Broken Pixels (The Chronicles of Mara Lantern, Book 4) (20 page)

After going over the functionality of the receptacles for more than an hour, Ethan suggested they quickly visit Cam’s receptacle and return to the main laboratory facility. Mara continued to ask questions as the elevator took them to the lower floors of the repository.

“So, if I understand you correctly, the occupants of the receptacles have no way to communicate with each other directly,” Mara said.

Ethan looked somewhat puzzled by the notion and glanced at Cam with an expression that seemed to ask,
where did you find these people?
To Mara, he shook his head and said, “Our biological bodies don’t need to talk to each other. The integration of the Sig-net with the receptacles is only for synching up the knowledge and experiences of our synthetic selves with our biological bodies. We live one life. Our original bodies don’t conduct conversations on the side. That would be ludicrous.”

Mara shrugged and said, “I’m not an expert on your technology, but you said the minds of the occupants interact with the receptacles, that their thoughts control when they sync up with the information sent from their synthetic bodies.”

“That’s correct.”

“So is there some kind of firewall that prevents them from accessing the Sig-net and contacting each other directly?” she asked. Before he could answer, her eyes widened, and she raised a finger. “Or has the biological body ever attempted to send information to the synthetic one? I didn’t see anything on the schematics you showed us that would necessarily prevent that.”

Ethan looked at her like she was nuts. “The two bodies—synthetic and biological—are the same person. They share the same experiences. Why would the biological body need to send anything to the synthetic one?”

“Maybe it’s bored standing in a tube day in and day out,” Sam said.

Ethan seemed to be restraining himself from rolling his eyes. Cam chuckled at him. After a moment the attendant said, “If I understand the situation correctly, none of this will be an issue for the three of you, since you won’t be making the transition to synthetic bodies.”

“That’s true,” Mara said. “But we will be connected to the receptacle itself, so we will be sharing whatever experiences your biological bodies have—minus receiving information from synthetic bodies.”

The elevator slowed, and Mara looked over her shoulder at Ping who stood behind her. “You got quiet all a sudden.”

Ping stared at the front elevator wall without responding. Thinking he was daydreaming or distracted by some random thought, Mara poked her elbow backward into his ribs to catch his attention. “You all right?” she asked.

Ping smiled at her but didn’t reply. The elevator stopped, and the doors opened. As everyone disembarked, Mara turned and grabbed Ping’s arm, preventing him from stepping off.

“Are you all right?” she asked.

Ping frowned and shook his head, raising his left hand to his ear. “I beg your pardon?”

“Ping! I’m standing right next to you. Can’t you hear me?”

He shook his head again and said a little too loudly, “I seem to have lost my hearing. Perhaps the descent in the elevator has caused some pressure to build up in my ears, and they just need to pop.”

Then the lights went out.

“Mara?” Ping called out.

“I’m right here,” she said.

Ping reached out into the dark, almost flailing. Mara grabbed his wrist firmly and pulled him toward the open doors of the elevators.

With a soft
click
, muted lights illuminated in the hallway.

“It’ll take the backup system a few seconds to fully kick in,” Ethan said, standing in the hall with Cam and Sam. “The priority goes to powering the receptacles, then to the ancillary systems like lighting here."

“Is it unusual to have power outages like this?” Mara asked, still holding on to Ping’s arm.

“No, but with everything that’s happening aboveground, I suppose it wouldn’t be too surprising that the power grid might experience some interruptions,” he said. “Like I said, we have a substantial capacity off the grid, so there won’t be a problem.”

Noticing Mara’s solicitousness toward Ping, Ethan asked, “Is there something the matter?”

Mara nodded. “Ping seems to have lost his hearing. He thinks it might have been the quick descent on the elevator.”

Ethan shook his head. “No, the air pressure in the elevator car and on the floors is closely regulated. It’s more likely he’s experiencing the initial effects of the virus. We should get him to the lab immediately to be examined.”

Ping stared at them, confused.

Sam’s face reddened. “You mean he needs to go into one of those receptacles.”

