Only Human Chapter 8: Pandora

Zoey was taken back by the size of everything. The declining hallway was high, made to fit someone at least three times the height of her. The smooth, bright walls were made in a minimalistic design with no trace of individuality. She just noticed that the hallway was longer than the column she entered just moments previously, and Zoey was trying to figure out how that was possible when she heard the droid returning.

Zoey slipped back to the corner so that she would be in the drone’s blind spot as it crossed the threshold. She watched it silently as it floated down the hallway. The opening had already shut itself, and Zoey was trying to find where the lighting in the room was coming from.

She cautiously started down the hallway. The stark walls offered her some relief as there was no place for the drone to ambush her. The hallway curved, indicating a large tube going downward. Was this how the spacecraft went down the center of the building?

The hall dead-ended with a smaller tube, which turned out to be an elevator. The door automatically opened as she stood in front of it. The drone must have gone down to a lower level. As she entered the equally sterile elevator, she saw there were five buttons. Unsure of what to do, Zoey pressed the next button down, assuming that she was on the top floor currently.
The elevator smoothly moved downwards. Zoey counted for ten seconds before the elevator stopped and opened the doors. Zoey stepped out into a glass enclosure. Central glass doors spread apart before, and she stepped up a small pair of stairs that lead to a semi-circle of monitors and computers, all darkened and disused.

Zoey found the power switch encased in a metal box on the wall. She opened the box and pulled the level. The computers hummed to life. Walking up to the complex setup, she sat down in one of the chairs. The inclusion of chairs meant there had to been humans here at some point. But where had they gone?

She watched an hourglass icon appear as the system booted up. Simultaneously, the various monitors flickered with different images and data. Zoey had to mentally brace herself from the all the data going between all of the equipment. She sat in front of the largest monitor. There was a thin layer of dust on the controls.

Arms crossed, she flipped through the CCTV screens. Most of them showed long, vacant hallways with the occasional drifting drone. Most of the rooms looked like laboratories, long neglected. There were only two areas of major activity that Zoey could see, both on the lowest floor of the facility.

The first was where a majority of the drones were swarming. It looked like they were carrying off a large container or casket. Was this what was in the shuttle? None of the other camera angles showed her where they had taken the mysterious package.
The other tantalizing view was of the compound’s only other living residents, not counting the drones. The view only showed her their backs, but there were four people working at a long table. She could see what they were working on, but she got the impression they weren’t there of their own free will. If it wasn’t the slumped shoulders or ragged clothing that gave it away, then it was definitely the ominous drones floating in the background.

Most of the rest of the facility seemed abandoned. But what was its purpose? How long had it been here? Why was no one here anymore? She tried accessing the databanks, but there was some serious encryption, and Zoey didn’t want to waste time trying to hack into it when she could be discovered at any time.

Instead, she went back to the elevator and pressed the button for the lowest floor. It started to descend, but, to her surprise, it stopped on the very next floor. She stood absolutely still as the door opened, and a drone floated into the elevator. The drone stared out ahead of itself, seemingly oblivious to her. Zoey didn’t dare move or call attention to herself.

The elevator seemed to move at a crawl, but it stopped at the next floor. The drone left unceremoniously. Zoey stepped out of the elevator, only to find herself in another hallway long abandoned by humans. The drone made its way leftward. It stopped before turning a corner. Suddenly aware that there was nowhere to hide, Zoey turned to find that the elevator’s door had already shut. Panicking, she quickly went into the room closest to the elevator before the drone turned around.

The room was dark, and Zoey couldn’t find anything that resembled a light switch. She dug into her backpack and found her flashlight. Its LED bulb cast a bluish hue onto the eerily quiet room. It looked like it was once a testing room of some kind. The far wall was lined with cramp animal cages, now empty. There was a long table going across the middle of the room. All of the important-looking equipment that once lay on the table was spread out on the floor, mostly in pieces.

Zoey pressed her ear against the wall in futile attempt to hear the drone outside. She started to count to ten, in the hopes of it being gone when she reached ten. She got to four before she heard something behind her, and the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end.

