{"id":142,"date":"2018-07-16T14:10:38","date_gmt":"2018-07-16T21:10:38","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/ceruleanchameleon.com\/?p=142"},"modified":"2018-08-02T18:26:56","modified_gmt":"2018-08-03T01:26:56","slug":"safe-at-night-original-short-story","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/ceruleanchameleon.com\/index.php\/2018\/07\/16\/safe-at-night-original-short-story\/","title":{"rendered":"Safe At Night \u2013 Original Short Story"},"content":{"rendered":"

Glowing windows blinked like a million tiny eyes among the skyscrapers of Seattle, Northern Cascadia. On clear nights, the sky stretched in a solid sheet of dark navy punctuated only by the moon. There were no lights up there. History told of how humanity had plucked the stars from the sky and placed them on earth.<\/span><\/p>\n

Even among a scenery of radiant skyscrapers, the Seattle Nintendo headquarters were unmistakable. Beneath the neon sign that boldly declared the company\u2019s name in vivid red, the entire building brightened its walls with colorful lights, displaying vastly-magnified images of iconic characters from early games. Each glass-walled room was a pixel in an animated 32-bit painting. On the roof, a five-story-tall hologram of its three-dimensional \u201cN\u201d logo rotated slowly.<\/span><\/p>\n

In 2099, the company had launched its first virtual reality campaign headed by Max Heywood. Eleven years later and Heywood had become the research and development head of the company\u2014and a renowned billionaire. Through advanced holography, hyper-realistic headset technology, and lifelike artificial intelligence among a variety of other developments, Max Heywood and Nintendo remained at the forefront of not only the video game industry, but much of the technological progress marking the turn of the century.<\/span><\/p>\n

In the high-tech basement of a worn-down building, Max Heywood\u2019s pristine photo flickered on a holoscreen.<\/span><\/p>\n

A woman in black opened a folder of paper files and scrawled a note in the margins. \u201cDefamation is ideal,\u201d she spoke aloud. \u201cBut assassination isn\u2019t out of the question.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Her audience of four watched with bated breath. Projects like these took months to prepare for, and the team had taken more than enough time on research, identification chip forgery, fingerprint fraud, contact lens commissioning, DNA collection, and as much attempted hacking as possible. Although anything that Max Heywood had ever posted or made public was fair game through the data cloud, his private server was another matter due to the most overwhelming security measures any of them had ever encountered. This was not just anyone. This was a technical genius.<\/span><\/p>\n

The Cascadia crime syndicate\u2014if they could even call their small group of investigative vigilantes that\u2014challenged the distorted status quo in dangerous ways. Corruption was rampant in urban centers where the tech-minded elite misused workers and information for company profit. The team therefore responded accordingly, exposing wrongdoings or using other means to terminate misconduct. They\u2019d investigated enough people to know that everyone had their secrets, and those in power held much worse ones. With the right resources and technical knowledge, even five-factor authentication wouldn\u2019t help them keep those.<\/span><\/p>\n

As the organization’s most experienced hacking specialist and lead detective, Harper Sung had led the Heywood project thus far alongside creative-slash-mechanical specialist Tatsuo Engel and criminality expert Emerson Wu. Tonight\u2019s mission was to open access to Max Heywood\u2019s private server so that they could look into his files from home. The catch was that this required breaking into his maximum-security house.<\/span><\/p>\n

Above the dusky Seattle apartments, the team\u2019s sleek black car flew unobtrusively. Harper turned on the sound, and a segment about Max Heywood that she had been listening to picked up. \u201cThis is going to be a tough one,\u201d Harper said. \u201cMax Heywood and his public relations team don\u2019t like to compromise their squeaky-clean image.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

