SHADES
By Eric Kenvin
A pain burned through my mind like a fire. I could almost smell the expenditure of electricity as my neurons re-wired themselves back to their proper configuration. I thought I’d be used to this by now, but you can never get used to the feeling of a shade hangover . I could barely move in my bed until my sense of motion started recalibrating and the room started spinning. The only thing I could think was, “Not on the floor” over and over as I fell out of bed and stumbled toward the bathroom. It felt like there was a swarm of fire ants in my stomach trying to make their way up my esophagus. I finally made it to the toilet and grasped the porcelain bowl with one hand as I felt the sting of bile in the back of my throat. After hurling a few drops of viscous yellow liquid into the bowl, I went to the sink to brush my teeth and wash the acidic tinge from my mouth. My head felt like it was under water, everything felt distant and muted like I was only half there, half awake, and half alive. Even after all the times I’ve woken up like this, I couldn’t help but think “Why do I keep doing this to myself?” Then I looked up, and caught sight of a man in his early 30’s with unkempt black hair, and sharp, angled features. There was a drop of blood dripping from his left nostril and his dead blue eyes were staring directly into mine. I remembered why. After recognizing my face in the mirror I looked at it with contempt and said “Shit, I’m me again.”
I could feel that caffeine itch coming on, so I went downstairs and grabbed a frappuchino from the fridge. I kept trying to remember last night, but every time I got close to something, a sharp pain struck my frontal lobe. I assumed that my brain was still coping with the shock from the re-arrangement process, and decided to forget about it until later. “It’s is now 2PM. You’re late for work again Jason,” chimed Catherine, the apartment’s AGI. Her voice was supposed to be soothing, but right now it felt like it was grating against the inside of my skull. “Shut up Catherine, I lost my job on Monday remember?” I replied, rubbing the bridge of my nose and trying to ignore my headache. “I’m sorry Jason, but you haven’t been home for several days. Is everything ok?” she asked. “Days? What’s today’s date?” I asked looking up suspiciously at the black semi-spherical dome on the ceiling, as if that was really Catherine’s face. “Wednesday, February 21st, 2065,” her voice sounded back, more mechanical this time as if reading from a list of words that didn’t really fit together. “3 days this time… that must’ve been some dosage. What the hell was I doing?” I thought.
I went back upstairs and was getting dressed when my cell rang. The contact info said it was Raz from the security office. We had gone out drinking before, and I know he used shade occasionally. I wasn’t really in the mood to chat, but I picked it up anyway; he might have a clue as to where I’d been for the past three days. “Hey Raz, what’s up?” my voice still sounded a little gravelly. His voice was hushed and hurried “This ain’t Raz, but you gotta trust me. Get outta there now, they’re coming.” My head was still pretty fuzzy, so I didn’t pay too much attention to his warning. “Well who the hell is this then? Who’s coming? Why should I trus—“ before I could finish my sentence there was a loud bang at my door. I looked over the railing and saw a small silver canister for an instant before everything flashed white. I tried to head for the fire escape, but lost my balance and ended up crashing into the wall. Looking back towards the staircase, I just caught a glimpse of a police officer before the tazer went off and I slipped into blackness.
I must’ve only been out for a few seconds, because when I came to I was being cuffed. I wanted to yell, “Wait you’ve got the wrong guy! What the hell did I even do?” but I was too disoriented and it just came out as indistinguishable, garbled sounds. The police officer standing in front of me was already reciting “Jason Wagner, you are under arrest for unlawful infiltration into government databases, destruction of public property, conspiracy, and terrorism against the state.” Before I knew it, I was being dragged out of my door and down the stairs.
Outside I looked up at the steely grey sky and felt a few drops of cold rain trickle on my face. “Terrorism?” I thought to myself. “Yeah, I’m pissed off about the way things are right now, but who isn’t? I was happy with my distracted, blunted life until last Monday. Still, I don’t think losing my job would make me resort to terrorism… unless it was the shade.” They threw me into the back of one of the squad cars and the female officer who tazed me in my apartment looked to the others and said “Don’t worry, I’ve got it under control.” “Are you sure? You still look a little… shady,” said another of the officers eyeing her suspiciously. “Get off my case Baxter, now’s not the time. You know I kicked that habit months ago anyway. Test me if you want.” She replied, as she got into the car and slammed the door. There were three squad cars in total, but the one I was in left the apartment building last. We were driving more slowly than I would’ve expected.
