Hacking Existence - 1

Brain_Stem[17:45]: I killed her

Brain_Stem[17:45]: she was just there, and i didnt ecxpet her, and I shot her and she died

Brain_Stem[17:45]: she died.

Brain_Stem[17:46]: her blood was on my hands

Brain_Stem[17:46]: I killed her.

Night_Watcher[17:46]: Who? Who did you kill? What are you talking about?

Brain_Stem[17:47]: She's dead. I killed Fair_Weather's girl. I tried to stop the bleeding, but I felt her heart stop.

OK. Now what am I supposed to do with this? He killed her? What does that mean? Who is she? What was she doing? And why didn't the program treat her like a normal person when she died? Why did it let her bleed to death, instead of just placing her in observer mode? I've got to check the logs.

Night_Watcher[17:49]: When did you kill her?

Brain_Stem[17:49]: She's dead. I shot her.

Continue reading "Howell Clarke"

Tommy started. "I'm sorry," he said. "What did you say?"

"Are you sure you're OK, Dr. Xiang? You're acting kind of weird today."

"Yeah, I'm OK. Just a little bit worried about some things that are going on at home."

"Oh. Yeah, I know how that goes. Sometimes, no matter how hard we try, we just can't manage to keep the different pieces of our life from overlapping. I guess that's part of being human, isn't it? Wouldn't it be nice if we could just have a place to escape? Someplace we could go that was unaffected by everyday life?"

"That would be nice." Tommy sighed. You have no idea how nice it would be, he thought. I used to have that. But now it's all unraveling. It's coming apart, and all I can do is stand and watch it come apart.

"You did it again."

"Sorry, did what?"

"Disappeared. It's like you're going off into some distant world. You're just not yourself today."

Tommy rubbed his temples. "I promise you, I won't disappear again." I won't disappear for a few hours, anyway, he thought. "I'll stay here with you. I'm sorry that I let things affect me so much."

"Hey, don't worry about it. We all have days like that."
Continue reading "Tommy Xiang"

He showed up on one of the few days when Howell decided to go to class. I was sitting in our room, working on a paper for my anthropology class when I heard a soft tapping on the door. I opened it to see the detective from the federal police standing there. Without waiting for me to invite him in, he pushed into the room, looking over his shoulder as he did so.

"It's become more serious."

"What do you mean?"

"We used to be able to detect it whenever your roommate entered one of his virtual environments. Now, it seems, he's found a way to disguise it so that it looks like normal network traffic. We're sure that he still uses the environments--things like that are very addictive, and he has no reason to stop, but over the past few weeks, we've only been able to detect him using them on very rare occasions."

"So what?"

"We need to know when he's going into the environments. We're going to hide a camera, and put a keystroke logger on his system. That way, we can keep track of his comings and goings, and hopefully, we can find out how he's hiding his tracks from us."

"If you were going to do this, why didn't you just come in when I wasn't here? Why did you come and tell me about it?"


Continue reading "Keb Jones"

I was almost tempted to go check her campsite without him. I knew the forest environment so well that I was sure I could get there and be back by the time Night_Watcher finished choosing a body. Once I got into the environment, though, all temptations to go anywhere without him disappeared. Every noise, the rustle of leaves in the wind, the sound of moving animals, even the far-off roar of the waterfall seemed hostile. I stood there, waiting for him, trying not to jump at every unexpected noise.

He appeared as an indistinct shimmer that gradually solidified into his customary body. He gave me a weak half grin, and we walked into the trees, glad of each other's companionship, but unwilling to create discomfort by mentioning it. It didn't take us long to reach the clearing.

I stood at the edge of the clearing and breathed a sigh of relief. A faint scattering of ashes testified that my story, while improbable, was true. Night_Watcher stared down at them, unspeaking. Sinking down on his haunches, he sifted the ashes between his fingers, allowing them to drift on the wind. He looked over his shoulder at me. Several times, it looked like he was going to speak, but he never managed to say anything. Finally, he turned his gaze back to the ashes.

