Shattered Minds Read online

  ‘It’s not enough, though,’ Charlie says. ‘Not yet.’

  ‘I agree,’ Dax says. ‘They’d be able to weasel out of this. It’s a start, but only that.’

  Raf narrows his eyes. ‘Stop killing my buzz.’

  Dax shrugs. ‘Buzz away.’

  Raf throws up a middle finger as an answer. Dax rolls his eyes.

  ‘Stop bickering,’ Charlie says. Her fingertips are raised, scrolling through the information, her eyes speed-reading, lips pressed together. Charlie pauses. She flicks forward.

  ‘Charlie, go back,’ Dax says.

  She takes a breath, then does. Dax and Raf read. Their eyes dart to her and then back to the information on the screen.

  ‘Charlie,’ Dax says, slowly. ‘Why didn’t you tell us the reason you left the Mantel family was because you stole over a trillion credits from them and therefore Sudice?’

  ‘Wow. You’re like another step removed from the black sheep of that family,’ Raf says, giving a low whistle and leaning back. ‘You’re the freaking wolf.’

  ‘I knew you had money,’ Dax says. ‘That’s . . . a lot of money.’

  ‘Touching you haven’t hacked into my bank accounts, I guess, Raf. I had to fund the Trust somehow.’ She gazes up at the file, licking her lips. ‘I thought I’d covered my tracks. I thought they didn’t know it was me.’ Her voice has gone low and flat with fear. Dax wonders what it has been like for her to grow up under the shadow of that family. To be raised around so much money that a million credits feels like pocket change. To be that far removed from how actual people live.

  Dax toys with the ends of his hair. ‘God, way too much money, Charlie. They knew the minute you left. They don’t know how, and they covered it up. Didn’t want anyone else getting ideas.’

  ‘Think what the media bots would do if they found out,’ Raf says. ‘It’d be carnage.’

  Charlie shrugs. ‘Whatever. The media bots haven’t found a thing. And they won’t. Congratulations, you now know why I left.’

  Dax has never heard such bitterness in her voice. ‘Not really,’ he says. ‘We know you stole money and can’t go back. We still don’t really know what turned you against your own family.’

  She glances up at the wallscreen again. Her face is a blank mask. ‘It wasn’t any one thing. All the titbits that trickled down to me over the years. I was nineteen when I realized the company my family owned was responsible for far too many deaths. That they had a hand in every war during the Great Upheaval, provided all the weapons. There’s so many secrets stuffed within that company, and they’re literally getting away with murder and then some. You all know this as well as I do. There was not just one thing. There were thousands.’

  Raf flicks to the next file. It’s his. There’s not much on Raf that the group doesn’t know about already. For someone who is very good at hiding the secrets of his past from the internet, the government and the police, he is very honest to the Trust about his past. He’s told them how he stumbled into hacking as a kid and became good enough that, when he was twelve, the FBI knocked on his mother’s door and nearly gave her a heart attack. They had recruited him to work for them by the time he was sixteen, and he was one of the pivotal inventors of Wasps, which he regrets. Security AI Waspbots, strong enough to kill someone if they’re using a virtual reality interface to go somewhere online they shouldn’t be. He invented the very thing that hurt Tam. Dax tries not to resent him for that. Some days that’s easier than others. He reaches up to toy with his sister’s necklace.

  The government’s choice to put Raf close to all those state and federal secrets proved to be a mistake. Raf grew close to another hacker named Aster – Dax only learned about him from Charlie – and that name isn’t in the file. Aster found out something, planned to go public. Instead, he disappeared. Dead, put in stasis – the same thing, really. It was Raf’s turning point. He rifled through all their secrets, and then found out a lot about other corporations.

  Raf had a hand in the downfall of one of Sudice’s subsidiaries, Truglio, and when the government realized one of their own hackers was the one behind it, he had to leave, and fast. He went deep underground but still kept an eye on things.

  Raf and Charlie had been childhood friends, though neither of them ever went into the details of where and how they met. They’d grown apart, but Raf always made sure to leave small, encrypted breadcrumbs so Charlie could find him. When she was kicked out by her family, she definitely needed him. He took her in and gave her a new identity.

