Chapter 18: Seeking Redemption

As if somehow had been drowning her, all she would hear were smothered screams and callings. She felt someone grip her hair and pull her out of a sticky pond of darkish oil. She opened her eyes; she was crawling on the floor with her hands all around the place. She was panting, her heart was slowing down. Her world was no more than passing waves, numbers passing by everything. She was standing in the middle of a field of reeds, stretching all the way to the horizon. She could see numbers replacing reeds here and there, but that would vanish and leave her perplexed. She could not breathe the air of the open field, yet her hands sensed the reeds as she walked and stretched both of her arms.

"Where am I? How did I get here? Am… I dead?"

"No, you are not," a voice came from behind. The fellow stood far enough from her, yet his voice seemed like whispers in her ears. She turned around, looking at her old man wearing a regular buttoned shirt and jeans pants, the usual suit he wore when he decided to take her around town. He was younger, his beard was smaller and he did not wear his glasses. His hair seemed long, not as long as it was during his early years in florida, yet not as short when he lived in Garlem.

"Dad?" Tamara said, striding across the field like a little girl. She kept on pushing and shoving the reeds aside. He ran towards the old man. She spread her arms and closed them, realizing late that she only caught the wind before she stumbled and fell down the hill, rolling like a ball. It was painless, yet humiliating. She heaved her face off the mud, finding the old man standing next to her. She wanted to wonder how fast he got there, but she was busy thinking why he was no more than pure air.

"You're not real," she said, mopping her pants off the clinging mud. He sat beside her.

"Nothing in this simulation is real. The reason why you can sense it all and walk the field is because this whole world is the creation of your own mind, thus it affected your nerves and senses. Me, however, I'm installed into your chip by its creator, thus I am not your creation."

Tamara turned towards the old man, her head tilted. "Chip? Is that why… does this explain the pain?"

The old man turned towards the sun from afar as its rays crossed the field. "When you were young, Bob knew the dangers the likes of Carl Owinson and Liam Troddle posed to society and to the whole world. His brain cells were dying, much like Isaac Garaldson's, yet it was prolonged and slow because he didn't use much of his chip's energy. There was no one left to save the world from the Future Dictators. Sure, he trusted Isaac's decision of passing that power unto his son, but he had his own doubts about Roger."

"This is all a lot to take at once. How is my chip any different than the others? And why hadn't I felt it before?"

"Bob planted it in your mind when you were young. It was linked to his own chip, and to his own vitals. He wished for its power to awaken only at the moment of his death. Throughout the years, the chip made itself compatible to your mind and your brain paths. You do not need to break walls to control technology or jump into the matrix, even link your mind to a sattelite. It is probable that you'll have some difficulty when facing sealed bots and the nuclear arsenal, but you are fine."

"So, he did curse me, much like Isaac cursed Roger."

"No, sweetheart, he didn't. He wanted to protect you; he wanted to be sure you will be safe once he dies."

"Why did I feel pain just now?"

"Because this is the first time you use your chip. For now, as you first time, your chip will take control of your body to ensure your survival. After that, the chip can never take control of your mind unless the situation is critical."

Tamara looked away, unable to accept the whole of it. If only it was all a dream, if only she would wake up and go to school again. "Will I get sick like him?"

"I do not know."

She smirked. "He programmed you to keep it hidden, didn't he?"

The AI smiled back. "He did, but he also programmed me to tell you the truth if you suspected anything. He wouldn't stop talking about how smart you are. For now, your brain cells are completely fine; the regeneration of neurons is going through a smooth process. Still, he warns you not to use too much energy, not like Isaac's son. He believes his fate is already sealed, but yours is still in your hands."

Tamara looked up at the sky, letting her back hit the reeds. "I don't know if I'm ready to go back out there. I feel like I want to stay here."

"Roger Garaldson needs you. This is the last thing you have to take care of here in Garlem. Still, The simulation manipulated your perception of time, you can stay here for as long as you want," the old man said, walking to the unknown. She rolled around and stood, stretching her hand towards him. "Wait!" she called.

He turned back. "Yes?"

