Now, by "still not done", I only mean that I have 13 pages left to write out of 70. That's....not a lot, and I'll probably have it finished by today.
As for what that means in terms of posting this, it's like this: Every morning, I'll post anywhere from six to nine pages of the story. I'll let the comments roll in, wait a full day, then post the next chunk of story the next morning. Some will be longer than others, some will be short---but, in the vein of LongTimeLurker, ALL parts will be posted in one thread...just with a slightly longer delay between postings than usual.
Before we begin, I have to give MAJOR props to TW for helping me get past the writer's block that had Vicki trapped in one particular section of the story---and by "MAJOR props", I mean "co-writer's credit". He's earned it.
Okay, enough rambling....let's get this gravy train a'rollin.
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There were relatively few things one could do at 3:42 A.M in Silicon Valley; every bar, nightclub and other “hot spot” from San Jose to Mountain View had reached closing time, and the university crowd was either sleeping, attempting to study or recovering from whatever partying they'd experienced the previous night.
At the Dynadrive Systems factory five miles outside of San Jose, there were even fewer things to do.
Ellen Mather knew the fact all too well as the Director of Operations at Dynadrive---her position as the “boss of the boss” effectively wrecked her home life by way of a constantly shifting schedule. On a good day (more specifically, on Tuesdays through Fridays), she usually left at 5 PM and had just enough time to say hi to the kids and quiz her husband about how his own day had been. Saturdays and Sundays were her days off, which she had no problem with; all in all, she didn't have a reason to complain six days out of the week.
Mondays, on the other hand.....
“Remind me,” she muttered, “why I let Kip alter my schedule again.” She glanced over her shoulder at the only other figure in the room---an attractive 20-something perched on a worktable, her face frozen in a smile. “Or not,” Ellen droned. “I forget you're not human, sometimes.” Indeed, she'd had a bit of trouble adjusting to the fact that more than a few of her employees were androids and gynoids---fancy ways of saying “humanoid robots that effectively look and act as close to real people as possible”. After years of shows and movies like Terminator 2 and The Matrix extolled the virtues of humanity always prevailing over machines, she now found herself having conversations with these artificial people who, at times, seemed more lifelike than her own family.
Unless they're turned off, she noted.
The 20-something in question, Missy, had been experiencing sporadic eye twitches and loss of coordination for a few days, and had been scheduled for a maintenance session.....the rest of the details were too mundane to remember, but Ellen had “technically” volunteered to supervise it---at 3:00 PM the previous day. Now, it was 3:42 AM, none of the specialists or technicians were on-site, and once again, Ellen found herself wishing she was anywhere but there.
“Welcome to another exciting Monday night at Dynadrive,” she muttered, shaking her head. “Yay, me....”
Her attention turned to the stack of magazines left in the repair room by the techies---unlike the typical waiting room fare, the Dynadrive crowd preferred literature relating to their hobbies and/or specialities. In this case, four years' worth of Computer Gaming World issues had been brought in by the latest rotating shift; so far, out of those 48 issues, Ellen had read 15...….yet the creeping tendrils of boredom made it hard to enjoy them.
“You're lucky,” she called out to Missy's unmoving form. “You don't have to wonder when you're going to get back home, or how the kids are doing....I'm sort of jealous, actually.” She shook her head again; she had nothing against Missy, or any of the android/gynoid employees, but she envied them sometimes---all of them had on-site dormitories and other facilities that had, at one point, been intended for a fully-human workforce to use. “You don't get bored, either,” she added. “You are just so lucky sometimes....”
Across the hall, a phone rang.
Ellen frowned. “If that's Kip telling me I have to stay tonight....” She'd already had two or three power naps so far, and if the voice on the phone was, in fact, Kip telling her she'd be working overtime... “Might as well get the stupid call over with.” She folded the page of CGW Issue 129 that she'd been reading and headed for the door. “Don't go anywhere,” she deadpanned, glancing at Missy.
The gynoid, predictably, just sat there smiling at the wall.
As soon as she set foot in the room containing the phone, Ellen felt like throwing something---contrary to her thought (and, admittedly, her hope) that the phone was the in-building landline network established to maintain contact with other factories, the source of the ringing was an iPhone left by an employee. Visions of annoyed girlfriends/spouses on the other end of the line gave her enough pause to consider not even answering the thing....
….but there was still the matter of her being so bored that there was almost literally nothing else to do around the entire factory that wouldn't be a colossal drain on resources.
A slow, steady breath escaped Ellen's lips as she stood there, massaging her temple. Might as well answer it, she reasoned. It's not like anyone else is going to do anything about it right now.... She crossed the room to the desk where the iPhone sat, ringing, and picked it up. “Dynadrive Industries, how may I help you?”
