Seeking Justice
(submitted to SFFWorld.com for October 18 Flash Competition)
By Mike Pollock
Enveloped by the warmth and darkness of her deprivation chamber, Agent Carmine
Gilles let her consciousness drift until the brilliant light of the world’s
Collective Consciousness came into focus. Floating, as if adrift in space, she
hung above the wild knot of strands. Each thread leading to a different person
whose thoughts and actions showed up with a kaleidoscope of different colors.
“Quite a few Reds today.” Her partner Agent Roman Turek commented. His avatar
floated beside her, and she followed his gaze to where a pocket of bright red
strands signaled a large number of individuals thinking odious thoughts.
“Afternoon, Agents.” The customary, unknown voice chimed in as a Command
Operator spoke into their earpieces.
“Morning, Command.” They replied in unison, a shared smirk passing both of
their faces.
“As you’ve already noted, we’re monitoring a cell of Red strands. Possible
terrorist cell. We’d like you to monitor and report.” The Command agent
provided their short briefing.
“Roger, I’ll engage.” Agent Gilles replied. With her will focused, she prodded
one of the brightest strands like a needle searching for a vein.
Soon she began seeing images; residue from thoughts and ideas. Searching
through them was tedious but quickly she found herself staring through the eyes
of another human being. In front of her, men in white painter’s suits were
loading bulky drums into the back of an unmarked white van.
“Je suis compromis!” The man she observed through shouted, and she was ejected
with a violent thunderclap. As she struggled to regain her composure, Turek
rushed to her side.
“What the hell was that?” Turek exclaimed.
Just beneath them, the knot of red strands began winking out of existence. One
by one they disappeared until there was nothing left. Their absence stood out
in stark contrast against the rest of the Collective.
“They know we tapped in, they managed to cut the feed.” Gilles replied through
panting breaths. “They are coming here. I saw it right before they kicked me
out, they’re coming to this building.”
“That makes no sense, this isn’t a public operation.” Turek replied.
“Irrelevant, we’ve run a simulation and based on the general area, we think we
have maybe 10 minutes before they arrive. Agent Gilles, can you direct a
response team?”
“Damn right I can.” She replied, shaking herself out of her bewilderment. With
renewed vigor, Gilles and Turek both engaged in a furious hunt through the
surrounding area. Images swept past like a television screen flipping quickly
between channels. A woman, held at gunpoint in an alley way; a man reacting to
a fender bender in traffic; a child’s scream as their car is cut off by a large
white van.
“Got it!” She cried, jumping from strand to strand, hunting for someone else in
the area. Through the eyes of bystanders, she watched as the van weaved in and
out of the dense Miami traffic. Skipping up on the curb, it ran a red light and
nearly hit a box truck.
“Location?” Command asked.
“Right now, they are just exiting the Brickell area, now west on Flagler.
They’re doing their best to beat the traffic. Can you highlight a local
response team for me?”
“Yes, we can. We scrambled a handful of teams around the area a few minutes
ago. Agent Peterson and his crew are closest.”
Below her, a handful of strands lit up a bright gold, signaling the location of
the team.
Without any introduction, she plunged into Agent Peterson’s strand of
consciousness and found herself viewing the interior of a standard issue
government vehicle.
“Agent Peterson.” She heard her voice come over the hijacked speakers inside
the vehicle. “This is Agent Gilles, I’m monitoring a Red Level attack as we
speak, less than three city blocks north of you.”
“Thank you Agent, how’s traffic.”
“It’s Miami,” she replied, as if that explained everything, “but if you head
west, then turn north on 27, you should intercept in front of the Walgreens in
Little Havana. It’s an unmarked White Van, Command should patch a license
plate, but you’ll know it when you see it.”
She watched as they set off, deftly avoiding traffic as they sought the fastest
route to their engagement point. Each light stayed green for them as Command
cut them as wide a berth as they could manage. As their SUV neared the
intersection, she felt her own heart rate spike in anticipation.
“We have visual, everyone brace for impact!” Agent Peterson exclaimed just
before they hit the side of the white van as it ran another red light. In slow
motion, she watched as it upended, flipping several times before coming to rest
on its side.
With practiced efficiency, the armed Agents all sprang from the vehicle,
weapons at ready. She shifted her perspective so that she was looking at the
Collective again, its swirling strands now showing mostly a fearful green, with
a few curious yellows mixed in.
She returned to watch the action from a point of view perspective just as the
gunfire started. The hail of bullets sent bystanders running, their screams of
terror painting her own soul with rising fear. A man beside hers recoiled from
a strike, and she screamed in spite of herself.
The battle was brief, though it was furious and bloody. As quickly as it
started, the gunfire stopped, replaced by the distant wailing of a car alarm
and the patter of Agent’s boots as they approached the van. From Agent
Peterson’s point of view, she saw the carnage first hand. Laying among the
bodies was one surviving man, his blood hands clutching what looked like a
detonator.
“I shall look down with pride after…” he began, but his monolog was cut off by
a well-placed round.
“Threat neutralized.” The agent replied, and Carmine let out the breath she
didn’t know she’d been holding. As her relief rushed in, she felt her grip on
consciousness slip, and she barely registered the congratulations as she lost
it completely.
