The rogue code, p.1
The Rogue Code, page 1
The Rogue Code
Terry Marchion
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Epilogue
About the Author
Dear Reader
The Missing Yesterdays
The Purloined Pictograph
The Wrath of the Revenant
The Misplaced Mentor
Acknowledgments
The Rogue Code Copyright © 2020 by Terry Marchion. All Rights Reserved.
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1
T
remain reached forward and twisted a dial on the dashboard before him. A rush of cool air filled the cabin of his rented autonomous car.
He was returning from a vacation. That phrase and his name were usually not combined, and he chuckled to himself at the silliness of it all.
It’s not that his vacation wasn’t deserved, or welcome. After the events of the past few years, he needed some time off. Time to re-adjust and re-assess his life.
So, he’d gone to the beach.
The beach south of the city.
The beach near the gulf which always received plenty of hot sun and tropical breezes.
The beach just everyone wanted to visit. It would be crowded, yes, but the time off would do him good.
Well, it would have been better had the locals not insisted on pronouncing ‘New Earth’ as ‘N’earth’, slurring the two words like they had never been separate in the first place. He gritted his teeth every time he heard it uttered. In the interest of his vacation, however, he did his best to ignore that offense to his ears and the spoken language, and tried to enjoy himself.
He relaxed as he sat in the sun, sipping cold beverages, letting the cares of the world drift away. At one point, he fancied that he could actually feel his worries burn away…
No, that was sunburn.
Ouch.
A day of staying out of said sun and lathering up in burn cream seemed to help, but soon it was time to leave. The Colony Days celebration was to start in the next few days and Tremain had a seat for a symposium on a subject he was greatly interested in; Society and how it changes with Technology, or something like that, he couldn’t quite remember.
He also had a television interview set up. He couldn’t quite remember when that was, but Solomon, the resident AI, should have that saved somewhere. Near photographic memory only works when one actually wants to remember something.
He stretched in the roomy cab of the driver-less car, hearing the soft creak of the leather seat as he shifted, soft music playing over the whine of the electric engine. The cab, bathed in a blue-green glow from the heads-up display being projected onto the windshield, now sat at a comfortable 72 degrees. The display, impressive in these newer models, showed rate of speed, outside weather, a small GPS map of the route back to Capitol City, with options for news headlines, music selections, etc., all without impeding the view out the windshield.
Plus, he thought, it still had that new-car smell about it.
All-in-all, a luxurious ride.
The monotony of sitting and riding, coupled with the hypnotizing motion of the white lines in the roadway, lulled Tremain into drowsiness.
In his slumber, he dreamed he was back in the valley of the Mayflower people, watching the water as it spewed through the opening in the mountain, the same river which had carved out the entire valley thousands of years ago. He sat in peace, the only person around, except for a bird that seemed to be perched right near his ear, chirping.
Chirp.
Chirp.
Beep.
Beep.
Beep.
BEEP.
Waking up, he realized the incessant noise didn’t come from a bird, but an alarm from the navigation system. Sitting up straighter, and reluctantly opening his eyes, he glared at the dash. The entire on-screen display flashed red, not a good sign at all, with one message blinking in his direct line of sight: Signal lost, please engage manual mode.
Signal lost?
Signal…
Lost…?
Was that even possible?
How does one even engage manual mode?
Manual mode!
The car slowed as the auto systems disengaged. Tremain noticed a flashing dotted line leading from the message on screen, down the center of the dashboard, around the entertainment controls, to a flashing button upon which the words ‘manual override’ were prominently printed. Offering up a silent prayer to whatever Gods existed, or whichever ones cared to listen for that matter, he pressed it.
Two pedals raised from the floor in front of him as the dash opened to reveal an emerging steering wheel and column. Tremain grasped the wheel and stamped on the accelerator. The car shot forward.
A million questions ran through his mind, ranging from how did humanity ever exist without driver-less vehicles, to how in the world could all the satellites lose signal at once?
He over-corrected as he swerved to miss another car that had turned into his lane, the driver frantic in his attempts to control his own vehicle. Looking beyond his immediate surroundings, he noticed other cars doing the same thing; swerving to miss collisions.
So, it wasn’t just his car that had lost signal.
He didn’t have much time to dwell on it as he swerved to avoid a container truck full of chickens (as indicated by the verbiage on the side, and the frightened clucking coming from within, not to mention the flurry of feathers pouring from the rear). Tremain over-corrected again, spinning into the median between opposing lanes, before re-correcting and getting back on track.
