Chapter 5 – Caught between the Scylla and Charybdis…
She lay suspended in the stasis field. Alone again. Bill had left to analyze the latest pullout data and try to trace her back. People kept abandoning her. It was frustrating. She was always being attacked, dumped, or left. She told herself this was a silly way of thinking. She was just another victim of a pernicious box virus, one of the lucky ones to escape.
How many others had escaped? Hundreds? Tens? Just her? How many had been destroyed? Who would want to do that?
She thought these were the obvious questions.
She could move her eyes, but not her head. The lights were on now, her eyes once again accustomed to being “outside”. The room was painted white. She seemed to be in the middle of it, not a large room, only about a 5 meter square. The ceiling was white panels. Lighting seemed to come from the tops of the cabinets along the walls. Under the cabinets were counter tops. There was a complex looking console with a screen. The screen showed a brain scan, and some data readouts that she couldn’t make out. She had no memory of being a technological person. She couldn’t even see her body and how well it might have been rehabilitated. She could only make inferences. Hopefully Bill would come back soon with some news about who she was.
Is who I was the same thing as who I am? What difference does it make now if I can’t remember any of it?
Still, the pullout metadata about her original identity would be interesting. Her second pullout.
If James had pulled her out, and knew so much about the box grid, why had he not found that metadata? He had over a year of his time to do that. It was inconceivable that he could have missed that. The thought sent a chill through her.
Where was James?
A sliding panel revealed a doorway through which Bill came breezing in. Bill was a heavyset man with a salt and pepper beard. He wore the same sort of leather-look jacket that she remembered James wearing, zipped at the front, and blue trousers. “Hey, kid,” he said cheerfully.
“Where is this place?” she asked.
“All in good time,” said Bill. He grinned at her. “The bio-tech people are coming over to check you out. Then we’ll know what your options are.”
“That would be nice,” she said. “What about my identity? Did you find out who I am?”
Bill’s face clouded over. “Well, that’s the bad news,” he said frowning. “The virus corrupted your record. That’s what it does. It erases people. That first time, when you were, um, crucified, well, it had already started writing over your metadata. All I have is your entry date – it’s like a creation date for your virtual self. Your name, family history, and all that other stuff is pretty garbled.”
“So you can’t tell me even my name?”
“Sorry, kid,” said Bill.
“Didn’t James know this?” she asked.
“Oh, probably,” said Bill, “but he never told me. I was new to the facility back then, after you were already pulled out, and he stashed you in the resort program. I wasn’t on your project until after James, well…”
What had happened to James?
“After James did what?” she asked.
“Officially, I’m not allowed to say anything,” he said, suddenly serious. “Unofficially…”
“Unofficially?” she asked.
“Yeah,” he said. “Unofficially, I don’t know. He’s not here. He left some notes about his work on the virus. My team and I carry on trying to make sure it stays wiped out. That’s really all I know.”
“Oh,” she said, “that must be hard, to lose a friend like that.”
“He might have just snapped under the pressure, and quit,” said Bill, “but we should have a record of that too. He’s just listed as missing. Anyway, what we know is that you are one of the early sleepers…”
“Sleepers?” she asked.
“Yeah,” he said, “that’s what we call people who have gone into the boxes. It’s because your bodies or physical parts are sort of, well, asleep. You live in a kind of internal dream world.”
“Okay,” she said. “So how long have I been asleep?”
“200 years,” he said, “give or take.”
“What!?” she yelped.
“Yeah, it’s a long time,” he said. “That’s why your body was so badly affected. The body deteriorates over time, even in the hibernation field. We keep the mind and consciousness going. That’s what “biotech” does. I don’t know the sciencey stuff there, but…”
“So I’m 200 plus years old?”
“Yes and no,” he said. “When you went in, you were young. That much we know from base data. You were about 24. The virus kept that, because it was relevant to their program. They were crucifying a 24 year old woman.”
“Sounds like a reason not to go back into the boxes,” she said. “Could I live out here?”
