Freedom Incorporated by Peter Tylee (me reader .txt) 📖

ourselves a few hours at most. We have to get out of here, now.”

“Where do you propose we go?” Jen asked, mentally cataloguing the things she’d want to take in preparation for a new beginning.

“We’ll go to my place until we can find more permanent accommodation for you.” Dan again peeked out the balcony window; it was the only outward sign that he was still nervous with the Raven in the vicinity. He knew the cyborg had probably portaled to America by now, but his presence lingered. “Get your stuff.” Dan motioned with his head. “Pack bare essentials only, enough for a couple of days. You’ll want to travel light.”

Samantha obeyed without further comment, trundling into the master bedroom to pack a duffle bag for herself and another for Cookie. Jen hovered for long enough to smile bravely at the man who was risking his own safety to protect a bunch of criminals. She’d returned to wondering why he was doing so much for them. What’s in it for him? That question continued to pester her while she gathered her personal effects. She also changed clothes and neatly folded the skirt and top that belonged to Dan’s sister. Christine wasn’t it? She placed them on top of her brimming overnight bag. That’s it, she thought, looking sadly around her bedroom. If I’ve forgotten anything, I’ll have to buy it or do without.

She heard exasperated curses coming from the master bedroom so she dumped her bag in the living room and went to help Samantha. “You need a hand?”

Samantha’s nerves were fraying and the stress of the evening was showing clearly in her eyes. They looked seconds away from brimming with tears. “No, I’m just fine.” She was fighting with an age-stiffened strap on the duffel bag.

“Hey, leave that,” Jen said, protecting Samantha from the source of her immediate frustration. She rested a reassuring hand on her shoulder before pulling her into a supportive embrace. Jen was surprised to feel her shiver. “It’s going to be okay,” she cooed, soothingly rubbing her hands up and down Samantha’s back. “It’ll be okay. I promise.”

“How do you know?”

Jen inhaled deeply, squirming to think of an answer. “I can just feel it. Dan’s a good man,” - more doubt tugged at the cautious part of her mind - “…I think. He’s going to help us settle somewhere new.”

“What about uni?” Samantha was one year from finishing her degree in social science, just like Jen, except Samantha was majoring in history.

Jen hadn’t considered that. She could barely believe she’d been in a lecture theatre earlier that day. She checked her watch; it was approaching one in the morning. Well, yesterday. Her studies seemed so far removed from the bizarre reality her life had become. “I don’t know. Maybe we can get advanced standing and finish at another university.” She doubted it. If they needed a clean break from their current lives, applying for advanced standing would go against the rules. On the other hand, even if they’d finished their degrees they wouldn’t be able to use them after switching identities. “Maybe our new identities will already have degrees.”

Samantha crossly shook her head. “No, I want to earn it. I’d rather have credit and finish my degree properly.”

“We’ll look into it.” Jen wondered where they’d end up. On the coast? She fervently hoped so. With a boat? She doubted it. Not unless we win the lottery in the next few days. Determination gritted her teeth. But first we have togive UniForce the slip. “Come on, are you packed?”

“Nearly.” Samantha broke their huddle and tossed a few more items of underwear into her bag. “I wish we’d done the laundry yesterday.”

“Yeah, me too.” Jen helped by carrying Cookie’s bag, dumping it next to hers.

Dan and Cookie hadn’t moved. The bounty hunter was still looking out the window and the hacker was still hunching over his terminal.

“What about my LectroLogic?” That was the series name Global Integrated Systems had assigned to his model of computer. Cookie refused to budge. “I can’t just leave it here.”

“Bring the computer and keyboard, but leave the monitor,” Dan suggested. The monitor was thin and light but it was still an awkward size. “I’ve got a seventeen inch XRM at home, you can use that.” The computer itself was barely larger than the plugs that connected to it and, though heavy for its size, it had the dimensions of a dainty shoe.

“Okay,” Cookie said reluctantly. “Just give me a few minutes. I’ve gotta start a few apps or our tunnel won’t be there when we’re up and running later.” A taskbar of scanners popped up on his screen. Of the nine circular indicators, seven were red and two were green. With a whir of activity and enough flickering to send an epileptic into a fit, Cookie set the appropriate parameters and launched the remaining applications. After five minutes only two red dots remained.

The others waited in silence, having nothing further to say. Samantha thought it seemed a sad way to leave their abode. But when the shit hits the fan, what’re you gonna do? she thought, tuning her spirit toward the positive in their situation. I can be whoever I want… I can recreate myself. She was a bit stung that she couldn’t say farewell to her other friends, but she shoved that thought as far from her mind as she could and focussed on the good things instead. Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens…

“Okay, I’m done.” Cookie stood while waiting for the computer to gracefully shut down. His fractal-bacteria screen oozed to a shade of algae brown when the signal from the box faded and he yanked the plugs roughly from their sockets before bundling the computer to his chest like a father would cradle a child. “What now?”

“Do you have any chips you’ve never used?” Dan asked.

