AntiBio: A Post Apocalyptic Thriller (3 page)

6

As soon as Blaze leaves
Jersey’s building, a voice pops into his ear.

“Good morning, Sergeant Crouch,” Worm says.

“Good morning, Worm,” Blaze replies. “How deep is the shit I’m in today?”

“You were not present for a tower wide alert,” Worm says. “Lieutenant Lane is not pleased with that.”

“Have you already reported my location to him?” Blaze asks, tucking his hands into the pockets of his pants as he makes his way down the sparsely populated street, careful not to make contact with any of the other pedestrians in case they don’t have their StatShields active. A slight mist wets his clothes and skin as the manufactured precipitation falls from above.

Blaze looks about at the rough area of Caldicott City the civvies call the Burn because of the amount of soldering home jobs that have been assigned
to the citizens that live there. Shit work that doesn’t pay much, but like Jersey’s loft, you get some space to yourself in order to store enough parts and do the jobs properly.

Unlike the rest of Caldicott City
, which is smooth metal and soft curves, the Burn is blocky structures, many looking like they were old before the Unseen Wars. Half way down the block an old woman mutters to herself, propped up against a Caldicott City incinerator bin. She’s busy tearing something apart, laughing as she tosses each bit into the incinerator.

Blaze shakes his head and keeps moving; he can’t draw too much attention. A man built like him –all deadly muscles and health- can bring the wrong element quickly, hoping to roll him for something they can sell for a cup of home cooked stim.

“Worm? I lose you, buddy?” Blaze asks.

“No, Sergeant,” Worm replies. “I was double checking my log notations for you. Ms. Cale’s device is working at optimum levels and keeping your location o
ff the logs.”

Blaze fingers the medallion around his neck.
“And you haven’t reported me off the rez?”

“If by off the rez, you mean off GenSOF tower premises, then no, Sergeant, I have not.”

“I appreciate that,” Blaze says. “Thanks for having my back.”

“It is my duty to look after the wellbeing of all ope
rators in Zebra squad, Sergeant,” Worm says. “Even if that means breaking protocol. Your irrational desire to put the general population at risk by leaving the GenSOF tower is troubling, but as I cannot stop you, I see no reason to destroy your career. You are a remarkable operator and Caldicott City and the Clean Nation is better for having you. Although I must remind you that one mistake and you could spread the bacteria within you and cause an outbreak citywide. The number of deaths would be quite unfortunate.”

“I’m careful,” Blaze says, nodding to a woman that is frowning at
him since only people that talk to themselves are either crazy or jumped up on stim. “And being in love is hardly irrational.”

“There are millions of plays, movies, video programs, and books that would argue against that,” Worm replies. “But since visiting Ms. Cale does seem to have a lasting positive physical, emotional, and psychological effect on you, I would be remiss in debating your point of view.”

“See,” Blaze grins. “It’s like I’ve always said, love is the best medicine.”

“That is far from medically accurate,” Worm replies.
“But the effects are beneficial to you, so I allow your excursions to go unreported.”

Blaze laughs out loud and a man coming towards him picks that moment to cross the street.

While all citizens of genpop receive personal sat chips, only GenSOF operators, and their bug hounds, are equipped with interfaces with the AiSP system and squad specific personalities like Worm. Another bonus is the IRIS system implanted within each operator’s eyes allowing them full video access to everything that can be streamed.

“I have
StatMisted Ms. Cale’s loft, just to be sure your bacteria does not stay present,” Worm says. “She was startled, but I had an alert sent to her vid screen in time so she could secure her breathing mask in place.”

“Good thinking,” Blaze replies then stops as he gets to the corner of the street. He looks up and down the street then frowns. “Worm? Where are the trolleys?”

“TransPod trolley activity has been suspended in this area until the unrest is fully contained,” Worm replies.

“IRIS up, Worm,” Blaze orders. “Show me the scoop.”

Blaze’s eyes go completely black and he watches as various news feeds flit across his vision. He subconsciously pats his pockets, hoping to find a static stunner, or at the least his static blade, but he’s unarmed as always when he goes AWOL from GenSOF tower.

“Can you plot routes for me, Worm? Looks like I’m walking
until I can hit a trolley line. I’d like to avoid any of the crowds.”

The screen in Blaze’s right eye disappears while the left one shows a map of Caldicott City with various routes highlighted. One by
one, the routes wink out and disappear, leaving only a neon pink line.

“That’ll get me past the civvies?” Blaze asks.

“It is the route that will expose the least amount of the general population to you,” Worm replies. “Unfortunately the unrest is widespread and there is no clear route from here back to the next operational TransPod trolley line.”

