CHAPTER 3

Silas's time away to heal from his injuries in the car wreck reinvigorates an enthusiasm for social action. At the LOTRY Community Center, the group plans a nighttime excursion to a club across town in celebration of their fifth anniversary. The event is being sponsored by the social media news personality, Van Dyke. After interviewing Silas on his live broadcast at the hospital, he's become a sensation at the Community Center, visiting for meetings several days a week. But the things he's learned along the way have radicalized him with rage toward Ellis Bartram's commercial enterprise, like the exploitation of cheap laborers. The vow of character assassination still hasn't left their plans, but now it's time for celebration.

The nightclub is a hotspot attraction called Amplify. The theme is electric mixes arranged by the day's DJ to popular hits in all genres—amplified by holographic projections. The line along the outside perimeter is long, with reservations deciphered with the help of body scanners. Silas's outfit is bright red at the top and burgundy to the bottom, contrasted to suede shoes that compliment his mahogany brown skin under the moonlight. LOTRY is not alone. The young intern from Delphi Corp., Ben Sims, is present in the waiting area. Just as Naoto Shimizu forewarned him, the dangers of a risqué lifestyle could hamper his internship with recreational distractions. It is a night out with his new boyfriend. Times like these make them want to give heed to such warnings, surrounded by misfits, yet Ben remains steadfast in his desire to unwind from the stress.

Ben keeps his Delphi identification close just in case he needs to show his working credentials. Before readying to enter the club's scanner interface, he shoves it, along with the encryption wad into a back pocket. Especially the encryption device with valuable codes, data, and other computer processes. While in line, Ben stays warm while hugging his date snugly. Crisp air fogs to the dim-lit mist that whirls around them, and for a moment, the music from inside echoes with each opening and closing of sliding doors. A flurry of electric beats thumps to rhythmic swaying in steady intervals, long chords rattle loose bones prepared to take it to the dance floor. When they finally make it in there is already a massive swarm of people crowding the rave's center dancefloor.

LOTRY anniversary processions start on stage when the DJ cuts the music halfway through the night. Van Dyke comes on stage to make his appearance and is met with a round of applause.

"Hey! Put your lighters, drinks, whatever you've got in the air right now." Van Dyke points to a reserved table full of Community Center members. "This is for Silas, and to a better world that doesn't have CCS plastered everywhere!" He finishes the toast with a gulp of some aged whiskey he's fond of.

They're particularly excited because boycotts on grocery outlets due to the food shortage have been successful. Farms using Delphi Corp. equipment have been relying on an automated distribution of pesticides and feed. To make things worse, the latest farming tools use a mix of LED tech with advanced diode lights. These are the photons infecting the crops each day. The steady breakdown of an already overloaded system means that frequent blackouts to the Cloud infrastructure make the entire platform susceptible to failure.

In a drunken stupor, Ben inadvertently pulls out his encryption wad and raises it with a hand to the lights pulsating under the darkened ceiling. Gyrating his body in unison to his partner in front of him, the device slips from his grasp to the floor below. The shuffling feet kick the flimsy computer node around and no one seems to care at all while bouncing through the sea of giddy dancers. The music doesn't stop, continuing to turn the throttle of emotional ecstasy. Ben and his partner lose themselves in the thrill, and subsequently any intuition of what's important now that the encryption device is gone, but they are hardly sober anymore. They haven't the slightest care in the world.

Toward the end of the night, a late stroll of people crowds the exit where Ben and his partner are forced to mingle with folks from the Community Center. Clipped on one side by a strong shoulder Ben turns around slowly to meet a bold-faced man, where the alcohol only riles both their nerves to an anxious fit.

"Why don't you hurry on up out of the way?" the guy yells.

Ben and his partner try to remove themselves from the situation, but they're having a hard time now that both are surrounded by a crowd of inebriated partiers. A roaming promoter of Amplify manages to see Ben's encryption plug-in on the floor. He decides to see who it belongs to through the speaker intercom.

