"Honey. Honey, wake up! We're going to be late."
My eyes slowly opened, regaining focus and revealing Mom sitting on the side of my bed, beside my motionless form just barely beginning to stir after a long night's rest. She wasn't kidding, I thought, when she mentioned this place would be 'luxury': the thick, plush blankets around me, the smell of cherry bark permeating the room, the grand high ceilings and esoteric internal design. True to its name, it truly was something of a hidden 'Haven'.
"He up yet?" The voice came from downstairs. Usually, Dad wouldn't have been awake before me... but, he never would have heard the end of it if he slept in on Mom's special day.
"I'm up, I'm up…" My voice was strained, as I still coped with being awoken so abruptly.
Mom turned to yell vaguely in the direction of my dad's voice. "Getting there!" Her voice was never really meant to project. Hoped they had a lot of microphones for her today. Would more microphones make you louder? She seemed to notice my mind was beginning to wander. "No time to lose!" She pulled the covers off of me, and gave my chest a light smack. "Get your suit on! We're leaving in ten minutes, buster!" Couldn't sound intimidating to save her life. That said, I wasn't going to disappoint her, although as she turned and waltzed down the stairs (with a veritable spring in her step that nearly caused her to fall, might I add), I could have done anything I wanted.
I swiveled on my butt and put my feet down to a cold hardwood floor, flinching as the chill shot through my body. Was going to need plenty of energy today; I'd have to, at the very least, be pretending to listen to Mom's speech, even though I knew I wouldn't understand a lick of it.
Standing managed to wake me up a bit more, so I finally dragged myself down the stairs, clutching the railing and rubbing my eyes along the way. We may have planned this trip - planned this day - for months on end, but that wasn't going to change my insistence on breakfast. Dad was, of course, already on top of it; I doubt he'd give up breakfast either, even today of all days.
"How many eggs do you need?" A small snigger escaped my mom's lips as she said it. Rushing as she was to get on her best black suit jacket, I could just make out her face scrunching up a little bit. Her nostrils always flared when she got nervous or fired up about something, and the way she puffed her cheeks out accordingly to offset was obviously overcompensating. Of course, she could've been just trying to fend off the stench Dad's 'signature blend of herbs and spices': that being about three whole sprigs of oregano, and a pinch - or twelve - of black pepper. All of which was part of some kind of semicircular mass in the pan, teetering on the edge of inedibility.
"As many as will keep me awake until you're on stage!" Dad said with a fake-smug smile, accenting each word with a shake of the end of his spatula.
"It's gonna go straight through you. You'll be in the bathroom by the time I'm on stage." Mom tightened her tie, a little too tight. Her eye-rolling sarcastic expression turned to mild shock for a moment as it constricted her neck, prompting her to simply pull it off completely.
"That's not," said Dad, barely able to hold back a defensive laugh. "How the human body works."
"But it is how your cooking works," snickered Mom. She turned again, and seemed to fully notice me for the first time since she woke me up. Her eyes widened, but not with worry, just surprise. "And you better not miss my speech because of it."
"Again," I said under my breath. Slight mistake. Mom turned to me, a betrayed stricken look on her face.
"Again?" Behind her, Dad was gesturing wildly. Bared teeth, hand slashing across the throat. Mom quickly shifted her gaze to him, and just caught the tail end of it as he, futilely, pretended to just be scratching his chin aloofly. "Wait, on Eden- you said that you got an important business call!"
Dad shrugged, with an awkward grimace on his face. "Well… a certain kind of business was calling…"
"Oh, lovely." Mom rolled her eyes, and swept up to me, whisking me back toward the staircase. "You need to get dressed." She was right; no way I could go out in public in my Ogre Titan jammies.
As we ascended the staircase, her hand lightly stroking the top of my head, Dad lifted his sautee pan and spatula, his mouth half full. "Hey! Aren't you gonna eat?!"
"I've lost my appetite. Thank God," Mom said, only just loud enough to reach Dad, who was already chowing down on the rest of the near-burnt eggs.
