Crash Flux 1: Welcome To The Machine

Copyright © 2014 Kevin Battleson

All Rights Reserved

A Belfort & Bastion Book

Dedicated To:

Steven Rayl, for believing anything is possible

Alan Pouget, for never saying die (except when he was trying to kill me.

To Greg Stauffer, for providing the character basis for Charlie (Beernutz!)

Carol Puszert, for her love and support

To all you knuckleheads at UCI, for your creativity and inspiration

To my old Mage RPG club, for all the strange and weird times we had

To my new friends, for shaking things up

To my readers, for buying this book

To everyone, may you live long, happy lives

ARCLITE: Active Response Control Lethal Infoburst Transmission Emitter.  A program that sends deadly biofeedback through a neural uplink or C-MAX.  Can cause heart attacks, strokes, or in extreme cases, burns and electrocution.

Chit: a plastic card with a magnetic stripe that serves as currency with a particular corporation or set of corporations.

CIC: Citizen Identification Center.  The massive institution that runs profiles and stores information on the people of Datcora.

Commjack: Also known as a Wireless Jack, a commjack is a physical piece of hardware that allows a machine to connect to other machines through phasespace.

Comm-line: Also known as a Comm Link, this is an abstract representation of a wireless connection between two devices.

C-MAX: Cognitive Enhancement Memory Augmentation Communications System, also known as CEMACS.  A combination of a wireless jack, an artificial brain graft, and a powerful memory storage device, a C-MAX enhances the users intelligence and gives them access to wireless communications systems.

CPS: Central Processing Spire, or simply, “The Spire”.  The worlds most powerful computer, built into a long, thin superstructure similar to that of a skyscraper, centered in Datcora.

CR: Conditioned Response.  A response that has been implanted in a human mind that results in a specific response every time that person is exposed to a particular stimulus, or “trigger”. 

FAE Munitions:  Fuel Air Explosive Munitions use the principle that a fuel combusts much more efficiently when dispersed as a vapor than as a liquid.  FAE Munitions disperse a fuel mixture aerosol that results in a powerful explosion.

Flat Deck: A powerful, generic VR “deck” used to enhance VR perception and provide analytical support to its user.

HAP: Humantix Achievement Program.  A test administered by the Humantix corporation that determines a citizen's eligibility to move through the castes of Datcora.

Holografix Corporation: The Media Conglomerate that holds a monopoly over the distribution of information inside Datcora.  Is considered part of the state.

Humantix Corporation: The supreme executive authority in Datcora, Humantix also holds the exclusive patents to the C-MAX, the Neural Uplink, and Infobursting technologies.  Owns the Central Processing Spire.

Hypercomp: A powerful computer with direct access to the Spire.  Often has many banks of computers “slaved” to it, to increase its processing power.

Mag-Locks: Locks that use a “keycard” with a magnetic stripe that is read by the lock.

Mag-Tubes: Subways that use magnetically levitated rails to create a frictionless surface and propel the passenger pods through vacuum tubes at tremendous speeds.

Marquee Deck: A powerful VR “deck” or computer that is specifically designed to defeat encryption software.  Makes extensive use of iconography and symbol sets.

Node: An abstract location inside a computer system or network correlating to a particular function or purpose.  Can be somewhat misleading, as a node can use offline memory storage, represent more than one processor working in conjunction with another, banks of computers working together as a server, etc.

Nueral Uplink: A small band of green and yellow circuitry that surrounds the users skull like a headband.  Gives the user access to VR.

Padwork: Electronic paperwork. Phase Wire: A piece of material that exists partially in phasespace.  It passes harmlessly through most substances, but when activated cuts through even the thickest solid objects with no resistance.

Quebic Deck: A powerful VR “deck” or computer that is specifically designed for use with hardware systems.  Has various ports and attachments to interface with machines and devices.

Trigger: A set of stimulus programmed in a human mind that results in a conditioned response.

UCD: Universal Communication Device.  A government sponsored communication, tracking, and monitoring device.  Can perform most of the basic functions of a computer, but is mostly used to make phone calls.  All other phone devices are outlawed in Datcora.

VTOL: Vertical Take Off and Landing.  Applies specifically to vehicles with jets that can be maneuvered both backwards, to provide thrust, and downwards, to provide lift.

Snake: A weapon used by Expeditionary Forces special operatives, the snake is a tiny dart that hovers on micro air jets, with a camera attachment and anchor spikes for climbing.  It is attached to either a filament cable for climbing or a phasewire for use in melee.

SWORDS: Special Weapons Ordinance Response and Delivery System.  A powerful laser rifle used for assassination and vehicle neutralization.

It was dark.  He was covered in something slimy, something sticky.  He could not see or hear, he did not know where he was or how he got there.  His body was suspended in mid air, weightless.  Try as he might, he could not remember his name.

The answer came from a digitized voice that made his teeth buzz, his nerves rattle.  “Prisoner Raydin Hiroshima-Phoenix, tier twenty-four, red sector, district eight, correction and rehabilitation facility.  Release date, week ten, fourth quarter, fiscal year two-thousand, three-hundred twenty-four, tock ten, tick zero, numetric standard time.”  The voice grated on him, made him want to gnash his teeth against the bit in his mouth.

He remembered he was inside the isolation chamber, surrounded by synthetic embryonic fluid, connected to the machine through a neural interface, being kept alive by breathing apparatus and feed tubes.  Tiny clips on his fingers stimulated sensation throughout his whole body.  Raydin struggled to remember why he was here and what he was supposed to do.  He fought to keep his eyes open, until he finally lost the battle and drifted back to sleep.  

