Chapter 15: Brinkins

The basement was sound and still. No sound could be heard apart from the opening of the wooden door after the turning of the keys. There seemed to be that the door was being pushed with effort. Behind the door, light sprawled across all directions, traveling throughout the stairwell towards a dimmer darkness of the basement. The little girl stepped inside, holding her father's key in her gaunt hand. A step after the other, her heart beat in a growing motion as if someone was banging on her chest, sending shivers down her little body. Her hair was tied to her back while she descended wearing her green sleeping robe, her feet into her mother's slippers.

The light from the surface hit a small chair by the threshold of the basement. She put her small chubby hands on it before she heaved her feet, climbing to press the light switch. The neon light illuminated the room, even blinding the little girl for half a second. As her eyes calmed, she descended down the stairs and stood at the center of the basement.

"Wow," she whispered in amazement.

The whole place was colonized by closets, which themselves were nesting with mechanics. There were robot parts, prosthetics, small generators, contact phones, recorders, and even whole computer boxes which were needed to install the algorithm unto the robots. The little girl grabbed a prosthetic arm from a box just under the table, placing it under her left armpit before finding a prosthetic foot and placed it on her side. She jumped in joy, waving the two of them thinking they would make her fly. She then tossed them aside, striding towards the giant bot at the corner. Its design was clearly a service bot, a butler, but some parts were missing and the battery slot was empty. She raised her hands, touching the bot's face, pushing its eyes mistaking them for buttons.

She picked up the bot's arm, slowly surrounding his palm with her tiny fingers. "Hello, my name is Tamara," the little girl said. "What's your name?"

Nothing, no sound came back. Still, she responded on his behalf. "Oh, they didn't give you a name, did they?"

Nothing came back as well. "It's okay, I will name you… Sully… No, Sylvester. Glad to meet you, Sylvester." She patted the bot on the head, she grabbed a cover from behind the closet and covered the clinking thing with it. She rubbed his metal head with her tiny nails. "Sleep tight."

She turned around, her eyes on the special item atop the table. Her father seemed to have forgotten the desk lamp plugged. The little girl climbed up the chair with her hands on the ridge of the table like a curious cat. The shining thing was green; one would notice deep lines that were greener than the overall color. She stretched her hands towards the chip. She felt something under her armpits, something like a hook lifting her up in the air. The little girl sat on his lap, her father's lap. The young Bob embraced his daughter, kissing her on the cheek. His eyes seemed to be weary. He yawned every few seconds.

"Tamara, what did I say about sneaking into our bedroom and stealing my keys?" Bob said, almost falling asleep before he could feel the weight of his daughter on him.

"It's not stealing if I only wanted to borrow them. You wouldn't let me here, I wanna see what's in here," Tamara said, pulling Bob's long hair.

"Ow, Ow, now that you've seen what's in here, baby girl, you should get back to bed," Bob said, rising off the chair with his daughter in his arms. He turned off the light switch on his way up, taking the stairs while the little girl kept twirling his hair around her fingers, making little circles.

"Dad?"

"Mm?"

"What was that thing on the table?"

"Ah, of all the things you want to know about," Bob said, grinning as he turned around the corner and took the stairs to his little girl's room. "That my girl can be my greatest work. Your daddy's gonna be a hero, he's gonna change the world."

He pushed the door, sitting by the side of the bed. "But it's so small, it can't do anything," Tamara said.

Bob was lost for a few seconds. "It's strength lies in its size, honey."

He kissed his daughter on her forehead before pulling the white cover on her. He grabbed the basement's keys with him out of the room.

"Dad?

Bob turned around with his hand on the knob. Both of his eyes were closed and his body seemed to be silently dancing. He let out a yawn before he caught himself with the wall.

"Can I have one too?"