"Anybody leave some computer module on the floor here?"

Looking up, Ben's partner is sobered enough to hear the call. Ben himself never mentioned it, so when the promoter blares it to the crowd no one claims it. The two of them clumsily stumble over each other's toes on their way out of the nightclub. Metered taxis are parked idly outside while waiting to carry passengers. Ben lazily recites his repetitive morning directions when they fall into one of the hover taxi's back seats. Hover cars are the newest form of transportation, integrated with all the best upgrades, but they are also the most expensive.

Ben fuddles the initial words. "... uh, M Street," he says, spitting out drooling gobs of spit that reek of alcohol.

"Hush it, Ben," his partner scolds him. "We're going home, what he meant to say was go north until you reach M—we're near Georgetown. Here's the address to our place," he says to the driver.

Rushing off to avoid coming traffic behind them, they exit the parking lot, and the taxi takes the drunken couple home. Unbeknownst to them, LOTRY has struck it rich again with their streak of luck now that they have snagged vital information from Delphi Corp. thanks to Ben's irresponsibility.

🌌

Sandra Wilson is the lead structural engineer for a new dam project to link the port docks to a reservoir inland. Miles away from the coast toward the Appalachians, workers toil away at the concrete slabs being entrusted to reinforce the hydraulic beams. With idle time on his hands, Bartram receives a call from Sandra at the worksite. They are three days out from a major inspection and are poised to meet construction regulations. Huddled in a cushioned office chair, as always, the leather upholstery keeps Bartram comfortable, dawdling time in anticipation for total immersion into simulated computer space. He's still waiting for the go-ahead order on that. An incoming call alerts Bartram out of his monotonous routine. Only this time, the call says emergency. Reaching forward to initiate contact control, Bartram doesn't reach Sandra in time. The contact is cut while his tie dangles to the projection board on an interactive table. Standing over the large counter in expectation, he thinks that maybe the worst has happened. He redials her emergency line.

"Sandra! This doesn't sound good, what's going on?"

The connection from the other end is crackling to the disruption of newly laid electrical lines interfering with the CCS platform intercoms. With vulnerable wireless connections, Bartram is subjecting the entire assembly of Delphi Corp. software to sudden catastrophe. The rangers on Mars are familiar with his setbacks even millions of miles away. Disturbed at the developing problem, he continues at attempts to get her to respond. She finally does, but her words aren't entirely clear.

"My crew is dropping like flies out here," she says.

Bartram isn't keen on the details since he hasn't had in-field correspondence. He removes the blazer that's wrapped tight around his broad shoulders. He begins to sweat from the arid weather seeping inside. The sounds surrounding Sandra drown out her voice as the intermingled noises of clanking metal resounds among shouts, distracting her focus.

Bartram is reminded of the food shortage that's been happening. Disparaging treatment all over the media has deemed it the next new crisis. And like Sandra tells him, even some of her crew are being hit hard by it. Delphi Corp. is the primary suspect. As of now, the reason for all the mishaps is a mystery.

"Sandra, hold on," he says, readying to check something. He figures that her side of the connection won't be back on for a while.

Moving away from the projection board, Bartram hurries toward a vacant door where a sick member of his team is eating soup. He opens the door to find him timidly engrossed with a spoon that, with each touch of the tongue, steams a little more. Bent over a sturdy chair, Bartram startles him from behind, he's got to vent his worries to someone.

"Things are getting worse," Bartram declares. The team member turns around with a sheepish grin before wiping the goop from his face in embarrassment.

"I take it there's more," he replies. Setting his bowl down, he uses the damp napkin to clean his hands.

"Do you know Sandra? I think you know her," Bartram says with a nervous anxiousness.

"Yeah, yeah. That's the black lady that's heading the construction of the dam."

"Right, well she's on the other line out there." Bartram points to the buffering projection board at his desk. "Her crew is being hit hard by this, this thing."

