Amygdala Hijack - A Genetic Engineering Sci-Fi Story of Impending Dystopia

EP. 26 - STOICHOLIC

SIFTING THROUGH THE HUNDREDS of emails that had arrived the previous few days, Peter found nothing from Molli.

"Sweet girl," he lamented. "You used both code words. I sent you out there to die. I'm so sorry."

Warm air from his furnace was now flowing into the garage, and he began pounding at his keyboard to check the cloud sites. He was relieved to discover some of the world's IT server farms still working. Then he checked his own servers and verified the Unager podcast had run earlier in the day, as scheduled.

"Only a few more," he exhaled. "Glad I set them up earlier. I'll get Hats queued right now, even in its rough state. Hope the electricity holds long enough for me to edit it further."

Despite his state of mental disarray, he felt committed to finish the team's objectives. "Let's see. Brokers is next Wednesday the 28th. Hats would run a week from today, the 30th. Not likely to get to Stoicholic, though, who's probably dead anyway. I'll ping to see. Maybe we can advance the interview since I may soon be dead, too. At least my voice might live, and I can go out with a minor sense of accomplishment."

Peter scanned the headings of incoming emails from the Unager show that played hours earlier. Although they were substantially fewer in number, their headings were hopeful: 'Right On,' 'Glad to see you kicking,' 'Rock the Pod,' and similar messages of encouragement. This energized Peter even more to finish the podcast series, despite the nightmare he was living.

"Stoicholic," he typed, "can you move our interview to an earlier day, assuming we still have electricity?"

In an instant, he received a reply. "No. Can't risk it. Now or never. Good?"

Peter rested his head at the back of his chair and stared up at the ceiling. "Seriously?" he thought. "This day? I'm exhausted. Almost died today, three times. The mechs at Ears' condo, mechs at the Square, and my front porch. Now an interview? But he's right, this ends the ordeal, and I can check-out with a clean conscience. Besides, Molli wanted this one. I'll do it for her, alive or not. I'll do it for her."

"Okay," Peter replied. "I assume voice only. No video. Here's the invite, using my bridge."

* * *

"Hello, Peter," a childlike voice began.

"Stoicholic?" he questioned. "I thought you were a guy, and you sound so young."

"Chronologically, yes and no. A story for a future, less eventful time, assuming we get there. I heard the Unager interview as it ran today. That's good. I pulled strings, whatever is left of strings, to make certain that would play."

"How?" Peter asked.

"Another time, if possible. I am aware of your other interviews that are ready to run, as Molli kept me informed. Brokers, Hats, and I'm the last one, correct?"

"Yes, and she's in danger at best."

"I'm aware of that, too. Little I can do. Little either of us can do. If she remains alive, it's by her own wits. That goes for you and me as well."

Her shared knowledge of the podcast and Molli's status made him uncomfortable, and he was beginning to doubt her credibility. Yet at this point, credibility was the least of his worries. Not knowing how long the electricity would remain on, Peter felt they should start the interview.

"Let's get started now. Can't tell how long we have."

"Electrical should continue through the night," she confirmed. "Activities are happening of which most who remain alive are not apprised. Last chance activities, but activities nonetheless. Attempts at rectifying or recompense. Too little too late? Possibly."