"I'm still hungry," I said quietly, trying my best to pout.
"You can have some of that… concoction if you promise not to get any on your jacket." She patted my back, and I nodded vigorously, beginning to skip steps to get up faster.
Mom wasn't even in the room yet, and I already had my dress shirt and jacket on. My pants were still those adorned with hulking Titans, one hand striking a bulky thumbs-up, the other pointing directly at the observer. I want YOU to have a good night's sleep.
Rounding the doorway, she looked me up and down. "Well… I suppose at least the Hammond guys might even be flattered if you showed up like that." I smiled and looked down at the pants. Did she get them for me? Or did I pick them out somewhere? Before I knew it, Mom was kneeled down in front of me, straightening my jacket, brushing a bit of dandruff from my collar. She looked me straight in the eye, and let a hefty sigh escape her nostrils.
A quick glance down, and then she met my gaze again, this time with something else behind her eyes. Her lips quivered a little bit, betraying the smile she tried to hold on her face. Even as a kid, it didn't go over my head. "What's wrong, Momma?" I hadn't called her that in what felt like ages.I could tell, that one extra syllable cut her to the bone. One single sniffle, and she regained her composure.
"You, uh…" Maybe she wasn't entirely composed. One more sniffle. "It's just you're growing up so fast." She looked down at the floor again. I could tell, she was getting a little choked up. "I'm really, really proud of you." She wiped her eye with the edge of her collar. "Seems like the less I watch over you, the more I make you come to places like this and watch me."
"But I like watching you do these!" I said, in an innocent attempt to cheer her up. "And I like coming to all these places-"
"I know you do, sweetie." She gave me a light pat on my cheek, then used the same hand to wipe her eyes swiftly. She leaned in close, right next to my ear. "I haven't told your dad yet, but… I think it's all gonna change soon." She leaned back away, and gave me a congenial grin.
"What do you mean?" I was none too eager to lose our free resort stays and excuses to eat out.
"This is a... " She stopped, looking nonplussed. Undoubtedly, she was trying to find a way to put it so I could understand. "A really special project. Big one; lots of money being thrown around."
"Well… what does that mean for us?"
"It means we won't have to move around all the time. We'll be in one place," She ran her hand over the top of my head, down to my cheek. "And we'll all be together."
My eyes widened. "Forever?"
Her smile widened too. "Forever. You'll see. We're gonna show something here today that's gonna be… crazy. Really." She stood up, and put her hands on her hips, as footsteps approached on the nearby staircase, causing her voice to pick up a bit of volume. "And I know how hard you and your father are to impress."
Mom turned, obviously expecting to see Dad coming up the stairs. Instead, she was met with an imposing older man, gray combover lackadaisically disrupted by a communications headset , gray jacket to match his hair. He had some kind of accent that I couldn't recognize; it wasn't like most of the other people Mom worked with.
"Ma'am. You do realize you're on in fifteen minutes?"
"Marder." Mom obviously knew him, and by the tone of her voice, she was obviously not fond of him. "You didn't think of calling before barging into our hotel room?"
"Bit of an understatement calling this a 'room'. All this extra space could be used for something practical-"
"Are we going, or what?"
Marder stepped to the side, ungating the staircase. Mom leaned down and put her hand on the back of my neck, aiding her in giving me a quick peck on the forehead. "I'll see you out in the audience, sweetie." She made for the stairs, and without turning around, said "And you really should wear your good pants!" as she descended. Marder turned to the staircase, then gave me a quick glance, and gave me a forced smile. You know the kind - that forced smile, not reflected behind the eyes, that conveys only condescension. He quickly slithered away behind Mom, and both of them disappeared.
I descended the stairs myself a minute later, having donned my pleated black dress pants just as Mom wanted. She was already gone, of course, undoubtedly already backstage at the nearby promenade. The door to the resort room was still open, revealing a street bustling with finely dressed throngs of people, all funneling somewhere straight across the street from our door.
