Con Code Read online

  “Do they keep you in a cage too?” This question gets a rise from her, and I wonder if maybe they do keep her in a cage. What’s winning a war for if it’s the enslaving side that wins? I’m starting to wonder. “Changing out my parts won’t make me company property. Not legally.” She squints like the wires shrunk in proportion to her sight and she must now put more focus in her task. “I don’t belong to anyone. I’m a person.” I’ve made the same statements day after day. “I’m not a pet, either.”

  I know what happens if I make threats about being ‘kept’ or ‘caged’. I get shocked so my system shuts down, but not so much anything scrambles. It’s like a hard reset. They can manage it remotely by pressing a button. It’s really annoying as it has no effect on humans—only electronics. I’m also aware they don’t like to press it because it shuts down all their systems too. They have to reboot everything in the building every time they zap me. It’s been five times already. Somehow, they always manage to drag my metal body back to the cage before everything restarts.

  “Do they keep Juan in a cage?” The worker lets out more breath than she takes in like she’s been saving a little extra air in her lungs and finally gets sick of holding onto it. I copy her physical behavior in an attempt to appear as human as possible. Instead of her eyes getting narrower, they widen.

  That’s a new reaction behavior for me to achieve in a worker. This one’s fun. I copy that too. “Do you talk to Juan?” I ask. Unsure if it’s discussing Juan or my imitation of her that caused the first reaction. I’d like more behavioral responses in my ‘human reaction’ arsenal.

  “We’re instructed not to talk with the products…”

  I’m almost too surprised by a verbal response to form a spoken follow-up question. I’m suddenly flooded with curiosity. One, she speaks! Two, the worker used the plural—products. Not product. Does that refer to me and Juan, or are there more of us? I push that down into a ball at the pit of my stomach and move to her use of the plural. “Products?”

  The worker stands, my hand completely tethered, but not covered by the skin like material hiding the mechanical parts of me. She shakes her head no like she’s protesting. Her eyes are wide so that I can see white all around her iris and her pupils enlarge like she’s attempting to access more information from the room. I know this because the hole in my eye device also widens when I wish to scan a larger portion of the environment, but it also requires more of my brain function to complete the scanning task, so it’s not always a viable option for information gathering, especially if there’s auditory information available as well. Maybe after all my upgrades are completed, I can accomplish both means of information gathering from the environment without compromising any data, but for now, I have to pick and choose my means of collecting information.

  Workers bring their supplies with them inside my cage when it’s only one person working, like today. Otherwise, we’d be outside the cage and plugged into the wall. I wonder if the security of the signal scrambling wire-walls gave this worker the confidence to slip and speak to me? If that’s the case, why on earth is she practically backward climbing the door to get herself out?

  “They wouldn’t know you said anything if you just act normal.” I pull on the skin covering like a glove. My hand doesn’t respond to any electronic signals my brain sends it. I keep trying though. Wiggle the skin tighter, dang fingers. I’m never going to close this gap without a little jiggling. “The way you’re freaking out, they’ll think you slipped me the codes to crack the lock.” I point with my lips to the latch at the cage like I see all the locals do. Point with their lips.

  “How long until this is back online?” I flop my hand in the air, so she knows what I’m talking about. She signals a cross and turns her back to me, repeating the sign of the cross over her chest again and again while fumbling with the keypad with her other hand. I guess she thinks I’m the devil.

  I sidestep to get a glimpse of the numbers she punches in. As if the woman can see behind her, she moves so her back obstructs my view no matter where I stand. I’ve tried several combination patterns and searches to try to crack the lock code. I believe they change the codes regularly. By regularly, I think it’s by the hour, or maybe simply by the worker.

  “Tell the other products I say hi,” I say once the door lock disengages. “Next time maybe we can chat a little more.” I laugh under my breath as the woman pulls the cage door closed behind her. An electronic lock engages and the woman runs, leaving all her materials inside the cage with me.

