Free Fall

By: Adam Tyler

Word Count: 2932

    If Cyris hadn’t seen the black flyer it would have knocked him out of the sky on impact. It almost did anyway. He’d been so focused checking his rear cameras, he almost hadn’t seen it until it was too late. The neon lights of the city below parted for an instant, and the black, bullet shaped flyer peeled silently out a side street, heading straight for him. It was the kind of car the grim reaper would drive if he found himself in 2055. Cyris jerked the controls and pulled upward, just as the black flyer demolished the space he’d been in. The bottom of the Scout screeched as the two flyers collided, and Cyris was flung against his seat belts with a panicked shout. Something smelled like smoke, but there wasn’t any time to worry about that. In his rear camera he could see the black flyer turn and gain on him. Unfortunately, there wasn’t too much traffic this time of night. Other flyers pulled out of his pursuer’s way, as if it carried an aura of danger around it.

    Cyris gunned the throttle and the Scout groaned in protest. Holographic ads jumped out at him, invading his windshield for fifteen seconds or so while they informed him of the latest cutting-edge technology. A speed advisory popped up, but he didn’t pay any attention. “Come on, come on.” He whispered to the Scout. “Don’t let me down now.” It shuddered and the whole structure vibrated, but it was still speeding up. He chanced a glance behind and saw the black craft was drawing abreast of him. The window slid open, and a long metal barrel emerged. “This is not happening.” Cyris said numbly, and then an arc of lightning shot towards him. The whole vehicle crackled with light, and every one of his hairs stood straight up. Then the engine cut off. For a moment it was so silent he could hear another flyer’s radio playing a pop song, but the Scout tipped forward and began to free fall. He screamed as he plummeted straight down.

~

    As Cyris fell, he cursed himself for ever getting involved at CogTech. More importantly, he cursed Dr. Phillip. All Cyris had wanted was a decent job with some decent pay. Those things were hard to come by when you were nineteen with no prospects, but somehow, he’d gotten hired on at CogTech in “Asset Transportation”. Basically, he was a glorified delivery boy. That wouldn’t have been a problem, but earlier that night Dr. Phillip had called him for an unscheduled delivery.

    “What do you want?” Maybe not too friendly, but it was 1 am.  

    “I need you to come in. I’m sorry, but it’s urgent. I’m willing to pay you double.” Professional, but respectful. As far as bosses went Phillip wasn’t bad. But there was a slight edge to his voice tonight, and Cyris wasn’t sure why.

    Cyris groaned but sat up in bed. “Be there in fifteen, boss.”

    “And Cyris? Make sure you aren’t followed.” The line ended with a click. That was weird. But those guys at CogTech could be pretty eccentric.

    He grumbled to himself as he got dressed. “Just finished a shift this afternoon and now I gotta deal with this? Yeah, why not? Everybody call Cyris, the star delivery boy. He’s always free.”

    He pulled on dark jeans and a leather jacket and hopped into the Scout. When he’d bought it, his mom had been sure he’d been selling spice on the side. It was a sweet ride, bright red with black racing stripes, and handled like a dream. He’d been saving for years, and convinced himself it was a better investment than to move out of his dumpy apartment. It lifted off the ground with a purr, and after a few minutes cruising through the side streets landed in front of CogTech. It was a dark green obelisk that would have looked more at home on Mars than in the brightly lit streets of the city. Windowless, and defended by state-of-the-art security, no one was getting in they didn’t want.

    Dr. Phillip was sitting at his desk when Cyris entered. “Miss me?” He asked. “It’s been a whole four hours since I’ve been in here.” Phillip didn’t say anything. He just gave Cyris a look and produced something from under the table. It was a rectangular chip about the size of his palm, green with black connections all over it. There was a small screen on it too, for showing calculations and inputs.

    “This is the delivery? We have about a million microchips here. This one can’t be that important.”

    “Just shut up and listen.” Cyris’s mouth closed with an audible clack. Dr. Phillip sighed and rubbed his brow. In the green light from his monitor, he could see the lines of stress written across his face. “The address is 34588 Bassel. Can you handle that?”

    “Yep.”

    “Go on then. Sooner you do that, sooner you can get back to sleep.” He handed it over, and Cyris tucked it into his chest pocket.

    Cyris walked to the door and stopped. “Is… is everything all right with you? Sorry for asking, but you seem a little off.”

    Dr. Phillip gave a tired smile. “I’m fine, thank you. I’m sorry I lost my temper; it won’t happen again. And I’ll be a lot better once that delivery is complete.” He glanced at his computer screen, like he couldn’t wait to be rid of whatever was on there.

