Psycho Electric: A Spinward Fringe Novel

by Randolph Lalonde

Genres: Cyberpunk; Dystopian

Synopsis

Rafe became a cyborg when his aunt sold his body to pay her debt. Left only with his human head and a rough, industrial cyborg body, he is on the run from his master. We find Rafe in the megacity of New Udalpur, where he's been able to hide amongst a massive population that's more interested in social media, earning platinum, or trying to visit Earth to pay much attention to him.

Thanks to a daring caper, his curiosity, and a little heroism, Rafe is about to be in more trouble than he can handle. Strap in for an adventure that includes a bossy unofficial superintendent, shapeshifters, trips through full-dive virtual reality deathmatches, rude but colourful gangsters, social media influencers, spaceships, a wasteland, a ruthless Captain, irate pedestrians and so much more.

 

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Release date: May 21, 2022

Publisher: Randolph Lalonde

Print pages: 372

Sample

1

Next to Earth

---

The sky was sick. Rain that reeked of sulphur and rot spattered against the glistening sidewalk. The grit covering the dark grey paving tile under foot was being washed away, revealing dark swirls of things that were burned before they could cool and harden in the semi-transparent paving stones. There was a shape between Rafe’s feet. From one angle it looked like a flower. From another it was a face. Eyes closed, lips parted, it reminded him of someone who was looking forward to an unveiling.

The rare dawn light, golden through the cool drops, gave him pause as he considered what he was about to do, where he was about to send his mind. It was only the second time he’d seen the beautiful quality of that illumination. As for the crime, well, he’d broken into many places, there was nothing novel about that. A cart passed the alley opening to his right, the smell of dosa pancakes followed it, even though the cooktop and containers were covered. The memory of eating such exciting food was faint, but fresh enough to make him smile a little.

The owner of the cart and other pedestrians paid him no mind. When they did notice him, they turned away quickly, pretending that they didn’t see him, which suited Rafe. He moved further down the alley, minding the defect in his mechanical knee, which gave him a limp when it got wet. Another thing I’ll get fixed when I get paid, he thought to himself.

The dawn-shaded light took on its regular grey hue. It’s almost time. Squatting in the alley against the wall, Rafe pulled the worn, half millimetre thick warmer blanket from his pocket and wrapped it around himself. He felt like hiding. The void suit he wore covered his cybernetic limbs and his vital case torso well enough, but the right arm was left bare and there were holes in the material stretched over his left leg. He neglected to patch them, an airtight seal wasn’t necessary. Only his head was vulnerable to the weather in the city. Rafe still wished he could afford a jacket and gloves to cover the bare metal limbs. His face still looked human, and he was one of the lucky cyborgs who could still grow hair, but the rest of him looked like it was put together in some robotic junk shop, made to have the shape of a human, but only so he could use the same equipment and wear most of the same protection as one.

He pulled his blanket around himself so it formed a deep hood for his head to hide in then activated it. Warm, dry air stirred, and he sighed, enjoying the sensation of it on his ragged, drenched hair and skin. His throat was scratchy again, with a dull hurt where the flesh he was born with was joined with the synthetic system that connected it to the organs in the upper half of the vital case, his torso. The discomfort was another reminder that he wasn’t put together by caring hands.

He tapped the back of his hand, bringing up a small, low resolution hologram that showed him his location - New Udalpur, the time - 06:58am, the regional alert level - Green, how much credit he had with the British Icon Bank - 9.50 Platinum Credits, and where the nearest high speed Maglon Enterprise Stellarnet wireless connection point was. It was three metres above him. The seconds passed, slowly rolling to seven in the morning local time. His teeth chattered. He pulled a Forma Nutrient Pellet from his chest pocket and popped it into his mouth. The little human flesh he had seemed to take forever to warm up sometimes, and chewing the rubbery, vanilla flavoured cube made his teeth stop misbehaving while the blanket did its work.

