Welcome to Mainframe 6
Gwent's Dream
The forest was in half-light,
The dawn mist hung like a thick blanket over the treetops,
Luminous and violet,
Lit by the horizon's awakening,
The crystal mountain.
The magnificent amethyst stone glowed brightly,
As the rising sun illuminated the sky,
Slowly the sun shifted,
Filtering and dispersing the light into wide beams,
Cutting through the clouds and digging through the trees,
The once dark forest now drowned in the haze.
The sun rose higher,
Behind the transparent rock,
Refracting and shifting through the angles of the mountain's side,
Graceful and dancing violet rays.
The eye,
Now at the centre of the peak,
White and full,
As the sky grew brighter.
The summit became blinding
The star now unshielded
In the deep cyan sky.
The Hidden Source
1-Man must evolve symbiotically with technology
2- Obsolete humans must be phased out
3-The evolutionary system of economics must be defended at all costs
4- Only those at the top of their field may be replicated.
5- The chosen few, who are the future of man must be protected over the dying many.
6- Philosophies that contradict our own must be manipulated or eliminated
7- Our existence must be kept hidden
C1
I love you
But you can never know
If I let you in only for a second it would be the end of me
Once I open that floodgate I would be wrecked
To let myself go
Would be dangerous
This is the only defense I have
So I am protecting you
From myself
It can never be
Waking from the deep silence, the sanctified cocoon of sleep, slowly the peace faded. The re-occurring thoughts surfaced. The Unanswerable, futile questions, cycled. Phrased in a myriad of ways achieving nothing. Roach analysing Roach analysing Roach analysing…
Of course he is not alone, not in his thoughts. All have the confusion, the fear. Going round in circles, paradox minds, they all suffer in silence. He sees them doing this to themselves but it is from them that he caught the disease. This is why he hates them, as they hate each other, as they hate themselves.
As long as they keep quiet all is okay. It's what is on the outside that is important.
In a mindless waking habit he pointed with his left hand at the open space directly in front of him. An image alit in colour and shape casting a half-light into the room as a female newsreader's figure came into focus. "…Was found dead in the nation's capital this morning. It is believed that she died last night from a heart attack. The death of the 'Unity Light' party's leader has undeniably come at an unfortunate time and is bound to effect the political and spiritual faith of the party's followers..." He had heard enough; all was wrapped up and clean, as he knew it would be. Passing his hand over his arm terminal the moving images vanished and the room returned to darkness and he to his thoughts.
'The news never reflects the true story and I've been a part of this from the beginning. A factor in many a major incident, invisible in every story. What is 'official' becomes undisputed as those who may have doubts soon give up and just learn to go with the flow. I do not agree with the way things are, what I am made to do but who likes their jobs anyway? We are all whores at the end of the day. The only freedom you can have is to know it and stop lying to yourself, then who would want to stop doing that? What other source of happiness have we? I'm not in the belly of this beast but I am still on the outskirts looking in. So does that make me freer than most? No, I am just a by-product. So I forget about it and get on with my day. Just like the rest of us.'
The clear glassy surface of his AT glowed blue in the darkness, waiting to be activated to fade the room into full light. With reluctance he brought himself to activate it, to start the day. If it had not been a week since his last meeting with his brothers he would have stayed in bed so with a sense of apathetic duty he waved his hand across the glow and the flat blind of the window slowly rose in silence. A crack of bright sunlight shone in, casting deep silhouettes across the room as it rose. Roach turned on his side to face the opposite wall avoiding the glaring brightness of the hangover morning. He had taken over double his daily Retium allowance the previous night, not including all the hidden quantities in the water and food, and now he felt it. The shadow of the blind climbed to the top of the wall on his left and now the bedroom was in fully lit. Pulling the sheets back he got up wearily and passed through the door that led into one of the largest, most aesthetic and intelligent automated bathrooms wealth could be wasted on. With squinted eyes, avoiding his reflection, he popped some painkillers from the medicinal drawer and washed in the revitalising heat and steam. Dried and feeling more awake now he returned to his bedroom and walked across its spacious floor to the glass wall, it opened from its centre as he approached and he stepped out into the fresh chill of his balcony to take in the day from this vast and most high perspective.
He looked up, the sun shone brilliantly in the clear blue emptiness of the sky. This was the way at this height though many would never see it like this. For Roach was one of the privileged elite and only birds and Gods could fly so close to the star that many never saw. He looked down, to the dark sea. Miles of thick grey, yellow chemical cloud overcast the island to the horizon and beyond, the bottom side of this blanket was the sky for many. Yet even at this height, with this freedom and wealth, he still felt like a prisoner. Though he was able to escape temporarily in his mind, to project himself to other places as real as this one, he was always physically rooted here, in Subordinate Mainframe 6.