  This is new.

  The tools left in my confinement pen don’t look like the surgeon’s tools. They look like the sort of thing used to replace batteries in a watchmaker’s shop—tiny handheld drivers, wire holders. The tools of an electrician who works with tinker toys perhaps. There’s rubber tipped tweezers, glue, and liquid stitching tubes for melting my coverings back together. I’m unsure what to shove inside the gap at my wrist, what might fit or what might be too well accounted for to not go missing. I’m certain I must slide something, several somethings, inside the opening in my wrist and then close it somehow. The liquid skin will close the glove-like opening.

  With my working hand, I choose the rubber-tipped tweezers, the smallest driver, one that has a copy in a larger size, spare wires and gears, and a conductor, which worries me as I slide it inside my arm and push to conceal it among the inner workings of my forearm. I don’t wish to accidentally fry my circuits, but a conductor seems like it could come in handy.

  My cage is easily looked in upon as it’s a mesh of wires and not made from solid walls. I believe Geo has some prejudice against things he can’t see through. I notice immediately that it’s him, Geo, who enters the room outside my pen.

  “Haven’t seen you for a while.”

  “Miss me, did you?” His accent bites. I forgot how sharply the English words pour out of him. Like he has to spit them out for the English pronunciation. “I’m surprised you have such capacity.”

  “Why create us, if you despise us?” I speak for myself and Juan and however many more there might be like us, hoping Geo will let information slip and either confirm or deny the number of persons like me. Or what he has against us.

  “The creation of you was before my rise to the top.” Geo eyes the materials left inside my cage. I can see his brain adding up the pieces, but he makes no move to enter the space I occupy. “I just happened to be here.” He points to his feet, like he means this exact space here, not figuratively ‘here’ as in a position of control. I’m certain he must mean the latter because otherwise, it makes no sense, but his choice of emphasis by pointing throws off my logic. “When decisions needed to be made.”

  “What decisions?” I flop my still unresponsive hand in front of myself. “What kinds of joints service our frame?”

  “That’s a start.”

  “Why bother upgrading me if you don’t trust or like me?”

  “I’ve learned to not trust you. Foolish of your Mexico friends to only supplant a faraday cage in your head preventing system upgrades without their consent.”

  What? I have a what?

  “I’ve added a lot more control than that.” Geo motions more workers into the room and points to the tools on the inside of the wire box with me. The workers open the door. One stands at the opening while the other one collects items and hands them through the door to a third employee who places them on a counter at the side of the larger glass room we’re all inside.

  Control? I’m not a remote-operated toy.

  “Once the rest of the world understands the danger you pose, it will be too late.”

  “I’m not dangerous.” My voice drops, sounding the opposite of my statement. A new sensation rises in the section where human guts would be located. It’s a heated feeling that attaches itself to my spinal cord and engages all my extremities as though I need to be ready to use them at any second, and my thought processes reroute signals so that only my reflexes and pre-memorized movements ar
e set for action. Angry.

  “Where is the rest of my equipment?” Geo waves his workers to exit the cage. “I know there are parts missing from the supply list Anita signed out.”

  Anita, huh? “Why don’t you ask her? She seemed a little shifty to me—the kind who might sell equipment on the side to make a little extra money since her boss is so cheap.”

  Geo remains calm. He has no rushed reaction to my words, which irritates me even more. I need to learn from his behavior and copy his resolved exterior, but it’s difficult.

  From the look on his worker’s faces, none of them want to be sent into my pen in order to search out missing items. I’m unsure what makes them so afraid of me. I haven’t seen a reflection of myself since my upgrades, but I worry I’m monstrous in appearance from their expressions. Geo pivots away from me and discusses in a low voice how he plans for his employees to retrieve the tools. Of course, making his voice low has no secretive effect, since I have the ability to hear even very slight sound.

  “Why does Juan get to wander free and not me?” I ask.