I jumped when he stood up quickly and began circling the ashes with rapid, jerky steps. Without looking up, he began to speak. "You're sure that you didn't build this fire? I mean, could you have built it while you were sleepwalking or something?"

"I guess it's possible. I doubt it, but it's possible."

Continue reading "Macon Craig"

Night_Watcher[23:37]: Do you think you'll ever go back?

Fair_Weather_Friend[23:38]: I don't know. I've tried going back in. I'm always scared now. It's not fun, or relaxing, like it used to be.

Night_Watcher[23:38]: Yeah, I know what you mean. Even though I know it's safe, I'm really jumpy whenever I go in. It's been a couple of weeks since I've been in.

Fair_Weather_Friend[23:46]: I just thought of something. I was going to ask you about it, but I kind of forgot about it with all of the mess that night.

He doesn't even have to specify which night. He just says "that night," and both of us know which night he's talking about . I don't think any of us will ever forget that night.

After I uploaded that level, I went into the forest level to sleep. I woke up because I heard a girl singing. I saw her. She touched me.

Night_Watcher[23:47]: She touched you? I think you were dreaming :)

Fair_Weather_Friend[23:47]: No, I'm serious. She was there. She built a fire. I'll bet the ashes are still there.

Night_Watcher[23:48]: Where did she touch you?

Fair_Weather_Friend[23:53]: She beat the crap out of me, OK? It wasn't anything pretty. Continue reading "Howell Clarke"

The call ended. I slid my phone back into my pocket. I was hungry. Famished in fact. I walked downstairs into the kitchen. As I savored my Moose Tracks ice cream, I heard Brain_Stem's voice, "Well, I'll probably starve to death before anybody breaks into my apartment and finds me . . . " I finished the ice cream, and sat down to see what was on TV. I flipped from channel to channel, searching for something worth watching, but as I did, I kept hearing Brain_Stem saying "I'll see you in there." No, he wouldn't. Night_Watcher meant nothing to me. He wasn't my friend. He was just . . . I stood up. I knew nothing about rescuing anyone.

It took me longer than usual to choose a body. Which body would be most suitable for a rescue? Did I need strength, speed, lots of cool gadgets? What was I even rescuing him from? Finally, I chose one of the newest bodies. It was modeled on Indiana Jones. Well, maybe more like what Indiana Jones would be like if Harrison Ford were on steroids.

I stepped out into the environment. "I AM GOOD," I said, looking around in astonishment at my own work. I saw someone, a huge, heavily muscled hulk of a man, standing nearby. He looked up as I approached.

"You made it."

"I didn't want to."

"That's ok. I didn't either."

"So, where is he?"

"I don't know yet."

We began walking around the environment, taking care to never let the other out of our sight.

"I'm glad you're here," he said.

"Yeah. I mean no. I mean, I'm glad you're here too. I'm not real glad that I'm here, though." We crept silently down the subway tunnel. I'm not sure why we were being so quiet. "What do you think it will look like?"

"I don't know. I think a train's coming." I looked behind us. I didn't see anything coming, but I did feel the ground vibrating beneath my boots. Continue reading "Macon Craig"

Tommy knew that Fair_Weather_Friend didn't want to talk to him. He knew that he didn't like him. But he also had a pretty good idea what Night_Watcher was going through. He had seen patients writhe in pain when a few nerves began firing randomly. Half the nerves in Night_Watcher's body were probably firing right now. At least, that's what his brain would think.

"Well?"

"I'm running the check right now. Ok. It's finished. Everything looks good."

"Ok copy the new file over the top of the old one."

"It says, 'Access Denied: the file is currently in use or read-only'."

"Oh no. No." He felt panic climbing within him, clawing at his stomach, twisting and churning inside of him.

"Can't I just go unplug him? He doesn't live too far from me."

"No, we haven't finished the system that allows for an externally initiated offload. If you just unplug him, it will destroy his short-term memory. And who knows what else it will do."

