The silence after the scream was intense, like a physical weight on my ears, ringing in the area where the sirens had been blaring.
The three guards on the floor weren't dead, but they looked like they wished they were. They were clawing at their helmets and groaning, with blood running from their ears. Their neural-links, those chips in their heads that let them get orders from Central Command, had been fried.
Sarah leaned against the elevator wall, wiping blood from her lip. She looked weak, her ribs showing through her pale skin, but her eyes were burning with something fierce.
Stop staring, Elias, she uttered weakly. Grab their stuff.
I blinked, my rifle shaking. What?
We've got three minutes before their systems reboot. Strip them. We need armor and clearance codes.
I looked at the guards. They were Corporation Sweepers, the guys who made people vanish. Touching them felt wrong. But then I thought about Jasmine, sick in bed, needing medicine I couldn't get.
I gritted my teeth and knelt by the nearest guard.
Sorry, man.
I worked quickly, pulling the vest off the lead guard. It was heavy, with plates inside. I put it on, over my jumpsuit. It smelled like sweat and oil.
I checked his pockets: a stun grenade, a spare battery for the rifle, and a wrist-comp.
Give me the wrist-comp, Sarah said.
I took it off and gave it to her. She zapped it with her thumb, and the screen went from red to green.
Access granted, she whispered. Major Silas Vane. Level 4 security clearance.
She looked at me. Congrats, Elias. You're now a Major in the Corporate Security Force. Wear it.
I put the computer on my wrist. Data started scrolling across the screen: patrol routes, camera feeds, heart rates of nearby unit.
This is... I said. This is amazing.
It's simple, she said. Now, a weapon.
You can barely stand.
I don't need to stand to shoot. Give me the pistol.
I handed her the pistol. She checked it like she knew what she was doing, which looked strange on her skinny frame. Like watching your grandma assemble a sniper rifle.
We have to go, she said. The scream helped, but everyone knows where we are now.
We left the elevator and stepped into the Level B2 corridor.
This wasn't like the dirty tunnels of the Server Farm. This was the command sector. The walls were white, and the floor was shiny. There were displays in the air showing the status of the sleepers above us.
Server 9 Status: 99.8% Good.
Current Deaths: 0.
Lies, Sarah said, looking at the display. They call purges 'File Corruptions,' not deaths.
Freeze!
The shout came from down the hall.
Two turrets dropped from the ceiling and turned toward us. Lasers appeared on my chest.
Turrets! I yelled, diving behind the desk.
BRRRRT!
The bullets tore up the floor where I had just been standing. It was deafening. The desk i hid behind fell apart into chunks of plastic and wood.
Sarah! Get down!, i yelled.
She hadn't moved a muscle. Lasers danced all over her forehead as she stood there in the hall.
Sarah!
No reaction. She just raised her left hand, her fingers spread toward the turrets.
Elias, she said, totally calm, even with the guns whirring up for another shot. Ever wonder why the rich want to Ascend?
Because Earth sucks! I yelled, flat on the floor as junk fell on me.
Nope, she said. It's because in the digital world, what you think becomes real. Think it, and bam, it's done.
The turrets locked on, barrels glowing red-hot.
Sarah closed her eyes.
And me, she whispered, I'm a lucid dreamer.
She made a fist.
The turrets didn't fire. Instead, they went nuts, jerking hard to the left. They spun around to face each other.
BRRRRT!
The turrets started blasting away—at each other!
Metal screeched and sparked as bullets ripped them apart. Oil went everywhere. In like three seconds, they were just smoking junk hanging from the ceiling.
Sarah dropped her hand and almost fell over. I caught her. Her skin was burning hot, and blood was gushing from her nose.
You're killing yourself, I said, voice shaking. Whatever that is… it's eating up your energy. You're going to burn out.
Better to burn out than fade, she coughed. She looked at me, and for the first time, I saw she was scared behind all the attitude. I need food, Elias. I'm running a super computer on fumes. I need real food. Protein.
Got a protein bar, I said, reaching into my pocket.
She smacked it away. Not that junk! I need meat and sugar. And I need to get out of here.
My wrist-comp beeped. A hologram popped up.
It was a guy. Silver hair, icy eyes, and a jaw like it was made of stone. He wore the black uniform of the High Inquisitors.
Major Vane, the guy said, voice smooth but sharp. Report. Why the stress readings? And why are the Sector B turrets down?
I froze solid.
Answer him, Sarah hissed. Or he locks us down.
Who is that? I mouthed.
Malachi, she whispered. Head of Disposal. He's the one who cuts people off.
I gulped. I looked at the hologram.
Major Vane? Malachi asked, eyes narrowing.
Uh, sir, I stammered, trying to sound deeper. We had a… malfunction. Technical glitch in the software. The turrets, uh, shot each other. I'm… taking care of it now.
Malachi stared. The silence felt like forever. He checked out my face—covered in grease—then looked at the tactical vest I wasn't supposed to have.
You're not Silas Vane, Malachi said quietly.
My heart stopped dead.
And the woman there, Malachi said, looking at Sarah. That's Asset 815. Queen Lysandra.
He smiled, but it wasn't friendly.
Lockdown, Malachi said. Seal the place. Gas the vents. I want them alive. I need to know how a glitch learned to walk.
Right away, the thick doors at the corridor ends started closing. A hissing sound came from the vents, yellow, heavy gas. Nerve poison.
Run! Sarah yelled.
We took off. The door ahead was closing fast, three feet, two feet, one foot left.
Slide!
I jumped forward, hit the floor, and slid under the closing metal. Sarah dove right after me.
CLANG.
The door slammed shut, hitting my boot heel.
We were in the garage.
It was a huge hangar packed with vehicles: armored carriers, hover drones, and cool, black motorcycles that looked like panthers ready to pounce.
Can you drive? Sarah asked, coughing as some gas leaked through the door.
I looked at the bikes. I'm a Caretaker. I drive a mop bucket.
Figure it out, she said, limping to the closest bike. Because malachi just told everyone to hunt us down.
I ran to the bike, a Valkyrie X9. It was cool, chrome and carbon fiber. I jumped on, and the engine roared when it felt my weight. It rumbled, ready to go.
Sarah hopped on the back, holding onto me.
Where to? I yelled over the engine.
The Slums, she said. The Deep is too clean. We need to go where the signal is messed up. We need to find the Resistance.
There is no Resistance! I yelled. That's just a story!
I funded them! she yelled back. Go!
I hit the gas. The bike zoomed forward, the tires screeching on the floor. We hit the ramp going up, and burst out of the garage into the city's smoggy night.
Rain hit my face. Neon signs flickered in the distance, pink, green, and blue. The city of Neo Veridia was in front of us, a big, scary labyrinth of steel and glass.
And behind us, the sirens of Server 9 screamed like something dying.
We were out, but the game just started.