“I don’t know,” Bill said. “That’s up to “Physio-Rehab”. They’ve been working on your body over the past year. They can tell you.”
“Can someone live forever in the boxes?”
“Hard to say,” said Bill, “but you can live a lot longer than the normal lifespan outside. You’re the oldest person I’ve met and you’re still here.”
“And outside the boxes? If you live longer in the boxes, why do people live out here?”
“Well, some of us like to work on real stuff,” said Bill. “Then there are the scientist types. They like to study the real thing, not a virtual world. And people are needed out here. Someone has to keep the system going. Then there are the religious ones, the people we suspect of making the virus, for example. They believe it’s wrong to go into a virtual paradise – sort of against God’s plan or something. We think some of them might have made the crucifixion virus to attack what they see as wrong.”
“Religious extremists,” she said.
“Yeah,” said Bill, “artificial intelligence terrorism. Anyway, we can wipe the virus, but we have to find out how they got it in here, how it breaks into the box system, and how far up the stack it goes.”
“The stack?”
“Yeah, they’re called boxes because, well, for one, people are in them, like storage, but there isn’t only one box, or even one level. There are simple boxes like your resort, or a small town. There are more complex boxes, like where you learn to play an instrument, or study some sort of advanced subject. There are adventure boxes, holiday boxes, whatever you want, really, and they’re all interlinked and sort of, well, stacked on top of each other. The virus was limited to the simple boxes. You being so, er, old, were probably in one of those levels. Too bad you can’t remember, but I’ll bet you were still in your original primitive stack. Intake got so big at one point that migrating the early sleepers to the new stacks wasn’t a priority.”
“That would explain the glitches in my first crucifixion reality,” she said. “System incompatibility again?”
“Bingo,” said Bill. “The virus seems to have been created with the newer system in mind, and using the newer code. It’s not entirely different, but there are enough system incompatibilities to make things tricky. That also is why so few of the early sleepers were migrated. In the new stacks, the damage was pretty bad.
“How bad,” she asked.
“We lost over 20 million people,” he said, “before we suspended the affected stacks. James had to wipe hundreds of boxes that still had people in them. That was hard on him.”
“He erased them?”
“There wasn’t any choice,” said Bill. “They were going to be crucified in any case, at least from their perspective. They were goners. There were no system glitches to get them out of it. We haven’t seen any new action from the virus until now, and you say it’s different?”
“There’s more to it now,” she said. “There is actually a trial and a flogging now. It’s pretty simple, but before there was just carrying the cross and getting nailed to it.”
“So it’s a new version,” said Bill. “We’ll have to watch for it jumping to the main networks.”
After Bill left, she lay there for a few minutes. This was no life at all. She was bored after a few seconds, unable to move. If this was her outside option, no wonder she had chosen the boxes. She closed her eyes.
She thought she had slept for only a moment, a short catnap, but she woke up feeling weight. The weight of her body, she thought. She could feel a sheet under her bare bottom and back, and she could wiggle her toes. There was another sheet over her, producing resistance against her toes, and moving over her breasts and nipples when she moved her feet. She found she could move her head.
She looked down her body. It seemed that the physio-rehab had worked, and her body was looking sort of normal. She pulled off the sheet, and examined herself. There was her coppery skin, her dark nipples on pretty rounded breasts, a softly curved belly, slim legs and a neatly trimmed patch of dark hair between her thighs. She almost sobbed in relief.
She sat up and looked around. Still in the white hospital-like room. The same cupboards and countertops, only now she was on a bed against one of the walls. The monitor screens on the counters were dark. Turned off. Makes sense, she thought, if I’m okay. Now what do I do? Someone should tell me what my options are. Is Bill around?
She stood up, expecting to feel weak. This body had not stood up in over 200 years, after all, but she seemed fine. Must be the effects of good rehab and muscle memory, she thought. I know how to stand. She walked naked over to the door panel. She still couldn’t figure out how it opened. There didn’t seem to be a mechanism for that.
It’s like I’m still in a box, only this time it’s a real box with four walls, she thought.
