I am imprisoned.
THE MINUTES tick by, each one like an hour to my anxiety-ridden self. I’m on the floor, the cold of the tile seeping through the legs of my black pants everywhere the armor doesn’t reach, adding to the shivers already wracking my body. It’s humiliating, waiting to be rescued, unable to stand and walk the much longer distance back to the entrance, but it’s that distance that gives me the pride to endure the humiliation. Today, I almost made it.
Twenty more steps and I would have been at the opposite side, raising my hands in triumph as I plunged through the far double doors. If it hadn’t been for the mocking laughter, I would have gotten there.
Yeah, that’s a new setback. The faces in the mirrors have begun laughing at me, taunting me. I can’t hear words or sounds, thank god, or else I’d have to report auditory hallucinations to Nuzzi and she’d be sure to end my experimental self-treatment. But I know they’re laughing, the half-steel, half-flesh mouths agape, the teeth flashing in the curved half lips, the eyes bouncing around in their sockets.
I think I’m going to puke. Where the hell are they?
The covers have already dropped over the mirrors leading to the entrance. This isn’t some new endurance test. I push myself halfway to my feet and topple, landing on my backside, my knees too shaky to hold my weight.
Real badass, Corren.
It isn’t until I’ve crawled a dozen meters that it dawns on me something might be wrong.
I open the channel to the green room on my internal comm. “Kelly, you there?” My voice comes out thready and weak. Great.
No answer. Worse.
“Hey, Doc, could use a little help here,” I try again. No response. New chills that have nothing to do with my maze attempt ripple over my body. A painful hardness settles in my chest.
What’s going on out there? I ask VC1. I’ve avoided interacting with her when I’m in the maze. She’s an easy crutch to lean on, and I need to do this on my own, but everything about this situation is off. Even the pause before she answers goes on so long I’m afraid I’ve lost contact with her too.
I am unable to communicate with the rest of the facility.
“Oh, thank god,” I breathe aloud. “I mean, no, that’s bad. I’m just glad you answered.” I crawl faster, the adrenaline giving me strength. After a few more meters, I’m able to stand. Leaning on the covered mirrors for support, I stagger-run to where I came into the conference room.
Where the doors don’t open. Of course.
“VC1, can you—”
I cannot.
“Um… when we first got here, I had you insert yourself into their systems. You reassured me you could open any door on the property, including this one if necessary, though I told you not to unless there’s an emergency.” I pause, thinking about some of her more rigid programming. “You would consider this to be an emergency, right? You aren’t just keeping me in because I asked you to?”
An amused chuckle echoes over my internal speakers. No. This would indeed constitute an emergency. The humor vanishes from her tone. Someone has blocked my access to the facility’s systems, including the doors.
There’s only one person I’m aware of with the ability to do that. And with sudden clarity I realize what’s been bothering me so much about VC2’s failed attempts to breach the Klenar Facility’s security systems—she shouldn’t have been failing.
Shit. Anything VC1 can do, VC2 should also be capable of.
Okay, maybe not anything. VC1 is an AI, and VC2 hasn’t been operational long enough to evolve to that level. Right?
Your hypothesis is sound.
I jump at the unexpected response, staggering against the sealed doors. “You’re listening in on my personal thoughts again.”
This is an emergency.
I swear I can hear the smirk beneath her words.
“This isn’t the time for snark,” I tell her.
My research indicates witty banter helps defuse tension in stressful situations.
Not wasting time on arguing with that. I take a couple of deep breaths, trying to calm my ever-increasing anxiety, for myself and for Kelly and what VC2 might be up to out there.
I find the door’s access panel on the right and look for something to pry off the covering. I’m not carrying any gear beyond the armor, no tools. My nails are short and blunt, since I only grew them out for the Valeria persona. I send a sharp kick at the closest mirror, thinking maybe a piece of glass will do the trick, but it doesn’t even shift position, let alone crack or shatter. I do manage to dislodge the black fabric covering, so my metal skull can laugh at my pitiful attempts to do damage.
It is made of a reflective polycarbonate. Virtually indestructible. They were concerned you might try to get through the room by breaking all the mirrors.
I’d thought of that. But it would have defeated the purpose, and I was never quite freaked out enough to try it. I understand why they took the precaution, though.
Also, fuck.
Panting, I shift my position to face the sea of other mirrors leading back across the room. They are all covered.
“Okay, I can do this.”
You have already taxed your systems substantially. You are bordering on exhaustion.
“I don’t have a choice. Kelly’s out there.”
There is no guarantee that the doors on the far side will open either, if VC2 is truly in control.
“I have to take that chance.”
The AI falls silent.
Sweat beads on my forehead even though my palms are cold and clammy. “Calm the fuck down, Corren. The mirrors aren’t even visible. You’re just tired. You can work through tired.” I’m speaking out loud, hoping hearing my own voice will distract me from the tremors in my limbs.
