Dead Reckoning and Other Stories

  Dead Reckoning

  And Other Stories

  David M. Kelly

  Nemesis Press

  Copyright © 2015 by David M. Kelly

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form by any electronic or mechanical means including photocopying, recording, or information storage and retrieval without permission in writing from the author.

  ISBN 978-1-9991150-5-0 (E-Book)

  ISBN 978-0-9938890-5-9 (Print)

  Nemesis Press

  Wahnapitae, Ontario

  www.nemesispress.com

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dead Reckoning and other stories

  How Much Is That Doggy?

  Dust to Dust

  Murphy's Law

  Reboot

  Version Control

  A Slight Imperfection

  First Contact

  He Who Controls

  One For The Money

  Acknowledgments

  Also From David M. Kelly

  About The Author

  Dedication

  To my first reader, my editor, my best friend,

  and biggest supporter - my wife, Hilary.

  Dead Reckoning

  Hector Tren-Hump smiled as he lay on the dais waiting to die. The projected MemChron of his life flashed around him as his memories were downloaded, cataloged and indexed one-by-one into the glowing LifeCube hovering just above his forehead. Now and then he heard the gasps and collective ooh's of his assembled family as the Cataloging threw up a LifeScene they recognized.

  He laughed as an image of Miley-Ellyn filled every screen, her chubby face looming close as he held his first born, moments after she'd entered the world. The delicious scent of her fresh baby skin replaced a few seconds later by the stench of cheap cigars. Monty, his first business partner appeared, skinny features whitened and drawn.

  "You can't Hector, it's not right. You can't fire people just because they strike..."

  "Of course we can," Hector sneered. "Effective human capital management will optimize our profits to over three hundred million. How can that be wrong?"

  Monty's eyes were wide. "But it'll cost over fifty thousand jobs."

  "Sure, sure. And ten thousand Thingamese that would otherwise starve get work. Sentiment has no part in business. You know that, Monty."

  "But the Unions? They won't stand by and let this happen."

  Hector let out a disparaging grunt. "Those guys are like anyone else. All you need is the right leverage."

  "You can't buy everyone, Hector."

  "Says who?"

  "And the virtual services? We said they were free and now we're selling the clients down the drain to every marketing company going." Monty scowled.

  "Those idiots? Listen, if you're not the one paying, you're the one getting sold. Even a half-wit knows that."

  Another montage of LifeScenes appeared as the memory of Monty blurred with many similar ones, the Cataloger automatically indexing the events according to the priority Hector's neural pathways gave them.

  Hector lingered on the deal with Monty. Damn he was proud of that. They'd made a commission of fifteen million each that year alone. Monty had handed his share over to some ridiculous charity, but for Hector it was a stepping stone to more extensive projects with ever bigger percentages. That was what had put him in the position he was in now.

  As the brochures said, MemChron was just the beginning.

  After all, anyone with the smarts to put together a couple of hundred K could afford MemChron. Then, when the big day came, they could parade their LifeScenes in front of family and friends, recording them so that their nearest and dearest had a complete record of their life experiences.

  So what? Like life insurance, it didn't help you.

  But, if you wanted something really special...

  "As one of our Select Mortizens you will enjoy unparalleled freedom to indulge yourself in Elyzium. LifePlus has over thirty years' experience in assisting our clients to live their deaths to the fullest. We honor the people we serve with quality as our cornerstone and integrity, respect and compassion as our building blocks. It's like Life, only more so."

  What did they say? If you have to ask the price, you can't afford it. But, if you could, there was Ascendance.

  "Yes Sir, Mr. Tren-Hump. Ascendance in no way interferes with your life-span; you are absolutely guaranteed to get every second coming to you. In fact you may get a few seconds not coming to you." Indulgent chuckle. "Once diagnosed as terminal and, with your consent of course, you'll be brought in to LifePlus Inc's own facilities, where you'll be given the utmost care."