"Well, I'm sick because of a food poisoning outbreak." The team member speaks with ease, not yet aware of the greater problem ahead.

Bartram wants to sit down, but he can't find a place to rest himself with the comfort he's accustomed to. The worries continue to pile up as he stands upright at the door's frame. As he begins to continue their talk, a flash of light is reflected off the sheen of an adjacent wooden post. He turns around to see a fully functioning projection. Sandra is in full-frame. He and the team member rush to stand in front of their intercom.

Her hair is coiled back in sleek braids, where her face glistens from the sweat of a hot day. Sandra positions the camera away from the sun's glare the best she can.

"We're back, we're back online," Bartram declares. He notices the same unenthusiastic team member who meanders beside him, dragging another chair to sit down and drink coffee.

"The automated machines are breaking down," Sandra says. She points to a backdrop of disabled Delphi cranes that were contracted at the start of construction. "I don't know what's going on over there, but this is proving to be a really big problem". Bartram stays standing while infiltrated with thoughts of calamity, he contemplates what may happen if all of this isn't averted.

"As we made our trip westward, we could see farms for miles being devastated by a pesticide," she says. "Markets nearest to them have an infiltration of some infectious outbreak that if it isn't controlled soon, will contaminate the entire food supply."

Bartram's unwavering focus nudges him forward. "It's the Cloud platform that we've introduced into the market," Bartram says. "There's something wrong, but we can't recall all of it now. We think it's a problem with the main hard drive housed at our Headquarters."

Sandra continues to look at the disabled machinery sitting stationary along the periphery of their worksite, abandoned in mounds of dirt and uplifted soil. "Is this," she points at the disabled machines, "what you had planned, Mr. Bartram?"

"Well," he stops himself, deterred by the image of his life's work sitting functionless.

Sandra fidgets with loose tools that she hands to a partner who comes into the picture frame. Refocusing on Bartram, she finishes her thought. "I'm letting you know the consequences. That's thousands of dollars, maybe millions in insurance that I'm not responsible for, do you understand me, Mr. Bartram? We have a national crisis coming to fruition."

Closing the connection, the sickly team member continues sipping coffee from a warm cup. Bartram listens as the final sips are slurped from the bottom mold.

"Oh boy, big problem, huh?" the other team member blurts out. Bartram peers down at the closed projection board lining the tabletop, and it reminds him why he's the one with confidential knowledge. He doesn't get mad but is invigorated to take the appropriate steps.

🌌

Before gathering all the data to analyze their difficulties, Yasmine joins the group of researchers to round out the total immersion project about to be underway. With a compilation of names already confirmed, they are waiting for federal approval to conduct the simulated mission. Bartram has given the go-ahead for a massive study into their Cloud Computing System. Yasmine reminds him of the blackout that happened days prior and requests that AIS Aladdin join her. Sitting at its learning station, a blank canvas of white walls in hollowed silence leaves Aladdin alone in its corner to process thoughts.

"The AIS needs to be watched," Bartram says.

Yasmine has become fond of Aladdin, recognizing the unique place it has within Delphi Corp. If it wasn't for the AIS, she may not have made it out of those dark corridors alone.

"Perhaps, it can stay in an adjacent room, or near me."

"The AIS can be put to work with Naoto. He's the one who programmed most of its functions anyway. If I'm not mistaken, I remember saying that he could take over your daily duties," Bartram reminds her. "I think that works, what do you think? Total immersion is going to take everything we have."

Succumbing to the pressures of company business, Yasmine agrees to relinquish her ties with Aladdin.

"Aladdin will be in good hands. No need to worry."

In a partitioned area of warehouse space, the room for total immersion is complete with a raised floor area with neural system networks. Wires lay about everywhere, but in the early stages, everything seems messy. It won't be long before they create order from this clutter.

"This is our latest method to enter from the backend with a Neural-Link," Bartram explains to the small group. Their expressions remain skeptical.