The lazy grin on Bob's face disappeared in parallel with the slow opening of his eyes. Fear was plainly visible in his eyes, even his hands started shaking. Visions of his experiments in Florida flashed by his eyes; the pain, the screams, the whirling, the suffering. It was a blessing the room was dark; she could not see his horrified face. He walked towards the door, slipping out of the room. "Goodnight honey, I love you."

The girl was too sleepy to wonder why her father had not answered her question. She curled in her bed, covering her head under the blanket with that image of that chip implanted on her mind. Before she could drift away into slumber, she opened her eyes.

"I love you too, Dad," she said a few minutes before she started snoring and dreaming.

I love you too, Dad.

Tamara had awoken from the distant memory, looking at the spoon in between her fingers. The apartment was all empty, nothing but the sound of the crackling windows at the coming of the hot wind. She dug into the oatmeal before tossing the spoonful into her mouth, wiping the side of her lip with a napkin. She squatted next to her backpack, the leather book from the shop was still there. The owner left them with a pen as well, a pen she used to write on the leather notebook. Garlem had long given up the use of papers, only the outsiders, the southerns and those at the top could get such a resource. Those who spent the first years in Garlem could not write with a pen, and it would take them long to do so. Tamara had spent years of her life using brushes to perfect her portraits, thus it was not so hard to write the letters on paper.

Theodor Brinkins is behind the mayor's murder. I doubt if they'd let a mob boss into their organization, there must have been someone higher than him. Even if there is, we have to find proof that the mob was behind his murder and we can start by fetching the house.

The knocking on the door interrupted her flow of ideas. She scurried to the door, her eye on the scope. She then turned the knob and pulled the door, and there was Roger. He wore a different vest than the other two days, the pants and shoes were all the same. She then went back to her spot, sitting on the floor with the leather book in her palms. Roger took a couple of steps before facing the young lady. The noise in his head returned again, the eastern part was the exact opposite of the tech-free south.

"Where's your mother?" Roger asked.

"She's sick, I took her the hospital this morning," Tamara said, turning the pages.

"Shouldn't you stay with her? I can go infiltrate Theodor's property myself," Roger said.

"No, you can or you can't doesn't concern me, she'll be fine. I have to go find my father," Tamara said, bristling and rushing to the door. She pulled the door, leaving it open as she turned to the chip bearer. She raised her eyebrows, pointing to the outside.

"Shall we?"

"Lead the way," Roger said, walking with Tamara out of the house. She put on her hood as Roger did the same, his mind started displaying the different conversations and calls, different pathways to travel through and different unsealed bots that he could control within his grasp.

"By the way, you hadn't told me about your uncle," Tamara said, waiting for a wheeled cab to pass before crossing the road. It was almost empty, yet the sky was clouded with hovering vehicles. Those below could sometimes feel the projected heat from below.

"How is my uncle supposed to be involved in any of this?"

"Well, you asked about my mother. She can do us no good in finding Dad, but you did ask," Tamara said, taking the side as the sidewalk was bloated with screen holders, and those who did not were not visible in the midst of such a crowd.

"He's fine," Roger said, remaining silent for a few seconds before parting his lips again. "Well, he isn't. For the last few days, he hasn't been talking to me at all."

"When was the last time you talked?"

"The day we first talked in months."

"You must have said something to him."

"I don't quite remember. But I have a feeling you're right, I hurt him. But I can't lie, I didn't have control over what was happening, even the way that I was talking to you that day. I felt like I was devoid of any feeling, only possible answers to possible outcomes. I was allowed to think clear when we went the south of Garlem, it was then when… when I remembered I said things to him, to you," Roger said, his voice was deep and scorched.

"Have you ever asked yourself why your chip forces you to do bad things instead of good?"

Roger looked down. "You can't exactly say that. It's an AI, it flows with calculations and results. The ironic thing about it is that it always leans towards the solutions that we call immoral. It's not like the chip has a tendency to be bad, it's just not afraid of social standards. If you take a look at it, the chip is in a whole another league of freedom."

"What about your manners, Roger? What about your standards of what's right and wrong? Would it matter if you lose that in the process?"