Looking to the horizon, thoughts of the city arose. Beyond sight a violent ocean raged encircling this metallic island, providing all the hydro-electric power it needed to run. A self sustaining mass-automated mega-machine with all the necessities for survival technology and humans would need and more. So perfect was its foundation design that it was no original but merely a clone one of the many worldwide, what had originally been quarantine refuges from the Epidemic had become permanent homes to all. This enforced 'World peace' had resulted in the abolishing of independent governments and now an international council existed which traded exemplary social and technologically trends of the Mainframes between them. The global unity of the people insisted on a melting pot society. Entire races were moved from their homes and families and pushed into new ones, as national identities and cultures diluted. Racial and minority group meetings were declared illegal, as potential disturbances of the peace. Thus racism became a thing of the past and a concept many could not even comprehend. Though with no enemy left to fight, no demons to fear a new one was created. The sub-levels, those made economically obsolete by progress and those who just could not cope to work so hard, move so fast, dwelled in the lower levels and in derelict outskirts. Some in poverty and squalor, some making do and living in a relative peace. However the media played on the fear of the topsiders capturing and epitomising the sub-level's worst scenes to remind them that if they slipped they would sink into this lower realm, with no security and no order to protect them. Of course, it was the top level that stoked the fires of fear, to enforce order up top. How did people think the sub-level gangs got guns in the first place? Black market ties with the arms industry meant that weapons were practically given away to help them kill each other off. In a world so automated, were everything is accounted for and nothing goes amiss, you would have thought that something could be done about this. Of course it could. Fear is a productive industry.
It was in these sub-levels that Roach's brothers lived and there he heard more peace in the minds than the slaves' topside.
A soft cheery melody sung from his A.T. The mail tune. The mail icon flashed in the air above his forearm and he touched the glowing image. A small animation of an envelope opening preceded the message.
369XAD1 : ROACH
250,000 Kc
Has been credited to your account.
-----------------------END ------------------------
Coming out of the mailbox he went to his study. Entering he walked to his priceless antique typewriter on the solid oak desk at the far end of the room, previous days entries where scattered messily around it and a glass of stale water had been sat there for days, the waste paper bin on the floor was overflowing with self denial. Due to his increasing paranoia Roach had decided to keep his writings in the physical world where they could not be found. He kept his study technologically old on purpose, as a security measure, so as a result of this and his habitually lazy behaviour it remained unkempt and messy always, which suited his mind just fine. Two heavily melted church candles sat either side as if adorning an altar, dead matches lay at their bases. However, in the wash of sunlight these were not needed and sitting down surrounded by the dancing stars of dust he began to type.
"Payday. I must be one of the richest men in 6 by now. Worthy of replication even, not that I'd want it. The cloned modifications of the elite own the future, that's the closest thing to parenthood nowadays.
That is so twisted when I think about it but dwelling on what we can't change does not help anyone. You just have to learn to accept things. That is why you write isn't it Roach, to accept, to deal. Your own private therapist is yourself. That's crazy isn't it? Well, not any more crazy than going to a 'real' therapist to solve my problems when I can see that they're no better off than the next guy…But this is not just therapy, by writing my mind I can see my thoughts, the ones that belong to me. These are my thoughts, this is my mind.
I record my thoughts into writing so I don't lose myself in all these external minds. To get an idea about my self, to find out if there is a self, one I can call mine.
These new tranqs I've been taking dull my senses better than the old ones, I can't see so much. Sometimes I wish that I could be completely blind to it all. Ignorance is bliss. No, I love it and hate it at the same time. That's life I suppose. My psychic gift and burden.
I am going down to see the brothers today, it's that time when we all get wrecked, I don't really feel in the mood but they'd kill me if I didn't go. It's a brotherhood duty.
I like it down there I find the people more honest, real. They are on the outside who they are on the inside and though this may be an ugly sight, at least they're not hiding their true selves, like the majority up top.
I could afford to party and socialise with the 'high fliers', have successful acquaintances, mingle, network contacts and all that bull****. But in my line of work there's no dick sucking involved, I don't even get to see my employer. So I'm at the top, and up here the only way to go is down.'