“Hello!” she said loudly. “Is there anyone around? I’m awake. Can I talk to someone?”
Nothing happened. She almost expected a light from some surveillance system to blink. She looked at the monitor screens, but they remained black. She noticed then a pile of white cloth items on the counter beside the monitors. There were a couple of white shirts, loose fitting soft cottony material, and some shorts, boxer style. There was no underwear.
She pulled on a shirt and a pair of the shorts. It felt good to wear something. I guess I’m not a natural nudist, she thought wryly.
She saw something else. A small hand tablet that had been left with the clothing. She picked it up and looked at it. It was about 3 inches wide and 5 inches tall, about a quarter-inch thick. It was black, the front surface a shiny smooth glass. There was a small stud at the side. She pressed it.
The screen came to life, providing a menu. Apparently, she could control all sorts of things from this menu. One of the items was “Communication”. She tapped it like she had seen Bill do on his tablet. A notice filled the screen that said: “Communication System is not connected at this time. Please try later.” There didn’t seem to be an option to get more information.
The menu returned after a few seconds. The “Holoprojector” option activated a holoprojector, and she was able to find a historical documentary. The basic gist was that climate change and war had ravaged much of the planet. Overpopulation had become a problem, with major famines, rising sea levels and unpredictable weather causing a lot of problems. Ultimately, strict population controls had been imposed, aimed at not just stopping growth, but actually reducing the planet’s population. Now with the box stacks having been more or less perfected, most people lived part of their lives normally, especially if they were approved to have a child, and when they got older, they went into the box to extend their lives, seemingly indefinitely. There were apparently holding facilities all over the world, obviously in secret locations, where all these people “slept”, apparently having the time of their lives.
“Not all fun and games,” she muttered, and turned off the holoprojector. She felt hungry, but checked the communications option again. It was still down. She felt frustrated. She scrolled down the menu, wondering how long the tablet would last. She couldn’t see a battery or power status. Anyway, she was hungry, and needed to find a restaurant, or a cafeteria, or whatever this place had. Bill and his colleagues had to eat somewhere.
One of the menu items said: “Door Access”. She touched it and noticed that there was a sub-menue, listing a series of about 5 numbers. The first was labelled “Home – 20-073”. She touched the green stud icon next to the label and her door panel slid open silently. So they had given her access to her own room. She still thought it was odd that she had not seen anyone yet. Surely they knew she was awake.
She stepped out into the hallway. Fortunately, the hallway was as clean as her room, since she wasn’t wearing shoes. Nobody was in the hallway either, but she smelled coffee and something like toasted bread down the hallway to her right. That suggested not only food, but hopefully some people serving and eating it. She could meet someone. She realized how lonely she was suddenly, as well as hungry.
The smell led to an archway labelled “Cafeteria – 20-133”. Her tablet didn’t list this room on its door menu, but the archway was open and she went in. The tables were clear. There was a holoscreen that filled one wall, providing a view of a city park with a lake, probably somewhere in Africa, by the palm trees and thatched roof of the park pavilion in the scene. The smells of food were overpowering to her now. What was missing was a sign of any other people to eat the food. The tables were all unused. There was a woman standing behind a serving counter, apparently bored. She just stood with a dull look on her face.
She approached the serving counter, and suddenly the woman there smiled. “Good morning,” she said cheerfully, “or is it afternoon already. I always get lost in time here. No windows,” she explained. “What can I get you? Special to day is beef stew with a green salad and fresh bread.”
“That sounds great,” she said. She realized she had no money, but decided she would assume she was going to be fed, and if there was a problem, it was easier to argue on a full stomach. The serving woman was not fussing. She added a bowl of apple crisp and a cup of coffee.
“There you go, dearie,” said the woman. “You enjoy that now.”
“Where are all the other people?” she asked the woman.
“You never know,” said the serving woman. “Sometimes this place is full, and other times it’s like there’s nobody here at all. Today is dull.”
