*******
The selection of Synapse hosts on call at the courthouse was limited. It was the next morning, and Franklin decided he needed to conduct some independent research on the details of his trial before his next meeting with Anand Ramasubramanian. Franklin wanted to know more about the murder of Christopher Mark, so he had stepped into his study removed his clothes and squeezed into his Synapse Suit. He was looking for a host who serviced the courtroom in Los Angeles where Anand was tried and convicted. These days everyone was connected in some way to the WetWeb.
Most people found it convenient or stimulating to allow their bodies to be remotely manipulated. Franklin was a little odd in that he had never had the Synaptic Derivation device implanted into his neck. Franklin often utilized a Synapse Suit to control someone else remotely, but he could not allow someone else to take control of his body remotely. When the idea of Synaptic Derivation was introduced it quickly grew into a trend and then a fad. Franklin was in college. Synaptic implant devices became as common as tattoos or body piercing. Franklin, however, never felt comfortable with his peers. He had no real close friends in school. As a result, he stood apart from the rest of society. Watching the others share intimacies via Synaptic Derivation, but too uncomfortable in his own skin to ever consider that someone else might want to take control of his awkward lumpish frame.
People who are attractive easily found lucrative assignments as Synapse hosts. They simply took a dose of Somnambutol and rented out their smooth bodies for the night. They would wake up with a mild hang-over and a nice payment in their WetWeb account. With the general acceptance of Synaptic Derivation and its growing popularity, many people allowed remote manipulation of their bodies to escape from what would otherwise be tedious jobs. By paying a small fee a person with an implant device could allow a remote user to manipulate their body, and thereby take a short virtual vacation from an otherwise boring occupation. Synapse hosts willing to be manipulated by remote users, that needed a body to look up legal records at the local courthouse, were generally of a type that could not get other assignments. They also had no money to pay someone else to manage their boring jobs. Franklin knew the sort of host he would get before he started searching.
Franklin manipulated the visual interface display in his Synapse Suit to scroll through the potential candidates. Their name, experience and cost per hour were all listed at the top of their profile along with a small photo of the host. Reading into the detail, Franklin would learn what jobs they were willing to do while hosting, and read recommendations from previous clients. He could also see the model of a Synaptic interface device that had been implanted into their brain stem.
Franklin always preferred petite female hosts. He found them much easier to maneuver and manipulate remotely. Also, he enjoyed the idea of occupying their lithe bodies. It was a small and secret pleasure; a small indulgence in a world where the WetWeb was commonly used for the most prurient of purposes. The WetWeb and Synaptic derivation had created a second sexual revolution. It enabled the rise of the voyeurs. Using the WetWeb, fantasy and reality intermingled; and there was an abundance of Synapse hosts whose profiles indicated that they were available for any sexual encounter that the remote user might desire. The host usually had no memory of their escapades, sexual or not. Under the influence of hypnotic inducement drugs they would simply wake up the next morning and count the pay-off in their accounts.
Franklin finished the list of available courtroom hosts without seeing anyone who was of any interest to him, so he selected a host at random. The name second from last on the list was Reginald White. He was a tall dark skinned man with boney features and a thick shock of curly black hair. Franklin clicked on the Synaptic Interface access controls and prepared his mind to take control of this man’s body.
The first sensation was the taste of sour smoke. He opened his eyes slightly and found he was in a dim apartment. On a small table in front of him he recognized an empty vial of Somnambutol that Reginald had used when Franklin confirmed the remote access session.
Next to the empty vial a thick cigar lay smoldering on a glass tray. Reginald had been smoking something that was not tobacco; most likely a narcotic.
Franklin was disgusted with the taste and smell. He considered Synapping off, but he would then have to pay the minimum which was two hours; so he decided to make the best of it. He stubbed out the Cigar completely and made his way to the small adjoining kitchenette. He rinsed Reginald White’s eyes, nose, and mouth at the sink until the smell and taste began to return to normal.
“Good enough,” Franklin said out loud. He wanted to hear Reginald White’s voice; the voice was deep and raspy.
Franklin moved Reginald’s body through the door and made his way outside. The courthouse was only a block away, so there was no need to hail a skimmer taxi. It was mid-morning and the bright Los Angeles sunshine glinted off of the glass and chrome of passing skimmers. Franklin walked along in the shade as much as possible. His Synapse host was already reeking of sour smoke, adding a layer of perspiration would not be an improvement.
As he approached the courthouse, he saw a small queue at the metal detector inside the door. He recognized a man standing in line as one of the Synapse hosts from the list. Franklin moved Reginald’s body to the back of the line and waited his turn. As he waited, he searched through the pockets of Reginald White in case he was carrying anything metallic. Franklin found the pockets were empty and the guards waived him through.