"Last chance, buddy!" From the side, the frying pan was shoved directly beneath my nostrils, and I went cross-eyed looking down at it beyond the tip of my nose.
"You ate more than three quarters of it already." Maybe I would've been more amused, under different circumstances.
"I also weigh more than twice what you do." Dad produced a plate from his other hand, dumping the semi-burnt slurry onto it from the pan, before putting it on the nearby countertop and placing his open hand onto his gut. "Though, that'll hopefully change with that new stair climber back home," he added under his breath. He looked over to me, as I watched him with mild concern. "Eat! We gotta go." He gave me a sympathetic grin, and began looking around for our ID badges.
The eggs were about exactly as I expected. Though I probably couldn't have done better in such a short time. It wasn't long before Dad had slipped an ID badge around my neck, and ushered me toward the door.
Immediately, we were caught in the veritable river of individuals flowing down toward the central promenade. Between several buildings, there was a clearing of sorts; directly beneath a luxury bungalow, there was an open space that had been fashioned into a makeshift stage. A podium stood front and center, with several chairs accompanying it on each side. I only just caught a glimpse of the stage, but not of Mom, as we pushed through to reach the stairs. I remembered having seen some of these people before, but I couldn't quite recall from where. Maybe they had come around to one of the many get-togethers Mom had held back home after her team finished a big project. Maybe I had seen one on "bring your child to work day"?
...not him, though.
As we pushed through the crowd, I ended up bumping into a few people. Not surprising; as much as I wanted to see what exciting project Mom was talking about, most of the grownups around likely wanted to get down to this presentation more than I did. Either because they had large sums of money riding on it, or perhaps because they might have understood it.
Dad was pulling me along, trying to navigate through the crowd, when my hand slipped out of his. I saw him turn back, but his face was almost immediately obscured by three others filling in the gap. And I certainly couldn't look over anyone's heads.
And that's when he hit me. Or rather, I hit him. In the commotion, to make my way forward back to Dad, I bumped into yet another passerby. It was odd - this one was standing completely still, facing directly away from the staircase. I craned back, and saw him, just standing there.
The first thing that hit me, beyond his mere appearance, was that he just looked… off. No one else seemed to notice him; in fact, the crowd moved around him as if he was a planet and the rest were meteorites, sliding through his gravitational field. But, beyond that, he just didn't seem to fit in with the environment. Sure, with his ratty looking matching cargo jacket and pants and unkempt stubble, scratched goggles atop his head, enough dirt that it nearly kicked up dust as people passed him, he didn't look like everyone else around. The light of the sun didn't seem to interact with him properly; it was like poorly edited photograph. He just stared me down, his head cocked awkwardly to the side resting on his shoulder, his jaw slack and hanging slightly open. My expression changed slowly from one of confusion, to a mixture of awe and a will to understand.
"Hey!" Dad grabbed hold of my hand again, and I whipped my head around to look up at him, that vacant look still on my face. "Could you imagine what your mom would say if she couldn't see us in the crowd?" He cracked a smile. "Let's make sure to get good seats."
One more glance back, and the man was gone, the crowds still filing through.
Lucky for us, most of the people filing in seemed to be reporters, all of them holding old-fashioned pen and paper pads in hand, striking the old inquisitive poses around the back of the promenade. There was reserved seating right up in front of the stage, specifically for 'honored guests of the presenters', as the accompanying placard read. There were a few women sitting at the end of the row, but as it seemed to be the most vacant area, Dad waved me in. I knew the drill - that awkward shuffle as people try their hardest not to stand up and get out of your way as you file in. Like at the theater. Except, if Mom was right, we were going to see something a lot crazier than a movie.
Dad could tell I wasn't exactly comfortable with sitting next to the ladies on the outer part of the row, so he took the seat next to them. While the commotion around began to die down, one of them struck up a conversation with them.
"Pardon me, but I don't recognize you," began the woman closest to him. "Are you one of the presenters?"
Dad, being mistaken for the 'breadwinner' all the time, adeptly played it off. "No, my wife's presenting. She's one of the lead engineers in the Ares Division."