  "First, you're stabilized so that we can manage the LifeScene Cataloging. It's a beautiful ceremony, Sir. I can tell you that many times I've wept at a client's cataloging. Family and friends can attend, of course. Some clients like to invite their hmmm... rivals too, in order to... share... the glory of Ascendance."

  "Once brain core shutdown is detected, the final transfers are completed and your new life begins. You become a LifePlus Select Mortizen, maintained forever in our Elyzium servers. You can continue life's journey for as long as you care to, free to pursue your interests, free to indulge your ambitions and desires in any way you choose."

  "Yes, of course, Sir, you can keep in contact with your family. Most Select members find they enjoy themselves so much they don't feel it necessary, but that's entirely at your discretion."

  Hector rubbed his wizened hands along the fine grained leather of his luxurious chair; he would even be able to keep his feckless son in check.

  "That's right, Sir. Now if you would just care to make your gene imprint here..."

  Gloating over his enemies wasn't necessary; out-existing them was revenge enough for Hector. All he wanted was to ensure he—and his fortune—continued. As a Mortizen, he had no real power, but he had no doubt he could direct his descendants appropriately.

  The rousing strains of the classic "My heart will go on" lilted from hidden speakers and tears welled up in Hector eyes. The LifeScene showed him marrying Kaydianne, despite both his children's objections and his first wife's tears. Kaydianne's cleavage swelled up on the display, filling his world with a pink flesh sky, her heady perfume warming his nostrils, and then...

  ***

  Snap!

  A white-hot pain burned through Hector's chest and head; for one brief second he was overwhelmed by agony roiling up his spine and cauterizing every nerve.

  No, wait. Maybe this isn't such a good idea after all. Can I think this over a little longer? His mind skittered in fear.

  Snap!

  A second stab of agony completed the transfer. The pain was gone. The ache in his limbs that had been there for at least twenty years was gone. The stabilization-induced torpor was gone too.

  And so were his clothes.

  While the first three items were blessings and made him want to jump around screaming like a madman, the idea of wandering naked around the virtual heaven of LifePlus Inc's Select community bothered him. He'd have settled for just about anything, even a pair of pajamas. He had a beautiful pair of dark red silk ones Kaydianne had bought him. She said they made him look just like Bublé in all those classic movies, a little heavier perhaps but...

  Hector's confusion grew as he examined himself. He had the same body he'd died in. Where was the twenty-four year old hunk-body he'd never had, but ordered? And why didn't he have any clothes? Dark red silk, gray woolen worsted, a pair of jeans and a T-shirt promoting General ToyoSan Motors would have been acceptable. Where was his luxury villa, complete with swimming pool and maid service?

&nb
sp; Instead he gazed down on a flabby chest, gray-hair covered man-breasts, flaccid arms and thighs. This wasn't what he'd signed up for. Glowing letters flared up inside his vision, but they were meaningless:

  ———————————————————————————-

  Tren-Hump, Hector. TH15D3AD-1485-13A6-5661A946B3101857

  Cycles: 1 CPU Credit: 1% Ducks: 0.0

  ———————————————————————————-

  Snap!

  Hector jumped, his body arching reflexively. This wasn't the same moment of disconnection he'd experienced during the transfer; this was a blistering pain that cut across his back as though his spine had been ripped out.

  "Okay, Noob. Time to get all those gleaming new Hoxels dirty."

  The creature facing Hector was huge: a powerful humanoid at least three meters tall with four arms and a physique that would have made the Hulk turn white.

  "I'm Marshal, but you call me Sir, and make sure you shout it loud so there's no mistake."

  "What the hell's going on here—yeow!" Hector squealed again as the whip snapped out and flayed across his shoulders. Virtual or not, the pain felt like his skin had been torn from his body.

  "SIR!"

  Hector cowered, the searing pain in his back throbbing mercilessly. "What the hell's going on here, Sir?"

  Again the whip lashed out and Hector screamed.

