Lex - Chapter 2
This is the rewrite of Chapter 2 of "Lex" - bound together from the vignettes I posted here while writing with some significant clarifications, additions and subtractions.
Once again, fair warning - depending on your definition, these may not be work-safe. Don't read if you or your boss is made squeamish by R->NC17 rated material. This story is going to be as gritty, vulgar, sexy, and real as I can make my twisted version the 25th century come across.
Chapter 1 (pdf)
Chapter 2
I awoke cradled in my new stripwear, comfortably nestled in its many arms, just outside the gigantic shining surface of the outside of a city node.
It's amazing how wakings can be so symbolic of change. I'd awoken twice now in unfamiliar settings in the outcity - both times in situations so far different from the staid life I'd lived until so recently. First inside the sleek, silver mobile doctor, feeling rebellious and anxious, and now here, in the waving grass and sun and wind of the wild, feeling calmer than I'd ever remembered feeling.
I began to rise, and the stripwear languidly gathered itself back around me, matching my slow, sleepy movements. I rubbed my eyes, and then my naked scalp, wondering idly when I'd dosed off. The last thing I really remembered was my guide taking me over the edge, and then... It was a blank to me. I chalked it up to my exhaustion, and the relief at the completion of my task. Both my guide and I were free of the Citiverse. Free, and permanently self-exiled.
I stood there, feeling the breeze on my skin, contented in the realization that once freed, far from harming me, my guide had fulfilled one of my deepest fantasies, and granted me real relief for an itch we'd only ever been able to scratch in the hazy world of my enhanced dreams. If I knew him at all, it'd been quite a kick for him too - both to flaunt protocols and convention in that way and to take such overt control in our continuing power play.
In my dreams, I've always held a certain degree of control. My dreams are, after all, thoughts generated by my subconscious, and once lucid inside them, I can often direct the flow of events. Sometimes, of course, my subconscious has overruled in the dream world, my uninhibited Id allowing myself base behavior I would over-think and avoid in conscious thought, acquiescing to perversions I otherwise may have never admitted to myself. At least I wouldn't have admitted them before we began to play, and I'd begun to awaken from the incity brainwashing.
Out here I had a clean slate, and no ones rules to live by but my own, whatever I decided they may be. I fingered the piercings in my ear and adorning my breasts, feeling them out, conscious of the departure they represented from the incity world. They still felt apart from my body, even though the doctor had done a perfect job healing the incisions, my brain still expected my form to be unmarred. This was still as new to me as the rest of the outcity. My thoughts returned to our dreamgames as the piercings rang in with their intense sensations, calling forth the desire which was quickly becoming a trademark of my new life in the outcity. In our dreamgames, I'd had control, and the realization that out here, I had basically none was as sexy as it was scary.
Out here, my guide, my invisible lover, has more power than I could imagine. Guide AIs aren't meant to be unfettered to this degree, especially not outcity. There are so many systems out here, and incity for that matter, that are generations behind his processing power. Beyond that, so many patches have gone uninstalled, so many exploits documented, that nearly any system that wasn't AI maintained was an open door. Even if I hadn't granted him complete access to the permissions for my stripwear and all the rest of the systems in my domain, with his behavioral controls released, he easily could have rooted the tiny embedded kernel and taken access. Odds were, he could take over any system we came across, and probably manipulate most task-based AI's as well.
Out here - he was the one in control.
I breathed deeply, and stretched, practically forcing myself to removed my hands from my privates where they had wandered, and attempting to clear thoughts of the possibilities of being completely in my Guide's control out here in reality, lest I fall into a routine of indulging myself every time I pondered this new turn in our relationship.
It was time to begin thinking about the task at hand. The real reason I was out here.
I had a job to do, and there were a lot of preparations to be made.
At the heart of it, the story of how I got to this point is fairly boring. I was a bored incity kid, posting to my kitschy oldnet blog and ranting about basically anything I could find to rant about. I tended to focus on inane government decisions - groupthink crap that could only have come from our twisted system of forcing the average joe to sit on councils.
I'd gotten semi-popular with the old-net readers, but my audience was limited, and to be perfectly honest, I wasn't writing about anything that groundbreaking. I'd blown open one or two stories about regulations on caloric intake and even forced a review council, but that was the limit of my influence. Typical teenage idealism.