"What do you mean, exactly?" Yasmine asks.

"What you see is what you get," Bartram says. "These seats are manufactured to keep you warm and keep your body tethered in place, with receptors that monitor physical responsiveness. That synthetic headcover there overrides your senses—tongue clasp apparatus, ear nodes, contact goggles, all along our neural synapses to link consciousness with the Cloud's main hard drive. An anesthetic chemical will put you all out. The pilot's gear will make sure everyone retains sensory perception with small electrical impulses... don't worry about your hair."

The volunteer scientists' nods of approval relieve Bartram, who has been under fire recently. "We're supposed to gather vital grid information. Our jobs are to go in, grab the data, and get out. Let's try to make this process quicker than it is presenting itself to be. This should take under a week. We can enter into and out of the dream state so long as we keep our minds focused, which means don't wander off in the darkness."

A computer engineer raises his hand in suspicion of the whole thing. "Just hold on one minute. So, what you're telling me is that we're supposed to just wrap ourselves tightly in this little room, each of us, and sit with blank minds in a void of computer darkness to collect data?"

"Yes, sir." Bartram avoids letting vexation deter him, reverting his eyes to the empty chairs in a subtle uneasiness. "The entire internet is available, what we'll see is only a sliver of data, steps compared to miles, many miles."

🌌

The time it takes for Aladdin to be assigned to Naoto's study is the same amount of time it takes for his assistant Ben to become a lost intern overnight. Ben has not arrived at his assignment in almost an entire week. There isn't much to go on, but ever since he told Naoto of his relationship during vacation, their work habits have taken a nosedive. Naoto examines the supercomputers' data in place of Yasmine. He requests Aladdin's assistance through the intercom before the AIS makes its way out of the learning studio. The housed data center is fully lit, but an inconsistent murmuring of noise from within the computers is worrying. It is an inconsistent puttering rather than a continuous hum. What they need is to locate the root of the problem.

"The costs, the costs, and the consequences of another malfunction. You know this requires maintenance each time?" Mr. Shimizu schemes with a team member before Aladdin comes in to disrupt the whispering.

"Hello, Naoto." Aladdin's voice projects down the hallways as it walks toward Naoto in a familiar spot along a passageway of computers.

"Aladdin, nice to see you. Come on over!" Naoto says.

Aladdin begins to recall what's happened. "This is where Yasmine had trouble." Naoto's face remains stoic. "The blackout caused an outage across CCS platforms in different capacities. Total immersion, I recall something to do with a classified mission," Aladdin reiterates.

"Whoa, immersion—Aladdin, how do you know about that?" Naoto asks in apprehension.

"It was a part of my duties to locate the culprit. It isn't clear, however. Is there a problem, Mr. Naoto?"

"Do you hear that?"

Aladdin sharply darts its head around mechanical pivots. "I think I do, Mr. Naoto. A slight inconsistency in the rhythm of the computer drivers."

Naoto is satisfied by its quick responsiveness. "Yes, that's about right. Something is overloading the coding. The fact is, Aladdin, that there isn't any malware. If there's a virus, it has to be coming from inside of this computer."

Aladdin's synapses continue to think of what may have been the problem. "Immersion, sir." He continues to pester Naoto.

"Okay, okay. I think I've got your point Aladdin, it's total immersion."

In the long walkways, Naoto and Aladdin continue in conversation about the inner workings of the Cloud's main drivers. The digital information specs are gone over multiple times before any further action, and as Naoto thinks of the new AIS's responsiveness, thoughts of Ben come racing to his mind again.

Left on a couch with deep crevices, Ben lays face first with a horrible cough. His contagiousness is contained by a lonely room, paid for by the internship he is neglecting. Managing to remember what was supposed to be an astounding career, the effects of Delphi Corp. are starting to show its effects on his tired and weary body. Times like these have been the hardest on Ben since entering college.