Dream Drive Ch. 04

Yo Jackson,

Got another job for you! Mind if I come by your place tomorrow to explain the details? Big bucks this time. I can pay everything up front.

Let me know,

Ron

He told Ronald he didn't want any more jobs after what happened last time, and he'd meant it. Unfortunately, Ronald was the type of guy that didn't easily take no for an answer. Jackson decided to ignore the email. He had cash enough from game tournaments, and Isis had food that was just as good as the real world. He didn't have to participate in society anymore. He was outside of society.

The thought was something. He didn't rely on Earth anymore; he wasn't subsistent on the Sprawl. He didn't have to duck his head and go to school like a good citizen. He didn't have to either enroll in a higher-education program or get drafted. No more war propaganda, no more cramped apartment blocks, no more demands from people that were your friends right up until you weren't useful anymore. No more bullies, no more socializing with people he didn't care about, no more of any of it.

He could bring Chaki there, if he wanted. Part of him wondered what she would think about Earth if she could see it for herself, but he wasn't enthusiastic about the idea. Maybe he'd just sweep that option under the rug and forget about it.

Jackson bit his lip in thought. That first time he'd logged out, rattok blood splattered on his skin had traveled with him. That's how he'd known that Isis was real, that he wasn't nuts - his mother had seen the blood, too. Things attached to him, in a way, could travel through the connection to Isis. But how attached was attached, exactly? Another thing to test.

Jackson opened up a simple graphic design program. He found his wireless tablet in one of the desk drawers and drew the first rune - an arrow. He saved it with the filename 'Arrow', and repeated for the other runes. Simple enough.

Jackson created a new folder, encrypted it, then moved the drawings into the new library. A few clicks set a password for the folder and organized the runes in alphabetical order. He set it to display the images as previews, so he could view a shrunken version of each one at a glance.

Jackson rotated in his swivel chair and eyed his Dream Drive. The red helmet was still hard-linked to his computer by the fiber-optic cable that stretched across the floor and over his bed. His Isis data chip - inscribed with a black pentagram - was still inside the Drive.

The data chip held all his personal information. That meant the game, the magic, or whatever it was, was looking at his chip and reading its data. He'd already built mods to have the Drive draw computing power from his PC's hardware. With a little work, he might be able to access the chip's data. Actually modifying his statistics might be impossible - he doubted he could substitute anything in the real world for essence. However, he could definitely hack into his HUD, into the options menu. Maybe make it so that he could view files on his computer, even access his web browser from within Isis.

Jackson squinted. He could open the game menus at any time, even in the real world. He could still see his health and essence, along with his black scar. How much of it could he alter from his computer? Where did the magic end and technology begin? Did the Dream Drive itself even matter? It seemed vital to transporting himself into Isis, but beyond that, it was a piece of plastic, albeit with very fancy electronics.

He'd have to find time to investigate later, but the idea of abandoning the real world altogether felt...still not quite right. He liked the real world, in a way. Some things sucked, but he took simple joy in the life of a gamer and computer hardware hobbyist.

Jackson lay with his feet hanging off the bed and fixed his Drive on his head. A moment later, he woke back up in Shaka's tent.

She was waiting quietly. Seven runes were hanging in the air to her side, all painted in white lines. "You were slow."

"Sorry. A thing I had to take care of. Next time'll be fast."

Shaka nodded and gestured at the first rune. "I've decided to start with runes that follow their shapes. Most runes look like the thing they describe; these are easier to remember. The first is rock." It was a half circle, but the bottom was a square. She indicated the next one; it had a similar square bottom, but two triangles were arranged above it. "Mountain."

Jackson nodded and mumbled the names to himself. He drew a copy of each rune underneath what was there, creating a set of line of grey lines under her white. The dim tipi was filled with a grey-white glow from all the light. After she'd finished, he drew them all a second time, saying them all aloud to himself. She nodded in confirmation when he got them right.

He went back to his room, drew them into his computer, and logged back in. Shaka was already finished with another seven. "Ah. That was indeed faster."

"Told you."

"Should we try for more at once?"

Jackson shook his head. "Seven is good, I think. More than that will just slow me down."

