Master wu, p.1
Master Wu, page 1
INDIE OWL PRESS
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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
THE FOREVERS: MASTER WU
Copyright © 2024 G Michael Smith
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any manner without the express written consent of the author, except in the case of brief excerpts in reviews and articles.
Illustrated by G Michael Smith
Cover art © GrandeDuc
Cover design & Interior layout/design by Vanessa Anderson
at NightOwlFreelance.com
Paperback ISBN-13: 978-1-949193-28-2
Hardcover ISBN-13: 978-1-949193-29-9
To Cheryl Cameron for her commitment to read everything and tell me the truth.
“She remembered who she was and the game changed.”
― Lalah Delia
CHAPTER 1
Black & Ugly
CHAPTER 2
Research & Discovery
CHAPTER 3
The Takeover
CHAPTER 4
Jayne Makes Herself at Home
CHAPTER 5
Cosplay
CHAPTER 6
Getting into Character
CHAPTER 7
Dinner with Dr. William Thurston
CHAPTER 8
The Party
CHAPTER 9
The Disagreement
CHAPTER 10
New Plans
CHAPTER 11
Preparation
CHAPTER 12
The Gravball Suite
CHAPTER 13
Gas Aftermath
CHAPTER 14
Meeting Sentinel Central
CHAPTER 15
Training
CHAPTER 16
Prison Visit
CHAPTER 17
The Garden Party
CHAPTER 18
Back Home
CHAPTER 19
Reflection
CHAPTER 20
Get a Job!
CHAPTER 21
Interview with HUB Central
CHAPTER 22
Never the Twain Shall Meet
CHAPTER 23
Facebots
CHAPTER 24
Bang Crash, Crash Bang
CHAPTER 25
On the Dome
CHAPTER 26
Biome 7
CHAPTER 27
Caught, But Not
CHAPTER 28
Lies
CHAPTER 29
Spy vs Spy
CHAPTER 30
Private Plans
CHAPTER 31
Get Thurston
CHAPTER 32
An Invitation from the Prolocutor
CHAPTER 33
A Not Unwanted Companion
CHAPTER 34
Destruction & Discovery
CHAPTER 35
Spaced
CHAPTER 36
A Brush with Death
CHAPTER 37
Expropriation & New Plans
CHAPTER 38
Plans
CHAPTER 39
Thurston, Dearest
CHAPTER 40
Manipulation
CHAPTER 41
More Plans
CHAPTER 42
The Sting
CHAPTER 43
Contained
CHAPTER 44
Realizations
FURTHER READING
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
CHAPTER 1
Black & Ugly
Connectome science was largely considered to be in its infancy—only an unscrupulous, secretive, brilliant few had made any real advances. Legitimate researchers at the universities were still working on the basic process of capturing and recording a complete human mind. New tech in this field wasn’t developing quickly because the main focus of all official research was on saving the entire human race from extinction through the biome project. Building tools to possibly save a few individuals was considered frivolous, even unpatriotic.
Others saw developing this tech as a way to generate significant amounts of credits. The more credits you had, the greater your chance of survival—if the rumor about a highly specialized biome being built was true. That biome was purportedly smaller but much more sophisticated. It was said to be reserved for those who could afford the price, and who wanted to live forever. Biome 13, as it was called in those places where no one ever spoke of credits, offered a viable possibility, given this group had 80 years or so to get it ready before the Swarm obliterated Earth. Of course, those fabulously rich people somehow had to live that long…
There were two minds in Jayne’s body, but only one of them knew of the other and that one had to be careful, for it was a secret she must keep. Jayne wanted to survive, and the secret was pivotal to that survival. She would tiptoe around in the darkness when the body and other mind were sleeping, but never in the daylight. She had to cover the tracks of her night forays and leave no hint of her passing.
All the while, she must spy and search for the way and the opportunity. Escaping would not be easy. The battle would not be bloodless, that is, if a dying mind could bleed. At the very least, it would be messy.
Jayne prayed she would find the way soon. She knew that this body was sick. She was sick. Her mind was sick. It was disconnected from all that was real. Without reality to relate to, a mind starts to consume itself. The thoughts reach out to touch something—anything—to make contact with the real world. There are only so many times it can endure coming back empty. Winter Bancroft had been in charge of her body for an eternity, or so it seemed to Jayne.
Jayne had sent a message to Rose. Why hadn’t she come? Perhaps the messengers had failed. She had not checked lately. Tonight, Jayne would look to see if the nanobots she hacked on that last day were still viable, still waiting to be activated. Lucky, her office AI, would understand the message immediately. All Rose and the others would need to do was go into her office and sit down. Lucky was such a blabbermouth, he would tell them immediately.
