Project James CH1

CHAPTER 1

THURSDAY, AUGUST 3RD 2000

Patrick Barker could not believe his luck. He had just spent five hours in a small room having a meeting with the board of directors for New Life Robotics Inc. trying to explain to them his project, his dream, of creating a machine with the mind of a human. One that can think and feel and learn the way an organic being can.

There were ten members of the board, all in between the ages of fifty and sixty-five, and all complete idiots when it came to the progressive nature of science. To Patrick it was him in a room with judgemental strangers who somehow were able to bribe, steal and cheat their way to power. And all held that power over him.

While he thought he was explaining it quite well he could tell that for the first two to three hours they seemed uninterested. He didn’t want to compromise his speech, this was his vision. But if he didn’t then there would be no vision, no project. So in the final few hours he changed it a bit and told them of the possible monetary applications if he was successful, as if he was talking of a product to be sold to the masses. He hated himself later but with this they perked up and got more interested, talk of money they can gain and anyone will become interested. But he was still unsure of the outcome.

When he was finished the board was polite but mostly silent and they told him he would get an answer within twenty-four hours. He left the room feeling mostly satisfied with his presentation except for the change into financial gain, which he hated, but believed he would still get a ‘no’ from them, or at least enough of them for it to count. He walked through a grey carpeted hall towards the elevators and pushed the down button and waited. He heard the ding of the elevator’s arrival and the doors opened a second later. He stepped aside as three people got off then he entered and pressed the ground floor button.

Before the doors could close a hand reached through and they stopped, then after a beat they opened again. On the other side stood a man Patrick had known for years. His name was Simon Ferris and he too worked for New Life Robotics Inc. but in a completely different department. He was basically a liaison between the board of directors to everyone else in the company. He was not there during Patrick’s meeting but Patrick had seen him walking towards the room just after he left. He talk between them must not have been long. Patrick guessed maybe just a few words back and forth.

“I hear it went well,” said Simon. He smiled and sounded happy and hopeful.

Patrick grumbled, with a look at Simon he told him that while he felt hopeful he thought the answer he would get wasn’t going to be the one he wanted. Simon got that in a second and nodded. His smile didn’t go away but changed; it slipped at the corners a little and quickly morphed into an apologetic one. He patted Patrick on the back and told him it would be fine. Patrick certainly appreciated it and thanked him.

When the doors opened again it was the ground floor, they both walked out side-by-side where Patrick continued towards the entrance/exit glass doors and Simon turned and disappeared into a crowd. They exited through a large reception area. It had a black marble floor, basic white interior walls and a glass exterior. The reception desk was a giant wide semi-circle structure made from mahogany, with a glass partition separating her physically and mentally from everyone else. The receptionist had plenty, almost too many, files and books on the desk but all were hidden from view until one was right up against the desk. It was large enough for two people to use but there was only one receptionist. A young dark haired woman by the name of Cassandra, who, in Patrick’s eyes, seemed to be at home in the constant hustle of the work and the barrage of people needing her, wanting her help.

Patrick zigzagged his way through a throng of men and women in expensive suits of grey and black and the occasional navy blue, and went through the glass door out the building onto the street. It was a very busy street filled with people the exact same as the ones inside; the same suits and the same look of being in their own little world. To Patrick they looked like drones.

His car was parked across the road and a few feet to the left. The traffic was stalled so he was able to run across between the narrow spaces between cars without hassle, he made it to his car just as traffic started moving again. He was stuck in parking space for a while as no one would let him join the now slow moving traffic; he had to wait until someone was far enough behind that he could get out. Once he was out he made slow but steady progress out the busy areas, leaving behind the glass towers in favour of smaller simpler building made from brick and stone and concrete.

He ended at a dead-end street with small one-storey houses on both sides of it, and one at the small circle of road at the end. His house was the one at the end, it was a family home and while he had enough money for a place worth three times it he had no desire to leave the house. Too many memories and not enough reasons to leave. He parked his car in the driveway and got out the car.

That was when his day, his luck, changed.

He got his house keys out his right pocket but before he unlocked and opened his front door his mobile phone rang. It was a small grey Nokia 3210 he had bought just last week. He answered it while opening his door.

“Hello?”

“Hey Patrick this is Simon.”

“Oh hello Simon.” Replied Patrick, his voice was high and pleasant but he did not feel that way. His mind went towards the negative: bad news from the board, or something worse like a family or friend just died. He did this a lot but never spoke a word.

“I have news about your project.”

‘I knew it…and wow that actually was fast’ thought Patrick, ‘and since this will be my answer from the board then it is a definite no’.

But then he just realised something about Simon and what he said, or, more to the point, how he said it. He sounded as if he was trying to hide something. If fact Patrick thought he was actually…holding in a laugh.

“Well…? What’s the news?” Patrick could not contain himself; he was both scared and excited. His future was in this phone call.

He could hear Simon taking breathes and he knew he was holding back for dramatic effect, something he had done a few times before and Patrick started to get hopeful. Simon only did this when it was good news and perhaps this would be no different.

It wasn’t different.

“The board said yes!”