"My standards of what's right and wrong…" Roger said, losing himself in a degrading silence like a small rope that kept on falling to a groundless abyss. There was no need to finish the conversation; they were already in front of Theodor's mansion. The whole place was closed; the garage and the main house were closed. It required Theodor's face recognition or either of his sons. There was a three storied house, two pools, a large garage to fit whole three cars and a large garden atop which all of these floated. Aside from the buildings, the whole place swarmed with camera and scanning drones. Each required a whole different code to override, which meant more tension in Roger's mind. No security bots seemed to be present, but the place was not far from the police department, aside from the patrol bots that kept coming every few seconds. There was no turning back.

"Roger, I'll get in, you take a vantage point and help me pass through the cameras and scanners. Perhaps turn off the alarm," Tamara said, stepping closer to the door near the recognition device.

"First, the alarm has the police seal, you can't crack this one. Second, there is no way in the world I let you in alone, I'll be out and you take the vantage point."

"You think I'm stupid? I'll be of no use in the vantage point. I'm quick and quieter than you are. Besides, you can't hack three coded types and still have enough energy to sneak in. You can't do it, now be kind and hack into the recognition machine."

Roger put his hand on his hips, sighing with veins crawling up his temples. "Fine," he said, stepping closer to the recognition machine before his chip initiated the contact. He dove into his own search engine, groping a Brinkins' face in Garlem. A screen after screen, he found Gary Brinkins' face and installed it into the recognition machine without having to place his own. The door opened in welcome, Tamara nodded before she skulked inside. Roger took the stairs of a nearby building, standing near the edge with his eyes on the moving Tamara. Roger initiated the first contact before diving into the matrix of the house, seeing all the lines correspond with each other. Each line represented the movement of each device around the house, its function depending on its color and vibration if it seemed active. Meaning if the lines started to vibrate, Tamara was done for.

The girl crept through the bushes. Atop her was a scanning machine that Roger turned blind, yet not for so long. She rushed around the corner, hiding behind the chairs facing the pool. More cameras were in place, Roger had to unplug himself from the old scanner in order to override the newer ones.

"Roger?" Tamara whispered, her phone in her hand. Roger had his head spinning every bit of an instant, struggling to keep himself intact. Tamara cursed; she left the phone under the chair before she dove into the pool. Her only wish the water would not carry her to the top before the camera drone passed. She waved down, plunging and digging into the depth of the pool while the camera swarmed the place with its micro lenses. The AI was smart enough to detect recent movement through the ripples in the water. Before Tamara could be heaved to the top, the AI malfunctioned and went eddying to the other side of the building. Tamara climbed to the top again, picking her phone with her.

"Thanks," she said, Roger raised a thumb from behind before he signaled her to keep going. Tamara kept the phone under her chin as she went closer to the main mansion, the place where all the scanners and cameras nested. Tamara immersed herself in a bush near an automated window, moving to alert Roger. The latter focused on the window, as if he was about to reanimate someone while bursts of electricity kept colliding into the process. The window had suddenly risen to the top. However, before Tamara could get closer, a camera inside the house had focused its view on the moving window. Its light color was slowly shifting to pink and then to red before Roger blinded it.

"Now!" Roger said, struggling to maintain the dark dye on the camera's lenses. Tamara strode and jumped through the window, rolling behind the door as the camera regained its view, yet this time the window was closed. Tamara was stuck inside the house, there was no turning back. She had to carry it through. She was inside the living room, about twice the size of two apartments from downtown. In alignment with each wall were black couches, each having three pillows with a gigantic table in the middle. At the corner there was a small fridge for drinks, mostly wine. There were glassy cups in the closet just beside it. Atop each crossing was a camera with a scanning function in case it was dark, there were scanners under the couches and on the walls. Apart from that, the paintings had eyes. It was absurd that someone amongst the higher class in Garlem still cared for art.

