The softwire : Virus on Orbis 1 Page 9

  Dressed in snotty radiation gel and rubber padding, I stood at the sorting bays and watched as new junk replaced any signs of the Renaissance. I recovered an ancient O-dat keyboard, seven platinum screws, and one Khoolan field generator. Weegin rewarded me with half a chit.

  This is what they do with a softwire? I thought. So much for all the fuss. On the Renaissance, Mother had taught us things like theoretical mathematics, organic chemistry, and even a little about dimensional supergravity. All of that was wasted on Weegin. To him we were nothing more than drones assigned to a task to increase profitability.

  During one spoke at the center for Culture, Wisdom, and Comprehension, I attempted to talk to one of the child Citizens. I overheard them on the tram talking about another central-computer malfunction. I hoped to get more details, but the green-eyed alien only called me a knudnik and slid away the moment I opened my mouth.

  As phases passed, and one set became three, I settled into my new routine without resistance, but my life felt boring, even pointless. I learned to sidestep Weegin and avoid any penalty from the knobby little worm by dealing quickly with any glitches in the central computer. If the central computer was so great, why did it mess up so many times?

  The chits we earned were useless, since there was no place to spend them, and the absence of the contest tank was a big deal for some. Switzer’s contempt turned to anger, and I, for one, could not blame him this time. The sleepers became a way of escape, and most kids went to bed early and napped during their rec cycles. I went to bed early, too, but I avoided the dream-enhancement equipment. I only spent my dreams chasing Ketheria when I used it.

  One sleep spoke, shortly after the blue lights from the sleepers faded, Theodore tapped on the lid of my sleeper.

  “C’mon, Johnny,” Theodore whispered.

  “What’s going on?”

  “Birth Day,” he said.

  I had completely forgotten. And it was even Ketheria’s Birth Day. I got out of my sleeper, careful not to wake Switzer or Dalton.

  “Should we wake them?” Theodore asked.

  I shook my head, and we slipped into the common room. Most of the other children were already there. Grace had managed to steal some food tablets and was filling up glasses with water.

  “Happy Birth Day, Ketheria,” I said to her. She stood by herself near the makeshift food table. In fact, we all just stood around staring at one another. No one was sure what to do. What was normally one of the happiest days for us on the seed-ship, filled with friends and laughter, was now reduced to a few of us sneaking water and fake-food supplements in the middle of the night.

  “It’s pretty sad, isn’t it?” Theodore said. “I kind of feel bad for her. What a lousy Birth Day.”

  Ketheria simply stared out the window, emotionless. I couldn’t tell if she was upset or not.

  “I wanna go back to my sleeper,” said one boy.

  “Me, too,” said another kid.

  “Wait — what about presents?” Grace said. “That’ll be fun.”

  “I didn’t make one,” the kid said. “What’s the sense?”

  I put my arm around Ketheria. “C’mon, I know it’s not much, but it’s still Birth —”

  An alarm ripped through the common room, cutting me off.

  “Let’s get out of here!” someone yelled. “We woke up Weegin.”

  But I wasn’t sure that was it. The entire room was exploding with red and yellow warning lights, just like the social studies class had when I messed with the computer.

  I leaned toward Theodore and said, “Something’s wrong with the central computer.”

  “It doesn’t matter. I’m not gonna let Weegin find me up,” he replied, and bolted out of the room. We found the doors leading to the sleepers already open.

  Theodore said, “Something’s not right,” as he groped around for his plastic pajamas.

  “What’s going on?” Dalton said, pushing back the lid of his sleeper.

  “Shut up and go back to sleep,” Switzer grumbled, still trying to sleep.

  “Get up,” Dalton told him.

  Switzer pushed back the lid reluctantly and sat up. He looked around the room and said, “What did you do now, split-screen?”

  I ignored him and went into the foyer.

  “Where are you going?” Theodore asked, now back in his pajamas.

