Memory Clouds (The Circuit Book 1), page 3
None of his childhood misdemeanours were particularly planned or purposeful, but they’d supported and protected him whatever the circumstances. They were the first to stick up for his interests, even when he probably didn’t deserve it. It was true to say they held him to their high standards, which he felt were often impossible to reach, but they meant well even then. As they waited for him to finish his sentence, he tried to express his feelings, but the words and emotions ran for cover, unable to make the jump from the virtual world of his cloud to the visible one where they might appreciate it more.
Kyle gave him a little nudge towards the door before it was forced open from the outside.
Jake sucked in a gulp of air and confidently strode through it. On the other side, hovering perfectly still and making a quiet humming noise, the pink chrome-coloured drone stared back at him. An unseen function analysed his identity before the basket that held the letter dropped down and towards him slightly. As he inched closer the name on the letter reinforced the magnitude of the moment. The drone fixed its small camera on his face and made a noise that suggested it sympathised with how Jake felt but it was also impatient and had other stuff to do.
He stretched out a shaky hand and the tip of his finger touched the paper. It was real. He’d always wondered what paper felt like. Paddy had talked about it, but his description hadn’t done it justice. It was an exhilarating feeling, like the first time he’d kissed Christie or plugged himself into the Dream Centre. He lifted the paper prophecy out of the basket and immediately felt a shadowy presence just behind his right ear. Moments later, a second entity expanded behind his left ear.
A gravelly voice broke his subconscious.
“Strap in, Jake, this is when it gets really interesting!”
- Chapter 3 -
Brother Job and Sister Dinah
The projection of an old man strolled purposely towards the drone and gave the machine a gentle pat with a virtual hand. It slipped through the metallic shell, but the motion was enough for the drone to register some unknown command. Its solar engine hummed gently, and a few seconds later it shot into the murky sky and out of sight. The old man swivelled around with a disapproving look on his face.
Jake knew about the guides, even if he’d not seen one before. Family members had described their own escorts in great detail. There were always two of them, normally a man and a woman. Each one had a unique responsibility in your future development. Although they felt very real to you, they were invisible and unavailable to others in either world. One of the rare times when the Memory Cloud carried a protected programme, locked and secure. The guides were strictly bound to the virtual dimension.
Kyle had described his own guides in glowing terms when Jake asked him about them once. One of them was a tall, twenty-something girl with blonde hair and Amazonian stature. The other cut the pose of a muscly surfer dude, laid-back and interesting. By all accounts they’d been helpful, wise and offered the right words of comfort at times of stress. Jake got the impression his father actually missed their company, and he mourned them like old friends he’d lost contact with. In Kyle’s opinion they had left him too quickly, and before he was ready. Perhaps they thought he’d formed an unhealthy dependency on them?
The guides never indicated how long they would be in your company and their departure was always unexpected. Until the guides decided otherwise, they were a permanent feature of your memory feed and were never far away. Sometimes they’d be close at hand, like the one staring disapprovingly at him right now, or miles away somewhere in the background. But they were always there somewhere, watching and listening. Scott, a cousin of Jake’s who’d been through Ascension Day some years ago, reported that he’d been quite successful at negotiating with them. His guides had agreed to periods of inactivity to allow him private moments when he wanted to navigate the more intimate moments with his new bride.
The scowling face of Jake’s guide suggested he wouldn’t be so easily persuaded.
Although their primary responsibility was always to the Circuit, their appearance, feel and personality were very much a reflection of their host. The ‘sibling programme’ was built into the implants and started running the first day they were fitted. Over the next eighteen years the software coding evolved patiently in the recess of your mind, mirroring and replicating your own unique characteristics and behaviours. No two guides were the same and each was conceived to reflect different sides of your character. One was a reflection of, and represented, your natural, childlike state: curious, feisty, creative, playful, joyous, vulnerable and free-spirited. The other’s personality was influenced by your adapted behavioural state: self-controlled, compliant, rebellious, polite and manipulative. They were the futuristic equivalent of the ‘shoulder angel’ but appeared as high-definition holograms.
“What time do you call this?” demanded the old man.
“What?” said Jake, rather surprised by the apparently scolding.
“It’s twenty past nine. You’re late! We’ve been waiting in there,” he said, pointing a translucent arm broadly in the direction of Jake’s head, “literally for years. Where are your manners?”
“But it’s my birthday.”
“Oh, lah-di-dah! So, he thinks he’s ‘special’, does he?”
If Jake had doubted which part of his psyche the old man represented it was no longer in question.
“Sorry,” whimpered Jake.
“So you should be. Eighteen years we’ve been marinating inside your mind, waiting patiently to come out and help you. What with all the upgrades you’ve had it’s not been much fun for us, you know.”
“At least they weren’t laser-cutting your prefrontal cortex every other year,” he mumbled under his breath.
“Less of your cheek!”
“Huh?”