Pulling out a page and dumping it on the desk a slight pain in his temples told him that his hangover headache was not completely dead so sliding open a drawer of his desk; he reached for the definite cure. A jar of custom Retium, physical and mental stimulation with extra emotional tranqs to lessen the pain of the voices, designed specifically for his metabolism. They sat amongst various clutter, a few lighters, pens, candles and a black rectangular box, in it was a gun. He'd never fired a single blast and probably never would need to unless his psyche' failed him or he finally decided to kill himself but there it lay, charged with the safety on, sitting carelessly amongst the mess. Popping off the lid of the jar, he knocked back a couple of the bright Rets. "Hair of the dog" he said to himself. He got up to lie back down on his bed and waited for the rush to kick. Drifting away, he was soon jolted back awake sharply. He felt the rush, heat in his veins, his body tensed and he clenched his teeth as the wave washed through him.
Rejuvenated he was now ready for anything and in the grips of the acceleration he had to move. Before he knew it he was dressed and in the elevator rising, it stopped and the doors opened to reveal the sleeping quarters of his best friends. The lights faded up, reflecting beautifully against their immaculate metallic contours. The Gliders, electro-magnet powered vehicles which flew across the many strips that filled the skies of 6 and its clones, and Roach possessed eighteen of the most ingeniously designed specimens ever created. His babies, his steeds, the space they inhabited was an art galley and each shone in their spotlights, grand and proud. Though Roach had seen and admired this display many times before and now he just wanted to ride. He jumped straight onto his choice machine and kicked the one-man chopper into life. It leapt forward and reared like a wild horse, now hovering above the magnetic flooring as its insides hummed warmly in awakening. The far wall rose to reveal the empty sky, its harsh unwelcoming wind rushing in. Roach turned the Glider round to face the cold, he donned his riding goggles, then pushed down hard upon the pedal. Intense acceleration, he shot forward, magnetic generators roaring, hot as they spun. Gripping the control axis tight he steadied himself, the force pushing him back into his seat as the Glider bolted forward effortlessly. Through the exit and into the chill air, the strip began its descending curve to meet the vertical drop but as Roach came to meet it he disengaged the magnets and with sheer velocity, holding his breath he shot free of the strip and into the sky.
He fell, weightless and drifting. Flying down for hundreds of feet, above the tranquil sea of clouds that now lay in front of him. Stillness overcame him, his eyes closed, the world no longer existing, he allowed himself to drift dangerously far from the vertical strip without a care. As in this timeless place, this ritualistic drop, he felt at peace, and one day by this graceful dive he may liberate himself forever. 'Not today.' He told himself and just before he reached the point of no return he opened his eyes and slammed his base-magnets back on into full negative attraction. The Glider took a sharp dive forwards pulled back towards the strip, as he came in closer he lowered the magnetic power as to not ground himself and then slipped the base-mags back into automatic. Now clinging tight to the vertical strip once more, he continued his descent.
Falling deep into the fog of the clouds his way became obscured as he was swallowed in its wetness, dissipating into hard rain as he passed though the grey his way now clear. Now the chaotic insides, the vast machine city were revealed in all their twisted beauty and grandeur. From this highest of heights he could see the huge network of intertwined strips weaved intricately round each other as they scaled between towering structures, a huge luminous cobweb. Not only the transport routes of the city, they also acted as electricity wires, its veins and arteries.
He used this death defying stunt everyday on his private vert-strip, no one but him lived at the very top of this immense work colony tower and he used the gravity to take him to a much higher speed than even his highly customised glider would allow. Using this launch it was possible to coast all the way to the lower levels without the use of his rear-mag accelerators, providing no body got in his way. The customising of his base-mags enabled him to do this, most gliders are designed to cling to the strips permanently on automatic attraction but with the polarity modifier installed he could do all sorts of dangerous tricks. If anything got in the way he could just boost the positive power and 'frog leap' over them.
The super structures of 6 not only acted as multi-purpose buildings but as pillars, supporting the very ground which the level 3 topsiders walked on, and the roof which sheltered the majority of L2. The land mass of each level was circular in boundary and became larger as you descended. From far away in the empty sea the Mainframes could be likened to colossal pyramids, though on the islands themselves it was not easy to gain this perspective unless you were to travel out to the borders to one of the four directional outer lying zones. The reason for this dense layering of levels and subsequent movement restrictions came primarily because of the overpopulation boom but also due to the vast achievement and prosperity of the people and their machines. Building more, creating more, faster and faster, prolific and exponential. Many thanked technology, many thanked pharmaceuticals, many thanked the government and many did not thank anything. All this prosperity and achievement had ultimately created more chaos and confusion, and for that not all were grateful. Not that anyone up on L2 or 3 would get to hear those sorts of opinions, as those who displayed such discontent found it hard to cooperate with such an artificial beast of a reality and would sink to the sub-levels. No one would choose to live in such impoverished squalor, that just seemed to be the fate of those who refused to move with the times. As the new builds upon the old, extinction is unavoidable.
