Cyber Dreams 2.16 - A Rude Awakening (Patreon)

Here it is, folks! Sorry, I'm a little later than usual. The power has been going on and off all day, and now it's out again. I was only halfway through my editing when it finally quit on us, so I'm posting this from my phone - hope it's not too rough.

Cheers,

Plum

Juliet dragged her rolling duffle bag into her new room, somewhere around the middle section of the Grave Tower, floor seventy-three. Most of her team had rooms on the same floor, though a couple of them had been on the seventy-first floor—she figured Cherise had done the best she could to get them together but had been limited by room availability.

She’d waited until everyone else had been moved into their places, saving her single, large duffle for last—another move that Juliet hoped her spying supervisors would see as “leading by example.” None of her teammates had groused much about helping each other, though there had been some grumbling when it came to Addie’s stuff.

Half the truck Angel had rented had been filled with Addie’s belongings, most of which were clothes. Her new friend had smiled coyly at the team, twisting a finger in a red curl of hair, while she insisted on taking a couple of small pieces of furniture that she claimed were family heirlooms—a tall, double-wide bookcase made from heavy wood and a mahogany bureau with rickety old drawers and lots and lots of scratches. Most of the others had only suitcases, gun cases, and a trunk or two.

“Doesn’t seem like people really own a lot of stuff these days,” Juliet said, reflecting on the evening’s activities. When Angel didn’t respond, Juliet dropped the handle of her duffel, pausing to look around her new space.

“Welcome, Lydia Roman,” a male voice with a heavy English accent said. Juliet didn’t startle—it was clearly the room AI speaking to her from a speaker recessed somewhere in the ceiling.

“Hello,” she said, clamping down on her urge to tell it to turn itself off.

“I am Kent, the residential AI for the Grave Tower. I’m here to make your stay more pleasant and to assist you with any needs you might have as a new employee of the corporation.”

“Thanks, Kent. Do you have a privacy mode?”

“I do, though you should be aware that Grave management can override that setting if they deem circumstances warrant the intrusion.”

“Okay.” Juliet wasn’t displeased by the space; she had a small kitchen with an induction cooktop, a microwave, and a drink dispenser. The living space was similar to the one she’d had in the Helios Arcology, but it was more nicely appointed. She had sturdy carpeting outside the kitchen with a tight weave of neutral earth tones. A long, brown couch took up one wall, and a glass and faux-wood coffee table sat in front of it.

She walked past the kitchen with its maroon-stained concrete counter and floor into the living area and saw a recessed shelving unit across from the couch. A doorway led into a small bathroom, and another opened into the single bedroom. By far, the best part of the whole place was the view—one wall of the bedroom and the living area were completely taken up by glass that exposed Phoenix’s downtown.

It was nine o’clock in the evening, and standing there looking out at the lights, she felt like she was in space looking out on a sea of brilliant lights—stars and nebulae in her imagination. She stared out there for several minutes, then, as the urge to yawn hit her, she turned away to examine the bedroom. “The bed looks okay,” she said, sitting down at the foot of it to get a feel. “Gel.”

“Yes, ma’am, this room has been newly re-appointed; the previous tenant was suffering from a depressive state and damaged nearly every article of furniture and fixture before he was removed,” Kent said.

“Should you be sharing that information with me?”

“He’s no longer a Grave employee and has lost his confidentiality privileges.”

“I see. Is there real water in the bath, Kent?” Juliet stood and walked back to the living area, intent on inspecting the bathing facilities.

“Your bathroom is equipped with a shower. It has two settings, one of which is hot water—each use of the hot water setting will deduct ten Grave-bits from your monthly payroll.”

“Huh,” Juliet said. She’d had Angel look up the various pay grades for Grave employees. Right now, she was classed at E7 and was due to be paid 3,450 Grave-bits per month. It didn’t sound like a lot, but during Juliet’s orientation, Grave’s HR reps had droned on and on about all the benefits they got in addition to their actual cash. In her case, she was receiving room and board, such as it was, health care, equipment, and uniforms.

“Kent, how much will I make per month if I get promoted to E8?” Juliet didn’t have the numbers memorized and was curious how Kent would respond.

“E8 Grave employees are paid 3,750 Grave-bits per month.”

“E9?”

“E9 Grave employees are paid 4,550 Grave-bits per month.”

“E11?” Juliet smirked; she knew she was probably driving Angel nuts talking to the stupid residential AI.

“E11 Grave employees are paid 6,750 Grave-bits per month.”

