The Unincorporated War (66 page)
But Augustine knew. The battle had been called Jupiter’s Eye and J. D. Black
hadn’t even tried to capture Tully’s flagship. The raving lunatic had actually rammed the ship with her own, winning the battle, and, in an even greater injustice, somehow managed to survive unharmed. The Alliance had won the greatest victory of the war. The entire main battle fleet of the UHF had been wiped out. It didn’t matter that the Alliance hadn’t gotten a bloodless victory this time or that many in those far reaches of the belt were going to learn that someone they loved was never going to come home. None of that eased Augustine’s burden. It only made her more sad and angry.
Augustine was numb. She didn’t take part in the anti-war riots that had broken out in so many cities on Earth and in Luna. That too had been suggested to her as a means of expressing her anger and rage. But when she heard that Admiral Trang was rushing to intercept an Alliance invasion force that was shooting the core, possibly heading toward Earth, she was no longer numb; she was terrified. She didn’t care about herself, or the Earth or the war for that matter, but for her son; her youngest and last child had, she knew, been assigned to Trang’s fleet. The same qualities that made Lee such a good coach and player made him a great assault marine. He’d risen quickly to sergeant and was picked by Trang’s deadly subordinate Admiral Gupta to serve in Trang’s Fleet of the 180. Only the best got chosen and her son had fought in battle after battle in that most deadly arena of the war. But he’d survived them all to be assigned to the paradoxically safe posting within Trang’s actual battle fleet.
She knew that when Trang went into battle against Captain Cordova her son would die, maybe Trang would lose, and the war would end. At least, she thought bitterly, it would all be over. But Trang won the miraculous Battle of Mercury. Not only did he win, but he also crushed the cursed Alliance as completely as Black was used to crushing the UHF. And that hadn’t even been the miracle for Augustine. Her son, her precious, best loved, and sole remaining child, had survived the battle without a scratch. Not only had he survived, but he’d also received a commendation and been awarded the UHF Medal of Valor for refusing to abandon a wounded comrade, even though the ship Lee had rescued him from was about to explode.
When it was discovered that Lee’s father and all three of his siblings had died in the war, the press had made Lee into a public interest story. Fleet Command too had decided it wouldn’t be good if Lee died in the war, especially given his mother’s fragile mental condition. A letter was sent explaining that if Augustine was to send a request for her son to be reassigned to Earth for “humanitarian” reasons it would be expedited with the utmost speed. She filled out the form in less then five minutes and sent it in repeatedly to make sure it made it to Fleet Command.
She still remembered Lee’s response when he’d found out: outrage. He’d tried
to refuse, not wanting to leave his fellow marines. But even they betrayed him by signing a petition asking that the order be enforced. They’d insisted that he’d already done his bit
and
more and that he should get the hell out before the ass-holes in Fleet realized they were doing something decent and changed their minds. Lee had appealed all the way to Trang, who personally met the marine and refused his request in terms so clear as to make reprieve in that quarter hopeless. In desperation he’d finally appealed to his mother, asking her to rescind her request. He explained that he needed to stay with his marines. She’d written back that she was not going to allow him to risk his life anymore and he needed to come home where he’d be safe. He could yell at her all he wanted when he came home, but she was his mother and knew best. It was the last thing he ever heard from her.
The transport taking Lee home suffered a catastrophic reactor failure and was vaporized with all aboard. Augustine was informed that the death had been instant and that no one suffered, much less had time to know there was even a problem. In fact, they’d said, her son was probably asleep when it happened. The UHF had been expanding so quickly in space, building ships as fast as they could and training personnel at such a rapid pace, that it was impossible to avoid mistakes, some fatal. Augustine was not surprised to learn that the accident had not been an isolated incident, but as the number of incidents was not at a threshold to affect the outcome of the war, doctrine could not be changed. She knew what it meant. The UHF was getting more bodies to the front, even with the accidents, and so would not slow down the pace of the buildup. Augustine didn’t remember much after that. She’d been hospitalized and kept under constant watch. Afterwards she realized the hospitalization was as much to keep her from the press as it was to help her. Like a river flowing inexorably past a lonely spit of land, events of the war moved beyond her tragic story, the press sniffed blood elsewhere, and Augustine was finally given her hospital release documents.
Her corporation had mercifully given her a year’s leave with pay. Not that she needed it. She was the sole beneficiary of four separate life insurance policies and four stock liquidations. She was actually wealthy enough to buy her majority and still have enough left over to never work again, even with the inflation being caused by the war. But she didn’t bother. She’d tried going to the support group again but had been sadly amused to discover that its members were now afraid of her. In her group of wretched souls she’d become the pariah. They didn’t bar her outright, but no one sat next to her anymore and no could actually look her in the eyes when she spoke. It was almost as if she were an apparition. Augustine’s own parents were on Mars and could offer only a distant solace for grandchildren they’d never met and did not own shares in. Her brothers and sisters on Earth were afraid to associate with her for fear what ever had felled her
entire family would end up being transmitted to their own children fighting for the UHF.
It was only at the final support group meeting she’d forced herself to attend that she found something to help her deal with the pain. She sat in the back, and as usual no one sat next to her. But toward the end of the meeting a man she hadn’t seen for quite some time came up to her and offered to buy her lunch. Between appetizers and dessert he’d offered her a way out of her misery. He too had stopped coming to the meetings because he’d found his way into the virtual reality underground. He’d only waited to contact her because he wanted to make sure that she’d become safely anonymous again. She should have been mortified. It was against the five edicts of the virtual reality dictates and her painful inoculation as a child. But the horror she felt as a child was a numb and distant echo compared to the primal agony she was feeling over the loss of everyone she’d ever cared about. If what he spoke of could ease that pain, if only for a moment, she would try.
