MINDFRACK Read online

  Ade stared at him, fixated, like an obsessed alchemist on the verge of transmuting lead into gold. Salvatore blinked once.

  Ade released his breath. “Are you in any pain?”

  Two blinks.

  “Are you feeling dizzy or pressure in your head or eyes?”

  Two blinks. In truth, Salvatore felt relaxed, which was at odds with his predicament. He continued watching Ade closely, found his widening grin unsettling.

  “You’re different, but you know that. Took a long time tracking you down. I had to search through a mountain of medical records to find someone like you. And you were homeless, which didn’t make it easy to find you, by the way. But couldn’t believe my luck when I did.”

  Salvatore narrowed his eyes.

  “You don’t understand what I’m going on about – of course not. Well, your mind is wired differently than normal people. But you do know that. The important thing is, it’s what makes you perfect for our little project here. The other subjects, they failed, but always for the same reason. You’re going to prove my theory. Together we’re going to be famous – well, within the labs here, and then maybe my biography, when it all comes out, in the future …”

  Ade seemed to be happy with Salvatore’s progress and proceeded to pace around the room, one hand on his head, talking fast to himself in incomprehensible medical terms. “Open John Six medidiary, phase two, post-op one …

  “Subject’s initial catatonic state relieved directly by novel inhibition of targeted hypothalamus clusters. Implantation of modified iCBC transducer successful. Invasive dendritic activity at fifty-three percent, on course for completion tail-off and activation within twenty-four hours. Use of synthetic emotion inhibitors … H-2 anti-corticotropin … relieving and preventing psychotic tendency …”

  Ade came back to stand in front of Salvatore, the cadence of his voice slowing, and said, “Summary: implantation and acceptance of modified cortical transducer successful, while the subject has been rendered emotionally controllable and therefore an ideal test base for pushing through to the next stage and, ultimately, total deconstruction.”

  Salvatore’s brow dropped. What in Mother Mary was total deconstruction?

  Ade returned to him. “I’m going to induce sleep for you. When you come around next time, things will be very different. You and I will be working together, a team.”

  Salvatore blinked twice, waited, and blinked twice more. They were deliberate and strong blinks. Surely Ade would notice his concern? Panic threatened to consume him before being driven back by that strange sensation, like an ice crystal blooming deep within his head before spreading and dissipating through his scalp. Calm returned.

  Ade’s smile collapsed into wilfulness. Dropping his voice, he said, “You do understand, don’t you? You’re going to give me the results I need. Between you and me, we’ll show those idiots what’s possible.”

  Salvatore raised his eyebrows and tried to look inquisitive.

  Ade ignored his efforts. “Do we have an understanding?”

  Salvatore blinked once.

  Ade moved closer. “Now, don’t worry.” His voice had taken on a lighter, soothing tone. “We’ll have you sorted in a mo –”

  Somewhere, a door opened.

  “Ade? You do not look good. You’re starting to worry us. We’re taking a vote on this. It’s been four days?“

  “You don’t have to – I’ve done it. It worked.” Ade stepped aside, revealing Salvatore.

  “He’s responded and out of coma?”

  “Yes.”

  “Psychosis?”

  “None.”

  “Degradation, episodic aberrations?”

  “None detected – so far.”

  “Congratulations, Ade. But you need to sort yourself out. You look like zombie-shit.”

  “I’m about to put J-Six under. I’d appreciate you taking over for a while? Don’t have to do anything. Just monitor.”

  “The rest of the team will be in shortly. I came in early – thought there might have been a problem getting into the building.”

  “Why?”

  “You haven’t heard?”

  “What, Malik? Just tell me.”

  “Something happened with the old man. Some sort of scandal. A sexbot jumped from his penthouse earlier this morning. And a hooker was involved. She was beaten.”

  “Oh.”

  “Yeah, they’ve closed down the road outside the entrance. Ambulances, police. Still some diversions in place. Check out the news. Right, I’m off to the cafeteria for a coffee. You want some?”

