Chapter 3

  Some Tech is rambling on about the history of skinjacks. Maria looks like she's in a vegetative state staring off into space, Stinger is stabbing a pen into his arm harder and harder than inspecting the suit where he hits himself. In a bored lackadaisical way Maria rolls her head to the side, our eyes meet and we blink and look away.

  Last night I had some very vivid dreams about the woman I saw when Maria and I touched; the disconcerting part was when I woke and opened my eyes Maria and I were facing each other, waking at the same time, just looking at each other. We haven't talked about it, but from the look on her face we had to have been having the same dream.

  The suit seems to move at times, to pulsate, like a heart beat. It is not just a suit, something you put on at the start of the day. There is more to it. I want to hear about what Paris has to say about the suits, but this guy has to stop talking.

  Stinger lets out a very loud yawn.

  “What was that Stinger?” The Tech says. “Do you have something to share with the class?”

  “Oh, I didn't say anything, I was yawning. Wait, class?” He says.

  I laugh.

  “Yes, class. I am a history major at the Royal University, my thesis was on the speculative history of the Net Lords between 2109 and 2121.”

  “What does 'speculative' mean?” Stinger says.

  “It means that its based on conjecture rather than knowledge.” Maria says.

  “Oh, so you wrote a thesis on bull shitting?” Stinger say.

  I laugh way to hard at Stinger.

  “Well I wouldn't expect any of you soldiers to understand, perhaps you can explain skinjackks to Maria here.”

  “Sure thing, we can do it in less then half the time. Go for it Goliath.”

  The little rat. I look back at him, he's sitting in a chair with his feet kicked up smiling.

  “Ok Maria, short version is wetware hosts are in exoskeletons, echo-units, being controlled by Net Lords from their stasis pods. Wetware hosts are genetically grown humans that are never conscious in life, unless we free them. The Net Lords are, well, they've been running things and controlling the world for the last 100 years or so. The Net Lords computers run a massive simulation for the wetware hosts, in the field we refer to it as the Hype. The Hype is a simulation of 1986 Manhattan. At the end of the year, 7:01 am January 1987 everyone goes to sleep the system is reset. Our goal as Specters is to free wetware hosts and send them to the reintegration team so they can be free, live out a normal life.”

  “Why are wetware hosts in echo-suits?” She asks.

  “Um, because.” I stammer. I really don't know.

  “If I may be allowed to continue the presentation, it's coming up in...” He thumbs through a thick pile of paper, “... in about 132 pages.”

  “Oh, no I'm good, I really don't need to know more.” Maria says.

  “If I have to listen to another 132 pages of him talking I'm going to put a bullet in my brain.” Stinger says.

  “The way things have been going you would survive and still have to listen while your brain regenerates.” I say.

  “Yeah, but I could shoot my prefrontal cortex and have a minutes peace sitting there in a vegetative state.”

  “Wait, you have a prefrontal cortex Stinger?” Maria interjects.

  “Haha, I like you more when you're not trying to be funny.”

  “Hey, she wasn't trying to be funny, she was funny.” I add.

  “We have a lot to cover in the history of the Net Lords, lets get back to it.” The Professor says.

  “No. We have a lot to do today, Maria gets enough of it that we can go do training.” Stinger says as he stands and walks towards the door. There is an armed guard at the door.

  “You can't leave the room.” The guard says.

  “Are you going to stop me?” Stinger says, narrowing his eyes as he glares at the guard.

  “Stinger, he's following orders.” I say.

  “I suppose.” He says, standing in front of the guard staring him down.

  “Look, we're clearly done and ready for the next bit of training, we don't need a full history lesson.” I say.

  The Professor gathers his papers with a huff, walks out, slamming the door.

  “Was it something I said?” Stinger says.

  “Nah, it was Maria, she interrupted him saying 'we don't need a full history lesson'. That was when he got all pouty and left.” I say.

  “Don't you turn that back on me, I've been to the University, spent enough of my life listening to old windbags ramble on about stuff that might have happened 100 years ago.”

  “Was you thesis also on bull shitting?” Stinger says. She throws a pen at him.

  The door opens, Sargent Paris and the Professor come back in.

