Flee or Kill: The Future Of Reality TV (Future Forward Book 2) Read online

  Flee or Kill

  The Future of Reality TV

  D Frank Green

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Chapter 54

  Chapter 55

  Chapter 56

  Chapter 57

  Chapter 58

  Chapter 59

  Chapter 60

  Chapter 61

  Chapter 62

  Chapter 63

  Chapter 64

  Chapter 65

  Chapter 66

  Chapter 67

  Chapter 68

  Chapter 69

  Chapter 70

  Chapter 71

  Chapter 72

  Chapter 73

  Chapter 74

  Chapter 75

  Chapter 76

  Chapter 77

  Chapter 78

  Chapter 79

  Chapter 80

  Chapter 81

  Chapter 82

  Chapter 83

  Chapter 84

  Chapter 85

  Chapter 86

  Chapter 87

  Chapter 87

  Chapter 88

  Chapter 89

  Chapter 90

  Chapter 91

  Chapter 92

  Chapter 93

  Chapter 94

  Chapter 95

  Chapter 96

  Chapter 97

  Chapter 98

  Chapter 99

  Chapter 100

  Chapter 101

  Chapter 102

  Chapter 103

  Chapter 104

  Chapter 105

  Chapter 106

  Chapter 107

  Chapter 108

  Chapter 109

  Chapter 110

  Chapter 111

  Chapter 112

  Chapter 113

  Chapter 114

  Chapter 115

  Chapter 116

  Chapter 117

  Chapter 118

  Chapter 119

  Chapter 120

  Chapter 121

  Chapter 122

  Chapter 123

  Chapter 124

  Chapter 125

  Chapter 126

  Chapter 127

  Chapter 128

  Chapter 129

  Chapter 130

  Chapter 131

  Chapter 132

  Chapter 133

  Chapter 134

  Chapter 135

  Chapter 136

  Chapter 137

  Chapter 138

  Chapter 139

  Chapter 140

  Chapter 141

  Chapter 142

  Chapter 143

  Chapter 144

  Chapter 145

  Chapter 146

  Chapter 147

  Chapter 148

  Chapter 149

  Chapter 150

  Chapter 151

  Chapter 152

  Chapter 153

  Chapter 154

  Chapter 155

  Chapter 156

  Chapter 157

  Chapter 158

  Chapter 159

  Chapter 160

  Chapter 161

  Chapter 162

  Chapter 163

  Also by D Frank Green

  About the Author

  (C) Douglas Green

  2016

  ISBN 78-1-897395-34-9

  All Rights Reserved.

  You can contact Frank at DFrankGreen.com

  Created with Vellum

  13/05/2167 15:00:00

  It was the third day of the run and the runner had set a distance record and had not been seen, much less shot, by the Chase Team. Drones broadcast across the Corporate nets, thousands of people watched his every move, tracked his biometrics, and placed bets on all possible aspects of his success or failure.

  At their regular table in the Techno-Warrior, their favorite bar, Jake Connon and his four best friends sat surrounded by multiple wall screens showing the chase, but paid more attention to their scrolling personal info feeds, pop-up-table holographic displays and beer. As usual, no matter the time, tables overflowed with beer and food baskets. People filled the dance floor, a few closer than allowed by current regulation. Music screamed from multiple speakers and the base vibration threatened to overwhelm all other sensations. Screens covered the ceilings, walls and multiple channels pulsated for attention creating a visual and auditory overload. It was crowded, noisy and overflowing with young people. It was perfect.

  "Oh crap. The word is Jacobs is springing an advanced server code test on us first thing Monday morning," messaged Jake into his subvocal voice feed, "Smithy says he found a draft in his garbage files."

  "Garbage picker," posted Kevin.

  "Well, somebody has to clean up," replied Devon. "It's the only way he'll pass anyway. Stupid fokker."

  Jake shook his head. "Jacobs probably planted it there for him to find. But we won't have trouble with it anyway so relax." He looked at Devon, he'd changed his hair color again, and knew this new color - bleached blonde - wasn't going to make him any more successful with the women. Devon saw him looking, raised a questioning eyebrow and Jake only shrugged. He's a stupid fokker for such a smart guy thought Jake.

  Jake channeled the runner's biometric data in his eye feed. The runner's blood-glucose graph had turned and headed sharply downwards. Jake decided the program would end in the next half hour when total exhaustion set in. "Half hour to end. He loses. Fokked. One beer." he said.

  "I'll take that, half hour plus, one beer matched," said John.

  "Ho, check the odds on him making it all the way," said James. Some of the wall screens showed betting odds; they were ignored as the boys could call them to their personal eye feeds with a few subvocal commands.

  The overhead drone views tightened to show a former candidate for the Olympic games. Drenched and covered in mud from the incessant rain, his clothes ripped and body bloodied from the ever-present thorn bushes and black flies, he pumped across the rolling hills.

