The Resonance Enigma

By Carlyle Edmundson

Playing a game in the real world means you're never logged out.

To find a gamer's killer, private detective Lance Canela must log in to the Augmented Reality Game, Resonance. But even in a virtual world, the machinations of the megacorps are always in motion. What secret lies within the game’s servers, and how does it relate to the strange girl waiting for her murdered friend to return?

Find out in The Resonance Enigma, the latest book in the Dystopian Detective series, following from The Arcology and Eidolon.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Carlyle Edmundson
• Release date: Jun 1, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370805501

Carlyle Edmundson

A lifelong fan of science and science fiction, Carlyle Edmundson is a blogger and aspiring filmmaker from North Carolina. His first book, The Arcology, launched the Lance Canela series, which hits on modern social issues with a dystopian, cyberpunk style.

Book preview

THE RESONANCE ENIGMA

Carlyle Edmundson

© Copyright 2017 Carlyle Edmundson

Distributed by Smashwords

Cover Art by William Glover

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 your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

For my grandmother Corinne;

May she rest in peace.

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 1

They used to say that March moves in like a lion, and the heavy gusts of wind ripping down between the buildings were at least that ferocious. It was the other part, the out like a lamb, which never matched my experience; in the fractured climate of Kindred, the slow shifts between seasons were the most difficult parts of the year, and spring’s arrival fought hard to earn that distinction. The hive-like activity of aerocars leaving and entering the Arcology had ceased, the wind shear too great for their engines today. Clouds in the gray skies swept past its peak, their rapid flow serving as proof that things were no calmer up there than down here. If there was one great equalizer left in this world, it had to be the weather. At least it wasn’t raining—at the moment, anyway.

All this really meant for me was that business had hit its slowest point as people remained indoors. In the past, these slow periods had just meant more time to myself, but with my budget already stretched thin this month, I wasn’t sure how much longer I’d be able to go. As the gust died down, I set out back to my office, stomach still rumbling from the meager lunch I’d been able to scrape together out of the contents of my cupboard. I kept my eyes down and held my hat in place as I walked, until I spotted someone standing around at Marcy Dexter, a pathetic excuse for a park that stretched out a few blocks down the road. Devoid of grass and with only a few sparse trees, the lanky figure was hard to miss against the hard concrete, and I considered for a moment warning him of the recent string of muggings that had taken place there right around sunset, but he walked off before I drew any closer, staring at his phone all the while.

I continued on, ducking around the caution tape and construction signs setup in the street outside my building. Upstairs, I unlocked the new door with its pebbled glass window—it didn’t match the frosted panes surrounding it, but the words LANCE CANELA, PRIVATE DETECTIVE scrawled across it the way I’d always wanted more than made up for that fact. I hung up my trenchcoat and began digging around the bookshelves, trying to figure out what to read, when a knock on the glass grabbed my attention. The tall man on the other side of the door stopped to remove his glasses before turning the handle.

Come on in, I said, sitting down behind my desk. A wave of excitement swept over me at the thought of having a client again.

Thanks. Mister Canela, I assume? the man replied as he approached in two long strides. His dirty blonde hair was disheveled, as if he’d spent a while out in the wind, but his clothes maintained an impeccable sense of style, a tailored, expensive business casual look.

Call me Lance. What can I do for you?

My name’s Matt Turner. I’m looking for some assistance with an online stalker who’s been bothering me as of late, he said. I slumped back in the chair slightly, trying to conceal my disappointment.

Well, I’m sorry to hear that, but it sounds like a matter for the police. Have you tried contacting them instead?

I did, in fact. Because it’s primarily occurring online, and I’ve never met my stalker face-to-face, they said there wasn’t much I could do. I did some looking around on my own, and I was able to find his name. I know he’s here in Kindred… He looked past me, as if catching sight of his reflection in the window. He ran his hand through his hair, trying to get it back under control.

Where is this harassment occurring? Social media?

I’ll be honest—it started in a game, he said, gesturing towards the glasses tucked away in his breast pocket. Even I could recognize them as Gyrospec’s top-of-the-line AR model. Look, I know his name, I know he’s here, and I’m worried he’s going to hurt me. All I’m asking is that you watch him for a while and make sure he’s not planning anything. You can do that, right?

