Outside the rain was pouring down. From inside his room the huge mass of a troll could hear the drops pouring down on the gravel paths outside. The smell of humidity and must filled the air. Although it was the middle of the day no one could tell. The booming clouds maneuvered as if to out do the sun, blocking all rays of sunshine from reaching their destination.
It was into this expanse that XRC-17 stared, but not for long. The heavy drops of moisture were only slightly more depressing than the sight of his room. In one corner there was a stark set of drawers adorned only with some bits of paper that sat atop of it. The brownness of the chest matched the comfortable bed, which was the only other piece of furniture in the room. The fluffy mattress had seen many nights with the heavy troll lying on top of it. Unfortunately for XRC-17, the bed wasn't much for conversation. He had hoped that one day the corp would spice up his life. Maybe steal some other miserable soul form his parents, stick a bunch of high-tech experimental cyberware in his body and throw him in a room to be forgotten about. At least he'd have someone to shoot the drek with. It was a thought anyway.
The bed creaked under the pressure of XRC-17. It was used to it by now, but still liked to remind the troll that jumping up and down would not be a joke that it would appreciate. As far as trolls go XRC-17 wasn't a particularly huge one. Sure he was big, but not gigantic. He stood, or rather lay at just slightly over nine feet and induced around 495 pounds of pressure on the bed. Well built and muscular, the troll had seen his days in the workout room, but the corp's neglect was beginning to make itself present. To pass the time now that his heyday was over, XRC-17 usually did push-ups on the carpeted floor, while the sun shone in threw the sole window and danced off of his shaven head. The clothes he sported weren't fashionable; not that it was a major concern. His outfit was complete with a long sleeve T-shirt and khaki pants, finished off with a pair of boots. XRC-17 owned nothing else, and had no connections to anyone, outside the corp personnel who had chosen to have the high honor of working on such a cutting edge project.
The XRC project started out as a hobby really. A couple of high up corp types were fiddling around with some of their scientist's equipment, specifically some of the cyberware production units. They went a bit nuts and ended up pumping out some plans for bone lacing so advanced that when the scientist finally did yell at his boss for screwing up their research he almost threw out the plans. The guy didn't even know what he was looking at. Luckily for the executives, they fired that guy and hired a new set of researchers to investigate the variation.
From what XRC-17 picked up, the first five people to try the lacing procedures developed severe hemorrhages internally and died within seven hours, but the strength ratings were so high off the charts, that the project went top secret underground. Eventually number seventeen arrived and he wasn't dead yet.
"Funny thing though," XRC-17 thought out loud, "I don't even feel any stronger than before I had the surgery."
Down the hallway footsteps could be heard. They weren't heavy like a troll's though, more like one of those average humans. A set of keys jingled and XRC-17 could make out the sound of the locking mechanism shifting from within the door. He had heard that sound a million times before: the key went in, stop, a metal contact was reached and then the guard said his name into the microphone. A few seconds passed as the signal was checked against a prerecorded voice print stored in the security room downstairs. Then, as if in one fluid motion, the key turned to the left, counter clock-wise, and the dead bolt was released hydraulically.
II.
In another room Dr. Bradley was sweating like he had never done before in his life. From his brow a single drop of the salty mixture, lingered only for a second before traveling down his long nose and fell to the computer deck huddled on his lap. If you were to come upon the doctor from afar you would think that he was comatose, but upon further investigation the spiraling cord that brought the deck and the doctor together could be seen exiting from his left temple where his alpha-ware datajack was located. This device brought the virtual reality that was the matrix alive in the mind of its user. Via this computer world, Dr. Bradley was in the process of dodging through security measures in an effort to thwart whatever resistance was bound to be protecting the surveillance equipment controls. From his dimly lit lab room in the back of the research and development department of Bangle Industries, the good doctor was about to break every law that the corporation had set up.
In a number based world, streams of data could be seen in the form of waterfalls just beyond a clearing in the jungle of computer data that Bradley was navigating. His icon displayed him as a tarzan-like explorer, complete with long hair and a spear in hand. Wearing what looked like a backpack he stopped to rest while the search program he had launched did its job.