Inside the building now, Franklin navigated his host to the archive. It was a large airy room built in the old style with tall windows along the western wall. Thick tapestry had been hung to block the natural light. Franklin maneuvered his host to the Librarian who was seated at a centrally located Kiosk.
“Person, case number, or subject?” the librarian asked.
“Uhmm… person,” Franklin answered. Reginald’s voice sounded like a growl.
“Name?” the librarian asked.
“Anand Ramasubramanian” Franklin said; and then spelled the last name.
The librarian worked on her vid-station interface for a moment, then said, “The State vs. Anand Ramasubramanian; case number 6025541. It’s a capital crime; first degree murder.”
“Yes, that’s the one,” Franklin confirmed.
“Please take the vid-station number six.” The librarian concluded by waving him in the general direction of a row of vid-stations that followed the west wall under the tapestries.
Franklin navigated his host down the row of semi-private vid-stations. He felt like a content man at last. He was here doing research on… what did she call it? A capital crime, he would remember that; he would use that in the feature.
Glancing sideways into the vid-stations, as he passed, he could see other Synapse hosts blankly staring into their screens. Perhaps Lawyers were here, and maybe other content men doing research for features. Maybe they were here researching Al McKnight.
Franklin settled Reginald’s heavy body into the seat at the vid-station number six and initiated the interface. The interface sparkled and then glowed with blue letters. There was a single file displayed. The file was labeled 6025541. Franklin used Reginald’s hand to click on the access pad and open the file. The display changed and now Franklin could see a long list of documents and sub-folders. Nothing made sense as a place to start; many of the folders used cryptic titles that Franklin did not recognize, so he selected a document at random. The interface displayed a white document, with crisp printing, and formal legal letterhead. It was a lengthy and boring document that continually referred to a case called, Blair vs. City of San Francisco.
Franklin could not see any relationship to Anand, and began to wonder if the Librarian had made a mistake. He used the access pad to close the document and returned to the main folder view. He re-sorted the documents and files by date, and then opened the most recent document which was now at t
he top of the list. This document was an appeal and a request for a stay of execution. The document referred to Anand by name and case number, so Franklin was now confident that at least he had the proper file. Reading through the appeal letter he learned that Anand was convicted of the murder of Christopher Mark and was sentenced to be executed by lethal injection. There was nothing new here.
Growing frustrated, Franklin closed the appeal letter and re-sorted the documents by size. The documents and files quickly re-shuffled with the largest size files rising to the top. A folder marked P01A sorted to the top signifying it was the largest. Franklin opened this and discovered it contained a media file. Here was something interesting. Franklin hoped the media file might include a recording of the trial itself or something else that would provide insight into the trial.
Before he could view the media file, Franklin needed to connect the headphones and vid-visor to Reginald’s head. Working remotely, and without a mirror, this action was a challenge especially due to Reginald’s thick hair that kept getting tangled in the device. Franklin remembered that on the list of available Synapse hosts, many wore closely cropped hair cuts. Franklin decided he had selected the worst possible Synapse host for this task. Eventually, Franklin managed to position the headphones and vid-visor, and he activated the media file.
The vid-visor flickered and then displayed a brief introductory screen that simply said:
Case number 6025541.
The State of California vs. Anand Ramasubramanian.
Prosecution Exhibit 1A
The feature started running. It was a first person view of a laboratory. Franklin realized this was not a recording from the trial, this was much better; this was evidence used by the prosecution. It looked like a recording of a Synaptic Interface session. Franklin was dumfounded. Had Anand been serving as a Synapse Host? Had they recorded the murder?
Franklin became incredulous as he watched.
Through the eyes of Reginald White, Franklin watched the recording. The recording was made from the point of view of Anand Ramasubramanian, who was being remotely controlled by an unknown third party. The connection from real to recording, and from Anand to Reginald, was confusing to Franklin. He decided not to think about it. Instead he watched as the brown hands that he recognized from his recent interview with Anand opened a drug locker and removed a bottle of liquefied Somnambutol. Franklin could see Anand walk purposefully across the lab to a medical workstation where a small metallic device rested. It looked like a small coffee maker.
As Franklin watched, Anand opened the Coffee Maker and emptied the bottle of Somnambutol into the reservoir. He activated the device and a red light illuminated. Anand held the now empty bottle about the vent on the top. As he watched small droplets began to form.
