Hello Protocol for Dead Girls Page 11

  “Granger Hall? Why would I go there when I was studying?”

  “Police said you likely went out for a walk. It was a nice night, and when you were studying, you often took a walk to refresh your brain.”

  “I remember having the intention of staying in all night,” I recall. “I made sure I had enough snacks and I put the Studying sign on the door handle so no one would come knocking.”

  “I didn’t like that theory, either,” Elly says. “It didn’t feel right. But they said people who are close to a situation like this never see it objectively.”

  “Was there no evidence? DNA, hairs, fibers, security video, something?” I pause because the next words are hard to say. “Even…fingerprints or finger marks on my neck?”

  I hate the idea of having been strangled.

  “No,” she says. “The police aren’t releasing anything publicly because it’s an ongoing investigation, but your parents tell me whatever they tell them. But so far, they have nothing. The papers rushed to a conclusion when they called it a strangling. After the…the autopsy…we found out you died of a crushed windpipe, not strangulation. You had visible trauma to your neck, which is why they reported it that way. And that’s what made your memory so important. Knowing what you knew might be the only way of finding out…” she stumbles over her words. “What happened to you.”

  “Could it have been an accident?” I ask. Oddly, I feel hopeful. A terrible accident would be better than a murder.

  “The police have been very reluctant to give us any theories. Maybe they’re afraid we’ll spoil their investigation by saying something publicly. Or maybe they just don’t want us to know how little they’ve found out. But that’s why we had to do the memory upload.”

  “And how did that turn out?”

  “They say it takes time to interpret the digital copy of the memory engrams. We’ve all just been waiting for answers.”

  “It’s been months,” I mutter. “Why would it take this long?”

  An icy feeling goes through me and I add, “Unless they can’t solve it. Maybe they’re not reporting because they’ve got nothing to report.”

  I strengthen my voice. Elly doesn’t need to hear my doubts. I’m sure she has plenty of her own. “I’m negotiating for the memories,” I say confidently. “I hope to have them back soon. Then we can figure it out.”

  “I hope so,” she says fervently. “Finding out won’t change anything, but at least there would be answers and we could stop obsessing over the questions.”

  “And then you can all move on,” I say bleakly.

  And I’ll still be here. They’ll move on, because life is for the living. But what about me?

  “I believe you,” she says suddenly. “I believe it’s you, Jen. I don’t know the technical bits, but I know you, and I won’t let you be alone. Okay?”

  She believes in me. She knows I’m real.

  Something inside me loosens, then expands. Elly believes I’m real, therefore, I feel more real. It’s a trippy existential reality thing, but just her believing in me makes me feel truly real.

  She’s my best friend for good reason.

  I say, “That’s the best thing I’ve heard since before I died.”

  Maybe, somehow, I can still get a happy ending to my life. I don’t know what that would look like or what it would mean, but as of this moment, I have hope.

  19

  Corruption

  “I have your memory file,” Jim says without preamble when he contacts me.

  I’m surprised. I thought this would be another check-in. “That’s good,”

  “It’s corrupted,” he adds.

  “That’s a problem.” I hear the dangerous tone of my own voice, and while I didn’t intend it, I don’t pull it back or apologize for it, either.

  “I know. Here’s the situation. There was a system outage one day, due to a major change in the network. The outage wasn’t expected, so memory upload had no way of avoiding it.”

  His words bring things together in my mind, creating a new picture of what has happened to me, and how I got to where I am now. “Let me guess. That was the day that I was uploaded. Along with the other girls. That’s the thing we have in common.”

  “Yes.”

  That explains why there aren’t dozens, or hundreds, of us running around in here.

  My mind races to uncover a plan for backup retrieval or forensic reconstruction, but there’s nothing. All I have is whatever corrupted data Jim can give me.

  He says, “I didn’t know it, but that’s why your cases have taken so long to process. Fortunately, the other cases got solved based on evidence, but yours in particular…”

  “It all hinges on the memory upload,” I finish for him. “Yeah. That sucks.”