“All right, thanks for the trivia.” Juliet dragged her duffel over to the built-in dresser and closet next to her bed and began unpacking.

Ten minutes later, as Juliet stuffed her empty bag under the bed, Angel said, “You should sleep soon, Juliet. You’ll want to wake by 0530.”

“Thanks. Why are you being so quiet?”

“I’m trying to avoid causing you to act strangely in front of the residential AI.”

“Ah,” Juliet said, then switched to subvocalizations, “Can you update Rachel on today’s progress? Send her an encrypted text summarizing what went on today. Ask her if she knew about this watchdog crap.”

“Shall I use more professional vernacular?”

“You know the answer to that,” Juliet chuckled and stood up, stripping out of her dirty clothes and bringing them into the bathroom with her. There was a built-in washing machine next to the sink—a compact plasteel unit that would wash and dry her clothes in thirty minutes.

Rachel’s team had been very insistent about washing all her clothes and sheets daily; they hadn’t given her any solution to deal with contact DNA traces and were worried about snooping Grave employees coming into the apartment to collect samples.

“At least I don’t have to leave the room to do laundry,” she said aloud.

“Yes, and I noticed the recycling shoot appears to be a centralized system; I don’t think Grave will be able to differentiate your garbage from anyone else's as it arrives.”

“Good,” Juliet pushed the start button on the washer and stepped into the shower. “Sani-spray or ten bits for water, huh?” She smiled and pushed the hot water button.

Despite her fatigue, Juliet had a hard time falling asleep that night. She was nervous about what assignment she’d get; Cherise had sent her and all her teammates a message with their room assignments and instructed them to meet at level B7 at 0600. That had been the extent of it, and all evening, while they helped each other move, the team had speculated about what was in store for them. Raul, a big, muscular Latino with a very fine, almost invisible mustache, had insisted they’d go through some sort of hazing ritual.

Brian, or Jensen, as he preferred to be called, thought they’d be introduced to some of the regular Zeta Protocol units and be split up for training. Juliet was inclined to agree with him; it seemed that hazing wasn’t something that would occur on day two of their employment. No, Juliet figured they’d wait until the newbies had been split up and taken off-site for training to really mess with them, and that was the kind of thought that kept her tossing, unable to sleep. What had she gotten herself into?

Despite her mind’s best efforts to keep her wide awake, she drifted to sleep sometime around midnight, and it felt like she’d just started to dream when Angel’s soft, pleasant music began to play, waking her from her slumber. “Ugh,” she groaned, rolling out of bed and turning to yank the sheets off the mattress. She stripped her pillow, stuffed the bedding into the wash, and then stepped into the shower.

Juliet didn’t care that she’d just showered the night before; she wasn’t awake, and she needed it. “Angel,” she subvocalized while standing under the hot water, steam clouding the plastiglass enclosure, “any response from Rachel?”

“Yes, a brief one. I’ll read it to you: ‘January, congratulations on your infiltration. Since you’ve sent this message, I'm assuming you found a way to bypass the watchdog. If you need further assistance with it, please use this channel to arrange a meeting; we have software that should help you circumvent some of its functions. Looking forward to your next update, R.’”

“Good enough.” Juliet killed the shower early, only using four of its eight-minute standard duration, and then hurriedly dried off. She’d lain out one of her new uniforms the night before and dressed quickly—stretchy black leggings, poly-weave gray tank, short gray jacket with the Grave logo on the left breast, Lydia’s name on the right, and ankle-high black boots that looked and felt more like cross-trainers than formal wear. She couldn’t tell if the outfit was meant for exercise or if it was the regular uniform for the Zeta Protocol units.

“Kent,” Juliet asked, zipping the lightweight jacket halfway.

“Yes, Lydia?”

“Am I supposed to wear any weapons or bring any additional equipment or clothing to my meeting location this morning?”

The residential AI was silent for a few seconds, but then it responded, “You’re to wear the uniform provided and bring nothing else. It’s recommended that you style your hair in such a way that you’ll be comfortable during intense exercise.”

“Ah! Thanks, Kent. Any other details you can give me about my assignment today?”

“You’re to report to the elevator lobby on sublevel B7 by 0600. You have eleven minutes.”

“That’s it?” Juliet asked as she finished tying her pale blond hair into a bun. She wondered, not for the first time, why she’d decided to go blond with blue eyes for this assignment. Did she think it would make her look less like her old self, just in case some camera picked her up despite Angel’s interventions? She didn’t know for sure, but it felt good, anyway—she felt like she had a mask on, and it gave her a sense of security.

