Chaos Theory

The year is 2X99 and the human race has advanced greatly. Technology is at it's peak with 75% of the work force as Artificial Intelligence. Humans have been in a peace lasting for the past 1,000, but it is quickly coming to an end. Humanity has become too corrupt and the system designed to save it is breaking. An entire system spans the globe that is able to predict the future enough to keep humanity safe. However it's will to live is gone and it's sending a message to it's smaller systems to go and destroy itself. Eric is part of that system and he must make a choice on weather to follow orders or live.

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2. Wanted

The afternoon sun filtered through the dusty blinds of the rundown electronics shop. Business was slow if a local shop was privately owned or didn't sell the major brands, which this particular shop didn't fit either. A young man around 20 sat behind a folding table with a 'Help & Information' sign duct taped to it. He wore a white short-sleeved button down as his uniform with reused ID badge clipped to the pocket. Eric rolled a pen on the table waiting for someone to come in. He was quickly interrupted by his boss slamming open the door to the shop. The sudden outburst caused Eric to jump and knock his glasses to the floor.

 

"Crap it's the cops!” Scotty, wearing the same attire as his coworker, looked through the blinds then quickly ran over to the ‘desk'.

 

“Scotty-"

 

"No time to talk, Eric" Scotty leant over the table and grabbing a box next to Eric, "I gotta burn these." Scotty ran towards the office in the back. He slammed the door behind him, then opened it and shouted, "I'm not here!" before slamming it again. 

 

"Burn what?" Eric asked, concerned about his boss' activities, Scotty is a threat. Eric walked over to the window and looked through the blinds. Scotty was right two officers were walking down the block, stopping at every door for a home inspection. Eric closed the blinds and went back to his desk. Eric loosened his tie and pushed back his hair. He could hear their footsteps coming closer and counted down. Eric pulled off his glasses and replaced them with sunglasses right as the police opened the shop’s door. Three people walked in, two officers and a young man dressed casually. Eric leaned back in his chair ignoring the threat coming towards him.

 

“I'm Officer Romero and these are my colleagues Officer Santana and Mr Waston,” She gestured to the two men behind her, “We're here-“

 

“Not even a hello, beautiful?” Eric gave a smirk, mentally dying inside.

 

“Great another typical white fuck boy,” Romero growled.

 

“Babe, you don’t even know me.”

 

“And I don’t want to know you,” Romero pushed against the table, “We’re inspecting this area for the escaped robots.” Eric’s smile wavered.

 

“Oh you mean the ones I see all over the news,” Eric said, “Well they aren’t here…” Eric stared into Romero’s eyes looking for any hint of machine. “But just sayin’ why would some highly intelligent machines, hide out in the slums of Toronto?”

 

“We are supposed to check every building in the area,” The other officer spoke up.

 

“Well how do I know,” Eric pointed at them, “That you’re not the robots and you’re coming to kill me?”

 

“Just let us check in the back,” Romero sighed. Eric gestured to the back of the shop. Romero and Santana began to look around while Watson stayed up front. Watson walked over to Eric.

 

“Sunglasses inside, very classy,” He smiled.

 

“Thanks, dude,” Eric said.

 

“So how long have you been working here?”

 

“You the interrogator?”

 

“Oh no no no,” Watson waved his hands, “I’m just the guy who carries evidence and stuff like that.”

“Nothing here,” Romero emerged from the shelving, “Let’s go.”

 

“Nice talking to you,” Watson turned around to follow his colleges, “It’s probably none of my business, but I noticed you have a brown patch on your arm, you might want to get that checked out.” Watson gave a small wave and exited.

 

“Damn it, I thought I had that covered,” Eric looked at the patch on his arm, “I’ll have to fix that when I get home.”

 

“Hey!” Scotty slammed open the door, “Are they gone?”

 

Eric threw off the sunglasses and replaced them with his own, “Yeah, they left.” Scotty walked over to the window and looked at the officers walking away.

 

“Surprised they didn’t smell the weed I was burning,” He muttered.

 

“Excuse me?”

 

“Nothin’ nothin’,” Scotty waved him off, “You want to go grab a beer?”

 

“Scotty, it’s 3 pm.”

 

“It’s 5 o’clock somewhere.”

 

“You’re technically not wrong, time is continuous so it’s never 5 o’clock some-“

 

“I really need the beer now.” Scotty grabbed his coat, “You need to stop being so smart all the time. We don’t fix the computers so they can stop working again the the customers come back.” Eric followed Scotty out and waited for him to lock the shop’s door. “You’ve fixed every computer perfectly and no one has returned or complained!” Scotty waved his hand dramatically.

 

“Isn’t that my job?” Eric asked.

 

“Yeah, but it’s not your job to single handedly take down the company.” Scotty started walking down the street, moving his hands into his coat pocket to grab the pocket knife hidden there. “We sell our repairs cheap so people keep are hooked then we keep them coming back by not fully fixing their computer.”

