The Mind Hack Read online

  Tolbert fired the laser into the gapping maw. Glancing behind, he saw the smaller beetles encircle, still advancing towards him.

  The slug’s tongue whipped out, wrapping around him and pulling him into its mouth.

  Tolbert pulled against the slug, and it crushed his stomach, forcing the air out and, with its strength, pulled him into its mouth.

  Tolbert awoke screaming in his bed, drenched in sweat. He noticed that he had wet himself while asleep. Cursing under his breath, he got up and changed the sheets and then showered. He lay in the freshly made bed, trying to sleep. Eventually sleep claimed him.

  Striker slashed down and killed another raptor. He glanced at the clock and noted the time. Both the times Tolbert had been on he had been on at this time. Maybe he would be on now?

  In checking his friends list Striker’s hopes fell as the list of only one person still showed nothing. Where is he? The game was good but it didn’t have the same thrill when Tolbert wasn’t online. Why?

  Tolbert was alert on the way to work the next day. He noticed strange trees on the corner. Does anyone else not see the trees? Taking a closer look as he walked past them, he saw that a set of tropical palms had replaced the traffic lights. Why has there nor been an accident yet?

  Tolbert walked on, keeping his eyes peeled for anything else out of place. What is going on?

  At work, Tolbert began to relax. The demands of dealing with the hotels clients kept him busy and with effort, he focused his attention on the work. It eased the tension that had been building.

  ‘Tap, tap, tap.’

  Tolbert strained his ears for the response, nothing.

  While Tolbert was investigating the sound, his boss, Geoff, called him on the work radio, summoning him into his office. After replying his acknowledgement over the radio, Tolbert headed to Geoff’s office. When he arrived at Geoff’s office Tolbert took a seat facing in Geoff’s direction.

  “Tolbert, how are you?” Geoff asked, touching each finger to its mate on the other hand.

  “I’m good.” Tolbert hesitated.

  “Good, good,” Geoff returned. “I called you into today, because today is your first-year review.”

  “O…Oh,” Tolbert stammered. He couldn’t afford to lose this job. If he lost his job he would have to move in with his parents and they were worse than the lady screaming down the hall.

  “First, I would like to ask you how you like working with us?”

  “Um,” Tolbert stalled.

  Geoff waited patiently and watched Tolbert.

  “I guess it’s okay,” Tolbert finished. What type of answer was that?

  Geoff observed Tolbert for a minute.

  Tolbert shifted under Geoff’s gaze.

  “I mean to say…” stammered Tolbert, “I have enjoyed the work, but I have been a little distracted of late.”

  “Oh, I see,” remarked Geoff, opening a thin folder. “Your work has been exemplary up until a little under a week ago,” he continued. “You could be a team leader. Your team members all look up to you and you have actually been training some of the other team leaders.”

  Tolbert gulped as a single beetle scurried across the desk.

  Geoff reached out and smacked down killing the beetle on reflex, not looking up from the file.

  Tolbert leaned in as Geoff lifted his hand. Tolbert paled. The beetles not them too. Another two beetles scrambled across the desk from behind the computer.

  Jumping back, Tolbert knocked the chair aside. They’re real. Geoff is noticing them too. The new beetles moved across the desk to the dead one and consumed it.

  Geoff’s hand came down again.

  “Damn it,” Geoff cursed. “Where are they coming from?”

  Tolbert stood transfixed, as another three rushed to the dead. They were immediately followed by another three.

  Geoff jumped out of his desk chair and backed away.

  The six new beetles devoured the first three and then scattered in all directions.

  “What the hell was that?” Geoff demanded looking at his immaculate dark stained wooden desk.

  Tolbert white as a sheet watched in silence. He was unable to say anything. Why were his nightmares coming to life?

  Chapter 4

  Awakening in his bed, Tolbert shivered despite the warmth of the room. He moved to the bathroom to relive himself. Rubbing his eyes, he looked at the wall-mounted clock: three in the morning. Sighing he climbed into bed and tried to go to sleep, but sleep eluded him.