From the driver\u2019s seat, Tatsuo gazed absently ahead. \u201cI\u2019m more concerned with how they might handle a recovery. Some people can talk their way out of anything.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Colors illuminated their shadowed faces. On all sides, neon signs shouting advertisements and giant screens displaying celebrity news engulfed them in pronounced enthusiasm. Harper looked up toward the larger display above them where two figures, one wearing an elegant dress and the other sporting a dark suit, smiled their perfect smiles. No surprise\u2014North America\u2019s most famous celebrity couple, Audrey Valdez and Chris Fletcher, arm-in-arm and magnified to the height of eight-story buildings. They gradually disappeared in a sea of lights. Roads for bullet trains snaked across the skies, their railings glowing blue to prevent nighttime car accidents.<\/span><\/p>\n

Even at night, Max Heywood\u2019s sleek mansion remained bright as it stood illuminated against the dark sky. Tatsuo unhooked their only old-fashioned physical key from their belt. Nobody owned these anymore except people who could afford to commission them for an edge on security and people with a knack for creating things\u2014Max Heywood and now Tatsuo Engel, respectively.<\/span><\/p>\n

After this came the key card, followed by fingerprint identification, followed by an iris scan, followed by a DNA sample, followed by a spoken password, followed by a security question. Although Tatsuo forced a straight face throughout the ordeal, both Harper and Emerson could feel them shaking until the very last procedure. When they could all breathe freely again, Emerson located the security camera station and began overwriting the next few hours\u2019 footage like it was second nature, and Harper took over Max Heywood\u2019s personal computer with a sideways smile.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Back in the basement, the team gathered around the table with their laptops for the fourth consecutive day, searching through files and files of digital information. Nothing notable had come up yet. \u201cWe need a huge scandal,\u201d Harper said with frustration. \u201cSomething career-ruining. Life-ruining. It shouldn\u2019t be that hard. He\u2019s a corporate executive, after all, and technology knows everything.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Tatsuo cleared their throat with a tentative glance up above their glasses. \u201cOkay, I realize I ask this every time,\u201d they said, \u201cbut how do we know there\u2019s something to find?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cEveryone has secrets documented somewhere in the data cloud. All it took was some hacking experience to find out that you sold illegal substances for eight years, Tatsuo.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cPlease.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Emerson laughed lightheartedly at something on her screen. \u201cHe really hates Audrey Valdez,\u201d she said. \u201c\u2018I don\u2019t want to see Audrey Valdez\u2019 fake plastic face on my newsfeed.\u2019 \u2018It\u2019s only a matter of time before Chris Fletcher realizes that Audrey Valdez is a liar with no morals.\u2019 \u2018Audrey Valdez has no talent.\u2019 I mean, he\u2019s not exactly wrong, but this is hilarious. For a public figure, he\u2019s so petty.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Harper paused for a moment. \u201cMight as well save that. Maybe she has dirt on him.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cHa! Only one way to find out, right? Grayson probably knows someone who knows someone.\u201d Emerson flipped a switch on her headpiece to contact the group\u2019s most well-connected member, who was away for another investigation. \u201cHello?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Audrey Valdez stood with a disdainfully interested expression. She served a stark contrast to Tatsuo and Emerson: her lipstick shimmered a metallic shade of dark maroon; her dark auburn hair curled around her shoulders in a gradual ombre to blonde; her designer crimson dress carried barely a wrinkle. Even during her most private meetings, fashion was fundamental for a celebrity. Anyone could upload any so-called fashion disaster onto a public cloud and document it permanently for universal ridicule.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cOh, I know Max Heywood too well,\u201d Audrey Valdez said, rolling her eyes. \u201cA terrible person in general, honestly. And career-wise, he\u2019s nothing but another selfish, profit-minded executive from one of the tech giants who enjoys success at the expense of underpaid laborers.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Emerson furrowed her brow. \u201cAren\u2019t you just as rich and successful?\u201d\u2014to which Tatsuo replied with a frustrated glance.<\/span><\/p>\n

