BY MIKEL J. WISLER
Copyright is held by the author.
SUE WIPED sweat from her face and, with a huff of annoyance, thought-commanded the snarky reply to her sister to be sent. Why did Gwen insist on getting expensive gifts for their mother but then expect Sue to split it equally with her? Who was the success story of the family here, after all?
Sue filled her lungs with the warm evening air and tried to clear her mind as she strode through the nearly empty parking garage. Her workout playlist still streamed to her auditory implants. She loved that post-workout fatigue mixed with the satisfaction at the strenuous exertion. It helped her forget her age for a bit, though increased aches the following day were always ready to remind her. But the kickboxing workout coupled with her karate lessons always gave her a sense of power she lacked in virtually every other area of her life.
As she approached her car, her implants triggered its automated start-up sequence. The door slid open, and the electric engine clicked on. She dropped into the seat and the door began sliding back into place. A hand reached in and pressed something cold and metallic to her neck. The door stopped and reversed.
“Hi Sue,” a man said. “We’re going to go for a drive. And you’re not going to do anything stupid, are you?”
Sue stared up at the man holding the gun. Her music stopped with a crackle. It took her a moment to realize she should trigger her instant emergency protocol.
“Don’t bother trying to call for help,” he said, as if reading her mind. “I’m jamming all signals within thirty feet.”
She blinked at him. He was tall, skinny, and pale. His short blond hair and stubble contrasted with his bright blue cybernetic eyes. He carried a thick-looking black electronic briefcase.
Was she really getting mugged by this asshole?
Wait, he knew her name.
Her stomach lurched with a horrible suspicion she didn’t dare entertain for more than a flash.
“I’m going to hop in the back,” the man said. “You’re going to sit right there and not move a muscle. I can pop a round into your lungs in a flash. I don’t want to, for obvious reasons, but I will if you try anything.”
Sue stared at him, her heart thundering inside her ribs, her mouth suddenly dry. The man glared back at her.
“You deaf or stupid?” he barked.
“Yes,” Sue stammered. “No. I mean… I understand.”
The man nodded and reached with his left hand to open the back door while keeping the gun on her with his right. He moved quickly, sliding into the back seat and bringing the gun around to rest against Sue’s neck under her right ear now.
“You’re going to turn off navigation and autopilot,” the man said. “Kill all communication in and out of the car. Don’t run any programmed routes. We’re obviously not going home right now.”
“What do you want?” Sue managed.
“We’ll get to that. Right now, I just want you to drive out of here and get on 93 North. I’ll give you directions. I just need you to drive, old school-like. No nav, no comms. You follow?”
Sue nodded.
Her door slid shut as her shaking hand worked the touchscreen to disable all incoming or outgoing data transmission. She fumbled in and out of various screens, unsure of what she was doing.
“Stop messing around,” he barked.
“I never do this,” she shot back. “And you’re blocking my implant. I never use this damn touch screen.”
He sighed. “You got to setting… no…”
He switched hands, holding the gun so he could reach past her and slap her hand away from the screen. He proceeded quickly to disable all data streams and respond to a prompt, asking if the car’s user was absolutely sure they wanted to proceed with this action, considering the unavailability of many systems in the car.
“All right,” he said, sitting back. “You drive nice and easy, not too fast, not too slow, and we just blend in and head out of town. I’ll be your nav.”
Gripping the wheel, Sue swallowed hard. She needed to think of a way out of this, to call for help.
“My sister’s expecting me,” Sue said. “She’ll be worried if I don’t show up and she can’t reach me.”
“No, she’s not,” he chuckled. “I do my homework first, Sue. I know you’re just headed home to your two cats, some leftovers, and a half bottle of chardonnay. Drive.”
She drove up the ramp and out of the parking garage. The man in the backseat leaned back, moving the gun away from her neck.
“I still have this gun aimed at your back,” he said. “I don’t mind putting a bullet in your gut. But you will definitely mind. Painful way to bleed out.”
Sue nodded, unable to speak through her increasingly dry mouth. But she couldn’t help noting the disinterested way the man spoke.