She didn’t move, but slowly turned her head to try and glimpse into the darkness of the room. There was the sound again, something crushing pieces of glass from a broken beaker. Zoey immediately turned off the flashlight, plunging the room into total darkness. She kept deathly still, but the sound continued, and was it her imagination, or was it coming closer?

Not waiting to find out, Zoey rushed out of the darkened room and right into the drone. Without hesitation, Zoey dodged past it and right into the awaiting elevator. As the elevator doors shut, she swore that she heard a strangled scream. Zoey just lay there on the floor of the elevator, heart thundering in her chest.

She was waiting for an army of drones to burst the door, through the infrastructure, all of them targeting her. Her brief stretch of existence wiped out by an intense light.

But nothing happened. Zoey wearily got up and pressed the button sending the elevator to the bottom floor. In seconds, the doors opened again to reveal an almost identical set of vacant corridors. As she stepped out of the elevator, Zoey couldn’t help wondering if this was all some sort of mind game.

Was she really on another level or the same one, over and over again? One could get lost in the maze of featureless walls. It was not a prospect Zoey was looking forward to.

If it was the lowest level, where were the drones? Were they all busy with the casket, or were they waiting in the ambush she feared was inevitable? The silence was unbearable. She peered cautiously down the hallway.

No one. Not a soul. But there were four people here somewhere, and she was going to find them. She started to open doors, slowly at first, and then finally stuck her head in when she was sure no one was there. There were storage areas, offices, even examination rooms. But she hadn’t found anyone yet, but at least no more darkened rooms like on the previous floor.

Zoey paused at one room in particular. It was a patient’s room with a tidy row of four beds. The sight of it reminded her of when she first woke up after the operation. Alone in an empty room like this with not even Doctor Zeitgeist himself to explain what he had done to her. Even though her other friends did not survive like her, she did not even find out about their deaths until much later, and she never did see their bodies again.

Zoey remembered the first time her mind, her new hybrid mind, reached out to communicate with the invisible data around her in the abandoned complex. She thought she was going insane as a flood of random images and words drowned out her own thoughts. There was maybe a short time when she was insane, convinced her own body had betrayed her, and she was scared and confused.

And then Sara found her, took care of her. Together, they learned what Zeitgeist had done to her and how she could cope with it. Zoey never asked Sara why she had helped Zoey. She was too grateful to question Sara’s actions or too afraid of what Sara’s answer might be. Just like she was afraid to actually see what Zeitgeist had done to her. She had flat out refused to have herself x-rayed or scanned in any way.

There were some things she was happy to not know about.

The thought of what she was now broke her reverie of the past. She closed the door and moved on. She continued down one hallway, but she felt convinced that it was a dead end. Frustrated, she went to the elevator and chose a different corridor. She found more of the same, but now, she heard something like raised voices, muffled behind closed doors.

The door slid open and she saw a table with four disheveled people working there. There were two drones floating overhead. For the first time since she entered the facility, Zoey tried to make contact with the drones. She projected urgent messages requiring the drones to go two levels up.

They moved silently, unquestioningly. The four captives noticed this and turned their heads as one. They all became silent as they watched their unlikely savior enter the room. Zoey took a deep breath and tried to think of something impressive to say.
“So, you’re the missing, um, people, right?” she said. That wasn’t quite what she had in mind.

“Who the hell are you?” asked a burly man with dark hair and bushy eyebrows.

“Me? I guess I’m here to rescue you,” she said with a smile. “Who are you guys anyway?”

The burly man let out a deep sigh. “And where have you been lately?”

“Up there actually,” Zoey replied, pointing upward. “I know who you are. I just don’t remember your names.”

“My name is Professor Robert McDonnell,” said the burly man. “This is Samanvaya Patel.” McDonnell indicated the tall Indian who, despite everything, had nicely trimmed hair and a matching mustache. “Across from me is Roger Brown, and that’s Alicia Dallas next to him.” A stout man with broad shoulders and a short woman with dusty-brown hair nodded their greetings.