Franklin realized that the small device was a humidifier. Anand was using it to vaporize the liquid Somnambutol into the air. Anand picked up the humidifier while it was still running and placed it into a black medical bag. He started walking and the images of doorways and hallways passed in a blur. Franklin could see that Anand began walking down a flight of stairs and then into a heavily secured entry way.
The exit door was strong and appeared to be locked by a metallic box attached where the door knob should be. A military guard armed with a pistol was standing alert by the door.
“Hello, I am stepping out for a walk around the compound,” Franklin heard. He recognized Anand’s voice.
“Leave the bag here, Sir,” The guard replied.
“Quite right,” Anand responded, “I was not thinking… quite right”
Franklin watched Anand’s brown hands place the medical bag on a small table next to the guard’s station.
The guard opened the bag and peered inside. He left the bag open and said, “Thank you, sir. It will be here when you get back.”
Anand stepped up to the door and looked into the metal box affixed to the door. At the bottom of the box was a number pad. Anand quickly entered a code and the door buzzed open.
Outside the sky was dark blue. Franklin watched as the recording showed Anand following a white trail. Eventually Franklin got bored with this and used Reginald’s hand to click on the fast forward controls. The walk along the white trail lasted more than thirty minutes and ended back where they had started. By fast forwarding, Franklin was able to get there in three minutes. Franklin used the access pad to return the playback to normal speed. He watched as Anand opened the security door and entered the entryway.
The guard was still standing next to the black medical bag, except now his alert expression was replaced with a vacant stare. The guard did not turn to look at Anand when he entered; he continued to look at the space in front of him, or maybe he was looking at the wall across the room.
“May I have my bag?” Anand’s voice asked.
The guard lifted the bag from the table and extended it toward Anand without shifting his unfocused gaze.
“May I now have your gun?” Anand’s voice asked in the same casual tone of voice.
The guard unsnapped the holster strap and lifted the gun; he held it out towards Anand in the same way he had held the bag.
“Thank you,” Anand said.
Anand placed the gun into the bag and proceeded up the stairs. Again the white passageways and doorways blurred, until Anand emerged into a large room that was filled with work stations and cubicles. There were no windows and it seemed empty. Anand walked straight to a large office across the room; the name on the door said, “Christopher Mark."
Anand pushed the office door open and entered. The office contained a sparse assortment of furniture; a desk, a bookcase. Across from the desk was a modern Synapse Suit. Anand walked around behind the Synapse Suit; he could see that it was occupied. Franklin could see from the point of view of Anand, by way of Reginald White, that the Synapse Suit was occupied, presumably by Christopher Mark.
A Synapse Suit covered the entire front part of the body including the face, arms, front torso, and legs. Looking at the occupant from this position, behind the suit, all that could be seen was the back of his head, neck, and shoulders.
Franklin watched as the brown hands opened the black medical bag, then lifted out the gun. The weapon was considered briefly; it was dark metallic with a rectangular barrel. The brown hands lifted the black gun until it was pointed directly behind the exposed back of Christopher Mark’s head. It was at point blank range, and then closer, until the muzzle was almost touching. Then, without hesitation, the hand squeezed; the muzzle barked and flashed and the media file abruptly ended.
Franklin was looking at a blank screen and a flashing data counter that read, “Elapsed time: 59 Minutes.”
Occupying a Synapse Suite himself, Franklin began to feel vulnerable. He sensed cool air on the back of his neck; his scalp itched and he could not scratch. His concentration was now broken, and he failed to shut-down the court house vid-screen. Reginald White’s thick fingers would not click on the correct buttons.
Franklin squirmed inside the Synapse Suit. He shifted his weight from side to side, which caused Reginald’s body to also move back and forth in the vid-station seat. This action succeeded in knocking the headphones and vid-visor off of his head and onto the floor.
Now Franklin’s discomfort grew to near panic. He no longer cared about closing up the court room file or wrapping up his session with Reginald White, he just wanted out of the Synapse Suit - now!
Franklin Synapped off bypassing the shutdown sequence by disconnecting his suit from the WetWeb. Then he pulled his face, arms, and torso up and away from the Synapse Suit. He quickly wheeled about to confront an unseen assailant that he imagined must be behind him.
Franklin screamed in shock and surprise when his paranoid imagination proved right. A figure was standing directly behind him. Watching him. But, his scream turned into a laugh and then a chuckle. Franklin inhaled deeply and then exhaled. The panic att
ack subsided. It was all for nothing. No one was really in the room. It was only Molly; the new Warmbot. She was standing quietly behind him; watching him.
“Kiss the Saloon girl, taste the whiskey, smell the gun smoke.”
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