“Check your security systems.”
Something in those four words prompted a frown from Ellen. “Is....is this some sort of a joke? Who is this---”
“As weird as this sounds, ma'am, I have a perfectly good reason for saying this: just check your security systems. Especially the cameras.” The voice on the other end was calm, and sounded like a 20-something college girl. “I know it's....a weird request---”
“Did Kip set this up? Is this one of his stupid pranks or---”
“I have no idea who Kip is. I just know that something may be happening in your factory.”
That remark was crossing the line. “Was that a threat?”
“No---though I blame myself for wording it that way....look, someone's life may be at stake---and that's not a threat against you....” The voice on the other end sighed. “It's been a very weird morning for me, okay? Just please check the camera networks in your building.”
Ellen's scowl dissipated. “....you're not being held at gunpoint or anything, are you?”
“Under any other circumstances, I'd laugh that question off...and for the record, I'm not being held hostage or anything. Someone else might be, though---and I know this is going to sound stupid, but I think someone might've been brought to your facility against their will and left there as a prisoner.”
“You're right,” Ellen muttered, “that does sound stupid---”
“Except I happen to know this person's name, and why he might be in trouble.”
Even as she stared at the phone, wondering why in the hell she hadn't just hung up already and left the mystery caller in the dark, Ellen went over the facts. The caller didn't sound like they were panicking, or drunk, or stoned....more importantly, there weren't any idiots trying not to laugh in the background (so many crank calls to Dynadrive had been unmasked due to the perpetrators' friends not having the patience to just sit there quietly and shut the hell up).
There was also the small matter of Kip whining about the cameras before he left...
“Suppose I believe you,” Ellen mused. “Suppose there is some guy tied up or something...why should I---”
“Does the name Everett Greendale mean anything to you?”
Whatever reply Ellen planned on using died on her tongue. Everett Greendale had been one of the founders of Dynadrive; rumors of his death a few years prior had shook the company to its core....
….until he was spotted leaving the facility one day after a lengthy meeting with Dynadrive's board of directors.
“So you've heard of him, then.” There was a note of finality in those words, almost as if the caller had expected Ellen to know who Greendale was. “Any chance you could check the cameras to make sure---”
“Just....give me a minute.” With a quick few steps over to the aging Gateway PC nearby, Ellen sat down and entered her password---silently thanking whoever it was who'd suggested networking every PC in the building to the security systems. “West wing, clear....south wing, clear......north wing, all clean....east wing---”
She stopped.
“What about the east wing?”
“The east wing cameras are all dead,” Ellen breathed. “Every damn one of them....” Her fingers flew over the keyboard as she trying to reactivate the cameras; “They were working earlier,” she muttered, more to herself than to the mysterious caller on the other end of the line. “The stupid cameras were all working earlier today...if this is Kip's idea of a joke...”
A few quick keystrokes later, the cameras slowly flickered to life....and Ellen wished they hadn't.
It was hard to tell what was worse---the fact that the figure sitting in the chair had a black eye, multiple cuts (including one with three bandages of some kind) and the general look of a man who'd been broken, or the fact that the figure was obviously restrained via chains and shackles. The display model androids and gynoids posed in their display cases around him remained untouched, many of them showcasing expressions of calm or happiness as opposed to the chained man's expression---afraid, yet still ready to rise against those who had chained him.
“Well? Can you see anything---”
“It's Greendale. He's....he's in a chair....chained, for some reason...it looks like somebody beat him up.”
A sigh issued through the phone's speaker. “Figured that....just keep an eye on him and make sure he's in good shape; I'm on my way---”
“What do you mean, you're on your way?! How the hell do you even---”
“Miss, someone's trying to use Everett Greendale as a pawn in a massive, far-reaching conspiracy that may end up having a trickle-down effect on your own life in the end, so please try not to freak out too much about all of this and just trust me when I say that I'm on my way to help....by the way, in the event that this gets too stupid for either of us to handle, I'd appreciate it if you told me your name so I have someone to call when I get to the factory...”
“Mather. Ellen Mather.”
“Thanks for the info, Ellen Mather. A friend and I will be there shortly to retrieve Greendale...and get him to a hospital, hopefully. If all this goes well, my friend and I should be out of your hair in less than an hour, and Greendale will be safe.”
“And if it doesn't go well.....”
“Let's not think along those lines if we don't have to. Oh, and in case you're wondering who I am....”
“I was going to ask that.”
“The name's Lawson. Vicki Lawson.”