“So, what happened to you guys? Why are you here?” asked Zoey.

“We don’t even know where ‘here’ is,” remarked Patel.

“We all got kidnapped the same way. There was a robot, but not like these little ones babysitting us. It was larger and looked a panther,” said McDonnell.

“Yes, its overall design was very aerodynamic. Its structure was based on feline creatures, I agree. I’d have given anything to see the internal mechanisms that made it so lithe. We’ve yet to perfect a humanoid robot that moves so natural,” said Brown.

“He’s the robotics expert, if you couldn’t tell,” remarked Dallas. “However amazing it was, it gassed each of us and carried us back here.”

“And if you somehow avoided the gas?” asked Zoey.

“The sharp claws weren’t for show, I’d imagine,” remarked Patel dryly. Zoey frowned at this but didn’t say anything.

“You’re the first living being we’ve seen since we’ve been kidnapped,” stated McDonnell.

“The first living human,” corrected Brown.

“So, what have you been doing all this time?” asked Zoey.

“The robots have been giving us diagrams and parts to assemble the most advanced pieces we’ve ever seen,” said Brown.

“Both Patel and I have experience making artificial limbs for amputees, and we’re both convinced that’s what we’re making,” stated McDonnell.

“Repairing,” said Patel. “It’s my belief that we’re repairing something, or else why not give us the whole device to make? Why these bits and pieces?”

“It doesn’t matter, because I’m getting you all out of here.” Zoey made her way to the captives when a voice came out of nowhere.

“Will Ms. Walker report to the casualty ward? Ms. Walker to the casualty ward.” The door opened, and a swarm of drones entered. “And don’t do anything funny, will you?”

“Who was that, and who is he talking about?” asked Dallas.

“I know that voice,” said Zoey to herself.

The drones led her down to the ward. She stepped into the sterile room, but the drones did not follow her in. In the corner was the remains of the discarded casket she had see earlier. Inside the casket were hoses and tubing attached to oxygen tanks. There also looked like the remains of an IV drip.

The chrome owl was there, sitting on its perch. “Do you like it? It keeps an eye on all of my creations,” came a familiar voice. Zoey turned away from the casket to take in the rest of the room.

There, on one of the slabs, was a man with torn clothes and torn skin. He was missing his left leg. The slab turned on its axis so that the man could see her face to face. His face was not familiar, but his voice sent chills down her back.

“It’s been a long time since we’ve had a chat,” said the man. He waved her closer. Underneath the torn skin, Zoey could see mechanical pistons moving like muscles. He was also missing his pinky finger.

“Zeitgeist.”

“We would have had this reunion sooner if not for certain circumstances.”

“Not long enough.” Her every instinct told her to run. Her stomach turned awkwardly with anxiety. She was nowhere near as ready for this than she thought she was.

“Rumors tell me that you were actually looking for me.” As Zoey got closer to him, his face seemed less and less real. Zeitgeist noticed this and said: “Go on.”

She hesitated and slowly reached up and took a hold of his face. She slowly peeled it off; his hair falling off onto the floor. It revealed a skull-shaped transparent jar. Its reflective surface made it hard for her to see details, but Zoey could make out that the skull was filled with a liquid, and his two eyes pressed against the surface of the container, peering into her soul.

She looked down into the inside of his facemask. Thin metal plates moved as he talked, giving the illusion of facial expression and that his jaw worked. His voice actually came from somewhere in his neck.

“Now,” said Zeitgeist. “What would you like to talk about?”

Click here to read Chapter 9

Written by J M Emmons. The story and all characters are copyrighted by J M Emmons.

Sunday Movie: TRON Legacy

The greatest irony about the twenty-something-years-late sequel to Disney's "TRON" is that it will be someday as dated as its predecessor. And that time is coming sooner than most would think.

Let's look at the film itself:

Slow-mo Matrix fighting: been done for the last decade.