She took her tray to one of the tables and sat down to eat. She looked back at the serving counter. The woman smiled at her encouragingly. She picked up her fork and tried the stew. It was excellent and she had shortly finished the entire bowl, as well as the salad and bread. By the time she finished the apple crisp and coffee, she felt almost right again.
She stood up, checking to make sure she had her tablet, and looked at the serving counter. It was dark and there was no serving woman. In fact, there were no serving trays at all. The counter was clean, as if it had been closed for hours. She knew she could not have been eating for more than about a half hour. She shivered. Something was odd here. She didn’t like it.
She wanted to talk to someone. This place was too empty. Too creepy. She checked her tablet and punched the “Communications” tab again.
“Message Waiting”, flashed onto her screen. She tapped it.
“Please come to Room 20-325. Scheduled Debrief. James,” it said. The message flashed off.
She looked down the hallway, which went on for about 20 meters and then turned left. The room numbers seemed to be increasing, so she followed the hallway. 20-325 was a further 100 meters after she turned left, the hallway still eerie, despite being well lit, and clean, the gray floor shining, and the walls painted white. She stood outside the door panel, which stayed closed.
She checked her tablet. The door was listed on her sub-menu, and tapping the green button made it slide open. She walked into a wood panelled room furnished with a holoprojector and what appeared to be a cot. There was a mahogany desk to her left. Nobody was in the room.
“James?” she said. “Hello? I’m here.”
The door slid shut behind her and when she turned around, she couldn’t tell there was a door. At the same time, the holoprojector lit up projecting an image of a man.
“James,” she whispered.
“You are in danger,” said James, obviously a recording. “This place you’re in, it’s a sort of box, one they don’t know about. Listen, they can’t repair your body, not after 200 years. You have no future outside. And they can’t let you out – your story about the crucifixion virus would scare people. They can’t risk it. They’ll put you back inside anyway to get you out of the way. I think I found a way to destroy the virus, but I couldn’t do it from out there, so I’m inside now, a sleeper. I couldn’t take you in with me, but I worked on your case so long, I started to care about you. I need you to trust me. This box you’re in will expire in a few minutes, and you need to choose what you want to do before it does. Press the green tab on your tablet to join me. I promise you’ll be safe. Please join me here. I’. There isn’t much time.”
The holoprojector flickered off.
“James!” she cried. What sort of message was that. Why did he always have to be so cryptic. It was like a spy movie where the mystery man says “I’ll explain everything.” That didn’t always end well.
She realized that she was in a facsimile of the facility, not the real facility at all. That explained all the creepy stuff. She searched the wall behind her, but there was no door. She checked her tablet. The menus had disappeared. The only choice was unlabelled – a green square. If she pressed it, the holographic message suggested she would end up a sleeper, inside a box, maybe with James. Could she trust him? She wanted to trust him, but what did she really know about him?
What about Bill? He said she had options. Bio-tech was regenerating her body. James said she had no options, and he had bailed on her. Disappeared. She couldn’t choose. She didn’t know who to trust.
“Damn it, James,” she muttered. The last times she had been asleep, she had been crucified and flogged. The second time, James hadn’t been there. Bill had pulled her out. That didn’t sound like James keeping her safe. Now he was back and the first thing he did was pull her into this empty, eerie shell of a place, another box, without her consent. Now she was angry. Nobody was telling her anything, and he expected her to choose.
She would take her chances outside, where she was real, and where she could have some say over her life.
Still her finger hovered over the green square. She looked at it. “James,” she whispered. She almost pressed the square, bright green on the pad in front of her. She pulled her finger away. What should she do?
The green button faded. “No!” she yelled, and frantically hit the tablet. Nothing happened.
Then she woke up. She was in the stasis field, back in the white hospital room with the brain scan and the data readouts. Bill was looking down at her. He smiled, but it wasn’t a pleasant smile.
“So,” he said. “The prodigal consciousness has returned home to roost at last. I wonder where you went. I think we need to sort out your future, don’t we?”
Even without any sensation in her body, she still felt cold.
to be continued...