"Oh, a stay-at-home husband! How wonderful!" chimed in the woman farthest. He hadn't even said it yet, but her assumption was right. "Maybe my husband works with her; has she mentioned an Arnold? Arnold Tucker?" Dad did his best to look like he was thinking while maintaining a smile, but the woman once again pressed quickly enough. "Oh, perhaps you know what your wife was working on?"
Uh oh. This was the part Dad dreaded. "Well, I, uh…" He looked away from her bashfully, beginning to blink overly quickly. "Sorry, I'm not a real… technical person. Shows how good of a husband I am, right? She musta practiced that speech with me a hundred times by now, I can't remember a word of it! Hahaha…" The women didn't seem to be amused, and his laughter stopped suddenly. "I think… man, if I just heard the first words of that speech, I betcha I could rattle the whole thing off… uh, something about uh, a… network? Network…" He struggled to find the biggest word he knew. "...infrastructure?"
The woman also seemed to try and look like she was thinking, but only to be polite, and it passed fleetingly. "Perhaps not, then. My husband works on the mechanical structure of the upcoming Spectre project. Best in his field-"
"Lindsay!" whispered the one in the middle, elbowing the other woman. "That's confidential! There are reporters here, you know!"
The other woman (Lindsay, apparently), furrowed her brow at the woman in the middle, before settling back in her chair again. "Won't be classified for long," she added under her breath. "Arnie's promised to put some extra kick in them just for me… we'll see if those Militia scum-"
"Everyone, please find your seats, we'll be starting momentarily." I couldn't see where the voice came from, but this close to the stage, it nearly blew out my ears as it came from the nearby speakers. One of the women nearby, I couldn't tell which, began to shuffle uncontrollably.
"Quiet down, it's starting!" someone whisper-yelled.
But a moment later, a large holographic display began to materialize at the front of the stage. I'd seen videos like this before: what Dad liked to call 'puff pieces', and Mom… well, generally just ignored to not speak ill of her employer. The video began as it always did, with a flash of the IMC logo, and lots and lots of stock footage: dropships flying around above a crowded city, scientists pointing at a complex equations on a whiteboard while smiling and nodding, and of course a few Titans and IMC military guys picking up rubble and handing out some kind of aid kit to surrounding civilians.
"The Interstellar Manufacturing Corporation. I-M-C. Integrity. Morality. Compassion. All values we hold dear in our continued mission to bring humanity to the next frontier." The footage changed now, focusing more on machinery, manufacturing. "Our Ares Division has worked tirelessly to help secure humanity's future in the stars. Now, we look inward." The footage now showed a few children playing soccer, and their parents smiling brightly on the sidelines, clapping, lens flare nearly blocking the entire view. "The IMC is proud to present an all-new emergent technology…" The children began running to their parents: one little girl to one couple, a little boy to another couple, each time the camera panning up from the child's level to the parents' as they lifted their progeny into their arms. "Ladies and gentlemen… humanity's next frontier." As the last child was scooped up by his mother and father, the camera panned, and it was revealed.
The mother and father's heads were gone. In their stead, large metallic boxes sat, wires springing from below and connecting below their shirts. On the fronts, one massive monolithic light each shone straight in the child's face, like a cyclops's eye. The crowd collectively gasped, before suddenly, the holographic screen disappeared, and a woman stepped forward into the light.
"We call it… simulacrum."
Dad pushed forward in his chair, his eyes going wide. He nudged me, and I looked over at him quickly, as he pointed at the stage. Wow, I hadn't even recognized her. Mom had walked forward with such a presence, a confidence with which I hadn't seen her in… well, as long as I could remember. This must have been important to her. Important to everyone, if the video was of any indication.
