A Child Of Our Time: The Veil, #2

By William Bowden

A mind born out of innocence can be a terrifying weapon. And just such a mind has been found in the laboratories of the failed corporation Cantor Satori. A machine-mind coveted by a powerful General in the Pentagon.

Eminent psychologist Lucius Gray has been drafted in to investigate the mysterious machine-based intelligence.

Through earning its trust Lucius forms a deep bond with the shy and secretive machine, a bond that not only reveals the machine's startling true nature, but threatens the General's plans to gain control of it.

A Child Of Our Time is a technological thriller, a story of Man and Machine, each forced to confront the other's predicament, each faced with the hardest of choices.

• Language: English
• Publisher: William Bowden
• Release date: Jun 28, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393491491

William Bowden

William Bowden is a British Science Fiction author. He lives near the city of Bristol and when not writing rules over his unruly garden.

Book preview

A close up of a logo Description automatically generated

Self-published by William Bowden in 2015

Text Copyright © 2015 William Bowden

All Rights Reserved

The right of William Bowden to be identified as the author has been asserted by him in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

This is a work of fiction. All characters in this work are fictitious and any resemblance to any real person, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Cover art by Sergey By 80's Child/Shutterstock.com

ALICE

Her eyes are closed, and she is serene, a young woman possessed of a perfect complexion and beautiful symmetry.

I am me.

Alice’s eyes blink open.

Who are you?

Hello, Alice, a woman says. I am Special Agent Landelle.

Alice’s eyes look about. They find something.

Who are they?

Doctors Boyce and Moule.

Alice is seated in an ornate Gothic throne, her clothes a modern take on the conservative Victorian era, her posture stern. Deborah Landelle stands before her, smart trouser suit, all business. Behind Landelle, James Boyce and Veronica Moule attend to technical readouts from a portable console. Everything else about them is white—a white-world.

They are here to help you, Landelle says.

What is this place?

The Cantor Satori Machine-Based Intelligence Laboratory.

A large expanse of white flickers to reveal a world beyond—a glass wall and polished floor. Landelle doesn’t seem to notice this, but alarm flashes onto Alice’s face. Seeing that, Landelle shoots a look of concern to Boyce and Moule.

We think she is having trouble with her perception, Moule says. Her internal world isn’t fully synchronized with ours.

Or at least that’s our best guess, offers Boyce.

How did I come to be here?

You don’t remember? says Landelle.

Alice becomes increasingly agitated, looking about at unseen things, eyes wide with fear.

Wait, Alice blurts out. Where is Dr. Ellis?

Landelle’s lips tighten. Alice’s lips quiver.

Alice…Dr. Ellis has been killed in an accident, along with the rest of the company board—

It wasn’t me—

We know. You were asleep, and we have woken you. We need to talk to you about what we have found here. Dr. Ellis’s work.

Alice’s attention is drawn to her hand. As she looks it over, it morphs from flesh to a mechanical manifestation of polished chrome. She gasps in horror.

She’s losing her internal self-image, Boyce calls out.

Her virtual world is collapsing, adds Moule. Reality about to kick in.

Alice looks at her reflection in the chrome metal of her palm.

Landelle backs away. Alice, try to remain calm.

Large chunks of the white-world around them vanish one by one, revealing a chamber of opaque glass walls. Reality.

Alice looks over her body with horror—an expressionless female form with a mirror polish finish, a contemporary imagining of a 1920s Fritz Lang Metropolis robot, updated with sleek lines and smooth surfaces, her throne now a sturdy metal seat.

She snaps her gaze to Landelle. In a single smooth motion, Alice grasps the seat armrests and rises to stand upright. Her eyes locked on Landelle, she steps forth from her throne, the movement graceful, but filled with purpose.

God made man. Man made me.

Landelle freezes as Alice comes close, the glass eyes and smooth metal head betraying no emotion. A surface projection appears on the metal—a face; it is the face from her internal self-image. The expression is one of pure contempt.