  Switzer jumped off his sleeper and pushed past me. “To see what’s going on — what do you think, Malone?”

  “I don’t think we should do that,” Theodore said.

  “I want to see what’s wrong. C’mon, let’s check it out,” I told him.

  “Well, if you go, I’m not going to stay here by myself,” Theodore said, and all four of us, including Dalton, crept out into the factory.

  The robots in the sorting bay were going berserk.

  The massive cranes were flinging the giant bins across the room like toy blocks. The containers exploded against the wall, scattering their contents everywhere. Scavenger robots scurried to clean up the mess, but the deranged sorters crushed them in the mayhem.

  I rushed to an O-dat and tried to make the cranes stop. I accessed the local computer network, but it was a mess. It seemed like every program in the system was attacking another program. Nothing was in order, and all of the files were either crumbling or had already been destroyed. Only small pieces floated past my mind’s eye as I tried to interface with the computer. I frantically searched for something to do.

  “COMPUTER, STOP! STOP, COMPUTER!” Weegin screamed, running into the bay. He saw the flying debris and ducked, barely escaping a metal crate.

  Weegin dodged the metal monsters while trying unsuc cessfully to shut them down. Then there was the noise. A molar-grinding kind of noise. It was the same noise I had heard on the Renaissance the day of the docking accident. Even Weegin, who constantly denied the computer’s fallibility, would now have to admit something was wrong.

  Several other robots scampered back and forth among the fallen cargo, trying to avoid being crushed. Weegin grabbed a skinny robot and heaved him toward the most violent crane.

  “Make it stop!” Weegin demanded.

  But the robot did not know what to do. Before it could get out of the way again, one of the cranes scooped it up and threw it out the energy-field portal and into outer space.

  Another crane hurled a crate over my head, just missing me. I ducked around a corner and hid from the machine. I may not have liked Weegin’s World, but it was still my home and it was being destroyed. Do something! I struggled to access the computer from where I hid. I closed my eyes and concentrated as hard as I could.

  What happened next surprised even me.

  The back of my eyeballs exploded into a ring of brilliant blue light. Instead of seeing the files in my mind’s eye, my eyelids melted away and exposed the complex mechanics of the computer. It was as if I had pushed my head inside and physically entered the central computer. I felt a rush of electricity across my skin, exploring my face as though something was trying to read me. The horrible noise outside quieted, and soon I was able to see things much more clearly. The colors inside the computer were as bright as in my first nightmare.

  Then I saw a small figure, cloaked in radiant green electrons, running through the files. The creature was crushing the files by throwing balls of green fire, which it pulled from its robe. The figure moved like a human, but I could not see its face. Only its eyes pierced the shadow of its hood. I’ve seen those eyes before, I thought.

  “Hey, what are you doing?” I yelled.

  The evil thing . . . program — whatever — stopped and looked at me. It cocked its head to the side, pausing. Then it ran straight at me, hoisting up two balls of green fire, ready to strike. I disconnected immediately, and everything in the sorting bay stopped at once.

  Weegin peered out from under a pile of rubbish. The gigantic room was in shambles. I sat under the terminal, trying to figure out what had just happened. Weegin was glaring at me with an awful
scowl. His lips flickered back, exposing his fangs. It would take Weegin a very long time to get everything working again, and it would cost him a fortune.

  “I told you I didn’t do anything. I swear,” I pleaded as Weegin interrogated me in the common room. The other kids stood behind him, against the wall.

  “I told you, no swearing. Half a chit.”

  I rolled my eyes. I told the story over and over again, but Weegin would not believe me.

  “I’m not stupid. I knew morale was down, but you did not have to destroy the place. Now you won’t be able to work, but I will still have to take care of you. All of you.”

  “But the computer — there’s something —”

  “The central computer does not fail, or Orbis 1 would fail!” Weegin screamed. His voice escalated into a high-pitched squeal, and globs of yellowed spit gathered in the corner of his mouth. “We would stop spinning and float off into space, or, worse, get sucked through the wormhole!”

