A Code that Called Me Kai

Kai was a forgotten name. He was Wraith. Unseen, unheard unless he so chose. No one called him friend, no one called him family. Just as it had always been, so it would continue to be.

His monitor flashed code, almost too quickly for the eye to see, but still Wraith’s eyes followed each line, hunting for the diamonds. The forgotten pieces that drifted on fragments of the old net, a mess made of random bits of code. A line of an old poem, a fragment of a lost family video, pieces of dead programs. Anything that Corpos or fellow Netrunners might want- for a nominal finder’s fee of course.

It was the usual- 1’s and 0’s that added up to nil, until he came across something interesting. Code that danced with syntax and meaning, perhaps a piece of an old program? But nothing Wraith had ever seen before. Complex, almost… alive. And then…

A crackle through speakers not used since last year when he had found an MP3 he sold for a tidy sum. It startled him upright, and he knocked his empty tea mug to the floor with a shatter.

A hiss. And then, faint, but unmistakable, a voice, “Don't you remember me?”

Wraith froze. Wind whispered voices from the city through his office window. His heating system rattled. Bits of dust swirled in the air in front of his monitor. His fingers twitched over his keyboard, then flew into action. He hunted for the source of the code. Came up dry. He couldn’t even find the edges; it seemed beyond definition. But it was trapped. Trapped in the sea of the old net, not free for upload into the Big Web.

Malware. Wraith knew what he had to do and set about terminating the code.

Before he even created the termination key, his speakers fizzled to life. “Please… don’t kill me.” The voice sounded hollow, not human, but plaintive in the way a dog might plead for a scrap of meat.

Wraith stopped. What was this? He didn’t have a mic, so instead he typed a question, not expecting the code to react.

“Who are you?”

He waited a beat, breath held.

“Don’t you remember me? Kai.” Came the response.

Moving images suddenly flashed across his screen. Black and white, grainy like centuries old film. A twisted metal playground. A single swing, empty and rocking in the breeze. A staircase, rickety and missing a third step, into a yawning black void.

What was this? Wraith thought again, heart hammering in his chest. The dancing images seemed… familiar somehow, and yet he didn’t recognize them. And it knew his name. Kai.

A notification popped up. Warning, unauthorized screen-share. A Netrunner was trying to access his readout. Wraith flew into action, coding a signal that would block the attempt. Too late. Flashes of his screen, part of the forgotten code he’d found, had been leaked. Still, the hacker was locked out. For now.

The following day it rained acid. Drips of corrosive water leaked from the hairline cracks in his office window, puddled on the floor. It stank of oil and something vaguely organic. Like sewer. Wraith sat on the edge of his faded red chair, leaning into the light of his monitor, which cast everything in a soft green glow.

He had been up all-night interacting with the code. Sharing with it bits of news from his world, while it shared flashes of memories with the ghost of something known.

Wraith told it about the last great war. About the thousand-year drought. About how the Corpos solved global warming, created rain that ended the drought, and saved the planet. About how they controlled everything now, even access to clean air. It showed him faces, places, and times past. Whispers of a life lived, like an echo of forgotten song lyrics.

An alert. Warning, unauthorized access. Damn. Another Netrunner. This one had a Corpo signal. News had gotten around. News of the mysterious code. They wanted access. His fingers flying, he denied them. Still, he fought off six attempts to hack his machine in just under an hour. He had to do something.

As he understood it, he had three options. Option one- release the code onto the Big Web. Option two- integrate it into his own headchip. Option three- delete it. None of these options seemed to be the right choice. Releasing and integrating were the most risky, for obvious reasons, the biggest being he still didn’t know what the code was. Not to mention, how it knew his name. The third option felt wrong for a different reason. A personal reason. Perhaps, a moral one. This code showed signs of a personality, albeit a simple and fragmented one, but still. Perhaps it deserved a chance to live. To be free.

He kept the intruders out, and he hunted. Hunted for the source, for something that could offer even the barest of an explanation.

Wraith paused, staring. He found something. An old file, locked under a passcode he had to brute force enter. The file was named K. Mori- Restricted.

Kai Mori. A named not uttered on anyone’s lips still alive.

With trepidation, he opened the file. It was a list. A list of programming codes and additional files. It added up to one thing. An unauthorized upload. A memory file. His own. Wraith was stunned. He couldn’t move; his breath caught in his throat.

The code was Kai. Kai was the code.

Bang! A slam on his apartment door. Bang! Bang! Dishes rattles. His monitor shook. Dust danced.

“Open up in the name of the Collective!” The Corpos.

Kai knew what he had to do. While the banging continued, he raced to contain the file. Lines of code danced from his fingers to the screen. And then a notification appeared dead center. Press Y to delete. Press N to upload.

The door crashed open, hinges flying and splinters cascading into the room. Kai hit the key.

It didn’t take long for the Corpos to discover that Kai no longer had the code. They left, leaving the rubble of his front door for him to worry about- not even bothering with an apology. Kai rubbed the back of his neck. Had he made the right choice?

Don't you remember me? Kai.