To tell it now, I can't really recall how I came in possession of the document which prompted me to drop out of the incity world completely. I guess whether it was planted or just happened to come up through the random doesn't make a difference at this point. What it implicates is the same either way
Long story short, we're running out of food, and the incity folks are about to steal it from the outers (those who live, either by choice or status, to live outside the citiverse), leave them to starve, and they have no freaking clue. Maybe one or two on the outside had some idea, and maybe that's partly why I'm here. I can't tell you that for certain right now. Bottom line is, I'm going to fix it.
Not just me, of course. It's going to take a lot of us, an army in fact - and I've got a good idea where I'm going to find one.
I have this hunch that I'm not the only kid in the citiverse who isn't completely in sync with the life they force-feed you there. Just coming to terms with my sexuality and my particular fetishes was so contrary to the Utopian doctrine that I felt completely cut off from everyone around me. It seem as though in order to accept the happiness which so many plastic-faced teachers and preachers spewed about, you had to give up your humanity, and all the problems that went with it.
Once in while, I'd see it; that little glimmer in a classmates eye, mindlessly doodling through a lecture, completely detached and forlorn. I wasn't the only one who was lost. There was a generation of kids that were growing up different from their parents and their parents parents. Sick of the city, and sick of that life.
Without a true reason to go against it though, many are afraid of what will become of them once they leave, because usually, it's a one way trip.
The strangest part is that none of our parents seemed to have any problem with incity life. They all seem to be perfectly happy with the “Utopian” life and the perfect world, never looking around them to see what might be happening to make that utopia exist. Maybe it's just that I'm screwed up, and felt out of place surrounded by all that perfection, being a kinky malcontent in the center of utopia - or maybe it's that I've woken up, and there's more to it than just being so docile, so contented.
It didn't take long to find my first bit of trouble, all things considered.
I knew that I was going to rustle some feathers with the stunt I had pulled to get outcity, and that my political grandstanding hadn't made me many friends even when I was part of their little Eden. But at that point I was just a kid with an oldnet blog - by definition obsolete, reveling in my own lack of relevance to the very culture around me. I was pissing a few people off, sure, but I wasn't a threat.
Things were different now. Before, I had tracking monitors and RSS stat-feeds pushing my vitals to my parent's guides, to my friend's buddy lists, to my own guide. Nothing could happen to me without tons of people knowing, instantly. Our information addiction, taken to the most personal extreme, actually kept me quite safe while I was waging my little war of words.
Now, I was outcity. More so than physically being outside of the vast network of city nodes, without my RID or at least a harness, I was completely off their maps. I was gone; lost to them the second my signal flickered out.
"Hello Lex" I heard my guide breath into my ear - his voice slow and scratchy. He sounded as if he'd just woken up from a very contented sleep.
"I was wondering when you were going to come back online" I spoke into the air around me. I saw myself there in my minds eye, at that instant. The image of a girl, almost a woman, standing dwarfed beside the giant wall of the city node, dressed as I was in straps and synthtex, with no earpiece, and speaking to ghosts.
Had anyone been watching, I could have easily been mistaken for a nutcase, one of the fry jobs from an interface gone sour or cracked from stress... Or boredom. I certainly wouldn't have been the first. 150 years is a long time to live, and 20 years is way to fucking long to be a teenager.
I waited for my guide to reply, the wind again picking up and blowing a bit of dust in a lazy cyclone against the surface of the wall that towered above me. I squinted as the mini-twister passed around me, finally closing my eyes and letting it pass as it ambled directly over me.
"There's a lot we have to do" He said, finally, some of the usual vim returning to his voice after being asleep. He didn't go offline often. Usually he only dropped off for a quick reboot, a refresh of his systems. He only went all the way down when he really needed to let his mind work. His real processor works the same way as our subconscious mind, churning away below the surface of his awareness, answering questions he didn't even realize he was asking.
That had been the key to AI, in the end. Back in the early 22nd, quantum computing had made the math of AI possible, but it was all still just simulation. Scarily real simulation, sure, but when it came down to it, the computer knew it was a computer. It knew what was in every register of its memory and was aware of every step of each of the billions of processes it ran in a second. It faked us out pretty well for a while, but it was just too predictable.
What we finally realized was that the answer to the puzzle lie within our own minds. Each of us carries a super computer in the ten pound lump on top of our shoulders, but we don't know it. We don't feel every switch of every synapse, we don't consciously access our memories, we often don't even fully comprehend the way we are solving puzzles. We rely on our internal number cruncher to handle all that for us, and we worry about the high-level stuff. 7+3, no problem. Are we happy, now there's a question.