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“It seems rather...convenient that the first number you called was the one that held Greendale.” The voice that spoke these words had become a familiar one over the past few hours---the electronically-tinged synthetic tones were those of R-528, colloquially dubbed Mr. Roboto. “You do realize that this could be a potential trap---”
“I know it could be a trap, Roboto,” Vicki Lawson replied, “but sometimes you just have to take that risk. The van could've been rigged to blow as soon as I turned the ignition.....”
Something that sounded remarkably similar to a shotgun blast issued forth from the exhaust pipe.
“....and I have a feeling it'll go up in flames anyway,” the brunette gynoid finished, “as soon as we put it in park. See, this is why I wanted Anton to loan us the Versa....” She glanced at R-528, silently hoping he wouldn't bring up the fact that her own actions---namely, uppercutting the fender of the van---had led to its current status as a barely-driveable vehicle. “For the record,” she added, “I'm kinda sorta hoping you and Greendale don't have any....issues left over from when you were human....”
R-528's stare never left the road. “If there was any unfinished business between us, I wouldn't remember it anyway....and I doubt he would recognize me now.”
“But you're his son! And I'm not saying you 'were' his son---you still are!” Something about the emotion in her words surprised even Vicki herself; this whole thing is getting to me more than I thought it would... “Look,” she continued, “this might not be any of my business, but...even if he doesn't recognize you, maybe you should tell him....”
“And what if he no longer accepts me as his son?” R-528 asked, his synthesized voice a bit too quiet.
“I....well.....okay, maybe I didn't think that far ahead, but----”
“If Everett Greendale believes his son died the night I was brought into this world, then I have no reason to contradict him,” R-528 stated. “If, on the other hand, he chooses to recognize me as his son and accept me as such, then so be it. My own desire for anything resembling a normal life doesn't mean I should create conflict where none exists...”
The next few minutes of the ride went by in silence.
Finally, after passing a billboard for the latest Starlet Dolls album, Vicki decided to restart the conversation; I just hope I can get through more than two sentences without sounding like an insensitive jerk, she mused. Or, Jobs forbid, like Bonnie Brindle---before she grew a conscience, of course.... “So, ah, Roboto...”
“No, I don't remember the names of the two people from that last video file you observed.”
Vicki arched an eyebrow. “How do you even know---”
“Even as I sat there,” R-528 informed her, “I could see them....almost as one sees picture-in-picture on the screen of a television. I saw....and heard....”
It took less than a second for the horrifying implications to sink in. “You saw them....your own memories?!”
“Saw, heard, and began to gain a sense of clarity. It felt....different, from the attacks; I saw and heard what happened that night, but could also see what was happening in the present. It was as if each eye and ear was a window to a different time---one eye and ear saw and heard the present, the others saw and heard the past. My past.....a past I thought I had lost forever. It felt....strange....but I was still in control of my mind, my thoughts...my emotions....”
“And you were just seeing these memories,” Vicki inquired, “not reliving them?”
The metal-skinned android nodded. “Whatever your friend, the Professor, did.....it kept me grounded in reality.”
“Which is good,” the brunette gynoid quickly reminded him. “From what he said about that missing component from the process that made you....well, you, though, I don't know if Anton's little trick with the PowerBook will be enough to keep you from having any further 'attacks' of that kind. Hence, our road trip to a Dynadrive factory I've never been to---or even heard of---before today.” Even as she carried on the conversation, her ocular sensors remained locked on the road ahead. “I just hope this isn't another Silicon Dynamics situation in the making...”
From the tone of R-528's reply, Vicki could tell he'd be arching an eyebrow if he had the ability. “What, exactly, is a 'Silicon Dynamics' situation?”
“A situation where I go in under the pretense of just making sure everything still works the way it should, and end up saving an entire facility from a psychotic hacker and a serial killer who doesn't know when the hell to stay down.” Quick flashes of her mission at the SD factory were called up in her vision, playing out like GIFs filmed in the first-person viewpoint. “Let's just say I don't want to relive it any time soon.”
R-528 started to say something, only to be interrupted by “Stayin' Alive”---the ringtone from the cellphone Vicki had found in the glove compartment of the van. “It's the Dynadrive plant,” she mused. “Guess Ellen found something....” She keyed on the phone. “Hello?”
“Someone else is in the factory!”
A whirlwind of scenarios played out in the gynoid's thoughts, most of them involving some unseen (and more than likely malevolent) figure stalking through the corridors of the Dynadrive facility. “Apart from yourself and Greendale, you mean? Your factory does make---”
“It's not any of the robots---androids, I mean, it's not any of them. Someone's on the other side of the factory, near the east wing.....they tripped an alarm two minutes ago!”
