The Wired Man

21

Personal Entry: The Wired Man

I awoke in complete darkness. The air was damp, and the sound of rustling newspaper crumpled beneath me as I moved. I squirmed to a sitting position; my back ached. Whatever was underneath me felt squishy and greasy. It was like being trapped in a box of lubed up beanbag chairs.

After a few seconds, the smell of rancid food hit me, and I knew exactly where I was. I was in a goddamn dumpster. The memory of last night came rushing back, and I remembered the large, green incinerator I passed out next to. I threw my arms up against the top cover. Most bins had failsafes that prevented humans from being trapped inside during the incineration phase, but being inside a machine that could potentially burn you alive isn't the most comforting feeling in the world.

I pried myself over the edge and fell out onto the pavement. The bright, late afternoon light blinded me, and my head spun. I rubbed my eyes. I ran my tongue across the roof of my mouth; it tasted crusty, kind of like dried copper flecks. I tried to swallow but instead ended up taking a deep breath, inhaling whatever was in my mouth into my throat.

After spending five minutes hacking my lungs inside out, I managed to get to my feet. I swung around to inspect the dumpster and saw the warning light flashing bright red. Red was supposed to mean incineration in progress; I should've been cooked.

Still dizzy with confusion, I brought up my main page. I knew this wasn't the place where had I passed out but still didn't recognize anything. My only shot was to try and query my location from my profile.

My profile faded into view. If I was still connected, then how did I manage to evade the SPA? They should have been able to use my locator chips to find me. I scanned the corner of the screen, trying to figure out what part of town I was in, but when I tried to access my location, it came up as unknown. How could it be unknown? Unless...

I reached around to the back of my neck and felt a small rough spot at the base of my skull. I tongued my back molars to find my back right one missing. Someone had taken out my location chips, both of them. A shot of anxious adrenaline pumped into my veins. Someone didn't want me to be found.

Frantic for answers, I sifted through the events of night before. I had made it out of the apartment, onto the street, threw that agent into a bus, and passed out in an alley. Nowhere in there did I remember anyone cutting out my locators or putting me in that dumpster. Down rounds weren't the same as anesthesia. You got sleepy and would pass out, but it didn't last much longer than thirty minutes. It was at least two o'clock in the afternoon. Whoever had taken out my locator chips drugged me.

I jogged across the vacant street and started walking down the sidewalk. Whoever it was, they didn't seem to care much about much more than making sure the SPA didn't get their hands on me. That didn't mean they were the good guys.

It was like being trapped in one of those stupid terrorist conspiracy movies the SPA broadcasted. Was I working with terrorists? Who were these people? I grabbed my head and leaned up against the window front of a crappy, little convenience store. I felt like crying, laughing, punching a wall, or running away, but all that came out was a whimper.

A couple minutes passed before I was able to gather myself and continue on. Even though the location chips were ripped from my body, the surveillance video feeds from the surrounding nodes would be able to find me with facial recognition if I spent too much time dicking around. Besides, I needed to talk to someone, and I knew of at least one person who could relate or at least could risk giving me a drink. That and it would be the last place they would ever look for me.

//

 "So what happened?"

It took me awhile to find the place because the system records aren't always exact, that and I didn't really remember his name, so I had to go mostly on picture and employment. Why I sought out my old cube neighbor I couldn't tell you. It was a good place to hole up, but there was something more to it than that. I felt like I needed someone to talk to until I could straighten things out.