Chapter 3: Unrated Game

Within a couple days of my introduction to the twenty-third century, or whatever the hell year I was in, I was strong enough to leave my cabin and take my meals with the crew. Or perhaps I should say, “the rest of the crew.” I had signed up, though there didn’t seem to be any formalities involved. No oaths, no paperwork.

Has humanity finally outgrown bureaucracy?

To say that the food was truly awful was an insult to all of the awful food I had ever eaten. It tasted like unseasoned tofu, and had the consistency of tapioca. But protean was protean, and the body needs what it needs. The crew didn’t talk about it – I imagine the topic had been exhausted long ago.

When Britt decided I was ready to maybe start being useful, Hermes asked Zephyr to show me around and start my training. The Belisarius was, I discovered, a fuel cell-powered hovercraft, and it appeared that her natural hunting grounds were in the ruins of human cities from the last century.

“What do you do out here?” I asked him as I looked out a porthole at twisted girders that had once supported some sort of office tower.

“We monitor the Matrix itself. Cataloging patterns; assessing strengths and weaknesses. We usually only go in for short periods and discrete operations. The hacking operations you heard about – Moscow and the rest – were probing operations that had the ulterior purpose of getting us known to people like you.”

“Trans people?”

Zephyr smiled. “Well . . . yes and no. We need people who really understand the cyber world; that’s the backbone of our resistance these days. Training helps – and you have no idea how good our training can be! – but honestly, when it comes to deep programming, you’ve either got a mind for it or you don’t.”

“And if you’re only recruiting children, you won’t know?”

“Right. Well, we’re not completely in the dark. We’ve been able to find some great candidates based on early STEM testing. But our success rate is still relatively low. So, the possibility of freeing a mature, fully-trained hacker – in Hermes’ view, at least – is well worth the risk.”

“I’m not sure anyone’s ever described me as ‘mature’ before.”

“I’m guessing, as a dyed-in-the-wool cyber punk, you’re not wild about the label, either!” He smiled broadly, and I chuckled in response.

“Fair. Were you a hacker, too?”

He snorted. “Hell, no! I was the ‘gender diversity’ in some extreme Electronic Sports. Doom, Quake, Starcraft . . . .” Seeing my look, he said, a bit defensively, “I know, I know . . . just ‘games.’ But my ability as a virtual ‘pilot’ is what got me recruited. When it comes to a combat scenario, I’m the guy at the wheel on this beautiful bucket of bolts.”

“Beautiful?”

“Careful, girl! You say anything bad about the Bel, and I will personally thrash you in hand-to-hand combat!” He smiled, completely taking any potential sting out of his words.

“Since I’m only just strong enough to roam around the ship without falling over, I’d be pretty easy pickings,” I said ruefully. “I used to be pretty good at mixed martial arts, but . . . that was in a different body . . . a different world. And, I guess, all in my head.”

“So if it was the ‘you’ I encountered in the Matrix, and the pixie freak you met on the train?”

I chuckled. “I have no idea what your skill level is . . . or was. Or whatever, You know what I mean. But . . . I must have outmassed that version of you by fifty percent or more. So, yeah. Back there, I’d have like my odds.”

He looked at me speculatively. “There are things that are really hard to understand about the Matrix. It’s almost impossible not to think of it as reality. There’s something I know Hermes intended to show you, but if you’d like, I can give you a demo right now.”

“What kind of demo?” I asked cautiously.

“We have a dojo simulation on our internal system. Want to try out a little combat? Your residual self image versus mine?”

I wasn’t eager to have that damned plug put back in my skull, and I was even less eager to get another “lesson,” which I somehow suspected was going to be a whole lot more painful and surprising than I had just suggested. Still, what I’d said was true. I – well, Noel Fergusson – had been very good. Or I would never have survived . . . I wouldn’t have survived a whole lot of things. And in the Matrix, Zephyr was a pixie. Nothing ventured, nothing gained. “Sure.”

Before I knew it, we were back in the room with the comfy chairs. Britt and one of the others – I was pretty sure it was Kai, but I was still stumbling with names – came to get us “plugged in.” This time, I was a bit more prepared.