  “Ok, what is this I hear about not letting the Professor Bennett instruct?” Paris asks.

  “He was rambling on, I told Maria the important stuff.” I say.

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  “But we didn't even get to my thesis.” The Professor pleads.

  “What was your thesis on?” Paris asks.

  “The speculative history of the Others between 2109 and 2121.” The Professor proudly states.

  “Speculative? Ok, they don't need to know the stuff you wrote about bull shitting.” Paris says.

  “But Commander Paris! It would be good for them to have the knowledge.”

  “Professor, we have a lot to cover today thank you for the instruction. Team, lets go.” Paris orders.

  I hope I'm mostly taking orders from Paris instead of Underwood. Hopefully Underwood is more the hands off type of commander. These pants are just not working, they keep trying to slide down, no matter how hard I tighten the belt. Maria seems to have the same issue, I think we need suspenders.

  This facility is brand new, some of the tiling isn't finished, the workman's gear just abandoned, laying about the halls. A side door opens, I catch a glimpse of bright sun light, and destruction. I stop and head to the door, Paris grabs my arm.

  “Sarg, just how much of the building was blown?” I ask.

  “We can discuss it latter. We lost a lot of people and resources with the explosion.” Paris says.

  The room we enter is massive; a 80 foot high domed concrete round room, the walls bare concrete. There looks to be a gun range and some echo-suits. Underwood is there having a heated talk with a short, weaselly looking man in ratty looking cloths who has a prosthetic on his left arm.

  “So where is he?” Underwood demands.

  “I'm not his girlfriend, he'll be here when he's here.” The man says. He looks over at us. “I thought you said 3 of the fusions worked?”

  “They did, two of them are wearing cloths.” Underwood says.

  “What? No, you can't do that, take off your uniforms.” The man says.

  “Pardon?” Maria responds.

  “You know what it does to the suit. You do know, right?” He says, looking at us.

  “They know what the need to know.” Underwood says.

  “You didn't tell them?!?! Oh, he'll be pissed, hell I'm pissed. So you didn't tell them and they had the procedure?”

  “That's enough Lenny, the Collective knows, they let you know, this is all agreed on. Do your damn job.” Underwood says.

  Lenny points his left arm at Underwood, two short barrels pop out the side of his prosthetic arm. Paris draws his gun on Lenny.

  “I don't even take orders from the Collective, I sure as hell ain't taking them from you.” He spits.

  “Come on Lenny, you can't shoot him, as much as I would like to do it myself, we can't.” Paris says.

  “Ha, no I'm fine, Frankie though, yeah, good luck with Frankie, Mr. Underwood.” With a click the barrels in Lenny's gun go back into his arm. “And you three, I feel bad for you if they didn't tell you about the suit.”

  “Lenny, that's enough. Underwood has authority, he has said to drop it.” Paris says.

  “So what is going on with the suits?” I ask.

  “It would seem it's not being discussed until Frankie gets here. Have a look around, don't touch anything.” Paris says.

  Now I feel more unsure about the suit, I run my fingers over the edge where the suit ends and my flesh starts on my wrist. It's seamless. Maria is doing the same, she starts to breath shallow, she's swaying a bit.

  “Maria, have a seat.” I say, taking her arm I lead her to a chair and sit beside. It occurs to me after the fact we didn't have the weird image flood my mind. Sitting there she starts taking deep breaths, relaxing.

  “Are you Ok Maria?” Paris ask.

  “Yeah, it's just a lot.” She says.

  “Well you all need to get inline like Stinger, I expect more from you Goliath with your experience.” Underwood says.

  “You have no idea what went on yesterday, have you ever ripped a mans heart out? And Maria is a civilian, she's never seen fighting. These fricken suits, this wasn't what we signed up for, we signed up for the DNA enhancement. This suit, it's never coming off, is it Lenny?” I say.

  Lenny looks me, then looks down. Maria starts breathing heavier, I stop talking, venting and yelling is just going to make her worse. They'll have to tell us something.

  The door crashes open, a tall, stocky middle aged man walks in, cigar in mouth with a tan trenchcoat.

  “You can't smoke in here.” Underwood says.

  “Hey Paris, who the fuck is he?” The man says in a gravelly voice.