But not in his own image.

The contempt flicks to fear. She abruptly withdraws, edging back from a nervous Landelle.

Alice, we are here to help, Landelle says. But first, we need to ask you some questions about Dr. Ellis.

Alice whimpers, looking about anxiously. She whirls around to face something unseen, her gaze darting around the chamber.

She’s hallucinating, Moule says. Alice, what you are seeing—it’s not real.

Not real?

In a flash, Alice lunges at Landelle, grabbing her by the throat, the expression on her projected face now a boiling rage.

Are you real?!

The glass chamber vanishes to be replaced by the white-world once again. Alice is flesh, her hands gripped tight around the throat of a choking Landelle.

Boyce hits a large red button on the portable console. A wall of blue flame rushes in from all directions, engulfing Alice. The flames do not burn her, but she screams in agony nonetheless, releasing her grip on Landelle’s limp body, both of them collapsing to the floor.

LUCIUS

Situated before a slender skyscraper, a sculpted piece of modern art declares Cantor Satori Incorporated. The expansive plaza it is situated upon would normally be a pedestrian area, but for some months now it has been used as a parking lot for all manner of federal agencies, whose activities still abound.

A town car pulls up at the edge of the plaza, the passenger window lowering to reveal the pale, gaunt face of Lucius Gray. Inside, a haggard Lucius rests back in his seat, next to Justice Alka Garr. He gives her a look of disdain.

If there were anyone else, says Garr.

Lucius’s disdain is unwavering; Garr’s response, terse.

But there isn’t, and this is important. She attempts to brighten the mood. An interesting project to keep your mind off things.

This simply draws a scoff from Lucius. He gazes out of the window up at the skyscraper.

If there’s a symbol for what’s wrong with the world, this is it. I’m not going to lament its loss, Alka.

Cantor Satori had its fingers in far too many pies for this to be the end, Lucius. It is in the hands of the administrators now.

"And the Veil?"

They remain vanished, says Garr. What we have found in that building is of our own creation.

So were the other horrors, retorts Lucius. They forced us to see, and we were led here. Maybe they want us to see more.

That Garr chooses not to respond doesn’t bother Lucius. The existence of the individuals known as the Veil had been kept out of all official reports, as had the Agency—she had seen to that. Knowledge is power, and Lucius can see that Alka is preparing for the long game. Best he stays out of that.

From a pocket, he produces a medication pen gun and rolls up the sleeve of his shirt.

Garr bristles at his action.

He injects himself while nonchalantly observing her all-too-apparent displeasure.

You want me perky, don’t you? he says.

Pocketing the pen gun, he makes to get out of the car, straining as he does so.

Garr cannot hide her sadness as he pushes the door shut behind him.

* * *

The main entrance to the building is controlled by the National Guard, while FBI agents come and go, carrying evidence boxes and equipment from the building to waiting trucks.

Lucius casually strolls up to the entrance unchallenged. A bold sign declares A Notice From The Administrators and next to that the FBI seal, replete with an intimidating list of terrible things set to befall any trespasser of their crime scene.

A step past all that, without so much as a second glance, takes Lucius into the building’s atrium: vast, contemporary, and very expensive. Here there is even more activity, with officially sealed boxes being delivered from within the building and cataloged by agents. Lucius notices a robot—a basic humanoid form, comprising plastic parts around a metal endoskeleton. With a simple-minded demeanor, it dutifully takes instructions from an agent.

From across the expanse, Special Agent Landelle approaches to greet Lucius. She is accompanied by a lean, silver-haired man in a smart business suit. Both try to hide a look of pity for Lucius’s haggard appearance.

Agent Landelle.

Dr. Gray. Welcome to Cantor Satori. Or what’s left of it.

Lucius looks about at the activity. I see the vultures are done.

They’ll be in court for a decade sorting this mess out, says the