The Spurious signal

Waking up to another morning with lead colored skies. Another day of monotonous limbo. I aimlessly scrolled in bed for yesterday’s war machine highlights.

“Greetings, Ben. Lovely day. Did you recharge optimally?”

The onboard neuralink system always addressed me with kindheartedness. It’s not prudent to name our machines- since attachments are a sign of weakness, they say. .. But in my heart, I call her ARLA. She is always the highlight of my day.

I’m jaded about everything else. Every day, we prospects mandatorily participate in a ‘game’ that’s overseen by our war department. It hooks our minds into the war machines and it virtually takes us on missions across different conflict-zones. The higher the body count, the better the score. The top players get a prideful mention from the grand wizard of war at the weekly briefing.

As for the failing players, they get an excruciating jolt from the helmet consoles. They are programmed to go off, when prospects fall behind on missions, and they won't come off, until mistakes are rectified. When there’s consecutive FUBARs, the Republic Bureau of Investigations takes such losers away.

Everybody sees your game score. That is your worth. With a high score, the amenities are bountiful; Fathers are proud, you get to take elevators, and an Applewood scented clean air in your dorms for a week! Now- With a below par score, republics' perks become inaccessible; Food purchases, mass transit use becomes marginalized. There's a steep fine that must be paid in full too… Losers are quickly phased out, and the strongest remain.

I love how the Chairman calls us the ‘Neo-Spartans’.

Not to brag, but I was above combat drone operator level, before I was 7. The game used to be fun, but the constant upkeep of my worth score has lost its meaning lately. The energy tonic distributed by the health council burns my throat and worsens my migraines, so I’ve been quietly cutting back. It just might be me- but without that drink, my mind feels clearer. I get feelings I never had before.

Downstairs in our republic dormitory, I heard Father getting ready for his day. We don’t talk that much. He only wants to know about my worth, and how my war machine is performing on missions. Since my mind was curious, I asked his least favorite question-

“-Father, could you share more about my other procreator?”

My balding elder sighed annoyingly. “This question again? I’ve told you, your mother died when she gave birth to you. Nothing more!”

-I don't grieve her much anymore, because technically, we never met. Yet lately, when I’m not adrenalized from being linked to the machine all day, I've been having visions from my youth. I cannot remember her face, but she held me close and gazed lovingly. That person must have been my mother. I think…?

“Hellllooo-?! There you go daydreaming again. You’re due to link up in 17minutes. Let’s go!” I tried to tell him details of this motherly figure from my daydreams, but he shut me down.

“Look, if you want a female parent so badly- You better score high every single mission! We need 5million points by the end of the fiscal year, in order to qualify me for a republic remarriage license! You got it, dipshit?”

The unavailable patriarch jabbed his fingers into my chest with each word; “-You. Have. To. Earn. It!” Then, he pushed me out of the way, to open the front door.

“Don’t fuck this up..” Then he abruptly left… Good!! I double fisted my middle fingers behind the door. I hate that GenZ-geezer! He gives no fucks about me. Most fathers with sons are in the Advanced Neuromorphic Fusion Program. That’s the agreement. You see, the old farts don’t have the brain capacity that we- the prospects have to properly link up with the war machines.

We are the ‘upgraded generation’.

Our Chairman calls us as such!

Today’s mission should be straightforward anyways. As I wolfed down my vitamin-Chipotle hot pocket, and chugged a tall can of diet-Methamphetamine Watermelon tonic, my mind wandered.

-Do Watermelons really taste like this?-

-I wonder how Methamphe..feta..whatever grows?-

-I have so many questions, but-

-I am not allowed to ask them-

…Then, the Joint Republic Warfare Assessment interrupted my pipe dreams…

INCOMING MISSION:

LINE 1 – TIME OF OBSERVATION

081500SEP 2047”

LINE 2 – LOCATION

AlphaRomeo 121989

LINE 3 – UNIT

Two to three revolutionary insurrectionists possibly with IEDs

LINE 4- SENDERS ASSESSMENT

Enemy CRP attempting to evade detection in building

LINE 5 – NARRATIVE

Neutralize on sight

-OVER-

-I tapped my right temporal point, and moved my cornea cursor to respond.

