Brainrush 05 - Everlast 02: Ephemeral Read online

  The man stopped abruptly.

  “Hello?” Marshall asked. “Are you there?

  “Something’s come up,” the voice said with an air of urgency. “We’ll have to postpone our conversation until later.”

  “I just need to—”

  “Right now I have other matters that must be attended to. In the meantime, make yourself at home. There’s a shaving kit and a fresh set of clothes in the bathroom. The other residents don’t know why you’re here but I’m quite sure you’ll be heartily welcomed. Some of them are quite anxious to meet you.”

  “Now hold on, dammit.”

  “Until later, Mr. Erickson.”

  “Wait, wait!” Marshall yelled, holding his wristband toward the camera. “What the hell are these things?”

  “Oh, the bracelets are nothing more than a visitor ID tag. As you’ll discover, you’re in a secure facility. The bracelets allow the system to track your location and provide you with appropriate access to various levels, depending on your clearance. It also allows us to monitor your vitals. Everyone in the facility has a similar device, although permanent employees have theirs embedded in a subcutaneous chip. Now, really, I must go.”

  “Wait!” Marshall pleaded. But the voice had disappeared. He stood frozen for a moment, trying to take it all in.

  Drugged and carted halfway around the world? A dorm room in a secure location? An anonymous voice over a speaker? It was nuts. What’s next? Professor Xavier from X-Men rolling out in his wheelchair?

  The craziest aspect of this whole scenario was that when the man had said “dangerous people” were after him, Marshall hadn’t flinched. Unfortunately, that’s the one thing that had made sense, which was one hell of a testament to the turn his life had taken ever since Jake caught that spiraling beer mug back at Sammy’s bar so long ago. He had no regrets about the choice he’d made to stick by his best friend, especially since it had ultimately led him to the love of his life, but it sure wasn’t the life he’d planned for himself back in the high-school counselor’s office. He’d learned a lot since then, and took pride in the fact that his analytical mind and computer skills had gotten Jake and the others out of a lot of jams. He’d have to rely on those same skills to get him and Lacey out of this current mess.

  He steeled himself for what lay ahead. He knew a game when he saw one and sensed he’d been dumped smack in the middle of a grand one. This was one hell of an elaborate setup, and the man’s failure to mention Jake’s name was a dead giveaway. This had to be about Jake.

  Isn’t it always?

  He’d play along for now, until he knew for sure Lacey was safe and out of it. Then he’d find a way to turn the tables. In the meantime, he needed to get the lay of the land and he knew just where to start. After all, hadn’t the dude on the speaker said the other residents were anxious to meet him?

  Well, guess what, boys and girls? I’m anxious to meet you, too.

  Chapter 5

  Hong Kong

  FIFTEEN MINUTES LATER Marshall exited the room wearing khakis, a long-sleeved shirt, and a pair of black, high-top sneakers. The fact that the shoes were his favorite style—and the clothes were a perfect fit—wasn’t lost on him. It reinforced his sense that his adversaries were pros.

  He turned a corner and the hallway opened to a common area that was roughly double the length of a high school gymnasium. The windowless space was softly illuminated by an assortment of drop-down lighting. It was subdivided by short walls, furniture groups, and activities, reminding him of the floor of an upscale convention center. There were several lounge areas, a dining section, and even an exercise area with cardio and weight machines. The sounds of idle conversation mixed with the chatter from several televisions, topped off by the distinctive patter of Ping-Pong balls from the other side of the room. But he was starving and it was the smell of food that captured his attention—that and the fact that more and more of the room’s occupants were looking his way.

  They were Asian, ranging in age from late teens to twenties, and they all wore black bottoms and white tops. Whether it was slacks, skirts, pullovers, or shirts, the white-over-black color code seemed regimented. Even those wearing workout clothes in the gym area adhered to it.

  Marshall returned their stares with a short wave. He was rewarded with a score of raised hands, wide smiles, and anxious whispers. He’d seen crowd reactions like that before whenever Lacey entered a room, but never for him. It made no sense and only added to his confusion.