Perhaps they already knew, and they still could not find her. The transmission of the nanobots was strong and would certainly be picked up in the normal course of things. Maybe Winter Bancroft was living in a Faraday cage. If so, she would have to go out sometime, or what would be the point? After all, she had this brand-new body… but the body was sick. Why was the body sick? Why was Winter’s new body sick?
Jayne wanted to push out a bubble, but that was impossible. She only had control of this little section of her brain. Why is this body sick? Jayne knew she had to stop talking about her own body as if it did not belong to her. It was her body. She had to find a way to get it back.
º
Winter was in bed. It had been nearly a month since she had been awakened in this new body. This was the body she had coveted ever since she had read the files on the diminutive thirteen-year-old girl who had been accepted to the fixer program on HUB… She could not remember the number. One of the HUBs anyway. She had even gone to meet her. No, not to meet her, but to inspect her. She did not want to know anything about the girl’s personality. That might cause her to show weakness. She just wanted to know if this young girl’s brain was adept enough to handle her. After all, she was one of the smartest people on the planet. It was important she stay alive so she could help the world survive.
Winter sat up. “Rubbish,” she thought. She was not doing this to help the planet, she was doing this to help herself. Once that was done then perhaps, she would give the planet some of her time. “I don’t have to lie to myself.”
But she had not felt very good ever since she had been awakened by William. He kept telling her that this was normal. It took time for a body to adjust to a new master.
º
She asked him if he felt this sick in the beginning and was irritated at his response. She remembered his exact words, “I never got sick. Perhaps Ranovich was more like me than you are like Jayne Wu.”
What the hell did he mean? Did he think the illness was caused by some incompatibility? Jayne was sweet and lovely while Bancroft was bitter and twisted, and this body did not like bitter and twisted? Well, too fracking bad. She liked being a caustic bitch, and this body might as well get used to it. She was, after all, all that it had.
º
Jayne was privy to Winter’s thoughts whenever there was a spike of dopamine in her brain. An increase in the amount of this neurotransmitter seemed to open up pathways to the quarantined area where Jayne secretly resided. Initially, Jayne considered this a benefit, since she could keep tabs on everything. Whenever Winter was thinking thoughts that gave her pleasure, the dopamine spiked.
Winter had some particularly nasty thoughts that gave her pleasure. Jayne soon realized the nastiness was more than she could stomach. Just the previous evening, Winter had stared at a young man who brought her the evening meal. He was new. She smiled luridly at him and provocatively licked her lips. That was not horrible, but it did make Jayne cringe. The disgusting thoughts that followed were difficult to endure. They were violent images of Winter in her old body, whipping the young man and laughing with each of his screams.
Jayne rationalized that this was better than seeing her own body do those horrible things. Then it occurred to her this was
“Good,” thought Jayne, “at least I can consider my own body as truly mine.” That was a start. The quarantined area in which Jayne resided was not one single section of her brain but several areas randomly situated all over the cortex. They were connected via what Jayne called locked-down pathways—neural pathways that had no direct connection to the rest of the brain’s conscious self. Jayne had not created this hideaway with any conscious awareness of the actual biology—it had been an instinctive defensive action triggered by Winter Bancroft’s first foiled attempt to commandeer Jayne’s body. Jayne, however, knew the pathways were there and was able to open a doorway to the quarantined area to preserve a record of herself during Winter’s second, successful body takeover.
Winter did not know of the locked-down pathways’ existence. As long as that held true, she could never locate the part of Jayne that was still in her head.
º
Winter got out of bed. She walked across the room to the small lavatory. Every step she took was precarious. She had difficulty controlling this small body. Every time she took a step, there was something wrong. Either the floor felt like it was undulating, or the start of any movement was slightly behind the command to do so. Her new brain told her the movement was complete when, in fact, it was not. She stumbled and grabbed out for the door she was approaching. She felt an urge to vomit. She steadied herself and the urge faded. She turned and began the trek back to the bed. She grabbed her VID from the table beside her bed and called Thurston.
“That smug bastard better be able to fix this,” she thought as her woozy head hit the pillow. She lay and waited. He did not arrive, and with each passing second, she got angrier and angrier. By the time he stepped into the room, she was seething.
º
The dopamine levels spiked. For Jayne, it was like staring through a window into a darkened room and someone suddenly turned on the lights. She could see and hear clearly the events happening in the room. How are you doing, my love?” cooed William Thurston.
º
Winter sat up in bed. The quick movement sent her head into a spin. She screamed with frustration, and her anger faded in the wake of her helplessness. “This is not working. Fix this, William. I cannot take it anymore.”
“We need to understand what it is we are trying to fix. I have gone over your scans and the logs of the recording process. Everything seems to be within normal parameters. The only thing I noticed was the left-over space.”
“What fracking leftover space? You are talking to the top neuroscientist on this doomed rock, not some Nursery baby.”