Deep breaths.
Gripping the steering wheel tighter, he stamped the accelerator once more and shot forward, passing a sign which indicated Memorial Bridge just ahead, meaning Capitol City lay just a few miles away.
If the autonomous system had failed, that could only mean the satellite network had failed.
Impossible!
He, himself, had made sure there were redundancies and safety precautions built in to ensure a signal would never fail. And it hadn’t, well, until now. He’d need to have Solomon look into this, but first he needed to survive the remainder of his drive.
He hit the override button once more, switching back to driver-less mode, to see if the signal had been recovered. The alarm sounded again and the entire dash and display flashed red.
Okay, then, manual it is, he thought as the red glow became a blue-green shimmer again.
Tightening his grip on the steering wheel, he accelerated into a curve, which brought him in view of the bridge.
The welcome sprawl of Capitol City appeared before him, beyond the bridge. It was a lovely sight to his eyes, knowing he was so close to home. In a split second he noticed the vehicles down below haphazard in their motion, not the smooth flow of traffic he was used to seeing.
A flash of red snapped his focus back to the road ahead.
His slammed both feet on the brakes as he avoided yet another car, and came screeching to a halt just inches before slamming into the wall of stopped cars that he met as he drove onto the bridge.
The driver of the car behind him and to the right had slower reflexes. He heard the screech of tires, then the sickening crunch as it struck his car. Tremain jerked to his right, the seatbelt straining to hold his weight.
His car swung around a full 180 degrees, slamming into the guard rail on the edge of the span. In direct contradiction to its intended purpose, the guardrail snapped off and spun into the air as his car’s momentum pushed through. His teeth chattered as the right two wheels slid off the roadway, feeling as well as hearing the screech of protesting metal on pavement. He gasped as he felt the car teeter.
Another car smashed into his, pushed by another collision.
There was nothing he could do.
The car slid, scraped over the edge, and fell.
Tremain had only time for one thought as he felt himself go weightless for a moment.
He scrambled for his tablet, which currently sat rolled up in his pocket.
Unfurling it, he pushed the first icon he saw.
Just as treetops crashed through the back windscreen, a coruscating light filled the cabin.
Tremain didn’t hear the sickening crunch of the car’s impact as he found himself face up on the lab floor, hanging half out of his matter transmitter. He breathed a sigh of relief, stood, and began brushing himself off.
“Uncl e Tremain!” He heard as Christopher rushed to him.
“I’m fine, Christopher,” he said as he waved his nephew off, “although I’ll have some explaining to do to the rental company.”
“What happened?”
“I’d like to know that myself. Solomon?”
“Welcome back, Tremain,” the voice of the AI emanated from the speakers built into the lab walls, “I trust your vacation was relaxing?”
“It was. The ride home, however, we can say with absolute certainty was something else. Can you tell me what happened to the autonomous vehicle system?”
“It is offline.”
Tremain rolled his eyes.
“Thank you. It’s a wonder I hadn’t noticed. Since when did snark enter your programming?”
“Humor is one way humans converse with each other, I have endeavored to make myself more humorous.”
“In normal circumstances, I would agree with that, but we will need to have a conversation about appropriateness, don’t you think?”
“Noted.”
“Now, what in hell happened with the AVS?”
“I cannot access any of the systems as they are currently down. I will continue to try.”
“Please do,” Tremain turned to Christopher, “the car just lost the satellite signal. Lost it!”
“Is that even possible?” Christopher asked.
“Yesterday I would have laughed at the idea, but something obviously happened to it.”
The lab doors slammed open. Senator Markus stormed in, panic written all over his face.
“Tremain! Thank the Gods, you’re back,” Markus held his hands to his chest and took several deep breaths. “The AVS system has crashed!”
“I’m well aware of that.”
Markus took a seat and wrung his hands together. He snapped his eyes to his friend as a sudden thought hit him.
“Did you just get back?” he asked.
Tremain’s thin smile showed the strain he had just endured.
“Yes. Just. Like a few seconds ago.”
Markus frowned, nodded, and resumed his hand-wringing.
“Oh, this is the worst disaster in Colony history! And just as Colony Days is starting!”
“How bad is it?” Tremain asked gently.
“Initial reports have us at hundreds injured, but thankfully, only one death so far. A car tumbled off Memorial Bridge just a short while ago. Poor chap. I hope he didn’t suffer.”
Tremain cleared his throat and raised his hand.
“That chap was me. Thanks to my transmitter, I’m here instead of impaled on a tree.”