WM09 Acknowledged

-OUT-

“Off to gain points, make Papa proud, get us a new Mama, and save the republi-cccc!!..”

-Hmm? ARLA didn’t respond to my snark pep-talk. Strange. She is normally a bit more interactive. Was she nervous about this mission somehow? How..? That’s impossible. She.. Um, ..IT, is a highly evolved program. I itched for our usual small talk, but duty called.

Fine.

I got to the game throne, next to the kitchenette nook, and slid myself into the War machine Operator Haptic Suit. The dreaded helmet automatically lowered itself, encasing my skull snugly, with a dual screw bolt mechanism whining to an inescapable lock. There's constant vibrato of electrical fluctuations, like a faulty ballast in a fluorescent bulb. The camera of the war machine was linked to my helmet console, and the heads up display showed aerial drones giving me a birds eye view of the target site. Seems like we are in the outskirts of town as usual; Unlike our shiny world, it’s filthy, obsolete. Imperfect. These terrorists scrounge in such destitute shitholes.

WM09 Lift off in 3..2..1..

The invigorating part of it all, is when the war machine gets launched towards the target from ANFT forward base, where father is stationed. I get sling-shotted by the electromagnetic catapult that would blast me over the horizon.

Everything happens in an exhilarating blur!

Then the Airbrake flaps and landing boosters on the war machine activates, along with the Rogallo winged Parachute.

So quiet

So peaceful

So beautiful

So... Free…

The drones in the area flashed their infrared lasers to assist with the navigation. I conducted final assessments on the onboard weapon system. The canopy disengaged, and released me right towards the landing sight.

WM09 Inbound Locating target

With a thunderous boom, the war machine landed combat ready. Quick panoramic view finder scanned for enemy movement, but I detected nothing. Switched to thermal imaging, and voice detection, and lo and behold, I heard whispered prayers from inside the stonewall facility, behind what seemed like square building materials stacked vertically next to each other, like fragile saltine cracker packages.

“...God, I offer myself to Thee - To build with me and to do with me as Thou wilt…”

Reliev…”

WM09 Enemy detected Engaging

From the left arm of the war machine, I double tapped the thermobaric rounds to demolish the stone walls by the entrance. Switching to my primary weapon, I sawed through the remaining wall in front of me. The red muzzle flash engulfed my aiming circle on the heads-up display. 8.6x63mm shells ejected like a slot machine on a good day and clanged loudly onto the floor. I then launched four tear gas rounds to lure out any survivors. I paused to survey any movement, but as expected- Dead silent..

LINE 1 – DIRECTIVE

Confirm neutralization

-OVER-

I ripped out what remained of the entrance. I trudged into the smoke filled building. ARLA’s scanner highlighted some letters on the corner of the wall that I didn’t destroy. There was a partial sign that read- ‘..Franklin… Pub..’ I also observed a long counter near the entrance, and more seating scattered all around. Ah… These bootleggers are trying to establish their underground bar of sorts? Don’t they know that distilling unsanctioned alcohol goes against republic law? I made a note to incinerate their stash, once I located it.

Moving in further into the enemy compound, I was struck by the massive ancient figures plastered on all of the walls. The colors have faded, but it’s wild to think old-timers actually used to paint still moments like these. They must have taken months completing these by hand, for what takes seconds with nano technology nowadays,.. I was mesmerized…

LINE 1 – ANFT

Hey! Stop putzin’ around!

…I suddenly felt a jolt of electricity around my skull. That sounded like Father. I guess he’s watching.

LINE 2 – ANFT

Stay on mission!! Acknowledge!

Okok, sightseeing is over.

WM09 Acknowledged

-OUT-

According to the INS terrain-tracker, I’ve reached the largest room of this compound; It was filled with rows of dusty boxes, stacked in rows. Wait… Aren’t these… Books? I thought the republic burned them all.