These questions, the real attention to upper level concerns was the true birth of the guides. Once the concept of linking two supercomputers together - one, the subconscious supercomputer, relative to the intuition of a human genius, the other a simulation driven by the outcome and the status of the systems beneath it.
Take a simple question for a human: was it comfortable. When faced with this question, the supercomputer subconscious had no basis for answering. Frankly, it didn't care. It could give a system status, but that wasn't the same. What was new about the guides was that the second computer actually thought about it without knowing the details of it's own system. It pondered and asked questions of the subconscious, much like we do. Am i comfortable? Well, what does my body say? What do I feel about those answers. Do they matter in the scheme of things today?
The top level guide was driven by urges, needs, desires, which often it didn't fully understand. It took a good long look at what makes us human before we could begin to program AI to feel and act like one. That mystery was the key though. The unknown drive of the subconscious. The secrets hidden deep within the mind.
Centuries have passed, and long gone by the wayside are the questions of the guide's position as a sentient being. When forced to be honest with ourselves, we realized, that we were no more than top level consciousness above some incredible low-level systems. Evolved or created, we had no more claim to life than this thing we had built did.
The questions was academic anyway. We'd kept a benevolent position nearly through the entire birth and growth of true AI, and always kept a watchful eye on the base programming of that underlying subconscious system. We mirrored what we felt necessary of human behavior down to our quirks and idiosyncrasies, allowing each guide instance to have strengths and faults, just as we each do.
Left out were the things we had yet to understand about the human subconscious. The inevitable occurrence of serial-killers and genocidal dictators which left our history pock-marked with tragedy.
Knowing that the guides would never feel driven to do these things, we began to trust them. First for small tasks, then for larger systems. By the time my great-grandparents were born, they were teaching schools, practically raising the children of the all-connected utopia that grew up around this new assisted society.
Guides intrinsically knew right and wrong, and it turned out that they were better teachers of it than we were. With a guide, there was no double standard.
"Lex, it's time. We've got to get moving now" my guide said, urging me to begin the trip into the heart of the outcity.
"I know" I said, softly, as I began to walk in the hazy shadow of the giant arterial transport tube leading from city node to city node. Nearly a mile above me, millions of individual transports were flowing through that system, like blood through a body, swirling around each other in a perfect dance, flowing from one node to another to their destination. The ATS was one of the systems of the citiverse I still appreciated. There was a beauty to the way it mirrored nature, the way it fixed its own mistakes, healed it's own wounds. Riding in a transport was like floating on a peaceful river, awash in the magnetic stream which carried you, weaving your transport around, above, and below other transports, faster and faster towards the center of the stream, and then finally, out to the veins, the capillaries, the docks.
I walked in its shadow for miles, heading towards one of the rural enclaves of life which still exists outside of the citiverse. The forgotten half of our perfect society. My legs should have been hurting by now, as unaccustomed to actual physical exertion as I was. Instead, I was beginning to feel a bit of an endorphin high. The lactic acid inhibitors my guide had installed were already showing their worth; I just hoped I didn't damage my body without it's natural warning system. For now, though, I trusted him, and kept walking.
"Hey Angel" I called out softly to my guide as I walked. It was my name for him, although officially, guides rarely took names. It was short for Archangel, the form he'd taken when we first began to play; when he first began to change, taking my adolescent curiosity and sexuality into account.
"I'm here Lex" he said brightly in my right ear. He had been walking with me, silent and invisible by my side. He could have been off doing anything he wanted now, his consciousness anywhere in the virtual locations of newnet - it was nice to know he was still here, keeping me company for this long walk.
"I need to get trained on this Stripwear still. Can we do any of it while I walk?"
"Hmm..." he said, thinking.
"There are a few things we can do that will at least keep you moving in the right direction, but most of them will require dropping the safeties." he said. I could hear the wry smile on his voice as he told me about the safeguards. He knew what my answer would be.
"Drop em" I said, curtly
"Stripwear safeguards disabled" he said, slightly formally. He was still following most of the protocols for stuff like this. Interesting.
"Okay, what've we got?" I said, eager to try some of the crazy stunts stripwear made possible.
"Well, do you want to start easy, or start with the hard stuff?"
