The Lucid - Season One: The Beginning Read online

  Adam slowed down and watched the UVF pull into the road. As it sped up, he threw the truck in reverse and slammed his foot down on the gas pedal. The truck lurched and skidded backwards, but Adam maintained control. The UVF adjusted for the sudden change in direction of Adam’s truck, and stopped.

  Dead-center in the lane, just as the oncoming car caught up to them.

  Adam felt the sudden impact of the collision, and watched the world spin as the truck lurched forward from the translated force.

  None of his family made a sound.

  Adam felt weightless for a brief moment as the momentum first threw him forward before gravity reasserted itself and pulled him back. The truck had spun from the impact, and it came to a stop facing the collision. He could see the driver of the other car hunched over their steering wheel, a deployed airbag spilling like foam in every direction. Adam felt a pang of regret, and almost unbuckled his seat belt, his instinct telling him to go help the man. Then he saw the UVF.

  Adam’s back bumper had really done a number to the front end of the UVF, and the back of it had been completely crushed by the impact from the other vehicle. It was disabled.

  The camera on the car’s roof, however, was spinning, taking video footage of the scene for later examination.

  Adam glared at it for a second, as if looking into the eyes of the beast that was pursuing him, before pulling the truck around and continuing his getaway.

  FOUR

  “I saw that,” David said, his voice quiet, and filled with a sort of awe. Mister Bolland was going to be interesting.

  David liked interesting.

  Oh, not as much as order and structure, which were always preferred. But interesting represented a problem to solve, and David very much enjoyed solving problems. He enjoyed obliterating problems.

  “Track that vehicle. Route camera data to my personal server. Start the negotiation with the satellite servers in D.C. Not the NSA servers; we’ll need to be more circumspect than that.” He thought for a moment. “Access the NOAA servers. Use my access information.”

  “Working,” the AI said.

  David watched as one of the displays streamed data and images. Occasionally he’d see something he thought might be interesting, but he was forced to let it go until the AI was finished with its search and retrieval. As smart as the system was, it could be incredibly frustrating when it wasn’t smart enough.

  This would be so much easier if my hands worked, David thought.

  It wasn’t the first time he’d thought this, of course. Since the accident, he’d been a full quadriplegic, unable to move his arms or legs. He had been doomed to a bed in a hospital room, thanks to one inattentive misstep into traffic. The car that hit him belonged to a man named Steven Parker. He had cried, at his hearing. David had watched it on video, and felt nothing.

  In fact, feeling nothing was become a theme for David’s life. He couldn’t feel his arms or his legs. He couldn’t feel anything at all, from the chin down. In addition, his lungs weren’t working properly, and the only thing keeping oxygen flowing was the negative air pressure and high oxygen content of the mobile command center’s interior. In effect, David now lived inside his lungs, instead of the other way around.

  Those days spent in the hospital, laying prone in a bed with a trachea tube and a number of wires and feeding tubes keeping him alive, forced him to conclude that was now worthless as a human being. His brilliant mind was caught in amber. He would never contribute anything of value to the world again, he had come to believe.

  But David had friends. Powerful friends. He had been working with them for the past few years on the creation of the same artificial intelligence system that was now running the UFVs and other automated security systems here in Colorado Springs and various other parts of the country. Those same AI systems kept the mobile command unit running, and saw to his every need. They also connected him in real time to every other AI system, as well as the vast network of satellites and nodes that supplied information and acted as a nervous system for modern civilization.

  As a result, then, David had become part of the ecosystem that kept terrorists at bay and kept citizens from getting out of hand with their “freedoms.” He was a central part of a living, breathing digital entity—the cerebral cortex providing higher order processing for the brain that controlled the modern world.

  At the time of his accident, he had been assisting with another program, as well. One that was less about circuits and digital technology, and more about the circuitry of the human mind. Specifically, he had been tapped to help with finding a solution to an ever-growing problem. Humanity, it seemed, was being rewritten. His approach to artificial intelligence could provide a key to salvation.

  It was fascinating, actually, how well the new research fit with David’s own AI research. In the end, it really all came down to inputs and outputs, directives and logic structures. As humanity and artificial intelligence began to edge closer, to converge on a common point of intelligence, David’s work had become a crucial component.

  David had been thoroughly engrossed in this when he’d lost the use of his body. He had been reading through dozens of reports, mostly responses to his latest findings, flicking through screens on his phone as he stepped out into traffic, unaware of Steven Parker or his SUV. Unaware that his life would change in painful and horrific ways, only to allow him a rebirth into a new and immensely satisfying world.

  Thank goodness for the mobile command center. It became his body, after the accident. It was perfectly tuned to him, supplying all of his physical needs, including electro-stimulation of his muscles. It fed him and eliminated his waste. It ensured his oxygen levels remained at peak. And, above all, it gave him mobility.

  True, it was a big and bulky machine that couldn’t go just anywhere. But David’s mobility went beyond physical locations. Thanks to the AI he helped develop, the MCU could connect him to just about any database on the planet, and give him access to a vast variety of security and data systems.