  At first, they hoped that they could take down Sudice on their own, but they soon realized they would need at least a little more help, if there was any chance of actually doing the impossible. They began recruiting.

  Raf found Tam. She had always been wary of large corporations, and had little faith in Pacifica’s commitment to due process. Dax and Tam had grown up away from the rampant obsession with perfection, in a place where tech was not integrated into every experience. All through her youth, Tam had been an activist outside the Timbisha reservation, trying to make a difference. She’d been arrested and fined dozens of times, Dax always bailing her out. Tam had studied law, hoping to make a difference the legal way, but she’d been stopped at every turn by the government or Sudice. So she’d learned to hack, and had become good enough that Raf noticed. She wasn’t as adept at covering her tracks as she thought she was, and if Raf hadn’t stepped in, she would have been discovered. Raf probably saved her life.

  Dax’s own backstory is rather boring in comparison. He grew up with Tam in Timbisha, close to his family. He told them he was trans at age eight, and changed his name and clothing immediately. At puberty, the tribe supported his transition, and he took puberty blockers for a few years, then hormones, and visited a flesh parlour in Los Angeles. He left the reservation reluctantly when Tam went to university, and decided to study plastic surgery. By the time Tam joined the Trust, Dax was already disillusioned with being a waxworker, so he came too, his medical skills proving useful. The Trust had been completed.

  They were a unit. Wherever Tam was, so was Dax. Until now. He’s been searching for ways to help her, to try and wake her up, but it’s all neurological, and he’s no brain surgeon.

  It hits him then: Carina is.

  Hope digs its talons into him. Would she help?

  Tam’s information comes up on the screen. He looks away.

  Has it already been six months? Dax wonders. Grief is a strange thing. It can fade into the background and then flare up at a moment’s notice, almost choking in its intensity.

  The Trust had been plugged into a virtual reality interface, sneaking around the outskirts of Sudice’s security, when Raf sensed someone tampering. Wasps converged on them, and Raf couldn’t shut them down quickly enough. Dax knew they were nothing more than code, but in virtual reality they looked like monstrous insects.

  He remembers the phantom feel of the wind of their wings. Looking into those fractured eyes, thinking: this is it. This is the end.

  That unchangeable moment in time: a Wasp stinging Tam’s avatar. Her high, pure scream. The sight of her disintegrating before his eyes. Raf frantically trying to evade his own attackers while starting emergency exit procedures. Waking up in a warehouse, looking over at Tam, and all too soon knowing her body was only a shell. Tam was gone, and no one knew if she was trapped in a corner of her mind, or if she had fled completely.

  Dax knows what Raf suspects: not that Tam was an intentional spy, but that someone had tricked her into giving away information that compromised them. If it’s true, she marked her own downfall.

  Dax has to believe – he has to – that she wasn’t a traitor, even accidentally.

  The Trust comb through the information while Dax stares at the tabletop, trying and failing to keep his emotions under control.

  ‘Well?’ he asks, still looking down.

  ‘She didn’t give them anything,’ Charlie says softly. ‘Not that we can see.’

  Dax’s
shoulders droop. It has been a heavy weight. ‘How did they know where we’d be?’

  ‘Unclear. Just found a trail and followed it,’ Raf said. ‘I’m sorry for thinking it might have been her. I guess it was easier than thinking I’d been careless.’

  Dax thought he’d be angry, lash out at Raf, but he is only tired. His eyes run over the information. Tam didn’t give them up. If he can convince Carina to help, if Tam can come back . . . he could have his sister again. Maybe. The chance is still microscopic, but it’s a chance.

  Dax stands, the chair screeching. Let the others sort through all the information. Let them decide what to do. With Carina. With Sudice. With all of it.

  He’s had enough of secrets for one day.

  NINETEEN

  ROZ

  SIXTEEN MONTHS AGO

  Sudice headquarters, San Francisco, California, Pacifica

  The SynMaps trials are progressing beautifully, but Roz is still uneasy and frustrated.