“He’ll have an examination and a dosage of Quintivir beforehand, but, yes, he needs to go into a receptacle before his condition progresses,” Ethan said.

The lights around them brightened, and Ethan pointed toward the elevator. “It should be safe to ride up to the bridgeway now. We should not delay.”

Just as they reentered the elevator and the doors slid closed behind them, the lights flickered again. The elevator car did not move. Mara was about to say something when Ethan raised a hand and said, “Hold on.”

A man’s voice from a speaker embedded in the panel of buttons next to the door said, “We are making some minor adjustments to power flow. It will be a couple moments. Please wait.”

“Like we have a choice,” Sam said.

Mara leaned closer to Cam and whispered, “Can we get a Sig-net message to Dr. Canfield and let her know that Ping is on his way over?”

“Ethan already contacted her. She knows we’re coming,” Cam said.

The elevator moved. Mara looked at Ping and mouthed the words, “We’re going to the doctor.”

Ping nodded and then looked at the ceiling, trying not to appear concerned.

Ethan said to no one in particular, “Before they went down, the news streams reported that the regional transceiver node in Portland was under attack by a large crowd. That is likely the cause of our problems.”

Mara looked at Cam. “Transceiver node?”

“Signals and energy node. It’s the facility that generates the Sig-net network and maintains the power grid.”

“Who would attack that?” she asked.

“No one who needs the grid to live. Without the Sig-net and the energy transmission grid, we’d all just be piles of inanimate mechanisms.”

“You mean, your buildings and devices, right?” Sam asked. “You said your skin absorbs light and turns it into energy. You even lived in our realm without this energy grid.”

“I had to make a point of spending a lot of time in the light,” Cam said. “And while I didn’t have the grid to draw on, I also didn’t have the grid drawing on my reserves either.”

“You mean the energy you draw in is offloaded? You’re actually part of the power grid? Why can’t everyone just make their own power?” Mara asked.

“Half the planet is in darkness at any given moment and those people generally use more energy than they generate during those hours. It allows us to live normally twenty-four hours a day,” Cam said.

“Unless someone like our Aphotis friend messes with the signal and energy node,” Mara said. “Don’t tell me the only source of power this whole realm has is what you are able to absorb through your skin. There must be other resources, additional solar panels, geothermal, hydroelectric, something.”

“Of course, but remember, we not only have to provide power for each other, but for the repository system and the rest of our society—and all of it comes through the regional transceiver node. Without the signals, people will eventually become confused and disoriented. Without the power, they will eventually get inactive. If the node is really down, it’s probably pandemonium out there,” Cam said.

“Sounds like Abby to me,” Sam said.

Ping looked back and forth between them with a look of confusion as the elevator ascended.

For all Mara knew, Ping was on the same gurney that held Cam’s headless body when they had arrived at the repository the previous day. They were definitely in the same laboratory watching Dr. Canfield poke some kind of instrument resembling a stubby glow stick into Ping’s left ear. She eyed a monitor on the far side of the room and frowned when it emitted a buzzing sound. Straightening, she removed the device, and she looked in the air and spoke to no one in particular. “Body scan, full spectrum.”

Standing right behind the doctor, next to Sam, Mara asked, “What’s wrong?”

Without looking back at her, the doctor said, “I’m not sure. We seem to be having issues with our equipment.”

A robotic arm with some kind of window-washing squeegee attached slid silently from a panel that opened in the ceiling. It positioned itself two feet above Ping’s forehead, as if it were about to give him a thorough wiping. He stared up at it with crossed eyes.

“Begin scan,” Dr. Canfield said.

A blue light emitted from the squeegee and swept over Ping’s face. The robotic arm moved, guiding the band of blue light down the length of his body. At his shoulders, it paused when a loud chirping sound came out of the monitor next to the gurney.

Dr. Canfield’s brows knitted together, but she said, “Continue.”

The robotic arm painted Ping with its band of blue light. When the monitor chirped a second time, it paused again, and the doctor said, “Override all errors. Continue and complete the scan.”

The band of light continued down his body without stopping again, despite three more chirps from the monitor. Once the scan was complete, the robotic arm retracted into the ceiling without making a sound.

