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The view of the city as the ferry approached the dock wasn’t the Manhattan he knew. The flow of pedestrians had vanished from the streets. The city was deserted, leaving billboards looping their flashing neon message to nothing but empty buildings. A structure could be seen in the near distance. It was a cube of concrete without windows, imposing itself where it didn’t belong.
Morgan descended to the ferry’s lower level to find the passengers were all gone. The vehicles on the lower deck had all disappeared. Panicked, he ran off the ferry and through the streets. He was instinctively drawn to the cube building. At the base of the staircase he stopped, out of breath.
“The Building of Transfers...” he whispered to himself.
He walked up to the building and placed his hand against the cold concrete. Everything he was doing was so familiar. He had done this before. He walked around the perimeter to find the entrance. A laser scanned his eye, and the door hissed opened.
“You can’t go in twice.” The voice came from a woman, sitting on a park bench at the base of the staircase. It was Vi. Pigeons were pecking the ground around her.
“Why are you here?” He joined her.
“Because you want answers.”
“You’re communicating with me,” he said. “From the other reality.”
“No, not now. Perhaps one day we shall see each other for real,” she said. “Depends on how well you progress.”
“Progress? What do you mean?”
“You’re capable of so much more than you think, Morgan.”
“What can I do?”
“That is the wrong question to ask.”
“Then what is the right question?”
“You should ask what you are incapable of doing?”
“I control automatic processes—”
Vi laughed. “Omar was right. Not only was he good at creating electronic gadgets, but he also understood behaviors like no other. He knew how people would react. Like you, right now, he said you wouldn’t grasp the extent of your ability.”
“How...”
“The physical laws—for lack of better words—are rules imposed upon our reality. They are imposed to mimic a reality that has no reason to exist here, in this simulation.”
“But beyond this simulation, they do exist.”
“Oh, they must exist somewhere, wherever your biological brain is stored. Otherwise, all my research has been a waste of effort.”
“This dream isn’t a simulation.”
“Nothing is more real than this dream fully contained in your mind. It is the only space where the Qintellect does not interfere. The privacy of the mind was one of the pivotal principles of the Founding Forty, the group who defined the rules of Replika. That is the reason the memories of me have been inserted in you, within your mind”—she now whispered— “to have this discussion in total privacy.”
“In my dreams the rules of physics also apply.”
“Because they are so instinctive to you. You can break free of them if you want to, like in Replika.”
“In Replika, the Qintellect enforces them for others.”
“The Qintellect’s role, a role of immense computational complexity, is to contain individual perceptions into a coherent whole. The constraints of the rules of physics are maintained by your own mind. You’ve been trained to respect them. What Omar and I have done is lifted this barrier, allowing you to change the context of your reality simply by perceiving it. The reality you perceive is fully yours to dictate. You are not bound by physics.”
“If gravity, space, and time no longer exist on me, shouldn’t I be able to do anything?”
“There is one law that is limiting you, coherence. You cannot escape it. Coherence is what holds everything together, like how gravity holds the universe together. This law makes sure two people experience the same world from their own perspective. Since others are bound by the rules of physics, and you are part of their world, coherence prevents you from doing things that would be perceptibly incoherent to others.”
“Why did I think I could reprogram automated processes...”
“You know the answer to that,” Vi said.
Morgan thought about this for a moment. “Those processes remain invisible to others, so it was my way of controlling reality without breaking the law of coherence.”
“Exactly! These things you did may be inexplicable to them, but they didn’t defy the rules of physics from an immediate sensorial perspective.”
“I once tried to move an empty cup on a tramway floor. It didn’t work because someone else was also watching it?”
“The cup couldn’t move on its own if someone else was watching it. But you are only limited by your creativity. You could have shaken the tramway to make it tumble over. Or, a gust of wind could have blown it aside.”
He had trouble grasping the full potential of what he could do but realized it was far more than he had first envisioned. There was something else that was bothering him from a comment she’d made earlier.
“You said my biological brain was stored somewhere. Isn’t it in there?” he said, glancing at the concrete cube. “Stored in the real Building of Transfers, in my previous life.”
“That’s a difficult topic.” Vi sighed, before continuing. “It is best to be blunt about it. The reality in which I was your mother, was another simulation. The simulations are nested within one another. I entered a reality to become your mother, in the same way you entered Replika.”
“Was that reality real?”
Vi shrugged,
“You don’t know if reality exists. Then how can we know if our brains are truly stored somewhere.”
“I’ve proven it mathematically; the human mind surpasses the Qintellect in complexity.”
