Winnipeg 2087: A Human/Computer Perspective

By Zach Samborski

In crime-ridden Winnipeg, Manitoba, Canada, a man tries to hack into an underground drilling system to steal gang-acquired heroin and escape to Guatemala. On the other side, a computer program, The Sword, who wants to be human, is willing to do anything to defend the heroin it acquired.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Zach Samborski
• Release date: Feb 24, 2014
• ISBN: 9780993674914

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Winnipeg 2087: A Human/Computer Perspective

By Zach Samborski

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2014 by Zach Samborski

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Dominic (Wpg2087) @winnipeg2087

i don’t know what i dream of. #wpg2087 #winnipeg

Dominic (Wpg2087) @winnipeg2087

i write what i think i dream of. then i toss that writing away. #wpg2087 #winnipeg

Dominic (Wpg2087) @winnipeg2087

that’s because some dreams lose their relevance. #wpg2087 #winnipeg

Dominic (Wpg2087) @winnipeg2087

eventually, you stop dreaming. #wpg2087 #winnipeg

Dominic (Wpg2087) @winnipeg2087

how can i dream again? what will i dream of next? #wpg2087 #winnipeg

CHAPTER ONE

Spinning his chair, Dominic looked onto his apartment window exposing the waves of orange and green attacking a plot of stars hanging from the midnight dome stretched over the Metropolis towers. In his room, an eel of lamp fluorescence stood alone amidst this orange-green concoction computing shadows of the bedframe. Dominic then walked over and halted as he stood nose length from the glass. He faced a clan of skyscrapers, and from their windows, wings of solar cannoned out. The antennas and transmitters lacerated the entrails of clouds.

"Let’s bring home some bacon."

He went back to his chair, and as he rested in place, he tapped his left eye to activate the Google Implant housed within the nerves of his head. The screen within his retina displayed a snake of pastel-green pixels. The snake, its edges a collective of squares, started gliding across the grid curtain overlaying; its body, a clump of digits, poured to the exit edge; each digit lost itself to the horizontal flush like small grains against the patting of a breeze. ‘Password residue’ was this reptile’s name. The program, Exacto, would cut the digits loose from the server’s lock-box, and each of them floated in the analyzer tank as a spiraling snake. Once the numbers let loose, Exacto, at the tip of proper fingers, would gather them up again and put them back together into their right orders, and the snake became snakeskin.

As Dominic watched that flowing green, he positioned his finger over his pupil. From that vantage point within the Google Implant lens, his finger was egg-sized as it faded the back layers of the grid curtain to form a hazy window. The digits were now running overtop his magnified finger.

C’mon, he rasped. Give Daddy a blinker.

The snake continued its blast all green. Another cluster of numbers…still green! Then came a crystal digit (‘3’), which twitched. The tip of Dominic’s finger lashed at the glow, a lash the cosmic jettison of a fly in the arms of a turbine, and in the first of five placeholder boxes at the bottom left of his eyeball, ‘3’ appeared. Dominic grinned. Two more flashes; two more finger twitches. ‘7’ appeared in the second box. Another ‘7’took the third position.

Please let this be it.

Now came a flashing ‘4’. The finger went down again in needle fashion, and ‘2’ filled the fourth box.

Last in line, you bastard.

'8' popped in the fifth.

YES!

A wall tiled blue popped up. At the top were the words Metropolis of Winnipeg: The Department of Public Works. Below was a header that read, Manual Operation – Driller No. 51. The header lay overtop six buttons representing different functions.

Let's go for a ride.

He hit a button marked ‘Point of View’, and the image of a tunnel path now funneled into the driller’s ported camera. He then hit an arrow in the screen’s corner, and it turned red as he held it down. From the camera lens, the tunnel wall lights blurred as the driller sped. At the top of the interface was a small map showing a dot gliding along digital curves. Then, Dominic withdrew his finger, exited the P.O.V and went back to the main screen. He looked at the five digits, entered them into the notepad, and powered off the Google Vision. The room was now within both his eyes.

On the table, next to the notepad and pen, were a syringe, spoon, Bic lighter, knife, tube, and a bag of something black, oily, and tarry. Snuggling his back against the leather, Dominic opened the bag and carved out a pedal no bigger than a fingernail chunk from the block of tar. He positioned it in the centre of the spoon and made a flame with the lighter in his other hand. To the butt of the spoon came the blue heat; the shaving bubbled molten. At last, Dominic inched the tip into the steaming puddle settling in the iron and pulled the plunger up. He rolled up his sleeve and stared at the blemishes covering his arm. Then he twisted and tightened the tube around his skin until a swell of crimson saturated every cell. With the tip of the tube held between his teeth, he stroked his arm with his finger until it arrived at a vein, and he grabbed the syringe. He then inserted the needle with the fragility of a kitten’s tap and mashed the plunger down as if it was a French press.

As he jerked back into the caress of the leather, the muscles weaved and marched to the heart’s commanding assault –