Again, the world around me vanished and I was in another place and another body. I was barefoot, wearing MMA shorts and in my old, male body. The dojo was spacious and well-lit; the walls appeared to be teak, and the training mat looked like it was in good shape.

Zephyr – Zephyr in the female presentation I had first seen on BART – faced me across the mat. Now a she, her fight attire included a rash guard – effectively, a high-tech sports bra. She gave me a sardonic smile and sang out, “ding, ding!” Then she came straight at me.

I came forward cautiously, assuming my fighting stance as she neared. She jabbed with her right hand, once, then twice, but both were clearly probes. I batted the first aside easily, dodged the second, then put some real force behind a counter-jab. She was being very aggressive with an opponent she had never faced, and that often ends badly.

My gloved fist was millimeters from her nose when she pivoted, essentially on a dime, neatly avoiding my jab. Because she’d delayed so long, I was fully committed to the jab and slightly unbalanced – just slightly – when it failed to connect.

But worse was to come. She continued her pivot, spinning on her left leg and raising the right into a powerful round kick. Seeing it coming, I moved to grab her wheeling foot, preparing to knock her off her feet completely. But just as my hands were about to close, she raised her leg just above my grabbing hands. Her foot connected with my jaw.

It should have hurt, of course. A solid round kick is going to hurt. But the force she managed to deliver was wildly out of proportion to her diminutive size. The blow knocked me down and sent my head spinning. I was sufficiently dazed that she could have finished me any number of ways.

But when I shook my head to clear it, she was just standing there, waiting. Near as I could tell, even her breathing was completely normal.

I went at her. With everything I had – every move I knew, every trick I had learned. Regulation or not. Wherever I lunged, wherever I punched, wherever I kicked, she was there . . . until she wasn’t. But she would just step back and let me keep at it.

I don’t know how long this lasted. I couldn’t land anything, couldn’t grab anything. Couldn’t execute a throw or even a hold. I was tired, panting for breath, frustrated as hell, angry . . . I gave a shout and charged.

Fast as a snake, she coiled and kicked me right in the gut. I flew back, rammed the wall, and collapsed at its base. “Holy fuck!” I rasped. “What are you?”

She came and knelt in front of me, legs together, ass to ankles. “What I am is nowhere near good enough. If we were in the Matrix and an Agent caught me, he’d take me apart.”

I was still panting for air; all I could manage was a look of complete disbelief.

“Noelle,” she said with quiet intensity. “What are you doing? You can’t be out of breath. This is all happening in your head. The body you are feeling right now isn’t real. It isn’t breathing.”

“Sure as hell feels real to me!”

Her eyes bored into mine. “Free your mind! The Matrix has rules, sure. It functions like the real world – mostly. But if your mind is free, those rules are more like guidelines. You can bend them. Sometimes, over backwards. And believe me, there are times when you’ll need to.”

“Is that why you’re so good?”

“Partly. But partly, it’s because we can feed training programs straight into our brains. How long did you study MMA?”

“Ten years, at least.”

“Black belt?”

I nodded. “Third degree.”

“I just learned yesterday. Thought this might come up.”

“Bullshit!”

“Britt,” she said, still looking at me, “Give Noelle the packet, would you?”

Suddenly my mind was filled with images, moving too rapidly for my brain to keep up. Positions, movements, styles . . . my limbs twitched . . . the information battered me, filled me, and filled me some more. I imagined myself executing move after move – punches, kicks, throws, holds – again and again and again . . . time slowed and I was lost with wonder.

As quickly as it began, it was over, and I was still looking at Zephyr, who did not appear to have moved a muscle. “How long . . . . ?”

“Seconds. Our brains are far more capable than you think.”

I felt like I’d absorbed years of the most advanced training. I knew every move in my bones . . . in my muscles. It wasn’t possible! “Can I actually do all that?”

Zephyr smiled. “Try me.”

I got back up, and we resumed. I was better – better than I had ever been! I must be the equivalent of a ninth degree. Every move I executed was damned near perfect.

But Zephyr still eluded my attacks and landed blows too fast for me to dodge. Again she went into a defense-only mode, but I still couldn’t make contact. Finally, she barked, “Stop limiting yourself! You can be much faster than you think you can be. Remember – you aren’t using real muscles!”

