Chapter 7: Total Control

Uncle was staring at the picture all the way. He would only stare through the windshield during turns and anticipated signs of traffic. He picked it up, scanning the two faces that dominated the picture with the splashing sea behind them. There was a young man in his late twenties and a child of about eight years old, missing a middle teeth. He could still remember how Roger was clinging to his feet while he sold sandwiches to people.

"Where the hell did you go, dear boy?" Uncle said with a sigh before he parked near a residence. It seemed that there was a garage for hovering cars as well. Uncle turned the keys backwards before he exited his trailer and climbed up the stairs. The elevator was stuffed with luggage. There was a middle-aged woman with a young girl of about nineteen, Uncle hadn't recognized them. He took the stairs with his quaking palm kissing the side of his pulping heart. He reached the wanted door, hoping that he was not wrong in the address. He knocked on the door.

"Cindy, I said I'm com—" Bob said as he opened the door. Uncle looked at him, his face darkish and depressed.

"Can I help you?" He asked.

"I'm not intending to take much your time, sir. I came to ask about Roger. Have you seen him?"

Bob started stuttering with an extended frown.

"I have no idea, why? What happened?"

"He's been missing for two days. He left without a word and now I can't find him. I asked his only friend, he doesn't know. I'm deeply worried, sir, please tell me the truth, tell me where I can find him."

"I… I don't know, sir. Last time I ever talked to him was before the vacation, we talked a bit and then he left to study. That was one month ago, I haven't heard anything from him ever since."

"Can you help me find him, sir? I heard you are a capable man, at least in this city."

"I'm afraid there is nothing I can do. I don't work in Red Tech anymore; there is literally nothing I can do about it. I wish you find him," Bob said, absorbing his upper lip under the downer one while raising both of his eyebrows. Uncle stared at him in disappointment, taking two steps back before he entered the elevator. Bob went back inside, smashing the door before his fist struck the wall. He sat with his back facing the wall, his hands rested on his knees.

"God damn it, something most have happened to Isaac's son," the man murmured as he spotted his robot butler standing at the center of the corridor in a strange manner. Red lights filled his eyes. It seemed strange, but Bob knew what had happened to the robot once he realized he could not access his interface with his chip. There was only one person capable of being so transcendent to dominate other machines.

"Let me guess, you have something to do with it. Isn't that right, Carl?"

The robot's spun, scanning the emptiness of the house before the wheels rolled towards the window. The sunshine flowed through the empty house and illuminated the butler's skull and frontal torso. Bob stood next to the robot, looking at two young neighbors carrying the bed for the old Cindy. He smiled at the sight of his daughter pulling a strap of her hair behind her right ear.

"Do not think that moving closer to the city's borders will make you illegible to leave it. You are still confined within Garlem," a muffled voice escaped Sylvester's vocal holes. Bob wiped the falling drop of sweat from his forehead. Owinson could hear his breaths, yet Bob could not notice any sort of reaction from his former master.

"Leaving the city was never my intention. Cindy wanted to change, that's all. Now, Carl, tell me what have you done with Isaac's son?"

"Me? Oh, I haven't done anything to him. Well, I did have a small talk with him about a month ago, but I'm not responsible over his current ordeal, directly speaking," Owinson said.

"Current ordeal? Carl, he is not in full control of his power," Bob said, putting his hands on the robot's shoulder before he looked at him right at the glowing balls inside his metal eyes.

"You think I was not aware of what you and Isaac were planning. You think I have not seen how you planted the chip into the young man's mind. Then you foolishly thought that you can hide away from me."

"Where are you now? Do they know that you are no longer in the company's headquarters?"

"I'm everywhere I would wish to be, Bob. I told you that when we built Garlem, only today you realize I was not joking."

Bob looked back at his wife from his window, glancing as she would check her watch while she was waiting for her husband to come down.

"I gave you and that brat's father everything. An opportunity, a career, a whole city! When we were closer than ever to reach our goal, you abandoned us. Don't take me for an emotional; I do understand your motives. But since you took the opposite side, you would not want to get emotional about me trifling with you… and the young man."

"Where is he?" Bob asked with toughness in his voice as if ash covered his vocal cords.