Audrey Valdez shrugged. \u201cAt least I\u2019m harmless. I don\u2019t exploit anyone or anything. Anyway, I\u2019ve been told that you\u2019re looking to take him down? What\u2019s your plan?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Tatsuo cleared their throat. \u201cWell, we\u2019re currently looking for information that would expose Heywood as corrupt, and we\u2019re wondering if you would happen to know anything.\u201d They hesitated. \u201cAnd, uh\u2026 we were also considering potentially use more extreme measures to\u2026\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

She raised a palm. \u201cNot a word. We\u2019re killing Max Heywood. I can help tremendously, given my connections. There\u2019s an event in two weeks that he\u2019s attending. Knock him out as soon as he leaves.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Two weeks. Going from data procuration to assassination in two weeks would be record time. If they were potentially going to take Max Heywood out anyway, this could be a golden opportunity. Or a way to get them all dangerously exposed and killed.<\/span><\/p>\n

Tatsuo flipped on their receiver and consulted Harper, who went silent on the other end for a good twenty seconds. Then she said, \u201cAll right. We\u2019re going for assassination.\u201d Before they could hang up, however, Harper abruptly began talking again. \u201cTatsuo, things aren\u2019t adding up. No birth certificate, no documentation, no online presence. For all intents and purposes, in the eyes of the documented digital world, Grace Heywood doesn’t exist.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cMax Heywood\u2019s wife?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYes. Can you and Emerson and Valdez take care of the assassination? I\u2019ll do whatever preparatory work you need help with, but I\u2019m going to look into Grace Heywood. Assuming she\u2019ll be at the event in two weeks, I might be able to hide out nearby and catch her alone.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

As Harper scanned the files, another surge of hope ran through her. Perhaps it wasn\u2019t information that would clue them into what was wrong with Max Heywood, but a lack of information. This was the era of technology and interconnectivity. Absence of any signs was, in itself, something to be suspicious about.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

As Tatsuo, Emerson, and Audrey Valdez approached the venue of the social where they would kill Max Heywood, the buildings grew upscale and glitzy\u2014a place where a celebrity or business executive would fit nicely. Audrey tapped the back of the driver\u2019s seat. \u201cYour headlights are off.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Without a flicker of reaction, Tatsuo kept their eyes forward. \u201cI know. That\u2019s intentional.\u201d Tiny droplets of drizzle now spotted the windshield.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019d point out that it\u2019s illegal and dangerous, but I think that would be hypocritical.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Night shadows fragmented the landscape into slashes of light and darkness. Hovering to a gradual halt, Tatsuo parked illegally on the roof of an adjacent building sheltered in dim solitude. The occasional pair of headlights darted across their car, and Tatsuo winced in the beams.<\/span><\/p>\n

From the passenger seat, Emerson rolled down the window and flipped a magnifying lens over her right eye. Fine flecks of rain specked her cropped black hair as she leaned outside, squinting into the light. There was a good view of the building where Max and Grace Heywood gathered, and she focused her vision ahead.<\/span><\/p>\n

Against the nighttime gloom, glass walls showcased the ostentatious spectacle inside: figures exchanged business cards and thoughtless praise among new decorations and new money. The blond man holding a flute of golden champagne\u2014there, that was Max Heywood, with Grace Heywood by his side. Wearing a flaxen evening gown and four-inch high heels, Grace laughed tastefully at a comment that Max had made and kissed him softly on the cheek. Throughout the evening, she followed him around the vicinity, holding a skewer of buttered prawns that she wasn\u2019t eating.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cMay I take one of the electroshock guns?\u201d Audrey Valdez asked.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cNo. We won\u2019t need them yet.\u201d Tatsuo, however, held one tightly.<\/span><\/p>\n

Between drawn-out greetings, Max leaned over to whisper something to Grace, who promptly exited with a polite smile to let her husband be. As Max socialized, she headed into the hallway, disappearing from sight. Emerson flipped a mouthpiece forward. \u201cHarper. Grace Heywood is leaving, so get ready for an encounter.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Hidden around the corner of the next building, Harper waited. Light Seattle rain beaded on her black leather jacket. Somehow, she felt the eyes of onlookers from each lit window and backed up against the wall, uncomfortable with the idea of someone witnessing her from outside her field of vision.<\/span><\/p>\n