So it was onto the pinnacle of this great civilisation that Roach descended to. A living, breathing ever-moving organism, anonymous en-masse yet with a closer interpersonal examination still retained the humanity and spirit of the individual, if you looked in the right place. Yet gradually this was a breed that was dying.
Darting across the four lanes he weaved through the traffic like an agile bird. Most of the gliders that rode the strip were two or four seated and filled the widths of the lanes riding on docile auto-driver but with chemically enhanced reactions and pre-emptive skill Roach skimmed past gliders at three times their speed with great ease. A succession of horns followed as onlookers watched in awe and speechless rage as he flew past them in a blur. Roach saw this as a salute and praise rather than abuse and smiled inwardly. Pissing people off was a talent, leaving them dumbfounded and shocked was another. Images rapidly passed overhead as he flew, alit in colour and motion, short animated jingling loops danced in the air, preaching drinks, clothes, shops, gadgets, films, pills and life. In an intense barrage of movement and sound specifically designed to spellbind the receiver into feeling that they are missing something, and that perfection is just around the corner. Millions of dancing logos and slogans filled 6, everything was an advert but Roach was immune and ignored them but he knew that the market researchers would find a way into his mind somehow. He was an expert in psychic manipulation and thus could see it everywhere.
It was in the speed of the strips that he shook off his this resentment for a society so devious in controlling itself, his anger released in the malevolent rush, the danger setting him free. His riding, a subversive blaspheme and insult against the system he was destined to serve. This was his free will.
Fast approaching the back of four single-man gliders his way through was blocked. Pulling back the polarity modify hard, he jolted back as he leaped up high over the traffic with the sudden force of repulsion. Pushing it back up into auto his glider was tugged back sharply and he bounced down returning to the strip, landing right in the middle of a security convoy. Four stunned members of the 6SD watched open mouthed from their separate single man gliders as Roach touched down right in the middle of there proud 'V' formation. His speedometer maxed and in the red he shot right through them in a blur and on into the distance. The first piece of action the cops had seen all day and they were more than ready. Without order, they boosted their rear mags into full and the formation leapt into the chase in a sheer rush of G-force.
Roach checking his rear screen he was pleased to see they were onto him, sirens piercing a high frequency through the noise of 6 and green lights spinning brighter than all the blinding motion in the sky. The security team adopted the straight 'snake' formation to manoeuvre through the dozing traffic that was still in the way. Further up ahead, gliders automatically cleared to the sidelines and slowed allowing a clear speedway, the passengers watching enthralled as the chase flashed by. The leading pursuer flicked on his immobiliser beam and a wave of energy pulsed forward across the width of the strip, passing through Roach and the civilian gliders to his side. All gliders but Roach's dropped suddenly and scraped down hard upon the metal, sparks flying as the following vehicles crumpled violently into their rears; meanwhile Roach remained magnetised and cruising at full pelt. Seeing the action he smiled upon the carnage caused by the blatant lack of profession of not centralising the wave, nor anticipating his the hardware he had on-board to prevent such an attack. Suddenly a bolt of white heat flashed past the side of Roach's head. "I take it that was a warning shot." Roach said to himself. Then in an evasive manoeuvre Roach pulled a hard left then a sharp right, turning round vigorously to face the strips edge. Cutting directly in front of the speeding convoy, they swerved as he maxed the positive polarity and launched high over the side barrier, into an empty drop. Slowing, the security looked back in wonder at the suicide jump of their chase but drawing up to the side they looked down to the drop. One hundred feet below a four-lane strip ran in the opposite direction and in-between the scattered traffic an accelerating bullet darted away, followed by a chorus of beeping. Determined not to lose the chase they turned round hard and climbed back up to speed going the wrong way back down the strip. The commanding officer turned and launched with agility and confidence followed closely by the others. Free from the magnetic pull, gravity claimed them into the fall. As the leading few prepared for the land, the tailing rider faltered; losing balance he leaned too far to the side and twisted. The riders slowed, their magnets engaging forces with the approaching strip as the end rider continued to drop rapidly. The crushing impact created a magnetic explosion, an electric flash, shooting shards of shrapnel into the oncoming traffic as the remaining three steadied themselves into the bounce of the landing. Twisting hard to the right and then into full thrust, escaping the pile up as civilian gliders crashed and rebounded nosily behind them.