The next thirteen seconds were Patrick screaming in joy with his free hand raised high above his head and hearing Simon laugh through the phone. To and outsider watching they would have thought he either found out his wife was pregnant, he had beaten cancer, or his favourite sports team won a game. Once he had calmed down he thanked Simon at least half a dozen times and ended the call, then seconds later he made his own call to another friend and colleague Dr Samantha Larson. She answered on the third ring.

“Hello?”

“Samantha, it’s me Patrick.”

“Patrick hey, how did it go?”

Patrick smiled and when he spoke that smile could be heard in his voice, “Project James is officially a go.”

SATURDAY, JUNE 13TH 2020

There was a fire. A large plain square four- storey building twenty-five minutes from the city was burned to the ground, flames everywhere, heat like a furnace being emitted from it even at a large distance. When the emergency services were called and three fire trucks and an equal number ambulances sent out the fire had already burned for an hour and a half.

The fire was discovered by a woman driving by heading into the city, it was dark so she could not see smoke from a distance but she saw the flickering light of the fire. She turned onto a dirt road and drove up as far as she could until she had to stop when she reached a big wire fence that went all the way around the building in a square shape and had a space for an entrance-slash-exit in and out the building and its ten car parking lot. There was a small security booth between the two poles, there was no one inside. All the spaces were filled. The entrance lane was blocked off by a long white metal pole held up in the centre, but the exit pole was standing straight up. After getting over the shock of witnessing the fire she reached into her purse and called emergency services. The man on the line sounded calm and composed which was good because at first she was not. She was jumpy and scared and barely finished a sentence. But after being told to take a deep breath and tell him what was happening she calmed down and did just that. The man on the line told her he was sending the fire trucks and ambulances.

Due their high speed the fire brigade arrived eighteen minutes after the call ended. The trucks were able to fit in through the exit lane and once inside they split up and went towards the flames as close they dared from three separate directions. Once stopped everyone got out the trucks, orders were shouted and obeyed immediately, masks were put on and water hoses were taken. Less than a minute after the trucks stopped all hoses were spraying water into the building trying to put an end to the fire. It was slow work, the fire was raging and at first the hoses did little to halt it. But after eight hours of work they made good progress and were able to cautiously enter through the front door. After another three hours it was early morning and the fire was nothing but smoke and ash.

From what was left the firemen guessed it was some kind of flat with several homes containing at least one person in each home. There were couches and tables and beds and TVs, kitchens and bathrooms. All together only a tiny amount of it all was just slightly singed and still useable. The firemen all wondered what a flat was doing so far from the city and why it looked so generic, but no one wondered for too long. They had a job to do.

They found a total of fifteen people. All dead, all burned to a crisp beyond recognition, and some don’t have enough teeth left for identification. More ambulances and coroner vans were called in to transport the bodies back to the city.

By 11:36 AM ninety percent of the people that were at the fire, including the woman who called it in, were either on their way to the city or already there. The only ones left were the fire inspector trying to determine the cause of it and a few remaining firemen searching the wreckage for something others might have missed, another body maybe. But all they found was dust and soot and the remains of twelve lives.

By 12:00 PM news vans had arrived on the scene to talk about the fire and try to get interviews. All got a simple answer or two from whomever they interviewed. It was done on camera either live on whatever news channel they belonged to or just recorded it for later.

By 2:27 PM everyone including the news people had left.

Moments before the fire had started a lone figure had left the building. He had jumped through a first storey window and ran without breaking stride. He ducked under the pole along the entrance lane and ran in the direction of the city, staying clear of the main road. He was scared and constantly looked back at the building, his home. He was small and thin, a young boy of maybe thirteen or fourteen. The last time he looked back he saw the small orange-yellow glow of the fire starting to take hold. He had a good speed, even when he slowed as his head turned to look at the building. He made it to the city long before the emergency services were called. He wandered aimlessly from one street to the next, not really sure where he was going or what he was looking for. He seemed afraid of everything, every noise caused him to jump, and every slight movement caused him to run in the opposite direction. There were a few times when one or more person(s) would be coming towards him or walking on the other side of the street and he would panic and hide in an empty alley, then wait for them to be gone and run off.

He had never been to the city before, or been outside his former home before. Sure he had seen pictures or been given descriptions of things, but seeing a picture and seeing the real thing was entirely different.

While trying to calm his young mind down he figured what he would need first. He needed a set of clothes. His father had told him once to hide as best he could, and dressing like everyone else was a good starting point. He looked around the dark street, scanning every building around him, until his eyes come across it in one at a forty-five degree angle from his current position. He rushed towards it. It was a clothing store called Debenhams and was closed; all the lights were off and the front door was locked. The boy looked through the windows, scanning everything, searching through for whatever can hide him. He stopped as his eyes fell on a mannequin standing just on the other side of the glass. The mannequin was posing with the left leg straight and the right one slightly bent, left hand outstretched at the elbow and right hand on the hip and his head slightly turned clockwise. It was taller than the boy and was standing on a wooden ledge, so the boy had to crane his neck to look the mannequin in the face. He first moved his body to mimic the mannequin’s stance, then he smiled and waved at the mannequin, as if it was a real person, but dropped his hand when he saw that the mannequin wasn’t moving, just an inanimate object.