  The scientists have taken the news that their subjects were criminals better than she expected. Then again, all the scientists – except for Carina – had already been exposed to the twisted ethics of corporate science. How you fit the data to support your hypothesis, so the company makes its bottom line and the product can be released. Even if it’s still flawed, still bugged. Still dangerous.

  It’s business.

  So they continue. Carina’s subject is by far the worst of the group. The other crimes are less severe. Roz’s subject has committed fraud, hacking into banks and siphoning funds. Aliyah’s subject is an arsonist, notably having burned down a hospital, though luckily for him, everyone was able to evacuate safely. He reacted so poorly to Zeal therapy that after his third large-scale fire, it was the stasis ice-tray for him. Mark has another one whose memories are not terribly fun to peruse. This subject, based out of Hollywood, hacked into feeds and implants for celebrities, leaking personal information to the hungry masses. No celebrity was off limits. He’d find whatever he could on them. Nude pictures, sex tapes, celebrities complaining to trusted friends about other celebrities. He made millions off it, but that’s all been confiscated now that he’s been caught. Mark says he isn’t repentant. The famous people had the best security money could buy, but from the subject’s point of view, they were asking for it. All the combined lawsuits meant he would have ended up in stasis without a doubt, but he’s weaselled his way into this instead.

  Roz has no doubt that, were all these subjects released, they’d return to their crimes. Roz can find no hint of remorse in any of their brains. Roz, therefore, in turn has no guilt of her own.

  Carina is handling Subject B well. She has a specifically blank look when she works with him; she’ll speak calmly, but stare through him as if he’s not worth seeing. Subject B doesn’t like it. Carina was right; he wants acknowledgement of his crimes, wants her to be upset by what he shows her. He’s trying to mentally assault her, and doesn’t understand why it doesn’t work. What an awful cesspit of a human being.

  Mr Mantel pinged her a few days ago. He said she could progress with her own side project once she and her team could prove that brain recording would work on all four subjects without side effects for five minutes. Just five minutes. The news rejuvenated her, as it was meant to. Mantel knows how to dangle a carrot.

  Subject B is up first. All of them have double-, triple-, quadruple-checked Carina’s code. In theory, the brain recording should work. Roz shakes with excitement, yet also simmers with a touch of jealousy. She wanted to test her own subject, her own code, but she’s been so caught up with the administrative duties of their work and prepping for the real SynMaps project – something that her team can never know about. Her true passion. So Carina beat her to it. And her code is beautiful, probably better than Roz’s would have been, much as it pains her to admit it.

  They gather around Subject B. None of the scientists can stand the sight of him, with that falsely beautiful face hiding such an ugly mind. Roz has overheard Kim and Aliyah speaking about it through the cameras in the lab.

  ‘They’ve been tried and convicted,’ Aliyah said. ‘But they’re here, instead of frozen in stasis where they belong.’

  ‘Maybe this is a worse punishment than being on ice,’ Kim replied.

  Subject B gives Roz an oily smile, his eyes too sharp. Bile burns her throat, harsh and bitter. She can’t wait to send him right to the freezer where he belongs when this is all over.

  Carina takes a deep breath, bringing the code around her head like a crown. Her hands come up, manipulating the last little details. The code hovers over Subject B, its blue light suffusing him in its gentle glow. She sends the command.

  Subject B’s mouth opens in a silent scream. His back arches, his body bucking against the pain of the implants changing for the brainload to work. Roz fights down the urge to smile at his pain.

  Carina does not.

  Her face lights up with glee, her teeth bared in a cross between a grimace and a grin. Her whole body seems to vibrate as she watches Subject B in his agony.

  Roz’s stomach drops. This is not supposed to be happening. Carina is not meant to care at all if she sees someone else in pain. No dread, no sympathetic shiver down her spine. Definitely no pleasure. Muted emotions were key components of the programming, to make her a more efficient and ambitious scientist.

  Subject B relaxes as the code completes. Roz wants to dart forward, to pull the plug, but something stops her.

