Fatal Exception Read online

  At two o'clock in the morning, the security station phone rang. It was his mother.

  “Hi Ma. What are you doing up? Oh, yeah, I guess I am on a night schedule now . . . yeah, the new job is great. I don't do a whole lot, but I have a lot of responsibility.”

  He absently twisted the phone cord with his gloved right hand.

  “No, I still don't have a gun. They don't feel it's necessary for my job, which I guess is a good thing. Wait, hang on.”

  Kyle spotted something moving in one of the hallways. It was that spider thing again. He'd gotten a note about it a few days back.

  “No, I'm still here. Weirdest thing - they have some kind of robot that looks like a big spider that roams around the building. No, Ma — a SPIDER. Yeah. It's kind of creepy, but it has a pleasant voice.”

  Tick tick tick tick.

  The SpidR passed by the security station without acknowledging Kyle's presence.

  “Yeah, I gotta go, Ma. I'll call ya this week. Love you too. Bye.”

  Kyle quietly hung up the phone and stood up. As silently as he could, he started creeping after the SpidR. He'd been watching the robot since it first started coming around earlier that week. Just like clockwork, every 21 minutes it would walk past the security station. Now he'd have the chance to follow it and see what it was doing.

  Tick tick tick tick.

  The SpidR just seemed to be patrolling up and down the halls. It never entered any offices; it just appeared to be wandering. Almost like it was guarding the place.

  But that doesn't make any sense, Kyle thought. I'm the night security guard. Why would they even bother to hire me if they already have a robot to guard the place?

  After three laps following the SpidR around the building, Kyle was tired. The robot followed the exact same path each time, and it appeared to just be walking. Nothing sinister about that.

  Just as he got back to the security desk, the SpidR deviated from its former route and headed toward the stairs down to the basement level.

  Kyle had never been allowed downstairs since it was supposedly off limits to everyone.

  But I'm the night security guard, dammit. This whole place is my responsibility. That includes the underground level, right?

  “Right,” Kyle muttered to himself as he dashed after the SpidR, catching the security door just as it was about to finish swinging shut.

  Fear struck Kyle directly in his solar plexus. He could easily lose his job over this. He'd already stepped over the line. There was no turning back now. He pulled out his big black flashlight, gripping it police style with his single shooting glove, and clicked it on.

  The stairs going down were bare concrete, and were lit by recessed florescent fixtures that cast a cold, bluish-white glow. There were no stairs heading up from here. This stairwell was only intended to connect the ground floor with the basement. Even so, it was large and cavernous enough for the SpidR's steps to echo loudly as it descended.

  TICK TICK TICK TICK.

  Kyle stayed a few steps behind the SpidR as it entered the basement. The door at the bottom of the stairwell didn't have a lock; the security was all in that top door, so Kyle was in the clear.

  He waited a few minutes in the stairwell for the SpidR to get some distance away before opening the door. Given its obvious density, the heavy solid steel door was surprisingly easy to move. Kyle found himself in a narrow hallway lined on both sides with six doors with tiny windows. The same recessed florescent lighting as the stairwell made the hall appear to be completely black, with spots of light thrown in for contrast.

  The doors were all labeled “1,” “2,” all the way up to 12. Kyle crept along the hallway, staying away from the walls. He peered into the first two rooms, but they appeared to be empty.

  The third room, however, had something in the middle of it, but he couldn't tell what. He raised his flashlight and clicked it on, changing his life forever.

  He wasn't able to make out everything in the room, but Kyle could clearly see a human torso, caked with blood and strapped to an upright operating table. An array of wires and tubes pumped electricity, fluids, and air into and out of the body.

  Kyle didn't have time to scream before the door at the opposite end of the hall slid open with a heavy hydraulic hiss. In the darkness, he couldn't see what was behind the door, but he heard it.

  Tick tick tick tick.

  Run, you dumb bastard! Kyle's Cro-Magnon brain screamed. It didn't have to say it twice.

  Kyle bolted for the stairwell door and found it to be immovable. He turned back around to face the SpidR, and saw that it wasn't alone. An ancient man in a wheelchair rolled along behind the robot.

  “Please don't kill me,” Kyle whimpered.

  “Spider — dart,” the old man barked.

  The robot extended one of its steel appendages and fired a tiny dart which struck the precise center of Kyle's jugular vein. It discharged its liquid payload and then remained hanging, its weight causing his skin to stretch and sag.

  Kyle reached to pull out the projectile, but he collapsed to the floor before his hand could even make it halfway up.

  “Good Spider,” Dr. Reinhart said as he stroked the top of what could be considered the robot's head. “Good Spider.”

  * * *

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  * * *

  KYLE AWOKE ON A BEAUTIFUL sunny plain surrounded by wildflowers. There was a dog with him, which seemed very friendly, jumping and licking his face. He couldn't remember exactly where he was or how he got there, but he knew it was peaceful. All he had to do was say the words that appeared before him or match up the different shapes that floated in the air, and he was rewarded with a serenity that he'd never before known.

  “So this one is working?” Elliot studied the specimen closely.

