Dreaming of Sleep

By Jonden Chickeness

In the aftermath of the events of Uploaded, V finds himself back in his old apartment and living a comfortable new life. Everything seems normal, until the seams of his reality begin to open. He quickly discovers that he is a digital copy of himself, trapped and at the mercy of the terrorist hackers who still hold his real body. He faces a decision; to go along with their plans and stay alive, or try to escape and free his body.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jonden Chickeness
• Release date: Oct 31, 2016
• ISBN: 9781370377299

Jonden Chickeness

Jonden Chickeness is a Canadian self-published author from the small town of Marshall, Saskatchewan. He is a father of three and has been married to his wife, Justine, since 2010. He works as an electrician during the day, and is an avid gamer in his free time.

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PART 1 - Loading

Chapter 1

from: [e-mail]

to: [e-mail]

subject: Project update required

date: October 24, 2018, 19:03 GMT

Jax, I need an update on the progress of the environment code. The hardware is ready.

from: [e-mail]

to: [e-mail]

subject: RE: Project update required

date: October 24, 2018, 19:09 GMT

Nearly there. New kid is getting distracted, efficiency down 2%.

from: [e-mail]

to: [e-mail]

subject: Project update required

date: October 24, 2018, 19:11 GMT

I’ll have Rhusky look in to it.

/u/Rhusky: You really want to know?

/u/Virtualboy: Yes.

There was no reply. A minute passed, then ten minutes.

/u/Virtualboy: Hello?

Answered by silence, he abandoned the chat for the time being. Must be AFK, V thought. The acronym - away from keyboard - was one of the oldest he knew. It reminded him of the countless hours he spent at his old computer playing Starcraft with strangers on the internet.

He moved on to other tasks, which mainly consisted of rubbing his arm in confusion. It was sore, but he didn’t remember hitting it on anything. It was like a day old injection site, but without the telltale red dot where the needle would have punctured the skin. He checked the time and, noticing that it was getting late, shut down the computer and settled in for the night.

His alarm woke him at the appropriate time, and he stumbled over to the apartment’s small kitchen to make some coffee. The grungy linoleum floor paired nicely with the yellow stained walls and cheap pressboard cabinets. He dumped the leftover half pot from yesterday, and as he rinsed the carafe, he noticed two dirty mugs in the sink.

That’s weird. I didn’t have anyone over. Why would I use two mugs? He felt something fire in his brain like a cosmic ray, gone as quickly as it had arrived. He tried to follow the thought, but it was already gone. It was like trying to remember a dream as you were waking up; the details quickly faded into nothing. He put the thought aside and continued his morning ritual.

His reddit feed was average, with nothing unusual spiking to the front page. He scanned some major news sites as he finished his coffee. A new batch of riots had broken out, this time a sect of technophobic Christians protesting the coming Machine Gods. They marched with cardboard signs bearing slogans like God Hates Robots! and Worship NO False Idols! Luddites, he thought.

7:25 am flashed on his phone screen, indicating that it was time for work. He turned off the computer screens and walked to the work door, the farthest door on the left at the end of his hallway, directly across from the bathroom. It was made of brushed stainless steel to stand out from the others in his apartment and. He placed his hand on a small terminal mounted to the wall. It scanned his fingerprints and logged his start time. 7:29, even a minute early today.

The door slid open silently, which made V feel like he was about to board a high tech space ship. Instead, it revealed an infinitely large office space, filled with cubicles and workers typing at computer terminals. The dull white light from endless lines of fluorescent tubes reflected off the waxed floor with the corporate logo - a stylized and pixilated eye - painted on it. As he entered, the door behind him vanished, replaced with a large timer, counting down from twelve hours to zero. The red block numbers floated eerily, with nothing visibly holding them up. He found his station, the only vacant cell, and started loading up his system.

Hey, V. Glad you could make it in. Here are your jobs for today. Seth, the department manager, slurped his coffee from a ceramic mug with the eye logo on it as he dropped a large file folder onto his desk. He had replaced his typical Hawaiian shirt and khaki shorts with a company mandated business suit, but the floral-print tie still exuded an aura of, I am more important than you will ever be, and I’m way cooler too.

Just wanted to say, your performance is way up this quarter. Hope you aren’t out for my job! He slapped V on the shoulder, laughed louder than was warranted. The man smelled like expensive cologne and body odour. He returned to the manager’s office before V could respond.

Time passed quickly, as each task was different. Some required complex logic programming, while others were simple question and answer surveys. He typed without becoming tired for the full shift, undistracted by co-workers in the completely silent office. The last task was finished with 14 minutes to spare, so he spent the remainder of his time checking email and refreshing his reddit inbox. The sent messages to Rhusky were still unanswered.

What were we even talking about? I can’t remember. Must not have been important.

