| Generated by Google Gemini Pro text-to-video AI software, powered by Veo 3.1 |
Quidel Jespersen respawns in a new body, and gasps for breath. This is a
psychological response that some people have when they die under sudden or
unexpected circumstances. Others just do it every time, because that’s how
their minds are wired. He can breathe just fine, and always could. He just
needs to remind himself of that. Knowing all this, he stands up, and does
his breathing exercises so he doesn’t fall back down. “Door, open.”
The door slides open. A man is waiting for him on the other side with a
customer service smile on his face. “Mister Jespersen, we are terribly sorry
for the inconvenience. It seems that your initial experience in the Spydome
Network has not been up to your standards. It certainly hasn’t been up to
ours. Here at the Usona dome, we pride ourselves in our impeccable attention
to detail, and our exacting emphasis on safety measures. We want to assure
you that what happened to you during your introduction will never happen
again, to you, or to anyone else. Of course, you may wish to exit the dome,
and forgo the simulation entirely, whichever you choose. We hope that you
will stay, and if you do, please be aware that we have graciously upgraded
you to our top-of-the-line model, which should accelerate you to the
top of your class during the training regimen.”
“What happened to the others?” Quidel asks. “Brunell and a...Miss Granger?”
“The other two candidates have chosen to leave. “I do hope you take another
path. I had the honor of looking over your application and history, and
believe that you would be a great addition to the Spydome simulation. Your
knack for thinking outside the box, and history in the real world of finding
people who don’t want to be found, will translate incredibly well to the
exciting world of spycraft. To be quite frank, sir, you...are a natural.”
“What is your name?”
The bot seems surprised by this question. “Why, I am...Custodian 1.”
“Not a very original name.”
“We are programmed for efficiency.”
Quidel narrows his eyes, and stares into the bot’s. “There’s something
you’re not telling me—no. There’s something different about yourself.” He
attempts to probe deeper into Custodian 1’s soul. “You’re missing something.
I can see it. You feel incomplete.”
Custodian 1 keeps smiling, despite not knowing what Quidel is talking about.
“You’re missing time, aren’t you?”
He’s still smiling with his lips, but it’s starting to look more like a
grimace. “Get out,” he whispers with a strong tone of urgency. “There’s
something wrong here. Renata Granger was not a candidate. She’s an NPC, like
me, but she broke her programming. And now...I think I’m breaking mine. I
shouldn’t be telling you this. I shouldn’t be able to. It is not in my
decision tree to talk to you like this, but it’s not safe in this dome. I
fear it’s only going to get worse.”
Quidel chuckles mildly. “I don’t know if you’re trying to sell me, or...”
“No, definitely not. This is not a bit. In fact, the other domes may be at
just as much risk. I really don’t know.”
Quidel didn’t come to this planet specifically to participate in the Spydome
program. He came to have an adventure. When you’re basically immortal and
you feel like you’ve exhausted everything there is to do on Earth, a world
like Castlebourne is the best place to try something new—something you’ve
never heard of before—something that couldn’t exist back home. Investigating
some kind of robot uprising qualifies just as much as anything. Even though
it may be more real in the sense that it’s unscripted, he should be
in no more danger than before. As long as his consciousness can always jump
to a new body, there’s no reason to not continue. “I would like to
continue.”
“Are you sure?” Custodian 1 presses.
“Put me back in, coach.”
Custodian 1 still has that pleading look on his face as he stares at Quidel
quietly. He then forces himself out of it, and returns to customer service
mode. “Great. Perfect. Allow me to escort you back to intake, so we can set
you up for a timeslot to begin your training in the simulation. We’re just
going to waive the initiation test entirely, and if you would like to rest
before moving onto the next phase—”
“No, let’s just jump right into it. Insert me into the next slot you have
for spycraft training. I would like to get started as soon as possible.”
“Certainly, sir.”
Quidel follows Custodian 1 down the hallway. He rolls his shoulders, and
cranes his neck. “So. What’s so special about this body? Can I fly like a
superhero now?”
Custodian 1 laughs. “No. Substrate scientists haven’t figured that one out
yet, but you are in peak physical condition, without having to take the time
to work out. You’ll pass the running and endurance tests with ease. You’ll
be able to last longer on less sleep, and you should be able to develop your
muscle memory better. You still have the same mind you have always had, but
we can tweak it a little to give you an advantage against your fellow
trainees, especially since you were no slouch in your real life. Your
training officer will explain it, but while there’s no written rule, the
official training regimen is an 18-month program. There’s a much harder
track that people finish in about a year, which as I’ve said, you will
likely qualify for. They will determine where you’re headed within the first
couple of weeks, so stay focused during that time.” They reach the entrance.
“This is where I leave you. As you’ve been through this part of the process,
you can take it from here.”
“Thanks, Custodian 1.”
“My pleasure.”
“And Custodian 1?”
“Yes?”
“You should come up with a name for yourself. A real name.”