He knew people passing by in the busy market street would see a figure in the dark, steam rising from a thin blanket, but no one would bother Rafe. His kind wasn't common in New Udalpur, and the heat blanket was a dead giveaway that there was a cyborg huddling there. He considered the city he was hiding in. New Udalpur was the first mega city founded by a human on a planet other than Earth. As the colonists began to build it billions were starving and dying on Earth. The colonists’ plan to resettle light years away started as the ecosystem was collapsing, and they left just in time to avoid getting stuck in a full-on nuclear war. Nearly a millennium later, the state of New Udalpur demonstrated that humanity, for the most part, hadn’t learned a thing.

The population clung to the great city for the money they could make there, the level of technology competing companies could sell anyone with the platinum or credit, and the promise of unparalleled luxury. There were parts of the planet that were still eden-like, surrounded by conditioning systems that kept them pristine and serene. Then there were the ones who came to wait for the Sol System to reopen. They clogged the Stellarnet with appeal after appeal for Humankind’s home system to allow visitors and immigrants again. A year ago, they would be greeted with a bureaucratic wall that forced them to fill out numerous applications and take even more tests. That ended, and was replaced with a warning; All vessels approaching the Sol System will be destroyed. No entry is permitted.

Few people knew why, some tried anyway and were never heard from again, and Rafe didn’t much care. He stayed in New Udalpur because there were twenty-eight million people there, and the Matrix access points allowed people like him to create as many fake accounts as he wanted. He could hide amongst the physical and digital mass of people, and remain perfectly anonymous.

Finally warm, Rafe set the blanket to maintain thirty-five percent humidity and twenty-one degrees celsius. It was seven o’clock. The Maglon Enterprises Servers were resetting their New Udalpur Cyberscape. They were one of many companies that hosted millions of employees who went to work and spent their leisure time in a simulated world. Every three months it reset, clearing all the junk from temporary memory so it could start up fresh, nearly bug free.

The honking of a hover car at the end of the alley drew his attention for a moment. It nearly struck a pair of pedestrians who were crossing. They were laughing, sharing an umbrella. The young woman’s expression drained of mirth as she noticed him. The pair walked on as he focused on the task at hand. For the last time, he considered the risks and rewards.

I will be using, probably burning, access codes and programs written specifically for this kind of hack. I won’t have access to this facility after I use the ident I’ve stolen, and the chances of getting a new one that’ll work in this plant will be next to zero. On the other hand, I’ll be helping a crew get their people back from a place that uses humans as processing nodes. I’ll have an opportunity to set the whole company back a couple years on my way out, too. I could get caught. They could hook me up and use my brain as processing power until my personality and memories are overwritten and I’m gone forever. He remembered finding his father in just such a state after he’d been jacked in for two years, three months and two days. His body was alive, but there was nothing left of Mark Loden. Here I come, he thought with determination.

With a few gestures he set the sensors seamlessly integrated into his shoulders, hands and feet to watch for anyone who intended to interfere with him. Rafe would be disconnected from the Matrix if they picked anything up. He shrugged deeper into the blanket and closed his eyes.

 

2

Maglon Local Simulation

---

The connection to Maglon Enterprise’s servers hovered in the centre of Rafe’s mind’s eye as a slowly rotating ME and he activated it. A small computer installed into his head made to compensate for a brain injury that rendered his short-term memory non-existent provided him with an edge.

The necessary cybernetic implant hid something that was far from legal in most places; a direct neural data connection that was so deep that his reaction times were instinctive. Sure, plenty of people had neural data ports, but they were surface mounted, minimally invasive implants. They gave the user faster reaction times and allowed them to experience virtual constructs as though they were real. It was the ultimate legal full-body experience.

That was, unless you considered Rafe’s situation. His implant provided a broader, deeper connectivity that made his experience perfectly vivid. People who didn’t have his short term memory defect sometimes got a similar implant installed so they could react at speeds that paralleled the human nervous system, sometimes even surpassing it thanks to co-processors, of which Rafe had three. If he didn’t have a medical need for his system, he would have to hide the tech implanted in his brain.