I had ARLA switch the 40mm revolving launcher system to chamber the white phosphorus incendiaries. As I raised the war machine's left arm, the heads up display signal fluttered, then... Shit! Why are my weapon systems overridden? I’ve lost control of the war machine.

Did… I get jammed?

“Hey.. You, in there... Were you really going to burn all of these books?”- From behind the shelves, a silhouette of the enemy combatant crept forward. I.. couldn’t maneuver or communicate back to base. Strange though,.. I was still able to interact on the live-feed through ARLA, despite the cyber-attack.

-Of course I would burn them! I will destroy your distillery, and you in it!! Unjam me, or else!!-

The enemy wearing a gas mask came out of the shadows. What the...?! The insurgent... Was a young female! I haven’t seen one in the flesh before. I only heard that girls have to live in a quarantined section of the republic, because they are sick. Why was she out? Has she escaped? This mission has become FUBAR with so many loose ends to deal with.

“You can stop barking. ARLA has been reprogrammed. She won’t let you burn the books of knowledge for the chairman.”

Wait, how?.. Nobody knows I named her that! Who... What are you?!- Mark my words, I would splatter you into the painting on the wall!

“Instead of having detachment with your multimodal system, you chose to name ‘her’... Why?”

I protested, taking the rage bait of truth.

-Fuck you! I don’t talk to traitors! If comms gets lost for longer than 180 seconds, they will detonate this machine, and this whole godforsaken place. You lose either way!!-

The insurrectionette chuckled and reassured me that ARLA is playing a mockup Recon video on loop for the audience, and they aren’t suspecting a thing.

“We can’t fool them forever, so I need you to link in, and SEE the truth. You might recognize someone in there..” - Without much consent, ARLA began to show me the enemies’ propaganda.

“-The tectonic shift of autocracy came about without any tremors, without a fight. It was as if we all woke up 22 years ago, and freedom became a luxury that was no longer obtainable.-”

Boooooooooorrrrrrriiiiiiiiinnnnnnnnnngggggg. I can’t believe ARLA betrayed me,.. I am so going to get her scrapped!

“-Instead of resisting, the majority of global citizens gave in. It was business as usual, despite the injustice all around us. We all looked away with apathetic Compliance. To not get involved, and accept the gaslighting was the only way we would survive. “They deserve what they deserve. Shouldn’t have stood out”- the citizens whispered in unison. They were relieved that at least, for this time- the decimation was not aimed at them.-”

Exactly! Rules are rules!! If you’re not contributing to the Republic, losers can’t be choosers. Get it!?

“-Yet, nobody was truly safe or free, -no matter how much we gave away in sacrifice. Chairman outstretched his greedy tentacles into all aspects of our lives. We were closely monitored by republic surveillance teams. Neighbors reported on one another with the faintest suspicion. Communication was carefully orchestrated to be superficial, with endless praises of our great leader. Anything considered sarcasm has been outlawed, and so has self expressionism… -”

..Hmm, Well, they do have a point there. Nobody has a sense of humor, and we all avoid one another. Even so, that doesn’t give these imbeciles a pass for breaking the Republic code of law!

“Tell me-” The outlaw girl took over where the propaganda video left off- “What is it your superiors tell us we do?”

Aha! You stupid savage. You don’t even know why we hunt you? Typical! It’s because you terrorize, and disrupt the system! You make up your own rules and live outside the grid!! Who will protect you, beyond the republic? The Chairman simply wants to unify us all, so that we could be safe... And Free!

“Wow. They’ve really brainwashed you good, huh? I hate to tell you, but all the bombing and terrorizing hasn’t been us, ever. That’s the republic. Your Chairman has stripped all of our rights two decades ago. How do you explain ‘freedom’ -coping in such a caged environment? Don’t you find it oxymoronic?”

That’s all you got?! You’re boring me to death with these conspiracies. Get it over with. Steal whatever you think you could out of ARLA... You will not get far. We’ll find you!!!