Juliet didn’t say goodbye to Kent, didn’t really spare him another thought as she strode to the door, opened it, and walk-jogged to the elevator bank; she wasn’t going to be late on her first day. She punched the call button, paced back and forth in front of the six elevators until one dinged, and stepped inside.

Juliet had thought she might run into one of the other team members on her floor, but she was alone in the elevator as it sank, in a stomach-flipping hurry, down to the sublevels, arriving at B7 all too fast—she was seven minutes early as she stepped out.

“Lydia!” Addie said, walking over to her, looking sharp in her new uniform. Behind her, standing together and speaking quietly, were Raul and Arnold—Arnie, as he’d said he liked to be called the previous night.

“Hey. Good morning. Damn, I gotta start getting up a little earlier; I missed breakfast and coffee. I’m going to be hurting.” Juliet rubbed at the back of her neck with one hand, shaking her head ruefully.

“Yeah, I got up at five. Did you try out the shower? First real-water shower I’ve had in a while!”

“Yeah, it was nice, for sure. You sleep all right?” As she asked the question, the elevator dinged, and Delma and Jensen stepped out.

“I did!” Addie replied, then turned to the newcomers, “Hey guys.”

“Heyo,” Jensen said, walking over. He looked sharp in the uniform, Juliet had to admit. She noticed the men’s pants weren’t exactly leggings, more like stretchy, tapered slacks, and she wondered at that; wasn’t it a little sexist that the women were expected to wear skin-tight pants? Then she thought about their different anatomies and decided she was fine with them having a little slack in the groin.

“You look like you just swallowed something sour,” Delma said, walking over.

“I . . . was just having some really weird thoughts. Didn’t get enough sleep.”

“Uh oh!” Jensen said. “Cherise warned you about that . . .”

“I didn’t stay up on purpose! My brain was just so busy. Weren’t you guys nervous? Excited?”

“Oh yeah,” Delma said, nodding. “I took a Doze, though.”

“Ugh, I shoulda thought of that. This is new for me, though—usually sleep like a baby.”

“Why do people say that?” Addie asked. “Babies don’t always sleep so well.”

“I . . .” Juliet laughed. “I don’t know!”

The area they stood in, before the elevator bank, was a low-ceilinged concrete room brightly lit with white fluorescent bulbs. Orange metal double doors were the only egress, and they were closed. A big blue B7 was painted on them. Other than that, there were no directions or markings to indicate what they could expect from their day.

As if he were reading her thoughts, Jensen asked, loudly so everyone could hear, “What do you all think this is about? My residence bot said to ‘wear undergarments that allowed for vigorous exercise.’ I thought that was a little creepy.”

“What?” Addie said with wide eyes. “Mine didn’t say that! I should’ve worn a sports bra!” Juliet looked at her and frowned slightly.

“You’re not packing much more than me up there, and I’ll be fine with my normal bra.”

“Hey!” Addie’s frown looked a lot more genuine than Juliet’s. “I have sensitive breasts! Mind your own business.”

“I . . .” Juliet started, but then the orange metal door on the left crashed open, and a tall man with very tan skin and slicked back, black hair burst through. He wore a uniform similar to theirs, though his boots were polished leather and his coat had several stripes and a strange insignia on the shoulder.

“Line up, recruits!” he hollered, striding forward. He had a back as straight as a board and a face like chiseled granite, nothing but hard, cold judgment in his silver, gleaming irises. Juliet hurried over to where Raul and Arnie immediately formed the start of a line, standing shoulder to shoulder at attention—clearly, they’d been through some sort of mil-sec training before. Addie stood next to her, then Delma. Finally, Jensen sauntered over and stood next to the petite woman. All the while, the man in the boots stood with his arms folded, looking down his long, straight nose at them.

“Pathetic. Drop and give me forty. When you hear me say ‘line up,’ you better hustle faster than that.” Suddenly, in Juliet’s AUI, a bright yellow 40 appeared, and she knew the watchdog was making its presence known. Just as that was dawning on her, she noticed Raul and Arnie were already on the floor cranking out pushups. She followed suit, glad she’d been working out at the dojo so regularly but worried—she hadn’t been doing pushups; fighting was good exercise, but it wasn’t the same.

“Good lord! Some of you are struggling already. Sound off! How many left?”

“Eighteen, sir!” Raul said.

“Seventeen, sir!” Arnie shouted.

Juliet struggled up from the down position and grunted the number on her AUI, “Thirty-one, sir!”

“Twenty-two, sir!” Addie said breathlessly.