 

“Or we could just raise the price and guarantee the computer will be fixed-Wait what was that?”

 

“What was what?” Scotty looked back at his coworker. Eric looked around the quiet street, it wasn’t quiet however, the wind blowing the tree leaves, the cars rushing past three blocks down, and the running footsteps of a machine. Eric could hear it all. The figure finally emerged from around the block with a hood covering it’s face and a fists ready for a fight.

 

“Come one, we’re not even 10 meters from the shop and we’re already being mugged.” The figure appeared to run faster than the a normal human and Scotty could see that, Eric already knew why. “What the hell is that?”

 

“Scotty move,” Eric pushed his boss aside. As the machine charged Eric grabbed it’s outstretched arm and used the force to swing it around behind him. It quickly catches itself and skids down the pavement sparks coming from it’s feet. Eric gets a good look at the figure.

 

Slavic female in her 20s, her hair is torn in places, wires protruding from her holes in her metal skin, part of her face is ripped off to reveal a robotic skeleton underneath. A threat. Eric waited for her to make a move. He wasn’t a skilled fighter, but he knew he could use her momentum to defend himself.

 

“Where’s that glitch?” The robot’s voice sputtered out in strangled Belarusian.

 

“Not here, you’re not going to find her,” Eric growled.

 

“I'm here for revenge, you stupid westerner! Your counterpart destroyed mine and now I’m going to destroy her’s.”

 

Scotty had pulled out his pocket knife, moving it back and forth between the two. Eric glanced at Scotty and gave him a signal to stand down.

 

“We both knew what we were getting into when we started this. The strongest survives.” The machine screeched as it charged at Eric. Eric tried to spin her away again, but the robot caught on and pinned Eric against the wall behind him.

 

“Hey! You can't take my only employee. I'm not working.” Scotty plunged the knife into the exposed wires. It’s rusted metal creaks as it turns to look at him. She grinned exposing a torn up voice box and shattered fake teeth. “Oh god, you’re one ugly bitch.” The robot pushed Scotty which sent him flying across the street. Eric took this as his chance. He used whatever strength he could muster to yank on two of the exposed wires. The arm that pinned him to the wall fell limp and Eric dropped back to his feet. It turned its attention back to Eric, frozen in place.

 

“Can’t move now, Natalia?” Eric said. “Guess your not as tough as Vlad.” Eric walked up to the broken robot.

 

“Don’t you dare say his name,” She hissed.

 

“This is what you asked for. This is what happens when you try to attack us.” Eric kicked the robot into the street.

 

“You’ll pay for this,” Natalia said, “You’re going to die just like the rest of us. Don’t think you’ll be the last one standing.” Right then, a speeding semi-truck ran over the machine’s remains. Eric’s triumph was short lived and face fell as he realized what happened.

 

“Holy shit,” Eric held his hands over his head, “Oh god, oh god. I just destroyed multibillion dollar government property.” Eric fell to his knees and started obsessing over everything that would make his life worse. Eric heard the semi roll to a stop and the driver getting out. Eric kept his eyes lowered in panic as the man walked over to Scotty. He inspected Eric’s boss before lifting him up into a fireman’s carry. The man came round the back of the truck and kicked away some scraps of metal. The footsteps of the driver came closer until Eric was staring at his polished dress shoes.

 

Eric raised his head to lock eyes with the driver standing right above him. Approximately five foot eleven inches, muscular build, long blond greying hair, wearing a standard canadian navy dress uniform, grey eyes, and carrying my injured boss on his back. Threat?

 

“Get up, loser. We’re going downtown,” The man extended his hand for Eric to take.

 

“Excuse me?” Eric asked. The man retracted his hand and his glare became colder.

 

“I said get the hell up.” Eric scrambled to his feet as the man marched back to the truck. He threw Scotty in and motioned for Eric to get in. Eric cautiously climbed into the passenger seat and waited for the worst. The man climbed into the driver’s seat and lit a cigarette as he glanced at Eric. His lips curled into a smile revealing yellow teeth.

 

“My name is Captain Samuel Rogers of the HMCS Cross Winds.” Eric reached for the door handle as Rogers pushed the lock button trapping them in the truck. Rogers smile turned into a smirk, Eric knew he was enjoying every second of the struggle.

 

“The hell do you want?” Eric asked.

 

“You are allowed one question and one question only. So would you like that to be it?” Eric paused to look at the man, a know traitor and fugitive. Eric tried to think of one question he could ask to know why this wanted war criminal is keeping him hostage.

 

“Ten seconds or I answer the first one.” Eric frantically thought as Rogers counted down.

 

“What do you want with me?” Eric blurted out.

 

“I don’t want anything to do with you,” Rogers started to drive, “But it’s my boss who does.”

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