"Roger, this place's crammed with cameras and scanners," Tamara said, rolling under the couch when a moving drone passed by. It required a higher amount of energy to overcome the walls of the house and actually use the matrix to manipulate the machines. There was only one way to do it. It was not supposed to be so difficult since that he had overridden Sylvester first. Roger sat down, closing his eyes to fully see the lines. This time the vibration was caused by his attempt to override. Bits of his consciousness enveloped one of the camera lines, his vision was shifting. In the blink of an eye, he was the right camera above the door.

"Tamara, I'm going to initiate a full hack, the whole room will be shutdown. But whatever encounters you in the corridor, I can't rest enough to initiate another hack. Are you ready?"

Tamara peeked from the under the couch. "Oh man."

She then withdrew back under the couch, her hands tightly clutching in each other. She breathed heavily, faster with every exhale. "Roger, you sure you can do it? It might be dangerous for your brain."

"Does not matter, we have no choice. I ask you again, are you ready?"

His voice sounds different, Tamara thought. She shook her head, creeping towards the opening.

"Now!"

Roger closed his fists and eyes, sensing that heat was climbing up to the crown of his head. Cameras, scanners, hidden lines of the alarm went blind. Tamara rolled, leaping from a couch to the other before she reached the door, finally escaping the living room. She was in the corridor, there were a few cameras. It would not be a problem if Roger could execute smaller hacks.

"Roger?"

There was no response.

"Roger? Hey, where are you?"

Nothing but the sound of the wind. Roger must have blacked out, she thought. She had to keep it up on her own to finish the job. There was a staircase around the corner, leading to a higher level of rooms. As she walked, she withdrew and hid behind the wall as the camera drone passed. She sneaked, raising her feet and keeping them around the edges in order not to fall into a trap. She kept her hands away from the walls. She crouched, looking at a passing drone between the rooms. She tossed her hand into the backpack, roaming for anything useful. There was a ball she bought from the gift shop. She projected it at the wall, robbing the attention of the flying bot. She was already inside the room, it was a simple work room. There was a desk, locked drawers with blank papers. No computer was viewed at sight, it must had been emptied once he died. Still, Bob should have kept that in mind, thus there must have been something of interest in the house.

Her hands swarmed throughout the place, pulling the unlocked drawers. She had an eye on each of the drawers, closing them afterwards. She covered her fingers with a napkin from home, cursing after every empty search. The voice of the flying bot's fan was closing in. She turned around, her eyes on the closet. The flying camera bot buzzed inside, focusing on the desk and the closet. The bot eddied around the room, moving its lenses, advancing and withdrawing them. Tamara's heart almost sank as she kept her hand on her mouth inside the closet, sensing a bit of relish once the bot exited the room. She strode out of it into the other room, watching for the newer bot from downstairs.

The room was simpler than that of the others, it was smaller. There was a single bed on the right with a purple cover on it. Facing it were two closets next to each other, but they were almost empty, nothing but the lingering dust. There was a picture of a young Theodor, wearing a simple shirt with a little cut and holding both of his kids. He did not have the beard; he did not wear the black suit. He seemed as simple as anyone could be, and for some reason it was the only remaining family picture in the house. Behind the picture was a key, almost embedded in the wood before Tamara snatched it, keeping it inside her backpack.

"Roger? Roger, please come in!" Tamara whispered, phone in hand and heart in pit. As she peeked throughout the opening of the door, it was apparent that the flying bots were somehow alerted. Three bots hovered in the air, leaving half a meter between each other. Each of them was in a rotating motion. Tamara winced back inside, looking at the ceiling before she wiped the sweat off her forehead.

None of these cameras have a 360° vision. There vision lenses are only on either side. If I do this smart, I can pass to the other room without being spotted.

