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The Spectrum, by aria bell

 

 

 

 

 

It’s going to rain for the first time in seven years in LA. The government funded Weather Modification Program begins today, and the media frenzy has spared no expense to broadcast the miracle live to all sectors. The welcome hum of cloud seeding drones above is obscured only by the air of anxious anticipation from the crowds gathered outside. As with all government initiatives, this is a well planned and proper effort. And accordingly, the citizens are eerily hopeful standing in the dust and waiting for the first droplets to fall.

 

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It wasn’t always like this. Years ago, the lofts downtown had been gutted and built out targeting affluent professionals working in the nearby skyscrapers. It didn’t take long until that cushy ideal was destroyed by LA’s ephemeral and always creative criminal element. What remains now is barely recognizable; buildings are exoskeletons, deceiving and mysterious. These days, perception is no longer everything.

My name is Natalya Senkova; I’m originally from the now closed city of Bratislava in Slovakia. I somehow managed to escape before the nanite invasion in 2056 with my freedom of thought intact. I can’t say the same for anyone else I knew from before. We can still text each other but nobody is allowed in or out since, and every transmission is monitored. Back at home I was pretty typical, in and out of college, working seasonal jobs mostly waitressing in the summer and then tech support over the frozen winters.

The invasion changed everything, and it was all due to insatiable greed. When most of the world’s governments realized the potential for catastrophe and outlawed nanite self-replication, Slovakia never followed suit with actual enforcement. All you had to do was pay the right people and you were free to do whatever you wanted, undetected. All it took was one software bug and the infection started. As a result, every border is guarded by white7 nanite… swarms until every single double-black viral nanite is found.

Technology was starting to get dangerous and this was only one area of concern. There were massive advances in physics over the last two decades, and crude particle teleportation has become a reality, albeit quite expensive very inaccurate. Since the lines between nano and bio are all but blurred together, there is a continuous threat to the spectrum. Destructive particles travel via quantum entanglement into targeted atmospheres undetected; once your blood stream is infected it’s too late, or worse.

Here I work for the Bureau of Frequency Control. My job is to monitor, detect, and destroy threats to all frequencies on the spectrum. The agency I’m with is small but we have some of the most powerful computers in the private sector doing our bidding. It’s exciting, and very easy to forget how dangerous things can be.

When I woke up this morning before the alarm, my kitty was out of food and on the case. He has this magic way of gently easing me from my slumber to inform me of his dire situation, too cute for words. The news ticker on my bathroom mirror dutifully reminded me of today’s rain and mapped my alternative route to work avoiding the crowds. My morning ritual is this: coffee and grapefruit while I read email, cat food for young Max, shower, dress, pray I properly parked my car on the charging port, and I’m off. Today would be very different, I didn’t know it when I left for work but nothing would ever be the same.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Do you ever get the feeling you are being followed? The extra sensory awareness when you know someone or thing is watching. And the tiny hairs standing battle ready on your arms dutifully let you know you’re not alone. It was more that that though –but what? An unbearably hot and dry morning and now with a solid case of the creeps, that’s what. Perfect.

The crowds outside mobbed every street, doorway, entrance, park, coffee shops, you get the idea – it was claustrophobia at its best. Some groups chanting for it to rain, others naturalists were picketing against the ‘evil manipulation of nature’. All the freaks were out and in full effect; a complete media and civilian assault to contend with first thing in the morning.

The smell from the food stalls was beckoning me when I saw it; a silhouette barely materialized taking the shape of a human then dissipating back into the air? A faint glow, definite human form, fluid and –translucent. Why did I recognize him, it?

The hairs on my arms stood up again, and my cheeks flush as I begin to hear a whisper. Barely audible but definitely there; what language is that? Never mind – I’m probably just losing my mind. I might not have noticed any of this a few months ago, but my field training taught me well. Every little detail, no matter how small, is important. Few people made the transition from an analyst to a field operative, but there was a shortage of women in the field.

But right now all I want is breakfast, Nasi Lemak to be exact (rice with fried fish, chicken wing, cucumber and an egg) from my favorite Malay food hawker Mr. Noodles. “Natalia, good morning, crazy today!” as Mr. Noodles waved me over to his stall and began wrapping up my plate to go, with an extra wing –my favorite part. “Looks terrible Mr. N, I’m going to have to eat this immediately and report back to you tomorrow.” We smiled an unspoken ‘until tomorrow’ at each other and I headed off to my car.

I buckled in, punched in my destination, saw the familiar Spectrum’s splash screen on my dash computer, and set the trip to auto pilot so I could listen to my messages whilst enjoying my extra wing undisturbed. The first message was from my team leader Sasha reminding me to dial in for the morning call, next up my best friend Milky Lee trying to get me to “proooomise” to meet her later at a new club in Korea Town. That was exactly what I needed after this morning’s weirdness; the comfort of the familiar. I’d known Milky since the first day I arrived in the States, I was a fish out of water and there she was like my guardian angel in black nail polish. Thanks for so much Milky.

Today’s meeting seemed normal enough on the outside, we all reported status on our individual projects, new projects were assigned, everyone joked and drank coffee. Somehow though, the video conference seemed strained, something about Sasha, he didn’t seem like himself. Nothing I could put my finger on (did he look faded maybe?) and for all I know it was just me being paranoid about hallucinating (?) earlier this morning.