"Why are we doing this?" Tommy could tell that Fair_Weather_Friend was frightened. He was frightened himself. But they were frightened for different reasons.
Continue reading "Tommy Xiang"

Fair_Weather's really outdone himself this time. This is an amazing environment. He's an arrogant, obnoxious little idiot, but he's good. I remember the first environments, the ones I tried to render. They made Miss Pacman look sophisticated. This is just unbelievable. I just wish I could get the AI stuff to really work well. It would be awesome to fight some huge battles in here. Well, it would be awesome as long as I didn't get gut-shot in the opening minute, like I did last time. That really---check out this subway! Electrified rails, grafitti on the walls, working trains, this is so cool. That's weird. I wonder if that vibration's caused by the train. It seems to be getting stronger in this direction. A lot stronger. And now there's wind, too. I wonder if he put a tornado in this level or something. I'll have to tell him that it didn't quite work right--I shouldn't be able to feel a tornado when I'm underground, exploring the subway system. It's more than a vibration now. It's like--that hurts. I'm going to get out of here. I need to tell Fair_Weather that something's wrong with this environment. Whoa! That's weird. It's like the ground's crawling. If I stand still, I still keep moving in that direction. It's moving faster now. I should be able to outrun it, though.

---

I can't keep up. I just can't do it. I'm going to collapse here pretty soon. The pain's getting worse, and I've got a cramp and it's a good thing that this isn't real life. I'd never be able to run like this in real life. But I'm not getting anywhere. This thing, whatever it is, it's going to get me. I'm gonna die. What will happen to me? Will it be like the Matrix? Will I die in real life? I've died before. But that was part of the program. It knew how to handle that. It knew that I would be placed in observer mode as soon as I received a fatal wound. Does it know how to handle this?

---

Get up. You have to get up. I can't. The pain. It's just too much. It's like, like, like I'm being torn apart and stabbed, and lit on fire and -- I can't see myself. I can't see anything. I'm blind. All there is, all I am is pain.

Tommy stared at the screen blankly, listening as the watch on his alarm rang. After nearly a minute he stood, and walked mechanically toward the door of his apartment, dialing his cell phone as he did so. It rang, and rang, and rang. Finally, the impersonal tone of the voice mail reached his ears.

"Your call has been forwarded to an automatic voice message system."

The soft, feminine voice was interrupted by a rather high-pitched, nervous sounding male voice. "Make Craig."

After a momentary pause the feminine voice continued.

"To send a numeric page, press five. To leave a voice message, please record after the tone." Tommy heard the low beeping tone, and slumped in defeat. He pressed the end button just as the elevator doors opened, depositing him in the well-kept lobby of his apartment building. Outside, rain poured down, just like the weatherman had predicted. Tommy looked down at his umbrella, hanging from the crook of his left arm. He looked at his phone. Its screen dimmed automatically, the call finished.

He heaved a deep sigh. Why wasn't Fair_Weather_Friend answering? He had to answer his phone. They had promised each other that they would. It was the only insurance that they had. They had even made it so that people could get calls when they were inside of the environments. Why wasn't he answering?
Continue reading "Tommy Xiang"

I waited for a response. Howell began to thrash more violently; between gasps for breath, he started to moan. Suddenly, he stopped moving completely. He stiffened, straightening out like a plank so that only his shoulders touched the chair. I reached past him and began typing.

Night_Watcher[5:27]: Where are you? Aren't you going to do anything?

Again I waited. Finally, the reply.

Brain_Stem[5:31]: I'm a doctor. I'll take care of this. It may take some time, though. If you feel uncomfortable watching your roommate, you may want to leave. He'll be fine soon.

This was the last straw. I stalked out of the room, slamming the door behind me. I barely tasted my scrambled eggs and blueberry yogurt. Not that there was much to taste--food at the dorm's cafeteria is hardly five-star fare. By the time I had finished my breakfast, I had made a decision. Howell had to go.

The detective looked at me over the top of his clasped hands. "Yes, we know about your friend, Howell. He's been causing some ripples in the online communities, making ridiculous claims about the ability to create alternate realities."