She threw one foot in front of the other while the AI stood in confusion. There was dust all around his body, dust filling the air he left in his senseless body. Dust turned into real flesh with temperature and feeling, she tossed her arms under his arm pits and buried her face into his chest. She willed him to embody the AI, she willed for a true body to be there. She closed her eyes, feeling the wind passing by them, carrying the fallen reeds up in the air.

"I love you, dad," she said.

The AI complied without even intending too. His raised both of his arms and embraced the loving daughter for a last moment of goodbye. "I love you too, honey."

The glowing line around her eyeball started to vanish, disappearing into the unknown in order to leave place for the actual blackness around her eye to form. She was herself again. She blinked twice in order to regain her focus again, looking at her scratched palms. She had a broken nail. There was a small wound at the back of her hand around the middle knuckle. She then craned her head, sweeping across the hideout with her eyes to see a graveyard of junk, protection bots all destroyed. There were bots that squeezed each other's batteries, others ripped their cords off. Others had their neural interface burning with heat. There were some robot parts that were awfully mingled with each other that she could not make sense of it. Next to her feet her father was lying on the ground. She ducked, keeping him close to her before she spotted Troddle leaving the hideout in fear. Her chip tingled at the presence of a flash drive in his hand on his way out. It was not the time to go after him.

It was painless, the whole of it. She just carried her old father in her hand, either pushing the junk aside or stepping over it. She kept her eyes at the end of the stairs, leading out through the supermarket. Her chip did not ache anymore, but there was a difference in how she perceived the world. This time calmness seemed impossible as those noises would visit her mind, noises that represented her craving for connection. The voice replaced the constant melody she would make out of the passing wind, the hammering rain, the chirping of birds, the fall of leaves and the blessed song of silence. All the way, she was not concerned about anything except the voices, the numbers at a far background. At least the pain stopped, that was all what she needed. She walked in the middle of the road; only the old cared for her. No one rushed to help. Most of the pedestrians from both sides of the road switched their phones on, deviating their cameras towards the weeping girl. Instead of pity, sniveling and phonecalls, the sound of the flashlights where she heard, none seemed to care at all, but to capture a moment. Before two fellows could cross the road and help her out, she had already reached the hospital. She stood in front of the main gate as nurses and service bots rushed to her help.

She sat in the corridor all alone, recalling her memories since the moment she saw the chip in the basement until her father's sacrifice to both save and awaken the real her. The doctors rushed inside, chasing after each other into the room while she sat with both of her eyes closed. She turned around to find her mother limping from a wheelchair to a regular one beside her daughter. She too rested on the wall, eyes closed yet streaming tears of grief.

"Mom…"

"He is dead, isn't he?" the mother asked. She seemed to be neutral despite her tears. She was ailed before; she was content she could endure loss. Tamara nodded, picking up a tear from her left cheek by the side of the chin.

"His sickness took him. He had a stroke," Tamara said, gasping. In her lethargy, she found her mother's hand around her other arm, pulling her towards her. Tamara succumbed to her mother, closing her eyes as she rested her head on her mother's chest. Like a blanket, the young lady was covered by her mother's arms. Both ladies wept in silence while the corridor was rumbled with nurses. Doctor Barris came out of the room. He looked at the grieving Polions before turning around and walking towards the other room, Roger's room. Before she could close her eyes again, Tamara noticed the presence of a strange fellow. The latter wore a blue suit with a tie, the neon light shined at the tip of his shoes. His hair was pulled to back. Tamara cared only about his eyes, his glassy eyes. He gripped a cane, but he turned towards the young girl as if he had known exactly where she was. She sensed her heart beating at that instance before he nodded and then walked away, disappearing into the crowd.

Up there into the starry heavens, through the invisible lines that tied the whole world together, Roger wandered like a dead astronaut in space around the atmosphere surrounding the earth. Bits of his consciousness were scattered here and there; each satellite shared a bit of his memories and perceptions of the world. It was moment of emptiness like no other, but he still felt something was different. He had helped Tamara earlier to release her father's locks, yet he could not stop the bots because the part where he cared was lost anyway. To answer the question whether he kept lingering in space because of his depression or because of his inability to retrieve his divided self was an impossible thing to do. Still, the fact that Bob's vitals came to a halt, a cease in function. His father's AI stood by his side, much like Bob's in Tamara's matrix.

"Your friend's dead. How do you feel?" Roger asked.

