Cog (17 page)

Chapter 16

“What do you mean corporeal form?” Nicholle said. She could scarcely believe she was talking to a computer form of herself.

“We share the same brain wave pattern,” Cog Two said.

“Whoa, whoa hold on. How did you get my…pattern?”

“Wills Ryder designed the specifications. A female brain uses landmark memory at a higher rate. It aids in reassembling cellular structure.”

A glance askew to Chris.

“Why are you reassembling cellular structure?” Chris said.

“I program medinites to rearrange cellular structure to a downloaded personality to achieve brain wave pattern parity.”

“Downloaded personality? You mean like…” Xelo began.

“Taking over someone’s body. Turning it into you,” Nicholle said.

“Transference of consciousness,” Chris said. “So she was right.”

“Cog Two, do you know what happened to Geren Ryder? Why is he in a coma?” Nicholle said. It was worth a shot. The doctors hadn’t figured out what was wrong.

“I am suppressing his frontal lobe, as ordered by William Ryder.”

Nicholle closed her eyes, attempting to quell the rage rising within. She strained to control her voice.

“I order you to stop suppressing it”

“Suppression ceased,” Cog Two said.

Xelo and Chris stood, looking at her, dumbfounded. She ignored them and cogged her father, praying that he would answer. After three tries, he did. His image materialized, blurry at first, then crystal clear.

His dry lips resembled a mummy’s bandages. His eyes, however, shone with an intensity she had never seen.

“N-Nicholle, is that you? What’s…happened?” Geren said.

“Oh, Daddy. Wills put you in a coma. I think he was going to use you as a test subject in some experiment on consciousness transfer. You have to see the doctors so they don’t euthanize you.”

“Nicholle, I have something to tell you,” he said.

“I know, Daddy. Henroi told me about Perim. But forget him. Why would Wills do this to you?”

Geren sighed, then tears formed in his eyes.

“I should have told you, but I was afraid of losing you. I had an affair with Perim’s mother. It was a hard birth and I went to the hospital to see them. When your mother found out, we had a loud fight. Wills overheard us. Part of it. He didn’t know the whole story, as far as I knew. But your mother stormed out. Flew off to Paris. Only…”

He stopped. Nicholle knew the rest. Two dead, her mother and the pilot. Engine failure. Dental records had to identify the bodies.

“Wills blamed me for that. And I couldn’t stand to look at him, knowing that he knew. He hated me.”

“That’s why you were never home,” she said. “That’s why. And you’ve known all this time about Perim.”

“I disowned them both and fixed it so she’d never get a job making higher than minimum wage so she’d never come after me legally. I’m…sorry, Nicholle,” her father said.

Her father had always seemed larger than life before. Rich businessman. Shrewd investor. Pillar of the community. Could do anything, say anything he pleased. And no one would say otherwise. But now—

“Can you walk?”

He swung his legs off the bed and stood up.

“Seems I can.” He beamed. “The medi—”

“Good. Get yourself a cab.” She closed the call.

“Cog Two, lock out William Ryder’s authorization.” She turned to Chris. “We need to get to AmHo and find out what the hell’s going on.”

b

Cog Two had disabled security, or if Nicholle thought about it, she had disabled it.
Too bizarre.
She, Chris, and Xelo headed down the hall toward Wills’ office. At one o’clock in the morning, no one was likely to be there. Employees had long since packed up and left, except for the dedicated programmers on the third floor. But they hardly wandered, holed up in their offices, subsisting on toaster tarts and cheese slices slipped under their doors by concerned coworkers.

But voices carried down the hall.“—reasonable.” A woman’s voice.

“How the hell did you know I was here?” Wills’ voice.

“Funny thing about security measures. The more you have, the more unique of an output signature you have. I just followed the trail. Too smart for your own good.”

The group walked through a palm frond magfield into Wills’ office. Nicholle hadn’t expected to see anyone, but she was presented with a family reunion. Perim stood behind a desk, facing Wills, who stood on the other side. A woman held a gun on both of them.

“What are you doing here?” Wills and Perim spoke in unison.

“How sweet. Two peas in a pod,” Thia said.

“Who is she?” Nicholle said.

“A friend,” Wills said.

“Tsk tsk. Oh, but we were so much more than that.” She looked at Nicholle. “Don’t you remember? I’m Thia. We met before, when you killed me. Remember?”

“You? But you were—”

“Dead, yes. I got an upgrade.”

“Transfer of consciousness,” Nicholle whispered. “It works.”

“Now all I need are the data from the clinical trials, Wills,” Thia said. “Or rather, the government does. And I’ll be on my way. We’ll get back to you about a percentage.”

“You expect me to believe you’ll just let me walk out of here?” Wills said. “I don’t think so. I need leverage. Patent pending.”

“Think again.”

She pointed the blaster at him. He ignored her and turned his attention toward Nicholle, smiling at her.