  In many ways, “losing” his body had freed him, made him a being of pure intelligence and data. He could focus on those things that truly mattered, and let his physical needs be taken care of without being a distraction.

  Plus, he was pretty well armed. The MCU had its own defense system, which could just as easily be an offense system. It made David feel a little “badass” to know he commanded some hefty firepower. And it made him feel very secure to know that he was surrounded in armor plating.

  Clearly his employers had something in mind, and David would be something of an enforcer in those plans. So instead of being weakened by his accident, David had become stronger by far than any other human. His brains were now matched by his brawn. It made him smile.

  His employers saw great potential in him. They empowered him, and set him loose. He was given directives, to use his insights and algorithms to find answers, to find solutions. To find men like Adam Bolland.

  David used the eye-scanning interface of the MCU to bring up Adam’s profile and history. There were a few hours of interviews in the file, which was standard. Each video was accompanied by a stream of data on the right-hand side of the screen, showing heart rate, heat signature, flags for vocal hesitation, data from galvanic skin response.

  His DNA provided some frustration. Clearly there was some trait within Bolland’s genes that provided an immunity or resistance. He was one of many with that trait, but few seemed as completely unfazed by the heavy metal as Bolland was. As such, the chemical programming was having no effect on his physiology whatsoever. And that was the frustrating part—because none of the highly paid and lauded researchers and geneticists employed by Mrs. Halpern or any of David’s employers could determine exactly why Adam was different. For all intents and purposes, it might as well be magic.

  Bolland was pretty unremarkable all around, actually. He had received his undergraduates degree in organic chemistry from the Colorado School of Mines, and had immediately pursued a
chemical engineering graduate degree. He had worked at a petroleum processing plant while in college, and upon leaving had transitioned between various jobs in the industry. He finally became an employee of the Colorado Springs Water Treatment facility, as chemical engineers became a commodity in the wake of various environmental acts. He had landed his position just prior to his thirtieth birthday, and had managed to climb the ladder until he was in a management role.

  And until yesterday, that was his entire, pathetic life.

  There were some indicators in his file that he had some financial trouble. His youngest daughter, Sarah, had been diagnosed with Turner’s Syndrome, and they had struggled a great deal to pay medical bills while seeking treatment for her. That was a likely motivation behind Bolland’s success in his current job.

  The debt had been a minor red flag. People with large debt posed a security risk because they could be easily compromised. The enemy offers large sums of money for one small task, and the indebted sad sack betrays his country to get away from the pressures of paying a monthly credit card bill or the loan on a boat or something.

  But Bolland’s debt was manageable, as long as Adam remained employed. In fact, they were making the climb toward being free of the medical bills. Bolland was diligent.

  So money was not a motivation. That left only altruism.

  Somehow Bolland had figured out what the chemical could do—or thought he had. It was unlikely that Bolland would have the background to understand the nature of chemical organic programming. The greater likelihood was that Bolland had simply put a few things together, coming up with a distorted amalgam of the truth, in which the sinister “government” had enacted some plan to enslave the populace through better chemistry.

  Close, but no cigar, David thought, smiling.

  Bolland’s file did suggest a tendency to “do the right thing.” He would certainly risk his job, if he thought his employer was doing something illegal or dangerous to the public. He would risk everything, in fact, if he thought his family was being placed in danger by some nefarious plot. That would certainly be a trigger for an otherwise complacent man to suddenly dive into foolishly heroic acts.

  He might well have managed to snag the vials and escape unnoticed, if not for David’s intervention. He couldn’t have predicted that David would be monitoring this facility so closely. He could not have known that this facility was part of a bigger plan. And he clearly did not know how hopelessly outmatched he was.

  The AI chirped to let him know that it had the requested access and data.

  David used the eye scanner to move through the images and video footage. Once Adam’s truck left the city grid, he would be out of range of the automated security systems. Even the UFVs would have trouble tracking him deep into the mountains, as their signals were occasionally blocked. They would default to “Lost/Return” mode—wandering slowly back to the grid and resuming their previous monitor-and-enforce pattern.

  But David didn’t need the grid to track Adam Bolland. He had eyes everywhere. He could see from above. And he watched as Bolland and his family turned from the blacktop and onto a dirt road. He watched as they approached a cabin, which was actually in Adam’s file of personal property. That was a foolish mistake. That cabin would be one of the first places the authorities would check, once they knew who Adam was.

  David had already released that information to them, of course. And now, with a few flicks of his eyes, he forwarded the location of the cabin as well.

  Of course, the police would have to go there personally. In their present state, they were not as effective as a police force. They would, however, be lucid enough to apprehend Adam and his family and incarcerate them. As long as David supplied directives, the police would follow them. It was only when they were left to their own devices that they tended to lapse into their own “Lost/Return” subroutine.

  Side effects of the process, David thought as he forward Bolland’s location and issued the command to apprehend.