  “No. Thanks. I’m going home to freshen up. Keep me updated if there are any problems here. I’ll be back in a few hours. Ask the lab PA for updates, if you need them.”

  Ade turned back to Salvatore.

  “Now, here we go, John. You’ll feel great when you wake up ...”

  Salvatore balked, his eyes widening with the impossibility of his predicament.

  Ade busied himself with his tablet.

  New sensations enveloped Salvatore, this time warm and fuzzy ones. He struggled to remain conscious. Miniature hands were tugging at his eyelids. He tried to watch Ade, but the blinds descended, relentlessly, until they snapped shut, insulating him from the horrors of his strange new world.

  9

  Logan snaked his way briskly though one of the cluttered open-office areas of NYPD’s Crime Lab at Jamaica, Queens, before turning off into a corridor of glass. Discreet security cams flew above, dynamically verifying his identity while he swept through the restricted area. He nodded at familiar faces through internal lab windows, though he was in no mood to stop.

  His office lay at the end of the floor. It was labelled Digital Forensics – 5th/6th Gen Robotics. The room was similar in size and layout to a large suburban kitchen, with an array of worktops and “white goods” that were the tools of their trade for examining components that made up any intelligent robotic device that could fit through the door. Additional shelving was strewn with robotic body parts, predominantly human-like. Limbs hung from the ceiling and off the shelving; with the lights dimmed during off-hours, it could look macabre to a passing eye.

  Diaz was hunched over a desk in the corner, attired in a blue lab coat and with her hair tied back. She snatched a look towards Logan at the sound of the door opening. “What happened? – expected you over an hour ago. And you didn’t answer my calls?”

  “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you. Do me a favour. Scan me for bugs, the works?”

  “Dynamic does that as routine.”

  “I know, but humour me?”

  “Okay, hang on …”

  Diaz walked over to a plastic storage bin and pulled out a wand scanner. She turned it on and waved it around Logan’s body. “There, nothing. Anything else?”

  “I want a blood works, but keep it out of anything official.”

  Diaz frowned. “Why? What happened to you this morning?”

  “Sorry, Diaz, I don’t want to talk about it right now. You got that perp kit?”

  “Full or partial?”

  “Full.”

  “Here,” she said, fishing a sealed grey plastic wallet out of a cupboard.

  As Logan slipped his jacket off and slung it over a seat, he caught Diaz eyeing the detritus from the builders’ storeroom that was still clinging to it. “Again, don’t ask. I got into something at the station. Some really fucked-up stuff. I’m not even sure if I believe it myself.” He sat down and rolled up his shirtsleeve as he spoke.

  Diaz tore open the wallet and pulled out the perp kit, which looked like a slim-line blood pressure sleeve with some integrated vials.

  Logan wrapped the sleeve around his arm and it tightened and adjusted itself while finding a suitable vein. He felt a sharp prick and waited for the digital display to state that the extract was complete. “I can call in a couple of favours, but I need you to get it in under the radar. Make it Mr Smith or something.”

  Diaz raised her brow and nodde
d. She released the Velcro, removed the sleeve and pulled out the small vials. “Okay, I’ll get that done. Hey …”

  “What?”

  “Be careful with the dust in here, will you?”

  Logan huffed. “You’ll make someone a great nag one day, Gloria.” He became serious again. “Do me a favour. If the lab is left unoccupied, make sure it’s locked.”

  “You know it locks automatically?”

  “Christ, have I got to make myself clear?” he snapped back.

  Diaz recoiled. “No. Are you sure you’re all right, Mac?”

  Logan kneaded his brow feverishly, surprised at his overreaction. He’d never railed at Diaz like that before and felt like a jerk for doing so. “Hey, I’m sorry. I’ve had a weird morning. Get that blood works done and find out what’s in my system, will you?” He felt compelled to repeat himself. “And – please – can you just ensure that this room is secured at all times?”

  “Okay …” Diaz looked at him quizzically, before shaking her head and returning her attention to the playmate.