“So you figured it out. Excellent. Now, tell Cog Two to—”

“I’m not doing anything for you, Wills. Do you think I’m going to be in league with you, with death, over money?”

Wills threw back his head and laughed, a resonant tone rumbling in his chest. “That’s rich, coming from an ex-drug dealer. Tell me, how many of your customers pakzed out, dying in some abandoned building? Or some skeemzer who had his neurons fried to hell sitting on his bed? A little self-righteous, don’t you think?”

“How dare you,” she said. The comment cut. Because it was true.

“I dare because I was the one who took you in after you came crawling back, wired out, broke, and filthy. I was the one who cleaned you up.”

“I cleaned myself up. I was the one who went through—”

“Spare us all. The only reason you came back was because your pimp got tired of you and set you up. He realized you weren’t the moneybags he wanted. Guess you were too wired to know you were being used.”

“I knew more than you think.”

“Then you’re dumber than I thought for putting up with trash like Tuma.”

“He’s more of a man than you’ll ever be.”

Wills moved lightening fast. A blur, he grabbed Thia’s arm and snatched it forward, catching her off balance. He swung a leg around and she tripped. He caught her and wrenched the gun from her, pointed it at her head. Then he transferred the aim to Perim.

“It’s time for you to go, Perim.”

Before Wills could aim straight, Perim ducked behind his desk. Wills fired. The top half of the desk charred. Scent of a roaring fire rose up.

Nicholle, Chris, and Xelo dove for the floor. Perim extended a leg and snatched up a lason strapped to his ankle. He fired it at Wills, who was rounding the overturned desk. The blue flare singed Wills’ face in half, a scorched V where his right eye had been. But he had already fingered the trigger before he fell, squeezing off another shot. It acquired the target. A thump as Perim’s hand dropped. The top of Perim’s head showed through the space under the desk—a blackened plateau.

Thia and Nicholle eyed each other, stomachs flat on the ground. Nicholle didn’t know whether Thia still harbored murderous tendencies toward her. She tensed.

“Now that’s poetic justice,” Thia said. “But I guess that means you’re president now. So I’ll be taking the data.”

“Care to negotiate?” Nicholle said.

Thia grinned.

Epilogue

The “Prado in Anacostia” exhibit loomed before Nicholle, Chris, Tuma, and Reya as they stood in the crisp air of an April morning. The line snaked down the riverside, but moved steadily. Children ran and played or fidgeted in line for the carnival rides.

“Now this…is what it’s all about,” Nicholle said, extending both arms in a grand gesture.

Tuma’s color had returned. Nicholle had negotiated probation for him in lieu of drug charges. He’d passed off his empire to Zee, who was forced to jettison the illegal activity, which left him with gambling and prostitution. Still lucrative.

Nicholle had hired Tuma as European Liaison; he had, in his first month, charmed not only the Guggenheim for holographic rights to
Accompanied Contrast,
but the Catherine Palace for the Amber Room.

“I’d love to stay, but I have to get back to the office,” Chris said. “Congratulations on the opening.”

“All right, Mr. President,” Nicholle said, grabbing him by the lapel. “Don’t forget we have to view the wedding reception hall at seven.”

“That’s why I’m heading back to the office, to get some work done so I can leave in time.” He gave her a peck on the cheek.

“Bye, Reya, Tuma.” He waved and jogged off toward his car.

“Hm, so…” Tuma began. “…what’s next? Guggenheim in Glover Park? Hermitage in Herndon?”

“Actually…I’m thinking of the restored city of Thebes with Luxor Temple on the National Mall,” Nicholle said.

“Tricky,” Reya said. “I’m not sure you’ll be able to get approval.”

“Oh, there’s a Senator McKay who I think would be most enthusiastic about it,” Nicholle said. “In fact, make an appointment.”

About the Author

Daughter to a U.S. Army father, K. Ceres Wright has lived in Anchorage, AK; Chicago, IL; Baltimore, MD; Frankfurt, Oberursel, and Munich, Germany; Seoul, Korea; and the Washington Metropolitan Area. She attended undergraduate school at the University of Maryland, College Park, with a double major in economics and finance, then worked for 10 years as a credit and treasury analyst before deciding to change careers.

Wright received her Master’s degree in Writing Popular Fiction from Seton Hill University in Greensburg, PA, and
Cog
was her thesis novel for the program. An accomplished poet, Wright’s science fiction poem “Doomed” was a nominee for the Rhysling Award, the Science Fiction Poetry Association’s highest honor. Her work has appeared in
Hazard Yet Forward
;
Genesis: An Anthology of Black Science Fiction
;
Many Genres, One Craft
; and
The 2008 Rhysling Anthology
.

She currently works as an editor/writer for a management consulting firm and lives in Crofton, MD, with her son, Ian, and daughter, Chloe. Visit her website at http://www.kcereswright.com and find her on Twitter @KCeresWright.