It’s not working. I take a dozen steps back toward the far side and the doors I hope will unlock when I get there. If I get there. Deep breathing seems to help. I swipe the sweat away on my sleeve and keep going. Just as I round the fourth turn in the maze, there’s a soft click.
All the covers on the mirrors go up.
I close my eyes, dropping my head to my chest. “Oh, fuck me now.”
It appears VC2 has control over the equipment as well as the exterior cameras and doors.
“Yeah, I got that.” And it means the exit is even more likely to be locked to me, but I have to try. What else am I going to do? Opening my eyes, I face my disfigured reflection head-on. “Okay, bitch, let’s see what you’ve got.” It’s as much anger at her as encouragement to myself, since we are the same person after all. I can’t suppress a bark of harsh laughter.
You are raising concerns, my counterpart says in my head.
“Deal with it.”
Another twenty steps and I’m flat out yelling at my own image, using all the adrenaline-fueled rage and energy at my disposal, channeling my fear into anger. “Laugh all you want! Yeah, go ahead! That’s right. I’m hilarious, except you’re me. You’re me and I’m a fucking lunatic.” I’m shouting and slamming my tightened fist against each face I pass, counting off each mirror as a victory. “Twenty-seven, and fuck you! Thirty-one, you motherfucking nightmare. Thirty-nine, bitch. Yeah, that’s right.” If this does turn out to be some kind of new and very twisted test, Nuzzi is gonna wrap me in a straitjacket and lock me up for good.
And here I believed I was finally beginning to comprehend human behavior.
That earns a second laugh and another six steps.
By the time I hit the fiftieth mirror and what I’ve perceived to be about the halfway point, I’m hoarse from the yelling, raging, profanity-filled rant. My heart pounds. My pulse races. I’m dripping with sweat and can’t catch a full breath. Every last ounce of badass has abandoned me.
I’m not going to make it across.
As soon as I allow the thought, my knees buckle and I go down. I can’t even crawl. The mirrors are full-length, and I’m still catching glimpses of myself on both sides and in front at the next turn. On all fours in the middle of the walkway, I focus on the tile and heave air into my lungs. “What can you do for me?” I ask VC1. “Anything?”
You have already exhausted your adrenaline reserves. I took the liberty of setting your suppressors to full over twelve steps ago. I am sorry. I cannot think of any way I can assist you.
I manage a low growl, then stop when a sigh echoes in my head. “Hey,” I say softly. “I appreciate what you’ve done. When I’m yelling at the face in the mirrors, I’m not yelling at you. It’s not you I’m angry at. You know that, right?”
I know it now. A pause. I am, essentially, the metal and circuitry you persist in seeing. Sometimes it is difficult for me to tell at whom you are directing your disgust and hatred. I thank you for considering my feelings.
Is that what I just did? Yeah, I guess it was. I’ve acknowledged VC1’s capacity for emotions in the past, but I don’t think I’ve ever taken them into consideration when I’ve acted before now. I allow myself a small grin. “I’ll try to do better with that. You are so much more than metal and circuitry.”
So are you.
I let that sink in. She doesn’t say anything more, but the silence is companionable, not angry. I don’t know how I sense that, but it comes through. We’re an odd team, VC1 and I, but we are a team. So, how does this team solve this problem? I look up, not at the mirrors but at the ceiling, searching for inspiration. My eyes land on one of the overhead security cameras Kelly and Dr. Nuzzi have been using to monitor my progress.
“VC1, you said you couldn’t access anything outside this room. What about the cameras inside?”
A pause. Then, I am able to see you through the cameras in this room, yes, but I—
“Guide me,” I say, closing my eyes, rising to my feet, and bracing myself against a mirror.
Brilliant. I don’t have long to bask in the glory of her approval before she says, Forward four paces.
I’m unsteady as hell, but if I use both hands outstretched to the sides and grab the tops of each mirror I pass, I can remain upright. I take four steps.
And walk face-first into very hard polycarbonate.
“What the hell?” I release my grip on a mirror to rub the bridge of my nose—not broken, but very, very bruised.
Recalculating for your longer than usual stride. VC1 sounds miffed.
“I’m in a hurry.”
A sigh. And you gave me your complete trust. I apologize. I will endeavor to better live up to your faith in my guidance.
It goes faster after that, though with my eyes shut, the second half of the room seems to go on forever. When she at last tells me I’m facing the exit doors, I crack open first one eyelid, then the other. Then I slap my hand against the exit panel.
Nothing happens.
Of course the doors are locked. I flip myself so my back is against them and slide down until I’m seated on the floor facing the backs of the mirrors. I made it, dammit. I found a way across and I made it and I’m still fucking trapped in here.
What am I supposed to do now?