I stopped and held myself still, thinking about what she said. Thinking how time had seemed to distort as I absorbed the packet. Could I get out of my own way? Could I overcome the limits on my body that a lifetime of conditioning had imposed?

Suddenly, Zephyr moved – a fast, false jab followed by a straight kick aimed right at my jaw. In my mind, I slowed the kick down and imagined my hands reaching up to grab her foot as I stepped back.

Astonishingly, I found her foot captured in my two-handed grip. I spun it, causing Zephyr to tumble. She rolled as she hit the mat, but I dropped to where the roll would bring her. Still, she got her legs balled before I hit, and with a powerful double kick, threw me back against the wall.

This time, I avoided the fall, but she was back on her feet before I could come at her again. She smiled. “You understand, then.”

I found I was still in that hyper-alert state, like I had slowed the world around us down. My breathing was even . . . my heart rate felt normal, or at least close to normal. I nodded. “Yes.”

“That should do for now, then. Britt, Kai . . . bring us back.”

The dojo vanished, and I was once more in the chair, the Belisarius all around us.

Britt’s voice came from right beside my ear. “Having fun in there?”

“Shit, yeah!”

“Super. But listen to me, girlfriend. I want you to learn to use your real body too. Got it?”

I looked down, seeing my breasts rising and falling under the plain fabric of my “uniform.” Saw my delicate hands resting on the arm-rest of the chair. My body. The one I’d always wanted. I smiled. “Trust me. I’m with you!”

She clapped me on the shoulder and I got out of the chair.

Zephyr once again loomed; he had six inches on me, easy. “Shall we continue the tour?”

“By all means – And I promise I’ll be nothing but admiring of your sleek, beautiful hovercraft!”

He laughed. “That’s the spirit!”

He showed me the engines – motors, really – and the area where the crew continuously monitored the Matrix, lines of infinitely scrolling, glowing green code. Blake was on duty and gave us an absent-minded wave.

Zephyr took me up to the cockpit, which looked like it would be tight quarters when both seats were occupied. At present only one was; the slender man Hermes had introduced as Abhaya appeared to be holding the fort.

Next we climbed a series of ladders to the weapons station. It was a small chamber, clearly intended for only one person. But the top of the room consisted of an observation blister that permitted visual inspection of most of the ship’s guns.

“The systems are all automated,” Zephyr explained. “We activate and deactivate the guns here, but the weapons mainframe handles all of the targeting and firing. We just monitor it. Visually, but also on the readouts.” A row of computer screens formed a half-circle along one wall of the small chamber, together with a series of toggle switches and a big, red button protected by a clear plastic cover.

“Neat,” I said. But the tightness of the space was starting to make me uncomfortable. “What’s next?”

“We’ve got a small hydroponics plant,” he began.

But he was interrupted by a soft buzz, and Hermes’ voice, low and urgent, filled the chamber. “Sentinel approaching at four o’clock. Abhaya, land the Bel. Dakota, power us down as soon as we’re on the ground. Zephyr, be ready on the EMP.”

This was clearly some kind of emergency, but I didn’t understand the threat. “What . . . ?”

“Shhhh!” Zephyr hissed as he flipped the plastic cover over the big red button in the center of the displays. He was looking in the direction the captain had identified, and his eyes were very focussed. I glanced that direction myself and saw movement in the gloom outside. In the far distance, a metal object, looking like an octopus, was zipping back and forth, tentacles streaming behind it.

I felt, rather than heard, the ship land on something solid. As soon as it did, all the lights went out and the readouts went dark. We were plunged into the twilight that seemed ever-present in the outdoors.

I wanted to get out of the chamber. Wanted it fiercely. It was too small, too tight. And too exposed. I could feel my heart rate climbing.

In the gloom, the metal object appeared to come closer, though not on a direct line. It zipped one way, then another, changing direction with the agility of the sea creature it so closely resembled. It’s hunting, I thought.

I could feel the sweat pricking my skin. My hands felt clammy. I heard a noise that sounded frighteningly loud, and realized it was my own breathing. Ragged. Uneven. Every nerve in my body was screaming, Run!!!! Trying desperately to control my body, to still my claustrophobia, I began to tremble.