“Ah, yes, well,” Markus looked at Tremain, his eyes wide, “Quite fortunate, that. Looks like you got some sun.”
Tremain clapped his hands together.
“Well, I have Solomon looking into the cause of the failure, so we can make sure it never happens again,” he paused, and looked sideways at Markus, “wait, you said Colony Days is starting? I thought it started tomorrow …”
“Nope,” Christopher spoke up, glancing up from his tablet, “the symposium you wanted to see is tonight. Celeste and I are going too, we get extra credit if we write up a summary for social studies class.”
“That’s tonight?” Tremain moaned, and spread his hands in frustration, “All my appropriate clothes were in that car, I have nothing to wear!”
Christopher shook his head and smiled.
“I’m sure my dad has something you can wear for now, we can go shopping for you tomorrow.”
“I’m sure your father has lots of things in his closet, but also remember your father favored the dreaded jumpsuit era of the early colonists,” Tremain rolled his eyes and gave a mock shudder, “There’s more burnt orange in that man’s wardrobe than should be legally allowed, so I don’t quite trust your father’s dress sense.” He grimaced once more at the thought and then threw a wink at his nephew, “I’ll just have to dust off that old suit I have sitting around and meet you later.” He paused and considered something. “Extra credit you say? Like you need it.”
“Well, when Lyda Stryker gives a talk, they want to make sure we’re paying attention.”
Markus turned to Christopher, the question clear on his face.
“Lyda Stryker runs the biggest tech company in the colonies,” Christopher said as he held up his smart tablet, now firmly wrapped around his wrist, “we wouldn’t have the fun things we have today if not for her work, plus almost everyone uses her apps, from security to games. I’ve just downloaded her new productivity game, it’s pretty cool.”
“Oh, I know who she is,” Markus protested, “I just rarely use my tablet. Guess that makes me out of touch.”
“No, Markus,” Tremain interjected, putting an arm around his friend’s shoulder, “that just makes you a busy senator. I’m sure you’ll get around to playing games.”
Markus stood, a resigned look on his face.
“Well, I have to face the news media now. I’m sure they’re swarming all over the senatorial offices, looking for whatever story they can dig up.”
“Go on, then. Charm them as usual.”
“I have no idea how I’m going to present the news, this is tragic.”
“Off like a bandage, I always say,” Tremain joked, “Give them the bad news and say we’re working on the cause. Then mutter ‘no comment’ when they want more details,” Tremain laughed, “I should have been a senator, no, check that, I’d be bored silly.”
Markus gave a sad grin, shook his head, waved, and left the lab.
Desmond shuffled over to Christopher, leaning on his ever-present broom.
“Go on yourselves, get ready for your fancy talk. I’ll lock it all up here.” He turned his sharp gaze to Tremain, “Think we’ve all had enough excitement for one day?”
Tremain clapped his hands together and nodded.
“Yes, I believe I agree with that sentiment.”
Christopher grabbed his backpack and left. Tremain stayed behind, staring at his transmitter.
“What’s on your mind?” Desmond asked.
“This talk tonight: Technology and its effect on Society, or whatever they’ve called it. I have my own technology to thank for saving my life today. I’d say that’s a pretty good record to run on, don’t you?”
Desmond looked at his long-time coworker and friend.
“Yeah, but you’d still make a horrible senator.” He laughed, “Oh, before I forget, some kid has been calling. Third time today … he keeps saying he has something important he needs to talk to you about, but didn’t leave a number or any way to get back to him.” Desmond scratched his head, “sounded serious.”
“If he follows his apparent pattern, I’m sure he’ll call back. I suppose I should hear what he has to say, even if it is a prank.”
Desmond acknowledged with a nod, and went about shutting things down for the night.
Tremain watched his friend for a moment, then smiled, put his hands in his pockets, and left the lab.
2
T
he light breeze drifted over Christopher and Celeste as they walked, hand in hand, to the University Auditorium.
“I hope you don’t get bored by this.” Christopher said as they rounded a corner. The auditorium was in sight now, only a few blocks further.
“I won’t,” Celeste answered as she gave his hand a squeeze, “I’ll have you there.”
Christopher grinned.
“Besides, it’s always good to feed our heads. Or as Uncle Tremain likes to call it, our ‘big squishy thing’.”
Celeste laughed.
“What?” She stopped and put her hands to her mouth, “Why does he call a brain that?”
“You haven’t heard his theory of evolution, have you?”
