Ellison - Mind Hive: a Seattle SciFi Thriller

Mind Hive

A Science Fiction Thriller

JAKE BERRY ELLISON JR.

Copyright 2019 Rooster Dynamics

All rights reserved.

ISBN: 9781548178604

Forever Paige and The Three

"We (the undivided divinity operating within us) have dreamt the world. We have dreamt it as firm, mysterious, visible, ubiquitous in space and durable in time; but in its architecture we have allowed tenuous and eternal crevices of unreason which tell us it is false."

Borges

Part One

I

The big man flicked his legs under the bedsheet, seeking, shifted his head. Adams mind sniffed for the warm and dopey cloud fading from all around him. There it was again. Something had broken or flown through the room, electrically. A bug? Big bug? He tossed onto his left side. The bed creaked under his efforts. He leaned. There it was again. Out there somewhere, buzz buzz buzzing. A goddamn phone! His slumber-panic had some justification. Only three numbers from his contacts would make that thing buzz this time of night: the city editors, the pressmens and the mothers. One of which wouldve had to come from the grave. So either the dead had cellphones or the city editor or Buzz Buzz ... He had no idea what time it was. Timeless is the night. His mind captured the phrase and modified to it a strand of a popular song from his youth: Timeless is the night, when you find yourself alone. He flung himself over onto his other side, facing away from the direction of the sound of the phone. Finally it kicked over to Leave a fucking message already. Irritation and fluttery panic tightened across his chest. Wouldnt be the first time the presses broke down and decisions had to be made for what sections wouldnt get a full run. The buzzing started again. So, it was definitely serious, whatever it was. He groaned into the darkness as the curtain of alcohol and sleeping pills parted slightly before his consciousness. He rejected the world, pushing the side of his face into the pillow. How many more twenty-hour days can he be expected to handle! The phone stopped. A second later, the buzzing started up again.

Fucking fuck!

He flipped over toward the edge of the bed and looked into the dark. A muted glow floated a few feet away, downward. Maybe it was his dead mother after all, seeking rescue from the afterlife as she had episodically sought escape from the nursing home. Go to sleep, mother. Youll have forgotten it all by morning. It stopped. It started. If he doesnt answer, his managing editor will work down the list until someone answers and chases whatever ambulances are streaming through the fog of her dreams. The twenty-four hour news cycle had ruined everyones life. He leaned off the side of the bed and clawed around at the vague light until he found a pant leg, dragged it over and then got the phone out just as it kicked over to message. Kristi Beach, the phone announced with a very bright light. The fucking city editor. Time was 3:45 a.m. No message. He dialed her back preemptively.

Kristi?

Adam! You can be woken from the dead. Terrific. Just got a call I wanted to tell you about.

Oh, okay. I'm always here for you. You know that. Your daughter missing again? Publisher heard something that sounded like a gunshot? He couldn't entirely scrub the panic out of his tone. Despite thirty years in the newspaper business and sleeping drugs, a late night phone call still made him panicky. Or, maybe the panic was because of his decades as an assistant city editor at the Seattle Daily-Record. As his chest tightened more, his doctor yelled at him from the back of his mind: "Youre too young to have these kinds of heart problems! Relax. Its just life!

Your blogger Kristi let the pause drag for a moment for full effect.

Natalie?

Yes.

Sorry.

Can I talk?

Sure, he said, rubbing his left arm. Just my doctor was distracting me.

Sleeping with the enemy?

This point in my life, Id sleep with the publisher. He pushed himself into a sitting position and took a deep breath. The sharp pain might have been imaginary. This really might be it, he thought.

Ha! She sounded awfully chipper, which might normally seem like a good sign save for the time of night. Okay, look, just got off the phone with ...

You know I have a heart problem.

Ted Mannerheims attorney.

Perfect. His chest relaxed. Breath came more easily. A lawyer call didnt mean shit.

Well, he said Natalie took some photos of Mannerheim at a private party, which he said invaded Mannerheims privacy. They want em.

You told him to go to hell. Adam yawned. Jesus he hated these rich tech bastards.

In no uncertain terms. A dish struck a pot or something in her kitchen sink. If Beach was awake, she was moving. Nevertheless, I would like to know what in Sam Hell she was up to, you know, just to get my story straight before my phone rings and its Brodman on the line. Did you send her?

Yes. I sent her to cover one of those private dance parties on the off chance Ted would be there. She got a tip. If the Executive Managing Editor Neal Brodman also got a call, Adam would lose the morning to meetings. His chest retightened just thinking about listening to that pompous

... and that mattered to us because? Sound of liquid pouring into a container. Shed been trying to save her marriage through sobriety, so he hoped it was water. The last thing he needed was a drunk, mid-divorce Beach storming around the office.

Not sure, Adam conceded in tone. Just a hunch. Shes been after me to cover the damn resurgent electronic dance scene and of course I refused. But when she heard Ted was going to be at this party and given his reputation ...

Which we will not speculate about in terms of our motives.

Right. But, we just wanted to see why he would go to some dance party full of 20-somethings.

Okay. I guess she is running a blog and thats sort of blog-like.

Now I feel dirty. He swung his feet off the bed, failing to resist going for the cigarettes in a bedside drawer somewhere in the dark before him. He pointed the phones screen forward for a second, spotted the white dresser and then caught her mid-sentence.

its the new, old world. She paused. A lighter ignited. Shed beaten him to it. Let me put it to you this way. Exhale. Cough. You gave her the assignment.

Exactly. Adam got his own cigarette lit. And why I gave her the assignment is a matter of free speech, and I dont have to tell anyone jack shit about it. He pushed pillows into a ramp against the headboard and leaned back. He had become his mother, smoking in bed though everyone had begged her not to.

I love the First Amendment, she said while exhaling. Now. I think youd better call your girl Friday and let her know lawyers are involved and shes to keep her yap shut. AND no social streaming either, for fuck sake.

Im dialing as I hang up.

He got off the bed and fumbled for the switch on the bedside lamp, got it on, rubbed his face and mic-checked his voice. Put on his pants. Laughed at not wanting to talk to the reporter in his underwear. Goofy. He sat back on the bed, let himself wakeup while the cigarette lasted, preparing for Natalies over exuberance. A lawyer call! Im a real reporter! One lawyer call does not a reporter make Her phone rang about a half a second before she answered.

Uh oh, she said.

Youre fine. Just dont say anything to anyone outside of myself and Kristi. Got it?

K.

What happened?

I kicked ass. Thats what happened.

He imagined her high-kicking and that did not boost his confidence in how this might all turn out.

Yes, but, what happened?

When I got there, I decided I would go all paparazzi and worry about the details later.

He did like her initiative, though hed never say so. Nothing wrecked a young reporters productivity more than praise.