  One of the younger boys rose from his chair and rushed toward him. “I can’t believe it’s really you,” the slender kid said. He appeared to be sixteen or seventeen. He wore thick-framed glasses over eyes that beamed with eagerness. The small cluster of pimples on his chin reminded Marshall of his own high school days.

  “My name’s Chen,” the kid said, extending his hand. His English was Americanized, with only a hint of an accent. “You can call me Dolphin. That’s my handle...well, actually it’s Dolphin-182, since Dolphins 1 through 181 were already taken.” The boy’s words tumbled out with unfiltered enthusiasm. “We all use our handles around here. Why Dolphin, you may ask? Because I move fastest when I’m out of sight, and I can pop up where your least expect it.”

  Marshall shook the boy’s hand, smiling despite the circumstances. “Nice to meet you... Dolphin,” he said. “I’m Marshall.”

  The boy frowned. “Marshall?”

  “Yep.”

  “Not TurboHacker?”

  “Well, sure,” Marshall said, surprised that the boy knew his handle. “But call me Marshall, okay?”

  “Oh, okay,” the boy said hesitantly. “So, can I give you a tour?”

  “Later. Right now I’m starving.”

  Dolphin grinned. “Then you’re in for a treat. I swear, the man that runs our kitchen is one of the best chefs in Kowloon. Follow me.”

  The chairs were padded, the table was set with a white tablecloth, and the aromas from the steaming platters surrounding Marshall made his mouth water. He started with a variety of dim sum appetizers and some of the best fried wontons he’d ever tasted. After a cup of shark fin soup, he moved on to noodles, braised rice, and entrées. Marshall devoured the feast while they spoke.

  “Do you always eat this much?” Dolphin asked.

  “Only when I’m jet-lagged.” Or drugged. “So what’s the deal here?” he said, motioning with his chopsticks to the room in general.

  “This is where we hang out when we’re not working or sleeping. Anything one could want for fun and relaxation is right here.” Dolphin pointed to several sets of double doors along the far wall. “We’ve even got a karaoke room, a theater, and a game room that’ll blow your brain.”

  Marshall chuckled. “You mean blow my mind?”

  Dolphin frowned. “Oh, yeah. Blow your mind. Sorry.”

  “Just pulling your chain, kid,” Marshall said between bites. “You speak English as if you were raised in the States.”

  “Dude, I’m stoked to hear you say it,” Dolphin said with a grin. “My favorite language teacher was a former skateboarder from California.”

  “I can tell, dude.”

  “I’ve been speaking English since I was four years old.” Dolphin motioned toward the scatter of people around them. “It’s pretty much the same for all of us. English is the default language online, so it’s the first thing we learn when we’re enlisted in the program.”

  “The program?”

  Dolphin hesitated, fidgeting in his seat, and Marshall got the sense the kid was struggling with how much he was allowed to talk about. Marshall tried a different tack. “So, how is it that you were elected to come talk to me?”

  “Are you kidding?” Dolphin said, with relief. “Nobody elected me. I volunteered.”

  “And why’s that?”

  “Come on. You know why. You’re famous around here.”

  “I see,” Marshall said. But he didn’t see. He didn’t have a clue what the kid was talking about. He poured him
self a second cup of tea and took a sip. “So, this is where you hang out to eat, play, and relax. What about work?”

  “One floor up,” Dolphin said, pointing to the ceiling. “The twenty-fourth floor. That’s where most of us work.”

  “That’s convenient,” Marshall said, marveling that he hadn’t realized he was in a high-rise building. He hadn’t spotted any windows so he’d assumed he was underground.

  “Yeah, I guess. Especially now that the game is about to be released to the general public. We’ve been running in alternating eight-hour shifts, twenty-four seven.”

  The game?

  “And your role?”

  “Programmer. But I’m also on one of the testing teams for the beta rollout. Believe it or not, I’ve played against you online. It was awesome. Not that I stood a chance against you. I can’t wait to watch you play in person.”

  Marshall’s confusion got the better of him. “I’m here for more than a game,” he mumbled to himself, the words spilling out louder than intended.

  Dolphin frowned. “Really? What else?”