The officer looked at me in the rearview mirror and said “We’re in some deep shit here my friend.” “Um, friend? You just tazed and arrested me,” I replied, confused. “Yeah, well if you didn’t fuck up your job we wouldn’t be in this mess,” she said, making eye contact. “What’s this we business? It’s pretty clear that I’m the one going to a holding cell here.” I said back. “Things are never clear at first glance. From where I’m sitting, we’ve got the same face, and it’s my job to make sure I don’t go to jail.” She must’ve been taking shade, but why would I have a shade? The usual configs were celebrities or supermodels, not some jobless software engineer[ER2] . “The rest of the shades did their part, but it almost seemed like you wanted to get caught. You were so sloppy you made the script kiddies look like elites. Lit up the warning grid like fucking Christmas.” “Whoa slow down, I can’t even remember where I was for the last three days. What the hell is going on, and why are there shades of me running around doing god knows what?“ My mind was racing faster than my mouth could move. “Shit, you really have no clue do you?” She paused for a second and looked at my face. “Alright, I don’t know the whole story, we each had a specific job wired into our shade’s config . My role was to make sure none of us got caught. Guess what,” she paused, “you got caught.” “Caught doing what?” I asked in desperation. She replied nonchalantly, “The only thing I know is that the target was the digital currency database. I don’t know why or how, I guess my role didn’t require those details.” Still frustrated, I said, “And I guess my role didn’t require any details? My shade ended this morning right before you found me. If what you’re saying is true that can’t be a coincidence. I was either set up, or there was something wrong with the dosage I took.” “Either way, there’s not much I can do for you except let you off soon before the other blue boys figure out what’s going on,” she said as she pulled into an alley.
She opened the door for me and unlocked my cuffs. She was about to drive away she looked out her window and said “Let’s hope for both our sakes it’s not something wrong with the dosage, ‘cause if that’s the case we’re all screwed. If I were you, I’d go back to your dealer, see what he knows about it,” she said. “You read my mind,” I said as she closed the window and drove away. I started walking towards the opposite end of the alley. It was time to figure out what the hell was going on.
I stuck to the alleyways to avoid the intersection cameras. Facial recognition software was implemented when I was a freshman in college; found in my first week after a night of underage drinking. That was my first time waking up in a cell, and wouldn’t be my last. It only took about 30 minutes to get to my dealer’s place. Most AGIs were programmed to contact the police at the first sign of illegal activity, so we always conducted business on the roof in a homemade greenhouse. Fresh food was so hard to come by these days, she must’ve made nearly as much from that greenhouse as she did selling shades. I thought that just walking in the front door and taking the elevator might be a little risky, so I climbed up the rusty fire escape. The door to the greenhouse was unlocked, and it was as safe a place as any to lay low while I waited for Kristen, my dealer.
Shade, known as charatrope in the medical community, was first developed about 15 years ago as a quick fix for mental disorders and “troublemakers”. When it first came out, it seemed like a miracle and was hailed as the biggest medical breakthrough since penicillin. Everything from autism to schizophrenia, even multiple personality disorder could be cured overnight. It was even used as an alternative to a prison sentence for habitual criminals. What a lot of people didn’t realize was that once it was used, the user’s brain was literally re-wired. They would immediately begin to think and act exactly like a different person. There were only a few configurations at first, modeled after ideal members of society, but it quickly evolved. It wasn’t long before it was being used recreationally. The idea of literally becoming someone else was attractive to a lot of people, and most street configs were even wired to see physical appearances differently. Medical configs were designed to take additional doses before the first wore out, but street shades could vary anywhere between half an hour to half a day, or as I learned recently, up to 3 days.
It was about two hours before I saw Kristen come out onto the roof. She must’ve just been tending to the garden because she was alone. I didn’t know how old she was, but Kristen looked like a haggard old woman. Her blonde hair was dirty and tangled, and it seemed as if she always wore the same moth eaten, yellowish-white t-shirt. She had the mannerisms of a fortune teller, looking down at others through her black framed spectacles, and always observant enough to say the right things at the right time.