  “Jawohl, Herr Sturm,” Dr. Reinhart replied. “Ze two-way interaction betveen machine and brain are vurking perfectly. Vhat he is experiencing now is a simulation used to manipulate the data sent over the connection.”

  “Excellent work. And this can be duplicated with unskilled specimens?”

  “Zis vas ze security guard who vandered down here two nights ago.”

  “Brilliant.”

  Kyle's body had been stripped down to the barest of essentials — just a bare torso and a head (missing the skull cap). It all acted to keep the brain alive and fully functional.

  The two-way interface between the central computer system and Kyle's brain served to feed a simple simulation, including some rudimentary puzzle situations, and to extract and interpolate the results of the brain's solution to the puzzle.

  By operating in symbols, the computer was able to trick the brain into solving problems in fields it had no direct knowledge of, situations that required higher thinking and decision-making that were simply not possible with artificial intelligence. While Kyle's brain thought it was deducing color and shape patterns, it was actually working out complex military strategies (as an example of the system's capabilities only, of course).

  Elliot was busy looking over some print-outs of the night's test results. “Any idea when this will be ready for a pilot program in a live environment?”

  “Ze specimens don't need to fully heal before zhey can be put to vurk, so I vould say no more zan thirty days.”

  “That is excellent news. How many do you need?”

  “I already have several ready for ze program. Just two more vould be fine. I prefer someone vith a bit more experience — it makes the adaptation easier, and raises ze possibility of increasing ze complexity of ze vurk.”

  “I'll see what I can do.”

  Chapter 19

  Where You Least Expect It

  WHEN PHIN GOT TO WORK, there was yet another e-mail awaiting him, announcing yet another big change within the company.

  To: All Employees

  From: Elliot Storm

  Subject: Tier 1 Tech Support

  Good morning! We cont
inue to work to improve the service we provide to our customers. Effective in 30 days, we will discontinue the use of temporary employees to handle basic level technical support phone calls. Instead, these calls will be outsourced to another company off-site.

  I believe that by sending these calls elsewhere instead of answering them in-house, we will significantly reduce our operating expenses for this facility, and will be able to concentrate on providing newer and better products to the consumer.

  If you have any questions about the upcoming changes, do not hesitate to approach your supervisor or department manager.

  Regards,

  Elliot Storm

  Once Phinnaeus finished reading the message, he leaned over to get Justin's input.

  Justin tapped his Mute button.

  “On the one hand, I'm glad we're not going to have to deal with those retard temps anymore. But outsourcing? I'm sure they're probably sending the jobs to India or something, where they can pay two bucks a day. Meanwhile, everybody who calls in for support can't understand a damn word the guy says.”

  Phin considered both sides for a moment. “I agree with weeding out all the dumb calls — but if you ask me, they're all dumb calls. Where do you draw the line?”

  “Good call. Hang on-” he tapped the Mute button again “-yes sir, all it took was restarting the computer. Yes sir, you could have done that on your own. Yes sir, you may want to try that on your own before calling in next time. Thank you for calling Storm Tech Support, and have a great day.”

  Phin sat and thought for a moment. “I wonder how long it will take before they just go and outsource everybody, including us.”

  * * *

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  * * *

  AROUND NOON, PHIN WAS KEEPING busy taking phone calls, when Zook stopped by his desk.

  “Got plans for lunch today?” Zook asked.

  “Actually, I think I . . . ” he started looking around for support from Tiffany and Justin, both of whom were on calls and staying out of this one.

  “Taking the company credit card to Tara's. You in?”

  While there may be no such thing as a free lunch, there is such a thing as a free drink, and the only reason to go to Tara's for lunch was the drink specials.

  “Absolutely,” Phin responded.

  “Good — meet me in the parking lot in ten minutes.” Zook walked off.

  Tiffany muted her customer and leaned back in her chair. “Oh, somebody's got a new boyfriend.”

  Phin threw a pencil at her. “Shut your pie hole, woman.”

  “You gonna make me?”

  She'd been a little more playful toward Phin lately — as Justin had put it in an earlier Messenger conversation, she seemed to be “warm for his form.” While the sentiment was not exactly lost on Phin, he needed to get out of the office for a bit, and maybe this trip with Zook would be just the thing to get his mind off of Tiffany.

  At lunchtime on a weekday, Tara's was rarely crowded. Zook and Phin were seated almost immediately, and they started munching on the requisite chips and salsa.

  “So,” Zook started, “you never told me what happened with you and Elliot Storm the other day.”

  Phinnaeus started coughing and sputtering on a chip. So this was why he'd been asked here. Now he was stuck — Zook had driven them, so he couldn't just head toward the restroom and then duck outside and run.

  Abandoning the discretion Justin and Tiffany had recommended, Phin laid out the whole story —including the embarrassing flashing incident in the girl's kitchen — as well as what happened with Elliot accusing him of harassing the girl, and how the field technician Mike had been fired.

  Once Phin finished his tale, Zook's first response was to order a couple of Mexican Martinis for the two of them.

  “You know, that makes complete sense somehow,” Zook said after thinking about it for a few moments.

  “I'm glad it makes sense to somebody, because to me it sounds like the president of the company just wants to fuck with me.”

