Titanic Twelve Tales - A Short Story Anthology RMS Titanic (10 page)

“Sure you can, old man, I’ve been waiting for you because it’s time for us to cross over together. Come on, old man. Follow me.”

Matrix
Titanica

Footsteps pound after me. I try to run. My legs don’t work. A strong hand grabs my shoulder, the other twists my arm painfully up my back. It’s a man, a uniformed officer. He slaps restraints around my wrists. They hurt. His lips curl into a wry smile when he steps around to face me. Always the same face, in my dreams, never in life. “I’ve done nothing wrong!” But my protests are in vain.

“If I had a dollar every time I’ve heard that, I’d be a rich bloke, instead of pounding the beat banging up slobs.”

My nostrils twitch as his foul breath nears my face. I don’t want to breathe but know I must. “Honestly, I’ve done nothing,” I plead, knowing my words are falling on deaf ears.

“Then why were you trying break out of the Matrix?”

“I was…” My body stiffens, my throat dries, words won’t form but I know what’s coming. He scans me with his handheld body monitor and it bleeps back the information, making the same calculations it always does.

“Central Control says you’re trying to jump ship. I’m arresting you for attempting to escape Matrix
Titanica
. Anything you say will be recorded and read out at your hearing and failure to comply with Matrix law will result in further punishment. Understood?”

“
Er
…” No words. No defence.
Nothing.
I wriggle, squirm, struggle but the automatic stinger attached to the hand restraints zaps me and I go limp.

His powerful hand grabs my upper arm and hauls me up. “Use your
head,
this isn’t the first time you’ve been pulled in. You know the form.”

I take his advice and come quietly. He keys my code into central terminal notifying the Matrix that he’s recovered the escapee. He escorts me to the elevator and deposits me inside. I’m the only occupant, there’s plenty of room for more but there’s never anyone else. The officer steps in beside me.

Soon I’m descending into the bowels of the mother ship, but I can’t see out. I’m trapped. My hands are still cuffed, but this time in front of me. I look down at them. Familiar, they are always my hands. How did they get from behind my back to my lap? Did he remove the restraints? I can’t remember. It’s not important. I know we are close to the core of the Matrix. It won’t be long.

“All right?” he asks, as if he cares! I make no reply. I know the form. He repeats the question. I do nothing. He stops the elevator. I sink to the floor. I play dead. He yanks open the door. “And you can stop playing stupid games,” he snarls, “or would you like me to add wasting police time to your charge sheet?”

I take no notice. It makes no difference. The outcome is always the same.

I hear the click as he arms his stun gun. I know what he is going to do. He puts the elevator switch on hold and prods me with his foot. I feel it around my left calf but still I don’t budge. He shouts, “Get up or I’ll fire.”

His warning goes unheeded, it has to be. I have to convince him that the figure lying on the floor can’t possibly hurt him. I wait for the sound of his knees clicking as he squats alongside me. He should have learnt by now to restrain my feet. I spring to life, kicking the gun from his hand, then a double kick blow to his ribs. He’s winded and staggers backwards, striking his head on wooden panelling as he falls.

No time to think. No time to plan. I’ve done this before. I know the form. I take control, seize his monitor, punch a few buttons,
tell
it to ERASE my code and details. My hand restraints spring open, drop to the floor with a clatter. The stun gun lies abandoned. I grab it and aim at the officer letting him have a full dose. “That’ll teach you,” I cry triumphantly, “if you think you’re keeping me back in Matrix
Titanica
think again, arsehole.” Leaping out of the elevator, I don’t look
back,
I don’t care about the officer. I’m free again. Free to find an escape route.

I wander around the corridors. Corridors I don’t know, I’m lost. I’m alone but I don’t feel scared. There’s nobody about, nobody to harm me, nobody to see me. I come to a row of staterooms, I try each door,
I
have to. They are all locked. I hurry up the grand staircase, deserted. Up, up and up I go, racing, taking the stairs two at a time

I reach the gymnasium full of people. I go inside. I’m wearing a life-jacket like the others, old-fashioned tabard style, white canvas with square cork filled pockets. It’s far too big for me.

A six pack Adonis greets me with a broad tooth-whitened smile, “We’re ready now for your work out.”

My mouth drops open, I’ve not been here before, this shouldn’t happen. I’m supposed to get out of the game once I’m free of the officer’s clutches. But this guy is new, he’s physically toned, he’s gorgeous. Why is such a beautiful man bothering to talk to me? I let him lead me to the exercise machines. I go willingly. But I can hear the steam blowing off from the boilers. Matrix
Titanica
has stopped. This shouldn’t happen. I get out of the game before the...

“We’ve worked out a set of exercises for you,” he flashes me a smile. I’m taken in, speechless I ogle him, I’d agree to anything he suggests. “I’ll just set the machine going,” he fiddles with the static bicycle, “just gentle exercise to start.”

I want to reach out to him, touch his smooth glistening skin, run my fingers along his taut muscles,
feel
the strength of him inside me…

I’m peddling, slow pace at first. My legs are moving. Joy. They never work when I confront the officer. Here in the gymnasium, things are different, I feel welcome,
people
surround me I am part of the throng. The bicycle pace quickens and I struggle to keep up.
Faster.
It’s taking me all my concentration to keep up, to stay in the saddle. I grip the handlebars, knuckles deathly white. Anxiety bites, I gasp for air, I can’t carry on. I plead for the machine to stop. Nothing happens. I cannot break free.