  Geo’s spine straightens and he turns so that he can see me out of the side of his vision. “Juan doesn’t move freely through our facility. His movements are closely guarded and documented.”

  “Is that so? So you gave him permission to come in here and discuss the codes Gordon sent him before you hauled the Mexico crew away?”

  A movement, like Geo says something, but absolutely no sound escapes him, along with a rough and rapid motion for two of the workers to excuse themselves. At least that’s what they do as if they know what the action means.

  “He didn’t tell you about that?” I ask. “That’s funny for a guy, a boss.” I add the boss part hoping for a greater reaction and get it. Geo’s jowls shake in his attempt to keep his face controlled. “To allow someone as skilled in code as Gordon to attend a big meeting with his device in hand and after Juan had met with us secretly the night before to warn us. Enough time for Gordon—super expert with computers, I’d say he’s sort of like Ace…”

  Geo shows me his back. In the glass wall before him, I glimpse the color of the barely visible reflection deepens.

  “Permitting Gordon time to research codes needed for Juan to bypass firewalls preventing intellectual upgrades.” I’m making all of this up. Yes, Gordon had a device at the meeting, and I’m certain Geo saw it. Yes, Juan appeared to react to Gordon’s having a device unchecked, and yes, I had met with Juan the night before the meeting and he had warned me. But the rest is fantasy. Fantasy that can be fueled with security camera evidence that at least some of what I’m claiming is accurate.

  “I’ll get whatever you stole, even if I have to rip your arm off myself.” Geo slams the glass door behind him, leaving me inside my glass case and additional wire pen of a room.

  Lucky for me, robots don’t need food, water, or a bathroom. Only the occasional battery charge, which I need less frequently since my quad processing upgrade. “Can’t wait.”

  I anticipate a forced reboot as their ‘safe’ option to enter and retrieve the items I stole. In hindsight, it was stupid. I’m not gaining anything by having tiny objects. I can’t hack the lock on my cage or code my way out of here. I have a little screwdriver, some wires, and rubber tweezers shoved up my arm. Whoop-dee-doo.

  Sometimes I wish the game rules applied to this realm. It’d be much easier to reprogram humans to function how I choose or infect them with a virus of my choosing. Maybe one that shuts off their gross motor function, so they would be frozen in place and I could finally be free of their cages and expectations. They’d be forced to stay still and watch me reprogram their world instead of the other way around.

  If only there was a way to protect me from the power surge. Then I might stand a chance. But what can withstand an electromagnetic power surge?

  I pace the cage in my sleek and steady new legs, complete with extra length and thicker skin, making me less likely to suffer a scrape deep enough to injure my internal tubes or wires. Juan is right about the joints and connections in Ecuadorian housing. Much more advanced and easier to manipulate. Once my upgraded appendages were able to communicate with my brain signals, it’s been instantaneous motion free of wobbles, glitches, or jitteriness.

  “How do I prevent a power surge?” I tap the wires around my pen in a nervous pattern. Thinking. Looking at the cage that holds me.

  I have one of these in my head? But Dr. Miller wouldn’t do that to me unless it was to protect me. I do a mental inventory—literally trying to identify what is located within my head. It’s difficult to feel what one is made of when you can’t see the parts and pieces and your sense of ‘feel’ is based on an idea construct and not a true sensory experience the way a human might describe it. It’s not like dragging finger pads along the internal recesses of my mind. I’m following the pathways and connections as slowly as I can process in order to identify the parts and how they connect and if there’s something unexpected, unnecessary, or unwanted.

  It turns out, my head is filled with all those things. And I have no idea how to sort them all out. Why I’ve never tried to identify the parts and pieces surrounding my ‘brain’ seems stupid now. But how could I have anticipated being held hostage by a foreign scientist while most of my concern had been trying to learn how to ‘appear’ more human in order to trick my team into continuing to search for a donor code to match me with?