  Rising, he turned on his computer. After the computer started up, he hovered his mouse over the icon for Dragon Hunt and then moved it to hover over Space Traders, before moving to an older style game, Medieval Knight, a game where he played the role of a French knight during the Hundred Years’ War. He loaded up his old character, a grizzled veteran of many years of fighting.

  The dirt beneath his charger was dry and dusty, and the smell of horse sweat assaulted Tolbert’s nose as the horses nickered around him.

  Across the field, Tolbert’s enemy waited. They were trapped, the cliff behind them, a sheer drop to the beach fifty metres below.

  Tolbert’s heavy cavalry hemmed them against this cliff. Tolbert raised his hand and the horses moved forward at a slow steady trot.

  The enemy made no move to escape the attacking heavy cavalry.

  Tolbert signalled an increase in speed. The knights increased their speed. Lowering their lances, the knights picked up more speed, charging across the field. The wind rushed around Tolbert’s helmet, making whistling sounds. The ground rumbled with the pounding of the horses’ hooves. Closing and then crashing into the enemy, Tolbert was deafened by the sound of the crashing steel resounding in his helmet.

  Reacting automatically, Tolbert dropped his broken lance and drew his sword. An agile light horseman stabbed at Tolbert with his tuck, a short sword designed to cut through chain mail and slice between steel plates, catching Tolbert in the mail at the elbow. The force glided through his elbow.

  Tolbert’s sword arm bled and was immobilized. Pain seared through his arm as another sword stabbed at Tolbert’s shoulder. Falling from the saddle over the horse’s rump, he hit the ground with a loud snapping sound that echoed through his armour.

  The horse panicked and ran away.

  Tolbert couldn’t move. The sounds of battle continued as he lay on the ground bleeding. Tolbert’s neck was broken. Unable to move, he watched as the sounds of horses and people fighting slowed while blood pumped out of his arm. A horse’s hoof crashed down onto his face, killing him instantly.

  Awakening with a start, Tolbert sat up. The hard dirt beneath him had given him a back ache. The sound of cars came to him from above. Looking up, he found himself sitting underneath a bridge.

  “Good afternoon.” A greeting came from his left.

  Tolbert turned and spotted a man dressed in dark patchy clothes with a long dishevelled beard.

  “What?” Tolbert croaked, his throat dry and dusty from the dust around him.

  “Good morning,” the bearded man corrected.

  “What am I doing here?” insisted Tolbert. Who is this person and why is he talking to me?

  “From what I could tell, you were sleeping,” the man answered.

  “Normally I do that at home,” Tolbert remarked. Great. Now he thinks he is a comedian.

  “Don’t we all” the man laughed, walking off in a huff.

  Standing, Tolbert dusted himself off. He was wearing only the boxers that he had donned last night. Where am I? Okay this is strange; I remember playing Space Traders. Did I sleep walk? Tolbert walked up the embankment heading home. In the bushes a pale lady in a simple shift watched Tolbert with a sinister smile, before disappearing.

  Tolbert yawned as he finished cleaning, bags under his eyes.

  “Be careful” Geoff warned as Tolbert left work.

  Tolbert smiled and waved to Geoff as he left for home. Tolbert kept checking over his shoulder on the way. He walked quickly to the
subway, yawning. Looking over his shoulder, he heard a horn blare. Swinging his head around, he saw the front end of a large truck’s grill just before it rode up over the curb and hits him sandwiching Tolbert into the wall of the building behind him. Tolbert died with his body pressed between a semi and the wall of a building.

  On the sidewalk, a lady in a pale white shift smiled as she watched the truck collide with the wall of the building. She then crossed the street and faded into the crowd. The large troll she had materialised in the road for the driver had had the desired effect. Now to test his sense of reality.

  Striker sat at his computer. Leaning back into his large computer chair he looked at the computer screen. The icons on the screen show a large collection of games sorted into several categories. He opened the files for Dragon Hunt, looking carefully over the code. Reading through the code he found it as he expected it to be; nothing unusual to explain the odd sensations he’d had while playing with Tolbert. An Internet search revealed no new breakthroughs in virtual gaming and the company producing Dragon Hunt was a dead end, a simple shell corporation leading to a post office box in New York. The game reviews he found didn’t mention anyone else having such a vivid experience.