    “Sure thing, boss.” Cyris turned and walked towards the lobby. The building was deserted except for the two of them, the half-on fluorescent bulbs barely shedding enough light to see by. He came to a corner and glanced up at the mirror on the wall, conveniently placed so scientists wouldn’t run into each other and spill toxic waste everywhere. Or something. He didn’t know what they did here. But before he turned the corner, he saw three figures walking down the hallway. For no reason at all other than a gut feeling, he took a step backward into a pitch-black conference room and ducked behind a chair. His heart was hammering in his chest, but they didn’t even glance in his direction. As they passed, Cyris got a good look at them. The one in the lead was wearing a red leather duster, and one of his eyes glowed red in the dim light. Cybernetic enhancements. The only people who had those were either really rich or really crazy. That side of his head was shaven and was lined with three neat white scars.

    The two behind him were just as intimidating, although they didn’t have cybernetics anywhere Cyris could see. One had a face tattoo that made it look like her teeth were showing through her cheeks, and the other was a giant whose head almost touched the ceiling. The giant’s face was all smashed up like someone had taken a rubber mallet to it, so his expression was a permanent scowl. As they walked by, Cyris was glad he’d hidden. Their expressions reminded him of a pack of stray pit bulls that had chased him as a kid. Lean and hungry, wondering who they were going to have to tear up for a meal.

    “Hey, doc.” Cyris heard one of them say as they reached the end of the hall. “Long time no see.” The speaker’s voice was raspy and dry, like a knife scraping against steel.

    “Malax.” Suddenly Dr. Phillip sounded ready to piss himself. “I told you, it doesn’t work. It’s dangerous for you to be here, I’ll let you know- “The doctor yelped suddenly, and his chair clattered to the floor.

    “My… guy… on… the… inside… disagrees.” Each word was accompanied by a thump. Cyris imagined Phillip on the ground, getting beaten mercilessly. For a second, he thought about helping, but he gave up on that quickly. He wouldn’t stand a chance. Then he remembered the alarm in the hallway. If he could get to it, security would show up and stop these thugs. He slowly leaned out of the doorway, and peered at Dr. Phillip’s office. The giant and the tattooed man were standing in the doorway with their backs to him, but between their legs he could see Phillip’s crumpled form, with Malax resting a boot on his face.

    “It’s gone now. You’ll never get your hands on it.” Dr. Phillip said, and coughed a spray of blood out onto the white tile.

    Cyris took two big steps into the hall and pulled the alarm switch. There were no red lights. No sirens. Then the tattooed woman glanced down at her watch. “Someone just pulled the alarm in the building. We’re not alone.” Her and the giant turned, but Cyris was already running, taking off towards the exit like his life depended on it.

    “Stop, kid! We just want to talk to you!” The woman shouted, and he heard them start running after him.

    Cyris didn’t waste time on a response. He ran to the side door he’d come through and shouldered it open. Outside, there were empty gas canisters, and he tipped them over in front of the door for good measure. Maybe it would slow them down long enough for him to get away.

    The Scout was waiting in the lot, and he hopped in and gunned it. He zipped away just as the giant bashed open the door, sending metal canisters flying like bowling balls. Dr. Phillip and CogTech could handle it on their own. Cyris was getting the hell out of here, chip or no chip.

~

    All of that flashed through his head as he fell, the pavement rushing towards him at terminal velocity. He’d been so close to ditching them, but they were too good. He closed his eyes and waited for the end. Then his motion stopped, so suddenly his neck thumped against the seat. He looked up and saw that the black flyer had caught him in a tractor beam. It held him suspended in midair with a shimmering yellow light that enveloped the Scout. Then they slowly guided him over and dropped him onto a building. He heard a crunch as he landed, and guessed that whatever was left of the Scout’s gravitonics was crushed.  His beautiful car, his pride and joy, had been reduced to a heap of steel. The black flyer landed next to him, and the three thugs from CogTech got out. There was a stairway exit off the roof, but Cyris’s escape was blocked.

    “Alright kid, end of the line.” Malax said. “Give us the chip.” The giant raised the shock gun they’d used earlier. Cyris tried to reach for the handle of the Scout, but his body seemed frozen in place. A single tear leaked from his eye. “Someone help me.” He whispered. “I can’t die right now. I’ve got so much left to do.”

    “Last chance, or I’m gonna have angel face over here cook you from the inside out.” Malax grinned, but there wasn’t much humor in that red eye. “I guarantee it’s not a fun thing to experience.”

    Cyris opened door and stepped out. “If I give it to you, will you let me go?” He wasn’t in any position to bargain, and Malax knew it.

    “Sure, kid. You can run on home just so long as you pinky promise not to tell. Now hand it over before I lose my temper.”