“That doesn’t seem possible.”
“It doesn’t, I agree. Our mind doesn’t want to admit its own superiority. I’d like to discuss this with you, but considering the fragility of sleep, perhaps we should discuss more pressing matters.”
“Henry?” he said.
She nodded.
“Can he do the same things as me?” he asked.
“What we did to him was different. He’s linked to the Qintellect, giving him access to their information. Anything stored or recorded is within his reach.”
“That must be why he can track my every move.”
“Possibly, but unlike you, he cannot escape the properties of physical reality.”
“But if he has access to the data, he could reproduce what you did to me.”
“We destroyed everything. The records have been burned, our notebooks destroyed. The way he could manage to reproduce what we’ve done is if he had access to what’s up there.” She pointed at his head. “He mustn’t get to you.”
“Why did you do this to us? What were you trying to accomplish.” Vi remained silent and watched the pigeons around her feet. Morgan continued, “Last time, in the pizzeria, you said it was a mistake.”
“Henry was a mistake.”
“Was it just a game? Seeing how you could hack our brains?”
“No,” she said. “We needed you to stop him. If ever he decided to do what we feared. You’re the only one who stands a chance of stopping him.”
“Then why did you send Sky to kill me?”
She turned away from him. Menacing clouds tumbled across the sky, bringing darkness. Thunder rumbled. Vi stood and walked into the gust that swayed her shawl flailing behind her.
“Wait,” he called to her, “why are you leaving?”
She paused. A crack of lightning flashed behind her as she turned. “Your anger is chasing me away.”
The sound of thunder blasted as if next to his ear. The thunder resonated beside him. Striking again and again and again.
***
A man in a ferry uniform was slapping the vent next to Morgan’s head.
“Wake up,” he shouted. “This ain’t no motel. Docking in two minutes. Get your things ready.”
“Sorry,” Morgan said, pulling down on the rim of his hat. He was getting up and said, “Give me a sec. My legs are numb.”
“I don’t want to find you loitering around later, understand?” The ferry employee left.
Morgan waited for the docking to be finished before approaching the passenger lounge, which was mostly empty as everyone had lined up at the exit gates. Morgan stood in the back, watching the display on the wall, which played the live 24WRLD news stream.
The news anchor said, “It is now New York’s turn to be threatened by the Red Masks. Military and law enforcement are asked to immediately evacuate from the city. The mayor has declared a curfew and asks the streets to remain clear until further notice. A list of secure locations for citizens have been released by the Red Masks. The government is urging citizens to not enter these places as their safety remains unclear. As was reported earlier...”
The broadcast now showed an excerpt from Aviva’s earlier report.
“The Red Masks had no mercy and followed through with their threat in Paris. They killed thousands of military personnel and law enforcement. There is no reason to believe they will act any differently in New York. Their weapons are mysterious and powerful, and as we speak, the U.S. government cannot offer protection from them. I urge those identified as being in danger to immediately leave the city. There is no room for complacency. Civilians are in no immediate danger but should remain indoors and away from windows.”
The broadcast returned to the news desk.
Morgan watched the people leaving the boat into Manhattan. They left despite the issued warnings. But he noticed something strange he hadn’t noticed until then. The passengers on this boat weren’t the typical mid-afternoon workers. They also didn’t look like the type to stroll the streets of New York leisurely. No, they were mostly mothers and children. Poorly dressed and carrying nothing with them. It didn’t make sense for them to be heading into the eye of the storm.
His attention was drawn to the news again as his image appeared on the display.
“In an interesting twist of events, it has been revealed that Morgan Maverick Doyle, the first known member of the Red Masks, who escaped military facilities days ago, has been found to be in an intimate relationship with our reporter Aviva. Initial intelligence reports suggest his goal was to gain access to her network within the French Military. Asked about this earlier today, Aviva had this to say,
“My relationship with Morgan was superficial. I can reassure the international community that confidential information was never shared with this man. I continue to cooperate with intelligence and national defense to understand his motives and to make sure I remain safe.”
Morgan stumbled out of the lounge and leaned against the boat’s railing.
“You again,” said the employee from earlier. “Due to the evacuation, you can stay for the return t—”
He shook his head, feeling seasick, and headed toward the exit.
A soon as he stepped onto the street, a man grabbed him from behind. Two other men arrived, one on each side, to box him in and prevent him from escaping.
“Don’t try anything funny. You’re coming with us.”
He didn’t reply or struggle. He hardly noticed the men guiding him as he remained in a dumb haze. Those terrible words echoed in his mind... My relationship with him was superficial...