“Great,” Blaze says. “Automatically activate my StatShield if I get too close
to anyone, okay?”

Worm doesn’t respond.

“Worm? What’s up with the pauses, man?”

“I advise against that strategy, Sergeant Crouch,” Worm replies
as if Blaze hasn’t said anything. “The damage it will do to your bacterial load balance is not advised.”

“How’s that?” Blaze asks. “What damage? Since when does a StatShield-”

“My apologies, Sergeant Crouch,” Worm responds quickly. “Since you are not at GenSOF tower, I cannot issue you your nutritional requirements. Your bacterial load is currently weaker than it should be and I would prefer not to weaken it further.”

“Weak?” Blaze asks. “That’s not good. Does that mean I need a culture boost when we get back to the tower?”

“I am not gone from the tower, Sergeant,” Worm responds. “But, yes, you will need a culture boost.”

“
Great,” Blaze says. “So let’s pray to the Static God that this one doesn’t give me the shits like the last one.”

“The Static God is not a scientific-” Worm begins.

“Can it,” Blaze snaps. “Let me have my superstitions, okay? My mom raised me to praise the Static God. Are you saying my mom was wrong?”

There is silence for several moments.

“This is one of your word traps, is it not?” Worm finally asks.

“Good catch, Worm,” Blaze smiles. “You’re learning.”

“I am always learning, Sergeant,” Worm replies. “I can absorb and assimilate over 10,000 geobytes of data per millisecond.”

“Yet you still had to pause to figure out I was messing with you,” Blaze grins.

“Absorption and assimilation are not the same as understanding, Sergeant,” Worm replies. “That is one aspect of the human brain that will always be faster than artificial intelligence.”

“Does that bother you, Worm?” Blaze asks. “I think I heard a hint of irritation in your voice.”

“Irritation would be a result of emotion,” Worm replies. “While not a human singularity, emotions are reserved for living organisms.”

“Give it time,” Blaze says. “One day you’ll get there and then you’ll know why I ditch the tower whenever I can.”

“I do enjoy experiencing your excursions,” Worm says.

“Enjoy? That sounds like an emotion right there, buddy.”

“It is merely a heightened state of interest,” Worm replies. “I used the word ‘enjoy’ since it is the closest analog to my data processing experience.”

“Call it what you want, man,” Blaze shrugs.

He walks a couple blocks, following the route laid out for him in his left IRIS. The mist raining down starts to grow stronger and Blaze turns up the collar of the thick work shirt he wears when he escapes into the genpop. It’s an old shirt, one his mother said had belonged to his father before the man succumbed to a virulent strain of tetanus that broke out in the factory where he’d worked. After that outbreak, all factories were shuttered then scorched, forcing manufacturing into citizens’ homes, apartments, condos, and lofts in the Burn. Just like Jersey’s.

“Do you think it will happen one day, Sergeant?” Worm asks, interrupting Blaze’s thoughts. Which he is glad for since thinking about his Pops always puts him in a melancholy mood. And after the night, and morning he
has had, he doesn’t want melancholy to ruin the Jersey buzz he’s still floating on. It’d be a waste of a good escape.

“What will happen?” Blaze asks.

“That I’ll achieve emotional singularity, just like humans and Canine Units,” Worm replies.

“That’s up to you, Worm,” Blaze says.

“I do not believe that,” Worm says. “I am programmed. There is very little up to me.”

“Well, when you stop believing that bullshit then you’ll have taken your first step onto the path of emotional immaturity,” Blaze chuckles. “I’ll be the first one to buy you a drink when you get there.”

“As I have stated before, Sergeant, I cannot-” Worm starts.

“Shut up, Worm,” Blaze laughs. “Just watch my back while I try to avoid the civvies, okay?”

7

The route constantly shifts in Blaze’s eye, forcing him to backtrack over and over. He wishes he had Gorge with him; she has an instinct for picking stealth routes.

Then the IRIS winks out and Blaze freezes.

“Worm?” he asks. “Why’d you shut it down?”

There is no response.

“Worm?” Blaze asks again, very aware of the noise coming from the next block. “Buddy, don’t leave me hanging.”

Still no response.

Blaze presses the spot on his wrist where his PSC is embedded. A slight tingle travels up his arm to his shoulder and then neck, telling him the chip is active, just not responding. He looks up into the ever increasing rain, wondering who the hell decided Caldicott City needed a downpour. If he ever meets that asshole in the Municipal Weather Department he’ll junk punch him into next Wednesday. Nobody likes a hard rain in the CC.

“Worm?” Blaze tries again then gives up, letting go of his wrist. He frowns and looks down the street. “Must be jammed.”