From the back door of the building, a woman stepped out for an escape from the crowd. Her face, with the same elegant features gracing the investigation team\u2019s data files, was one that had appeared on television next to Max’s several times before: Grace Heywood.<\/span><\/p>\n

This time, however, her features twisted. She stood still in the light rain and looked around as if she sensed something. Someone. Harper tensed. The long-distance electroshock gun remained at a medium setting\u2014enough to temporary debilitate, but non-lethal. She wasn\u2019t planning on having to use it.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cBlink twice if you\u2019re being held hostage,\u201d Harper whispered.<\/span><\/p>\n

Grace stared for a few more moments, hesitating with a strangely analytical gaze. Her eyes fell to the electroshock gun in Harper\u2019s right hand. Then she lunged forward, a blade gleaming as she attacked.<\/span><\/p>\n

Harper fired with a gasp.<\/span><\/p>\n

From the sudden movement, the jewels embellishing Grace Heywood\u2019s cream-colored dress refracted a flash of the surrounding lights. She toppled to the ground, hitting hard.<\/span><\/p>\n

She should have stopped moving.<\/span><\/p>\n

Instead, her body convulsed every few moments as she emitted the stilted sounds of a warped voice. Harper started with wide-eyed confusion; she\u2019d never seen this before. What was supposed to have been only temporary paralysis seemed far more consequential.<\/span><\/p>\n

A voice that Harper had heard only in videos broke the speechless terror. \u201cOh my God. Grace?\u201d Max Heywood cried, rushing to his wife\u2019s side. The stateliness and charisma that Harper had expected seemed to vanish. This was Max Heywood. The man whose life they were supposed to ruin. The man whose life they were supposed to end.<\/span><\/p>\n

As Harper observed the woman jerking in his arms, the buzzing and beeping and flickering, the realization dawned upon her. Harper\u2019s voice came out breathy with shock and hesitation. \u201cYour wife is an android, Mr. Heywood.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWho are you?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cJust a passerby.\u201d Harper\u2019s stomach sunk as she processed the information. \u201cYou were aware that Grace Heywood was\u2026 this?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cIt’s really none of your business. Did you see what happened?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cNo. I found her like this.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

The spasms ended, and Grace stopped moving entirely. Her brunette hair sprawled across the damp ground, and her gown had begun to soak up dirty water. A hissing sound rose\u2014a sound like running cold water over a hot pan. Like something that wasn\u2019t supposed to happen. \u201cOh, she\u2019s short-circuited\u201d\u2014Max\u2019s melancholy voice broke. He gritted his teeth against what looked like tears and refused to raise his eyes to his onlooker.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cGood God. Are you serious?\u201d Audrey Valdez\u2019s heels clicked against the ground until she stopped behind him, hand on her hip. Tatsuo and Emerson stood nearby. \u201cYou built a machine because you were jealous of my relationship. Sweetheart, <\/span>you<\/span><\/i> broke up with <\/span>me<\/span><\/i>. Not my fault I ended up happier than you.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Max reacted visibly to the familiar voice; it seemed to startle him out of his desolation. He did not dare look back with the tears still flooding his eyes, but a newfound edge entered his tone a few moments later. \u201cDon\u2019t act superior. You\u2019re the one flaunting your thing with Chris Fletcher to spite me. It\u2019s completely fake.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cSweetie, that\u2019s all real, believe it or not.\u201d She walked forward and nudged the side of the woman\u2019s face with one of her high heels. \u201cOh, what a beautiful illusion of happiness. Max and Grace Heywood at every social together. How many years has it been since you left me? And you\u2019re still not over it? This is so sad.\u201d She handed the electroshock gun set to <\/span>lethal<\/span><\/i> back to Tatsuo. \u201cI\u2019m sorry, honey, I can\u2019t do this. Good luck.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