"You mean virtual reality?"

Continue reading "Keb Jones"

Yes, that's right. My name's Macon. Yes, I do hate my parents. I mean, what kind of parents name their son Macon? It's like condemning your child to eternal torture especially if that child is, well, not fat, but a little bit overweight. And that's just kindergarten. But you're not here to listen to me whine about my past, are you? So, let me get back to where we were.

How did this all start? Well, it all started the day that I decided to cut class. It wasn't the first time. In fact, it was supposed to be the last time, because if I got caught cutting class one more time, I wouldn't be able to graduate. So there I was, sitting in the media room with a friend of mine. We were both working on special effects for a movie that we'd been making after school, even though both of us were supposed to be in Geometry class. I heard his instant messenger chime. He stopped work to read the message.

"Hey Make."

"Yeah?"

"You still playing with those 3D rendering programs?"

"Yeah, you should see some of the stuff I'm coming up with. Finished one last night that makes Lauren look bad."

"Nice. You gonna bring it in?"

His IM chimed again, interrupting my thoughts about Lauren, and the um, enhanced version of her that I had finished the night before.

"You should come talk to this guy. He's looking for someone who's looking for a good time, and who's good with 3D rendering."

"Cool."

Continue reading "Macon Craig"

Just as they did every morning, Tommy Xiang's eyes opened two minutes before his alarm clock was scheduled to ring. He flicked the alarm off before it had a chance to ring; there was no need to disturb the peace of the morning with its raucous call. He set his clothes on the counter in the bathroom, arranging them in the order that he would put them on when he got out of the shower. Briefs, socks, pants, shirt. The shoes went on the floor--no telling what was on them after walking around the hospital. He set the water to 99 degrees, waited a moment for the temperature to stabilize, and stepped into the shower. The triclosan-tinged scent of antibacterial soap filled his nostrils as he carefully washed the skin around his interface implant. The SudaSkin edges of the implant had bonded well with his own skin, but he saw no reason to risk infection.

Continue reading "Tommy Xiang"

If I had known that I was going to be living with this, I probably would have forked over the extra money and gotten my own room. It's not the mess. I can handle the mess. I mean, it's not my favorite thing, and I would prefer that he was clean, but I'm not going to lose my temper over some clutter on the floor and an unmade bed. It's this thing he does. When I came home tonight, he was sitting at his computer. Well, sitting's probably not the right word. His head was down on the desk, and he was fast asleep, drooling on his keyboard. He says that he only sleeps about 4 hours a night, but I'd be willing to bet that if you added up all of the times that he falls asleep in class, he sleeps almost as much as I do. Then, around three o' clock, I woke up, and he was sitting up.

He's got some kind of weird implant on the back of his head. He has kind of a mullet so that his hair covers it up, but when he's plugged in, it looks like he's in the Matrix. Right now, he's sitting in his chair, with this massive cable poking out of the back of his head. He twitches every now and then, and sometimes he starts thrashing around. It's driving me nuts. It's worse than living with a druggie. I'd even be happier if he was bringing a different girl home every night. It's just creepy to me. I'm not sure what to do about it. I've tried reporting him, but they just look at me like I'm crazy.

I wonder if he's even going to class. He looks like he hasn't left that chair in days. I swear he wore those clothes yesterday. And probably the day before, too. Maybe I can find a way to get him kicked out. If it looks like he's breaking the rules, even if he isn't, I could get rid of him. That would be nice.

Oh no, something's wrong! He looks like he's having a seizure. What do I do? Can I just unplug him? Or is there something I have to do? His computer's not responding. What's this? Someone's trying to send him a message. Some guy named Brain_Stem.

Brain_Stem [5:12]: We've got to get a hold of Fair_Weather_Friend. There's a flaw in the latest environment render. It's a good thing I decided to check it before I loaded it; this one looks like it could be really painful.

Night_Watcher [5:12]: Hes not here. Im his roommate. He's plugged in and I dont know what to do he's htrashing around like hes having a seizure. What do I do