  It all seems so I and unimportant now. And for the first time since being caged here, I forget myself and consider the fate of my team. Maybe they’re not in a holding cell somewhere. What if something much worse and permanent has happened? Spaulding can suck it. I don’t care for him having sold us all out anyway, but Dr. Miller and Abby—despite our sister-like relationship of disappreciation for one another. Gordon, who I hope did somehow manage to send information to Juan. Not like he had any preparation for that meeting or time to develop a hack that could help any of us out of this mess. And mostly Mav. Because he looks like my Ace. And because I miss him even though he’s not Ace.

  Trapped in a cage of highly conductive material, hiding additional conductive material up my arm isn’t going to help me. So much for the crud I shoved under my skin before Geo came in. Why didn’t I think about that before I sealed the opening in my synthetic skin?

  I’ve basically only helped them add material to effectively prevent me from receiving electromagnetic signals, upgrades, messages, or anything really. The worker was probably already intending to shove that crud up my frame and I just did it for her.

  I imagine Geo having a good laugh looking back over the security tapes. Yes, there are surveillance cameras everywhere. It’s not like I’ll ever get away with anything here. I slam the cage. “Ah!” I slam the pen door knowing it’s not going to reveal a weakness or open. Still, I pause to observe how all the hinges, connection points, and corners of the structure react. Nothing. I slam it again. I’m made of steel framing. That’s got to do some damage, right?

  No.

  “Ahh!”

  “Callate,” a complete stranger demands silence of me. Probably a worker passing by my glass cell, just wanting to stick her nose in.

  “Move on,” I holler and continue pummeling my cage with my fists. When the onlooker doesn’t remove herself, I shift gear, bringing my newly sealed wrist to my lips and ripping the freshly glued section with my teeth. No blood pours out. The worker doesn’t flinch. Stupid human already used to temperamental machines.

  She’s still standing in the glass room surrounding my metal cage. Her hair is made of such tight curls they seem to be climbing each other to read the top of her head where unnatural color stains odd clumps of hair. Her dark skin is like oil in the watery shadows of the glass building. Her eyes are anything but watery. They’re dry with irritation and dead set on me.

  I let my numb hand fall to my side and begin digging out the conductive wires I’ve concealed. “Why aren’t you leaving?”

  The stranger speaks Sp
anish, and my currently recovering system translates roughly, “Gordon me sent.”

  Like I care if Gordon sent her.

  Hold up. She said Gordon, not Geo…

  I stop digging inside my forearm. “What?” I bend closer to see through the mesh cage better. She doesn’t exactly ‘blend in’. She also doesn’t fit the ‘Ecuador facility’ MO. “Who sent you?” I bend to peer through the mesh to my right, down the glass corridor to check if anyone is coming. I adjust and repeat the process to my left. Both halls are empty of workers.

  “Gordon.” The woman has a thick Ecuadorian accent.

  “What is this? Some kind of joke?”

  “No.” She moves closer to my cell and pulls an odd circle of filing pins from her pocket. A locksmith’s tool perhaps? They’re definitely for picking locks. She points with her lips toward my ragged wrist, where I bit a hole through my skin. “Quitalo.” She says ‘stop it’ like an ‘or else’. Maybe an ‘or else I won’t help you’. “Freaks me out,” she attempts Anglo wording in punchy bursts.

  “Where is everybody?” I continue to shift my weight trying to check all halls. Glass structures permit me to see a good distance whether anyone is coming, but it gives anyone coming the same advantage to view activity where we are.

  “Active alls.” She throws in Anglo with her Spanish, making it that much harder for my system to follow her speech. I think she’s telling me everyone is active, which doesn’t mean anything in any language as a singular phrase. “System shut down.”

  I assume she’s talking about the knock-out pulse Geo warned me about. Like it’s supposed to be active maybe? Or my system isn’t supposed to be? This whole dual language thing is nuts. How does anyone speak two languages? “I didn’t feel anything.”