"I am not programmed to feel. I am only programmed to act like your father, to emulate him for the sake of explaining to you the process of the space jump."

"Then… what would my father do if he had known that his friend's time on earth has come to an end?"

"I ask your confirmation if you want such a request. My assumption will be based on probabilities and observations, not emotions and complex perception."

"Agreed."

"He would not give a dime about it. He would continue his work because his friend was no more than mere aid that can be replaced with a better and more capable mind."

Roger did not realize that he was smiling; even his face back in hospital had a stretching smile. "Seems like typical daddy."

"Sir, may I ask?"

"Go ahead."

"His daughter, the young lady Tamara Polion, is probably in need of you right now. Shall you consider the option of returning back to your body?"

Roger was lost in the question. "Tamara…"

The AI waited for an answer, yet Roger seemed to be lost. "Very well, then what about your friend?"

"What friend?"

"Jeremy Jackson."

"Oh you mean Jerry Jackson's son?"

"Ah funny how you remember your friend through his father, not quite the opposite."

"Yeah, right. What about him? How are you going to use him as an argument to pull me back from space?"

"Do you remember his last voice mail? He told you that he is going to leave town, possibly tomorrow. You can manipulate your perception of time, take your time here before you travel back into your body. Do humans not consider it important to say it goodbye?"

"Why do you care about my situation? What if I stay here until my body withers and dies out there with hope that my consciousness will start to fade away in space with the fall of my chip?"

"I am programmed to care, to pull you back by trying to convince you."

"Ha, so dad decided to love me all of a sudden."

"No, your father made it clear that he wanted you to go back, not out of fatherly love. Even if he did, he would not have expressed it, or I was too underdeveloped to understand such… complex things. Anyway, he made it clear to me that he wanted you to go back on earth, to finish the job and stop whatever Owinson and his organization are planning. His enthusiasm, his belief that you will use whatever that was in your disposal to save the world, to carry his mission through methods better than his a million times. He believed you were the best of all, the one most capable. There was no logical explanation why you earned your chip, but his belief was unquestionable. He was a contradicting man, way beyond my understanding."

Roger was silent for a few seconds, sensing small bits of his memory returning to the overall conscious. He saw the world through the lenses of the satellite; the earth would not stop at all.

"Can I infiltrate Garlem's evidence room? Is the seal around it strong?"

The AI calculated the probabilities and costs of the jump into the evidence room before his voice exploded. "Yes! Through the process of jumping into different machines all around the world, you have built an anti-system against various seals, you can infiltrate it at any second now."

With a silent rotation towards the place of the evidence room in Garlem, Roger turned into literal numerical lightning, traveling across the small invisible funnels that connected the satellites. This time he remained calm, the jump was not harder than the ones he had already handled in his search for the whistleblower. In matter of seconds, he was inside one of the thirty servers in a room protected by different three hundred firewalls. The AI remained distant, watching how Roger's small bits of consciousness jumped from a server to the other without hesitation. With a single jump, the amount of death, atrocities, scam, pain would pass by and through him, yet there was no pain nor shaking. The AI thought if Roger's inability to empathize with all the awfulness in the evidence room against Garlem's worst was direct evidence that his humanity was no more. He did focus his mind on a single piece of evidence, the others were not supposed to matter.

Roger found the piece of evidence he sought: the corruption in the auction house and the underground fight pits. Roger focused his energy on it as his flowing numerical self enveloped the whole it, eating all the data on the evidence before releasing it into the nothingness of the matrix, letting it fly away. Roger then returned to watch the world behind the camera of another satellite.

"There you have it, I used my power for good one last time. This time I won't have to think about saying goodbye to… what was his name? His father's name? Why would I even…?"

This time the AI did not answer, but seeming to be disappearing. Roger controlled the satellite camera, moving it to the left in his search for his robot companion. Instead of it, he found a strange figure floating in space, yet seeming to be standing. Back in his real body, Roger opened his mouth and started to breathe fast. There she was, wearing that red shirt of hers and letting her hair flow with the sun behind her. Her eyes were as glowing as ever. Her fists were clenched; he took a couple of seconds thinking before he pronounced her name through his real mouth instead of his own consciousness up there.

"Tamara."