  "And be respectful when you speak to me," bellowed the Marshal. The whip flicked several times like a cat swishing its tail but didn't land a blow. "Join the line and get ready to do some heavy duty Judgment."

  "Judgment? Ahhhh!" The whip lashed out again, wrapping around Hector's flabby torso and slicing pain across his midriff. "You've no idea who I am, do you? I'll make your life a living hell by the time I'm done."

  Crack! The whip coiled around Hector's neck and he was jerked to the floor at the feet of the giant. A booted foot pressed down on his throat, threatening to choke the life out of him. A blistering agony erupted in his right buttock and he squirmed in a pathetic attempt to escape as the Marshall pressed what seemed to be a branding iron against him.

  Just as Hector felt he couldn't take any more the pressure on his neck lifted. "You Noobs are so funny. Your ass officially belongs to me. Now get in line before my sense of humor runs out. I didn't pay all those Ducks to waste it on the likes of you."

  Hector spotted a group of other naked people close by, each one with an angry red mark somewhere on their buttocks. He joined them, nodding in reflex at a couple of people who looked vaguely familiar.

  A mistake had been made and when he got to the bottom of it, heads were going to roll. By God, he'd make sure of that.

  The Marshal glowered at them. "You disgust me. Why did you come here if you can't even afford the basics like clothes? I can't bear to look and you're going to get everyone else so upset they can't Judge properly. Here."

  An itchy sensation developed in Hector's groin as a set of black crotch-hugging shorts appeared; the tightness gave him the distinct feeling that he looked even more naked wearing them. Worse, they chafed like the roughest haircloth when he moved.

  The Marshal marched forward, singing loudly and badly off-key.

  "You thought you were going to play." The group shuffled along behind him, echoing his tortured chant.

  "In your paradise every day."

  "You have got a lot to learn."

  The man next to Hector whispered, "Sing along or we'll all get it."

  "We have got so much to learn," they chorused.

  "If you don't, I'll make you squirm."

  "If we don't he'll make us squirm."

  "Sound off."

  "One. Two."

  "Sound off."

  "Three. Four."

  After what seemed like hours, the Marshal led them into a large building segregated into an infinite number of identical cubicles. They reminded Hector of the stark interiors of several companies he'd owned. Occasionally he'd been forced to put in an appearance at one or another; sometimes to reassure a whining workforce but more often to implement classic management strategy by planting fear, uncertainty and doubt.

  "Take the first empty cube on your right. Someone will give you your assignments," the Marshal boomed, his voice magnified far beyond the point of human capacity.

  "What if we don't?" Hector regretted the words as soon as he spoke; and regretted them even more when the whip cracked over his raw back again. Before anything else could happen he took the first empty cube on his right.

  His cube was a featureless gray box designed to fulfill the most basic functionality and not one iota more. Nevertheless, Hector slid into the chair with a sigh as if it were the most luxuriously upholstered Lay-Z-Boy, still wincing at the pain in his buttocks. The march had drained his strength, though he couldn't understand how he could feel tired here. He was now a virtual MemChron pattern living inside a Zettabyte virtual environment, maintained by thousands of banks of volumetric image processors.

  A head poked around the door, the fat dark features rife with boredom. "I am Fetch. Your projects are: A4718DV, T9901TM, B64589SA, W7652LK, C5677KL, F1529TY..." The figure reeled off at least another fifty other codes. "The sooner you are being started, the sooner you will be getting finished."

  "Start what?"

  The rotund head vanished but reappeared seconds later. "You are having been recruited for Judgment. That is your direction."

  The Marshal had mentioned Judgment, but Hector had no idea what it was. "I don't know what's going on here, but there's been a mistake. I'm Hector Tren-Hump, a Select LifePlus member and I demand to be put in contact with a representative from LifePlus Inc. immediately."

  Fetch smiled. "Ah... you want to be speaking to LifePlus? Why did you not be saying so?"

  This sounded more promising, Hector thought. Now he'd sort out this mess. His LifePlus lifestyle was out there waiting for him and he was eager to get on with it.

