Impulse: Feedback Serial Book One: Feedback Dystopia, #1

IMPULSE

Episode One of the Feedback Serial

Shane Hall

Editing by Sandy Ngyuen, a Fresh Set of Eyes

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The Feedback Serial is a bizarre story, and entirely a work of fiction. Any and all similarities to real‐life events, persons, etc. are entirely coincidental and unintentional.

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For now, please enjoy Impulse!

Chapter One

The Longest Night

There was a sign outside the library at Coltra University that read: No Hard Heels. Help Our Students Concentrate. The library’s vast atrium had many balconies overlooking the main floor’s checkerboard of brown and white travertine slabs. Despite the inherent risks of stone flooring, the students had petitioned against the traditional rubber floors. Now, they walked with skill, quietly rolling their feet.

A freshman with dyed red hair and a shirt of the same color clutched both hands to the straps of an orange backpack. He kept his head down, darting his eyes up every few seconds, but he bumped into another student and fell over.

Sharp cracking sounds and broken pieces of something scraping against each other inside the backpack caused everyone to stop. Students who were studying or walking on the main floor focused their sights on the fallen freshman, and students on the higher floors walked to the balconies to look down on the spectacle.

He slipped his arms out of the orange straps as carefully as possible, but the shattered shards enunciated every little movement. Finally free of the pack, he stood up. As he was reaching down to retrieve it, a police officer approached him.

Young man, what’s in there? asked the officer, looking down at the backpack.

I don’t know, sir.

You don’t know what’s in your own backpack?

It’s not mine, sir. I’m carrying it for someone.

The policeman raised his eyebrows. Let’s take a look inside. He got on one knee and undid the soft buttons on the pack. He opened it and shone his flashlight into the dark space, revealing jagged curved and triangular pieces, and long stem segments. What are these?

I don’t know, said the freshman as he quickly glanced at the student he’d bumped into.

The pale, muscular boy had inch‐high hair that stood straight up. Like everyone else, he was stock‐still as he watched the scene.

These look like wine glasses. Why did you bring glass here? asked the officer as he got to his feet. Are you smuggling these? Is someone tracking your location? Give me your TCS.

I don’t have a slip right now.

College kid with no TCS, huh? The officer forced a hand down the boy’s pocket and pulled out a thin slip of fibrous plastic. He gripped it from the sides so that it didn’t detect his fingerprints. Article 998 dictates that refusal to deliver requested electronic devices, such as Total Connectivity Slips, to inquiring officers may be interpreted as probable cause for arrest.

The red‐haired student kept his eyes down and said nothing.

Fine. If you take no liberty to speak, you probably won’t mind if I use the clamp. Article 1003‐A dictates that upon refusal to answer questions, the sound clamp may be applied until the perpetrator is processed at a police station. Until then, you have forfeited the opportunity to defend yourself verbally. The officer reached into a pack on his belt and took out a metallic muzzle.

Excuse me, officer, said the bulky young man in a friendly voice. I have to ask, is that really necessary?

Stay back, young man, the officer commanded.

The kid probably just forgot his slip. Glass is a controlled substance, sure, but it’s also permitted in small personal quantities.

There’s a lot of glass in there. It’s beyond the limit, said the officer.

But is it all for him, personally?

The red‐haired freshman was shaking his head.

Speak up for yourself, said the well‐built student.

No. None of it’s for me.

He’s still liable for third‐degree disruption, and that’s that, said the officer. Or should I arrest both of you? You are partly to blame for the noise. Anything to say to that? You got a name you want to give me while you test an officer? No?

The student crossed his arms, hiding his clenched fists. A very short student in a goth dress came up behind him. She snaked an arm around his waist, calming him down.

The glass smuggler had been inching backward during the mild altercation. The officer grabbed him by the shoulder and pushed the metal muzzle over his face, fastening it at the back of his head.

If you speak, or make any loud vocalization, the clamp will deliver a small charge to your facial muscles, said the officer. Nod your head if you understand.

The freshman shut his eyes tightly and nodded.

The officer yanked the boy’s hands behind his back and put him in handcuffs. Then he pulled out his TCS and used it to activate the clamp before dialing the station.