There’s a scream and several shouts from the next corner and Blaze ducks into an alcove. He presses into the shadows, hoping no one in the building is watching their secfeed. Last thing he needs is some paranoid civvie calling CCPD on his ass for “suspicious activity.”

That wouldn’t go over well with GenSOF command.

The scream gets louder and a woman sprints past his hiding spot, a small crowd close on her tail. From her dress, and the strong glow of her StatShield, Blaze guesses a privileged trust funder just found out the downside of slumming it.

“Give the bitch the Pox!” one of the civvies shouts. “Stupid rich cunt thinking she can go where she wants!”

Blaze sighs and shakes his head at the misnomer so many in genpop make. He hates the term “Pox”; it shows a deadly scientific ignorance since every “pox” in history has been a virus, not a bacteria. Not that a person can do much against a virus, but that’s not what brought the world to its knees.

Antibiotic resistant bacteria did.

Blaze counts eight men and women in the crowd that chase after the unfortunate woman.

“Worm?” he tries one more time.

When there’s still no response he steps from the shadows and starts walking after the crowd. He doesn’t run, but walks, making sure he doesn’t draw attention to himself. He has no idea if the angry crowd is solo or part of a larger mob that may just be a corner’s turn behind him.

As he expects, it doesn’t take long before the woman stumbles and goes sliding along the wet pavement. The crowd is on her in seconds, yanking her to her feet, encircling her, shoving her back and forth from person to person, screaming into her face, ignoring her pleas and tears.
Rain streams down their faces, sending lines of clean through the grime. Their screaming mouths reveal less than ideal dental hygiene and Blaze almost laughs as the woman seems to shrink away more from that than any fear of violence. After all, the mouth is a bacterial wasteland; the Sicklands of the human body.

“Bitch wants us to let her go,” a man says, all wrinkled clothes and scabby skin. “Says we aren’t clean and fit for more free movement credits.”

“Looks like we’re moving free now, right Splotch?” a young girl says, spitting into the woman’s face.

A blue flash of light erupts across the frightened woman’s body as the saliva is incinerated before it can penetrate her StatShield. Even though she isn’t touched by the spit, she still cries out in alarm, her eyes wide with panic.

“No, no, no,” the woman says. “I didn’t say anything. Honest, I didn’t.” She holds out her clutch. “Just take it. There’s some Gooey Bars in there. Fresh this morning. They’ll keep you fed for a week or two.”

“Fuck your Gooey Bars,” the man snaps, grabbing the clutch from her and tossing it into the gutter. “You think we can’t get our own, bitch? You think because we live in the Burn that we’re just a bunch of starving civvies?”

“I’m civvie too,” the woman says, her body shaking. “I’m part of the genpop. Just like you. Please. Please let me go. I didn’t mean to offend you.”

The young girl
, her StatShield a pale and flickering comparison to the frightened woman’s, pushes up against her and grabs her between the legs. Sparks fly as the two StatShields collide, not meant to be pressed so roughly together.

“Just having your smelly cunt in our block is you offending us,” the girl sneers. She squeezes and the woman screams. “What? That hurt? Maybe your StatShield needs maintenance. You getting shocked or what?”

“Stop!” the woman yells and shoves the girl away.

Suddenly she has a small, metal cylinder in her fist. She slams it between her hands and a shockwave shoots out, knocking everyone, including herself, to the ground.

The crowd all roll on the ground, twitching as static surges course across their skin. The effect isn’t lethal, just very unpleasant.

“That was not a good use of Cleaner,” Blaze says as he activates his StatShield and walks up to the woman, offering her his hand
. “It knocked your StatShield out too.”

The woman looks at Blaze’s hand then at the crowd. He follows her gaze and frowns.

“They’re getting up,” Blaze says. “And they look pissed. I can get you out of here and over to the next trolley.”

“I don’t know you,” the woman says, scooting back until her butt hits the curb
, dirty rainwater swirling around her, trying to continue its journey through the gutter. “I don’t know where you’ve been.”

Blaze smacks his chest, sending blue ripples of light across his body. “My shield can’t be knocked out by an over the
counter Cleaner. Even one as high end as yours. That had a decent range on it, but you used it close quarters. Total waste.”

The woman just stares.

“You okay, lady?” Blaze asks. Then realizes why she’s freaked. “Oh, right. My face.” He taps his left cheek and the patch of pale skin mixed against the tanned area surrounding it. “I’m not Burn trash hooked on stim, if that’s what you think.”

“Hey!” Splotch shouts from behind Blaze as the man gets to his feet. “Who the fuck you calling trash?”