He quickly found what he needs:

Item 1: hooded jumper, basic grey, nothing printed on it, one size higher than required.

Item 2: blue jeans stylised to be faded at knees, one size higher than required.

Suggested action: use belt to tighten

Item 3: pair of size 8 Nike trainers, perfect size.

With the items in sight he looked around for anyone in sight. There was no one. He hesitated and looked sad again, as if something was wrong.

“I’m sorry father,” he said. His voice still had that youthful sound before age would force it down an octave or two.

He pulled his right arm back and slammed it into the window. The window centre shattered and fell while the rest cracked in a spider web pattern. He couldn’t help but jump back and yelp, and he came close to falling over backwards but was able to stay on his feet. He had never done anything like this before. When the shock of what he had done was gone the boy climbed through the big hole into the store, clambering over the now fallen mannequin. He gently placed his hand on the mannequin’s head and apologised to it, again as if it was alive. Then he gathered up the clothes he had chosen, including a brown leather belt, and one by one he put them on. As he lowered the hooded jumper over his upper body and pushed his arms through the sleeve holes, the fabric glided along his smooth shiny metallic skin.

Most of his small form was covered in a transparent form of aluminium moulded to act like the skin of whatever piece it is; an arm, the outer thigh, the lower abdomen. All of which revealed the interconnectivity of his workings within. There are hydraulic mechanisms, and the wirings, the pipes and small pieces in constant motion. The rest of his body, especially the joints, was covered by white metal armoured plates. His head was smooth and where ears would be there were a set of small holes containing audio listening devices that let his hear everything but also record them simultaneously, his face was built in a separate form to the rest of the head so that it could rotate 90 degrees either side without the head itself turning.

Once the clothes have covered his metal form he left the shop the same way he entered. Now with one problem sorted he had another that needed attention: a place to hide. He had no idea of the city’s geography but he had mapped out all his movements since entering the city and what was on each street. There were a few streets her had passed by that were housing estates but he wasn’t sure about going there, they might not have any empty houses. He needed a large empty space, somewhere that no one would go to.

It was close to morning when he found what he was looking for. He had scanned a total of 112 different streets he passed for signs of empty homes and abandoned buildings with no positive results. The streets he walked through slowly changed. Going from nice streets that although were a little dirty and had rubbish at places were quite clean to then becoming increasingly dirty and the building were older and were burned and blackened in places. They looked like they should no longer be standing. Another change was that there were more people hanging around the dilapidated streets. Though the mechanical boy stayed away from them for fear of being discovered even with the new clothes hiding him, he still looked at them occasionally, studied them. He was fascinated by them.

The suitable building he found was tall and made of brick. It was a flat with eight homes within, two per floor. What made this place suitable was that only five homes were occupied, the other three had been emptied when the owners of them left and no one else claimed them. He knew this because when he scanned the building for heat signatures he found five empty of heat. There was a group of people near the flat; some were standing near the front entrance while the rest was sitting with their backs to the wall. The boy then realised that it was one but two groups. He looked for the right words to describe each group and quickly found them for one but not the other. The group sitting at the wall to the side was one of squatters and homeless people. The other group was harder to place. They were young: mid-to-late-teens maybe early twenties, they wore clothes similar to what the boy was wearing except they had added a little more like small chains or nondescript baseball caps and some had black leather jackets instead of hoodies. Their stances and movements and what little the boy can hear told him they were people to steer clear of but he did not know why, he had been taught much about human nature be it the good or bad side of said nature. The homeless men paid him no attention but the small gang stopped talking amongst themselves and stared at him as he walked up to the door. Though his body was hidden under the clothes and he did not glance at them he still believed they all had their eyes on him as he passed by. Once he was inside they resumed conversing, there was a short concrete hall straight ahead with the door to a home on each side and to the left concrete stairs going up to the wall then with a U-turn another going up to the second set of homes. He climbed the first set of stairs to the second floor and walked to the door on the right, the first empty one. The door was locked but the hinges were rusty and he broke through the door lock easily. He closed the door again once he was inside.

There was no light on inside and when he tried to turn one on nothing happened, no electricity. There was enough light coming from outside for him to see around him. A quick look around told him that heat and occupants were not the only thing missing from the apartment. There were no personal items of any kind, to chairs or tables, no televisions, no pictures or carpets. Nothing but what came with the apartment when it was built. The only thing that told him someone had lived in the apartment was the greasy old plain blue wallpaper that was so old it was turning yellow in large spots and peeling off the walls.

He entered what would be the living room, it was small and had a hardwood floor like the rest of the apartment, and there was a long sliding window on the far wall that seemed to be the only clean thing in the room. The boy walked towards it stared out the window for a few seconds before backing away afraid of being spotted.

Feeling safer now more than ever since escaping the fire he analysed events from the past twenty four hours. The fire, its cause, all that fear and running and all those deaths. He knew he had to stay safe for his father. Stay hidden from those who caused all this. But he had no idea of what he really should do. He was just a boy.

His name was James.