  Good question, Marshall thought. Whatever was going on here, the kid appeared to be an innocent pawn, and—for now—Marshall’s only source of information. He needed Dolphin to keep talking, so he leaned forward and lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “If I tell you, I’ll have to kill you.”

  Dolphin blinked a couple of times, then grinned. “Top secret, huh?” he whispered.

  “Oh, yeah,” Marshall said, with a flick of his eyebrows. He dipped a dumpling in sweet chili sauce, bit it in half, and said with a full mouth, “Mum’s the word.” After taking a sip of tea, he motioned toward a group of six other teens who hovered nearby. They shifted anxiously when Marshall glanced their way. “Are those your friends?” he asked.

  Dolphin followed his gaze and smiled. “Yes, that’s my beta team. Do you mind if they join us?”

  “Why not?” Marshall said. He waved them over.

  They scurried over faster than fans around a pop star, then pulled up chairs and squeezed around the table. But instead of attacking with a barrage of questions, they contained their enthusiasm, waiting politely while Dolphin made introductions.

  “This is BlackFlag...” he said, pointing to the stout boy seated across from Marshall. The kid bowed his head. The others did the same as each was introduced. “And Tornado, TomBoy, Whomper, Bambi, and finally, Shamer.”

  “Shamer?” Marshall asked the petite girl, knowing each handle had a story behind it. She’d made a point of sitting next to Dolphin.

  “Play me twice and shame on you,” she blurted out, blushing as if suddenly realizing who she was speaking to. “I-I mean, usually I end up on top—uh, I mean, I’ll beat your score in the game once I’ve seen your play style. Of course, I don’t mean to suggest that I’d have any chance if I played against you.” BlackFlag chuckled at her backpedaling. She burned a glare at him.

  “You’re all programmers?”

  “Sure,” Shamer said. “But we specialize in different disciplines. Dolphin and I are on the primary programming team.”

  BlackFlag punched Tornado on the shoulder. “He and I are on the design team.”

  “And we’re on the art team,” Bambi said, motioning toward TomBoy and Whomper.

  “But we’re all on the testing team,” Dolphin added.

  A server cleared Marshall’s plates and a second one brought a round of soft drinks. Marshall kept the conversation going, easing into it with questions about their experience and background. Their enthusiasm for their work was seconded only by the expertise they exhibited in each of their specialties. As the conversation grew more technical in nature, he was impressed by their familiarity with leading-edge algorithms and techniques that, up until now, he’d thought were closely held secrets in the US. As he probed further, he discovered their knowledge wasn’t limited to the gaming world. These kids talked code like some of the top programmers on the circuit. And he ought to know, because he’d climbed the ladder with some of the best hackers in the world.

  He liked these kids, and a part of him envied the supportive environment they’d been provided. He couldn’t help but wonder what could have been achieved back home if twenty years earlier, he and a hundred other kids with his abilities had been pulled together in similar surroundings. Instead, corporate competition and government hacker hunts had driven them into isolated groups, each one guarding its secrets. Technological advances had suffered as a result.

  There was something off about this setup, though—the uniforms, the polite behavior, the subdued energy, as compared to what he’d experienced in his own school days. It was almost too structured, especially for kids with such brilliant minds. And he couldn’t shake the feeling that the kids shared an underlying sense of fear.

  Chapter 6

  Hong Kong

  MARSHALL NOTICED A COUPLE of residents watching from a nearby table. The two men appeared to be in their late twenties and their wary expressions made him uneasy. “What’s up with those guys?” he asked, nodding in their direction.

  Several of the kids glanced over, but then quickly turned back.

  “They’re yellows,” Dolphin said under his breath.

  “Yellows?”

  Dolphin held out his left wrist, palm up. With his other hand he pinched the skin, and a symbol the size of a quarter illuminated just beneath the surface. It glowed with a neon green hue. “We’re greens. They’re yellows. They work on the twenty-fifth floor.”

  “What goes on up there?”

  Dolphin and the others exchanged furtive glances. Too casually, Dolphin said, “Don’t know. We’re only greens.”