  “Maybe, though,” he suggests, “you’re just the right person to look at the data. If it’s you, and your own memory, and you’re in there…maybe you can pull something out of it that the police haven’t been able to.”

  “Fortunately, I do seem to be smarter than all of you put together,” I retort. Instantly, I feel bad about it. I’m not someone who says such pointlessly mean things. “Sorry.”

  “It’s fine,” he says. “You’re disappointed, I get it. Besides, it’s true. You’ve got way more processing power than a human brain does.”

  “Yeah, I guess.” I move on to the more important matter. “So give me what you’ve got. I’ll see what I can do with it.”

  “Are you going to be okay?” he asks. “I mean…there might be something really upsetting in there.”

  “More upsetting than what’s happened to me since being in here? I’m sure this isn’t going to be fun, but it’s just what I need to do.”

  “Right,” he says. “Okay. Sending now. And look…just in case you…I don’t know. Just…I’ll be around, okay?”

  “Yeah, I get it. Thanks.” But I’m already distancing myself from him because I can see the memory file coming my way, and it’s all I care about for right now.

  I ensure that he hasn’t included any extras this time, then grab the file and merge it into my ever-growing conglomeration of knowledge and access. Then I ignore everything else.

  Immediately, I feel like I’m bouncing around, disappearing, reappearing, and not knowing what is when and where is why.

  I feel a crushing sense of suffocating, but it lasts only a millisecond. Then I see a glimpse of myself walking on campus, but it immediately changes to a view of the sky. The sky disappears and I decide to go get coffee. I see Elly dropping her jacket on her bed. Then I feel a hard push between my shoulder blades.

  Then it all loops around again, and it makes no more sense the second time.

  It’s so fragmented.

  I follow the loop eighteen times, and when I’m sure there’s nothing more to be gotten from it, I try separating these pieces but it’s no use. They’re jammed together like a child’s art project, with every surface covered in glue and everything joined front to back, middle to end.

  There’s more, but it’s nothing I can do anything with. It’s just bits of code in no order. It’s like someone once made five sand castles, then stomped them down and pushed all the sand together. Nothing is distinct.

  As I did in life, I have a speed-dial for Elly. I activate it.

  “Jen? What’s up?” she sounds worried.

  “I got my memory, but it’s corrupted. It’s like a weird nightmare montage.”

  “Well, crap! What can you see?”

  “Little bursts. Deciding to get a coffee. Getting pushed. Walking. Suffocating. Your jacket.”

  “In that order?”

  “No. It’s random. Unjoined. I don’t know what comes first and what comes last. Well, I have to assume the suffocating comes last, for obvious reasons.”

  “Right.” She’s silent for a long moment. “Okay. So how do we fix it? Redesign it or whatever.”

  “Redesigning is not a thing in coding,” I say. “Seriously, take a programming class.
Please.”

  “Okay, so I’m an idiot. Whatever. What can you do to fix it? You. The way you are now. Surely you have tools you didn’t have before.”

  Tools. I cast my thoughts out. It’s like throwing a yo-yo away from me while the string’s on my finger. My awareness zooms out and gets the bigger picture before spinning back in to me.

  I really do have a lot of processing power in here. What if I were to harness all of it?

  “I might be able to do something,” I say skeptically. “Theoretically. I mean, it’s a mess. Like memory roadkill.”

  “You use a lot of analogies these days,” she observes.

  “What else have I got?” I shoot back. “There is literally no other way for me to express what this is like, because absolutely nothing is like this.”

  “Exactly,” she agrees. “Which is why you can find a way to make this work.”

  Her logic stinks, but on the other hand, kind of also works.

  “Okay,” I say. “I’ll give this a try. But I’m going to need Jim Lee’s help.”

  “Great,” she says.

  “You’re not off the hook,” I tell her. “I need your help, too.”