Zephyr soundlessly put a hand on my shoulder and pulled me around to look away from the creature. As he saw my condition, his eyes darkened with concern. Instinctively, he pulled me into an embrace.

Knowing, somehow, that we needed to keep still and silent, I closed my eyes tightly, put my head on his shoulder, and circled him tightly with my own arms. I felt his heartbeat, steady and regular. His breathing was slow and even. He isn’t afraid, I told myself. There’s nothing to worry about!

But I knew better. We were hiding from that questing object, hoping that stillness and stealth would keep it away. It was the hunter, we were the prey. Homo sapiens, the species that had filled the world and subdued it, was forced to hide like the rabbits that had once been our food.

I held Zephyr even tighter as words from a novel I’d read years before pounded in my head. I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer . . . .

But I’d never actually read that book, had I? That was just a memory the AI planted in my brain.

Wasn’t it?

God, I wanted to scream!

I don’t know how long we stood there. It felt like an eternity. I managed to get my breathing under control, but my heart continued to pound. I hung on, knowing there wasn’t anything else I could do, my jaws clenched as tight as my eyes, trying to bite back the scream I was desperate to unleash.

“Looks like it’s heading away.” His voice, in my ear, was barely a breath. Only in the complete silence of the inert ship could I have heard it at all.

With great reluctance, I loosened my arms, preparing to step back.

“Not yet,” he whispered, keeping his hands firmly on my back.

Where the fear has gone, there will be nothing. Only I will remain. Had I not read that? Does it matter?

It was probably five minutes later that Hermes gave the all clear and the lights came back on. We released each other, but the tight space did not allow either of us to retreat far.

I found myself blushing, embarrassed. “I’m sorry. . . . I’m not like this, usually. I don’t like tight spaces, but I’m good in a fight.”

He started to raise a hand, gently, but thought better of the impulse. “Don’t worry about it. It’s going to take you some time to get used to this reality.”

“Fuckin’ A,” I responded fervently.

That got a smile. “I hear ya. Let’s go somewhere more . . . spacious, shall we?”

“If you insist,” I replied, as gamely as I could. “Lead on!”

On our way to the mess, I asked, “What was that thing?”

“Sentinels are machines designed by the AI to look for and kill free humans. Think of them as the real world equivalents of the Agents in the Matrix.”

“Except that the Sentinels will actually kill you, right?”

He shook his head sharply. “Oh, no. If you die in the Matrix, your physical body dies too. An Agent will kill you just as dead as a Sentinel.”

“There’s a cheerful thought.”

You couldn’t call it tea, much less coffee. But the beverage he got for me in the mess was at least hot and had some vestigial flavor. Couldn’t tell you what it was. “Is it at least a stimulant?” I asked him.

He shook his head, his smile lopsided. “Of course not. It’s just hot and wet.”

“Shit.”

“I don’t think so, but I really don’t know how it’s made.”

“You’re not helping,” I scolded.

He put his hands over mine and gave me an apologetic look. “Noelle – I’m sorry. I wish I had some comfort for you. I know all of this is . . . overwhelming. Bewildering. Scary.”

“Don’t forget batshit crazy,” I added. “Especially since I can’t help wondering if I’ve completely lost my mind.”

He chuckled, then surprised me by singing, “Why don’t they let me go home? Ye-ah . . . ! This is the worst trip, I’ve ever been on!” His low voice was pleasantly tuneful.

I laughed. “Should have called this the John B. Who the hell was ‘Belasarius,’ anyway?”

“According to the histories back in Zion, he was a Byzantine general. But I can’t tell you how good the histories are. Might have been corrupted by the AI, during the war.”

“So we aren’t all that sure about the present, and the past might have gotten touched up as well?”

“Folks back in Zion who study this stuff think so. I mean, like, remember Donald Trump?”

The nonsequitur left me puzzled. “That New York real estate character who was always in the tabloids?”

He nodded. “Yeah. According to the ‘histories,’ he became the President of the United States.”

“Oh, come on! Even in New York, he was a joke!”

“The evangelicals loved him. Thought he was like the second coming or something. Scout’s honor, that’s what the books say.”