  “Is she functioning?” asked Logan, looking the playmate over.

  “Yes,” Diaz said. “She’ll function as long as there’s power.” Logan knew she was stating the obvious though he couldn’t help but imagine there were broken connections that were about to short out. Of course, it wasn’t like that, as the 6thgen brain was made up of DNA long-term memory and holographic quantum-state short-term; in all, quite robust. It didn’t have blood vessels that could burst, but he knew it had taken serious damage, so he didn’t expect miracles. Peering over Diaz’s shoulder, Logan could see she had made further progress with reconstructing the head and upper torso.

  “And I’ve got the voice processor working,” Diaz added proudly. Which meant the robot could talk for itself rather than through her tablet. “… and some of her facials.”

  The head, held together with strategic cuts of duct tape, was mounted upon part of the torso that, in turn, was held firmly in place by clamps inset into the worktop. The playmate was inanimate with her eyes closed.

  “You didn’t get the maintenance key, did you.”

  “No – Dorsey interrupted me,” said Logan, unwilling to explain further. “Now, can I talk to her?”

  “You’re keen. But sure, though be aware there may be chronological gaps in short-term memory. Hang on, I need to prompt the RAS component. I wanted to keep the playmate in a dormant state so there’s less chance of corrupting the last short-term transfer.”

  Logan understood. RAS was technical shorthand for Reticular Activating System. Humans had one. It regulated sleep–wake transitions.

  “So you know,” warned Logan, “Dorsey thinks the playmate’s a dead duck and you’re just trying to extract passive memories. I’ll update him later. This one’s for us.”

  “Gochya. Right, here we go, RAS is initialising …”

  They watched the eyes open. First the left, fully, and the right, partially. Diaz was a miracle worker. As little as a few hours ago Logan was witness to what he thought was a written-off pile of expensive junk.

  “Carrie?”

  The battered playmate smiled at Logan. Being woken up was a naturally happy event for a 6thgen.

  He turned to Diaz. “I thought you said she had no emotional capability?”

  “I’ve been busy. I managed to regain some of her neural functionality including basic emotion. She’s probably running on autopilot. Don’t expect too much.”

  Logan pulled up a stool and sat directly in front of the playmate. She regarded him curiously, but didn’t look right, as though she was somewhat detached from reality, much like an old fashioned 5thgen.

  “Who are you?” Carrie asked.

  “I’m Mark, and this is Diaz.”

  “What is this place … Mark?” Her eyes took in the laboratory swiftly before returning to Logan. He caught Diaz shrugging; the 6thgen had seen it earlier, so he guessed its confusion was down to the short-term problems Diaz was referring to.

  “You’re in a police station. You had a fall and you’ve been damaged. We’re trying to help you.”

  “Where is Dexy – is she safe?”

  This time Diaz nodded agreeably.

  “Dexy’s in hospital, but she’s fine,” said Logan.

  “I want to see her. Can I see her?”

  “No. Not now. But possibly soon. Carrie, I need to ask you some questions. Is that okay with you?”

  “Yes, Mark.”

  “What do you remember about last night, at the GNG Tower?”

  Carrie hesitated. “My memories are fragmented. Shall I run a diagnostic and repair?”

  Logan turned to Diaz. “What do you think?”

  “Not a good idea – not until we’ve got her maintenance key or we have her most recent engram back-ups.”

  “Agreed.” He turned back to the playmate. “Carrie, that won’t be necessary right now. Give us a level two summary of what you remember about last night and let us know where you think there’s fragmentation and inconsistencies.” Logan knew that it was a subjective exercise, but worth a try.

  “All right. And where shall I start from?”

  “When you arrived at the GNG Tower …”

  ***

  Forty-five minutes later, both Diaz and Logan were little the wiser about what had happened the previous evening. The playmate’s coverage was erratic and muddled, much of it running around in self-contradicting loops. A small number of consistent facts began to emerge, however, and Logan had written them up on a 3V whiteboard that hovered over Diaz’s desk.