Where’s the Adonis now? In desperation I plead for help. He’s gone, so has everyone else. I’m alone, attached to an out-of-control, old-fashioned static bicycle. I can’t stop it. It’s getting faster and faster. Blood pressure soaring, body heat climbing, it takes all I’ve got to fight the machine. I scream aloud and wrench myself out of the program.

Exhausted, I lean back onto soft pillows, slowly letting my body rest, my discarded laptop bleeps at my side. Inwardly I curse myself for being taken in by handsome broad shoulders, tapered waist and narrow masculine hips. He’s virtual, I know he’s an avatar, I know he’s not real, but I wanted him.

I struggle downstairs to the kitchen, open the refrigerator, close my eyes and bathe in the cooling air. Then I see it, a huge mountain of ice, covering any food that might have been stored there. I slam the door. Exhausted I sink onto a kitchen chair wondering how many more times I must play the Matrix
Titanica
game.

My tablet is lying idly on the table. I push the button and bring it to life.
Plans to build replica liner Titanic II
screams the headline. The virtual program is becoming reality. How long do we have before it comes true? I know if I go back I will escape the officer when he arrests me but what will happen when it becomes real? I shudder at the thought.

Reluctantly I return to bed and my abandoned laptop. I’m very tired but part of me doesn’t want to sleep, I don’t want to go back but I know I must. There are places in Matrix
Titanica
I’ve not been to, doors I’ve never been through. They don’t exist, not yet. But I must go back, try to reach another level, another deck and discover why the original program failed.

I start by selecting my class, next chose a stateroom. I usually travel first-class, I know all the other passengers by now, I’ve sailed so many times. I’m escorted to my stateroom and shown the accommodation. My steward introduces himself and asks if I am travelling with a valet. I didn’t used to, but now I do, I created him a few months ago, another avatar but he has a habit of disappearing when I really need him. He’s never helped me with the security officer. He unpacks my clothes, presses my suits and ensures I am dressed correctly.

I hear the bugle calling everyone to dinner. I walk along the corridor, nodding to acquaintances, smiling at the young women, society demands niceties,
mentally
I’m noting which of the men might be approachable. I already have a list of stateroom numbers, I’ve used them before and know I shall not be turned away, or worse, exposed. Early twentieth century British law prevails in Matrix
Titanica
.

I enjoy my table company, conversation is lively and my companions are well-heeled. I tell them what I want them to know. Sometimes I change my story. My fellow passengers do not seem to notice. I’m sure Central Control logs every word, action, and thought. Captain Smith is dining at the adjacent
table,
he looks very formidable but every inch the commander. I’m tempted to tell him the truth, to test him, to try to screw up his programming, but I know it would be futile. Central Control would see he keeps to his original course.

After dinner I take my usual place in the Smoking Room, a fellow who I know is a professional gambler suggests I join his card table. I know the form, he’ll squeeze every last dollar or pound out of the other poor suckers. Not me, I’ve played before, but Central Control won’t allow him to remember. Like Smith, he’s not allowed to sabotage the program. On the way back to my stateroom, I take a detour. I would like to find the Adonis from the gymnasium. I’d like to meet him again, but there’s no way I’m going on one of his machines.

It’s Sunday and I attended the church service. To keep up appearances I have been very charming to an American couple and their daughter. She keeps blushing every time I speak to her but
I
...no I couldn’t. I know my own preferences but inside Matrix
Titanica
the date is April 14
th
1912, attitudes are very different from today. I can’t afford to be accused of sodomy

I glance at my pocket watch. It’s getting
late,
I have to make my escape from the program before we strike the iceberg. “Hello,” says the Adonis barring my way along the corridor. “Are you enjoying the voyage?”

“Yes, immensely,” I answer, I’m thrown, I can’t understand why he is here. I am confused.

“Care for a drink, old man?” he asks.

Blindly I follow him along the
corridor,
he taps on a stateroom door. Another young man answers and invites us inside. I fill with anticipation, arousal courses through my veins, when the Adonis suggests a card game.

“Strip Jack?” the young man asks.

We begin the game and for the first time in Matrix
Titanica
I feel happy. I’m only steps away from completing the program. I’ll stay with the Adonis and his
friend,
I know I won’t meet the officer again because I won’t be trying to escape. I shall tell my two companions there aren’t enough lifeboats when the last boat has departed. We shall go down with the ship.

Game over. Matrix
Titanica
has won.

About the Author

Lynda
Dunwell
writes historical romantic fiction. Her novels are usually set during the nineteen or twentieth
centuries
. She adores period settings, the costumes and the escapism the past provides.

A Titanic enthusiast from an early age, it was not surprising that Lynda wrote a Titanic novel
Tomorrow Belongs to Us: Titanic Novel
which was published as an e-book in February 2012 by Musa Publishing. Inspired by her research and her love of short story writing, Lynda decided to put together a Titanic themed anthology of stories. And so Titanic Twelve Tales was conceived.

To learn more about Lynda, go to her website:
www.lyndadunwell.com
,
or email her Lynda
Dunwell
@ gmail.com

Tomorrow Belongs to Us: Titanic Novel

Innocently embroiled in international espionage, Lucy Mainwaring sails on board RMS
Titanic,
will she and the man she loves survive?

Follow Lucy through the corridors of Edwardian England in 1912 and onto the most famous ship in the world. Tomorrow Belongs to Us is a sweet historical
romance.

Short –listed at the 2012 UK Festival of Romance in the best short romance
category.

Published February 2012 ISBN: 978-1-61937-125-5

Available from:

www.musapublishing.com

www.amazon.com

www.amazon.co.uk

and
most
other
ebook
stores.