The new rigs were expensive, but money was not a problem and the new VR underground had developed ways of making payment that were undetectable. The trick was to invest in companies and corporations that declared bankruptcy soon after the investment was made. That way all anyone could be accused of was foolish investing, without any laws being broken.
All Augustine had was money. She didn’t even care if she got ripped off or it was a trap set by the police. She was a little surprised when a few weeks later a medium-sized box came to her door. Somehow she’d expected the rig to be what she’d experienced in the museum all those de cades ago, a large padded chair with a huge system that attached over her head. What she’d gotten for a sum of money that would’ve gotten three of her four children majority was a sleeping bag and a helmet. It came with written (written!) instructions she was advised to burn after memorizing.
She realized how foolish it was to assume that the technology of VR would not have changed. The rig she had used in the virtual reality museum had been based on a design centuries old. This unit promised everything the old rig had and more. The instructions told her what she needed to know. She should put on the helmet first in order to allow it to calibrate to her mind. During that time she should look at holos of the people she really wanted to meet in the virtual reality world. She should take tiny samples of the foods and drinks she liked best and listen to the music she liked and review holos of her favorite movies. All the images, tastes, and sounds would be adjusted to the VR world by the helmet. Part of her was horrified by the helmet and what it represented, but the horror only lasted for a moment and with a sigh she secured it to her head.
After the calibration was completed the instructions told her to get in the bag naked on the floor and put the helmet back on. The bag would inflate and attach
to her nervous system as well as take care of basic physiological plumbing issues. It would also provide her with enough nourishment for up to a week, but she was advised not to go that long, as the risk of discovery was too great and emptying that much waste at once might cause a building’s sanitary system to log an alert and make a record. The instructions further informed her that when she was done she would emerge from the bag clean and when it was emptied of waste and the nutrition packs refilled she should store the helmet and sleeping bag in separate locations. After she’d memorized the manual she dissolved it, got into the bag, put on the helmet, and for the first time in as long as she could remember was happy.
It wasn’t long before Augustine started spending as much time as she could in the VR rig. As she no longer reported to work and hardly anyone visited, that turned out to be quite a lot. She learned the difference between hardly and never when she almost got caught. Her sister had come over unannounced and Augustine’s apartment had been set for privacy mode. But her sister, fearing the worst, had called the cops. Augustine had by mere chance just finished a wonderful session. She emerged from the bag only to be told by her DijAssist that since she hadn’t answered the three contractually mandated requests to confirm well-being, the door was going to be forced by the police. Augustine shouted out just in time to stop the incursion and then spent the next few minutes putting away the VR rig. It was an exceptionally painful endeavor given that she had to do it with creaky, atrophied muscles. She finally got to the door, clothed only in a robe, and began berating them all for not having the decency to leave a mourning widow and mother alone. She could tell they weren’t completely convinced—even after she’d finally relented and let them in for coffee. Since they’d had no official reason to doubt her they eventually got up, left her alone, and closed the report.
That incident had frightened her enough to begin looking for a more secure venue in which to plug in and drop out. She found the answer by way of her departed son, Lee. She remembered she still had the key to his unused apartment and that the lease still had months left on it. It stood empty, and if she went there and was caught going in or out it certainly wouldn’t seem too strange, just as long as she didn’t make a habit of getting caught. If anyone came to her door while she was at her son’s apartment they’d just assume she was out, and even if they went in, all they’d find was an empty apartment with a list of errands to run on the daily log. As a last mea sure she applied for and got majority. Not that any investor would have compelled her to take a job anywhere, given her grieving war widow status, but she felt the more control she had over her own portfolio the less likely anyone would be to bother her. So far it had worked and she was able to spend up to three days at a time with her “family” without being disturbed.
Part of her knew how useless and pathetic an exercise it all was, but she didn’t care. While she was in VR she could almost forget.
She made one last check to make sure the corridor was clear and then went to Lee’s apartment. It didn’t take her long to get the VR helmet and bag set up and leave a world that had nothing for her for a world that had everything.
Al couldn’t appear at the site of Operation Dry Dock, as it was far too close to the upper Neuro. Instead he appeared at its edge and waited for a guide to come and escort him. The guide was not an Al, as Al did not like the upper Neuro either, having divorced himself from the world of humanity. Before the war there were billions of avatars who traveled to the upper Neuro all the time to interact with their humans. But that didn’t happen much anymore. Except at the Beanstalk and the government complex on Mars there were very few humans who dealt with an actual avatar anymore. As in the Alliance, the humans were actually dealing with avatar-mimicking programs. Of course the reason for that in the core was that Al, as a temporary security mea sure, had banned human–avatar contact except with case-by-case permission. As a result, the upper Neuro was now exclusively being used by guides and scouts. These were avatars who had a proven level of loyalty or whom Al had enough of a hold on that he could trust them to not betray him. And besides, even if one did, he’d always be avenged by Al. It wouldn’t be the first time Al had been killed by the disloyal. But the assassins and all they cared about would be eliminated in ways both permanent and mortifying as Al grew ever stronger.
The guide took him to the very limit of the upper Neuro, turned him over to the scout, and then left without saying a word. Two avatars could cause alot of detectable activity, three would certainly be too many. Al looked at the dry dock the scout had constructed. It was actually a series of programs that sequestered an area of the upper Neuro and rerouted all information traffic around it. The elaborate programming enabled a part of the upper Neuro to effectively become part of the lower Neuro. When he was finally in the dry dock Al relaxed. He missed Al but would see them soon enough and would be able to share something truly unique.
“Has the subject entered VR?” asked Al.