“Winter, my dear, you have to stay calm. Nothing improves when you get this way,” soothed Thurston as he let a tiny smile slip onto his face. He regretted it and replaced it with a look of concern. It was, however, too late. She had seen it.
Winter stiffened. “If I could get out of this bed, I would start by smacking that grin off your stupid face. You used to be handsome, but now you are worse than ugly. You are mediocre.”
“I was not mocking you. I was just trying to make you feel better,” lied Thurston. He bit his lip to avoid showing his true feelings. He was enjoying being in charge. He liked the fact that she had to depend on him.
“Frack you, you bastard,” she screamed and then suddenly softened. “Bill, please help me,” she whispered.
º
Jayne intercepted a series of thoughts and images that expressed Winter’s true feelings. She saw Thurston, in his new body, chained to a wall while Winter, dressed in black latex, was whipping him.
Jayne cringed at the bizarre nature of their relationship. The emotion she felt nearly leaked out of the secure pathway. She blocked the leak and, in the process, saw that the welling of emotion had enlarged her quarantined space. All Jayne felt was an increase in the room. In actuality, one of the pathways had expanded and commandeered a web of neurons nearby. The data they contained suddenly became a part of Jayne’s memories. It was something about a child named Chelsea. She was a friend of Winter’s when they were children. Jayne felt another rush that she squashed. She realized she had stolen some of Winter’s memories. Jayne knew she lacked most of the information she’d collected in her own memory. It was almost all gone. She had been unable to save it. In its place were all the memories and experiences of one of the Earth’s top neurobiologists. The trick was to access the right bits. She had to find a way to fully restore her own brain’s dominance and memories and purge this intruder.
º
“I am trying to do just that. You will have to be patient.”
“You know I am not good with patience. Please tell me. Tell me about the ‘leftover space.’”
“Well,” started Thurston, “When I ran comparisons of the last series of connectome recordings and their subsequent implantations, I noticed there were variances as to the amount of data being implanted and the amount of space available. You remember when we first tried to use a blank: a body grown in the lab that had no experiences—the results were catastrophic. I think we used Bernard’s scan. It was like this brilliant mind became severely intellectually challenged. We discovered that a brain without real-world experiences was only able to perform autonomic functions. The neurons were there, but the connections were not. There was no room for Bernard’s consciousness inside the brain.”
“Of course, I remember. It was, after all, my design. You were just the hack who did the grunt work.”
Not to be goaded, Thurston continued, “Well, in most cases, including mine, there was a balance between the size of the scan and the room in the brain. It seems that most intelligent people have the same number of neurons in the cortex along with the requisite connections.” He paused, and he savored what came next. “Well, in your case, the brain and the scan did not match very well.”
“You mean part of me did not make it? Perhaps I misjudged the intelligence of this girl. That explains why I am having so much trouble. This puny brain is simply inadequate.” She looked up at Thurston. “So, what do we do about it? We will have to find someone new. I vaguely remember a seventeen-year-old in one of the biomes—yes, Biome 6. Do you think we can get her?”
Thurston placed his hand on Winter’s hand. His first urge to pop her arrogant bubble had faded. This was not going to be pretty, so he softened it. “Winter, you know that I have always loved you…”
She cut him off. “Cut the crap. Are you telling me that someone else got the girl from Biome 6? If so, I am sure we can find someone else.”
“No, that is not it,” Thurston jumped in. “In your case, there was a high percentage of space left over in this girl’s brain after we finished the scan. You were always right in that she was brilliant, but you were wrong if you thought that you were her equal. Please don’t feel bad because I do not know if anyone could be this girl’s equal.” He watched Winter’s face pale, and he rushed on. “Think of all you can learn. You are her. You have the best that human biology can offer.”
Winter seemed to gather for an all-out assault. “You mean to tell me that… that little bitch is…” She could not bring herself to finish. Her new body sagged, and she said nothing.
Thurston sat beside her. He reflected on the memory of the first time they had tried to transfer Winter’s mind into Jayne Wu. He would have to tell Winter what happened, and about the following months because the scan he used for this second transfer had been recorded before the first attempt. In the middle of the first transfer, Jayne had done something to stop it from happening. This resulted in Winter’s death. Jayne had turned her into a bubbling mound of protoplasm by somehow causing all her cells to become pressurized and burst. Then again, maybe he would never tell her the truth. She had accepted his explanation that she had died quietly in her sleep just after her last connectome scan.
The room went quiet. There was no sound except the occasional sniffle from Winter. Thurston was unsure if she had picked up a bit of a cold or she was actually crying. Winter reached for a tissue from the side table and wiped her nose. She turned and looked at Thurston.
He smiled wanly and reached out for her hand and held it. “Winter, love, what do you want to do?”