The impressive soundtrack by Daft Punk: a product of its times as much as Wendy Carlos' score was in the '80s.

Computer graphics: "Legacy" is beautifully rendered, but nothing beyond what we're capable of nowadays. In fact, the all digital effects of the original "TRON" were groundbreaking, and, even now, the graphics are stylish and "retro"-ish.

The movie is available in 3D, which I saw, but there was no shot that was too impressive using this technology. I was more blown away by the 3D trailer to "Tangled" than the whole of "TRON Legacy."

The film itself is a nice nod to the original while being a fairly strong film on its own. It's borderline re-make/sequel territory that "Superman Returns" hovered around years prior. I feel that Bruce Boxleitner should have been given a bigger part, especially considering that he portrayed the title character in both films. Do we really need a story revolving around Old Jeff Bridges fighting Young Jeff Bridges? No one asked if David Warner wanted a cameo?

It's definitely "TRON" for a new generation, which may have been Disney's goal in the first place, but sometimes stories operate better in simplicity, and that, for me, describes the original "TRON."

Only Human Chapter 7: Persephone

Zoey was close to losing her mind, but the old fashioned television went a long way to deadening the pain. The beacon was still broadcasting; she could see it from the window of her low-rent apartment. The skyscraper the tower sat on was pristine but empty, hallowed out during one of many waves of economic turmoil.

Zoey could just barely keep out the eternal buzzing of the signal, like a migraine that wouldn’t end. All of her training was able to do was keep her conscious. The pain and nausea had killed her appetite and made sleeping impossible. The two days she had been there seemed endless.

She lay sprawled out on the dilapidated couch. Seemingly random images flickered across the small television. Zoey couldn’t concentrate anymore; she could only watch the sea of pixels dancing around, unaware of the larger picture or storyline.
Her own personal storyline had become a jumbled mess in her head. Delirious, on the second night, she tossed and turned on the couch. Sleep had again slipped through her fingers, and now, with bleary eyes, she turned and looked at the television to see Sean’s pixelated face staring at her.

“Hi,” the television said.

“You’re dead,” said Zoey. “I threw up at your funeral.”

“Don’t say things like that. It’s not funny.”

“Go away.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“Leave me alone,” said Zoey. “Everyone else has left me.”

“That’s why I came back. So you wouldn’t be alone.”

“You’re dead. You’re dead.” She shut her eyes tight.

“If I’m dead, why can I hold your hand?”

Zoey felt something warm envelope her hand.

“If I’m dead, why can I listen to your heart?”

Zoey felt something press against her chest.

“If I’m dead, why can I…?”

Zoey awoke with a start. The small room was dark. The television was either off or burnt out. She stumbled off the couch, trying to find a clock. It was two thirty in the morning, but which day? How long had she been suffering under her delirium?

Had everything been a dream?

The first thing she noticed was that the beacon was off. Her head was clear, like when a head cold finally broke. She walked over to the window. In the dead silence of the early morning, a silver halo hung over the building in question. The upper section of the building itself split into four parts, spreading out from the center. The machinery creaked like the inside of a clock tower but was surprisingly quiet despite the massive transformation.

Zoey looked at the streets below and saw not one soul who could have witnessed this strange sight. The silver object silently started to descend into the building. When it disappeared from sight, Zoey could feel it in her mind as it continued downwards. The building started to close up, creaking back into place.

Zoey grabbed her backpack and quickly changed into a pair of dark clothing that she had brought with her. Slinging the pack over her shoulder, she left the apartment and never looked back. She slipped an envelope of money under the door of the landlord and walked out onto the quiet streets.

She was reminded of the twilight hours that she spent on alien planets, wandering around and getting her bearings. Saving the world with Sara had allowed more free time than one would think, and Zoey would take in the sights whenever she could, despite the odd hours. Now, the abandoned streets of Downtown, America were now even more alien to her, and it was not lost on her.

She walked the street cautiously at first. She turned as a lone car drove by. She watched it until it disappeared around the bend. She continued on to the building in question. Not surprisingly, the doors were locked. It was a sturdy bolt lock and not an electric lock. She stepped back from the door and took a look around.