"He is held up in a warehouse east of the city. You might want to hurry. The Pacific doesn't take trespassers lightly," Owinson said.

"A warehouse? The Pacific? Carl! What happened?!" Bob said as he shook his robot before the green lights returned to the robot's eyes, so was his usual voice.

"Sir?" the butler said.

Bob struck the wall with his fist before he strode down the stairs. Cindy and Tamara watched as their hovering car released ripples in the air and rushed into dense air. He waved at his wife while his eyes were directed forwards. He gripped the steering wheel as if he was about to rip it off its place. His finger touched a line of buttons just under the radio platform, releasing a red fire from behind. There was a glitch in the map before a red dot at the very east of the city released red ripples across the whole of the map.

"I see what's happening. Owinson didn't impersonate my robot for an occasional chitchat, nor did he know about Roger's whereabouts by coincidence. He wanted him to fall at the hands of the Pacific and then wished for me to save him," Bob thought.

He took the left turn. The warehouse was within reach, he only needed to stop as soon as possible since that there were not any special parking lots for hovering vehicles. He parked near a beauty shop before he took the elevators down stairs. He immersed himself in an unyielding ground of screen bearers, making his way to the crossroad of rushing vehicles that left no time for a second's breath. He crossed the road in a hurry, looking at the warehouse from afar. There was no questioning that the place belonged to the Pacific, there was a parking truck from which robots pulled Red Tech merchandise. Everyone in the business knew that the Pacific owned a share of Red Tech's products. Bob hid behind the wall as his chip allowed him to release a full linear scan over the place, analyzing patterns of the robots movements around the place. There were the work robots, four wheeled gigantic androids that would lift the heavy crates with Red Tech's stamp on them. There were the flying cubic bots that were decided to be self-movable cameras across the property. Even though Garlem was at its peak of technological advancement, only the richest and trickiest could get her hands on the flying bots. The Final bots were the protection bots, two wheeled bots with two hands the size of a canon each with an intense firepower in each hand. Usually such products were only permitted by the government itself for use, but they somehow were at the grasp of the giants of Red Tech and the Pacific. The government had no say in the matter. There was only one question that mattered.

"Where are the humans?" Bob wondered.

He peeked through a small opening spotting two robots carrying a movable bed atop their metal shoulders as they placed a body, seemingly looking alive, inside the back of the truck and then locked the door behind. A robot was just behind him, his hand turned into a blade and then dug into the air for Bob's head. The old man rolled on the floor.

"I haven't done it in a long time," Bob said as he snarled and dug his fingers into the thing's skull, sensing a current passing by the circuits of his brain, a pain so straining that his eyes were closed and his lips kept twitching. Veins crawled up his stubble-scalped head. Looking behind his shoulders, robots with cannoned hands surrounded the place. Bob hid behind a crate, sensing his heart rumbling with each penetrating bullet behind his cover. Still, the stream was still running in his brain, he could remember the patterns. One of the robots froze in its place at the sight of a sharp bayoneted nanotech sword penetrating through its battery; its tip was dropping the battery juice. Bob took control of it. The other robots shot at Bob's robot, holing the machine yet missing many of its battery and its main interface. The robot's spun; its eyes would have scared the robots if they were to feel. The metallic beast jumped in a zigzagging line, slicing each robot after the other. With each movement, Bob would sense like an electrified hammer fell on his brain, each hit harder than the last one.

His head was raised at the sound of the rolling tires at the other end of the building. He disconnected from the robot's interface before he ran after the truck. Before the vehicle could exit the building, he took a grip of an escaping strap of metal, sensing a fierce wave of wind shaking his grip off. The car was automatically driven. Two small robots climbed up the truck. He had an idea. As he blinked a couple of times and moved his forefinger, a construction machine lowered its wrecking ball and launched the robots in the air. Bob sensed his heart piercing its way out because of the constant beating. He held on into the metal straps, sticking to the truck to avoid a rushing vehicle.