"My team and I have developed a new neural network algorithm," She pointed to the crowd slyly. "Say that five times fast." The crowd gave a weak collective laugh, and my mom's coy smile widened. "An algorithm that allows external stimuli to be processed, stored, and read in less than a quarter of a femtosecond. For those of you out there doing the math in your heads, don't worry; we've already done it, that's our job." Another weak laugh from the crowd. "This translates to a fully trained network that can operate at over 4 million times the speed of the human brain. And thanks to the work of our brilliant neurosurgeons and signals engineers, along with hundreds of willing volunteer subjects, we have developed a system to train this neural network."
I looked over at Dad, a look of awe growing on my face. It seemed he remembered the speech well enough now, as I even caught him mouthing right along with Mom's words, watching intently. I could see behind Mom that Marder was sitting in the shadows, his PDA lighting up his face. He wasn't even paying attention. Typical. The others sitting near him were at least paying attention. I could barely see them, but like some of the others around, I definitely recognized them. Couldn't place their names, but they were certainly acquaintances or coworkers of Mom's.
A smaller holo-screen appeared right next to Mom, and she stretched out her hand towards it. "With the human consciousness. Your consciousness, your memories-" Her voice grew more and more powerful with each 'your' "-your life…" The edges of her mouth curled upward slyly. "... you. No longer are we bound to the human form: disease, famine, disability will soon be a thing of the past." On the screen, a man laid in a hospital bed, with a woman standing near it. On a screen near him, images flashed just barely quick enough to recognize them: a graduation, a marriage, holding a baby for seemingly the first time, then- a soccer game. I got it now. Just as I suspected, the camera panned down from the woman to the ground, where stood the last child from the previous video. A moment later, the camera panned from the man's bed over to another bed mirroring it, with the same robotic body seen before lying in it. Cutting to a closeup of the 'face', the light suddenly started to come to life. The child ran over to the robotic body, and clutched its hand. After a long, pregnant pause, the robotic hand squeezed the child's hand.
Everyone was transfixed on the screen, even me, that they didn't notice Mom now having a companion on-stage. A very special companion, indeed.
"This is the first prototype of what we call the simulacrum frame." Wait, I think I remembered this part from when Mom and Dad were practicing, right? Wasn't she going to say- "Beginning with our IMC Insiders program members, volunteers can reserve their simulacrum frame starting today." She pursed her lips, and smiled just the same as she had when she told me she was proud of me. "Are you ready to take the first step into the new frontier?"
A generous applause erupted from the crowd, after a short moment of everyone gauging if she was really done speaking. Dad felt the need to stick his fingers in his gob and start whistling, and even from our seats, I could see Mom's cheeks flushing as she tried to pretend like she didn't notice him. After the applause began to die down, I saw Mom squint a little, staring out into the back trying to get a fix on something. After a second or so, she pulled back, brushing it off.
"We've still got a ways to go, folks. Please hold all questions until the end," Mom said, with a smile and finger pointed.
"Ma'am, this needs to be addressed." A woman, with significant indignation in her voice. I turned around to get a glimpse at her, only to find she was closer than I expected. The woman had on a blue suit jacket, and had a recording module in one hand, microphone outstretched in the other. She was slowly working her way up through the crowd; she was quick enough to impose, but slow enough to not disturb anyone around too greatly.
Mom's expression dimmed, but she maintained a smile. She started nervously glancing at her colleagues sitting near her on-stage. More than a few of them just grimaced awkwardly, and one just motioned for her to fully address the oncoming reporter. Mom shook her head, and looked to the reporter like she was about to address her. She didn't have to.
"Kalia Jensen. Free Frontier News Network?" She framed it like a question, as if everyone was already supposed to know who she was. "If you're training a machine to be you, doesn't that mean that it really isn't you? That you're just creating an imitation of the real thing?"
"I don't suppose you'd like us to provide you with the complete source code?" Marder stood up, laboriously, and moved center stage. A nervous laugh echoed washed through the crowd. "Perhaps the blueprints for the simulacrum frame? Or better yet, should we freely award you IMC stock?"
"Mr. Marder, I don't see how that-"
"General. Marder. And I must insist that you do not proclaim to understand the intricacies of this novel technology within minutes of its revelation." He wasn't fooling around. While his face remained stony, his voice was conveying all the degradation and condescension needed to understand his ire.