I didn’t want to surprise her so I stood up and walked toward the door to greet her. “Jason? What are you doing here?” she asked. I tried to make my hurried voice sound unthreatening as I said, “I’ve got some questions about the last dosage I bought. I was apparently out for three days, I can’t remember anything, and this morning--” “Woah! Slow down, I ain’t even had my coffee yet,” she said as she looked at me like a disappointed grandmother. She shook her head and looked at me over her black rimmed glasses as she said “You know I don’t make the stuff. I just sell it, so what do you want from me?” I tried to calm myself down as I said “I just want some information. That dose apparently made me do some spooky shit, and now I’m wanted for terrorism and some other serious felonies. Anything you can do to help…” “Hmm, that was you on the news then… They said some ‘American restoration’ group tried to mess up the digital currency databases. Said they exploited shades, that there might be some still runnin’ around…” She looked me up and down, then walked over to a bird bath in the center of the greenhouse and said “Come ‘ere a second. Take a look in here and tell me what you see.” The water in the concrete basin was still and reflected my face like a mirror. “I just see me. Black hair, bloodshot blue eyes, same thing I see every day in the mirror.” Kristen sighed and said “Yeah, except you’ve got blonde hair. That explains the memory loss too, you’re not hung over. You’re a shade.”
I looked again. It was the same. I was still Jason. “That can’t be right, I’m Jason. You said it yourself when you walked in and saw me,” I said, trying to make sense of everything. “Same name maybe, but a different face, different memories.” She seemed so calm, and I felt like I was going crazy. How could I still be Jason, but have a different face? Why would I have the same name, but have different memories? What part did I play in this terrorist plot, and why can’t I remember any of it? I didn’t need this, I needed answers and I wasn’t going to get them here. “Who’s your supplier?” I asked, trying to focus. “You said you just sell the stuff, but where do you get it from? They might know more.” She cracked a bit of a smirk and said “Aah, finally thinking. Unfortunately, I don’t get it from someone, I get it from somewhere. There’s a clinic downtown with a low bridge nearby. A friend of mine worked out a deal with one of the doctors there a while back. I leave some cash on top of the arch of the bridge there, and the next day he leaves some doses for me to pick up.” “Where is this clinic?” I asked. I was getting impatient. I didn’t know when the dosage would wear off and I wanted to get answers by then. “24th and Chestnut. Just be careful, the blue boys have been on edge lately.” “Yeah,” I said as I was about to turn she said “Wait a second, you’d better take this.” She reached under one of the tables, pulled out a small revolver and handed it to me. “Great, now the cops have a reason to shoot me if they find me,” I said with a hint of sarcasm. “Trust me on this kid, if you’re going to get into that clinic without getting noticed, you’ll need it,” she said, walking out of the greenhouse, and leaving me standing there with the revolver. I think I knew what she meant. I didn’t like it, but it was time to get some answers.
The clinic was close to my apartment, so it wasn’t too hard to retrace my steps. As I walked toward the building on Chestnut street, I could see a sign reading “Harmony Health Clinic” on the side of the thirty story white building. I could see a switchback staircase leading down to 24th street past a side entrance to the clinic, so I took it and found the bridge. This was definitely the place, but I still hadn’t figured out a good way to get inside, or how to find Kristen’s supplier. I could guess what security was like inside, and there were only two ways I was getting in without arousing suspicion: as a doctor, or as a patient. I felt the revolver tucked into the back of my pants, and cringed at the thought that passed through my mind. The sun was just beginning to set and it was reflecting off of a window right into my eyes, so I went under the bridge and leaned against the side wall. With my back against the side of the bridge I took out the revolver and aimed at my left foot. I pulled back the hammer slowly and tried to point the barrel at the center of my foot as to avoid hitting my toes or ankle. I was about to pull the trigger when I thought I heard someone coming down the stairs, so I slowly released the hammer.
“Yeah, I’ll be home in an hour or so. I got out a little early today, so I’m gonna stop at the bar for happy hour while it still lasts. Work was hell today, we had at least 4 ODs…” It must’ve been shift change. I came up with a new plan fast. I knew the sun would be blinding when he came out of the tunnel, and he would be distracted by his cell, so I waited, crouched just around the corner. My grip got tighter around the barrel of the revolver as his footsteps got closer. My heart was racing, and I heard him hang up his cell. Finally he emerged from the tunnel, blocking the sun from his eyes with his left arm. Two steps later he didn’t see me. I exploded toward him and brought down the handle of the revolver, connecting with the base of his skull. He collapsed without a sound and I looked around for witnesses, but there wasn’t anyone in sight.