“I see what you mean,” I said. “The AI definitely fucked with the history.”

“Or else maybe our memories of what the guy was like are fake.”

I shook my head, bewildered. “Can this get any worse?”

His intense blue eyes studied me carefully. “Sorry you didn’t take the blue pill?”

“Oh, hell, no!” My response was practically instant. I thought of what Hermes had shown me – the pod filled with amniotic fluid; the hairless human within, oblivious, endlessly dreaming for the benefit of AI masters he didn’t even know he had. “No. Fucking. Way!”

“Shit, XO, you aren’t laying the whole, ‘how do we know what we know’ trip on her, are you?”

I turned to find that Britt had joined us.

She gave me a look. “Listen to me. All you need to know is that the machines are out there, they’re hunting us, and there’s no quarter asked or given. How we got here, or why? It don’t matter.”

Zephyr somewhat belatedly released my hands and smiled at the intense trainer. “I suppose that does keep things simple.”

“Simple’s good,” she retorted. “Keep it simple, and maybe we survive.”

“I don’t want to survive,” I said abruptly. “I want to win.”

Britt gave me a hard look. “Fantasize all you want, Chicka. But go down that road too far, and you just get good people killed.”

I looked at Zephyr. “That your take too?”

He waggled his hand. “I’m more inclined to play the odds than Britt – but someone would need to show me some odds that were worth a wager.”

Britt snorted. “Odds. Yeah. She probably thinks we should have blasted that sentinel.”

“Could you?” I asked.

“Sure,” she replied. “One sentinel? Absolutely. We’ve done better than that before, especially when this one was in the pilot’s seat.” She pointed at Zephyr.

I looked from one of them to the other. “Fine,” I growled. “So tell me why that would have been a bad idea.”

“There are lots of sentinels,” Zephyr said gently. “Knock one down, and the hundreds more will swarm. The Electro-Magnetic Pulse is more stealthy, and we can use it so long as everything else is shut down. But we’d still have to move in a hurry, and that interrupts our surveillance work. We’ve got good taps into the Matrix in this location.”

“I just hate feeling so damned helpless.” I was having trouble containing my frustration.

“Like Hermes says, ‘welcome to the real world,’” Britt responded, without noticeable sympathy.

Blake – the never-pluged-in human who looked like a good ‘ol boy, chose that moment to step into the mess. “Woooo-whee! Nothing like a little hot water to clear away the fog of monitoring!” He moved purposefully toward the machine that dispensed the hot liquid.

Zephyr snorted. “Anything interesting?”

“Same ol’, same ol,’” Blake replied easily. He poured himself a mug, hooked a chair out and sat across from me. “Looking forward to getting you in the rotation.”

“For monitoring the Matrix? What do you actually do?”

He shrugged. “We keep tabs on our ops in the Matrix, our communications and contacts. And run a lot of diagnostic and analytical programs. Trying to get a sense of what’s going on at a macro level. Assessing defenses . . . trying to anticipate countermeasures. Cat-and-Mouse stuff.”

My expression must have been something, because Britt cracked up. “Holy crap, girl! I’m guessing you were looking for an assignment that was maybe a bit more, ah, kinetic?”

I could feel the heat rising in my face. “Okay, yeah. You could say that. Look, I know it’s stupid, and I’m sure I’ll learn better, and blah-de-blah-blah-blah. Sorry. But honest to God, I just want to fucking pound the people – the things – that have done this to us!”

“You go girl!” Blake said, smiling widely.

“Don’t encourage her!” Britt snarled.

Zephyr interceded quietly, but with a tone that suddenly carried authority. “Enough, both of you. Noelle, we’re going to teach you everything we know about fighting. And you know how effective our training can be. But, if you have the kind of mind Hermes thinks you do, by the time you’re finished you may be teaching us how to fight. So be patient, okay?”

I gave the first mate an appraising look. “That’s why I was recruited?”

“You’ll need to discuss that with Hermes, once your training is finished.”

“Okay,” I said evenly. “Okay. I get it. Let’s get the training over with, then.”

Britt shook her head. “Slow down. You’re only just out of the Matrix. I’m just getting your physical body working half properly, and your mind is still adapting. You need to ration your simulator time.”