  “He is right, Johnny.”

  “Theylor!” I stood and moved toward Theylor, who had just arrived. “I didn’t do anything,” I tried to tell him.

  “Calm down,” Theylor said. “The central computer has record of your sleeper being operated, but not the dream enhancer.”

  “I don’t like that thing,” I told him.

  “That’s not a good enough excuse!” Weegin screamed. “You could have activated the sleeper and then crept out of your room to destroy my sorting bay.”

  “That will be enough yelling, Joca Krig Weegin. Johnny, the central computer has a record of two people leaving your sleeping quarters prior to the mishap,” Theylor said, turning to me.

  I paused. “We . . .” I thought about Birth Day. I looked at the others. Grace slowly shook her head.

  “See, see!” Weegin was twitching uncontrollably. “He’s trying to cover something up.”

  “I am not!” I turned to Theylor. “There’s something wrong with the central computer. There’s something inside, but I stopped it,” I said.

  “Stopped what, Johnny?” Theylor asked.

  I looked at Weegin and then at Theylor. They would never believe I saw some sort of program, or a virus, even, running through their precious computer and destroying things at will.

  “Nothing,” I said. “The sorting bay was already going crazy before we got there. Ask anyone.”

  Theylor looked at the kids.

  “He’s done it before, you know,” Switzer said.

  “What a malf. You’re such a liar!” I said.

  “Done what?” Weegin demanded. “Let him speak.”

  “But he’s —” I said.

  Theylor raised his hand.

  “During our first social studies class, he shut down the entire study hall because of something he wasn’t supposed to do with the computer,” Switzer said.

  “Is this true?” Theylor asked.

  “Yes, but —”

  “And something bad happened to him,” Switzer said, pointing to Theodore. “They had to carry him away.”

  I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Theodore looked at Switzer with astonishment.

  “Is this true, Theodore?” Theylor asked.

  Theodore didn’t know where to look. “Well . . . I mean . . . I was . . . we . . .” He turned to Switzer. “That’s not the way it happened!”

  “Answer the question!” Weegin screamed.

  Theodore looked at me and said, “I think so, Theylor. I was unconscious. I’m sorry, JT.”

  Weegin almost lifted off the ground. “And you’ve been lying to me about the doors failing around here!” Weegin yelled. “You’re more trouble than you’re worth, Softwire.” He launched at my throat, dropping his walking stick on the way.

  Theylor moved quickly. He raised his right hand, and Weegin froze in midair with his knobby three-fingered hands extended and an expression of pure contempt locked on his face. “I am sorry, Johnny, but this is for your own protection.” Theylor turned and waved his left arm over me.

  Silence.

  I could see Theodore shouting, but I could not hear him. A cloud of milky green fog blurred everything in my path. Ketheria ran toward me, but for some reason she could not get near. Even Switzer looked shocked. When I reached out, the fog felt as hard as rubber. I was floating in some sort of green bubble that hovered just above the ground as Theylor interacted with the O-dat on his wrist.

  “Theylor! What’s going on?” I pounded my fists on the green bubble.

  But no one seemed to hear me. Ketheria grabbed at Theylor’s robe as two security drones arrived and pushed me toward the exit.

  “Ketheria!” I shouted. “Let me talk to my sister!” I struggled to push the bubble in the opposite direction, but that did nothing.

  There was commotion everywhere, and Theylor was trying to calm the children. I was worried about Ketheria now. She would be by herself. Wherever they were taking me, I hoped it wasn’t far.

  The two security drones guided the bubble through a maze of corridors and a system of light chutes, before placing it in a sparkling purple stream of light. Everything flashed white for a nanosecond, and then I was somewhere else. Then more security drones attached my bubble to the belly of a spaceway pod. No one spoke to me or even looked at me.

