NOVEL WEB Interlude: Cry of Pain
Earth
Saturday, March 11th, 2062
Late Night
The Atlanta Metropolis, USA
The fans in Daniel's computer rattled in their fixtures as they spun up to their maximum RPM. The heat level in his tiny office spiked several degrees as the electronic device faithfully attempted to process the data streaming into it. A few seconds later, the fans slowed down to idle speeds. Where before the computer's monitor showed a gleaming, rotating game logo, now it only showed a blinking error message:
SERVER TERMINATED. CONNECTION TO HOST LOST.
With a hiss, the battered Immersion VR pod that took up the bulk of the floor popped open, revealing itself to be empty save for a handful of dry brown leaves.
Sunday, March 12th, 2062
Pre-Dawn
The Atlanta Metropolis, USA
Eve's open-floorplan loft apartment was lit only by an array of three computer screens. One of the displays showed a web browser open to a gaming forum, and another to a graphic design program. The larger, central monitor showed the logo for a brand new game, spinning and shining against the black background. Then, without warning, the logo was replaced by an error message:
SIGNAL INTERRUPTED. CONNECTION TO HOST LOST.
The sleek, cutting-edge IVR pod anchored to the wall shifted as its top retracted. The cushioned interior showed no signs of any occupant.
Caitlin Stewart
Friday, March 17th, 2062
Early Afternoon
Rural New York, USA
The shrill sound of her phone ringing distracted Caitlin from her crossword puzzle. She glanced at the screen and frowned when it displayed the caller as UNLISTED. Another scam call, she thought, but then she recognized the 770 area code; that was the code for the northern half of Atlanta's middle ring. Curiosity got the better of her.
"Hello? Yes, this is she; who am I speaking to? Why are the Atlanta Police calling me? What do you mean they're both missing?! No, I haven't heard anything from them in a few days. Um, let me think... Maybe a week and a half ago for Eve, a little longer for Daniel. No, they didn't say anything suspicious; what kind of question is that? No. No. How would I know? I see them twice a year for Christmas and family reunions, and those are happy times. The better question is, what are you doing about this? Yes. Yes. We'll fly down as soon as we can get tickets."
Caitlin thumbed the disconnect icon and set her phone down on the coffee table. Her shoulders began to shake, and a wail tore from her throat. "SEAMUS! OUR BABIES!" She rose to her feet and stumbled towards the back door. It took her several attempts to turn the doorknob, and she fell to her knees as the door swung open. "SEAMUS!"
Seamus Stewart
"SEAMUS!" The sound of the back door slamming open and his wife's agonized scream shattered Seamus's quiet contemplation of his garden. He snapped his head around and leaped to his feet, rushing over to Caitlin's collapsed, sobbing form. Moving with the care of long practice, he gathered his love into his arms. She clung to him, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing her head against his broad chest. "Seamus, our babies, our babies! They're gone!"
Seamus's heart froze solid in his chest. Only carefully-cultivated instincts kept him from crushing Caitlin as the thick muscles in his tree trunk-like arms knotted up. "Gone?" He asked, voice hoarse. He didn't want to ask, dreading the answer, but he needed to know. "Dead?"
His tiny wife shuddered and wailed, squeezing his neck even tighter. "I don't knooow!" She wailed. "The... the police..." Sobs wracked her slender body. Seamus waited for Caitlin to finish; asking more questions would only make things worse. "They haven't... haven't been seen in a week!" Some tension seeped from Seamus's frame. Missing wasn't dead, even if it usually ended up that way. Missing meant there was a chance. And they were both missing; Seamus knew that couldn't be a coincidence. Wherever they were, they would help each other through it.
He stood, barely feeling his wife's weight in his arms, and strode into the house. There were preparations to make. He would have to have Maggie house-sit for them; it might be a while before they returned, and he couldn't leave the cats un-fed or the garden un-tended.