  “Good to see you again Frankie. He's the Commander now.” Paris says.

  “So what are you then?”

  “I'm a Sargent in his squad.”

  The man walks over to Underwood giving him a good look over.

  “Well ain't that a kick in the nuts for your career Paris.” He says.

  “Frankie, they didn't tell them what the fusion does.” Lenny says.

  “What? Fuckwit, take me some where private, we need to talk.” Frankie says, glaring at Underwood.

  “I'm Commander Underwood.”

  “To me your Commander Fuckwit, now, we need to talk, Fuckwit.”

  Underwood leads him and Lenny off to the other side of the room, they go into some sort of bunker. Very faint I can hear yelling, I look at Stinger, he hears it as well.

  Turning to Paris he has a tiny mirror and comb, he's grooming his moustache. “Do you hear them Paris?” I ask.

  “No. Can you guys actually hear them?” He asks.

  “Yes.”

  “That is amazing, the best hearing the human body is capable of producing.”

  “How do you know Frankie and Lenny?” I ask Paris.

  “Now that is defiantly classified. Think of them as experts on advanced tech, that's all you need to know.”

  Great, advanced tech and I still have no idea what the full story is with the suit. What I don't understand is why it seems Maria and I can see these images, but Stinger isn't having them. I was wondering if he was holding back, but I'm not seeing images of him. We also didn't have the images when I helped her sit just now, perhaps we were in shock from the events of yesterday?

  The three of them march over, Underwood has a black eye. Frankie walks straight to me.

  “Ok kid, I radioed the Collective, I'm to give your team a quick run down of how to use the gear and am not to say anything more, Commander Fu... Underwood will explain the other part after I leave as I don't think I will have enough self-control to listen to his bull shit and not punch him.”

  “What is the Collective?” I ask.

  Frankie and Paris look at each other in silence.

  “Ok, a quick run down of what I can talk about,” Frankie says, pulling out a piece of paper “, lets see, ok, the suit is made of a polymer/metal blend that can become fluid yet has incredible strength. Here, take one of these.” He hands the three of us each a small box the size of a deck of cards. “Put them on your suit. Oh, you two will want to remove your garments.”

  “Why?” I ask. Frankie looks at Underwood and shakes his head. “Oh never mind.” I pull up my sleeve and put the box on my left forearm. My suit seems to grab the small box, to embrace it. Maria copies what I do, Stinger slaps it on his chest.

  “Put it somewhere you can read it kid.” Frankie says to Stinger.

  “I'm not a kid.” Stinger says.

  Frankie laughs, “Everyone in this room is a kid to me. Now put the box so you can read it, oh, and everyone stand back from those two.”

  Stinger picks the box off his chest and puts it on his forearm.

  “Ok, hold the green button for 5 seconds.” Frankie instructs.

  We do as he says. The suit seems to vibrate, I have an overwhelming sense of annoyance. Unexpectedly points puncture my cloths all over and move all around, shredding my clothing. The same has happened to Maria.

  “Tried to warn you guys, they don't like cloths.” Frankie says.

  “The suit he means.” Underwood says.

  “Yeah. Ok, so hit the first preset.” Frankie says.

  We do so. Stinger and Maria are floating heads and hands now, virtually invisible below their neck, I look the same.

  “It's a light refracting illusion, something I've been told I can't explain.” He looks over his list and crumples it up in a ball. “Well, that's the extent of what I can say, lets go Lenny.”

  Frankie holds out his hand to shake, I reciprocate.

  “Good luck kid.” He says, looking me in the eye I feel the balled up piece of paper in my hand, I keep it in my palm as Frankie moves on to shake Stinger's and Maria's hand before heading out.

  Standing there I wonder what to do with the note, I feel my suit move to my palm, it pulls the note from my hand. As the others are talking I look under my wrist, the note is gone. I can see an image in my head of a hand written note:

  If you need help call dispatch, ask for Frankie.

  555-7879

  They are having a heated discussion, Maria and Underwood yelling at each other about the suit.

  “Hey!” I yell. The both stop talking “So is this suit alive?”

  “No more then a dog.” Underwood says.

  “But a dog is alive.” Stinger says.