  It was the longest ride I ever took on the spaceway. I did not know where I was going, but I hoped it was close enough for my sister to visit me. Though I had already gone so far that that seemed impossible now.

  I sat on the floor of my green bubble and watched the stars go by. I thought of Switzer. He had betrayed me so easily. I was just trying to make things work. A large yellow star winked at me from a hundred light-years away. I fell asleep dreaming about what life would be like in that solar system — or any solar system, actually — just anywhere but here.

  “Johnny? Wake up, Johnny.”

  I opened my eyes slowly. The green fog was gone. Where did they take me? I stretched, examining my new surroundings. My security bubble had been replaced by a large transparent blue box — four walls, one sleeper, one chair, one O-dat, and no pillow. Theylor stood in the corner of the small cell.

  “Where am I, Theylor?”

  “You are at the Center for Science and Research,” he said.

  I walked to the edge of my cell and gazed out. I saw a mountain of blue boxes, stacked on top of one another and clinging to the cylindrical walls like chips on a circuit board. A gigantic crystal globe hung from the ceiling, far overhead, bathing everything in a rose-colored glow. I looked up and there was a blue box above me; to my right was another. The blue cell to my left contained an alien that was nothing more than a pin of light floating around the room. Below me was another box. Straight ahead of me, across an empty chasm, was an entire wall of blue boxes. I was surrounded by thousands of these transparent blue cells in a cylindrical enclosure. A giant zoo of unknown species stacked together for what — protection? From whom? I was scared.

  “Why am I here, Theylor?” I tapped at the O-dat. Nothing. I tried to access it by pushing in with my mind, but still nothing. Its power was off.

  “This is where we will do your testing,” he replied.

  “I didn’t do anything wrong, Theylor. I don’t need to be tested.”

  “I’m going to be your observer,” Theylor said. Ignoring my protest, he stepped aside. The back wall of my cell vanished, and Theylor now stood in the larger room that had replaced it. Where did that come from?

  I walked the length of the new room. It was wider than my cell. That couldn’t be right. I checked it again.

  “Don’t worry, Johnny. This will be your examination room. The effect you are experiencing is called dimensional displacement — a slight illusion,” said Theylor, watching what I was doing. “It’s difficult to comprehend.”

  “I’m not stupid, Theylor.”

  “I am aware of that. I think you are extremely intelligent. Yet the human mind has difficulties comprehending certain things outside its own experience. Consider
an Earth painting, for example.”

  “Sorry, I’ve never seen a real painting,” I told him.

  “Then think of a digi, a photographic representation of a moment in time.”

  “All right, a photo of what?”

  “Imagine that in this photograph there is a person holding a bucket.”

  “Okay.”

  “Can you tell me what is at the bottom of the bucket?” he asked me.

  “I don’t know — water?”

  “Do not guess. Try to look inside that bucket.”

  “I can’t,” I said. “A digi consists of only two dimensions.”

  “Precisely — height and width. No matter how someone holds the digi, or photo, they will never see what is at the bottom of the bucket. And if you lived in that digi, you would have great difficulties comprehending the third dimension of depth because you would never have experienced it. You can only theorize about it.”

  “What does that have to do with this room?”

  “Its size exists to suit our needs. The cell — or room, I should say — next to yours has a similar room that is the exact same size.”

  “That’s impossible.”

  “It is not impossible if you think outside the digi, Johnny. That is part of what you will learn during our tests,” Theylor said.

  “Learn?”

  “You must learn to break the mind patterns that have dominated human life. These mind patterns have created indescribable suffering on a cosmic scale.”

  “I don’t —”

  “Your mind is an exquisite instrument if used wisely. Used wrongly it can be very destructive.”

  “I’m just a kid. I don’t even know what I want to do when I grow up.”

  “Johnny Turnbull.” Theylor moved toward me and lowered his voice. He directed me to sit with him at the table. “Others on Orbis are . . . afraid of you.”