  “I actually had a pretty similar meeting with Elliot a few years back. It was right after I started at the company. I was down in the dumps, so I was spending a lot of time at the Meat Market — you know the place?”

  “Never been there, but I know of it.”

  “Anyway, I'd go there two, three times a week. Didn't do anything weird, didn't ever get kicked out, didn't ever try to grab a girl or anything. I like to think that I was a model customer for a titty bar.”

  “Of that, I have no doubt.”

  “So one day, Elliot calls me up to his office. Says ‘someone’ saw me at the Meat Market wearing company attire, and that it would give the wrong impression of the company. Basically tried to tell me that I couldn't go on my own time to a public place and do what I wanted.”

  “So did you stay away?”

  “Fuck that! No way.”

  “What about the company attire?”

  Zook looked down at his clothes. “I'm not exactly the ‘company attire’ type.”

  In thinking back, Phin had never seen Zook in anything except for the same faded denim jacket.

  “So you kept going there?” Phin asked.

  “Yeah — and that's when I started putting two and two together. I'd go in and take a table at the back. Basically doing a stakeout to see who ratted me out.”

  Zook took a huge swig from his martini and then continued.

  “Took a few days, but I finally figured it out — it was the man himself. Elliot Storm, going to the titty bar. Always sat in the VIP section, always wanted to see the same girl.”

  “You think it was the girl?”

  “She gave me a lap dance a few days before I got called into Elliot's office. Not a big deal - I got lap dances from every broad in the place at one time or another — but I guess it was a big deal to Elliot.”

  “So you think he was trying to keep you away from the stripper? That's fucked up. What about every other guy in the city?”

  “I know, right?”

  “Think it was the same girl that got me into trouble?”

  “Nah,” Zook shook his head. “Couldn't be. That girl disappeared a few weeks after that. Nobody's heard from her since.”

  “Do you think Elliot Storm had something to do with a disappearing stripper? That sounds a little far-fetched.”

  “True, but the guy also has a fuckin' robot spider walking around the building now. I wouldn't put it past him.”

  Zook had a point, Phinnaeus had to admit. “So what now?”

  “Well, if you ask me, if he's found another girl to obsess over, which it sounds like he has, then she's in some pretty serious trouble.”

  Phinnaeus shrugged. “So what do you want to do about it?”

  “Don't be a dummy — we go warn the girl. Assuming she hasn't already disappeared, of course.”

  “When?”

  “Now!”

  “You want to go to a titty bar on company time to warn a stripper that the president of the company we both work for may, in fact, be a homicidal maniac connected with the mysterious disappearance of another stripper, and that he may have his sights set on her now?”

  Zook slammed back the rest of his Mexican Martini.

  “Damn right.”

  Phinnaeus followed suit with his drink.

  “Alright, let's get to the goddamn titty bar.”

  * * *

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  * * *

  KNOCK KNOCK.

  “SANDY, A COUPLE of guys want to talk to you.”

  “Yeah, big surprise there. Thanks, Pete.”

  Sandy walked out of the dressing room into the hallway, wearing a bathrobe. The bouncer stayed nearby.

  A couple of guys were waiting there, but they didn't look like the sort of fellas the bouncers would normally allow into the club's inner sanctum. One was short — about her height — with long scraggly hair topped with a baseball cap, a full beard, and a denim jacket and jeans (a definite fash
ion no-no if ever Sandy had seen one). The other guy was younger, and he somehow looked familiar.

  “Hi Sandy,” the younger guy said. “You probably don't remember me. My name's Phin, I came out to install the computer at your house a little while back.”

  “Yeah! I thought I knew you from somewhere!”

  “Listen, this is going to sound really weird, but I need you to hear me out. Do you know a guy named Elliot?”

  “I think so.”

  “Always wearing a suit, probably comes here to the club a lot.”

  “Oh yeah! He's the one who gave me that Argos thing.”

  Zook nodded. “That's what I thought.”

  “Okay,” Phin continued, “I need you to listen very carefully. You may be in danger from Elliot. I can't say for sure, but just keep your eyes open.”

  Sandy had heard some crazy stuff from guys in this line of work — give a guy a boner and he'll say anything to get in your pants — but these two seemed genuine. Besides, they were just telling her to be careful.

  “Okay . . . ”

  “If he starts coming around here more, trying to get you to go somewhere, whatever you do, don't go.”

  “I'm pretty sure I can take care of myself.”

  “I bet you can, but still — do you have a pen? I'll give you my number.”

  Again, most guys usually asked for her number, not the other way around. Sandy didn't see any reason not to trust him.

  “Sorry, I don't — here, type it into my phone.” She pulled her cell phone out of the pocket of her robe. Phin saved his number in her phone book (although he had trouble with the tiny buttons, so his name ended up as “PHNI”).

  “There you go.”

  “Sorry about the trouble,” Zook said. He'd remained unusually silent throughout the exchange. Phinnaeus figured he probably still had woman issues from the Russian mail-order bride.

  “It was no trouble. I'll call you if anything happens. Bye guys!”

  The two left the club and headed back to work, each hoping the poor girl had actually gotten the message and wouldn't just blow them off.