“You know I can hear everything you say, don’t you? We’re inside you, remember. Nothing you do, think or say will ever escape us.”
“Brilliant,” he replied sarcastically.
“It’s the lowest form of wit,” the old man replied knowingly.
“Is it?”
“Yes. I won’t put up with any insubordination on my watch.”
The only upside of Ascension Day, as Jake saw it, was the chance to gain freedom from your parents’ rules. Finally, he was in a position to make his own choices without worrying about whether they’d approve or not. It was obvious that the guides were a substitute, permanent babysitters who had none of the blind spots he’d often use to manipulate his parents’ decisions.
“If it’s alright with you, Mr Guide, I’m going back inside to open this,” he said, brandishing the letter as a first-class excuse to retreat.
“Job.”
“Yes, I suppose it is.”
“No, not Mr Guide. My name is Job. Brother Job to be precise.”
“Brother Job…can I call you BJ for short?”
“No,” snapped Job.
Somewhere behind Jake someone broke out into a fit of laughter, but as soon as he swivelled around to locate the source it disappeared. He jumped with surprise when he found Brother Job facing him once more.
“How did you do that?”
“Do what?”
“Get over on this side of me so quickly.”
“I’m a projection of your memory feed. You do know how that works, don’t you?” replied Job scathingly. “The cloud goes where you go, and I’m a regular feature until I decide otherwise.”
Jake blushed with embarrassment. Of course, that was how it worked, he thought to himself. Whatever appeared in your cloud stayed there until you swiped it away with your mind, although he was pretty sure that tactic wouldn’t work for the guides. They were as fixed in this world as the trees and mountains were in the real one.
Jake was struck by how much Brother Job physically resembled his grandfather, Paddy. Similar in height, build, hair colour and age, but not in a fashion sense. Job’s was a perverse style all of his own. Everything about it was wrong. Job tapped his foot impatiently. The imagined flip-flops made no audible sound, partly as the floor didn’t exist in his dimension.
“Why are you wearing Bermuda shorts, flip-flops, a Hawaiian shirt, and fancy sunglasses? It’s the middle of Solar Winter.”
“Don’t ask me, this is your party. These clothes came out of your memory bank, not mine. Plus, I’m basically a projected hologram so the outdoor temperature doesn’t really come into it.”
“I don’t like it,” said Jake. “It doesn’t suit your personality.”
“You mean your personality.”
“I’m not wearing it, am I!?”
“Yes, but I’m you, or part of you, so you sort of are.”
“I’d never wear that, EVER!”
“Then where do you think I got it from?” replied Job. “Tell me that.”
Jake wanted to say flashbacks but quickly suppressed the impulse in case it made Job even more judgemental.
“I still don’t like it.”
“Then you’ll have to log a complaint.”
“Ok. How do I do that?”
“You know how the…”
“Right, yes…” he sighed. “I know how the Memory Cloud works!”
Jake scrolled through a virtual menu bar that cascaded down from an area above his forehead. He focused on ‘Help’, then selected ‘Contact Us’ and finally, in the last set of menus, ‘Complain’. It wasn’t a function anyone used very much. The fear associated with disagreeing with the Circuit created a compulsion to threaten it a lot more often than executing it. He logged a short verbal request before logging out of the menu bar.
“What now?”
“Wait…” said Job. “Right, I’ve got it.”
“Got what?”
“Your complaint,” replied Job.
“They go to you?!”
“Yes.”
“Then why did I have to go through all that menu nonsense?”
“Rules.”
“Brilliant,” he said, revisiting sarcasm.
Job tutted loudly in umbrage.
“I think there are enough rules already,” huffed Jake, “and I haven’t even opened the letter yet.”
“I’ve considered your complaint and have decided to act upon it.”
“Oh, right,” he replied with surprise.
“What would you like me to wear instead of this?”
“Anything but that.”
“Right you are.”
“Not that!” screamed Jake, averting his gaze but finding it didn’t block it out. Brother Job was standing in the street wearing what Jake could only describe as a skimpy swimsuit.
“There’s no pleasing some people. What about a fireman’s outfit?”
“No.”
“You love firemen, I checked the backup files.”
“I liked them when I was five! Can’t you just go with jeans and a T-shirt? Please!”
Brother Job morphed into the requested outfit faster than a catwalk model perfecting a costume changeover.
“That’s better.”
“Brother Job is here to please,” he scowled with a deadpan expression and an unconvincing bow.
“Why are you called Brother Job?”
“All guides are named after Bible characters, a sentimental touch by our original developers, I believe. My specific name is symbolic and chosen for you. In the Bible the character known as Job lost God’s protection as a test of his faith. Over the coming months your faith will also be tested.”
“Happy birthday me,” moaned Jake.
“I’m looking forward to it,” replied Job sadistically.
“Why brother, though?”
“Siblings look out for each other, and we are here to watch over you.”
“You’ve obviously not met my sister.”