Rafe’s avatar appeared above New Udalpur, drifting amongst the clouds, looking down on it. The sun was out, the rain was gone, and the solar panels that normally dropped the population below into shadow were tilted up so they looked more like fins on tower tops than solar collectors. In this simulation, you could walk through the city in sunlight, unlike the real world, where the panels stole the light when the skies were free of rain. The system told him that the servers were still resetting. There were millions of people hovering above, counting the seconds until they could log back in. There were countless other servers providing private and interconnected virtual worlds. They provided workspaces, worlds for games, spectator spaces that made you feel like you were really attending concerts and sporting events, and every other kind of place where you could experience something like you were really there.

One of the most common and crucial services the Maglon Enterprise servers provided was secure virtual workspace. They had so many, that they used the real city of New Udalpur as the template, which suited them well, since most of their clients were located there and had office space in the actual city.

New Udalpur overwhelmed a continent, and in this version of it he could see the buildings, the streets, and the black water surrounding it clearly. There was no digital smog or cold rain to obscure the clutter of tall structures. Like a forest of trees that had forgotten their branches and leaves, the buildings had grown up in every elongated shape imaginable, some stretching above the rest to peek through the clouds.

One side of the continent didn’t exist in the real world. It was host to the stranger, more severe looking structures that represented destinations that were off world but hosted by Maglon. The buildings stuck up like blades, spikes and rods with landing platforms and built in hangars. Many of their designs were based on structures that existed somewhere, and he had his eye on the Ogden Processing Incorporated building.

It was the newest building on the continent, representing a place that existed sixty-three light years away. If it weren’t for a new advancement in technology and the distribution of nodes made by Haven Technologies that made zero latency communication possible over such distances, he wouldn’t have been able to reach that far with his mind.

A warning from his proximity sensors prompted him to open his flesh-and-blood eyes. It was all right, everyone was still waiting to log in, keeping his connection open to the virtual world while watching the alley was near effortless. A thin, blonde young man was approaching, regarding him with an expression of sympathy. The rain struck his personal energy shield, sparking and popping quietly. Light from the hover cars on the street behind him turned that energy field into a kind of red halo.

The young man brought a tall disposable cup to his lips, finished the hot drink, then carefully put it at Rafe’s feet. “I can see you’re far away. Maybe you can get something to eat when you come back,” he said, flipping his perfectly cut hair over his shoulder as he dropped several platinum pips into the cup. “Don’t get old out here while you’re living in the Cyberscape,” he said before turning away.

Maybe Rafe did look old to the young man, who couldn’t have been more than twenty. His hair was darker, longer, and it hung in his face. He was also dirtier, and his clothes were a mess. In truth, they were roughly the same age, but there was no time to correct that misconception, so Rafe said; “Thanks.” It came out flat and mechanical, a side-effect of splitting his attention.

When the boy was gone, Rafe pocketed the five platinum and tossed the cup further down the alley. It startled a pair of thin, grey furred rim weasels who started fighting over it an instant later. The last thing he needed was people coming by, dropping tokens and pips in a cup when he was on a job that would pay tens of thousands. Real platinum for real work. He closed his eyes and concentrated on the Cyberscape.

Most crackers would have to check their inventory at that point. They’d make sure they had all the weapons, armour and tools that represented various commands and hopefully simulation-bending actions they could take in the virtual world. Then they’d check the security surrounding them so they could be sure the system couldn’t see that they were trying to smuggle illegal programs and items in with them.

Rafe didn’t bother. He’d checked all that more times than he could count. He even ran several programs that showed him what he would look like to other users. He was using the identity he’d stolen days before. The stolen avatar was one point eight metres tall with brown hair. A casual looking human male who looked perfectly unassuming.

The most important thing about the reprogramming he’d done to the avatar was that it was nearly impossible for any system to see anything that it was carrying. If someone scanned him, they’d detect the normal stuff - casual clothes, a defensive weapon, some anti-virus shielding along with a few harmless gadgets - but there would be no hint of anything illegal.

The drives and secondary computer that most people who spent a lot of time in the matrix called their ‘cores,’ where they kept all their programs, or ‘tools,’ was built into Rafe’s chest. The small system was under a layer of armour, and connected to his brain using the synthetic nervous system that tied into his vagus nerve. It was one of the few things he installed himself. The implant was the only thing he’d ever stolen in the physical world other than his freedom.