“But . . .”

Zephyr overrode my budding protest. “Britt’s right, Noelle. Getting unplugged is traumatic for your body and your mind. Especially for someone your age. If we move too fast, you’ll regress. You need to trust us on this.”

My frustration boiled over. “Dammit!!!”

Zephyr stood, looking stern. “Walk with me, please.”

I took a deep breath, then released it. What is wrong with me? I’m not usually this emotional! “Okay. Sorry.” I got to my feet and followed him out of the mess.

He headed down the corridor, saying nothing. The soft soles of our ship’s slippers made barely any sound against the metal of the deck.

He stopped by a hatch and spun the lock. I hadn’t recognized the hatch to my cabin, but that wasn’t too surprising. They all looked alike.

Sighing, I stepped inside and he followed, closing the hatch behind him. My cabin had a pair of uncomfortable chairs. He took one and gave me a pointed look.

I sat. While I felt rebellious, I also had the presence of mind to know I was being childish. There was no sense getting frustrated every time I hit some sort of a road block; there was just too much that I didn’t know going on.

“I was the first trans person Hermes brought out as an adult, nine years ago,” Zephyr said quietly. “I felt like you do, I think. I was angry . . . wanted revenge. And I pushed, and pushed. Hermes was happy to let me. But the result of pushing so hard and so fast was that I got to the point where I couldn’t come back to an alert state when I was unplugged. I was in a coma for months.”

I thought about my own reaction to our training session today – how alive I had felt. How powerful. I could almost see what he was saying . . . but I also remembered my reaction when I was unplugged. “I don’t think that will happen with me.”

Zephyr’s look was full of understanding. Still, he said, “Believe me, Noelle, I was no less overjoyed to wake up in a body that matched what I’d always felt inside. I hate the way I look inside the Matrix or the simulator. Hate it!”

I thought about his pixie form. “You’re awfully cute – I’d have died for your figure.”

“And I’d have died for yours. So I get it. But it didn’t matter – all that didn’t help me. I still ended up in a coma.”

I nodded slowly. “Okay. Thanks for the explanation. I’m sorry I lost it back there. Actually, I’m sorry I keep losing it. You all must think I’m a basket case.”

“No. Remember, four of us have gone through what you’re experiencing. Having our world turned on its head, using our real bodies for the first time in decades, and trying to get used to being the gender we’ve always dreamed of. It’s normal to be . . . emotional.”

I was diverted from his meaning by his word choice. “Did you ever . . . I mean, before you were unplugged . . . did you ever dream that you were a man?”

“God, yes! And then I’d wake up, and find myself a fricking pixie, and I’d scream.” He looked at me, and his eyes were gentle. “You, too?”

“Well, the gender was different. But yeah. I used to dream . . . .” I stopped, and I could feel the blood flaming my face. I remembered those dreams. On my back, my legs spread, a handsome man loving me . . . .

“Ah,” Zephyr said with a half smile. “Those dreams.”

Just recalling them brought back so many feelings . . . so much longing. And here I was, finally, in the body I should always have had. And right here, in my cabin, was a handsome man. An intelligent man. I suddenly felt flushed.

The physical sensations were new to me. I had read about them, but never thought the day would come when I would experience them personally. My nipples pushed against the bandeau that wrapped my chest, and I felt warm . . . especially between my legs.

I stood, abruptly. “Thank you for your explanation,” I said, trying to remain polite. “If you don’t mind, I think I’d like to take a bit of a rest before we resume.”

He stood more slowly and looked down at me with understanding. He held my gaze for a long, long moment, before saying, “Of course. After dinner, if you’re feeling up to it, we can do another training session.”

“Thank you,” I said again. I decided not to elaborate on that response.

He gave a short nod, walked to the door hatch, and departed, closing it softly behind him.

Freed from the need to keep my composure, I let out an explosive breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding in, then stumbled to my bed and sat down. What the hell had come over me? Jesus, I’d been seconds away from throwing myself at him!

The morning’s exertions – and frustrations! – caught up with me, and once again my emotions bubbled over. With a groan, I lay down and curled up, weeping.

To be continued . . . .