"Then we shall continue thusly."

Their little transfer kept on for a time; Jackson vaporized home for a brief stint at his computer, then returned to force more runes into his head. It was a little exciting at first, learning magical symbols, but the work quickly grew dull. Shaka was quiet and patient, doing little other than telling him the name of each rune. He wasn't sure how he she kept herself organized.

His collection expanded rapidly. While back in his room, he looked at the number lining bottom of his rune folder, counting the number of files. He'd logged over 220, and Shaka didn't give any sign of slowing. He pushed back from his desk and stood.

"Jacky!"

Jackson paused. That was his mother's voice. He considered her for a moment, then walked to his bed and put the helmet on.

Two minutes later, he was back. He slipped the helmet off and ducked for his desk.

A rapid thumping slammed into his door. Jackson swiveled. "Jacky! You got someone here to see you! Hello!"

"One second!" Jackson said.

"Why the fuck didn't you answer the first time?!"

"I was sleeping!"

His mother didn't care enough to make response. He heard her footsteps, and some angry mumbling. Jackson drew the next set of runes with his tablet, then closed his folder.

He opened the door to his room. His mother had retreated into her own part of the apartment. Jackson stepped across the dusty hallway and into the living room, trying to ignore the smell.

Ronald was slouched on the couch. He'd cleared a space on the coffee table, shoving aside the collected beer cans so he could put his feet up. Jackson noted with annoyance that his boots were dripping water right onto the glass.

"Yo Jackson! How's my main man doing?"

Jackson cocked an eyebrow at his self-proclaimed friend. Ronald was black; charcoal black. Even his lips were dark brown. His mother was a refugee from a country in West Africa; Jackson didn't remember where, exactly. He was a few inches taller than Jackson, and a few years older, with a smile that shone like a million dollars and a voice like sweet oil. A baggy red t-shirt hung off his shoulders, and his pants hung so low they were at his thighs.

The outfit was for show, though. Ronald wasn't a thug; he just knew how to blend in with his crowd. Jackson knew exactly how manipulative he could be.

Jackson did not like Ronald.

Ronald glanced around. "Your place is really messed up, dude. You living organically or something? That stuff's a load of hippy bullshit if you ask me."

"Ronald, what the hell are you doing here?"

"Didn't you get my email?"

"I got the email. I didn't respond."

"Well, I sent it yesterday." Ronald stood up and sat on the arm of the couch. He folded his hands on his lap. "You're usually pretty prompt about...you know, life. Organized, that sort of thing. When I didn't hear from you, I was worried. Decided to pop by."

"I'm fine. You can leave now."

"Hey, hey, come on," Ronald said. "Don't tell me you aren't even a little bit curious about what I'm offering."

"Not even a little bit."

"It's not laundering, okay?"

"Ronald," Jackson said, "I don't care about laundering money for petty crime. I do care about doing it for snuff websites. I'm not helping you. I thought I'd made that clear."

"Jackson, you never even let me explain. I mean, we're friends, and you just walked away without even listening."

"That's because I didn't give a fuck. And we're not friends."

"Hey!" Ronald folded his arms. "I didn't know about that shit. Seriously. I was just a contact point. They knew I could get stuff done with hardware, they knew I knew a guy. I passed the job to you and skimmed 10 percent. They didn't tell me what it was for, they just told me what they wanted. You know that's what happened."

"And you told me it wasn't anything that bad," Jackson said, "when you didn't even know."

Ronald ran a hand over his scalp. He kept his hair buzzed close. "I told you what they told me."

"You believed people like that?"

"It was a lot of money."

"Good thing I didn't believe you," Jackson said.

"How did you find out what they were doing, anyway?" Ronald asked.

"I put a little piggyback on that rerouter I built. And then I found out they were filming themselves raping women and selling subscriptions to their video collection."

"Well, if it's any consolation," Ronald said, "they all got busted a month after."

"I know," Jackson said. "Who do you think gave an anonymous tip to the FBI? I had all the evidence right there."

"Remind me not to piss you off."

"You're pissing me off right now," Jackson said. "Get out of my apartment."

