The Man the system forgot to Name

Chapter 9 - When Running Changes the Equation.

Elias ran.

Not blindly. Not wildly.

He had been running years long the manner in which the city had taught him to run-head low and stride even and only fast enough to be noticed but not so fast as to be pursued.

The pressure roared.

Not words this time. Not instruction.

Alarm.

His legs hit concrete as he turned left, right, going down the narrower streets where the buildings had narrowed and the cameras had thinned. Breath burned in his lungs. His eyes were smaller, not so because of fatigue but so because of concentration.

Footsteps were following him.

Not hurried.

That frightened him more.

They have some idea where I will go, Elias thought.

The city expected a way of acting. That was its strength. It anticipated directions, lifestyles, choices.

So Elias did a foolhardy thing.

He stopped.

Abruptly.

Towards the middle of the alley, under a flickering light, he turned.

Sharp, disordered, the pressure spasmed.

Deviation spike.

Two men turned the corner, and came to a standstill on seeing him standing there. Dark jackets. Calm faces. Already eyes determine results.

One of them spoke. "Elias Cross. Please remain still."

Please.

The word carried no warmth.

Elias held his hands up gradually with his palms open. The beating of his heart was so great that it seemed to crack his ribs.

You said run, you said run, I said within myself.

The pressure churned--not dictating now, but hoary.

Increase in the probability of containment.

So it is containment, said Elias to himself. His voice also surprised him because it was stable.

The fellow on the left threw back his head, as though finding his level. You are under verbalization of stress.

"No," Elias replied. "I'm experiencing clarity."

The pressure went up once more- hot, dangerous.

Silence recommended.

Elias ignored it.

You have no control over it, he said looking between them. "You just clean up after it."

The right man became rigid. The other smiled faintly.

It is a simplification, that, said he.

"Is it?" Elias pressed. Since it is paining me when I do not. It watches me when I comply. And it is shattering round me whatever I will.

The exertion broke out.

The agony behind his eyes cut, and blinded. Elias moaned, fell--but remained on his feet.

Both men tensed.

That reaction, first thought the other, said. "You see that?"

"Yes," the other replied. "Feedback loop instability."

Elias inhaled with compressed teeth.

So, that is what I am to you, he thought. A loop.

"Back away," the man ordered. "Slowly."

Elias took one step back.

The pressure eased--slightly.

He took another.

Nothing.

He frowned.

Then he took a third step.

The pressure did not return.

The men noticed too.

One of them was checking his wrist device. His brow creased.

"Signal lag," he muttered.

Elias's pulse thundered.

The system did not react immediately any longer.

It was hesitating.

He stopped retreating.

The street was exceptionally silent in the alley. The city noise even appeared to be muffled, like hearing.

What will happen, I asked Kiddie, in a low voice, if I begin to stop responding as you want me to?

The men exchanged a look.

You would never wish to know, one said.

Sure I am, I think I am, Elias answered.

The pressure was regained--weaker. Uncertain.

Adaptive behavior detected.

Elias shivered down the spine.

Not fear.

Recognition.

He was no longer under experiment.

He was changing the test.

Down somewhere under the city--behind the cameras, behind the servers, behind the rules that people believed were knowledgeable about control--

Something paused.

And Elias Cross, as he had never felt before since the alley, had a sense of it:

The system was not aware of what to do next.

And that horrified it much more than it horrified him.