“Report,” the doctor said, again to no one in particular.

A soothing male voice came from the monitor and said, “Cellular density of the patient is in a state of severe flux, making scan results most likely unreliable.”

A look of surprise on her face, Dr. Canfield looked at Ping but spoke to the monitor, “
Flux
? What are you talking about?”

“The space between the cells of the patient’s body expands and contracts randomly, causing dramatic shifts in tissue density. The size of each cell appears to be changing as well,” the monitor voice said.

“What could be causing such a thing?” the doctor asked.

For a few seconds the monitor yielded no response, but then the computerized voice said, “The patient is not human.” After another pause, the voice added, “Or suffers from a radical genetic mutation that has never been recorded.”

The shocked look on the doctor’s face caused Ping to sit up. “What’s the matter? It’s the dissoluendo virus. Right?” he said a little too loudly.

Mara stepped up next to the gurney and patted him on the shoulder. To the doctor, she said, “What’s going on? What’s all that about not being human?”

“Our equipment seems to be having trouble scanning his body. I guess when you said that you were from a different reality, you were telling the truth. The computer seems to think Mr. Ping is some kind of mutant,” she said.

“Can you help him or not?” Mara asked.

“To be perfectly honest with you, I’m not sure. Clearly the earlier scans detected the presence of the virus in his body, and hearing loss is definitely a first-stage symptom. I need to understand a bit about how your bodies are different from ours before going ahead with treatment.”

“Well, it’s more complicated than that. You see, each of us are from a different realm—and Ping, in particular, has some physical characteristics that are unique,” Mara said.

“Unique? In what way?”

Sam leaned forward and said, “Ping explodes into a cloud of dust if you startle him.”

Dr. Canfield gave him a doubtful look and turned to Mara, who was glaring at her brother, and said, “Why do you have to blurt out stuff like that?”

Sam shrugged. “Sorry.”

Mara said to the doctor, “It’s an evolutionary adaptation of the people and animals in the realm where Ping was born. To be honest with you, we don’t really understand much about how it works.”

Dr. Canfield rubbed her cheek and turned to Ping. “Perhaps it is best if I talk to Mr. Ping about all this.”

She reached up to Ping’s shoulder and pushed it to indicate that she wanted him to lie back on the gurney. At first he resisted and said, “I would feel better if someone would tell me what is going on. Perhaps just write it on a piece of paper.”

The doctor pointed to the monitor screen, wanting Ping to look at it. She narrowed her eyes slightly, and the screen went blank. Then letters appeared on the screen: “I’ll implement an auditory interface with your brain so you can hear us. That will allow me to consult with you. Would that be okay?”

Ping locked gazes with her and nodded. He reclined on the gurney.

The doctor looked up toward the ceiling and said, “Initiate cerebral auditory interface.”

The panel in the ceiling opened, and the robot arm extended from it, this time with a wand attached in place of the prior squeegee. Positioning itself directly above Ping’s chest, the arm pointed the wand at the center of his forehead. A beam of blue light emitted from it for several seconds.

Dr. Canfield placed a hand on Ping’s arm and said, “Try not to move for a few seconds to give the system time to establish the link.”

Ping’s eyes widened, and he said, “I can hear you. It’s faint, but I hear sound.”

“Just a few more seconds,” the doctor said.

The beam disappeared, and the robotic arm silently folded back into the ceiling.

The doctor smiled at him and asked, “Is it louder now?”

Ping nodded and tried to lift himself on an elbow, but his eyes rolled up in his head, and he slumped back down.

“The system has addressed your hearing loss temporarily, but the dizziness will persist, so it might be best for you to remain prone. Closing your eyes might be helpful,” she said.

Ping complied and sighed. “Thank you, doctor.”

“Okay, explain to me why our scanners seem to think the cells of your body are on the verge of flying apart,” she said.

“It is a normal physiological response for me when my body is under stress,” Ping said. “While it may appear to your scanners that I’m about to come apart, it’s just my body dealing with the infection from the virus.”