Around the side of the building, she noticed an opening between the side of the building and the cement sidewalk. She crouched down and tried to peer into the darkness. Failing that, she pulled a flashlight from her bag. She flashed a light through the slit and found an underground garage amid the shadows. The lot formed around a central column, probably housing the building’s elevator system. Or maybe the extraterrestrial craft.

Zoey got on her stomach and squeezed through the small slit. She grabbed her bag as she finally pushed her way into the garage and found herself on top of the hood of a car. As she got off of it, she lit the inside of the car: pristine except for a layer of dust. Were the cars just window dressing?

Then, Zoey came across a much, more sobering sight. Lying flat on its back was a dead body. Judging from his clothes, Zoey assumed he was a homeless vagrant just looking for somewhere to sleep. There was a small hole in his chest that went clean through his body. He had probably no idea what attacked him and was dead within seconds of the searing laser that pierced his vitals.

Zoey turned away in silence and headed toward the central column bathed in the scant lighting afforded by the garage. As she came closer, she felt a sudden impulse and ducked behind one of the cars. She glanced ahead and saw what she had felt. There was a small motion detector on the wall, hiding in plain sight.

Zoey could feel the signal dart out of the detector. The wall before her unfolded like a Chinese box being opened by invisible hands. Out of the opening came an armless and legless robot, hovering in the air. Zoey, hiding behind one of the car, glanced at it. Its long head came to a point, and its cyclopean eye scanned its surroundings.

Zoey stayed where she was, too scared to move. There was no question in her mind what caused the unfortunate death of the vagrant. After a tense ten seconds more, the drone went back into the hidden tunnel, and the wall closed up behind it. Zoey waited even longer before getting up from her hiding spot.

She kept low, edging her way farther and farther from the motion detector. She made her way around in a semi-circle until her back was against the column wall adjacent to the secret doorway. She pulled out the gun and pointed it at a trash bin conveniently within the motion detector’s range.

She took aim and fire. The recoil made her hand jump, and her shot went wide. Somewhere, a car alarm quietly beeped to itself. Placing both hands on the gun, she widened her stance and aimed at the bin again. The second time she fired and the trash bin jumped like someone had kicked it.

Zoey watched from the corner as the wall opened again, and the drone drifted out, searching for movement. Slowly, Zoey edged herself along the wall. Every second she slid by, Zoey’s eyes were glued on the drone. If it turned around too soon, she would have to make a break for it. Not that she thought she was quicker than the drone’s laser.
But she made it to the opening and slipped into the depths below.

Click here to read Chapter 8

Written by J M Emmons. The story and all characters are copyrighted by J M Emmons.

Sunday Movie: Broadcast News

This movie basically boils down to two outstanding qualities: dialogue and acting.

The script for "Broadcast News" is that rare blend of honesty and humor, infusing the story with a real human element. I feel, as I watch it, that I know these people, and that their lives are real. Maybe that's because Holly Hunter, William Hurt, and Albert Brooks bring these characters to life with such conviction. (Not that the rest of the cast is inferior in any way.)

In truth, if the story was not centered around the newsroom, I might not be interested in the film. Rewatching the film, I wondered how people today, who viewed this film, would discern the clunky VHS tapes, small analog screens, outdated reporters' morality, and corporate massive layoffs?

Certainly, watching the anchor sit straight-faced and reading the news would confuse young viewers. Why should Holly Hunter's character be upset with how Hurt's character faked his reaction during a piece on date rape? Isn't the news fake to begin with? When Hurt's character ad-libs at the end of the story, stating his opinion, why does the news chief say, "Like anyone cares what you think."? Isn't "news" and "opinion" synonymous?

Whether the movie is well-made or not, it represents an important time for "broadcast news" where facts are slowly traded for theatrics. As the director says in his commentary, for better or worse, that is where the news industry is now.

Make of that as you will. And enjoy this wonderful film.