Air bubbles floated up through his oxygen tank, his eyes were open, but he could not see.  Sedatives dripped through the needle in his arm.  His mind slowed to a crawl as the drone of command hypnosis faded into the background, catching scraps of dialogue such as, “…I will be a productive citizen, I will respect the sovereignty of my corporation, I will obey the law…”

Attached to his forehead was a green headband, its inner lining etched with yellow circuitry.  The neural uplink linked his brain to the conditioned response program administering his punishment.  The pins buried in his nerves sent a surge of electricity through him after every command phrase.  After the first hour, his mind began to disassociate, until he felt nothing.  His body continued to respond, twitching slightly each time an electrical current passed through his nervous system.

Time deprivation was part of the program, but he knew how to beat the system.  Raydin’s own monotone counting had already faded back into his unconscious, continuing even as he slept.  Raydin counted one-thousand nine-hundred and ninety-nine ticks since his last communication.  Raydin struggled, trying to think while half-asleep.  “Twenty tocks to every day, a hundred ticks to every tock and a hundred pips to every tick.”  Raydin’s sub-conscious mind panicked, making random associations, trying to remember why it had to wake up.  “Three weeks to every month, ten days to every week.  Seventy-two minutes to every tock, forty-three point two seconds to every tick, point forty three seconds to every pip.  Ten pips are called a burst- a burst!”  He suddenly knew the last infoburst would be coming soon.  With that dawning awareness, he woke up, and braced himself.

A scientist lectured to a group of students outside the chamber.  Raydin couldn’t hear them, couldn’t see them, but somehow, he knew they were there.  He spoke from outside the chamber, “Sleep deprivation is a necessary part of the program.  Without it, the subject might consciously perceive the control stimulus.  The first few hours are the worse, extreme care must be taken that the painful electrical shocks do not physically traumatize the patient as they send him into a dissociative state.  Once this state is achieved, the brain no longer consciously feels pain, which leaves the subject more receptive towards hypnotic suggestion.”

“The Himler-Mengal method is over ninety-nine percent effective, almost anyone can be programmed using conditioned response therapy.  The problem is regression.  C.R. programming degrades over time.  Some subjects do not respond to positive reinforcement, they will not report in for reconditioning and will revert back to their old behavior within months or years.  I am afraid that without this treatment, these animals will simply become more and more prone to acts of violence.  He might try to commit suicide, or, worse, hurt someone else.”

“The infoburst will hit him any second now.”  He tried to speak over the hum of the generator.  “The neural uplink is bombarding his brain with compressed iconography, thousands of images, animations, symbols, and text messages playing too fast to consciously perceive.  The program decompresses inside his mind, flooding it.”

Raydin clenched his teeth on his bit at the intense white noise.  Raydin focused, ignoring the video clip of a man injecting a needle into his eye.  His mind raced, the needles on the diagnostics board pushing into the red.  “It doesn’t work, I’ll be out of here in less than an hour, C.R. is all bullshit!”   Raydin breathed deep, starting over.  “Focus, man, you have to time it just right, feel it in your gut… don’t want to end up just like everybody else...”  He focused on the flashing images and slow, scrolling, blinking texts.  He held his breath, feeling the rage burning in his chest.  “Fuck You!” he thought.  “Fuck You!  FUCK ALL OF YOU!”

*

“Raydin?”  Irule awoke with a start.  She thought she had heard Raydin screaming.  She had been sleeping in the vanity room of the club, the rest of the working girls in a whirl around her.  The club was set up in a storage warehouse, prepared to move at a moments notice, and it showed; the vanity room was nothing more than a glorified office cubicle, and the place was freezing cold.  She was wearing a high-cut syth-leather jacket over a black lace bra, with nothing on below the waste but a pair of nylon stockings and a pair of matching panties.  Alfredo yelled into the door, “You’re up Irule.  Your mark is on the floor.”

Irule put on her heels and set out on stage.  It had been a long time since she had been working girl, and it all came rushing back, the flush, warm feeling inside her, the heat of the stage, the thrill, the excitement.  She took off her jacket and worked the pole, eyeing her mark, sitting in a metal chair below.  She grinded up against it, moving up and down with the pole between her legs.  She slid the cup of her bra under her breast, quickly hiding it by turning her back to the crowd.  She pulled the bra over her head and turned around, cupping her breasts in her hands and moving them up her body as she rolled her shoulders back, her long blond hair spilling over her shoulders.  Tilting her head towards the spotlight above, it bathed her in a red glow.  She got down on her knees and arched her back, feeling his eyes moving across the curve of her hips, around her shoulders and towards her breasts.  She crawled across the stage, eyeing the stooge like a wolf stalking a wounded elk.  

She finished up her set, working the rest of the stage but making sure the man sitting below kept his eyes fixated on her.  She picked up her jacket off the floor and swung it over her shoulder, then walked off the stage.  She walked towards him, slowly swinging her hips from side to side.  Leaning over, she whispered something softly in his ear.  He could barely make out the words “private show” over the sound of his own labored breathing.  A split second later, he was trailing behind her like a dog on a leash.

She finished putting on her jacket, leaving it unzipped as she walked to the storage unit.  She opened the rolling door, there was nothing inside but a lounge chair and a small table to set drinks upon.  She took the drink out of his hands and finished it, slamming it back and leaving him with and empty glass.

She was starting to feel it, the aggression, the hostility, all the things that got her worked up before a show.  She pushed him inside and he fell into the lounge chair inside.  She closed the shed door behind her and the red light came on as it shut.  She climbed on top of him, stroking his bald head and pressing her body hard against him.  She grinded her hips across his lap, and whispered in his ear.  “Close your eyes.”  She placed her hand on his chest.