Authors: David Berardelli
a multi-digit serial number, and several tiny, strange-looking icons. Apparently,
computer people were just as impossible to understand in China as they were in
America.
Then it came to me. XL7000. Colonel Forbes had told me China had sent
over a batch of twenty.
“Look for XL7000,” I told Fields, and she immediately rushed down the aisle,
examining each screen and computer unit.
I went down another aisle, stepping over another dead programmer while
checking for logos, model numbers, and brand names. I suddenly felt someone
behind me and spun around.
One of the programmers had abandoned his monitor to come over and see
what I was doing. He was about three inches taller than me, forty pounds lighter,
and at least fifteen years younger. His hair was blonde and unruly, his cheeks
sunken and pink. Judging by the stray blotches of peach fuzz on his chin and
above his nose, I guessed he hadn’t started shaving yet. His expression was
typical of other geeks I’d known—a mixture of contempt, confusion, and dismay.
He gawked at me as if trying to determine what species I was.
“Haven’t seen ya before,” he said. “Got top clearance?”
Since I hadn’t the time to work up a convincing lie, I tried the truth.
Sometimes the truth actually helped things along. “Where’s our latest batch of
XL7000’s?”
He blinked. “Huh?”
“The last batch we just got from China.”
“We get everything from China.”
“I’m looking for XL7000.”
“Who are you?”
Now was the time to inject a helpful lie or two. “I’m an inspector.”
He tilted his head. “What kind of inspector? Where’s your badge? And I just
heard sirens out in the hall. They looking for you and the brown-haired babe?”
I didn’t have time for this. At any moment, an army would burst into the room
and blow us all away. I lifted my shirt tail and whipped out the automatic. “I’ve
forgotten my badge. Will this do?”
He gasped, backing up and raising his arms.
“Now that we understand one another, maybe you can take me back to your
station.”
“Sure ... uh … sure.” He blinked furiously and grinned awkwardly. “Yeah.
My station.”
Relief washed through me. He was affected. Unless the TABs broke in right
this instant, we might just be able to pull this off.
“You okay?” I asked him.
He nodded. “I’m good. Good.” He ran a shaky hand through his golden mop.
I recognized the signs. It wouldn’t be long before this boy froze or slipped
quietly to the floor. The shock of someone pulling a gun on him had probably
sped up the process.
“Well? Where are they?”
He snapped to, blinking furiously, as if he’d just woken up. “Uh-huh. Now,
what were you looking for?”
“The TAB program.”
He scowled. “What’s the ... whaddya need…?”
“Just open it.”
His eyes narrowed. “You want it ... opened up?”
“Good deal. You remembered. I’ll even say please.” I gestured with the gun.
He turned to his station, bent over the keyboard, and typed in a few keys. I
stood close behind him, watching, as the cascade of bright images poured out,
overlapping one another. Then, a blue screen with white letters:
TECHNOLOGICALLY-ADVANCED BEINGS
TB-1000
A TUTORIAL
Without turning, he said, “What would you like to do next?”
“Turn it off.”
He jerked around. His eyes had already gone glossy. He blinked, trying to
focus. “Off?”
“Do it—now.”
“But you have to…”
“Now, dammit!” I tapped his shoulder with the gun barrel.
He flinched. “But we’re not supposed to…”
“Power it down.”
His fingers danced frantically across the keyboard, as he brought up the
program. Icons populated the screen.
Then Fields rushed over, her face flushed. “We’re out of time.”
Behind us, on the other side of the processors, the door burst open. The
wailing of the sirens invaded the room. Loud clicks echoed throughout the
confined space. At least a dozen gun hammers were being pulled back
simultaneously.
Quick footsteps approached us.
Another click, this one only a few feet away.
“Now, dammit!”
TABs or no TABs, I was about to reach around the geek. But just then he
The sirens stopped immediately, followed by the TABs first dropping their
weapons and then collapsing to the floor
The wonderful silence caressed my ears.
“Is that program on disk?” I asked the geek.
“Flashhh ... d-dri...”
His voice trailed off.
“Get it and give it to me.”
His eyes had grown darker, his movements slower. He went to reach around
to the back of his computer for the memory stick, but his arm dropped, his
knuckles thumping the table. I reached past him and yanked it out. He turned to
me and collapsed, slamming his head on the keyboard on his way to the floor.