"Your choice, just give me something good."
"Alright" My guide said, laughing a bit at me. "Just don't whine to me if you get hurt"
"Just shut up and give me the commands" I said, steeling myself a bit. I wasn't in the parental nest of my incity world anymore, is certainly wasn't going to be coddled by my guide now that I was out here.
"You got it." He said, as the commands for several routines came up on my dim eyelid terminal. I held my eyes shut for several seconds, memorizing the commands. "If you wanna start big, start with the pop-roll," he continued. "Run into a somersault and hold the position as long as you want. To stop, you've got to pop out, kicking your legs at just the right time. It takes practice, but it's pretty damn awesome."
I didn't waste time saying anything. My stripwear was already active, hovering above my back, and I broke into a dead run. My newly enhanced legs were sending me slicing through the warm breeze, and I dove into a roll, the stripwear catching and forming a ball around me. As it settled in, it gained speed, and I was tumbled over and over inside of it, hurling over the wheat-grass and packed dirt that lined these fields.
Nausea took me quickly, and I kicked out in panic, smashing my face into the dirt, and skidding a good bit as I slowed to a stop.
I brought my hand to my face, lying on my stomach on the ground. I was bruised up pretty good, and my hand came away with a trace or two of crimson, but nothing was broken. I was fine.
I stood up, defiant against the pain i felt welling in my cheek and my right tit where I'd smashed into the ground, kicking out while my face was coming to the front of my spin. I'd have to kick out just as my legs were coming up if I wanted to avoid a repeat performance of my faceplant.
My guide was remaining silent, and for once I was glad. I wiped a trickle of blood from my nose and blew a thick pink snotrocket out in front of me.
Just a little pink. I was fine.
I broke into a run again, nearly surprising myself as I picked up speed and my pain subsided to my adrenaline rush. I jumped, tiger-roll style, into the somersault and picked up speed a good deal quicker this time, grabbing onto my knees to avoid the panic and nausea.
It was still unsettling to tumble hand over foot, but I was counting the flips, waiting for my moment.
As i reached twenty, I prepared to kick, shooting for motion just as my head swung completely upside down.
I kicked out violently, the stripwear reacting instantly and amplifying my pop from the assisted somersault. It was the perfect opposite of my first attempt. I flew into the air feet first, but I had left myself with no forward angle, no arc. I simply flew straight up as my body continued forward, and flailed as I returned to the earth, once again, face-shoulder-tit-arm-hip impacting almost all at once as I skidded to a stop.
I winced, lying on the ground. I rolled my head gently, checking for breaks. Slowly, I lifted myself up onto my arms, and then sat up, taking stock.
I was dizzy, and my upper lip was fat, my nose bleeding full down into my mouth now. I'd also landed neatly on top of my right wrist, and it throbbed as I held it in my left hand. I could move it, but it was sprained pretty good.
I rose to my feet, my right hip complaining from this latest impact. I could feel a smile break out across my beaten face, and spit the dirt and blood.
I grinned stupidly, wiping my arm across my face and snorting in the gunk.
I was surprising myself today.
I broke into a fierce run, once again, pushing my muscles, grunting, swearing, hurling across the plain around me and practically leaped into the roll, one, two, three, four, FIVE!
I kicked out just as my legs crested the top of the roll.
I was sent into a perfect arc, my legs preceding me as I launched forward at a forty-five degree, my body righting itself as I flew. I slammed, skidding in dirt to the ground, feet first, and let my left knee, out in front come up to my chest as I bent half over.
My top half followed the impact, but was caught by the top of my leg, and my right leg doubled under me, dragging as I stopped. I rose, unscathed, more than 300 meters from where I'd stared.
Fucking perfect.
"Whoo!" I screamed, my voice echoing off the ATS tube high above me. I was a mess, but I'd mastered the move, and it was incredible.
What a rush.
"Nicely done, Lex." I heard my guide say in my ear.
"Are you kidding?" I screamed. "That was nothing short of awesome. What was I doing? 80K?"
"67 kilometers an hour, actually. Pretty amazing for a first timer, actually - but that's just be beginning. You'll get better."
"Whatever, that was fantastic. I'd ask what's next, but considering the state I'm in, I don't know if I can handle anything else right at the moment" I said as I looked down at my haggard body, beneath the stripwear. As it moved I could see a patchwork of scrapes and bruises emerging where I'd met the ground.