"There must be some way to open the truck from the front," he said as he opened the front door. Before he could yet take a grip of the steering wheel, he watched how an object of a familiar sharpness tore through the windshield; it seemed to be attached to a bigger hole that let its weight fall atop the truck. Bob jumped to the other chair as his chip anticipated a multitude of modeled sharp knives eating the passenger chair and the steering wheel. The next attack was near; Bob threw his leg off the window before he followed it with his body as he gripped two other metal straps, sensing his fingers heating. The passenger door was ripped off its place; Bob managed to climb atop the truck. His bones were creaking.

"Oh dear," Bob said, watching the warehouse robot with the two bayoneting knifes equipped in each hand. He knew he had no power to control the robot again; every override process should take at least hours before newer neurons were feeding up the chip's energy, or so were the first assumptions he and his partner made before they initiated the program. He had to think of a way to shake the robot off. With the navigation system ruined, the truck was heading to a construction site. The robot swung at the old man who anticipated each of the machine's moves, sensing the sharpness of his sight withering the more he used his analytical powers. The chip was put to rest.

"I have to play this one out with wit," Bob murmured. He took a step back before he rushed to the metallic beast, taking a step back once he saw a strap of metal moving through one of one of his holes that embellished his metal chest. His prosthetic arms dug into the rooftop of the truck. Bob placed his feet on the robot's shoulder and pushed him away, leaving a cut through which he saw the body. It was not Roger, it was a doll. It was decoy from the start.

"I was set up," Bob realized. The robot was just behind him, preparing for a fatal strike.

"Owinson must have had something in mind when he hinted that Roger was here. There must be something, I have to—" he thought before he craned his head. He looked back at the robot, scanning every part of its being. His chip shook when he narrowed his focus on the robot's neural interface inside his cracked skull.

"Of course," Bob yelled as he evaded the coming hit and let his palm devour his robot's face. He snarled as he initiated the override again; electricity was plainly seen splashing between the two. Blood passed his lips and then fell down his chin like a river that dropped into the sea. The robot put his arm under Bob's legs and jumped off the truck, saving the old man in the process. They fell on an alley before the truck went down the construction site. Bob was inside the matrix.

As he opened his eyes, he saw himself inside. There were numbers going up and down, interfering with other numbers that were going left and right. Bob was an expert, he knew that each combination of numbers meant a possible pathway. Every robot, excluding those that were designed to work for the police department, designed by Red Tech, carried its landmark in its battery. There was always a hidden connection between every robot within the city's borders, allowing for a chip owner such as Bob or Roger to travel throughout those pathways to look from every robot's side. Still, such an ability required a level of expertise with the chip along with constant and fresh neural nutrition. Beside the whole of it, the user had to break enough walls, walls that could lead to the inevitable downfall.

One of the pathways gave Roger's name, one that was lining up to the northwest of the city. It sent rippling waves like those that were used in the map. Its brightness spread cracks across the pathways, showing a world from a guarding robot's point of view. There seemed to be a sit-down. They were sitting under a dim light and around a large table. Jerry Jackson sat facing Louisa Rain, leaving a man covered by a shade in the middle. There were two other women by the other end accompanied by a man. They were all well-suited. Bob must have managed to see them through a security camera.

"As I was saying, Boss, we really should take a good look at what we are financing. The world is changing, and I reckon we can make profit out of this change too," Louisa said.

"What do you mean?" a voice with a certain level of depth came out of the dark shade. His hand was covering the top part of a cane as his fingers moved like sea waves.

"It is all illustrated in the success of the VR World instead of the brothel. All I want to say is that people are in much care for something intangible, something unreal because it doesn't leave them bounded to anything. The world is heading toward mechanized fakeness. If we direct our resources in furthering this technological process, maybe we can reap something out of it," she went on explaining.

"With all due respect, Louisa, the brothel didn't work well because, frankly, you were not capable of running it. People loved the VR World because it was a running trend, a fashion that will be thrown behind their backs sooner or later," Jerry spoke, raising an eyebrow, a gesture that rattled Louisa's stability, yet she had always kept control.

"Really? You want to tell me that the amount of money we spend on your stupid fight clubs is somehow justified."

"We do use robots, I hope you know that."

"Occasionally, and even if you do, how is no one realizing that fight clubs are becoming a waste of resources and time? The family is wasting a lot of money on these tools. Excuse me, boss, but I dare to say that even the drug business is not worth the amount of supply and smuggling we suffer to carry through."