  Striker sighed, another dead end, and logged onto the game. He checked his friends list on Dragon Hunt and noticed that Tolbert was not online. Leaning back in his computer chair, he crossed his arms, resting them on his large belly. The only way to find out what is going on will be to communicate with Tolbert and find out if he knows anything. He leaned forward, a slight smile on his face; he had no choice.

  He opened a command prompt and typed in code. He ran a test on the Dragon Hunt’s antivirus walls. The ping revealed only one weakness in the software’s defence. Coding again, Striker created false proxies, to create several probes on the Dragon Hunt firewall. All returned with the same weakness.

  “Oh well,” Striker sighed as he began writing the Trojan. “Beggars can’t be choosers.”

  Gaby noticed the test on her perimeter defences and quickly ran a trace on the source. It was coming from subject beta. Gaby created a hole in her defence perimeter and then cloaked it, preparing herself for the next attack that she knew was coming. This was exactly what she wanted; subject beta was solving her problem for her.

  Now to lure in the fish and land him.

  The Trojan ready to go, Striker released it into the server of Dragon Hunt. Striker, monitored the programme as it assaulted the Dragon Hunt server. He was ready to adapt the programme to suit to the defences. The Trojan punched through the antivirus walls. Striker noted the strength of the walls. Pushing further in to the server, Striker hovered his hands over the keyboard, ready. As the Trojan stepped back out of the server and bounced around the proxies, Striker started to craft his real attack.

  Gaby watched the Trojan come in through the back door she had created and stopped her automatic defences. Gaby let Striker in. Gaby watched as the Trojan sent back security information. Gaby smiled to herself. She waited, ready for the real attack. The hook was set; soon it would be time to reel him in.

  Striker exulted in a successful Trojan attack. He missed the thrill of hacking. He began to create a targeted drone to seek out Tolbert’s personal information. He crafted a two-pronged attack, one part a diversion to attract the server’s defences, the other to go in and grab information on a specific player. He felt alive for the first time in months.

  The second attack came with force, blowing through the outer barrier like an explosion. Gaby allowed her automated defences to work. She watched as a piece of code broke off from the main attack; it searched her database, rapidly retrieving specific information. It pinpointed the information it was programmed to acquire and backed out. Retrieving the information, and then it retreated.

  Striker quailed when the drone returned with the information. That virus defence had improved quite a lot in the two hours. Someone must have seen me make the attack and added an extra layer of defence. But the defences were coordinated more like it was alive.

  Letting the drone die at the beefed-up defences Striker set up an alert notice to inform him when Tolbert might come online. He must play more than just Dragon Hunt. I wonder if he is having the same effect on the other games elsewhere.

  Inspecting the profile, he had obtained. Striker ran the name through a search on the Internet. The quick search revealed that Tolbert had been involved in an accident; a semi had run up the curb and sandwiched Tolbert to a wall. He had been rushed to the hospital.

  Slumping into his chair Striker frowned at the screen. The police report stated that Tolbert had died on the way to the hospital from wounds obtained during the scene. Sitting up, Striker noticed that the report did not include a death certificate. Striker got up and started packing his bag.

  What would cause the police to not put a death certificate into the file and close the file?

  I need to find Tolbert and I need to find that AI server to get a better look at it.

  Chapter 5

  A ship landed quietly, landing in Randall Island Park. The vessel was small and seed shaped and painted a pale grey. Looking at the ship directly, you wouldn’t see it catching it with the corner of your eye you would find it appear as a slight disturbance, like looking through a glass of water.

  A small door opened, and a small brown beetle the size of a coin, resembling a cockroach, emerged. It had two antennae on either side of its body. Its antennae became rigid, coming together and producing a simple tap sound.

  At the sound, another beetle disgorged itself from the space ship, identical in every fashion to the first. The second beetle joined the first, produced the tap sound. A third identical beetle joined the first two, also produced the tap sound. Another portal opened, and out poured a swarm of beetles, consuming all plants that they touched. Flowers, grass, small animals and trees died in seconds.