She put her hand on the door, leaving a small opening through which she could sneak without making much noise. The cameras were still moving, the first and second both looked towards the staircase while the other one looked at the wall. Tamara moved a couple of feet, avoiding the first two cameras. The last camera was turning; a bit more speed and Tamara would be contained in its sight lenses. The camera only caught a bit of her cloth before she was inside the room and under the bed. After waiting a number of seconds, she pulled herself out of there. She was in Theodor Brinkins' personal bedroom. There was a large double-bed covered in red, there was also a door leader to a smaller one, his own clothes space. It was empty, yet there was a painting in the door. It portrayed a lady in her upper forties, almost all of her hair was gray yet her smile had always left Theodor without a heart. Her eyes were surprisingly gigantic, yet her lips and nose were small. The crumples in her face were almost invisible.

This must be Lisa Brinkins, his passing wife. At least they're reunited now.

Much like in the other painting in the kids' room, there was a key just behind it and it was deep into the wood. The camera bots were no longer there. Tamara, tired of crouching, walked towards the room. There were two drawers. She unsealed them, her heart beating to know what would be inside. As she tried to pull each of them, it appeared that they were a single drawer since the start. A couple of wheels under the desk went in motion. Crumpled files were atop each other in the drawer. Tamara sat on the floor, legs crossed and the put the files in between her legs, examining them one by one. Some files were concerned with his criminal activity, his preferences, his vision of the mob and his own experience as the Pacific's first crime boss. He had also written that Jerry had always been his favorite, that he had never trusted Louisa. Tamara put the file aside, seeking the next one.

Tamara flipped the pages, scanning each one before turning to the next. There were pictures of masks with deliberate yet confusing lines, almost resembling a glitch, as Theodor had indicated. They were red cloaks and sat around a large table, they had ranks and lodges. There had to be some branches around the rest of the country and in London, but their main focus was the place of their birth, Garlem. The only known figure behind their initiation was Owinson, yet the members were unknown. Theodor had noted that the organization had not operated through Theodor's orders, yet they would not oppose it him if their goals met. Their goals had always lingered in a linguistic ambiguity. They had a list of tenants by which their actions were carried through. It was clear that Theodor was afraid of what they could do, even remained out of their way when necessary. Only two pages remained. Tamra tapped her tongue before she turned the page, her eyes on the pictures.

"There was one member who kept creeping on me. He watched every movement, every action, every transaction. He had it all on me, one call to the feds and the Pacific is gone. The other day he sent threats to my home in Florida, my little kid had almost read it. I had to do what he asked, I had to kill the mayor. He was smart enough to keep his identity hidden from me all the time. One day I asked one of my men to follow him; he traced him to the west of the city before he vanished. That's all I got. Whoever you are reading this message, you need to stop these folk! They ain't planning something good at all."

Tamara tossed the evidence in the bag before she sneaked out of the room. The mansion was cleared off cameras and scanning bots, even the doors were opened. Tamara walked out of the apartment without the slightest of effort. She turned around and walked towards the staircase, trying to find Roger. As she reached the spot, the young man was nowhere to be found. Tamara sat a bit on the ridge of the building, finger on her chin. As she picked her phone again, the phone call was not finished yet.

"My phone is connected to Roger's mind, not his actual phone. The call can never be off, I can use this to my advantage to find him!"

He woke up at the sound of the constant waves. The pain in his head was unbearable, as if someone prickled his brain every once in a minute. His eyes were half-closed, it was a challenge to fully open them. There was blood all around his lips and nose, most of it was dead dry. He was inside a dim room with only a single lamp on top. He could sense it was small room, and by the sound of the pedestrians and honking cars outside, they were downtown. Still, being in that part of the city was supposed to help showing him more override opportunities, yet none appeared as if his chip was nonexistent. His hands were tied to the ceiling. He struggled to shake the ties, yet it was of no use. The source of the constant waves, came from the back, there was little light there. Roger turned around, trying to take a glimpse of what cut all the signals before a blow clashed with his ribs.

"Oh!" Roger yelled, heavily breathing while looking at a man with a baseball bat rested on his shoulder. Roger could remember who that was, he had searched for his face in order to infiltrate Brinkins' mansion.

