NEW SCI-FI THRILLER NOVEL "SEAGORA" - SLICE 10

Our high-tech drama on the high seas continues.....

Caro grasped at her forehead.  Headache.  Not again.  What did they want now? She had to find a VR set fast.  She didn’t need it for communication purposes.  Her DNA changes took care of that.  She needed to look like she was having a normal VR conversation, rather than appearing to be a raving lunatic talking to herself.    

She made a quick deal with someone from an art and coffee lounge and paid an exorbitant amount.  Pain tends to make money a secondary concern rather quickly.  She found a secluded area at the back of the lounge and threw the headset on.    

Torcer appeared before her.  “Where are you, Caro? Your signal has been spotty the past few hours.”

“Shame,” Caro said with aloofness as she sunk into the thick cushions.    

“I’m serious, Caro.  This can’t happen.”

“I’m sure between you and your techno-god masters, you can figure it out.”

“Stop treating me as if I’m the bad guy.”

She sat up pointedly and said sharply, “You’re holding the father of my child in prison.  Don’t try and delegate your guilt.  You’re responsible for your actions, just like everybody else in this world.”

“You know as well as I do, that if I weren’t playing my role, then somebody else would.  Now just tell me why the heck your signal is so weak, and we can both move on to better things.”

“It’s probably the depth.  Trillions of gallons of saltwater interference.”

“You’re in The Pit?”

“The one and only.”

“For how long?”

“Do we ever know for certain how long we’ll be somewhere?”

“Regardless, we need to fix this communication problem.  You’ll need to come up once a day to meet face to face.”

“Not possible.”

“Once a week?”

“I can’t guarantee anything.  I’ll see what I can do.”

“In the meantime, there will be priority given to amplifying your signal.”

“I remember the last time some technical issues arose.  Try to not send me to the hospital again, would you?”

“You’re too valuable to lose, so I’m sure the technicians will take extra care.”

“Care? You talk about those machines as if they have emotions. Are we done now, Torcer?”

“I suppose.”  

Torcer set his headset aside and surveyed his apartment for a moment.  A service bot brought him his customary Kelp Ale, neat, in a twist glass.  He examined the murky green liquid.  How could such an innocuous thing have been illegal such a short time ago? Then he reminded himself that it was best not to think about such things.  After all, he didn’t get paid to think about that particular subject matter, right?   

He took a warm sip and strode to his small, glass-floor patio, more than a half mile in the air.  He wondered about The Pit.  He wondered what it must be like.  It was something he could never know.  All citizens of the Euro-American Union were prohibited from going to The Pit, or anywhere in The SeAgora for that matter.  He consoled himself with another haze-making sip and the thought that at least he’d get some interesting views of The Pit via Caro’s clandestine broadcasts.      

He stared out the window into the shimmering cityscape night.  “Computer, remove force field.”

“Action prohibited.”

“Just take it down, machine! I’m not gonna bloody kill myself!”

“Action prohibited. Would you like a sedative?”

All glass in towers was reinforced by force fields.  This was done as a security measure, to reduce the number of suicides.  At least, in towers that housed people deemed important enough to protect.    

A bigger sip made his mind switch.  He though of his ex-wife.  She was so beautiful, and they were so happy.  Why had she done herself in? He emptied the glass and was refilled promptly.  He took a lonely swig.  He had a son he rarely spoke to.  A nearly-unemployable son, who spent the vast majority of his time and attention in VR worlds, just like most others landside.  He loved him, anyway.  The bitter military veteran polished off glass two, and was brought a third.    

Would his son ever get approved to have a child? D-1 and others had hinted that, if he played his cards right, then it would happen.  He could have a grandson.  But it had been years since the initial application was made, and he was starting to wonder.    

He decided to take a hot shower.  After all, not everyone got a full 30 minutes of hot water credits per day.  Might as well make the most of it.  Enjoy the petty, material privileges that his bosses bestowed on him.    

The next day, Torcer gave a one-eyed groggy survey to his surroundings.  “Damn,” he said with mock remorse, “I passed out in the shower again.” 

This was an unfortunate habit he’d picked up since his Kelp Ale intake had increased exponentially after his wife’s death.     He pulled himself up and took a short, disturbed look in the mirror.  After calling out grumpily, a service bot came and bombarded him with detox frequencies.  Another temporal perk of being favored by the ruling class.  He didn’t have to deal with hangovers.  Consequences were evaded, or at least, put off to a distant point in the future.    

The flat voice of the home computer announced, “Incoming call from Seth.” This stretched his face with surprise and he splashed some cold water on his leathery skin.  “Damn kid must want money.”

“Shall I connect you?”

“I suppose.”

A pasty, doughy figure popped up in the living room.  He was laid back sloppily in a king-sized recliner.  Torcer tried to hide his disgust.  “Hello, son, good to see you.”

Seth spoke a couple of octaves higher than one might imagine from such a big figure, “Yeah, I guess.” There were all sorts of colorful techno-illusions flashing chaotically behind and around Seth.    