“I have one,” Cookie offered, “but it’s not linked to any active accounts so you can’t do anything with it.”

“How about chips you haven’t used for a long time?”

Cookie nodded emphatically. “Yeah, heaps,” - he fished into his pocket for his chip selector - “but they’re all in here, so we’d have to break it open if you want more than one.”

“He doesn’t get out much,” Samantha offered by way of explanation.

“I can see why,” Dan muttered so softly under his breath that nobody caught his fleeting words.

“I have one I haven’t used for over a year. I’ve been saving it for an emergency,” Samantha said, then added in a whisper, “I suppose this qualifies.”

“But I don’t,” Jen said ruefully.

“I know.” Dan looked displeased while trying to think of an alternative. “And you definitely can’t use the identify you used in Albury.”

Cookie, with his analytical mind, generated the solution. “It’s simple! I go through with Samantha and come back on a different chip, bringing Samantha’s selector with me. Then I switch to a third chip and Jen can use another of Samantha’s instead of her own.”

“Do you have one I can use?” Jen asked.

Samantha thumbed through the identities on her selector and said, “Here’s one I haven’t used for six months.”

“Perfect.” Dan snatched a bag from the floor, leaving Samantha and Jen to carry their own while Cookie clutched his computer.

“Hang on,” Jen said, frowning. “What about you? You’re chipped, right?”

“Yes. That’s why I’m not portaling with you, as a precaution. The Raven saw us drive off together at the mall and there’s a record of me portaling to Tweed Heads. Besides, for all we know he might have watched us climb the downpipe.” He slowly shook his head. “There can’t be any record of my chip mixed in with the new ones you’re using. I’ll find an alternative means of transportation to Brisbane, portal home, and meet you in town.”

“Mind if I ask where ‘home’ is?” Cookie raised his eyebrows inquisitively.

“Andamooka.”

It drew three blank stares. None of them had any idea where Andamooka was. Nobody did. That’s why Dan liked it so much; it was out of the way, his own private nest.

“Come on.” Dan headed for the door, duffel bag in one hand and Colt in the other. “The Raven’s gone for now, but he’ll be back when he realises he’s on a wild goose chase.”

He noticed the fried security alarm on his way out and wondered just how close they’d come to clashing with death. And he wasn’t the only one to notice; Jen pointed it out to Samantha, who silently mouthed a prayer of thanks for their timely deliverance.

None of them spoke as they lugged their bags through town to the supermarket where Dan and Jen had arrived only hours earlier. It was dead at 1:20 in the morning, and for good reason. The sane members of the community were sound asleep. There wasn’t even much activity from the petty criminals and thieves since the Department of Justice logged their actions and ordered police follow-ups for individuals who exceeded the tolerance threshold. Rapes were unheard of since the introduction of mandatory chipping. Indeed, rape was the primary epidemic crime microchip proponents had sought to eliminate. And they’d succeeded. Now rape lived only on film and in history texts where it served as memorabilia from a brutal society. Women, and men, could purchase small recorders that would register the Universal Identification Number of anybody who stepped within its operational sphere. They were so small that rapists could never be certain whether they’d searched thoroughly enough through their victim’s possessions to uncover such a device. Consequently, a string of rapists had either been incarcerated or incinerated - depending on where the crime had occurred - which had stemmed the ugly tide of rape. Everyone, even the grumpiest microchip antagonists and the most diehard activists, had to grudgingly admit that there were some good things that mandatory chipping had fostered.

Dan handed Cookie his bag and watched him juggle his armload of equipment as he stepped inside the white circle. Then he entered the code for Andamooka’s lonely portal station and stood back for the pop. Next, he waved Samantha forward and repeated the service for her. She waved briefly before also popping away.

“The Andamooka portal is at the front of the Dusty Andamooka Inn, which is open 24 hours. I know the proprietors.” His lips twisted into a wry smile. “They’re a bit… peculiar, but I once used the inn as a watering hole and they’re amicable enough.” He gently touched Jen’s shoulder, again astounded by the fire in her skin. “You should stay there tonight. It’ll take me a while to reach you,” he said, looking apologetic. “I don’t have a car.”

Jen nodded understanding, chilled by his icy touch. “No sweat.” She meant it in the archaic sense, the meaning it had held before the word mutated into an anti-globalisation rallying flag. “You’re a long way out of town?”

“A fair way, yes,” Dan confirmed, removing his hand when Cookie popped into view and stepped from the portal.

The self-professed computer geek fidgeted with the two chip selectors before handing one to Jen. “Man, it stinks in Andamooka.” He screwed up his nose.

Jen ignored Cookie and said to Dan, “You should use the main portal station in Surfer’s Paradise. It’s far enough from Tweed, big enough to find easily, and busy enough to stay anonymous. It’ll just add another hour to your trip if you go to Brisbane.”

“All right,” Dan said, standing erect. “I’ll do that.” Then he entered Andamooka’s portal code twice more and watched as Cookie and Jen popped from view.