  "Speed graph is steady though," said Kevin more intent on getting the other two to argue than bet himself.

  "Well, take the bet then, I can drink more than one beer," replied Jake smiling,
raising his hands and waving Kevin forward with his fingers. "C'mon."

  "Done. Hope your credits are good today." Kevin didn't hesitate. He'd started drinking an hour before the others and didn't need the encouragement. He also hadn't checked the biometrics.

  "I'll give you he's still running well but the biometrics never lie," said Jake.

  Half the screens around the room showed the view from the personal eye feed of the runner. Rolling hills of short grasses covered in the purples and blues of fall blooming asters and golden yellows of goldenrods bounced along with his runner's cadence - in high contrast to the techno-color pulsating walls of the bar.

  "Can you hear what he's saying?" asked Kevin.

  "Yeah, he's repeating something over and over. It's "one more step, one more step," said James.

  "Did you hear somebody say something?" asked Kevin. "I didn't think this one could talk anymore, I thought he had his head stuck so far up his console he'd forgotten how to speak."

  "Nice. I submitted my senior thesis yesterday though," said James. "Kevin - how's yours coming along? You get that last module to track and play nicely yet? And what's the date? Mine's in two weeks early. Want to put a beer on it? You'll need an extension?"

  What the others didn't know yet was I beat him by two days Jake thought. Should I tell them? Nah, let him enjoy his moment. They'll figure it out sooner or later. Jake finished the last half of his beer without stopping, plunked the glass down on the table top, "I'm thirsty and you boys are keeping me topped up tonight."

  "Glucose level says he isn't reaching the safe zone so do you think he'll win the vote?" said Devon. "Look at his run, he's getting a bit wobbly, slowing down. The Chase Team should be on him any minute now"

  "Speak of the Captain and his Team, catch this action," said Jake flicking his finger to the screen in front of him and sending it to the other table top screens.

  The runner was not permitted downloads so he didn't see the Captain's feeds added to the prime social nets and the team's feeds to secondary channels for those who followed individual troopers. The Captain's eye feed delivered long-distance visuals of the runner moving across the flower-filled meadow while his ear feeds provided sound coverage. Programmers mixed both into the feeds to make them available for downloading. Viewers saw the Chase Team getting closer and closer and now everybody except the runner understood the end was near.

  "Look at the betting odds for his biometric levels when he takes the first shot," said James.

  "I don't want any of that. This sucker is going to crash when he gets hit," said Kevin.

  Jake pulled up the runner's personal history and press releases, saw the Secretary standing beside him in one picture, arms draped around each other's shoulders. He thought about this for a second. The Secretary is running an old friend. If he's angry enough to run him, he'll take him out and do it slowly he decided.

  "A beer says the runner takes three shots or more before he stays down." said Jake.

  "Done."

  Powered by beer, the conversation flowed smoothly.

  "He's slowing," said Jake.

  "Shit, it's only been a few minutes since we made the bet. He won't last," said John.

  "Here it comes. Number one," said Jake.

  The central big-screen view switched to the Captain's view feeds through the gunsights and watched his heads-up brain chip display the weapons systems as he settled in for a shot. A drone settled in behind him to frame the Captain and the runner.

  The bar went dead quiet. Jake suddenly realized the broadcast sound was almost silent. Frogs had stopped croaking. No birds flew overhead. The only sound was the incessant hum of mosquitoes and black flies.

  The boys heard the sizzling, frying sound of the laser bolt as it hit the runner's side leaving an inch-wide burn across his pale skin. Involuntarily, they all grimaced.

  "That's gotta hurt," said Devon.

  "Poor bastard just got his makers-call," said Kevin.

  The runner spun, barely kept his footing but didn't fall. The wound wasn't deep, and the heat cauterized it so there was little bleeding. But the pain and smell of burning skin staggered him. He stumbled, nearly tripping, for a dozen steps.

  "He'll keep going, he's good," said Devon.

  "Look at his face. The man is a machine again. He knows he's done, and he's going to go all in," said Jake.

  "Sucker just hit his starting pace. Look at those legs pumping," said Kevin.

  "Biometrics rising, adrenalin off the charts but peaking," said Jake.

  "Bet he gets less than a quarter mile," said John. There were no takers.

  The drone feed showed his face changing from pain and panic to a fixed mask, almost devoid of expression. His years of training paid off as he again appeared to regain his focus. Between the pain and the adrenalin rush, he hit his starting pace.

  As the runner sped up, the Captain and his Team used power assists to narrow the gap between them. But when the Team got within fifty yards, they kept pace with the runner allowing him the dignity of continuing this record run and possibly a final sprint.

  "His panic is settling, adrenalin levels crashing. I don't think he can go much longer at this pace," said Jake.

