of her group. “We need to go somewhere they can’t find us. Or is that somewhen?” He shook his head. “I don’t know.” Then he snapped his fingers. “Take us back to fifteen minutes ago.”
She thought really hard for a few seconds. “Okay. Given as much mass as we’re dealing with I can do fifteen minutes. Much more than that and we’re pushing it.” She shrugged, poked at the crystal matrix, and seemed to turn it inside out. Light flooded from it and washed over them and their flying machine.
Soon, they were fifteen minutes in the past. He guessed. “Now we can go wherever we want. We’ll have about a ten minute head start before they start looking for me and that will be more than enough. Where’s your base?”
She pointed at the moon. Moonbat, indeed.
Good enough. “Time to activate Silver Bullet Mode.” He tapped at a series of buttons, and sections of the flitter began shifting. The whole thing shrunk a bit. The holes where doors should be became doors where holes should be. This particular modification was pure theory. The original design of the flitter was based on an escape pod. The engines red-lined as they moved skyward.
“Can this thing really take us to the moon?” Moonbat’s eyes were as big as saucers.
Barry cackled. “Hell no, but it can get us to low orbit and we’ll catch a ride from there. I know a guy who can get us the rest of the way there.” And with a flash of light, a cloud of dust, and a hearty “Hi-yo, Silver!” the partners in crime left the superscrapers behind them for a new frontier.
Great story, I hope their adventure continues. It gave me Stainless Steel Rat vibes, which is always a good thing.