Suddenly, another reporter stood, this one wearing seemingly identical garb to Kalia Jensen. He was further in the back (perhaps that's why no one had noticed his matching outfit and pointed it out yet), and was shouting out to the stage. "It's plain to see what this really is - it's another heinous technology founded on lies and empty promises to-"
"Security!" Marder trailed off with his yell, turning away almost dismissively. "We will not allow you to spew your blatant propaganda here."
"They have the right to speak!" Another man, younger, in the same sort of outfit, stood up. This one was further up, but on the opposite side.
Yet another stood, on our side, even closer, wielding an angry expression and a violent, accusatory pointed finger. "How many dead memories are being usurped by these abominations?"
Kalia Jensen was already being apprehended by security, and she struggled to yell up toward the stage as a couple of burly men in black jackets apprehended her. "How many? How many had to die for you?"
Mom, who was already retreating, a look of distress on her face, had her arms raised at her sides like she was ready to run off from a predator. She didn't know how to answer. "This- this isn't-"
"Get them all out. Anyone in those blue jackets, please, officers." Marder didn't even turn around again to address the security. His back was to the crowd as he drew a deep breath, and an annoyed applause erupted from the crowd. "And I want the names of whoever let them in!" The applause lessened, as people shifted awkwardly.
It was only a few moments before everyone in blue jackets was being whisked away, Once all we could see were their backs, the crowd erupted into applause again. Marder, now with an aire of satisfaction, turned to Mom. Her face was bright red; I knew she wasn't used to all this excitement. Hopefully it wasn't too much, otherwise she-
"I, uh," she began, trying to retake her presence on the stage. Her voice was beginning to falter, like she had something stuck in her throat but wasn't bothering to clear it. "Uh, we've been working diligently to bring this product to market. Our analysts' current projections are… are…" Dad was still mouthing along to the words, but slowed to a stop. His expression grew more concerned and attentive, just as Mom's grew more grave.
There was something about that expression. Something I wasn't supposed to like. Why couldn't I remember what was wrong?
The stage was all but gone now. Am I focusing too hard on Mom? Where's Dad?
Where's anybody?
Mom looked back up, her face now more serious and direct. "This isn't for me." She looked down, and shook her head. "It never was. There's…" She was hesitant. Something was really, really wrong, but I couldn't… I can't-
"It's for you."
She looked straight at me. But it's like, she wasn't looking at me. Like she was looking through me; speaking to me, but only to something she thought was me.
And somehow, in this void of only her and me… I felt...
"This is my last wish: that your last wish, is to be better. Like I couldn't be."
...I felt like I still couldn't be that something.
As quickly as the whole ordeal started, it was over. Mom was back on stage, and staring out at the crowd expectantly. I just barely caught a glimpse of a holographic display disappearing. Marder was still sat at the back of the stage, still fiddling with his PDA. Where were we? When were we? What's going on?
And there he was. Not Marder; now, on stage, in the shadows, was the man. The one I had bumped into earlier, the one that no one else could see. I knew him, though, didn't I? Didn't I have to? The only ones on-stage were-
"How many? How many had to die for you?!"
What?
I stood, and turned back. There they all were, but not as they once were.
All of them bore the visage of the strange out-of-place man, heads cocked awkwardly to the side like their necks were broken, staring me down with their eyes open just ever so slightly too much.
The whole crowd was looking at me, especially Dad, as I had burst out of my chair. I whipped around, and looked at Mom. I couldn't read her expression; some mix of surprise and tenderness.
The man on-stage just smiled, and he stepped up to the podium. Mom seemed to notice him now, as did everyone else.
He reached into his jacket, and produced a small pistol, extending his arm fully and pointing it straight at Mom's head. Her eyes crossed as he lined it up between them, and they widened as she realized what was happening before her. The man just smiled. His doppelgangers around did, too. Dad was one of them, now, staring at me with that odd smile on his face.
Bang.