The red light at the first intersection felt like an hour. She took a left and hit the next red light. Autonomous cars or not, Boston traffic was still alive and well. Out of the corners of her eyes, Sue looked about, trying to spot anyone around her in another car she could signal for help. But most people had set their cars to autopilot, and were blissfully distracted, leaning their heads back, probably streaming shows or sports directly to their Minds-i or similar implants. She’d have to think of some other means to draw some attention without getting shot.
The light turned green, and she took the on-ramp to 93 North. As she sped up, her mind suddenly cleared. What the hell was she doing? She had to talk sense into this asshole.
“I’m not sure what you want from me,” Sue choked out. “I’m not rich. I’m just a comptroller. I don’t have any top-of-the-line implants.”
“That’s not quite true,” the man said. “Your auditory implants are quite slick. And that Minds-i processor of yours is one of the fastest on the market.”
“Yeah, I can listen to music and watch movies,” Sue spat, “a lot of good that’s doing me.”
“Oh, come on, you couldn’t hold a comptroller job without the cognitive and communications perks your implants give you.”
“Yeah, well, I’m surrounded by people with far better implants and I’ve got no prospects for where to go in my career, thanks to that.”
“Oh, you think you have it bad? Plenty of people I know would love even a mediocre Minds-i. Can’t land proper work without it. If you can’t appreciate that, it’s probably just as well that I relieve you of it.”
Sue swallowed back a sharp lump of rising panic. She fought the urge to shut down. She had to keep this guy talking. Maybe she could find some way out of this. She couldn’t think of any other way to defuse this situation and driving in silence to her certain death was the most moronic thing she could imagine.
“How much can you make?” she asked.
“Plenty.”
“No. Tell me. How much is my tech worth on the black market?”
The man sighed, “Lady, you don’t wanna know.”
“What if I have a better deal for you?”
“Said it yourself, you’re not rich. What deal do you think you can cut me?”
“I’ve been saving up,” Sue said. “I need a serious upgrade.”
“I’m not interested in the silly cravings of the fortunate and entitled.”
“You don’t know me,” Sue shot back. “You don’t know the bullshit I’m dealing with.”
“God, you richies are all so full of shit.”
That sent Sue’s rage through the roof.
“I have early on-set Alzheimer’s, asshole. My brain is going to give out on me. Sure, I seem OK most of the time, but I can tell when my brain betrays me. I can see it in people’s eyes, the way they talk to me. Only a matter of time before they show me the door because good ol’ Sue’s more of a liability than an asset. I’m just a used-up cog in their machine.”
“Shit,” the man said, his voice betraying an apparent moment of real empathy. “Should’ve got a new Simitree System. Saved my life.”
Sue stared out the windshield, her stomach slowly twisting into a furious knot. She gripped the wheel so tightly her fingers numbed.
“I’m trying,” she said.
“What?”
“I’m trying to get a Simitree System. But my shitty insurance won’t cover it. I guess genetic predisposition to Alzheimer’s isn’t a covered pre-existing condition. So…”
She heard him shift in the back seat.
“Gotta love a system that values profit over people.”
“Not so entitled, after all, am I? I’m just a worker bee unworthy of the help I need because my insurance company has financial projections to meet next quarter and my job only offers bronze-level benefits. So, what if my mind turns to mush and my life falls apart? It’s cheaper to let me die.”
“Now you know why plenty of people doing black market augs,” he said.
“I’ll buy one from you,” she said.
“Lady, I wish I could do that,” he chuckled. “For real, you got a shit deal. But I got a contract to fulfill. Not like I got insurance to cover my Simitree System, either. We’re not so different that way.”
“Why do you even have one?”
“None of your business.”
“No,” she shot back. “I wanna know why a thug like you gets life-saving brain augmentation and I don’t?”
“Yeah, I’m a thug,” he said with an infuriatingly matter-of-fact tone. “Not by choice, though.”
“Everyone always has a choice.”
He scoffed from the back seat, “You fucking richies. You think everyone has options. Well, the world doesn’t work that way when you’re born to a drug-addicted mother who already cooked your brain before you were even born. Haven’t had many choices my whole life. So, I took whatever deal got me this aug. You would too, I bet.”
“So, you get the handout while I work hard all my life?”