"What are you talking about, Louisa? The drug business was the reason the family found a way back in Florida. It's such a business that no mob can sacrifice, no matter how advanced times were," Jerry answered.

Silence reigned throughout the room. One would later hear nothing but Louisa's sigh as she stood off her chair with her palms stuck on the table, eyes directed at a specific direction in the dark. She then lifted her hand and snapped, attracting the attention of the boss who leaned forward in attention. His face was fully visible within the zone of the light from Bob's perspective. He was an old man with the face of an antique skull that was slightly covered with a weak white tapestry. His eyes seemed fatigued. His face had a few branches of gray hair, yet nothing too long or visible. Still, it was difficult to recognize what he felt, but there was no way to deny that he was one small leap away from the grave.

A man and a woman walked to the circle of light, pushing a platform similar in size to that of the simulation platform back in the VR World. Branches were all around a young figure inside the platform with a thick needle stuck to his arm, feeding him the serum. Louisa had to keep him alive during a two day trip in the simulation. It was a blessing that his sense of time was meddled with; otherwise his mind would drift apart.

"What is this, Louisa?" the boss asked, following his words with two sharp coughs, wetting his napkin with darkish blood. Some of it dropped on his shoes. Jackson recognized who the figure in the platform was, sensing heat crawling up his neck and temples. God damn it, he thought, I told her not to do this.

Bob knew who the person in the platform was. Roger was in pain while straps and cables were all around his head, glowing every two seconds. Whether he felt what was around or not, none cared and it sure did not matter. Louisa raised her eyebrows for her servants to take a step back in the dark, allowing her to take the spotlight beside the trapped young man.

"Sir, I present to you, Roger Garaldson," Louisa said, pushing the platform closer to the table for all to see.

"Garaldson you say. What use has this young man to me now, Louisa?" The boss asked.

"Bear with me, sir, I shall explain everything. This young man is the future. We're only interested in what's in his mind. Garaldson possesses a chip in his mind that allows him to control technology. Red Tech has something to do with it, but this is not entirely our subject of interest. With this technology, imagine where the family would be from now on if we could make more of this chip, if we get to direct technology in the service of our needs. Imagine a world where the family doesn't have to worry about the feds or about the rival families because we simply control the technologies that help them track us in the first place. We will possess every piece of data on Earth, we can blackmail whoever threatens our safety. Beside our security, we can fully dominate the online business. Listen to me, Boss, this is the chance of a lifetime, trust me with the future of this family and let me lead you all to the future," Louisa spoke with enthusiasm, letting her voice echo throughout the room. Bob was sunk in fear of what he imagined the mob would do to the young Roger for the sake of reaching their goals. The Boss pushed his chair back before he pressed on his cane, walking towards the platform. He raised his hand in denial of the two guards' attempting to help him. His eyes inspired anxiety in the eyes of his followers. As he passed by Jackson, the man stood behind him in a rush, sweat swerving around his eyes and dropping down the ridge of the table.

"Sir, please, you have to listen to me! We cannot guarantee our safety with this technology, we can't just shift the course of our work based on a list of assumptions that we don't know for sure if entirely true. We should stop this before it—" Jerry said before the hushing sound of the boss put a halt to his talk and a smile on Louisa's face. The Boss stood facing the platform, contemplating at the sight of the young Roger inside the machine. His eyes were moving. After a close look, only the boss could tell that the young man wept for a long time during his unconsciousness.

"Boss, this is the face of the future, he is our way out of the past. Just—"

"Shush," the boss said, landing his forefinger closer on his henchwoman's lips. He was not the one to be annoyed though, he felt for someone else. The boss raised his eyebrows as he put his thumb under the young Roger's left eye, wiping yet another falling tear. Somehow, with an old man's tender touch, the young Roger was beginning to calm down, and the movement of his closed eyes was slowing down.

"You keep on talking about what works and what doesn't, each of you believing that you have the power to seal the future of this family. But for the love of God above, can't anyone of you feel that this young man here is in pain?" the boss said, barely able to sustain his unusual empathy.