"Jackson, this is different," Ronald said. "That job changed things. You were really angry - I mean, we may have had what I would term interpersonal conflict, but nothing like that. I knew they weren't nice people, but I didn't think it was that bad. I started thinking I was doing you wrong. I was doing people wrong. Supporting rape and violence like that - it's not right."

"Real nice words from a drug dealer."

Ronald offered him a gleaming half-grin. His teeth were shock white against his lips. "Drugs are different. Victimless crime. Besides, no one's forcing people to take them. People have a right to buy what they want. I'm a believer in free market capitalism. Emphasis on the free."

"I. Don't. Care."

Ronald raised his hands. "Jackson. If we ever had any friendship at all - if there was ever anything cool between us, if any of the jobs we did ever meant anything - can I just have a say, for five seconds?"

"Will you leave after?"

"Yeah. I'll leave after."

Jackson sighed. "Talk."

"Anyway, you got me thinking," Ronald said. "I'd been...doing things wrong. So, this past year, I cleaned up my act. I knew a few guys that were less about crime and more about principle. I started in with them. I'm good with people, good at finding and filling roles. A lot of my contacts have come in handy."

"What sort of people are we talking about?"

"...the Wolves, Jackson. I'm a wolf."

Jackson's eyes widened. "Are you serious?"

"Yeah. For real."

Jackson started shaking his head. "No."

"Jackson -"

"I said no," Jackson repeated. "They don't put you in jail for that. They drag you off and erase you. Not taking the risk."

"I'm making a difference, Jackson," Ronald said. "I know you're a good guy. You're better than me. That's why I knew I could come back here. I knew you wouldn't rat on me, even if you did say no."

"And now I'm saying no," Jackson said. "Ask someone else."

"You're the best fucking modder in the Sprawl," Ronald said. "Maybe the whole country. The Wolves know it, the government knows it - and neither of them know who you are. The wolves are planning to down an elk. A serious fucking elk. Giantismal."

"Giantismal? Is that even a word?"

"Dunno," Ronald said. "But that's how fucking big this guy is."

"You've got me wrong," Jackson said. "I don't care about any of that stuff. I don't care about the government, or the war, or the Wolves. I'm going to get by doing my own thing and trying to enjoy life. And that's it."

"And apparently I'm the one full of crap," Ronald said. "You always were great at lying to yourself. Maybe that's why you did so many jobs before you quit."

"Keep insulting me," Jackson said. "Maybe you'll change my mind. Now get the fuck out."

Ronald went to the door. He stopped, turned around. "I know people, Jackson. That's why we were a good pair. And I know you. You're all about not caring, but I know what that's really about. You don't want to care because it hurts too damn much. Well, join the fucking club. My sister - they took Charlene, Jackson."

Charlene. Jackson knew Charlene. Ronald's sister shared his black skin, and his smile, but hers was genuine. The few times he'd been to Ronald's house, she was always there with a kind word and warm cookies. Best he'd ever had.

She was also very outspoken against the GAU. Dangerously outspoken.

"...who took her?"

"The Feds," Ronald said. "You know how she was. She said the wrong thing around the wrong people. I kept my distance from that shit because...I don't know. I just didn't want to be involved. Like you, I guess. I just wanted to cruise by, live life. But now, she's gone, and there isn't shit I can do about it - except get some revenge."

Ronald spread his arms. "I'm done with crime," he said, "done with small-time bullshit. I'm a wolf." He gestured to the apartment. "We don't have to take this from them. Listening to their spoon-fed news, living in their concrete apartment blocks, going to school to either get injected into the system or get drafted. I came here because I figured you just might listen, and we could use you. We really could."

"...I've got other things on my plate, Ronald."

"Just think about it," he said. "I'll email you the details. If you decide to give a shit, let me know."

Ronald opened the door and walked out. It closed behind him with a rickety thump. The hinges were rusting up, getting loose. Jackson idly started thinking about how he'd fix them, but then he remembered that he wasn't doing anything until his mother picked up the slack on her end.

He stood there for a moment, absorbing what he'd been told. There was a strong chance Ronald was full of shit. He was a pretty good actor. Always smug, smiling, tough to read. But his face when he'd said the words - when he'd mentioned Charlene - that was different. Jackson didn't think he was acting.