The sensations of Rafe’s physical body were gone again as he drifted, looking down on New Udalpur. It felt good to be in a Cyberscape. He was stuck there, in the local Matrix.

“Hey, you make time in Local Friend Chat with me?” asked a male voice from his left. “I have Happy Hookah, we share. Party time.”

That was a scam. It was going around. Users would hang out in a logon or waiting room like the one they were in and try to entice as many people as they could to follow them into a virtual hookah den. The Happy Hookah was a legitimate direct neural experience program. Players in the Cyberscape bought them for their friends so they could share a euphoric experience.

Most people couldn’t afford the Happy Hookah on their own, so groups chipped in. If someone won one in a game, or earned one by questing for a couple dozen hours, they usually sold it or held onto it until they could get all their best friends together. No one ran around offering random people a puff on that virtual hookah just because they were just in the mood.

Somehow scammers like the guy who approached Rafe often suckered half a dozen people at a time into joining them in a private virtual room. When they connected to the fake Happy Hookah program, the scammer could bypass their security and steal their currency along with anything in their inventory. They could even use a Hit Program that could burn their neural connection out, sometimes causing brain damage.

If Rafe didn’t have anything better to do, he would lure the scammer onto neutral ground, or a place in a simulated world like the New Dream Universe, where he could waste him and take everything he could from the corpse before it disappeared. Instead he replied; “Gotta work. Got debt with Order of Eden, decades worth.”

“Oh, you cool, no worries, bye,” the scammer said in a sympathetic voice.

“Hey, there are a lot of honest ways to earn plat here. You don’t have to burn people for their stuff. Just do some comms work or something, you know, help people for tokens. You’ll make good money.” It never really worked, telling these scammers that there was a better way, but Rafe always tried when he had the chance.

“No worries, bye,” the voice repeated irritably.

It irked Rafe. If he saw the scammer again, he wouldn’t be as kind. It would have been a good day if he could burn his core out with a virus and take all his shit.

There was a feeling then, a unique kind of eagerness that radiated upwards from the city. It was a signal to the users, telling them that the server would be online in seconds.

The city’s lights came on. Rafe appeared in a spartan, clean one bedroom apartment. It belonged to the ident that he’d hacked, and wasn’t the cheapest housing available, but didn’t provide enough space for the user to stash all their gear for work and personal avatars. He opened the only closet, found a row of identical brown leather briefcases and a variety of safety jumpsuits, most of them white with a couple red ones on the end. He called a shuttle and quickly dressed in a white one. Okay, so I was right; this guy definitely doesn’t pay extra to have a leisure avatar in this simulation. Smart. I just hope he isn’t gaming somewhere else with a few coworkers. They might notice that his work avatar is busy while he’s actually somewhere else.

The shuttle arrived and Rafe walked through the doors, suitcase in hand, featureless white jumpsuit catching the light. He stepped into the small ship, sat down, and he was on his way to work.

The identification he borrowed belonged to Ivan Humperdink, an employee who was stupid enough to fall for his trap. He’d run his own scam, only his victim wouldn’t know that his identity was stolen for a few hours.

The small ship flew into the hangar after a simulated transit time of fifteen seconds. The trip would have been much longer in the real world. Sections of the floor illuminated, directing the shuttle to its spot near the interior doors. A security guard dressed in silver plate armour met Rafe at the shuttle hatch. “Identify yourself and tell me your password.”

“I am Ivan Humperdink,” he replied slowly and clearly. “Shine on the borderlands.”

“Proceed. Welcome to the Gaia Three Submatrix,” the guard said with plastic pleasantness as he stepped aside.

That was the first real test. Rafe only glimpsed over his shoulder long enough to see that no one else managed to make it in as early as he did. He had all the same privileges and permissions as the real Ivan Humperdink, who only showed up to his workplace in person a couple times a month. He pressed the button in the lift that would take him to the most secure area of the building; Biocore Processing.