Torcer sighed, “Could you turn that damn thing off while we talk?”

Seth made a pouty face and pushed a doughy finger into a control pad.  “There ya go, always ordering me around.”

Torcer didn’t want to waste any time and he knew they had little to talk about.  They were the perfect definitive example of polar opposites.  “What do you want, son?”

“Why do you always think I want something?”

“Can you name the last time you called and didn’t ask for something?”

The spoiled man-child folded his flabby arms, “Whatever…..ok, I need some resource credits.”

“They don’t have to let me transfer those, ya know.”

“But you know they will.  Come on, dad.”

“How’s the job hunt going?”

“Kinda slow.”

Torcer grimaced as he knew this meant his beloved brat wasn’t even trying to find work.  Why should he, when the state provided enough bread and circuses to keep him fat and under the illusion of material happiness? Although, he hated to admit to himself, he was partly responsible, too.  He always sent extra resource credits when asked.  The military man just couldn’t bear the thought of losing his son like he had lost his wife.  He thought that not sending money might drive the boy further down into a spiraling abyss of disenchantment and death.    

“I’ll have them transferred today.”

“Thanks dad.  I gotta go.  I don’t wanna be late.”

“Late for what?”

“A tournament.”

“You and your damn VR games.  How do you expect to find a girlfriend if you just sit in your little hovel all day and...”

“Dad! Leave me alone! I like my life, ok!”

Torcer groaned, “Goodbye, son.”

The doughy apparition disappeared from Torcer’s view.  He thought about his son’s life.  How could anyone be happy with that? He lived in a damn shoebox-size apartment.  He spend nearly all his waking hours overstimulating himself with VR fantasies and games.  No drive.  No initiative.  Just an overstimulated, spoiled consumer.    

The emotional side of Torcer wanted his son to have a child, so that the family lineage would carry on.  Then there was the cold, pragmatic, logical side of Torcer.  He shuddered at the thought of such a grotesque life form reproducing.  His son absolutely disgusted him on so many levels.    

Torcer spent the next hour blowing off some steam by sparring with one of his house-bots.  He threw tons of punches and worked up a good sweat.  Just as he was wrapping things up, the computer called him again, “Torcer, you know...”

“Yes, I know.  If you know that I know, then why do you always have to tell me?” he said angrily.  He wiped his face and head dry with a white towel and checked the time.  “Ok, go ahead and put him on.  Tropical background.”

He threw on a headset and sat casually back in a living room lounge chair.  Then he came face to face with Ventorin.  Torcer smiled over-energetically as waves crashed behind him and palm trees swayed in a warm breeze.  “Hey Ventorin! Welcome to Bali!”

“Save me the horseshit lies, Torcer.  You’re not in Bali anymore than I’m on the moon.  Although, you do look sweatier than usual, I’ll give ya that.  Very convincing.”

Some golden-skinned maidens sauntered by in the background.  “Look what you’re missing out on, keeping yourself locked in that prison, Ventorin.”

“Last time I checked I was here against my will.”  He turned his head and took a closer look at the maidens.  “They’re a little out of your league, don’t ya think?”

Torcer turned a casual eye and took a second look.  “One of them kinda reminds me of a former girlfriend of mine.”

Ventorin shook his head mockingly.  “Let me ask you a question, Torcer.  If you’re in Bali, you must not be too far from some SeAgorists. Talked to my wife lately?”

“She sends her warm regards and hopes you’ll come to your senses one day.”

“Have you ever been to the SeAgora, Torcer?”

Torcer tried to lie, but his facial reaction didn’t allow it.  He couldn’t hide the grim memory he held of his one and only trip to The SeAgora, decades earlier.  Ventorin had struck a deep cord.

Torcer twisted his face ruefully and tapped his hand nervously on his hip.  “A long, long time ago.”

“How long?”

“When I was young, dumb, and full of you know what.”

“That’s pretty ancient.”

“Watch your lip.”

“Now what would a good little government servant like you be doing out there? Surely, you didn’t have any inclinations to...”

“No, certainly not.  Decades ago, when the SeAgora was in its infancy, there was a concerted effort to nip it in the bud.”

“Talk about an epic failure, huh?” Ventorin said quite amused.  He stretched casually and smiled.  “And you said ‘was’.  Nobody’s trying to stop it anymore?”

Torcer kept a poker face.

Ventorin continued, “Why not?”

“That’s above my security clearance, and most certainly well beyond yours.”

“How long were you out there? And what were you doing, exactly? Come on, tell me some wartime stories, like you did about your bloody adventures in World War 4.  You’re a proud soldier, right?”

“I accomplished my mission, we’ll leave it at that,” Torcer said harshly.    

“Sabotage? Murder? What?”

“That’s enough!” Torcer lashed out.  He changed the subject, “Ventorin, I’m coming to see you in person soon.”

“I’ll break out the red carpet for you.”

Torcer cut the call and threw his headset against the wall.  Damn smart-ass.  

Slice 11 Coming Soon!

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