“Hey, fuck you, Karen,” he leaned forward and spoke into her ear. “I can’t afford this either. You think my dream job is carving out implants from entitled bitches? In a mile, take the second off ramp.”
They drove in silence. Sue took the exit and headed down the dark country road. She felt the knot in her stomach twist harder with each passing minute. He spoke only to give her further directions. With each turn, her fear melted a little more into the growing rage within her.
“All my life, I’ve been a good person. I’ve played by the rules. I got a safe job. I work hard,” she said, helpless to stop her own babbling. “And I get what? Screwed by my genes and screwed by my issuance company. Meanwhile, my little sister goes to medical school on a scholarship, drops out to chase her fanciful dreams of designer augmentation, then goes back to medical school, then drops out of her residency to start a fancy augmentation clinic for people with more money than sense. Everything just works out for her. She doesn’t even have the genetic predisposition I have.”
“Yeah, and she’s hotter than you,” he laughed.
“You know her?”
“No, Karen, I don’t know her! Jesus. I’ve just heard sob stories like this a million times. Left up here.”
She turned onto a gravel road that cut through pine trees.
“Up ahead, we’re going to come up on a quarry,” the man said. “Stop the car there.”
Sue’s stomach lurched with a whole new level of panic. He’d brought her to a quarry. Nothing good would come of this.
She rolled the car to a stop and put it in park. Her heart raced. She felt as if invisible hands had wrapped around her throat, making it nearly impossible to breathe. This was it.
“Get out of the car,” the man muttered.
She didn’t move.
“Just get out of the car and I promise this is going to be painless,” he said.
Sue swallowed, waved her shaking hand over the sensor, and manually opened the door. Since all comms were shut down and the car no longer talked to her implants — the implants that she was about to lose to this low life — she had to do this. Would she even be able to hear when he was done?
She looked out at the quarry as her door slid open. What was she thinking? She would not survive this. Black market augmentation thieves didn’t bring someone to a quarry if they were merely harvesting some basic implants and then sending their victim off to the ER. This was the end of the road for her. She had better think quick.
“Out of the car!” he barked.
She flinched and climbed out. Turning to face him as he got out of the back seat, Sue tried to steady her nerves, her mind racing ahead to determine how best to get out of this situation.
“I can help you,” she said without thinking. “We can set up a heist. Steal a bunch of augmentation tech. My company works with some companies on the supply chain for these —”
“The supply chain is fucked,” he retorted. “Too many people already skimming there. That’s a set of crooks you don’t want to mess with.”
“I’m not talking about skimming. I’m talking about —”
“I know what you’re talking about. Those tech companies got the whole chain buttoned up tight. You think people like me would be out here doing this if we could just grab what we want somewhere else with a lot less mess?”
Sue blinked. Her body vibrated with adrenaline and disappointment. For a moment, she’d dared to let herself think she might talk him into it. And maybe she could have snagged the aug she needed. In her mind, the whole scenario played out like a fairy tale. She not only got to live, she got what she deserved to have.
“Come over here,” he said to her.
“What’s your name?” she asked.
He frowned at her. “What’s it matter to you?”
“You’re going to kill me,” she said, surprising herself with how steadily the words seemed to come out of her constricted throat. “I’d like to know the name of the person who is about to take my life.”
He glared at her for a few seconds, then nodded. “Tyler.”
“Thank you, Tyler.” I wish I could say it was nice to meet you.”
“Look, I know what you’re doing.” Tyler shook his head. “This is a shit deal. But I have no choice here. I gotta do this. I can’t go back empty-handed this time. And if you think about it, I’m kind of doing you a favour. You don’t have to slowly die from your Alzheimer’s. Seen what that’s like. You’re just going to go to sleep now.”
Sue’s lower lip quivered as she slowly shook her head. A single tear slipped out of her right eye and traveled down her cheek.
He stepped backward, keeping the gun leveled on her. Lifting the black case, he set it on the trunk of the car and popped it open with his free hand. It beeped and hissed as the lid swung open. From within it, he produced a leather pouch he set aside. Its content clinked as the items inside it moved and settled — the tools for the impending lethal surgery, no doubt. He reached back in and retrieved an injection pen.
“How much are they paying you?” she asked.