  "Welcome to the LifePlus Incorporated Select Member helpline. Your new life starts here."

  Hector jumped as the display appeared from nowhere, floating in his vision like an afterimage caused by staring at something too long. The all-too perfect features of a virtual host filled his vision with milky white skin. "It's about time. Someone has made a big mistake and I don't believe in forgiveness. I'm Hector Tren-Hump and I de-"

  "Our office hours are 10:00:00 to 10:00:01 UT. Please leave a message after the tone."

  The long beep reminded Hector of the moment in TriVid crime shows when a key character died after a long and pointless coma. He was completely unprepared for the messaging system and missed the opportunity. "One second? Their operating hours are one second? What the hell am I supposed to do with that?" Hector asked, not expecting an answer.

  "You should be leaving a message of course," Fetch chuckled. "Now please be working on your projects. We are making allowances for you being a Noob. But we could just be doing this."

  A jolt of pain shot through his still raw buttocks and danced agonizingly upwards. Hector squawked and tried to clamber off the chair but was stuck to the seat.

  "Judgment," Fetch commanded. "You are having your assignments."

  "Wait. How do I call back?" Hector felt his strength drain, a feeling that worsened with each beat of his pulse. "I need to leave a message."

  "We are having a one call per cycle limit to the Help-desk."

  Hector collapsed over the featureless desk top, his head falling into the nest of his arms.

  "Hey, you..."

  Hissed words drifted over the top of the cubicle from the adjoining one.

  "If you don't work, you ain't going to make it."

  "Me? Who? What?" Hector struggled to think coherently; a chill seemed to envelop him from nowhere. "Who're you?"

  "I'm your Fairy Godmother, of course. You ain't given enough SeePeeYoo for a whole cycle. You have to work. Otherwise you'll get Hibernated and you really wouldn't enjoy that
."

  "Hibernated?" Hector struggled to respond.

  "Okay bud. You need a shot or you're not even going to get through this conversation. You need to do some work." The voice hesitated. "Why the hell I should care, I don't know. See the gray patch on the right? Swipe your hand over it. That'll activate your console. You'll get enough of a boost that we can carry on talking."

  Hector scanned the desk top but struggled to focus. "It's all gray..."

  "Sure, sure. If it was easy it wouldn't be work, now would it?"

  Hector scraped his hand over the desk in vague gestures, the slight texture almost imperceptible against his skin; it seemed useless but he tried. Just as he felt he was going to pass out, a glowing square appeared. At the same time he felt a new-found strength course through his body. "Wow. That feels better." Hector stretched in his seat. "Maybe I can get out of here now."

  "Listen, you dope. All you've done is activate your screen; that's given you enough SeePeeYoo to keep you going a couple of minutes maybe. Check your DUD."

  "DUD?"

  "Dead-Up-Display. Geez. It tells you what your SeePeeYou is. Once that's gone, you're Hibernated."

  Hector realized the voice was talking about the display inside his vision. The CPU reading was at half a percent.

  "So what's Hibernation?"

  "You'll find out if you're not careful. Just think of it as the worst place you don't want to be."

  Hector swore to himself. "Okay, okay. I don't want to be Hibernated. I get it. What do I do?"

  "You work. Use the controls and screen to play the Judgments. Each one you complete earns you SeePeeYoo. Complete your quota and you earn enough not to get Hibernated and you-"

  "And I don't want to be Hibernated. Give it a rest will you?" Hector wasn't paying much attention; he needed to contact the outside. Whatever had gone wrong had better be fixed quickly, or he'd make sure people lost their jobs.

  "If you're so smart I'll save my SeePeeYoo and leave y..."

  "Wait. I didn't mean that. What controls? I don't see anything."

  Gray on gray, naturally. If it was easy, it wouldn't be work, Hector thought.

  Silence dragged on and Hector was convinced his unseen ally had deserted him. The weakness crept back, his thoughts and movements slowing much faster than before. "Please?" he hissed.