The Wolves.

Jackson didn't know much about them. They weren't about being known, except when they announced themselves. They were anti-government - often violently so.

Even in the decades before the war started, the government of the United States and most of the members of NATO had become increasingly oppressive, but it wasn't until first terrorist attack involving a nuclear weapon that things really got serious. Phoenix Arizona was wiped off the map. Voters prioritized safety against a rapidly increasing variety of technological threats. They willingly traded freedom for a harsh police state.

It might not have gotten so bad if it wasn't for GD2 - the second Great Depression. At the height of it, worldwide unemployment in developed countries averaged about 30%. The Chinese housing bubble collapsed, and as they struggled to keep their economy afloat, they became more aggressive in securing raw materials in Africa.

In order to combat its own problems, America began a policy of active reindustrialization. Demands that the government do something about the state of the economy increased their power even further. Eventually, they launched a series of armed interventions in African nations in the name of overthrowing entrenched despots. In reality, they needed resources, something to do with thousands of unemployed young men, and an excuse to make more tanks. With China and the United States both fighting in the same region, tensions began to rise, and they swiftly blossomed into a full-scale proxy war that spread north through the always-turbulent Middle East.

As armed conflict closed in, Russia reacted by siding with the Chinese. It wasn't long before their military intervention to halt the Iran-Israeli war turned into the armed occupation and direction of Iran and northern Iraq. The United States arrived to back up its longtime ally, Israel, and suddenly Russian and American forces were staring at each other across a few miles of landmine-strewn desert.

China took the distraction of the United States as an opportunity and attacked one of their positions in Tanzania. They intended to pin the blame on India. India, caught between alliances with the West and economic interests with the East, had tried to stay neutral in the rapidly escalating conflict. If China made the United States think India was working more closely with China, it would force India into the Bloc as a full military ally.

That was what the history books said, anyway. Jackson found that the closer they came to describing the present day, the less truthful they were. Whatever really happened, and whatever the real motivations were, China dramatically underestimated the US military presence, and the attack failed - leaving their fingerprints all over it.

Four days later, the United States formally declared war on China. The NATO countries were compelled to defend any member state against foreign aggression, and with such blatant evidence, they had no choice but to come in with the United States. Suddenly, the world was divided. World War Three had begun.

That was 14 years ago.

So far, no battles had been fought on the territory of any of the main combatants but Russia - and that was only a brief stint until they pushed back down through Iran. There were a few unwritten rules - no nukes, no direct sea invasions, no gas weapons. China, Russia, and the US and allies conducted their war in foreign territory, removed from their homelands.

Both groups expanded rapidly, scooping up satellite territories. Democracy became a shell game amongst all parties involved. The always-turbulent Middle East, which had slowly been stabilizing, fractured along old tribal and religious divides. The greater forces took any opportunity to use local troops in exchange for aid and weapons.

In order to bring the populace in line and create stronger nationalist momentum, US authorities cracked down on any sign of 'homegrown' terrorism, even more than they already had. The difference between federal police and military battalions shrunk to the width of a pin. The oppression became a self-fulfilling prophecy. The Wolves rose up in response to everything - the fixed elections, the crony capitalism, the warrantless surveillance state, and what seemed to be a never-ending war used as an excuse to justify power grabs.

Jackson agreed with their principles, but they were messy, dangerous. They bombed government buildings in DC and other cities, often with civilian casualties. They resorted to illegal enterprises for funding, often partnering with established organized crime. They fought fire with fire.

Jackson didn't get involved with that sort of thing. While the real world was blackened and bruised, the virtual world thrived. The collective governments of the world knew that the Dream Drive, and the Hub, provided an outlet for their people and for their economies. It was carefully watched, but allowed to grow unhindered.

"Jacky."

Jackson turned. His mother was standing at the entrance to the living room, dressed in a shirt and shorts. Dark lines sagged under her eyes.

"What?"

"Who was that?"

"...old friend, I guess."

"You guess." She folded her arms. "You gonna clean the kitchen yet?"