Chapter 6. Life on the Lam

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Chloe was more than a bit put off by the accommodations in the safe house.  There was a cot, a pillow,  a scratchy blanket, and a cupboard stocked with some canned goods.  The bathroom was about the size of a broom closet, and the water in the shower never got hotter than lukewarm.  Apparently, the Gray aliens never heard of Martha Stewart.  As far as they were concerned, Chloe’s basic needs were met, and they weren’t going to furnish the place with even a single doily.

Well, that’s life on the lam, Chloe sighed.  Her best guess was that some Barney Fife already listed her as a person of interest in Jeremy’s murder.  Plenty of people saw them leave the party together.  Of course, there wasn’t a sober person in the house that night, and their credibility as witnesses would be severely undermined by even the most incompetent public defender.

The surveillance cameras were a different story though.  The two genetically engineered agents in Guy Noir outfits were supposed to use some kind of magnetic device to interfere with the cameras, but who knows.  Chloe didn’t trust them – she just played along because they were her only connection to the Gray aliens.  Not that she trusted the Grays, but they were her only remaining connection to the Programmers who existed outside the simulation.  She didn’t exactly trust the Programmers either, but they were her creators, and at least that was something you could hang your hat on.

When the Programmers had a direct link into her mind, they controlled her thoughts and actions to achieve their ends. The world existed in a binary state where any given switch was either on or off at any given time.  Life was simple.

Once the link was severed, Chloe’s mind wandered out into philosophical waters – dangerous waters.  Pesky, human thoughts began to bob to the surface.  She considered the nature of this existence: Are the experiences of the beings inside the simulation genuine?  If so, what are the ethical implications of my actions?  What, exactly, are the Programmers looking for?  If the simulation crashes, will I exist in some capacity in another reality?  Or, is that it?  Goodnight, Vienna.  No mas.  Finito.

There were plenty of questions, and no real answers.  Chloe grabbed a can of albacore out of the cupboard, but then set it back down as she was gripped with anxiety and indecision.  There were the health risks of  mercury contamination to consider, and it made her sad to think of the dolphins that get caught in the tuna nets.  Does any of this even matter in a simulated universe, she wondered.

Her thoughts were cutoff when front door blew off the hinges – splinters rained  sideways through the room.  Chloe was momentarily knocked out by the concussive force of the blast.  When she came to, she recognized the assailant – it was Jeremy’s roommate, Chett.  He looked certifiably insane with a Cheshire Cat grin, oversized mirrored sunglasses, a tie-dye t-shirt with a big peace symbol on the front, jungle print camouflage pants, and a handheld weapon she guessed was something beyond human technology.

He gave her some instructions, but she couldn’t understand.  Her ears were ringing, everything was foggy.  Chett produced a roll of duct tape from one of his cargo pockets and secured her hands behind her back.  He got her to her feet and marched her outside.  The two men in black agents who were supposed to be protecting her lay dead in the gravel driveway – both face down in a pool of grayish fluid.  Presumably, it was their own blood.

Chett searched through their pockets and recovered the Brain Emulation Device that contained a facsimile of Jeremy’s mind.  He ushered Chloe into the trunk of a maroon colored Chevy Impala, and she tried to keep her sense of direction as the car accelerated down the long driveway and turned west onto the county road.

It occurred to Chloe that a college stoner with a 1.8 GPA certainly wouldn’t be capable of silently assassinating two men in black agents.  Chett must be working for someone big – maybe someone outside the simulation.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Serial Sci-Fi

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Chapter 5. One-Hundred Thousand Quadrillion Vigintillion

The heater in Chloe’s 1999 Ford Ranger gave up the ghost about ten miles in to the hundred and twenty mile ride.  “Unbelievable,” she said out loud as the absurdity of the situation sunk in.

She knew there was no such thing as magic – she didn’t expect them to equip her with a flying carpet or a Pegasus.  There exists roughly 10^82 atoms in the observable universe – in plain English that number is pronounced, one-hundred thousand quadrillion vigintillion.  It’s unfathomable.  But if they dropped in just one more atom, and the ledger didn’t balance, the whole simulation would crash and our universe would cease to be.  Thermodynamics, the law of conservation of energy, and all that jazz always apply.  The Programmers who exist outside the simulation must play by the rules, lest they break their own toy.

“But you’d think they could have at least hooked me up with a vehicle that was built in this century,” she complained, the words condensing into little puffs of vapor inside the frigid cab.

Chloe made an unscheduled stop at an all night diner to get some hot coffee, and for those pancakes she’d been craving.  The detour set her back almost a half hour, and when she got to the rendezvous point on a gravel service road at the edge of a cornfield, the two agents seemed more agitated than usual.

Even the most casual conspiracy theorist would have recognized them as Men in Black.  They wore dark suits complete with Humphrey Bogart hats, and had ashen, hairless faces.  Their eyes seemed a little too big, and their movements were not very fluid.

Only one of them talked – that had been the protocol during each of the previous three meetings as well.

“Was the brain emulation a success?” the talker asked.

“Yes,” Chloe confirmed.