  1 - Established – Grist wears an exo

  2 - Is a gynoid fetishist (Dexy right about that!)

  3 - Carrie had sex with Grist (!)

  4 - Something happened straight after – but no details, except Grist was “very angry”

  5 - Einstein was told to restrain Carrie

  6 - Carrie knows “stuff” about the Guild and Intrum – but no details (or won’t give)

  7 - Knows Dexy is Grist’s daughter – (but can’t/won’t give details)

  8 - Knows she has a long past – (but can’t/won’t give details)

  9 - Knows she climbed over balcony – of own accord

  10 - Does not remember jumping – but is sure she wouldn’t do such a thing

  After a pause he pointed at number 4 and he said to Diaz, “I’d like to know more about this.” And then to Carrie, he said, “Carrie, why did George get so angry after you had sex?”

  “During sex, I breathed on him as Dexy had instructed.”

  It wasn’t unusual for a robot to simulate breathing, especially an advanced model like Carrie. “And why did that anger him, Carrie?”

  “It made him angry – it shouldn’t have.”

  “That doesn’t make sense.”

  Diaz let out a muffled yelp, as though someone had stepped on her toes, and grabbed her tablet. “Hang on,” she said, while swiping through it wildly. “Okay … here it is.” She turned the tablet around and showed Logan. “I found this in her nasal cavity. I wondered what it was until I looked it up. It’s a pheromone diffuser. It’s supposed to enhance the sexual experience. It’s also illegal when used non-consensually. I sent it over to Alan for full spectral analysis.”

  “You’ve got the results yet?”

  “Hang on – yes – here they are.” Diaz looked confused.

  “And?”

  “This is strange. Apparently, the chemicals don’t match up with any recognisable pheromone cocktail. According to Alan, the mix is something else, it’s got pheromones plus some derivative from a borrachero tree or plant? And a known truth drug.”

  Logan iSensed for info on the tree. “It’s a Colombian tree. In the past locals extracted a zombie drug from it. Makes people do what you want. This is the refined or synthetic version ...” He trailed off, thinking about his own experience at the subway station.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Uh, nothing – but it’s starting to make se
nse. Dexy said she needed to get something from Grist, needed his cooperation.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I’ll tell you more when I’ve figured it out.”

  “So what went wrong – with Grist?”

  “Maybe the drug mix had an adverse effect – maybe he was already jacked up on something else for the night? – maybe meds. Apparently, he’s got some sort of terminal disease.”

  “That’s a lot of maybes – but could add up to a bucketful of drugs.”

  “Exactly. All right, let’s see if we can get her to open up from the point at which Einstein had restrained her.”

  Before Logan could question the 6thgen further Diaz kicked his shin under the worktop and looked pointedly over his shoulder. She reached back and touched the 3V pen. The virtual whiteboard zipped down into the worktop.

  Logan turned around. “You got to be kidding me …” he said, under his breath.

  Dorsey was framed by the lab window. He came around to the entrance and opened the door. “And when were you going to tell me you got it working?”

  “How long have you been there, detective?” asked Logan.

  “Long enough. Don’t look so surprised. I have legs. Thought I should use them. Can I come in?”

  “Yes. We’re in the process of questioning the playmate. Diaz has managed to get her to respond – but only in a limited way.”

  “Impressive. But you need to stop what you’re doing.”

  They both said, “What?”

  This time Dorsey didn’t appear angry or exasperated with Logan. Instead, he was wearing an expression that Logan couldn’t read. He wandered into the lab, looking it over as though it was a shop selling snake poison. He’d never hidden the fact that he wasn’t fond of this sort of technology and was one of those types that lamented for the good old days of simple screen-based computers and mobiles you held to your ear. While he fixated on a human-looking leg that was swinging slowly after he had reached up and touched it, he told them, “I have an update on the GNG incident that I thought you should hear first-hand. The investigation is dead in the water. The incident is closed.”