Memory Clouds (The Circuit Book 1), page 9
There was something intoxicatingly endearing about Sister Dinah that made Jake warm to her. She said what she wanted without the slightest embarrassment, did what she wanted without ever feeling restricted, and wasn’t ashamed to express her feelings whenever she had them. It was just this life-affirming spirit that he needed today to keep his morale up. It definitely wasn’t going to be offered by the stuffy-nosed Brother Job whom Jake was starting to despise, irrespective of him owning personality traits that existed in some deep abyss of his soul.
“Sister Dinah, I’m not sure you fully appreciate what you are,” said Jake gently.
“Today, I’m an owl.” She tooted in response to Jake’s question.
“You’re a hologram! They don’t eat jelly, build sandcastles or stroke cats,” replied Jake sensitively. “Holograms don’t work like that. The clue is in the name. Hollow!”
Dinah’s hand leapt forward with instinctive anger and slapped his face before flying out the other side. Jake’s other hand moved in symmetry.
“Point taken,” he replied knowingly.
“You didn’t say a hologram couldn’t be an owl, though, did you?” added Dinah, returning effortlessly to her previous state of delirium.
“No. You can be an owl if you want to.”
Dinah grinned and he immediately felt a glimmer of happiness fight back against the overwhelming sense of remorse and sadness.
He got out of bed before he was forcibly removed by the odd couple. There wasn’t much reason to avoid the inevitable anyway. He had to leave at some point today whether he liked it or not, and right now he felt leaving quickly might be better for all concerned. His sister and grandfather hated him, his parents were no longer accessible, visibly or virtually, and his girlfriend was grieving his departure. What more damage could he do here? On the off chance she was still awake, Jake sent Christie a message to her cloud feed. If he was forced to leave before the sun’s rays struggled to pierce the smog at least he might get the chance to say goodbye.
Job finished compiling his packing list and was directing Dinah to locate the items that might be hiding in Jake’s messy bedroom.
“What’s this for?” asked Dinah, pointing at a small, black silicon device with a handle at one end and a series of strange-shaped grills on the other.
“It’s my laser hair remover, it’s for shaving beards.”
“But you don’t have a beard,” replied Dinah quizzically.
“That’s because I use it.”
Dinah shook her head and Job crossed it off the list.
“Will I have any say about what gets packed?”
“Yes, of course,” replied Job, “if it’s on my list.”
“That’s not a say, that’s just a coincidence.”
“If you like.”
He didn’t much.
“Now get on with it, Jake, no time to lose.”
“I have the rest of my life to lose,” he said, sliding onto the mood carpet which instantly changed from a light blue colour to a dark red.
“I’ll call out the items on the list and you can pack them in your compaction-case.”
“Oh, it’ll be like a game,” giggled Dinah.
“If it helps,” said Job who wasn’t the slightest interested in games of any sort.
“Fine,” Jake sighed.
“And do it neatly,” demanded Job.
“Give me a chance, I haven’t even started and you’re telling me off.”
The compaction-case was a recent addition to the Montana family’s holiday essentials. Packing had always been a tiresome chore before they’d upgraded to one. There were always more items you wanted to pack, never enough space available and miserly limits set by travel firms as to how much you could bring with you. The trams, the only form of transport that Jake had taken in the last decade, were particularly strict with their weight limits. When it was lying empty on the floor the compaction-case looked like any normal-sized suitcase and was packed in much the same way as holidaymakers had done for years. The innovation came at the end. A button on the side triggered an internal vacuum which sucked the air out of the case and dragged the sides inward toward the centre. By the end of the procedure the case was no bigger than a small school rucksack. It was a marvellous piece of engineering but ineffective if you were transporting anything made of glass.
“First on the list, clothes,” announced Brother Job.
“What am I meant to wear in Sweden? What’s it like there?”
“Cold.”
“Like normal winter or Solar Winter?”
“Haven’t you looked it up?”
“I’ve had other things on my mind.”
“Worse than Solar Winter.”
“How can it be worse than that?”
“I think it’s best described as ‘where have my testicles gone?’ cold,” replied Job graphically. “And all year around, too.”
“Brilliant. I’ll leave the shorts behind, then.”
Jake grabbed as many of his winter clothes as possible and neatly folded them into the case. New Hampshire wasn’t exactly tropical, but it rarely got cold enough for multiple layers. Occasionally he’d worn his thermal underlayer when the blizzards came to town, but those only happened every three or four years.
“I wouldn’t take that one,” said Job as Jake folded a red jumper and placed it in the case.
“Why not? I love this one.”
“Sam doesn’t like it.”
“What?”
“Yeah, she’s already checked through your things and sent us a list of pre-approved items. That’s not one of them.”
“What about my personal expression?”
“Sadly, that’s not been pre-approved either!”
It was bad enough that he had to marry someone on the other side of the world he’d never met before, but now this Sam character was already making decisions for him. He thought that was the Circuit’s job. Christie would never tell him what to wear. She saw beyond her own personal tastes if it was something Jake felt comfortable in. She liked him for who he was, not what she wanted him to be.
“Why wasn’t I asked to pre-approve Sam’s stuff?”