Tailing people and keeping them under surveillance was part of the job, but it was usually to catch cheating spouses or people lying about injuries, although much of the latter had been taken up by big data surveillance firms. It was dull work that often left me feeling slimy, though in my current predicament I couldn’t really afford to be picky. He noticed my hesitation and began to get up.

I can see you’re uncomfortable with this… it’s okay, I’ll take it elsewhere. Thanks for your time.

No, wait, I said. He stood up the rest of the way and paused. You’re really worried about your safety?

Yes. This guy’s behavior is erratic. There’s no telling what he might do. Matt stared down, his lightly freckled face firm and expressionless. A hint of uncertainty lingered, but the final notice on my electric bill made the decision for me.

Alright. Let’s take down some information, and I’ll get the details on the case.

He gave a relieved smile and sat back down in the chair.

***

Of all that I’d read about being a private detective in my books, the one thing that ended up being true to life was how boring a stakeout could be. After all, it’s just waiting around for something to happen; there’s no way to make that exciting, so authors rarely tried. In turn-of-the-millennium films it usually meant sitting in a car and eating fast food, but I didn’t have a car, or money for food, and Matt had given me a residential address in a lower-middle-class region of town, north of the Arcology, where just hanging around on the street would be highly suspicious. After circling the block a few times, I set up watch in a convenience mart up the road, at the courtesy tables near a coffee vending machine. Now approaching sunset, there’d been no sign of the young man Matt had accused of being his stalker. I’d done only the barest of research before setting out, hoping to catch him on his way home from some corporate desk job, but as that grew less and less likely, I took to my phone to start anew.

Dwayne Ayers was his name, and he looked to be in his mid-twenties from the underused social media profiles that Matt had grabbed his info from. He apparently had an older sister named Madeline, who it seemed either lived with him or very nearby. Something about his profiles struck me as odd; rather than a self-taken profile picture that had been over-manipulated in a photo editor, it looked to be cropped from some sort of group shot that wasn’t retouched at all. His eyes avoided returning the camera’s gaze, and the smile on his chubby face couldn’t have looked more forced. Whatever he did, he definitely wasn’t part of the nine-to-five set.

The convenience mart had only bought me about two hours before the anti-vagrancy systems started to activate, so I headed back out into the windy streets. Approaching the apartment building, I decided to step inside and take a look, in the hopes that I might find a clue as to where I could actually see him. When I reached for the handle, the door swung outward. Standing in the threshold was a woman in dark blue scrubs, her curly black hair pulled back into a ponytail. Our eyes met, and there was a spark of recognition as I realized it was Madeline.

Oh, uh, excuse me, I said, trying to conceal my surprise as I held the door open. She shook off the tired, dazed expression on her face and stepped through, but took a moment to look back before heading down to the corner. I entered the hall and silently cursed my luck; making contact with the people you’re surveilling was pretty much the biggest mistake I could have made, and I’d already managed it entirely by accident within the first few hours. It’d be better not to linger too close now, so I searched up and down the halls quickly, unsurprised when nothing useful turned up. Just door after door, each identical to the last. Even the mailbox room was empty, without any fliers or notices, no hint of community. Not so different from my own place, despite outward appearances.

I got out of there as soon as I finished my sweep and headed home. I didn’t expect to see much activity with the sister gone, and with the mart’s systems on alert I wouldn’t be able to watch anyway. Dwayne’s profiles indicated, to me at least, that he wasn’t one to go out to bars or clubs in the evenings, and with their conflict having started in an online game I had a hard time imagining him doing anything besides sitting in front of a VR gaming rig until the darkest hours of the night. A little more research, performed over a bowl of instant ramen with a questionable expiration date, showed that his sister Madeline was a nursing assistant at Camilla Roberts Memorial Hospital, probably half an hour from their apartment on a good day. She also had afternoon classes on Tuesdays and Thursdays at the community college near the ports, working towards a full nursing license, which gave me a plan for tomorrow. That settled, it was time to hit the bed before another long day, even if the unsettling howl of winds down the street made it difficult to sleep.