The keyboard slid over to the edge of the table, then over the side, swaying and
bumping into the table legs when its cord went taut. Key covers broke off and fell
quietly onto the carpet. One of them landed on the geek’s nose before sliding off.
Another flash drive jutted out from the workstation next to his. I pulled it out
and stuck it in my other pocket.
Then I noticed that the room had been filled with TABs—at least three dozen
of them. The one that had been behind me lay just three feet away, its gun still
pointed in my general direction, the hammer cocked.
The remaining geeks had already left their posts, making a mad dash to the
other end of the room and ducking behind the racks of processors.
“What did you do?” Fields asked, her eyes as huge as silver dollars.
“I killed the program.”
“They don’t have a secondary program? Backups?”
“Good point.” I gestured at the fallen TAB’s gun then at the geeks. “Escort
them out of here.”
She picked up the gun, moved toward the huddled group, and motioned them
out into the hall.
As soon as they had closed the door, I removed two more automatics from the
TABs, walked to the room’s entrance, turned, and fired. Holding both guns, I shot
out every computer unit, monitor, processor, and any other device that looked the
least bit functional. I emptied both clips, found two more weapons, and started
the process again.
By the time I had finished, every piece of equipment in the room was a
smoking ruin. None of the TABs had budged.
My task done, I joined Fields in the corridor. She smiled at me. “Wow. I sure
am glad we didn’t have to pull the screwdriver bit on them all.”
“We’d both be dead.”
“But I think we should get out of here right now, while we’re still able to. It’s
gonna be tough to find a way out of this building.”
“We’ve got to find Reed first.”
Dozens of them had flocked toward the computer room, after the alarm sirens
began blaring. As we made our way through the complex, I expected a batch
hooked up to a separate program to suddenly come charging at us. Or, maybe
there was a backup master program located somewhere else that could be
engaged, so that all the fallen TABs could rise again and haul us back to the lab
for cloning, or the dungeon to await punishment.
None moved as we stepped over them. But just in case, I grabbed an
automatic from an exposed holster and handed it to Fields.
Using the female clone’s severed hand, Fields clicked open the doors
guarding the end of each corridor. We climbed two flights of stairs to a separate
wing labeled OFFICE & ADMINISTRATIVE PERSONNEL. Inside that door, a
TAB had been standing guard, its gun in hand. It now leaned against the door, and
its dimmed eyes told us we had nothing to fear. Fields swiped the hand again, and
I pushed the TAB over, as we entered.
Down the long carpeted hall, glass walls displayed the partitioned cubicles
behind them. Filing cabinets stood everywhere. Desks with laptops cluttered each
cubicle. A section with potted plants, a couch, two chairs, and a coffee table
littered with magazines embellished each reception area. A water cooler and
coffee station sat quietly toward the back.
Dead or dying workers slumped over their desks, beneath the tables, and in
front of the filing cabinets. A woman lay spread-eagle in the hall, papers and
binders scattered around her.
The stench was so heavy that Fields and I pulled up our shirts to cover our
noses.
“You have any idea where Reed might be?” I asked, gasping through my
makeshift mask.
“I heard one of the lab workers say Forbes and the others have to use
whoever’s available to keep the workflow going, since everyone’s been dropping
like flies. If Reed’s still alive, he’ll be on this floor.”
“I haven’t seen any TABs in the offices. They’re obviously equipped with the
latest computer software. It seems to me they could do office work ten times
faster and more efficiently than the average human.”
“They don’t have enough of them. I got the idea they want to use them strictly
for defense and clean-up. But I did hear someone in the lab say their jobs are
about to become obsolete in a few weeks, and that they’ll be replaced by a special
line of clones more suitable for lab work, like the female we disabled.”
“In other words, the clones will eventually take over every conceivable
position.”
“Eventually.”
I nearly laughed. Even with the world destroyed, these stupid bureaucrats
were still replacing people with computers.
Fields opened a door marked STATISTICS. The woman at the front desk was
blonde, heavyset and about forty, and stared blankly at us. Her name plate said
DALE HAWKINS. She smelled strongly of lilacs and something sour. Her
lipstick was badly smudged, and her left eyebrow was missing. Her left hand
covered the switchboard on her desk. Her right hand rested on a green blotter.