"Oh yeah, you'd be better be afraid, kid," the man said, landing another blow on Roger's right side. The young man snarled in pain, even sensing one of his bones cracking.

"Gary… Brinkins," Roger said, watching the droplets of blood mix with his sweat and bombard the ground. Roger attempted to initiate contact with anything in the room, yet even the redness of the error logo could not appear, like an unplugged computer. Roger squinted at the light above.

"Dear Lord, to believe that a worm like you killed my father, my dear father," Gary said, punching Roger on the chest. The young man had a burst in cough. Not before he could finish the cough, Gary gripped his bat and swung at Roger's other side. Roger shrilled, eyes closed.

"Listen to me, I did not kill your father."

"I saw the footage, you took him by the neck and threw him on the wall like he was a toy," Gary said, grunting as he landed a quick jab on Roger's face. The dark bruise was plainly visible. "You can't use whatever they've planted on your mind to save yourself now. A couple of friends in Red Tech smuggled me that," he said, pointing at the glowing thing by the end of the room. "They call it a disruptor, ain't nothing you can do now. You are nothing without the chip!"

"You… did see the footage, but I was manipulated. Louisa Rain knew that waking up in that state was probable; she arranged your father's fate. Still, how can you come after me if she issued an order not to pursue me?" Roger said, looking at Gary with one eye.

"Me and handful of my father's followers decided to chase you on our own. And you were lying there in that rooftop like a sitting duck. But wait… how the hell did you know the mob decided to let you go?" Gary yelled, hooking Roger's jaw.

"Louisa said she'd let me go if I present her with Jackson's criminal activity, he'd never let her near your father's seat, so she sent me. That was the deal," Roger muttered, leaving small bits of breaths in between.

Gary let him go and took a couple of steps away before he thrust into Roger with a couple of fists. "If you had a proof for such a claim, you would have shown it."

"I do, just turn that disruptor off so I can access my file storage, it's all in my mind," Roger said.

Gary looked at the disruptor before a smile was painted across his face. He put his hand on Roger's neck, as if he was about to choke him. "You think you can trick me with that, you vermin, but you won't. This will be the end of you, no one's gonna remember you even existed."

Gary took a step back, keeping a feet forward. He gripped his baseball bat with both hands, his eyes focused on Roger's head. One swing to end it all, one swing to preserve his family's pride, one swing to finally avenge his father. He would release it and grip it almost instantly, sweat was partially blinding him before he had wiped it with the forearm. In an instant, Roger closed his eyes in despair, waiting for the ending blow.

There was a strange crackling downstairs, resembling smaller explosions. Gary took a step back, his hand on the knob while trying to hear the sound downstairs. Roger knew it, they were in an apartment. Gary did not have many men to protect him.

"Patrol Bots!" the yelling came from downstairs while the patrol bots, aided by two human officers, stormed into the place against Gary's men. In the night, a few cracklings of light could be spotted as bullets and the newer laser guns tore into the walls and doors of the building. Gary turned around at Roger, knowing something was wrong. As he went closer, he sensed the heat of the lamp above them was rising. Gary covered his eyes, wondering why the voltage was rising. Then he then looked at the direction of the disruptor, it was not there. At that second of a realization, the lamp exploded, lighting the ropes around Roger's wrists on fire. Roger covered Gary with the fired ropes before pushing him through the door and jumping out of the window, using the emergency stairs to descend and vanish into a dark alley. He watched behind the trash can how more police patrols swarmed into the apartment, he then turned around to see the one who sneaked into the apartment and stole the disruptor.

"I did not expect that," Roger said, holding his ribs while groaning in pain. "You shouldn't have risked your life though."

"Shut up," Tamara said, taking his hand and boosting him off the ground. "Cops were the perfect the diversion. If I had to guess, that was Brinkins' son."

"Yeah, he's looking for revenge. They think I killed his father on purpose."

"We'll get to that later, let's get you patched up first."