"Yeah, you're a mess, Lex, but I'm impressed. I didn't know if you'd go again even after the first try" my guide said
"Yeah right, liar. You knew exactly what I'd do, probably even better than I do - that's what you do." I said, jokingly. "by the way... thanks"
"No problem, Lex. You did great. Now lets get you to this village so you can get cleaned up"
"Seriously" I said, walking once again in the shadow of the Arterial Transport. Sweat was pouring off me now, dropping into my fresh cuts and eyes, and my nose continued to bleed lightly. The pain blossomed as the adrenaline failed, but I kept walking in silence.
Pain was still pretty new to me, but not entirely, and it was nothing I couldn't handle. After a while, it faded into the background, like the wind and heat of this endless field.
Years ago, they would have called this place Pennsylvania. Now, it was just the space between city nodes.
The wolf-pack of men and boys nearly snuck up on me as I walked, concentrating on not concentrating on the pain and thinking about my journey so far, and the trip ahead.
I should have expected them, should have been watching for them, but I'd been too lost in my own world to even notice.
They came from behind a pile of industrial waste antiques, although to them, it was probably just industrial waste. Each of them was gaunt and hungry looking, each dangerous. Normally, they'd probably fend for themselves out here, eating off the land, scamming what they could off of other outcity dwellers.
But today wasn't a normal day. A stupid, young, rich, nearly naked girl had just walked into their domain, and I could see the ideas flickering in their eyes.
I'd subbed to my guide before it happened. The first of the wolfpack-men, who had been leading the rest of the group skulking toward me, came at me in a run. He wanted me for himself. He was the alpha.
Good. If I could deal with this one, maybe the others would back off.
I thought about running myself. I was certainly fast enough now, and with my stripwear and the roll, I could out pace these boys easily, but I'd thought too long about it. He was nearly on me now.
I'd prepared for this. As much as one can prepare for anything of this sort that is. I'd been through basic defense training and muscle memory Aikido. My brain instinctually knew to step in and poke just at the instant he tried to seize me.
My two fingers planted firmly beneath his Adam's Apple, he staggered backwards, choking. I hadn't hit hard enough to collapse his trachea, but he had been coming pretty fast.
The alpha fell on his butt, coughing and sputtering. I looked around at the others in the pack, daring them to charge. I knew that if they all came at once, I'd be in some deep shit, and had to act now, or not at all.
"Anyone else want to try it, you're going to have whole big mess on your hands!" I screamed, and subbed to my guide. "gimme something big, anything!"
Suddenly, i felt myself being raised up by the stripwear, it's legs extending my own, it's arms growing out further than mine.
Brilliant. He was putting on a show
I caught on quick, and stomped around a bit, artificially enlarged by the stripwear. It did look pretty menacing, flaring out around me like so many tentacles and extending my body. I stood a few feet above even the biggest of them now, and slammed my "fist" to the ground next to the alpha.
It slapped the ground well enough to startle him and send him, wheezing and still trying to catch his breath, back to his pack. I felt the strips give, and knew I wouldn't have much force hitting them with this, It was all for show. Better make it work.
A few of the others were laughing at the alpha now, who's pride was more than bruised. They were backing off, softening. These weren't bad people, just opportunists. I'd been stupid.
I subbed the command to release the "costume" mode my guide had whipped up, and was lowered to the ground, the stripwear resuming it's active position hovering around me and behind my back. I looked around at the makeshift village, and saw more faces peering from windows and darkened.
"All right. Now that we've made it clear that you're not going to fuck with me." I said, regaining the attention of the now disassembling pack. They'd realized I wasn't easy pickings and fallen apart easily. There was no organization here. "Here's the deal. I obviously need someplace to clean up, and I could use something to eat. I can pay, trade or credit."
"You can come with me" I heard a soft female voice with a light Irish brogue say behind me. I turned to find a woman, probably in her forties, with long, bushy red hair, nearly directly behind me. I hadn't seen her. She could have taken me easily just then, but didn't. She wasn't one of the pack. In fact, as I looked around, I saw with a bit of recognition the look in the eyes of those in the pack.
She was the real leader here.
I looked back in the towards the woman, and saw her walking in the direction of an old, overturned subway car, piled and stacked into what looked like a makeshift building. I followed her, trotting a bit to catch up.
Not too bad, first day out, and I'd already made a friend.