  “What could I possibly do?” she asks.

  “You’re going to come here and meet Jim face to face, and convince him to help me do this.”

  “I’m…I can’t do that,” she sputters. “I’m no one.”

  “I got your class schedule from the university database, and you’re done for the day, so you sure can. Tick tock,” I say. “Your GPS tells me you’re thirty-eight minutes away with the current weather and traffic patterns. Call me when you get to the building. I’m counting.”

  I cut her off and begin counting minutes.

  “I’m here.” Elly sounds doubtful and a bit annoyed.

  “I know. I see you.”

  “You do?”

  From the security cameras at the main door to the BomiTech building, I see three different views of Elly looking up, then side to side.

  “Sure do,” I say. “Cute hat.”

  Her hand goes to the top of her head, where a cute little pillbox hat sits. She yanks it off. “Crap. I forgot I had that on. I was trying on outfits when you called.”

  “Big date with Ben tonight?” I guess.

  She stuffs the hat into her purse. “Kind of. It’s our one-year dating anniversary.”

  “Cool. Okay, the doors are unlocked. Just walk in like you belong there and go straight past the reception desk.”

  “But…there’s a badge swipe.” She sounds dubious.

  “Trust me.”

  She huffs out a breath, straightens in that good old determined Elly way, and reaches for the door.

  “Keep the phone up. I’ll give you directions,” I tell her.

  “I don’t know about this,” she hisses. “I’m going to get arrested or something.”

  “Just keep going.”

  The receptionist calls out to Elly.

  “Pretend you don’t hear him,” I say. “Say, ‘yes, I’m on my way up now. Fifth floor, right?’ Say it loudly.”

  Elly practically shouts the words.

  “Oh, nice,” I say. “Yelling like that sounded totally natural. Way to nail it. Just keep walking.”

  “Oh, sorry, I’ve never broken into a major data hub before,” she retorts. “I’m a little tense.”

  “Don’t worry,” I say. “I’ve got you covered. In about five seconds, a security guard is going to appear on your left side. Tell her that you have temporary access for the day, code X-five-zero-seven-seven-tango. Then say you’re headed to the fifth floor. Then give a tight little smile, like you know a bunch of stuff that no one else does, and they’re inconveniencing you by existing in your proximity.”

  “Yeah, sure, why no—” her voice cuts off when the guard appears. “I have day access, code X-five-zero-seven-seven-tango. Fifth floor. You know.”

  She says it fairly convincingly.

  The guard backs off a step and her posture becomes subservient. It’s funny that I can see that. “I see. Do you need help finding the elevators?”

  “No, thanks,” she says crisply. “I’ve got it.”

  The guard nods and folds her hands in front of her, letting Elly pass.

  When she’s out of earshot, Elly hisses, “What’s on the fifth floor? Why’s it so special?”

  “It’s the high-security area that deals with government stuff. Criminal stuff, taxpayer records, all that.”

  “So like a top-level thing,” she guesses.

  “Pretty much, in terms of authority. Turn left here, then on through the doors. There’s a badge swipe, but they’ll be open. Then you’ll see the elevators.”

  “Okay. Then what?”

  “Fifth floor,” I say. “I’ll give you the code and dummy up the thumbprint.”

  She groans. “You’re seriously sending me somewhere that requires thumbprint identification? I’m going to jail. I don’t belong here.”

  “You do. For the moment, you’re the corporeal extension of myself. I want you to stand in front of Jim just like a real person, so he knows that I’m a real person too, even if he can’t see me. Show him that picture of you kissing me on the cheek that you keep on your phone.”

  “I do not,” she denies as she passes through the security doors and continues toward the elevators.

  “Do so. You love that picture. It was my twenty-first birthday and we got goofy on daiquiris.”

  She totally loves that picture.

  “Fine.” She heaves a sigh.