***

The gale outside had calmed somewhat by dawn, although that feeling had stayed with me through the night. I dug around for a few tools that I didn’t often have need to use, at last locating them and leaving right around seven A.M. I ordered the autotaxi to circle the block a few times as we drew close to the Ayers’ apartment, and on the third loop was rewarded with the sight of Madeline returning home, a bag of breakfast food in her hand. Since more than twelve hours had passed, I was able to setup at the convenience mart again, this time opting for a vended coffee in the hopes that it’d buy me a while longer before kicking me out.

As it turned out, the extra time hardly mattered; the window I’d figured out was theirs had a blackout curtain over it, and they didn’t leave the building before I was encouraged to move along again by the machine around noon. I paced around the block a few times, trying hard not to look suspicious, until at last I saw Dwayne. His medium-length brown hair had that same unkempt look to it that I’d seen in the profile picture, and he kept his eyes, hidden behind AR glasses much older than Matt’s, to the ground. He stood outside for a moment, anxiously playing with the phone in his hand, before looking back into the door. He said something, and I quickly fished a tool out of my pocket—a directional microphone attachment for my phone, which I pointed in his direction. A clearly exhausted Madeline made her way out the door, wearing another set of scrubs in a slightly different shade of blue. I popped in the ear piece and listened as she spoke up.

Alright… where was it you wanted to go again? she asked, summoning a taxi with her phone. The wind was still strong enough to cause some interference, but I could hear well enough to make out what she was saying.

I need to reestablish my Zone, he replied, as if that answered anything. They destroyed it again last night!

You gotta tell me where, Dwayne. I don’t remember the corners like you do.

Crescent Celebrations. Medisale Pharmacy number 22875. Greenbough Family Park. Historic Coastal Marketplace. He recited the locations in a clinical manner, perhaps reading a list from his phone. I took down the names, but most of them didn’t mean anything to me. Dwayne climbed inside the cab as soon as it pulled up, giving Madeline a moment’s peace to sigh and rub her eyes in a vain attempt at waking herself up before joining him. As their cab took off, I called one to me and began searching the phrases he’d spouted. The taxi app recognized them as valid locations, somehow, and soon I was headed off in the same direction, pharmacy ads playing in the car all the while.

About ten minutes later, I pulled up at the entrance to a science museum which I hadn’t even known existed. Dwayne and Madeline stood outside it, staring up at a large metal sculpture of a crescent moon, alongside a plaque detailing the cultural significance of the phases of the moon throughout history. Dwayne held his phone with one hand and made strange gestures with the other, while his half-awake sister waited patiently for him to finish whatever it was that he was doing. I rolled the window down a bit and pointed the microphone their way again.

About done?

No… ugh… he’s really messed it all up this time, Dwayne grumbled. I’ll have to set up three SDs here when I’m back in Tundeline. Even when the Zone’s back up, it’ll be too out of sync like this.

Madeline walked over and leaned against the plaque in a way that suggested she’d done it a thousand times before. He continued his gestures for a few minutes longer, until screaming loud enough that the microphone had trouble processing it. I winced as it hit my ear piece, and a flock of pigeons, just as disturbed, took off for the far end of the museum’s property.

What? What’s wrong? she asked, newly alert.

That asshole blocked me! Dwayne shouted, running his free hand erratically through his hair several times. We have to go to the Langdon Community Theater. I can’t do anything until we hit that first.

Langdon? Dwayne, that’s forty-five minutes out of the way. I won’t have time to drop you off before class. Can’t you work around that somehow?

No, Maddie! There’s another zone that blocks half of mine. I can’t reestablish until it’s out of the way, and it only gets harder the longer it’s there. Dwayne looked over at her pleadingly. Historic Coastal Marketplace isn’t that far from the college. I’ll get it when you’re in class.

I don’t know… will you really be okay getting home on your own?

I can do it myself, you don’t have to treat me like a baby all the time. Madeline heaved herself up off the plaque and shook her head in resignation.