Darkworld: Earth

2.25.

The black-haired boy pressed a finger to the lock and waited patiently as the nanites countered the simple mechanical protection. In just a few seconds, he heard a click, and he opened the door, gaining access to the County Social Services office. He glanced around for security cameras, but there was nothing. He shook his head at the lack of security.

But then, that was the very reason he had selected this plan to begin with.

It had taken some time to come up with this idea, but he had asked some questions of the other street children and adults that he’d encountered and come up with a solution.

Living on the streets was miserable. While he would endure it if there were no other options, there were other options. The problem wasn’t that he had no place to go. The problem was that all of the options that were available to other children in his position would reveal that he had no past.

So he had to acquire a past.

He pulled from his pocket a flash drive that he had converted into a Rocktala. It had taken him some time and effort to make Rocktalas compatible with Earth computers, but they were ultimately based on the same principals. It was easier for a Rocktala to speak with a computer than it was for a rocktala to communicate with the holographic interphased thinking machines that High-Command and most of the galaxy used.

After all, Rocktalas also worked based on binary, unlike the more advanced computer systems. While they were far more limited, they could be crafted readily by simple nanite patters rather than requiring advanced manufacturing techniques or a replicator.

He opened the door of a random social worker and went to work. He plugged the flashdrive into the computer and allowed it to take over. The Rocktala bypassed the BIOS, defeated the encryption, and accessed the folder all in about twenty minutes while Eodar nervously kept watch. Finally, he sighed in relief as he was inside the county’s computer network.

From there, he had to do some research. He looked at some of the other case files of children his age who were in the system, making notes of some of the similarities and differences. He spent almost two hours doing the research that he would require to put up a believable act, then he switched over and created a new folder.

Rather than write his own story, he copy/pasted excerpts from other files, mixing and matching the stories of other children to create his own.

Once he had his story established, he ordered the Rocktala to penetrate the other computer systems to begin installing the supporting documents that would back up his fake past. Within an hour he had a birth certificate, school records, and a list of former foster homes that didn’t actually exist.

He withdrew from the office an hour before dawn, but he didn’t go very far. He waited for the office to open again, then he simply walked back in side. He went up to the receptionist, who was still settling in for the day, and he put on his best repentant look.

“I’m done running away now,” he told her. “I’m sorry. Can you help me find a new home?”

~~~~~~

“Are you Kirk P. Desmond?” the man in black asked, and immediately Kirk’s self-preservation instincts kicked in. He had answered the door in his underwear, and now stood face to face with what looked like an agent from a stereotypical no-such-agency film.

“Who’s asking?” he demanded, trying not to sweat.

“I represent Trefold Aeronautics. My name is Brett Peterson. I’m sorry if my appearance startles you, but the whole MIB thing is part of the corporate look. I assure you that I’m not as scary as I look.”

“Uh-huh. What do you want?” Kirk demanded.

“Well, to be honest, we want your spaceship,” Brett answered.

“My what?”

“The Yonohoans have finished manufacturing it and it just arrived in system. We at Trefold would like to purchase it from you for the purposes of reverse engineering it,” Brett explained. “We’ve tried to request one from the aliens directly, but they’re proving difficult to negotiate with. It seems that the part of their delegation that you interacted with operates under different rules than the one assigned to corporate entities. We did check with them, however, and they have no problem with you selling the ship to us as long as we provide sufficient remuneration and you are pleased with the transaction.”

“Remunerwhatnow?” Kirk asked.

“Money, Kirk. Trefold Aeronautics wants to pay you a lot of money for the space ship that the aliens want to give you,” Brett clarified.

“How much money?” Kirk asked.

“How does one hundred million dollars sound?” Brett inquired.

Kirk’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “It sounds like I won the lottery,” he admitted.

“Yes sir, I was hoping you’d say that.”

“It also sounds like I should maybe look around and see if anyone else is interested in putting in a bid,” Kirk pointed out.

“I see. It would be most disappointing if we lost your ship to one of our competitors, but I understand your desire to get the best price. I’ll give you my card. You can do your research. But I assure you, we are willing to match any price given to you,” Brett said. He handed Kirk a business card.

“Have a pleasant day,” Brett said, and then he walked away, leaving Kirk to rush into his computer and begin researching who the competitors of Trefold Aeronautics were, as well as anyone else who might want to buy a spaceship.

“I really thought that alien bastard was just kidding,” he said to himself. “Werlian you crazy bastard, you actually came through on this?”

~~~~~~

The Yonohoan’s children show ended. Like a show from Earth, they always concluded with the credits, except that only the actors were named. And they were more than named. Each listed actor gave a small autobiographical segment explaining their life up until they were chosen for the program.

It was quaint, and Sarah had taken to watching the credits with as much interest as the program itself.

When the program ended, an icon lit up in the middle of the air informing Sarah that Trenola wished to speak with her at her earliest convenience. Sighing, Sarah accepted the call and the hologram of her doctor appeared.

“Hello, Sarah. How are you feeling today?” the Yonohoan asked cheerfully.

“It’s getting better,” Sarah admitted. “Sometimes I still find myself denying that it happened. That he hadn’t shattered my heart and exposed all of the lies I’d been telling myself. I find myself wanting to hate him for it, but from an objective standpoint I know that he does care for me and that’s why he had to do what he did.”

“Diego does indeed care for you as a former member of the crew and a friend, Sarah,” Trenola agreed.

“And it will never be more than that. I know. I hate it, but I know,” Sarah said.

“How are you finding life on planet Totola, Sarah?” Trenola inquired.

“I love it here,” Sarah admitted. “But I also miss my family and want to go home. I know that you won’t let me go until I’m well again, but sometimes I feel like you’re keeping me hostage here.”

“I see,” Trenola said. “Well, Sarah, I have news. I’m not entirely certain how you’ll react, but be assured that I will not be surprised or upset no matter what your response is. You see, your government has been growing rather more insistent that you and the other patients be returned to them. They have expressed concerns that we are not adequately seeing to your needs.”

Sarah processed the words for a moment, then she began to laugh. “Those bastards just want to fry my brain on their MRIs and PETscans so that they can figure out whether or not the Tunnel Drive is really as dangerous as it is or if I’m a freak case.”

“They have assured us that is not the case,” Trenola said. “And they have promised to keep the Yonohoan medical experts involved in your care once you return to Earth. I believe that we have done everything that we can do for you at this time, Sarah. Except for the experimental treatment, which you have expressed concerns with attempting. If you wish to return to Earth, perhaps now is the time. We can always arrange for you to be returned to us at a later time to continue your treatment, and I believe that a return to a familiar environment will be good for you.”

“I’ll think about it, Doc. How long do I have to decide?” Sarah asked.

“I am in no hurry. It is your government that has ‘ants in their pants,’” Trenola explained.

“Yeah, okay. Well, tell them that you talked to me about it and I’ll make up my mind whether or not I want to change my environment,” Sarah said.

“I will relay your words. Be well, Sarah,” Trenola said, and her hologram vanished.

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