“I told you, it’s not about this one gig, lady,” Tyler sighed. “If you had enough to buy me off, you’d have your own Simitree System already. Someone like me would have harvested one for you from some other entitled schlub.”
A wave of dizziness hit Sue as the finality of her situation sank in. Tyler stepped closer, the gun in his right hand, the injection in his left.
A rush of clarity shook Sue out of her tunnel vision. He was right. She couldn’t buy him off. He was about to kill her. Plus, he had something she needed.
She wondered how much Tyler knew about her. He knew her implants and where she worked. Clearly, he’d done some research to know when it might be best to kidnap her. As a result, he’d picked an evening when she had stayed late for a workout in the company gym. But how much did he really know? Was he aware, for example, that on Wednesdays after work, she attended the self-defence-oriented fitness class? Did he know about karate classes?
Sue slowly shifted her stance and raised her fists. It was probably a stupid idea. But she was out of ideas.
She watched Tyler approach, gun in hand. Do it just like in class, she told herself. Just like in class, but don’t hold back. Her body, high on adrenaline, took over and did the work for her.
***
Sue couldn’t banish the disgusting sound from her mind as she sat in her car and stared at the darkened clinic before her. Her hands still vibrated with the memory of gripping the handle, the sickening grinding from the saw teeth traveling up her arms. Even with a deep breath, the coppery smell still haunted her nose and tongue. She opened the door and threw up again.
“Sue?”
Looking up, she saw her younger sisters standing in the glow of the parking lot lights.
“Are you OK?” Gwen asked.
“I’m fine,” Sue said as she spat into the vile puddle she’d made on the blacktop and climbed out of her car.
The door slid shut behind her. Sue took another deep breath and let it out slowly, the taste of bile refusing to leave.
“You don’t look OK,” Gwen frowned. “Let’s get you inside.”
Gwen stepped up to the clinic’s frosted glass entrance, which beeped in acknowledgment of her presence. The locks disengaged with a click and the doors parted. The lights inside dimmed up to reveal the sleek and minimalist interior. While Gwen walked in, Sue retrieved the package.
“Why did we need to meet here?” Gwen asked, turning back.
But Sue was still in the parking lot. She’d slid open the back door of her car and pulled out a large black case with a handle. The lights on it showed its system functioned nominally.
Gwen stared, her mouth dropping open. No doubt, she recognized the boxy case.
Letting her car lock up for her, Sue walked up the steps and through the doors. She stopped before her sister, who still stood only a few paces within the glass entrance. Gwen’s bewildered expression remained fixed.
“I need your help,” Sue whispered.
“OK,” Gwen nodded, eyes wide. “But you have to tell what’s going on first.”
A half-hour later, Sue stared at Gwen as the reality of what she’d just shared sunk in. They sat in the waiting area of Gwen’s clinic. Sue held an empty cup of water she had sipped as she steadied herself enough to relay the details of her ordeal. Gwen’s face was white, jaw slack.
“Oh my god, Sue,” Gwen shook her head. “Oh, my god! I’m so sorry. But I’m so glad you’re OK!”
Gwen reached out and squeezed Sue’s free hand, which ached and bled still at the knuckles.
“You did the right thing,” Gwen whispered. “He was going to kill you. You were defending yourself. The police will clearly see that. It was you or him. There was no other way.”
“There won’t be any police,” Sue shook her head. “There can’t be any police.”
“What?” Gwen frowned. “We have to report this. These people have to be stopped.”
“He had something I need,” Sue said as she stared off into space. “It was wasted on him.”
Gwen’s eyes widened, and she pulled her hand away. “Sue… What did you do?”
“I didn’t want to damage it,” Sue choked out. “So, I kept the entire head.”
Gwen slowly turned her horrified gaze to the black case sitting next to Sue.
“Now I need you to do your thing,” Sue said.
***
Mikel J. Wisler is an award-winning filmmaker and writer who sincerely believes good science fiction can help us save the world. His latest novel is a time-travel thriller called Stop, out this week in ebook and paperback. Mikel lives near Boston, Massachusetts, where he’s raising a scientifically curious and artistically prolific daughter and is always on the lookout for a new beer to try. Learn more at www.mikelwisler.com or www.patreon.com/mikelwisler
Wow! That was riveting!