“Oh, but I have. I’ve got access to all of your memories, don’t forget. Personally, I think you’ve been a little cruel to Tyra down the years if I’m honest.”
“Does your so-called help include judging my every word and action?”
“Yes. But don’t forget my opinions are still your opinions, half of them at least.”
It dawned on Jake that only one of his guides had made a personal appearance. He’d certainly felt the presence of another when he placed his hand on the letter, but he’d not seen or felt her in his feed since.
“Where’s my other guide?” asked Jake.
“Hiding!” came a softly spoken female reply.
“Where?” asked Jake.
“If I told you that then I wouldn’t be hiding, would I!?”
Jake scanned the vista for both real and virtual life. It was Wednesday morning and the street outside his house was completely deserted. Most residents had either left for work, via the electrified trams that passed his house every ten minutes during the prescribed working hours of eight until six, or were already plugged in from home offices. The town of New Hampton Falls was small compared to the sprawling cities that penned it in. It clung to the coastline about forty miles north of Boston, although the trams reached it in less than fifteen minutes these days. The estate he lived on ran in a straight line down the main road. Opposite the front of his house a strip of identical buildings reflected back at him.
All of these buildings had emerged in the last twenty years, driven by the necessity to build more sustainable homes. Regulations demanded that they were constructed from a composite material that was half reclaimed concrete and half high-density ferrocon. Ferrocon had been specifically developed to absorb carbon dioxide from the atmosphere and was a combination of steel dust, sand and laboratory-grown plankton. In front of each house a strip of solar panels led down to the main road. Jake remembered a time when they were concrete driveways where everyone parked their cars. Other than in his Memory Cloud, he hadn’t seen one of those in more than a decade.
In the gaps between the houses a dense forest of carbon rods stood to attention. Beyond that, just out of sight, the river delta cut the land like a lightning strike on its journey to the ocean. Across all of this familiar scenery there was no sight of his second guide, but he certainly heard her. An insane and protracted giggling rebounded around his mind, occasionally changing in pitch and proximity.
“I give up!” shouted Jake.
“I win!”
“If you like.”
“Suckers!”
“Is she always like this?” Jake asked Job with a sigh.
“Probably.”
“Why?”
“Don’t ask me. You’ve only got yourself to blame,” said Job, peering over the top of a virtual tablet that had materialised in his hands. “Can we get on now, Dinah? Jobs to do.”
“Saucy!” She burst out laughing at the innuendo.
“Just come out,” demanded Jake. “I have enough on my plate today without chasing around after a fictitious hologram.”
“I’m very real, thank you.”
“Prove it,” replied Jake, hoping it might tempt her out.
“Don’t spoil my fun. Keep looking for me. I literally won’t stop hiding until you…wow, look…a cat!”
The projection of a woman materialised on the solar driveway of the house next door. She bent down to pet the ginger cat, out for its morning hunt. It completely ignored the newcomer: the Circuit had yet to see the value of equipping felines with their own virtual world. Even if it did have one it still wouldn’t have shown the slightest interest in the woman’s attention.
Jake couldn’t imagine which twisted part of his personality was responsible for generating this peculiar, rather plump, middle-aged woman. Her frizzy red hair stood to attention like she’d suffered from a localised bout of static electricity. Standing about five feet tall and covered in offensively bright, tie-dyed coloured clothes, her broad grin showed off crooked, blackened teeth circled by incredibly brave purple lipstick.
“Jake!” she hollered, attempting to give him a virtual bear-hug. “We’re going to have so much fun.”
“We’re not here to have fun, Sister Dinah, we’re here to make sure Jake follows the rules.”
“Rules are for fools! Let’s invade Tyra’s memory feed and play a prank on her?”
“Are you listening to me?” asked Job.
“Not really.”
“Which of you is in charge?” asked Jake assertively.
“The Circuit,” they replied simultaneously.
“That figures.”
The commotion of his new guides’ arrival drew his attention from the initial reason he was out in the cold street in the first place. His letter.
“What do I do now?” asked Jake, timidly staring nervously at the envelope.
“Go back inside and open it,” directed Job.
“Or…we could make a paper airplane out of it,” added Dinah.
Brother Job scowled.
“What if I don’t like what’s inside?”
“Tough. You’re kind of stuck with it.”
“Can’t I just send you another complaint?”
“You can.”
“Would that work?”
“No.”
“Why not?” asked Jake.
“You signed up to the Circuit like everyone else did,” replied Job sternly. “So, you agreed to it.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Ok, so technically you didn’t sign up, but your grandfather did.”
“What’s that got to do with me?”
“Everything,” scoffed Job. “Did he read the terms and conditions?”
“Does anyone!?” laughed Dinah.
Brother Job raised a hand and projected a wall of text into the sky above them in large-sized font. It was titled ‘Circuit Terms and Conditions’. He scrolled through the virtual pages before stopping on page ninety-four.