“You were, it’s just you were too busy chasing speccies, getting violations and defending yourself in a ‘conduct feeling’. The opportunity has expired.”
Jake’s mind returned to his parents’ fate. How were they being treated? Were they together? How had they slept? These questions seemed a lot more important than whether he took his red jumper across the Atlantic Ocean. There had to be a way he could make up for what he’d done. The main problem was he didn’t have the slightest idea how. You didn’t just walk up to the door of the Source and ask for an appointment, especially if you were on the other side of the world. Would his father even welcome him if he did? He’d pretty much disowned him. He gave no more energy to arguing with Job over what he took on the outward journey and packed the rest of his bag on autopilot.
“What’s going to happen to my parents?” asked Jake to Brother Job.
“I don’t know,” snapped Job, lacking interest.
“Don’t know or can’t find out?”
“There’s no point dwelling on it, boy,” said Job flippantly.
“Which suggests you could find out if you wanted to?”
“Maybe.”
“Oh, I know!” said Dinah, her hand bursting into the air to answer the question no one had asked her.
“I forbid you, Dinah,” said Job.
“When’s that ever going to stop me?” she sneered at her brother.
“What harm will it do if she tells me?”
“It’s against the rules.”
“Pfft. Rules. Which of us is holding onto his sense of rebellion?” said Dinah.
“I am,” said Brother Job reluctantly.
“Him!” said Jake in surprise. “That doesn’t seem right.”
“Rebellion is an adapted trait, not a natural one,” replied Job with a degree of shame in his voice.
“So use it, then!” goaded Dinah, winking at Jake.
“Just because I have it doesn’t mean I have to use it. I mean you’re holding fear, but I haven’t seen you use that once.”
“I’m scared of earwigs. There you go, your turn.”
“That’s not fear, that’s just a passive description of a dislike of small insects.”
“Excuse me,” interrupted Jake as his two guides squabbled over who owned which of Jake’s childhood instincts. “My parents?”
“Fine. Just this once.”
“Awesome!” giggled Dinah.
“Unlocking the files now.”
A stream of memories entered into Jake’s feed. They weren’t, as he hoped, from his parents’ perspective, but contained generic memories of people moving around the Source. There was something false about them, as if they’d been staged for the benefit of a placid population unable to see the truth beneath the façade. Prisoners were branded as patients and were shown enjoying the same freedoms that people outside of the Source did. There were large, open spaces in between the large, square, black buildings, plenty of educational options, daily physical exercise classes and a surplus of nutritious food. Like the glossy brochure of a Mexican hotel that turns out in reality to be half built and facing the side of a cliff, Jake didn’t buy the picture for a second. If this was how people were treated at the Source, why were their memory feeds disconnected from their loved ones?
“It’s different than how I imagined it,” stated Jake, trying to restrain his true emotion of scepticism from overflowing into the visible world. Not that it mattered: the Circuit would know how he was feeling about it anyway.
“I’ve also found their case file,” said Job eagerly, apparently rather enjoying the uncharacteristic foray into rebellion.
“What does it say?”
“Oh dear,” he replied. “No point crying over spilt milk, let’s finish the packing.”
“Tell me,” growled Jake.
“It says their term has been set as permanent.”
“Phew,” said Dinah, “for a moment I thought they were in there forever.”
“Something tells me they will be,” sighed Jake. “There must be something we can do?”
“Why don’t I hack into the Circuit’s secure access files?” said Job menacingly.
“Stop. I’m really scared now!” screamed Dinah, her projection shaking nervously.
“Sister Dinah’s right. Let’s not make matters worse than they already are.”
“Fair enough.”
Jake finished packing his case with all the essential items on Job’s list. Mostly he just went along with it but there was some negotiation over whether he took some of the more sensitive mementoes from his childhood. A framed videogram of his family was allowed; a similar one of Christie was not. After much remonstration, and threats that they’d have to physically drag Jake all the way to Sweden, they finally approved his wish to keep hold of an old-fashioned wristwatch that Christie had given him last Christmas.
Once everything was carefully stored the suction on the case did its work. Jake stared at the pitiful size of the life he’d built so far. It wasn’t much to be proud of but at least it was easy to carry.
“I think we’re ready,” said Job. “Let’s go.”
“It’s only three in the morning.”
“Then we’ll beat the crowds.”
“Do the trams even run at this time of night?”
“Yes, it says there’s one an hour on my timetable.”
Jake checked his cloud and was annoyed to affirm it for himself. He’d stalled all he could. If he didn’t comply, they’d probably drag him to Scandinavia by his ears. He grabbed his easy-to-handle case and took a pace towards his bedroom door, which opened without physical touch as it always did. Someone was waiting for him on the other side.
“I thought you might try to sneak off without saying goodbye,” said his grandfather, arms crossed and brow furrowed.
“I haven’t been given much of a choice.”
“I really wanted to wish you luck, Jake, but after yesterday I’m not sure I can.”
“Don’t make me feel more guilty than I…”
“I’m not going to. Instead I’m going to offer you some advice.”
“Fine. It’ll be better than anything these two give me.”