Before wrapping up the call I yelled “Hey Sasha, how about tomorrow we get some dinner. I’ll cook” “Sure Tali, I’ll be there at eight, want me to bring anything?” “Nope, just your charming (possibly morphing) self” I said. We could talk more about that later.

I had been working the same case for the past three months, it’s been a slow process but I’m finally beginning to make a little headway. The company I’m assigned to watch is called SkySat. They are a startup using a portion of the spectrum with a high transfer rate of 37.6 GHz that is pre-allocated strictly for space research. Not cheap mind you, and for a startup? I’d sure like to know who their venture capitals were and why they were willing to help SkySat launch private satellites. And how exactly they qualify for space research? Or more likely, who they paid off. Finding out which orbital track they occupied would be a small start.

Armed with my fancied up CV, technical skills, and a few stellar recommendations I was finally able to obtain a mid-level position in their Operations department. My access was restricted but that could be dealt with later — right now I had all the visibility I needed to do my work. This morning, I was off to SkySat’s mammoth compound for my first day.

As I approached the gate and offered my thumb to the scanner, the metal clamped shut surrounding my entire car and a recording blared for me to “Please remain in my vehicle, an attendant would be with me shortly”. My nerves kicked in at high alert as my instincts noticed there was no way to escape.

A tall man entered the cage typing away on a handheld. Without looking up he asked me the secret word, then looked me square in the face and scanned my iris with his retinal implant. That was a new one. I started to ask what this was about and he cut me off to say some information had come to light regarding my work history. All I know is that “interesting” sounded very bad to me and I began to panic. Then like nothing at all, the gates raised and Captain Creepy Eyeball retreated back to his dark corner and unfortunately was not hit by a bullet. I was free to go; “Sorry for the misunderstanding Miss Senkova.”, Yeah I bet you are.

Off I went, secure in the fact that should these people decide something twisted must be done with me, Milky and Sasha would both be looking for me. The SkySat Business Complex was an accumulation of small to giant structures giving the unwelcoming effect of a military base. Dark secrets loomed on this part of Earth. I parked in a visitor’s lot and walked up the long manicured walkway to what looked like several inch thick bullet proof glass doors. I buzzed, noticing how other areas were equally as dreary as the entrance was pristine. Poor attempt at a thinly veiled positive first impression.

Reception was a whole other story. I announce my name and the doors opened up to a beautifully designed reception area. Buffed marble floors led me to supple leather couches and a beautifully carved mahogany table offered me a variety of lotus flower teas, the kind that bloom into colorful flowers when you pour hot water on them. Impressive. Almost immediately, a man in his mid forties appeared and introduced himself as Amar, a nervous type –disheveled. No match between old Amar and the décor either.

As we headed to the Operations Building, we stopped off at Security where I was scanned, voice printed, assigned access permissions, given a password, and my photo ID badge to be worn at all times.

The Operations Building had no windows or flowery reception teas. It was a giant concrete box with a nervous system made from overloaded server racks, tangled cables, and the hum of electricity that comes along with too much data being processed. The back wall was lined with large LCD monitors displaying different monitoring tools and dynamically changing graphs; in front of that was a row of cubicles where Amar pointed mine out. Basically my job was to work in their NOC. Monitoring systems and satellites, making sure they were up and functioning properly; replacing hardware and regular server maintenance on the 2-10P swing shift.

 

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A few months back The Spectrum began to detect chatter on one of the frequencies slotted for space research. We began to decrypt a pattern of double-black nanite mentions in conjunction with a company called SkySat. We were now infiltrating with the hopes this could lead us to the source of double-blacks and most importantly who was responsible for the invasion of 2056. My plan was to lay low, be dependable and responsible — gain as much trust and access as possible.

I spent most of that first day familiarized myself with SkySats’s systems, sorting access codes, learning server naming conventions, and configuring my workstation as efficiently as possible. There was a lot to do and I had my head steadily buried understanding how their Operations department worked, ticketing systems, escalation procedures, monitoring tools, and online documentation. I was startled out of deep concentration when Amar asked me if I’d like to take a walk to show me where the café was located a few buildings down. Excited at the prospect of a latte, I jumped a little too enthusiastically at the offer.

Small talk on our walk, and from shrubbery across the path, I was distracted again by that same translucent image from earlier this morning in my periphery. Sloppy particles desperately attempting to come together and form a human shape; and the whispers again –still inaudible. I was reminded of Sasha, how he seemed slightly off and visually faded on our videoconference. I felt an urgent need to talk to him but no cell phones at cozy little SkySat.

We reached the café and each got one to go, on him, and headed back to ops building. I finished my day with a series of end of shift tasks, touched base with Amar about any outstanding questions and headed off the compound at about 10:30PM, not forgetting to flash a winning smile at Creepy Eyeball Man on my way out. A giggly message from Milky said to meet her at Yuu Yuu Karaoke; I could already hear the silly engrish versions of pop songs in the background. I couldn’t get there fast enough but of course the freeway was jammed up. All these years and the amount of people in LA still eclipsed any advances we’ve managed in civil engineering.

I figured I’d take this opportunity to check in with the handsome Sasha give him an update on my first day at SkySat. He picked up right away but looked nervous or shaken up still, said we’d talk tomorrow at dinner. Something was definitely wrong and now I was officially worried.

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