The enemy came closer and tapped the main camera. “-No Ben, I am not interested in War Machine. I have been searching everywhere for… YOU.”

How the Fuc..Oh.. Nonoo!...ARLA- You gave up my identity too? Being fully exposed, I am forever blacklisted. My worth points, -all that I worked for would be wiped clean.. Then the RBI will hunt me down…

“Ben- Do you know why we are here? It’s not to execute whatever doomsday scenarios they accuse us of planning. We are simply trying to preserve knowledge.”

-Uhm, Knowledge? You never installed the Republic Neuromorphic Fusion? You only have to ‘think’ of things- and you get the answer. You really must live under a rock! Pathetic.

The infidel didn’t even blink. “Who is in charge of that technology? Isn’t it the corporate leadership? You naively think they're telling you the truth? You’ve been lied to all throughout your life, Ben…”

While her stinging words saturated, she motioned over another gas-masked terrorist. This one seemed a bit more pugnacious, and she handed the blabbermouth something, square. This must be a weapon of sorts that would fry me while I’m online! I know it. I panicked to forcibly remove my console helmet while still plugged into the Haptic Suit, but the security deterrent automatically zapped me twice.

As I screamed in agony, she came up to the camera and showed me something ancient. “You see Ben- THIS is why we risked being attacked-”

I blinked to zoom in on the foreign object, and it was not a bomb, or some malware; It was just a dusty old book.

“This, is the original. There are 116 of them. All from Benjamin Franklin. Do you know who that was?”

My own inarticulateness was deafening. I haven’t even seen a book, paintings, or an actual female -until today! Oh, and to think I thought it would be just another boring mission today…

“He was a scientist, a philosopher, a statesman, an inventor… He was one of the founding fathers of America, Ben. He was also born right here in Massachusetts. This building with his name, was the very first public library in the country- You saw the sign out front, right?”

...Um...So this is not an illegal ‘Pub’?... W..W..Well, so what? Who cares about some has-been dead guy? Why care about some obsolete and highly illegal stacks of papers?

She slowly took her gas mask off, and she showed me the warmest, coquettish, dimpled smile. Seeing her, and this- unfamiliar facial expression, my heartbeat and breathing became irregular. What’s happening to me!?

Then she demystified further- “We save these books, to set us all free. Without true knowledge, we humans won’t evolve, and inevitably demolish one another in ignorance. That’s why it’s our life’s mission to preserve as many as we can… To share the truth.”

Th... These are all a bit too much to comprehend at once! I don’t know what the hell you want from me. You’re going to exploit me and make me betray the republic, aren’t you!?

She shrugged. “-If you want to do that, cool... I was actually sent by someone, well- one of many, that has been searching for her baby since escaping the republic’s forced fertility facilities.” The dimpled anarchist leaned in closer to the camera again-

“Do you want to meet your real Mother?”

Huh? But my female procreator... She’s alive? But father...He... He said she died when I was born! This... Must be one of your lies! A trap!!!

While I incoherently babbled, the harbinger continued- “C-A-R-L-A. That’s your mother’s name. You must subconsciously remember, since you partially named your neuralink system after your mom. She’s wondered about you for a long long time. What do ya say, Ben?”

I... I don’t know... I never have been given a… ‘choice’ before. I..I... Just don’t know!!

The smiling messiah reassured me that there are no traps. She just wanted safe passage to save as many books, before the republic sends reinforcements. Accepting how screwed I already was and drawn to the possibility of meeting my procre.. I mean, ... Mom… I nervously agreed.

“Good choice, Ben. Well, it’s a matter of time that your involvement gets traced, so I’m sending an intercessor now to sneak you out of Boston. Everything will work out, I promise.”

Even if these were the enemy's deceptive tactics, somehow, -I wanted to wholeheartedly believe. I actually yearned for the real connections she spoke of.

By trusting, I felt that grey sameness of being in limbo lift away.

By having faith in what comes next, I was seeing colors of hope.

I, was finally going to be free.