  FIVE

  There was the occasional jostling from the roads, which were becoming increasingly rural. The few people they passed now were all in that weird state of suppression that Adam dreaded seeing. It meant something was changing. It meant there was a shift happening in the world.

  My family is part of that, he thought. He wasn’t sure how, or why. He knew only that it had something to do with the water.

  They continued in silence for another 45 minutes, Adam driving and Kate in the passenger seat. The children were eerily quiet in the back.

  All this quiet. He was all for some peace around the house, but Kate and the kids had stepped over the weird line, which had prompted Adam to start doing some digging. He never could have guessed things would end up here.

  He pulled off the black-topped country road and the truck began its climb up a narrow dirt right-of-way that would eventually deposit them on the upper stretch of the mountain. This wasn’t a road that Google Maps would be likely to chart, and other than the eyes in orbit, no cameras could see this place. Their destination was a cabin, hidden in the forest just below the tree line, about 1,000 feet higher than their current elevation.

  Adam purchased the cabin years ago from a man who had only used it for hunting season. It was rustic, but comfortable, and it served as a weekend retreat for the family. They’d put time and money into repairing and upgrading it, bringing in plumbing and electricity, so it was livable even by Kate’s standards. It had been a favorite spot for the kids growing up, but the novelty of the place had mostly worn off for the twins as they got older. Kate’s appreciation for it had faded a lot sooner. But Adam still liked the place, and had been meaning to come back for a while now. Under different circumstances, of course.

  “Dad, are we going to the cabin?” Sammie asked.

  Adam checked the mirror, and saw her looking dispassionately at the pines passing outside the window next to her. Was there a hint of enthusiasm? Was she lucid enough to recognize where they were and be happy about it? Or maybe bored? He’d take bored right now. “Yeah, sweetie. We’ll be there soon”

  He kept watching, glancing back to the dirt road in quick darts. He was hoping to see some reaction, some hint that she was all there. Instead, she seemed completely unmoved by the news. No excitement, certainly. But also no boredom. No protests that they’d been to the cabin a million times. It was like he’d just talked to her over some sort of intercom, and she was in a different room, or a different country.

  It was like her default programming had resumed with the lack of further input.

  It wasn’t the first time Adam had thought of it this way—as if everyone were somehow running on a program. Since this all began, since he had started noticing it, he had become increasingly alert. And in watching the world around him, he had picked up on certain similarities between the way people were acting and the way the ever-present AI systems were functioning. There was something there—some connection he was starting to see clearer as time went by. He had done some research, traced things back as far as he was able, and had landed on the vials.

  It had to be the new additive. All of this had started after the last EPA push. The chemical was supposed to help reduce the levels of heavy metal in the processed water supply. In fact, it did that. Adam himself had been part of the initial implementation team, taking samples and testing against the baseline over time. The chemical, whatever it was, did a fair job of counteracting the trace heavy metals that were somehow leaching into the water supply. What Adam never understood, however, was where those metals came from, and why it was so important to block them.

  In high quantities, heavy metal contamination could be toxic. But the minute traces they were finding in the local supply were so minuscule, and so benign, Adam could hardly believe the EPA would bother with them. It seemed strange. And that strangeness eventually became suspicious, as people began “drifting” in and out of their normal lives.

  There was a sudden jolt from a dip in the road, an
d Adam was back in this moment, gripping the steering wheel, keeping them steady on course. He glanced to his side and saw Kate watching the scenery pass as well. No sign of even registering the jolt. Even stranger, no sign of fear, regarding their hasty escape and run from police. No sign of dread. No sign that she was even aware that anything unusual was happening.

  It was a surreal experience, to still feel the tingle of aftereffects from adrenaline, to still feel the compulsive need to check his rearview mirror constantly, while no one else in the vehicle seemed to recognize that they might be in any danger. He was alone, with four other people.

  The truck lurched over an even larger divot in the road, the telltale sign that they were approaching their destination. Adam’s thoughts drifted to the many times they’d traveled this road, happy to get away from the city and into the mountains. They hit this same pothole year after year, and the kids would all yelp from the backseat, awakened from their nap and eager to stop, to get out and start exploring the surrounding forest. They were always so bored when the topic of the cabin came up, and yet so very excited when they got here. Those were some of the happiest times for Adam. He remembered all of the camp fires and s’mores and ghost stories. He remembered his kids, and even Kate, singing stupid camp songs and making up tall tales in a game of “one up.” Those were happy days, for sure. Before all the fights started. Before things got busy.

  He thought about one trip in particular, when they had all wound their way to a stream nearby, fishing poles over their shoulders. Sarah was just a baby then, barely big enough to hold her own head up. Charlie and Sammie were tiny and rambunctious—full of energy and ready to tackle anything. Especially fish. They would loudly and slashingly cast for fish. Which was why they would not be having fish for dinner that night, and instead would eat the Hamburger Helper Kate had brought as a backup plan, or some of the packaged, non-perishable food they’d stored in the cabin. But that was fine. It was all fine. They were together. They sang. They played pranks on each other. Kate loved him, and the kids loved him, and who needed fish when you had all that?