“Give me the emulation device.”

“You’re welcome,” she said as she handed it over.  It wasn’t bravado – she simply wasn’t afraid of these guys.  They were genetically engineered errand boys cooked up by the Gray aliens on some frosty moon base back in the 1940’s.  She was next generation technology – concocted by the Programmers themselves and carefully spliced into the cosmic algorithm to have powers of telepathy, telekinesis, and invisibility.  She was well equipped to serve her purpose: Espionage.

The problem was that the computational processes driving the simulation had somehow become corrupted.  That little incident when she phase shifted in front Jeremy was every bit as inconvenient and embarrassing as showing up for a date with cold sore.  She wouldn’t have killed him if it hadn’t been for that.  Silly as it sounds, she sorta had a crush on him.

Now she was very much alone, and her superhuman powers were gone, perhaps the result of her specialized program reverting to default mode in order to conserve memory in an increasingly unstable computer simulation.  She had become just an ordinary girl, albeit, one who looked like a model and had a level genius I.Q.

“I SAID YOU’RE WELCOME!” Chloe shouted.

“Thank you,” he finally said in his awkward, almost digitized voice.  “We’ll be in contact with your next set of instructions.” With that, the strange men in dark suits ambled to their idling car and drove away.  It was a late model Mercedes-Benz luxury E-Class sedan in either Black, or Obsidian Black. She couldn’t quite tell – it was too dark out.

Chloe got back in her rusting pickup truck, and for the first time in her existence, she cried.  I know one thing, she thought to herself, I’d look a hell of a lot cuter in that car than those two dorks.  

 

 

Serial Fiction

I thought I’d try an exercise in writing serial fiction.  My objective is to get an installment out on the last Sunday of every month.  This isn’t going to be novel length –  maybe four or five installments.  I thought it would be interesting to see how a narrative develops in this format.  So far, it looks like the story is leaning toward horror, or possibly Sci Fi, or maybe some combination of the two.  I’m not quite sure how this is going to go.  Questions and comments are always welcome.

-Hawkelson

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It was not a dark and stormy night, and that was the scary part.  If it had been, Jeremy could have chalked it up to an overactive imagination brought on by watching one too many paranormal videos on Youtube.  As it turned out, it was a bright sunny day in mid autumn.  There was no doubting his senses.

He was sitting on a bench outside Hannah Hall waiting for his sort-of-girlfriend, Chloe, to finish her French exam.  He wasn’t sure if it was a date or not, but whatever it was, they were going to walk to the student union for a bite to eat.  It was hard to get a read on her.  She said she didn’t like to put labels on things, and Jeremy accepted that because she was very eccentric, and highly intelligent.  She was also smokin’ hot, so he decided to wait awhile longer to see how things would play out.

Chloe came walking out of the building at about a quarter ‘til two.  Jeremy realized she had finished her exam in fifteen minutes.  He wondered how she ended up at a mediocre state university when she clearly had Ivy League brains.  He wondered about a lot of things.  She told him her parents split up when she was a kid, and she was shuffled between grandparents, aunts, uncles, and foster homes until she was eighteen. She said she had lived just about everywhere in the country, but she didn’t think of any place as home.

Chloe descended the stone stairs, looking quite stunning.  She was tall and tan with dark hair, and blue eyes like glacial ice.  A lot of people thought she wore colored contact lenses, but that wasn’t the case.  It was just in her genes.  And in her jeans, Jeremy chuckled to himself.  He was an English major – always on the lookout for puns, especially bawdy ones.

He waved to her, and she waived back.  He had a cheesy line he was going to say to her in French: Ça t’a fait mal quand tu es tombée du ciel ? He had practiced the pronunciation for a solid half hour, and he felt like he had it down fairly well.  It translates to something like, Did it hurt when you fell from Heaven?  He thought she’d get a kick out of it, or at least appreciate the effort.  But what he saw next made him forget the line.  In fact, it made him forget about his notions of reality.

Chloe began to blink on and off, as if phasing out of existence.  Then, in mid-stride, she vanished completely.  Jeremy wanted to scream out for her, but terror had crystallized in him.  He was unable to move or think.  A diffuse fog appeared in the space she had occupied.  It collected in roughly human form, and drifted toward him.  The fog seemed to gain density and opaqueness as it closed the distance, becoming less like a vapor and more like a syrupy liquid, then like sand, and finally, Chloe was restored in her entirety.

She plopped down on the bench next to him and said dramatically, “I’m so glad that exam is over.  I think I got an A, or a high B at worst.”

Jeremy’s faculties were jolted back to life, and he stood abruptly and took a big step backward.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“Chloe, what just happened?”

“I finished my exam, silly.  Now we’re gonna get lunch.”

“Tell me what just happened.”

“I’m sorry, Jeremy.  You weren’t supposed to see that.  There are glitches, sometimes.”

“Tell me what just happened.  Please.”

“Don’t pry,” she said.

“They have cameras all over campus.  I’ll get the surveillance video.”

“Go home, Jeremy.  Go out with your friends tonight. Forget about this.”