  The main screen shifted again to the Captain's eye feed and gun sights. Everyone in the bar, including the boys, focused on the screens covering the walls.

  "Leg shot coming up for sure," said Kevin. "This is a tough sucker though, all that training and running paid off for him. He'll win the vote for sure. No way he'll lose even if he didn't get all the way to the safe zone."

  The screens showed the thigh burn and the spinning collapse as the runner had his focus completely shattered by the burning pain. He hit hard and rolled

  The audience heard the Captain say, "Hold gentlemen, let's see if he stays down." Three more drones added their vid-feeds to the network.

  The runner didn't disappoint the Captain or the viewers as he staggered to his feet. He staggered the first few steps and then, muscle memory returning, he increased his speed. But he ran much, much slower and with a great deal less grace than just a few short minutes ago. It was charitable to call it running; it was more like a brave stagger. But he moved through the pain.

  "Adrenalin levels are going back up. This is one tough fokker," said Jake.

  "Look at the viewer comment levels, highest I've seen this year on any chase," said Kevin

  "Whoa, check the vid stream. Burning right by, the wee ones are mixing vids like crazy."

  "To hell with that, look at that fokker run with a hole in his leg." The main screens showed a mix of satellite overhead, multiple drone views, the runner's and Captain's eye feeds all running across the field.

  "Ragged breathing. Blood pressure dropping slightly. Heart rate maxed out. Adrenalin supply almost exhausted and lactic acid rate at maximum," said Sergeant Price. The Sergeant's voice in the Captain's headset was clear and broadcast to the largest audience in chase history.

  "How far has he got in him?" asked the Captain.

  "A hundred yards max," Sergeant Price said.

  "A knock-down, shoulder-shot then."

  The bar filled with cheers and jeers as the burst punched a hole right through the runner's shoulder. He spun and crashed to the ground in a tangle of arms and legs. He was down. His biometrics showed he wasn't getting back up.

  "I'll accept those beers any time now," said Jake.

  The boys sat silent as the main view changed to the runner's feed and everyone in the city became the victim for this last moment.

  They saw a body mirrored in the Captain's eye shield and in the reflection saw the blood seeping from his shoulder, his legs twisted and splayed sideways from the rest of his body, a bloody hole though his thigh. The eyes in the reflection were dull and tired, so very tired, and the face was twisted in pain. The bright blue sky framed the black of the Captain's helmet and shoulders.

  It was the end of the show while the vote was counted and the Captain waited for the result
s.

  All viewers subvocalized a vote and didn't take their eyes off the Captain's face. Each one guessed what the response would be and most expected the runner to be spared.

  They saw the gun at the Captain's side, saw it hanging loosely and read the hesitation in the stance. Most thought they saw the Captain's disappointment as the vote went to the runner.

  "Beer says he goes free," said Devon.

  "You're on, " said Jake. "Secretary won't let him win."

  "Another beer says you're wrong," said John.

  Jake nodded. "Done."

  The boys never took their eyes off the screen, never took a breath, waiting for the results.

  They heard the Captain say, "No, you're fokked!"

  The view snapped to the Captain's eye feed. A small neat circle burned between the runner's eyes, his eyes widened at the shock and viewers watched as their light brightened, then faded and disappeared. Blood erupted to fill the eye sockets and create a river to his ears as the view faded.

  The room erupted with cheers.

  "Shit. That just cost me my beer money for the rest of the week."

  Jake sat looking at the screen. The look on this runner's eyes, the last few seconds of the Chase, played itself over and over in his mind. Over and over he watched the light fade, disappear to nothingness and darken. A thought played at the corner of his awareness but it never got a chance to emerge as Kevin punched him on the shoulder.

  Jake hated to admit it but the Flee or Kill program was one of his guilty pleasures. He knew it was all scripted by the Secretary but like the rest of the city, he didn't much care. Jake decided if he ever had to run, he'd pick the option to carry weapons. At least that way he might have a chance to fight back when they caught him. A small smile played around at the edges of his mouth. That poor bastard must have thought he'd beat the Team to the safe zone and he was close to winning, so close, he thought.

  "You falling asleep over there?" Kevin asked.

  Jake smiled, "Not sleeping, dreaming of all the beer you guys are going to buy me tonight. Bring 'em on boys, bring 'em on."

  Program ended, runner forgotten, the music resumed. The dance floor filled up, bass speakers vibrations filled the dancer's chests, and eye feeds scrolled. More importantly, glasses of cold beer stacked up in front of Jake.

  Jake kept scanning the crowd, looking for the girl of his dreams. Her brother, about the size of a gorilla, chaperoned her several nights a week ensuring horny young men like Jake could only watch and dream and never get close enough to ask for a dance, never mind speak or touch her. They weren't here tonight so Jake turned his attention to his friends.