  As the beetles multiplied, another creature came out. It was slug like. It pulsated across the ground. It had no eyes or nose, only a huge mouth that could swallow a man whole. The whole body was a simple matted grey colour and it has four antennae atop its head. Once outside it stopped. Using the four antennae on its head. it made a simple, ‘Tap, tap, tap’.

  ‘Tap, tap, tap’ repeated the beetles from one direction. The slug took off in that direction. The slug flew across the grass and in a single fluid motion collected an early morning jogger listening to music on his headphones.

  Waking up groggily, Tolbert sat up to the sounds of metal scraping on metal. Putting a hand to his head, he opened his eyes. His breathing increased; all he could see was darkness, with a small slit from which the light of noon day streamed in. What is going on? Where am I? He brought his hand in front of the slit and noticed that it was encased in chainmail. Am I still playing Medieval Knights? The last thing I remember was getting hit by a semi. Was that real or is this real? Swinging his head around he looked about. The dead and the dying littered the field. Pulling his helmet off, Tolbert stood with a groan. He was alone on the battlefield. I died here too? Why am I, now alive?

  Tolbert stood and gathered his sword. His stomach then grumbled as he looked around at the open forest and wild land. How far to town? He didn’t remember riding out here where the dead and dying remains of a battle were strewn around him.

  As he picked through the corpses of his fellow soldiers, looking for some form of food, he offered mercy where he could. A man begged him to take his life; his stomach lay next to him and his intestines lay wrapped around his legs.

  Be brave and strong, for this man must be in a lot of pain. Tolbert offered mercy with a stab through the eye into the man’s brain, ending his suffering. He is in a better place now.

  Tolbert managed to find some cheese and bread. Smiling at the find, he sighed and took the food out of Sir Leroy’s knapsack, remembering that the knight liked to eat after battle rather than before. Good old Sir Leroy, couldn’t suffer a battle on a full stomach. The whole scene came to his mind; Sir Le
roy couldn’t leave without food in his knapsack and would often bear the brunt of his fellow soldiers laughing at him for insisting on bread and cheese. Looked like he wouldn’t be needing it now.

  Leaving the battlefield behind, Tolbert headed to the nearest road. When he found the road, Tolbert looked around. An arrow whizzed past his head, embedding itself into the tree an inch from his face.

  “Who are you?” a disembodied voice challenged him, from across the road.

  Looking closely at the arrow, Tolbert noticed, it was a broadhead arrow and the shaft was twenty-five inches in length. He broke into a cold sweat. An archer, his hated enemy had him dead to rights. Tolbert raised his hands above his head, the universal sign of surrender.

  “I am a humble traveller,” Tolbert responded, a quaver betraying his fear.

  “A traveller does not walk around in heavy armour,” the voice stated.

  “I mean no one harm,” Tolbert pleaded.

  From across the road stepped an English archer, wearing leather armour, a six-foot yew bow in hand with another arrow nocked, and displaying the red and white of the king.

  Stepping on to the road, Tolbert started “My name is…”

  The archer raised his bow and let fly the arrow towards Tolbert, before he could finish his sentence.

  Hit in the chest, he flew backwards, the arrow pinning him through his chest to the tree behind him. As be breathed blood, Tolbert’s eyes went cloudy and faded to blackness.

  Tolbert awoke with a start sitting up. He was under a bridge, in his boxer shorts. Under the bridge again. Why couldn’t I be back in my bed? He sighed. Another long walk home. If this was real, I would have died and not come back. Obviously it must be a dream… could I be in a game? But why is the spawn point under a bridge? If this was a game, then I would wake up in a safe area…. Unless there are no safe areas except under that bridge. Patting himself, checking for wounds, he found himself completely unharmed. This must be real; I remember this happening before. Tolbert stood, taking stock of his surroundings. He was three feet from the river. He could smell the sea water and car exhaust. If this is a game…. Should I log off and go to sleep? If I did that here would I wake where I went to sleep, or would I wake back under the bridge? Wait, this is a different, bridge. Where am I?