“Ugh, nineteen, sir!” Delma grunted.

“Four,” Jensen said, sounding rather lackadaisical.

“All right, smartass,” the man said, moving over to loom over Jensen. “You’ll keep it up until the slow one is done. The rest of you can stand when you’re finished.”

Juliet frowned at being called the “slow one,” but she grimaced and determined to keep going, no matter how slowly. When her counter didn’t decrease after a rep, she gasped, “My counter isn’t moving.”

“Don’t cheat then—all the way down, all the way up, grunt.”

Juliet found herself barely able to push herself up at number twenty-two, and she held herself there for a minute, and she saw, in her peripheral vision, Addie stand up. She glanced that way and saw that Delma was up, and Jensen was still cranking out pushups, not slowing at all while she struggled.

“C’mon grunt. You can finish the set on your knees if you need to,” the man said, moving away from Jensen to stand over her. The polished sheen of his boots winked at her mockingly. She wanted to refuse, wanted to struggle through the rest of the pushups without “cheating,” but she knew the others were waiting for her and also that she’d be at this a long while if she had to rest between each rep.

With a gasp and flush of hot shame, she put her knees down and continued her pushups, dismayed that they didn’t feel much easier at all, even on her knees; her arms and chest were burning. Grunting, flushed with embarrassment, knowing the others were standing around watching her, she slowly ground them out until her counter read zero, then she collapsed onto her chest.

“Goodness, recruit, you’ve got some work to do, don’t you? Didn’t you do any PT before signing on? That’s enough, Jensen. Get up. You’re in charge of helping recruit Roman get squared away with her PT. Now, line up!”

This time, everyone, including Jensen, hurried to form a line, standing straight and still. Juliet was still breathing heavily, was still embarrassed, and felt like crying as she struggled to be still under the man’s gaze. He stood in front of her for a long while, staring at her, watching the sweat run from her hairline down her forehead to gather at her eyebrows, watching her force herself to breathe slowly through her nose, so she didn’t move with each heaving breath. Finally, he moved on toward Raul and Arnie, then turned and moved back to the center of their little line and clasped his hands behind his back.

“I’m Commander Gordon. I run Zeta Unit Alpha, and on the days when I’m in charge of your training, you better look a lot sharper than this mess. Today you’ll be running circuits, and then you’ll be sitting in a tactics seminar, learning some terminology, and watching vids about room clearing. Tomorrow will be more of the same, except you’ll get some practical experience with the latter. Don’t worry about the day after that; if you make it that far, I’ll tell you what to expect.”

Juliet had finally gotten her breath back, and she stood there, swaying slightly, and noticed little sparks exploding in her vision. “What’s going on with my eyes,” she subvocalized, and then she saw her eyesight getting dark at the edges as though she was in a tunnel.

Angel replied, though her voice seemed strangely hollow and distant, “Juliet, unlock your knees!” Juliet realized she was standing stiffly, her leg muscles tight and her knees locked tight, and she slightly bent them. “Now, breathe deeply!” Juliet complied, and the dark walls of her vision began to retreat, and she realized Commander Gordon was speaking again.

“. . . down this hallway, then take the second left. The doors to the gym will be straight ahead, and the circuit stations will be set up. Your watchdogs will keep track of your progress. Be sure to complete each course. No cutting corners. Each completed circuit earns you fifteen minutes of rest, then you repeat. You’ll have a break at noon, and then it’s class time. Let’s go!” He clapped his hands together, and the recruits hurried toward the door, Arnie leading the way.

Juliet followed after them, still a little shaky from her close call with fainting. Commander Gordon stood to the side, arms still crossed, and watched them hurriedly walk out of the room. The expression on his face hadn’t changed the entire time he’d been with them, not even when he’d been yelling.

As the metal door clanged shut, Juliet felt a hand grasp her elbow and turned to see Jensen. “You good?” he asked, lifting a sandy blond eyebrow.

“Yeah, never done that many pushups in a row. God, I didn’t know I’d need to be in that kind of shape when I applied.”

“Don’t worry. He’s just breaking us down so he can build us up into a unit that fits Grave’s ideal. He’ll be rough on you until you show some improvement, but as long as you work and do what he says, he’ll lay off eventually.”

“You speak like you’ve got experience with this? I mean, you sure as hell can knock out the pushups . . .”

“Oh, I’ve done some time in paramilitary units. Pushups are always on the menu—pull-ups too. I bet our circuit today has pull-ups. You wanna put any bits on it?”

“Pull-ups?” Juliet groaned. “I don’t think I’ve ever done one!”