The doctor was still in his scrubs, and there were no noticeable evidence that he had been attacked. I dragged him into the tunnel and took his clothes. There was an ID badge attached to the lapel, reading “Stephen Smith”. As I changed into the scrubs, I realized I had no idea who this was. I didn’t know where in the clinic he worked, what kind of person he was, or why he would go back in after leaving early. It was too late to change my plan now, I would just have to improvise. I finished changing and tucked the revolver into the back of my pants again. I went back up the staircase, this time stopping at the side door. As I approached, the door made a clicking noise and unlocked, probably the ID card. The door opened in on a hallway lined with white doors. To the right was the security desk, but luckily for me the clerk on duty had her eyes away from me on the waiting room. I walked forward to see if I recognized the names on any of the offices. No luck in the first hall, so I took a left at the end. There was another doctor coming down the hallway towards me, so I tried to avoid eye contact and pretend to be deep in thought. As he came closer he stopped and said “Jason?” He put his hand on my shoulder so I looked up at him and I thought I recognized his face. The feeling was like seeing a familiar actor in a movie, but not being able to recall where you had seen them before. “What the hell are you doing here?” he whispered. “Come on, in here quick.” I was at a loss for words, the only thing I could do was walk through the door. “Sit down, I’ll be right back,” he said, turning around and leaving.
I sat on the sterile green examination table, waiting for him to come back. This man recognized me, the real me, and he probably had the answers I sought. As I surveyed the room, I caught sight of a mirror reflecting a strange fuzzy figure. I stood up to take a closer look, the fuzzy figure also stood up. It was me reflected in the mirror, but trying to recognize it was like a color blind man trying to distinguish between green and brown. The shade was almost done its course, I needed to get answers fast. The door opened and the doctor walked in. “How do you know me?” I asked, grabbing his lab coat. “You’ve been coming here for over a month,” he gasped for air. “Helping you plan-- for the attack.” His fat spectacled face was flushed, but I could tell he was trying to stay calm. “Jesus Jason, let me go!” I released him. “Sorry, I just want some answers. I can’t remember the past three days and my shade is wearing off. What--” he interrupted me in mid sentence. “I know the shade is wearing off Jason, I made it. There’s no use in lying to you,” he was speaking quickly. “You came to me two months ago with a plan to use shades to hack the digital currency databases, and destroy all of the digital currency. You kept trying to convince me that the banks were manipulating the economy, trying to turn us into wage slaves or some nonsense. I tried to ignore you at first, but you wouldn’t leave me alone, threatened my life, my family. I was the only doctor here with the knowhow to actually manufacture shade, so I decided to put an end to it.” Finally things started to make sense. “You set me up!“ I grabbed the gun in the back of my pants and pointed it at the doctor. “I had no choice Jason. If I cooperated, I would lose everything I had! Everyone would! I had to engineer your shade to get caught, take the fall. If I didn’t you would just try it again. Your idealism blinded you.” I was trying to aim at him, but things were starting to get blurry, I ended up collapsing on the examination table. “I’m sorry Jason, the police are on their way. You shouldn’t have come back here.” It felt like my head was sinking under water, everything was in a haze, and the last thing I remembered before blacking out was the sound of sirens.
A pain burned through my mind like a fire. I could almost smell the expenditure of electricity as my neurons re-wired themselves back to their proper configuration. I thought I’d be used to this by now, but you can never get used to the feeling of a shade hangover. I stared at the ceiling of my holding cell and the only thing I could think was, “Why am I in a holding cell?” I heard my name and tilted my head towards the source. There was a computer monitor visible through the bars, and it was tuned in to the news. “Jason Wagner, age 32, was arrested yesterday evening in relation to Tuesday’s attack on the currency database. He is believed to be the mastermind behind the attack, although police are skeptical, saying quote ‘It was too easy, it was almost like he wanted to be caught.’ A date for the trial has not yet been set, but all evidence points to Wagner. Although the outcome is not clear, the swift resolution to this terrorist act is sure to bolster confidence in the department of homeland security. Even through Wagner seems like the obvious culprit, police are still pursuing other leads.” I felt like I was going to be sick. Where did I go wrong? The plan was perfect, but I was betrayed. If I had only just done it myself, I might not be in jail now. That wasn’t it though, I was myself. Shade was a part of my life. Even if I thought I was someone else, it was still me. I was the one who failed. I had no more excuses, no way to keep running from myself. I stared at the bars, and realized that I finally had to face the consequences of my own actions.
No comments:
Post a Comment