Vicki resisted the urge to squeeze her eyes shut and visualize herself somewhere else; the last thing I need right now is to put this thing in a ditch, she reasoned. “Just so we're clear, my friend and I are still on the road,” she informed Ellen. “Whoever this newcomer is, they're not with me.” At least, I hope not, she mentally added; Anton had taken the Versa to visit the two ALPA plants (which, luckily for him, were in relatively close proximity to each other) personally. “I'm about three minutes away, so if anything else happens between now and then---”
“I'm not going to go hide in the nearest corner, if that's what you're suggesting.”
“Nothing of the sort. Whatever security systems are online, keep them online. If any are offline, try to get them back online...unless it means putting yourself in the path of the intruder.” For a split second, Vicki had a horrible thought that the “intruder” was Faceless himself...
...except he's still chained to a hospital bed in a high-security Intensive Care ward, thanks to me...
She managed to tear herself away from the morbid chain of thought just in time to hear Ellen say something about locking down the entire faciltiy. “...and if they keep bypassing the security systems, the whole factory will go into full security alert and seal itself---I won't be able to turn it off!”
“I'll try to make it there before it gets that bad, ma'am,” Vicki replied. “Just stay calm...I'll be there in a minute.”
Well, I'll be there in two minutes and twenty five seconds, specifically, she mentally corrected as she turned off the phone, assuming I don't hit an inexplicable traffic jam out of nowhere...
She noticed R-528 staring at her as she put the phone down. “What?”
The android nodded out the window towards a billboard---which Vicki could just barely read, given the rather impressive speed of the van---meant to deter drivers from using cellphones while driving. “Apparently, use of a cellular phone can increase risk of fatalities---”
“Yeah, when there's other cars on the road!” The brunette gynoid groaned. “No offense to the human race as a whole, but apart from a very select few, almost nobody has the spatial awareness and percpetion needed for something like carrying on a full conversation while driving....and, like I just said, it would've been worse if there was anyone else out here. It's almost 4 in the morning, everyone else is either in bed or just leaving the red-eye shift wherever they work...”
“Understandable. Still---”
“Will you relax?! I'm not going to roll the car or anything!” Even as she felt like laughing off R-528's claims, Vicki remembered a few instances in her own life when Ted, Joan and even Jamie had been involved in traffic accidents. “Just let me worry about the driving, okay? We're nearly to the Dynadrive facility.....”
Even as she tried not to let R-528's comments about her driving distract her too much, Vicki knew it was no use. At that moment, she wasn't even paying attention to her own driving---she was still thinking about the horror that was R-528's early existance. Did Greendale even know until it was too late? Did they even try to tell him until after the fact, or was it something they tried to hide from him? The revelation of the android's origin, by way of his own digitized memory, was---for lack of a better word---haunting; especially that last, final whisper from a woman who'd tried to save R-528....
“.....don't let him die....please.....”
Almost without thinking, Vicki spoke: “Do you remember anything about....your mother?”
She saying the words almost as soon as she spoke them, mainly due to the fact that she expected R-528 to lash out, or to have another attack similar to what had happened at the Foundry. To her surprise, the android's reply was quiet: “I only remember a kind face, a soothing voice and a gentle hand to help me when I fell, and even those memories are....sketchy, as one might say. Mere images....nothing concrete.”
“Would she have been the one who tried to help you after....February 23rd?”
There was something in R-528's voice that sounded....lost, almost. “I don't know.”
“So there's one more lead blown....” Vicki sighed as she spotted the fence that surrounded the main parking lot of the Dynadrive factory. “Just let me handle everything when we get inside...if Greendale really doesn't recognize you, we'll have a better chance of getting him out of here if I'm the one who talks to him...” Her thoughts turned back to Anton's reason for going his own way: stalling for time against Hewlett and Packard while Greendale and R-528 were brought back to HQ.
Optimistically, it would all work out fabulously....
….but realistically, it was shaping up to be an absolute nightmare.
“It'll all be fine,” Vicki heard herself mutter. “Everything's going to be fine....”
R-528 glanced at her. “I never expressed any belief that things would not be 'fine'....and you appear to have an ocular fluid leak.” A quick glance in the rear-view mirror told the truth: Vicki saw a lone tear streaking down her face.
“It's...it's nothing,” she assured the metal-skinned android.
Yeah, it's nothing...so why do I feel like we're walking right into the fire?
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So, yeah. Part 1. Comments, compliments and constructive criticisms are anticipated and appreciated.