  Marshall accepted the dodge but he knew better. These kids were kindred spirits, and he knew from his own experiences that locked secrets were a challenge few hackers could turn away from. The bigger the secret, the bigger the invitation to show off your skills. He asked, “So greens work on the twenty-fourth, yellows on the twenty-fifth, and never the twain shall meet. Is that it?”

  “That’s the idea,” Dolphin said. The others nodded quickly.

  Marshall leaned forward. “Really?” he whispered.

  Dolphin’s lips tightened. Finally, he lowered his voice and said, “If I told you, I’d have to kill you.”

  “Touché,” Marshall said, smiling. “At least tell me this much,” he said. He unbuttoned his cuff to reveal one of the bracelets. “What color am I?”

  “Blue,” Dolphin and Shamer said in unison. They chuckled and nudged each other playfully.

  “Ugh. Get a room,” BlackFlag said.

  “Gag me,” Whomper added.

  “Blue?” Marshall asked.

  “It limits your access to this floor,” Dolphin said. “It’s a temporary ID tag. Used by new arrivals until they get their implant.”

  Rolling up his other sleeve, Marshall said, “So why do I have two of them?”

  There was a collective gasp and the kids stiffened. Dolphin moved closer to inspect the bracelets. He ran his finger along the metallic edge of one of the bracelets. “One of the new models?” he muttered.

  “Careful,” BlackFlag whispered.

  “Seriously,” Tornado said.

  “Okay, guys,” Marshall said. “You’re starting to freak me out.”

  “Much thicker,” Dolphin said, turning one of Marshall’s wrists so he could examine the other side. “No actuator or manual release. Clever design.”

  “Designed to do what, exactly?” Marshall asked.

  Dolphin lowered his voice. “The standard bracelets are nothing more than an ID badge with built-in access controls. But there have been rumors—”

  “Shhh,” Shamer said. A group of three residents had just sat down at the table beside them. From their age and stiff demeanor, Marshall guessed the new arrivals were yellows.

  Dolphin accepted the rebuke and Marshall noticed him squeezing Shamer’s hand under the table. He said to Marshall, “For now, I’d recommend remaining on this floor
.” His voice was light and casual but his gaze was intense.

  Marshall nodded, rolling his sleeves back down. The mood at the table had grown anxious so he changed the subject.

  “So, where are you all from?”

  “All over the mainland,” Tornado said. “I’m from a village in Hebei province. So is Whomper. Out of thirty-four provinces, we have people from twenty-nine of them in this building alone.”

  “There are others besides those of you who work here?”

  “Of course,” Shamer said, suppressing a smile. “The program has been in place for over twenty years. Compulsory aptitude testing is conducted throughout China. It begins before a child’s first year in school. It’s a great honor when someone is chosen and it’s celebrated in grand fashion in towns and villages. Afterwards, candidates are sent to specialized boarding schools. There are many thousands of us.”

  Many thousands? All working together with a common cyber goal? Under the authority of the Chinese government? Marshall shivered at the thought of it.

  Shamer frowned. “Most of the others work in large facilities near Beijing and other major cities. Those of us here were taken from those centers, all on the same night. We’ve never been given an explanation.” She sighed. “We haven’t even been permitted to speak to our families.”

  As if to lighten the tone by getting back on the subject, Bambi said, “I’m from Chengdu in Sichuan province.”

  “Beijing,” Dolphin said. “Same as Shamer.”

  “Jiangsu,” TomBoy chimed in.

  BlackFlag said, “And I’m from a village in Fujian Province.” He puffed out his chest and added, “The same as DarkMatter—uh, I mean, Master Jiaolong.”

  DarkMatter? Marshall knew that handle. Heck, any gamer worth his salt knew that name. DarkMatter had been one of the top-ranked players in the world when Marshall was younger.

  “Master Jiaolong, huh?” Marshall asked, his anger rising. “Is he the dude in charge?”

  The kids exchanged curious looks. “Of course,” Dolphin said. “This is his company.”

  Shamer leaned in and whispered, “We think he bribed someone to have us brought here two years ago.”