“Where the birds fly, there will always be blue sky. I’ll say no more.”
“I think you might have to if you want me to understand what you’re talking about.”
“It’s a riddle,” added Dinah, unheard by Paddy. “I bloody love a riddle.”
Paddy winked knowingly at Jake. What was it he was trying to tell him? Paddy wasn’t that old, and he’d had plenty of early scans via memory apps to diagnose any potential signs of dementia. All had come back negative. His strange behaviour also wasn’t anything to do with the early time of the morning. Paddy could be heard most nights on his hourly pilgrimage to the toilet along the hall.
“It must have something to do with atmospheric pressure,” said Dinah with certainty. “Otherwise the birds would fall out of the sky, so I’m guessing your grandfather is warning you about the dangers of skydiving in a storm!”
It definitely wasn’t but Dinah’s mad ramblings had at least pointed Jake down the right path. Paddy had always been suspicious of the Circuit, even in the early days. The notion that they were listening continually raised a level of paranoia in him that led to the construction of the code, a way of concealing your messages from prying ears. Paddy had used the code for all manner of purposes down the years. Sometimes it was purely used as a form of entertainment when Jake and Tyra were younger, but occasionally it was used to keep secrets safe from undesirable ears. This was one of the latter. All he had to do was remember how to decipher it.
He loosely remembered how it worked and offered his reply.
“Winter lilies sprout early but take time to bloom,” he said.
Paddy nodded.
“What are you two talking about?” said Brother Job. “I’m literally confuddled by how you use words.”
“Dinah will explain it for you,” said Jake.
“I doubt it, the woman’s mad.”
“Keep well, Jake, and stay in touch. There will be much news to share from both our sides in the coming weeks.”
“You’ll have to plug yourself in,” added Jake with a weak smile.
“When I have to, although I’m sure Tyra will let me know. She’s in the virtual world more than the physical one these days.”
“Say goodbye to her for me, when it’s safe to mention my name, that is.”
“Will do. I’ll get the stairs for you,” said Paddy, switching the escalator to descend.
- Chapter 9 -
Moodzec
The soft glow of fluorescent night lamps bathed Jake’s road with a light green tinge. Channelled by the lines of houses on either side, a biting cold breeze rushed up the street and snapped at his uncovered ears. It was frosty by New Hampshire standards, but it was something he was going to have to get used to when he arrived at his destination. The mangled sulphurous clouds, stinking with the distinctive aroma of rotten eggs, loomed menacingly above him. As might have been predicted at three o’clock in the morning, Jake was the only human currently venturing outside to endure them. He’d desperately hoped it wouldn’t be the case.
But she hadn’t picked up his message.
He checked her proximity tracker to see if there was any movement, fully expecting her flashing dot to be entrenched at her house. There was no signal. How could that be, there was always a signal these days? Had she turned it off? Had she forgotten about him already?
“Job, I can’t locate Christie on my cloud feed, any words of wisdom?”
“Yes, don’t bother trying.”
“Why not?”
“Because the Circuit will have disabled it.”
“Can they do that?”
“They can do anything they want.”
“Ok, but why did they do it?”
“Temptation,” he replied coldly.
The Circuit had thought of everything. No stone would be left unturned in their quest to destroy his life. The inevitability of his plight surged through his body and the only emotion it retrieved was resignation. Brother Job would have been proud of him. Why fight it? The Circuit was bigger and more powerful than he would ever be. After all, he was only superfluous: expendable, disposable, worthless, the very lowest level of importance possible. Which made him consider if that was true, and not just some horrible mistake, why would they spend so much energy on him?
Brother Job leant down and touched his toes before following it up with some light stretching and the occasional lunge. Even though he had no physical body to warm up, Jake swore he heard some of his joints creak. The elderly hologram checked his bearings, played with an imaginary stopwatch, turned purposely to his right and marched briskly down the road.
“Where are you going?” shouted Jake.
“The tram’s this way,” he replied. Even though his projection was now some distance away he didn’t need to raise his voice. It came through clear and crisp in Jake’s mind like he was standing right next to him.
“Wait, let’s race!” shouted Dinah. Her plump torso bobbed mesmerically up and down as she attempted to catch him. It was highly likely that even brisk walking would result in a sure-fire heart attack, if she only owned one.
This was it? Time to leave.
He scanned his estate for the last time. He’d walked down this street so often it felt like part of his anatomy. The carbon rods quietly at rest and waiting patiently in the darkness to return to the gentle humming that accompanied the vital work of keeping everyone breathing. The driveway where his first steps, his first unaided bicycle ride and his last ever car journey had all begun or finished. The ancient sycamore tree in the distance where he and Christie had carved their names and love for each other in the trunk with an old penknife. He’d received a violation for that one, although he never did work out how they’d discovered it was him.
Soon all of what he knew so well would be confined to his cloud feed.
Everyone needed a degree of change in order to grow and prosper. Change is inevitable, with or without the Circuit, but this change was on a scale he never believed possible. Excessive change drives stress, stress drives adrenaline, and his veins were pumped full of the stuff. When the body acted, the mind followed psychosomatically.