Area Twelve, please connect me to University Watch. Thank you.…Hello, Fred? We’ve got a glass smuggler in the library. I’m bringing him in now, but I’ll need a replacement to patrol the area. The officer accidentally stepped on the backpack and the horrific crunching caused him to jump. He put his TCS back to his ear. And someone needs to call for a soundproof box so we can get this out of here. Thanks, said the officer as he hung up. And as for the rest of you, don’t forget you’re in a public place. Keep it down, he smirked as he hauled away his prey.

With an impotent, wide‐eyed glance, the freshman looked back at his defender.

Harsh, whispered the gothic student. I was in the bathroom when it started. What happened?

I bumped into him, the well‐built student whispered. If I hadn’t, he’d have gotten to wherever he was going, and he’d be fine.

Oh, come on. That is so not your fault.

It’s not his, either, Winona. There’s no harm in what he was carrying.

Aside from some minor cuts, no. Let it go. Winona touched his shoulder. You can’t get upset every time something little like this happens. It’s fucked up, but it’s happening again somewhere else, right now, and it’ll keep happening.

I don’t like to let it go. It feels like another failure.

You haven’t failed.

It just bothers me. I mean, the Initiative might happen in a few months, and for him to be exiled for something like that, it’s nonsense.

No argument there. Hey, she said, lifting a finger in epiphany, you could ask Will to take care of it.

That’s a good idea. Yeah… he might be able to help.

So, where to? asked Winona.

I thought Freyara was in the inner courtyard, but she’s not. Let’s try upstairs.

The couple walked up the stairs, and they looked like complete opposites. His soft face was troubled, while his tall body was built for fighting. She was square‐jawed with a welcoming visage, but her body was just under five feet tall. And his white pants and baby‐blue polo—with chrome‐glossed shining sleeves—contrasted with her Victorian, black velvet and lace frock.

Once they reached the first floor, he led her to a door with a small window. The sign on the door read: Honors Student Lounge. He hit the door‐light button, and bright red and green lights strobed inside the dimly lit room.

A short, dark‐skinned student with kinky hair and a hi‐top fade opened the door, deactivating the red and green lights.

Eric, she said, come in, please.

Hey, Freyara, said Eric as Winona held the door for him. I’d like you to meet Winona of Task House. We’re dating, and she’s been asking to meet you.

Oh. Freyara shook Winona’s hand and they kissed each other once on each cheek.

Had to bend down a bit? Winona asked.

A little, Freyara said, blushing.

They went inside and sat at a table surrounded by lush sofa chairs. A single lamp in the corner lit the bookshelves that lined the walls. The shelves had clear plastic doors that were locked for security—protecting relics of a time long gone.

I’ve got an hour before I leave for Illuminate, said Freyara. What’s on your mind?

I was thinking I should go with you to the meeting, Eric said. After all, you’ve invented things to help me, and it couldn’t hurt to have a live reference.

Oh no, Eric. You didn’t come down here just to ask that, did you?

I knew you’d say no if I suggested it over the phone.

Forgive me, but I can’t see how inventing something strictly for medicine&emdash;that has nothing to do with lighting&emdash;would be relevant to a lighting company. They won’t care. Freyara stood up and paced around the table. I don’t know… I just don’t know.

Relax, said Eric. Trust me. You’re not just going there to show off a single invention. You’re showing off your skills as an inventor. I want to be a spokesperson for you.

I just wanted to meet you, Winona said, but actually, I think I could help steer the meeting in the right direction. I’m almost a licensed psychologist.

But what logical reasons could I possibly give for having you both there? Freyara quizzed.

Freyara, it’s not unheard of in business for people to bring backup to meetings. Anyway, I’m your friend.

No friends, Freyara said. She stopped pacing to squeeze the top of a sofa chair. No, I can’t just bring friends. It’s not professional.

Please, it’s no big deal, said Eric. You’re the best college student in the world, and you have a product that will allow Illuminate to dominate their market. They won’t care if we’re there. Besides, I’ve seen you present at events, and you don’t do well when you’re alone.

Really? You’ve been to some of the expos?

Yeah. Your material is always excellent, but the presentations… Eric seesawed his hand from side to side like a rocking boat. I think you just get nervous. Please, let me help, he said, looking to a frowning Winona.

"Let us help,"