Roach was still in sight having lost his former speed in the U-turn. Weaving and jumping through the congested lanes, the traffic suddenly parted in the wake of their fast approaching sirens, they were gaining on him. The oncoming gliders were now moving aside to reveal one of the many entrance tunnels to the grand L2 'Shopping-City' complex. A mile wide giant of a structure, glowing in a bright movement of logos and images, kaleidoscopic and entrancing, sub-consciously seductive, Roach passed through into the light of the tunnel. The sirens soon reverberated loudly around the walls, as the green lights chased closely behind. A cannon blast in an electric crack cut through the wailing noise and a sudden thud was felt through the rear plating against Roach's back, a melting hiss accompanied the scent of molten metal. Until now Roach had just been playing with them but now it had got serious, they had scarred his glider. With the road cleared up ahead and an angered mind he closed his eyes:
Three security gliders flying in 'V' formation, guns poised. His mind became one with the left wing and against a weak resistance of the psyche, claimed control over his body. Now, the familiar feeling of mind control in possession of another vessel, all slowed into a dreamy silence, lucidity. In front, the leading rider had his gun poised and Roach could hear the man preparing determinedly to take another shot. The gun that Roach now held was also aimed at the physical body Roach had temporarily left unoccupied, and if he did not act now he would not have one worth returning to. Moving his aim to the right he paused and focused. A heavy bolt shuddered his arm in recoil as the leading rider screamed, his cannon ripping from his grip, molten hot and smoking as it fell. With no hesitation, Roach controlling this puppet he then pulled a sharp right and boosted the positive polarity, jumping up into a damaging collision with the right wing's torso. In a catastrophic impact the two gliders tangled and rolled, scraping and flipping off the walls and ground in a mass of flying sparks. The riders sprawled limply as their vehicles twisted and crashed down one final time in a white flash that sent a shock-wave through the tunnel air. Just before his possessed came to an exhilarating end Roach flew away, returning to his own flesh and bones.
The noise, speed and colours of the waking consciousness returned and in his rear view the blackened twisted metal of wreckage sat sparking sporadically as it trailed away with speed into the distance. Still in pursuit, the lone rider not letting himself be swayed by the inexplicable madness that he had just witnessed, shouted into his helmet frantically demanding backup and medics. Up ahead the lanes split, to the right side above the track hung a flashing sign which boldly read 'Shopping City- Parking Zone', and to the left another 'Vertical Drop-L2-0' and in red letters 'Warning – FREE FALL KILLS – Watch your speed. Roach quickly scanned the officer's mind. No wife, no family, no compassion and a black heart, countless evil deeds revealed themselves to him. Sliding to the left, soon the road was curving down into the vertical tunnel. As the turning gravity was felt in his gut, the blood rushed to his head, he disengaged the mags and welcomed the accelerating rush of the descent. The drop stretched straight for a seeming infinity a sheer vertical from 2 all the way down to ground zero. Only the strongest base-mags could handle the land but they still had to be operated by an experienced rider and no cop had ever made it pass this stage. The green lights still tailed him and Roach had to give the guy credit, he was nearly as crazy as he was. Massing G's, weightless velocity, they dropped as unidentifiable blurs nearly hitting civilians, skimming dangerously close to the gliders now with no time to react to the siren that was gone as quick as it came. Rapidly passing through a surrounding wall of white light that indicated the level one halfway point Roach knew he must ready himself for the quick arrival of zero and focusing he steadied his hand on the polarity stick. The strip started to make a steep and gradual curve, though at the sheer speed they were going the landing curve would become the flat metal of ground zero almost instantly.
To make his escape efficient Roach was going to have to reapply the mags as late as possible and as he met the curve he gradually raised his positive polarity as the slope became steeper, this counteracted the force of the descent skilfully keeping him the same distance from the strip. Meeting the graduation at phenomenal speed the cop made the last mistake he would ever make, trusting the mind of a machine over his own judgement he slipped back into automatic transmission. This is where all had faltered before, no auto system invented could anticipate the force needed to oppose such a sudden landing and in the split second between his glider scraping the metal before him and his incalculably quick death, he became aware of this fact.
Falling chunks of disfigured steel ricocheted and spun rapidly chasing Roach into the tight landing curve, before touching down, crunching and rolling onto the main strip of ground-zero. The scene resembled a metal works garbage shoot to the bystanders watching on in bewilderment, as those nearby dived for shelter from the flaying wreckage. Roach emerging unscathed, glided through the dense activity of the eight-lane strip and gently engaged the front magnet, slowing gradually to the legal limit. Now nearly at his destination he no longer desired the attention of the law. Inertia sickness, still falling and rushing forward his heart pounded in his chest, still physiologically speeding his adrenalin pumped. Breathing deep and sharp he lifted a hand from the wheel and holding it up, watched it shake. 'Near death experiences.' He thought to himself 'Makes life worth living.'
for more info:
MySpace.com - www.myspace.com/kastoacha 
Linear Mode