As the timer ticked down to zero, the door reappeared along with a matching biometric hand terminal. He gathered himself and performed his return trip commute of roughly twelve steps, scanning his palm on the way out. Once through the door and back in his apartment, it vanished as it always had, only to return at 7:25 am the following day. He couldn’t remember how long his life had been like this, but the steady work and solid routine kept him satisfied. He never left the apartment, as there was no need; everything he could ever want was there. He knew from watching TV shows and movies that most people did things that he had no need to, like eating or passing waste into the toilet in his bathroom. In fact, V rarely stepped foot in the bathroom and was confused as to why it was even there. But every time he neared that door, he felt a strange feeling, as if some memory was anchored and drifting there in a foggy bay, just out of reach. It was a dull mix of surprise and arousal, but so faint that it would twist and writhe in his mind uncomfortably and without purpose until it finally dissipated.

The days rolled onwards and V eventually forgot about the outstanding message to Rhusky. His life progressed in a pleasant monotony, each day a carbon copy of the last. There were variances in the work tasks, but the structure was rigid and comfortable. He had state of the art virtual reality hardware, so he could experience anything that he was interested in. He visited fictional planets, travelled in space ships, and explored magical forests. He traveled to digital copies of real life monuments and interacted with artificial tour guides. He could summon any manner of erotic fantasy, but the thrill faded over time. Instead, he tested the limits of what he could create in the virtual world. He developed a program that let him build and store his own environments, separate from his work tasks. Anything he could imagine, he could generate. He built an entire world, with each city designed by hand. He filled it with strange creatures, wandering citizens, and terrifying monsters. He erected monolithic monuments, intricate temples, and sprawling complexes. He created a world for himself, and he ruled it. He spent hours in this place, creating stories for the artificial people to play out. He watched over them as they lived out their simple, programmed lives. As his simulation grew more complex, he would sometimes create great catastrophes, just to see what would happen. It was fun to watch them scramble to put out a thousand fires all at once, or try to recover from thirty seven consecutive tornadoes. He had just finished unleashing an alien invasion when an alarm on his phone reminded him to go to bed.

He returned the VR headset to its spot on the shelf, then checked his reddit inbox one last time before turning in for the night. He fell asleep instantly. Twenty minutes later his alarm sounded and he woke, fully rested.

That morning, Seth was waiting for him at his station.

Congratulations, V! You are being promoted to cyber security specialist, effective immediately. He handed him a small flash drive. It was coloured orange with a black exclamation mark on it, labelling it as crucial information. Apparently the higher-ups are happy with your performance, kid.

Thanks.

Seth leaned in and whispered, Don’t get used to it. I swear to Christ, if you are trying to steal my job, I will fucking end you. He stood back up and instantly switched to unfettered enthusiasm. You should install your new software so I can get you started on your first new task!

V twirled the black plastic case in his fingers for a moment then removed the cap that covered the USB connector. He inserted the drive into the port on the back of his neck and felt a flood of new information. The data swarmed his mind and imbedded itself in a million sockets in his brain. Security protocols, known exploitable vulnerabilities, and a massive catalog of viruses, malware, and other hacking tools were now at his disposal. His cubicle grew slightly and a second monitor appeared beside the original screen.

Ooh, double screens. The guys upstairs must really be impressed with you. He handed V a file folder, thin and dark. It contained a single sheet of paper filled with IP’s, MAC addresses, and email accounts.

Looks like a secured government intranet.

What do I know? I’m just paid to look good. Seth retreated to his office.

The task description on the page was a simple line: Infiltrate, extract, delete.

V scanned his upgraded software database and selected a virus that seemed appropriate. He attached it to an email with official looking government letterhead and a legitimate hacked email account. He scanned the list of every employee of the agency and analysed their public social media profiles to determine the most likely candidate for opening an unsolicited email attachment. Annabelle from accounting, 87%. Let’s give it a try.

Chapter 2

Personal log, Rhusky

January 13, 2019

He, or it, or whatever, is making things. I don’t know how. I’m looking at the files, and it’s seriously impressive. He’s only been in there for a few days, and he’s already adapting to anything we throw at him. We still can’t see exactly what he sees, but we can look at the files he generates.

What did we do?

I... I’m sorry V.

V pulled up a software dialog window and began to access the files. The infected attachment worked as expected and he now had full access to the network. He browsed the data and copied everything, as per the task instructions. Most of it was mundane: finance reports, call logs, and office emails. The only interesting folder, C:/Users/A.Vokev/%hidden%/personel/profiles, grabbed his attention. He opened it and found a list of thousands of names. Some were complete, but many were known aliases. Arthrax, Deus, Quo, who comes up with these names? As he scrolled down a little farther, he found a name that stunned him for a moment. Rhusky?

The split second that he read the name, a new emergency notification burst into view. It filled his field of vision and flashed yellow.

Critical directive, delete all files in this network immediately!

He had only ever seen a notification like this a few times before, and he didn't dare ignore it. He automatically started the process of erasing the data. As he prepared the profiles folder for disintegration, he paused. Rhusky... Why do I know that name? He quickly made a hidden folder and copied the contents of Rhusky into it before wiping the drive. He looked around, anxious that there might be some consequence for copying the file. It wasn't expressly against orders, but somehow it still felt wrong. He didn't understand why he even made the effort to save the folder, but somehow he knew that it was important. A dialog box appeared and confirmed the deletion. He clicked OK and shut down the program with 2 minutes to