    Cyris felt like he might puke, but he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the chip. A green LED was lit that hadn’t been before. Then the black flyer behind the thugs started. Before anyone had a chance to react it was out of park and accelerating forward. Malax dove to one side and the tattooed woman to the other, but the giant was struck head on and plastered to the windshield like a bug. He screamed as it carried him off the edge of the building. Cyris took off towards the exit, and the tattooed woman lunged for him. By accident, his shoulder connected with her jaw, and she dropped like a heap of bricks.

    The rooftop exit unlocked as he got close, and he slammed it shut behind him and raced down the stairs. He made it fifteen floors before he even stopped to think, but finally he leaned against the wall to catch his breath. He was in an office building, but right now it didn’t look like anyone was home. He looked down and realized that the chip was still glowing green. The screen was lit up, and black boxy letters now appeared on it. Take me home, it said. Cyris was so surprised he almost dropped it down the stairs.     

    “Dr. Phillip? Is that you?”

    I am IB-9800757. The letters across the screen declared.

    Cyris felt like his knees were going to buckle. Was this chip talking to him? Then a thought struck him. What if the chip had somehow taken control of the flyer on the rooftop? If that was true, it had saved his life. But that also meant this thing was smart, which was clearly illegal. Ever since the AI Accord of 2049, general artificial intelligence development had been outlawed. Leading scientists had believed it was too dangerous.

    “Umm… hi? IB? Can you hear me?”

    Yes. Take me home.

    “Do you mean 34588 Bassel? That’s the address Dr. Phillip gave me.”

    Your pursuers have made it into the building. I suggest you continue moving.

    Cyris tucked the chip back into his pocket and dashed down the stairs, taking them two at a time. Maybe if he made it to that address, they would help him. It might be his only hope.

    The night air was cool on his skin when he burst out of emergency exit. He glanced at his smart watch to get his bearings and kept running, drawing curious glances from others who were out this early. As he ran, the streets became poorly lit, and trash covered the ground. A few trash can fires burned in alleys, surrounded by people in rags. Bassel was in the worst part of the city. Then he saw movement to his left and something slammed into him, sending him flying into a pile of trash on the sidewalk. Malax coasted gently to the ground, small gravitonics on his boots switching off. Behind him was the tattooed woman, her mouth fixed in that permanent grin. Cyris glanced around desperately for help, but all the homeless had seen trouble and gotten out of there. The street was deserted except for a couple sweeper bots that were too dumb to help or do anything except pick up trash. They were about four feet tall and humanoid, with a broom attachment in one hand and a metal spike in the other, like the kind you used to see community service workers use.

    Malax didn’t waste any time talking this time. Cyris tried to stand, and he kicked him in the face. Blood exploded in his mouth, and then Malax straddled him, punching viciously.

    “Oh, yeah!” He laughed. “This chip is gonna make me a god, kid.” He gestured to his red glowing eye. “Once I plug it in here, I’ll be one with the grid.”

Cyris tried to cover up with his arms, but as he protected his face a fist caught him in the solar plexus, knocking all the air from his lungs. He gasped and flailed like a dying fish.

    “Hey, boss?” the woman said, a million miles away. “Did these things get an update or something?”

    Cyris barely heard as Malax hit him again, his nose cracking like a fortune cookie. There was a whirring sound, and the tattooed woman screamed. Malax jumped up, and Cyris saw her pinned to the concrete, the sweeper bot’s trash spike through her neck. Blood sprayed the robot as she struggled, but it clung to her, digging the spike deeper.

    Malax swept open his duster and pulled a sawed-off shotgun from his leg holster. He fired and the robot’s side was torn to pieces. He aimed to fire again and the other robot hit him, driving him to the ground. The shotgun went off again and Cyris turned and ran, ears ringing from the blasts and blood gushing down the front of his jacket.

~

    34588 Bassel was a plain, concrete building underneath an overpass. There was a dilapidated sidewalk, and a yard that was all weeds. Old graffiti was smeared across the walls. It didn’t look like much, but maybe that was the point. Whoever lived in here had a lot of power if they were getting a chip like this. Cyris took a step forward into the yard, and winced at the pain in his ribs. He’d taken a beating to get this chip, and now he was just going to hand it off? And then what? Back to delivery boy? He thought about the Scout too, now just a pile of scrap metal. The one thing he was proud of, destroyed like it was nothing. He pulled it out of his pocket, suddenly indecisive.

    Take me home.

    “Nah, you know what? I’m done taking orders. I gotta look out for me, and right now, you’re the best way to do that. You’re a smart chip, IB, but I’m still the one with the legs. So let’s walk.” He turned away from 34588 Bassel. As they walked away, the street lights slowly blinked off, until they were plunged into darkness.