  She boards the elevator and I verify a qualified thumbprint for her. It’s ridiculously easy from this side of the system. Clearly, BomiTech never thought about a rogue digital person infiltrating their buildings.

  I give Elly a lengthy code that will allow her to access the fifth floor.

  “Can’t you just override it?” she asks after entering the twenty-character sequence.

  “I could, but this is quicker and quieter. Oddly, the code is trickier from my side than the thumbprint.”

  “They won’t notice?” She leans against the wall and crosses her arms after the elevator begins moving. “Aren’t they watching you?”

  “Sure, they’re watching as closely as they can.”

  “And how close is that?”

  “Not very,” I laugh. “They have no idea how big my network has become. So don’t tell. It’s more fun if we keep them guessing.”

  “Yeah,” she says sourly. “Committing crimes is super fun. Woo.”

  “Stop pouting.”

  “I’m not pouting.

  “You are. Your arms are crossed and everything.”

  Her head jerks up and she drops her arms to her sides. “Is this whole building wired with cameras?”

  “Pretty much, other than the bathrooms. Because ew.”

  She laughs and her shoulders relax, which was the point of me saying something so juvenile.

  “This is just like that time we got up at three in the morning to sneak to the kitchen and steal the cookies your mom baked,” I observe.

  “Sure, it’s just like that,” she agrees. “Except I don’t think these guys will settle for a smacked bottom and a long sit in the time-out chair.”

  “Don’t worry. If they so much as get rude with you, I’ll blast ‘em with some ‘Y’all Done Did It Now.’”

  She laughs so hard she bends forward at the waist a little, her hand on her stomach. “You wouldn’t. That’s too mean.”

  “I did it before, and I’ll do it again. Believe me, they’re not eager for a repeat.”

  Elly goes into a fit of giggles. “You should have turned into a computer years ago. Imagine the fun we could have had.”

  “Hah.”

  “Oh, come on,” she says cajolingly. “You teased me about my hat, I can tease you, too.”

  “I wasn’t teasing. I liked your hat.”

  “Going digital hasn’t made you a better liar. I can always tell.”

  She
’s right.

  “Fine,” I admit. “It’s an ugly hat. Plus, you look dumb in hats. But I was trying to be supportive.”

  “I do look dumb in hats,” she agreed. “Always have. I keep trying, though.”

  The elevator stops and the doors open.

  “Ready?” I ask.

  Her humor has evaporated, and she looks nervous. “No. But I’m trusting you.”

  20

  Infiltration

  Jim Lee and Elly stand blinking at each other. He’s surprised by her sudden arrival and she’s nervous. Confrontation has never been her strong suit.

  “Jim,” I say over his network circuit so that they can both hear me, “we need your help.”

  Elly’s still holding her phone, realizes that fact, and self-consciously puts it away.

  “I thought I was already helping you,” he says. He gestures to a chair and Elly sits, then he does the same.

  “This is more than that. I’m trying to put my fragmented memories back together.”

  “What can I do with those files that you can’t?” he asks.

  “I don’t know. I just…don’t know how to start. I’ve never dealt with anything like this.”

  He looks at Elly, but speaks to us both. “You know BomiTech isn’t thrilled about all this, right? You’ve got them cornered, but a cornered animal is a dangerous thing.”

  “So they’re looking for ways to hurt Jennika, then.” Elly watches him carefully.

  “They didn’t become the premiere global IT solution by having a la-dee-dah approach to serious threats. Let’s just say that,” Jim answers slowly, “they want contingencies for all possible outcomes.”

  Elly clasps her hands together and stares down at them, then lets out a breath. “I guess they didn’t consider the possibility of a person coming here, so maybe they should stop trying to play this by their rules.” Her eyes narrow. “How about this outcome? How about I let the outside world know what’s happened? Imagine the mass hysteria. Imagine the effect on stocks. Even if they got rid of Jennika, this is already out. I have proof. And if something were to happen to me, we’ve made plans for that, too. You’re not the only one who has contingencies.”