Bradley was looking for the access node that would give him a chance at controlling all of the security camera slaves. He wanted to feed a tape loop onto the monitors, so that his team of operatives could move undetected throughout the complex, and avoid any unnecessary run-ins with the guards. Unfortunately, these slaves were protected by a slew of IC that were waiting to rip him to shreds; only if he was lucky enough to find the slaves in the first place. Bradley had never been a troublemaker before. He reported to work every day, just like all of his other fellow employees. He ran the tests that the corporation wanted him to, and he handed over the data, no questions asked. It was a job, and a rewarding one at that. He got to use the knowledge that he learned back in college, and add to it at groundbreaking levels. The corporation was good to him. They paid well, and had so many benefit plans that as Bradley waited in their computer jungle, a wave of newfound guilt swept over him.
"What the hell am I doing? I'm going to get myself killed," were the thoughts running through his mind.
But before he had a chance to pull the plug from his head, a small white rat hopped onto his shoulder, and then disappeared into liquid binary. However Nibbles, as Bradley had so affectionately named him, had completed his task with little difficulty. In his hand, he held the location of all the security slaves. With the pass codes he had stolen early, before this eventful night, he would be able to access them no problem.
Bradley rose from the log he had been sitting on, and with a swing of his head to get his unwashed hair out of his eyes, he started off on another hike to complete the mission he had begun. In a mind-boggling feat of speed he leaped to the trees and began to catch the vines while progressing ever onwards.
III.
With a thump, the good doctor landed on the other end of the node he had just progressed through. He raised his head slowly, and his eyes steadied on the figurine in front of him. Covered with vines and other various greens, the slave was in the shape of a truncated head statue. It stood around a yard and a half tall, and was beginning to sink into the moist mud that surrounded it. A few birds were roused from the trees as Bradley moved quickly towards it.
In a sculpted system, the different parts of the computer were always depicted around one central theme. The programmers, who designed the architecture for Bangle Industries had chosen a jungle theme. It suited their needs, and the needs of the high-end executives who were just as concerned about their image, as in the need for a secure hub from which they could conduct their online business. The matrix gave the inhabitants of 2050 Seattle so much access to information, that nothing was really secure, though, if you had the pass codes, or the skills. Following that logic Bangle Inc. thought they could deter intruders if they presented a system fraught with lurking imagery. The mysteries of the jungles had always been a part of the company's philosophy, and the brutality that often follows the path of dark forests was no stranger in their arena either.
The head standing in front of Bradley, was the last one in the series. Each head controlled approximately eleven cameras throughout the building, and Bradley had already visited five others. From his backpack he pulled out the tape loop, and began to enter in the commands that would substitute the live footage with this new pre-recorded view. His mind flew as the excitement of his plan resurfaced in his head.
"This plan is perfect," he thought to himself. "They will never suspect me, and their IC hasn't even been activated yet. Maybe Gus was able to get them off-line, like I asked him, or maybe I just haven't made any errors like I thought I would, or maybe they're just waiting for me somewhere... There, all finished. This should fool them for about two hours. Plenty of time for my team to get the hell out of the building. I think they should be at the cell by now."
Bradley, packed up his programs, and made a few more commands to cover up his work. With luck, they wouldn't be able to trace the fix back to his jack point in the lab. With luck, he may actually be able to go about his job, as if he had no idea how there could have been a security breech. In the real world, Bradley's body was soaked with sweat, but a sense of calmness came over it with the completion of his final task.
Once again traversing the vines of navigation, a Tarzan-like icon was swinging his way into the jungle's clearing from where it had originally came. From one branch to the next, the doctor confidently maneuvered in and out, around each tree. He began to feel like he owned the system, like he was the only person who could make a run like this go down. A grin the size of a watermelon sprung up on Bradley's face as he ran the events of the night through his brain again. His exhilaration was incomprehensible. He was alert and his heart was beating and his mind was free. A felled log was ten meters away now, but he quickly changed from his left hand to his right and swooped gracefully to an adjacent vine. With a deliberate kick his body arched in the air and he let loose the vine. Floating in virtual air for longer than was physically possible, he then sped towards the grass with beautiful energy. The waterfalls of data now loomed to his right, beckoning for a visit from prying eyes.
