The memory deck looked more like a dentist’s chair than a VR set-up. Mikah assured Rebecca that entering a memory was almost the same as going full-immersion in a VR server, though some people found the sensation of re-living a memory, being present in your own mind without actually having control over your body, to be a little unnerving.
‘It’s just like watching a movie,’ said Mikah as he hooked her up to some nodes and wires.
Bec watched Mikah, a little impatiently, as he tapped away on a keyboard, humming and mumbling to himself. The hairs on Bec’s arms stood up and she tried not to look nervous but couldn’t seem to stop her hands from fidgeting. She trusted Mikah. She’d used VRs dozens of times before. This wouldn’t be too different.
It’s just like watching a movie.
Mikah rolled a chair over and sat down, ready to explain what was about to happen:
‘Unfortunately, we can’t jump directly to the memory you want to recover. My computers need data, some sort of context needs to be established first. Normally memories aren’t linear – they’re scrambled, tied down by sensations such as certain smells or feelings. The computer—’ he pointed at the set-up behind him, ‘—is going to put everything in order for you as best it can, but I need you to think of what you were doing before the memory occurred, as much detail as possible, step-by-step. Can you do that?’
Bec nodded, beginning to feel like a test subject strapped down by wires as Mikah returned to his terminal.
‘I spent most the night working,’ she began, closing her eyes and trying to recount the details. ‘Zef gave me a call…’ a stab of grief as she recalled his face. ‘He told me to shut Mercy down, you know, my alias at the time?’ Mikah’s head bobbed up and down but his eyes remained fixed on the terminal. ‘He told me to get to Pegasus right away,’ Bec went on. ‘And then… I left for Pegasus. There was a party in the street nearby.’
‘What did you wear when you went out that night?’ Mikah’s voice was low, almost therapeutic.
‘I don’t know,’ Bec shrugged, ‘my usual outfit, I guess.’
‘Try to think specifics – colours, perfume…’
‘Since when do I wear perfume? Okay fine, um… I wore my old jeans, the grey ones, ripped. My black leather jacket… A white t-shirt, I think?’
‘Try and be certain.’
‘It was.’ Bec nodded.
Mikah was still typing rapidly on the terminal. ‘Okay, I have enough to pin-point the start of the memory. In a second, you’re gonna go under. Close your eyes. Try to relax…’
The bass rolled like thunder through Rebecca’s body as she stepped through the doors of Pegasus. She looked around and brushed her hair out of her eyes. She removed her jacket. Neon and cigarettes filled the air. Vex was working tonight, her body glitter sparkling as she danced. They made eye-contact and Rebecca winked at her.
Zef sat alone at his usual corner booth. Rebecca went over, sat across from him.
‘Rebecca,’ he said. ‘You’re late.’
She shrugged. ‘Yeah, well, I’m here now.’
‘Come.’
Zef stood up and led her to one of the rooms behind the stage. On the neatly made bed was a VR Immersion device. Bec understood. Zef was never one to waste words. A click as the door closed behind her and she stood in the quiet perfume-smelling room, the music outside nothing more than vibrations through the floor. She sat on the bed. Fitted the device around her ear and attached the receptors to the back of her skull. She laid down. Closed her eyes. Exhaled softly.
Through the dark caverns of her subconscious came a muffled sound like wind howling against a brick wall. She was inside the Construct, a loading screen for programs waiting to enter their specified server. Each person has a different Construct. For Rebecca, it was an endless stone chamber, dark, except for the golden light that faded to life beneath every step, and the pieces of code that drifted through the void, ghosts of unwritten programs.
The Construct re-formed. Pixels darted from the nothingness of cyberspace and merged into a collection of un-rendered images. In a sweeping wave of light Rebecca was thrown onto a street corner in Tokyo. She blinked a few times and looked around. Japanese street signs glowed all around through the hazy raining night and people crossed the roads in a torrent of suits and clear plastic umbrellas. She held out her hand and let the rain drops roll off her skin. Her wet clothes stuck uncomfortably to her body, a frightfully realistic sensation. Her virtual-self had little control in this world. None of the inhabitants gave her a second glance.
Then the rain froze, as if someone had pressed pause on reality, droplets of water floating in the air, sparkling with light. The glitch caused a pedestrian to pixelate and zip backwards; he went on walking as if nothing had happened. Zef manifested next to Rebecca.
‘Come on,’ said Zef, ‘he’s this way.’
Rebecca followed Zef into an alley. They walked past a line of motorbikes. Steam bellowed from a nearby noodle shop. The roar of an engine overhead and a sudden gust of turbulence as a hover car drifted past and disappeared behind a skyscraper. A group of Japanese men wearing illuminated glass visors watched Rebecca and Zef as they moved further through the alley.
‘Are they real?’ asked Bec.
‘Programs,’ Zef replied. ‘Our client owns this server. All the programs here belong to him.’
‘It all seems so real. The feeling....’ Rebecca couldn’t shake the dense aroma of noodles, gasoline and rainwater. ‘I’ve never seen anything like this.’