“Hello, Dale,” I said. “Still with us?”
Her eyelids lowered. She slumped forward, her face smacking the keyboard.
“I guess not.”
Fields hurried around the corner, stopping behind a stack of filing cabinets.
“Over here.”
I followed her to a door marked RECORDS
.
This one didn’t have a scanner.
Fields pushed it open, and we entered a maze of floor-to-ceiling shelves crammed
with folders, files, pamphlets, and thick manuals. Rows spanned the length of the
room, which appeared to be at least eighty feet long. This labyrinth separated in
the center with a narrow aisle cutting across its middle.
We crept down the center aisle, stepping over folders and two dead records
clerks, until we reached the other end of the room. To our left, a desk, chair, and a
long row of filing cabinets lined the wall. A lone figure sat at the desk, busily
working at his keyboard. The shock of light-brown hair made my spirits rise.
“Reed!”
Startled, he shifted in his chair. A grin lit up his face. “He said you’d be
coming shortly. What kept you?”
I laughed. “Traffic was heavy.”
He squinted. “Traffic?”
“A little light humor. What are you doing here?”
“When they found out I was a software manager, they decided I could be of
some use to them. Since they brought me here, I’ve been sorting files, putting
things in order.”
“Sounds interesting. And boring as hell.”
“This isn’t a bad job, Moss. Not really. It’s a lot better than worrying about
being killed. When they first brought me here, they stuck me in a little room and
left me for hours. I was terrified. My friend told me I shouldn’t be afraid, that
they’d need me for something, but I couldn’t help it. Then some lady came in and
asked me all sorts of questions about my background, and they brought me right
here and told me what they wanted me to do. I was relieved, of course, but every
time I saw one of those soldiers, I thought…” He suddenly stopped talking and
peered behind us. “Where are they? How’d you get away from them?”
“He switched them off,” Fields said.
His eyes grew wide. “I didn’t think that would be possible. Is that all you had
to do? Pull their plug?”
“The hard part was finding it.”
Reed sighed. “That’s a shame, in a way.”
“Why the hell would you say that?”
“They’re really efficient, you know. When they have a job to do, they get it
done faster than…”
“Reed?”
“Yes?”
“They kill and torture people. Don’t get all messy and nostalgic about this.”
“I know how dangerous they are, believe me. Even the people in charge of
this place are in awe of them. That’s why I was installed here.”
“To do what?”
“I manage their numbers and make sure everyone knows where they are at all
times. They’re all equipped with chips and GPS trackers and other software, but
the execs don’t want to have to monitor everything themselves. Still, they want
them constantly watched.”
“I guess since the TABs are also the security force, Forbes can’t really trust
them to monitor themselves.”
“Exactly. They want a steady flow of stats from the TAB GPS coordinates
going into the system. As soon as I get an updated readout, I enter their serial
numbers into separate files and send an alert to whoever Colonel Forbes has
assigned…”
“That’s enough, Reed,” I interrupted.
“Enough of what?”
“Enough of this shit about how efficiently the place is run. Shut it down.
Delete it. All of it. Every damned thing you’ve done since you’ve been here. And
take out any flash drives you’ve got and destroy them.”
Reed’s blue eyes widened. “That’s a lot of lost work, Moss.”
I couldn’t bear any more of this crap. I yanked the flash drive from his laptop,
dropped it on the floor, and mashed it with my shoe. Then I grabbed the laptop,
slammed it to the floor, and jumped on it, until it shattered beneath my feet.
Reed stood up, paralyzed in shock. But a huge swell of relief washed through
me, as I stared at the jagged pieces on the carpeted floor. I’d escaped being
cloned, closed down the TAB program, and destroyed their monitoring system.
Unless they had offsite backups, I’d hurt them beyond repair.
Still, I knew we shouldn’t celebrate just yet. A few more loose ends lingered.
Dale Hawkins had slipped out of her chair and dropped to the floor while we
were with Reed. She lay on her back, her pudgy arms outstretched, and her dead,
glazed eyes gazing at the fluorescents.
“Poor Dale.” Reed squatted and stroked the dead woman’s shiny blond hair.
“She was such a sweet lady. When they first brought me here, she came back to
my workstation and brought me coffee and doughnuts.”