 

3

Iam Ivan Humperdink… sort of…

---

“You in, Vagabond?” asked a voice in Rafe’s head. It was the client. He was using the handle Rafe’s fixer gave him. It was nice to deal with someone who understood that real names could be deadly even when you were using a neural comm connection. No matter how hard you tried to hide, there was always a chance someone was listening in.

Rafe ran a check on the connection and saw that, as far as he could tell, it was secure. Moving through the halls of Ogden Processing’s building as fast as he could without triggering an alert, he replied. “I’m in. This simulation will freak out if I force it to let me move at my real speed. I’ve got to obey the laws of the program. You know; walk like a human in a hurry, which is just a little slow for me. Otherwise I’d be checking for your people already.”

“Wait, you’re not just in, but you’re past the security? You’re getting close to Biocore Processing?” Frontman asked.

“Yeah, where’d you think I’d be?”

“You’ve been in there for forty-two seconds, man. I thought you’d be arriving, not eighty-four storeys up, about to get to the Biocore. Slow down, take your time, we just made atmosphere,” Frontman replied with a chuckle. He and his crew were really in Gaia Three airspace, making their way to the actual Ogden Processing Building there.

“You guys are making sure that you do your security checks so the building doesn’t open fire on you as soon as you get in range, right?” Rafe asked.

“Yeah, yeah, in a few seconds. Angel is getting to the login screen now,” Frontman replied. Rafe didn’t spend much time vetting them. His fixer did that, and he was starting to trust her. Besides, it was easy to see that her clients were pretty straight laced people most of the time.

Frontman was really named John Fuller. Angel was his wife, Prudence Fuller, and they used to work for Pandem Security Services. Neither of them had a criminal record until the galaxy was shaken by a virus that rendered every artificial intelligence dangerous or extremely expensive to own. Their records after the fall of Pandem were spotty at best, and Rafe was certain that they had to do some things they weren’t proud of in order to survive over the chaotic years following the Fourth Fall of Man. They ran a ship called the Redeemer, and they lost four crewmembers to Ogden while they were taking liberty on Gaia Three. Their crewmates were captured by debt recovery agents when they visited a twenty-first century themed club called The Crisis Centre. Ogden Processing Incorporated bought their debts and had them attached to a Biocore Processing unit before Frontman, Angel or the rest of their crew knew what was going on.

They took it personally, and the remaining crew of the Redeemer pooled their money and put a call out on the Undernet for a hacker who could get into the Gaia Three Matrix to help them free their crewmates. It took seven weeks to get a response. Niranda, a Fixer who helped Rafe when he first arrived in the city and promised to set him up with work, made the match between him and the crew of the Redeemer.

Rafe almost turned the job down. There was a lot of work involved, and Niranda didn’t have any of the preparation done. Then she showed him the plea the Redeemer crew put out on the Undernet. Even though their identities were hidden, he could see a kind of familial loyalty that he’d never had. Then she told him that their people were taken by Ogden Processing, the same company that used his father until his brain was nothing more than an empty computing node. That cinched it, and he got to work, finding employees who would have the credentials he needed to get into the Biocore. He may not have been able to save his father, but he could help the crew of the Redeemer and do some damage.

There were companies like Ogden Processing in New Udalpur, and Rafe hated all of them. “I’m at a secure terminal now,” he said as he entered Humperdink’s private virtual office next to the Biocore Processing entrance. If there was another avatar in the room, they’d see Humperdink typing at his computer. It was a visual representation of the connection Rafe made with the servers, where he checked the Navnet system watching the skies near the Ogden Building for the Redeemer and found it. “I’m giving you clearance to dock with the intake port on this floor. Your guys are here. I can see them connected to the life support systems out in the real world. The strange thing is that there’s no data connection from their processing node to the main servers.”

“All four of them? They’re alive?” asked Frontman.

“Yeah, alive,” Rafe replied, double checking their status.

“Are they wiped? Are we too late, Vagabond?” Frontman asked.

“I can’t tell from here. All I can see are their vitals, I’ll know more when I get access to the system they’re connected to, ...