“If the bin fits, right?” Blaze asks, turning on the man. He just gets a puzzled look at the comment. “It’s a joke. You know? Trash bin? Never mind.”

“You tryin’ to pretend to be GenSOF, that it?” the girl asks, ignoring the piss stain spreading across her crotch caused by the sudden static shock to her system. “GenSOF can’t leave the tower. Everyone knows that.
They could infect us all with that super shit those freaks carry.”

“Then you should probably run,” Blaze smiles, his fingers to his wrist. “Because if I drop my StatShield, you’ll all be exposed.”

“Bullshit,” Splotch says. “You’re bluffing.”

“He ain’t bluffing because he’s not GenSOF,” the girl sneers.

“Yeah, you ain’t bluffing because you b
e
lyin
g
,” Splotch nods.

He puffs out his chest and looks at the rest of the crowd for confirmation. He doesn’t find it as most of them are already backing away, none wanting anything to do with a possible rogue operator. Splotch’s bravado deflates slightly, but he tries to keep up the act as he steps towards Blaze.

“I ain’t afraid of you, freak,” he snarls.

Blaze presses his wrist and a quick sizzle is heard as the StatShield powers down.

“Come here and give me a kiss, tough guy,” Blaze says, taking a step towards Splotch.

One step is all that’s needed. The man turns tail and sprints after the crowd that is already retreating down the block. The girl stands there a second longer, but finally decides it’s not worth the risk. Blaze watches them for a minute then laughs. He presses his wrist again and the shield powers back up.

“Come on,” Blaze says as he turns to the woman. “Let’s get you out of…here…”

She’s gone.

Blaze looks up and down the street, but doesn’t see her anywhere. He sighs and starts to walk away, hoping to find a TransPod trolley soon as he’s wasted too much time in genpop already and knows he probably has a serious ass reaming waiting for him when he gets back to the tower. But he stops quickly, a burning at his chest forcing him to turn off his StatShield and rip at his shirt.

Hot to the touch, the medallion is smoking, sending tendrils up into the wet air
. Blaze puts it to his lips and blows on it, praying it will cool down and stay operative.

“If you take your next left you will find a TransPod station that has come back online,” Worm says.
“The riot is under control and Caldicott City Police have reestablished some of the trolley lines.”

“There you are!” Blaze exclaims, letting the
medallion fall back to his chest. “Where the hell have you been?”

“The riots have created static anomalies throughout the city,” Worm explains. “Satellite signals are being affected intermittently.”

“Well, good to hear your voice,” Blaze responds. “Did you catch any of my fun back there?”

“I did not,” Worm says. “But I will scan area secfeeds to see if it was captured on video.” It takes less than a second. “Oh.”

“Oh? That’s a very unWorm response,” Blaze says as he turns a corner and sees the row of TransPods sitting at the edge of the sidewalk, the occupied ones waiting to be picked up by a trolley. He’s in luck and three are still empty. “What’s up with the oh?”

“The woman you attempted to assist is the daughter of a member of the council,” Worm says. “This could be problematic.”

“I saved her ass,” Blaze says as he waves his wrist across the sensor set into the glass of one of the TransPods. A thick StatMist fills the pod, performing a secondary sterilization procedure, before it splits open. Blaze waves away the mist and he steps inside. The TransPod seals back up, encasing him in high impact plastiglass. “What’s problematic with that?”

“Her mother is Councilwoman Haggerty,” Worm replies.

“Oh,” Blaze says. “That is problematic.”

A trolley pulls up to the row of TransPods and
a large metal arm moves systematically down the line of pods, lifting the plastiglass containers onto the trolley one by one. As it speeds off down the street, Blaze turns and nods at the woman in the pod next to his. She starts to nod back then sees the look of his skin, and the burn mark showing through his shirt, and stops. Despite the fact, there are several inches of virtually impenetrable high impact plastiglass between them, the woman moves to the far side of her pod, her eyes wary and scared.

“Worm?” Blaze asks, used to the shun. “Has news reached the tower yet?”

“Yes, Sergeant,” Worm responds. “The Councilwoman is contacting command right now about a possible GenSOF operator going rogue.”

“You can wipe my trail clean, right Worm?” Blaze asks. “Worm? Right?”

“I already have, Sergeant,” Worm replies “There will be no log of you on the secfeeds nor in the TransPod records.”

“Thanks, man.”

“But there is a troubling data spike that I cannot quite track and get to.”

“And that is?”

“Ms. Cole’s device may have stopped working for a brief moment. If that is the case then your PSC may have logged your location while I was offline dealing with the static anomalies.”

“Oh,” Blaze says.

“Yes. Oh, indeed.”