The three remainders gazed at the picture before them: renowned billionaire Max Heywood\u2014technical genius Max Heywood\u2014elite executive Max Heywood cradling his collapsed humanoid robotic wife on the wet concrete. It was hard to believe that only meters away, his friends and colleagues were enjoying themselves at a sophisticated social, drinking champagne and eating prawns and doing whatever else wealthy people did. Outside the splendor of their party, in the shadows where people like Harper and Tatsuo and Emerson found safety, he was no longer Max Heywood. He was a heartbroken man.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI think we should go,\u201d said Tatsuo. They put away the electroshock gun that they\u2019d kept ready with diligence.<\/span><\/p>\n

As the three of them turned their backs on the scene, the door opened to make way for two individuals exiting the building, warm yellow light from the doorway flooding out onto the rainy streets. Shouts rose until people were rushing out to surround the scene\u2014a more effective scandal than anything on Max Heywood\u2019s private server. Their voices faded as Harper turned a corner. Secrets did not exist here.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Perhaps the news had spread throughout the socialite world, but public broadcasting remained strangely silent. Nobody outside their group knew anything about Max Heywood\u2019s android wife. What everyone did know was that nobody had heard from him for weeks. The team hadn\u2019t expected to bring Max Heywood down like this, but it seemed like their mission had succeeded in a sense. They took the silence with a dash of pity for the man hiding in unforgivable shame.<\/span><\/p>\n

In the basement, the news droned from the surround sound system as images flashed across the five-foot-tall television. Four of them played mahjong at the center table. As of recently, they\u2019d moved onto new targets and were currently waiting on a response from someone they\u2019d contacted to continue with their latest project.<\/span><\/p>\n

Harper looked up and widened her eyes with surprise. An unexpected face smiled on the screen.<\/span><\/p>\n

Max Heywood was present for an interview with a new woman by his side. The Grace Heywood that they\u2019d known was gone as if she\u2019d never existed. The man grinned, prouder than ever, as he presented her on television for the world: an android.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201c\u2026And then it struck me: I should make my own woman and then marry her,\u201d he said with perfect enthusiasm, clearly pleased with the results. \u201cStella is going to be the first of many in the Nintendo Corporation. We\u2019re expanding our success in innovative gaming and virtual reality to incorporate new ways of bringing the virtual to life. Realistic androids open a whole new range of possibilities outside our original focus on gaming that our company will definitely explore in the coming years\u2026\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Tatsuo sighed. \u201cSo we expose his wife as an android and he decides to own it.\u201d They set down a tile. \u201cWe can\u2019t win.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Emerson snickered. \u201cMaybe the profit from the new AI line will fill the void in his heart.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYou think they can actually get along like that? Max and\u2026 Stella?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cOf course not. A heartless entity devoid of compassion? With an android?\u201d At that, Tatsuo and Harper broke into laughter.<\/span><\/p>\n

They watched with distorted curiosity at the strange image before them. At the man who so eagerly pretended that a robotic wife was a brand-new idea for him\u2014something that he\u2019d never attempted before. They listened to his projections for the future and the multifarious uses for androids like Stella. And when the segment ended and the light faded to black, Harper turned off the television. They stared at the empty screen in the darkness.<\/span><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Glowing windows blinked like a million tiny eyes among the skyscrapers of Seattle, Northern Cascadia. On clear nights, the sky stretched in a solid sheet of dark navy punctuated only by the moon. There were no lights up there. History told of how humanity had plucked the stars from the sky and placed them on […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":144,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[12],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-142","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-original-work"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/ceruleanchameleon.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/142","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/ceruleanchameleon.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/ceruleanchameleon.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/ceruleanchameleon.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/ceruleanchameleon.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=142"}],"version-history":[{"count":13,"href":"https:\/\/ceruleanchameleon.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/142\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":166,"href":"https:\/\/ceruleanchameleon.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/142\/revisions\/166"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/ceruleanchameleon.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/144"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/ceruleanchameleon.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=142"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/ceruleanchameleon.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=142"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/ceruleanchameleon.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=142"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}