They entered a building, went up a flight of stairs.
‘Be careful what you say to him,’ Zef cautioned. ‘He’s one of the Tokumei....’
Bec wasn’t surprised. Tokumei was a name allocated to Japan’s most dangerous hackers. That information narrowed his identity down to one of fifteen.
‘Yakuza?’ she asked.
‘He belongs to a group called the Akutō. Real shadowy types. Techno-Anarchists.’
‘Why am I here?’
‘This morning the Akutō reached out to the Syndicate with a request for some new builders. If I had to guess, I’d say one of them got wind of your little projects. If you’re looking for work, these are the guys to go to.”
Rebecca realised where this was going. She had a good feeling she was about to make a lot of money. They entered a room where several men and women sat around a large wooden table. Rebecca couldn’t see who they were – their faces heavily pixelated, like something censored on TV. The group were in the middle of an avid conversation. They paused and looked at Rebecca as she approached, Zef standing by her side.
‘Is this the one?’ a man asked Zef, in a deep distorted voice. ‘Is this Mercy?’
‘Yes,’ Zef replied, bowing slightly. ‘As arranged.’
He gestured for Rebecca to step forward.
Bec didn’t know if she should bow. She knew that people in Japan bowed when they greeted each other, but she didn’t know how. She stood up straight. It was worse that she couldn’t read their faces, seeing only the censored blur. She shifted uncomfortably.
‘Mercy,’ one of the men began. ‘You’re wondering why you can’t see our faces.’
‘Actually, I figured that much out myself,’ said Bec. ‘It’s best to remain anonymous in our line of work.’
‘Even more so for the exploits of my associates and I,’ the man agreed. ‘You’ve made quite a name for yourself. We’ve been watching you. We understand you are a talented software designer – especially when it comes to technology of somewhat malicious intent. Our proposition to you is simple: we want you to work for us.’
Rebecca hesitated, cautiously glanced at each censored face and said, ‘I’m not too pleased you found out about me so easily. I’ll consider working for you, though my services don’t come cheap.’
‘We only pay for the best, and you are one of the best,’ said the Akutō man. ‘Your work will have to be of the highest standard.’
‘Exactly what standard are you looking for?’
A red holoprojected interface appeared in front of the man.
‘I will send you the parameters.’
In the newer models of VR Immersion devices, a user could transfer data directly to their long-term memory. The information flowed like a stream of data into Bec’s mind and she blinked rapidly, the transfer left a warm fuzzy sensation in the back of her skull.
‘AI,’ said Bec, then she realised she was wrong. ‘No, this is something else.’
‘Can you comply?’ said the Akutō man.
Rebecca nodded. It wouldn’t be easy, but it was technically possible. Technically.
‘I’ll get it done.’
The man exchanged a look with the others at the table, then said to Rebecca, ‘Good. Then I wish you luck.’
Searing white light penetrated Rebecca’s eyes. She sat up and massaged them but the deep ache beneath refused to go away. Her stomach turned, that acidic taste, and vomit threatened to rise into her throat. She held it down. A gentle hand placed on her forehead encouraged her to lay down.
‘Easy…’ Mikah’s voice emanated from somewhere. ‘Your mind was just pulled from a dark server inside a recovered memory. I should have mentioned how unpleasant that can feel.’
Her stomach turned again. Bec rolled over and barfed, the vomit spilled into the floor. Mikah let out a sigh and patted her on the back.
‘That’s it, let it out. Talk about motion sickness, hey?’
It took fifteen minutes of laying down on the couch at the back of the workshop for Bec to recover. In the meantime, Mikah worked on unscrambling the censored faces and voices. He left the program running and sat down near Rebecca, who was now able to look at the ceiling without feeling like she was swaying through the air. As she laid there, she constantly thought about why she had even taken that job, and why she never considered what exactly it was she’d be doing for them.
It’s just another job, she told herself for what felt like the fiftieth time.
She said to Mikah, ‘Heard anything from Jackie, lately?’
‘Since she moved to London? No, I’ve barely heard anything.’
‘She was always the smart one, wasn’t she?’ Bec sighed.
What she wouldn’t give to see her old friend again. Maybe once this was all over…
An alert sounded from Mikah’s console and he stood up.
‘It’s ready. C’mon.’
Mikah took Bec’s hand and helped her up, her walk still wobbly as she shuffled over to the terminal. Then Mikah punched a few keys – ‘And… voilà!’
They stared at a video feed, recorded as if by Rebecca’s very own eyes. The screen flickered for every blink, and the camera darted from face to face. Bec may have been impressed if she wasn’t so surprised.
‘Well, fuck,’ she said.
‘What is it? Do you know them?’
And Bec pointed to the centre man, the Akutō who had done all the talking.
‘Him, I’ve seen him before.’
The face belonged to Hiroshi Inue, she had seen the image during her mission briefing, Jean Fey had shown her.
‘He’s supposed to be dead.’
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