  ‘We will now start the SynMaps procedure,’ Carina says. ‘The activation and deactivation switch has been attached to the nerve cluster leading to the hollow of his throat.’

  She pauses. Swallows. ‘Assistant,’ Carina directs the robot, ‘please press the hollow of his throat three times. Subject B, pay close attention to your immediate surroundings. We will record for five minutes.’

  Interesting that she asks her assistant to do it. She doesn’t want to touch him, is Roz’s best guess. The assistant dutifully comes forward and presses metallic fingers to Subject B’s skin, between his collarbones. One. Two. Three.

  The Adam’s apple in Subject B’s throat works as he swallows. ‘I feel sick,’ he says.

  ‘Nausea is a common side effect,’ Carina says, still unconcerned.

  Subject B turns his head, gagging. One of the other robots grabs a tub and puts it beneath his mouth just as he vomits. Unease prickles at Roz. Subject B has stopped vomiting, but his skin is clammy.

  ‘Blood pressure rising to 135 over 85,’ Carina’s robot assistant intones. ‘Core temperature rising to 100 degrees Fahrenheit. Heart rate at 180 beats per minute. Danger. Recommend ceasing experiment immediately.’

  ‘He’ll stabilize. He just needs a minute,’ Carina says. ‘Look. It’s working.’

  They all look at the projected readings on the white wall. Subject B’s brain is recording.

  ‘Vitals stabilizing,’ the robot intones.

  Carina’s lips turn up in a triumphant smile. They all continue to watch the readings. Three minutes. They only need two minutes more. Two minutes, and Roz can start the real work.

  ‘I still don’t feel well. I want to stop,’ Subject B says. His voice is so petulant, Roz half expects him to stick out his bottom lip.

  One more minute.

  Carina undoes the restraints. She’s careful not to touch his bare skin. ‘Sit up and walk around a little.’

  He does so. His steps are unstable.

  The timer beeps. They’ve reached five minutes. Roz and the others break into a grin.

  Then Subject B’s whole body stiffens. He lets out a small sound, almost a mewl. Before the robot assistant can begin to utter its warning, Subject B crumples to the ground. His body jerks, horribly. Grand mal seizure.

  The robots circle him. One turns him to his side, sticks a metal finger in his mouth to press down the tongue. Another gives him an injection. The humans in the room hold their breath. Kim’s clutching Aliyah close, Mark has both hands over his mouth. Carin
a’s face is smooth as ever.

  This doesn’t make sense, Roz thinks. He’d stabilized. It seemed like he could have carried on recording with only minor discomfort.

  Subject B is still twitching, but less than before. Roz is glad she convinced Mantel the expense of the robots and virtual assistants was worth it. The other scientists have some medical training, but they wouldn’t have been able to react as quickly.

  One robot carries Subject B through to the next room, and through the clear partition, the scientists watch it set him down on a laboratory table. Roz can only thank whatever luck she has that the other subjects aren’t here today.

  While the robots continue their dance to save the subject’s life, Roz watches Carina. The corners of her mouth twitch. Roz doesn’t need a microexpression overlay on her implants to know it’s a tiny, suppressed expression of frustrated regret. Something about that glint in Carina’s eyes reminds Roz uncomfortably of the way Subject B looked at her, right before he plugged in. She knows Carina has snuck off to Zeal lounges three times after work this week.

  The code should have worked. Should have been the breakthrough they so desperately need. There is no doubt in Roz’s mind that the careful programming she created in Carina ten years ago is fraying badly. She’ll have to fix it, and soon.

  Because from everything she’s just witnessed, Carina has tried to kill Subject B.

  TWENTY

  CARINA

  The Trust headquarters, Los Angeles, California, Pacifica

  After waking up from her dreams of killing, Carina lies on the floor, cheek against the cool linoleum. She tries to focus on the physical sensations here, in the real world. Her brain still desires Zeal. More than water. More than food. More than air.

  There must be Zeal, somewhere in this compound. Vials of it, just waiting to be used to help the Trust brainload, enter virtual reality or have their own catharsis. What does Dax dream in his Zealscapes? Or the others? Is anything in their minds as twisted as in her own?