During those bits of instances, there was a small spark that started to form between Roger and Bob's chips. Bob was capable of reanimating Roger, his response was unguaranteed though. Bob had no choice but to do it; he had to trust Roger the way his father did. He sent the first signal to Roger's mind, resulting in a tough cringe. One of the guards noticed how the young man snarled, how his nostrils widened as a response to a certain stimulus. The boss frowned at the sight of his hand gripping the needle, unplugging the serum from his arm. Bob sent a signal again, and again and again. Roger shrieked, causing the guards to draw their weapons.

Bob sent the last signal to reawaken Roger.

There was a moment of stillness before Roger opened his eyes. With his awakening his hand stretched and gripped the boss by his neck, the boss crumbled in fear of what he saw. There was a light circle around the core of his eyes. Only one thing the boss knew, Roger was not human. Roger yanked the old man into the darkness. He then turned towards the henchmen around the table. The two at the other end of the table escaped the room while Louisa took a few steps back. Roger scanned the situation, moving his head in angles like a battle bot.

"Threat, threat," he kept repeating before his eyes widened at the upcoming guard. He lowered himself and then lifted the giant figure of the guard with his shoulders, landing a heel kick at the back of the man's head on the way down. The guards behind him started shooting while he dodged all of the bullets as if he had already anticipated their paths and the eventual results. He then jumped atop the table and then leaped upon the guard. Roger evaded a punch and then struck the enemy's head into the wall. He struck another guard with his elbow, rolled then struck the other with both of his fists. Roger turned to the last of the guards, watching how the man threw his weapon on the floor and pleaded for mercy.

"Not a threat, not a threat, not a threat," Roger said without raising the tone of his voice. The guard let out a wild cry as he put all his hopes in a swing that was not even successful. Roger held the man's hands in the air, crushing the bones of his hand.

"A threat," he said with a clearer tone. He smote the man, sending him on the floor. He then went atop of him and started landing constant blows on his face.

Jerry looked at his son's best friend from behind a window, feeling disgusted at the sight of Louisa escaping with her tail between her legs. He and another guard pulled the boss away from Roger. He landed more blows upon the poor guard while rehearsing, "A threat! A threat! A threat! A threat!"

His knuckles were embellished with the poor fellow's blood. There was no urge to stop. With every strike, Bob would regret his mistake, his late friend's mistake, the regret of trusting Roger. There was a rain of bullets coming from the door, reinforcements had arrived. Roger turned, twisting the waned fellow's arm before they could all hear the crack and later his screams. He then jumped towards the shooters, exiting the range of the camera and leaving Bob blind of the situation.

Bob opened his eyes to find himself in the hands of the burned robot that saved him from the truck's explosion. He woke up panting in a gloomy alley, holding his head in between his hands after what he had seen. Veins were all around the temples of his face. His nails rubbed the desert of his scalp. Mucus was all around his mouth while he groaned in pain.

What he and Isaac had feared, what the constant breaking of walls would lead to, had happened right in front of his eyes. He had seen Roger become what they feared he would. Owinson was standing by the end of the alley, arms folded as his body seemed like a mere shadow of the whole sun. Bob felt an intense aching at the level of his legs. Before he could land another feet on the ground, he crumbled on his knees vomiting darkish blood on the floor.

"You knew this would happen, didn't you? You filthy snake, that's why you led me to him. You wanted me to reanimate him, now his consciousness is caged inside his mind. He is a freaking robot now, he lost his sense of humanity. He is gone, I promised Isaac to protect him and I failed. You got what you wanted now!"

"Actually, Bob, that was eventual. He kept breaking walls, I wanted to know how many walls he will break before he eventually breaks. Still, he is not gone yet, I still need him intact. It was just a burst of chip control. He is still got a long way ahead of him."

"What does that even mean?"

"It means he can still be saved… today. You have to find him before the mob kills him. He is in another warehouse around the seventh, I really wish you get to him in time before the mob manages to kill him," Owinson said, walking away from Bob. The latter squinted at the sun while he let out a long sigh, wiping a drop of blood from his mouth with his forearm.

"You knew this from the start, didn't you?" he mumbled, looking back to find out that Owinson had vanished. Bob looked forward, flashing two robot patrols speeding in the air.

"Fine, Owinson, I'll play your game. Now, to find the brat!"