Tuning Into a Ghost Channel

By the time we reached the hospital, Noah had already begun to nod off to sleep, so Axel allowed him to rest inside the car while the two of us resumed our investigations. It’d be more comfortable to nap inside the hospital, but knowing what happened to Celia, they couldn’t be trusted anymore. So, Axel offered the boy his coat for warmth and gave me a mask and shades to hide my face before I joined him inside the hospital. I tugged my hood over my head, keeping my chin low as we walked past android attendants and hustling nurses.

“You think the security footage has been tampered with?” I asked.

“Absolutely,” said Axel. “I couldn’t find any traces of Celia’s disappearance even though drones and cameras constantly monitored the hallways.”

“What did the staff say about it?”

He shrugged. “‘Poor internet connection’ made it freeze right at the same time she went missing.” He balled his fists and furrowed his brows. “It was the same situation for that boy too… I don’t get it. Why was he different from her?”

“Who?”

Unexpectedly, Axel cast a look my way—one of sadness and guilt. It was that same knowing expression I’d seen countless times before, but this time, it was laced with pain and regret. Once again, he shrugged it off. “Even if I tell you, you won’t know or care about him. Not yet, at least.”

“So, he’s irrelevant?”

He grunted, not denying nor admitting it. Full of mysteries, this guy.

⫿⫼⟁⫼⫿

All it took was flaunting the detective’s police badge to persuade the security office to send the camera footage through his terminal. Even then, it was the same footage he had already received months earlier.

Of course, while Axel discussed with the security guards, my wires “accidentally” toyed with their monitors right behind their backs. Once I collected all I could, I gave Axel a nod, and he concluded their talk. We returned to his car right away, taking our conversation outside to avoid disturbing the kid.

It turned out the footage had been tampered with, though whether the guards were involved remained up for debate. This also raised the question of how much influence Biowidth Station held over the hospital, and Axel feared that, like with the museum and the motel, the manager might be involved as well. Considering the patterns so far, he made a point.

If the hospital's head manager was indeed in cahoots with Biowidth Station, then we should investigate his office next. Obviously, confronting him would create certain conflicts, so we had to resort to other measures.

And by other measures, I meant luring him out of his office—legally, unfortunately. Axel didn’t like the idea of me blowing up a section of the hospital to create a distraction, so we faked a phone call instead. How boring.

Nevertheless, after my X-ray vision confirmed that he left his office, I hovered toward his floor, lifting Axel by the scruff of his shirt and tossing him through the window. I slid in next, going straight to the monitor while Axel locked the doors and switched off the lights. He dug around the file cabinets, not all that surprised to find some typical hospital-related documents.

I, on the other hand, had to deal with bypassing a crap ton of encrypted files, my stomach churning the more I open them. One file stood out from the rest—the very file we’d been after. Except, the more I read the contents, the more my head throbbed and my chest pounded to the point I swore I could vomit at any moment.

“A-Axel,” I stammered, my voice quivering. “D-Did you know…? This whole time? Did you know… that I was…”

“What?” He turned around while I expanded a tab out of the computer screen, hovering it between us.

“Memory Recollection Entry Log #100:

It’s been a century since the U.S. government assigned me to develop secret weapons during the Cold War. I assumed they chose me because I, a prodigy, had the right amount of ambition they were looking for.

I made no progress at first, but in 1954, a meteorite crashed in Alabama. After the government handed over a fragment for me to study, I discovered something… extraordinary. It wasn’t extraterrestrial life, but some sort of microscopic, self-replicating machine. It wasn't like anything humanity had seen before, so I got to work immediately.

I first created a serum from this substance and tested it on some rats, but when nothing happened, I tried it on fresh human bodies. It was only by pure accident that a child's corpse, exposed to frequencies from my radio delivering news broadcasts, suddenly twitched. The corpse miraculously awakened and became a robot, mimicking the child’s behavior but completely devoid of memories. I decided to name it Cogsworth.

I eventually realized the electromagnetic waves had activated the substance, causing a transformation from biological matter to synthetic materials like advanced alloys, carbon fiber, and silicon-based components. So, I decided to call them Neuronites. This discovery… this was all done by me. I changed the world.

The fact that it could transform man into machine was the perfect excuse for the government to build me a radio tower right here at Nexus Pratum, granting me a constant variable and allowing me to broadcast electromagnetic pulses across all my test subjects. I began to test living humans not long later, learning that these Neuronites remain hidden under standard scanners and stay primarily dormant. Those tested inside my radio tower, exposed to heavy radio frequencies, became androids while those outside remained human, though both would suffer from memory loss and other side effects.

At some point, I began hearing noises I didn’t make. In fact, I believe these sounds only exist in my mind… Was this what people called ‘phantom frequencies?’ I wasn’t sure what caused it, but these noises prompted me to inject myself with the serum. Surprisingly, the Neuronites reacted even though I didn’t activate my radios. This allowed me to achieve another breakthrough: the ability to extend my consciousness into a hivemind with those I shared my blood with, though it'd only apply to deceased subjects. Those still alive would be immune, which would make no difference to their original purpose as my test subjects.

Thus, I managed to split my consciousness into mindless androids—lesser versions of me serving as my assistants—but the more I split my mind, the more my memory fractured. It’s inconvenient, but these yearly entry logs serve to piece myself together.

However, as the world became engrossed with Cogsworth, the Cold War ended before I discovered more breakthroughs. Without the need for my experiments, the government shut it down.

But in the name of science—in the name of truth, discovery, and the boundless pursuit of knowledge—I couldn’t stop. I knew this substance could achieve so much more, yet I could not continue my experiments when the world had its eyes on me.

That was why I intentionally leaked my research to other engineering companies. Let them get the fame. Let them take credit for starting the first wave of AI citizens, and let my name rest in history. That way, no one will realize I'm still alive.

Biowidth Station… That’s the name I decided to continue my experiments under. Over the decades, I researched more about Neuronites. I linked more fragments of my will to lesser androids and selected a few to host my main memories—the CEO of Nexus Pratum History Museum, the scientist at my main station, and me. All shall continue to monitor and gather more test subjects and control what the public will know about world history. My subjects will be those close to death—so no one will be surprised if they die.

After all these years, I have yet to discover Neuronites' full potential. All my subjects continue to suffer irreversible side effects—and not to mention, one of my most recent test subjects failed to fully transform into an android and even failed as my subordinate. After working for me for almost a year, his emotions became too unstable for continued use.

...However, witnessing such raw emotions unexpectedly granted me self-awareness.

Writing this now, I've finally realized I've lost my humanity since I heard those 'voices.' Furthermore, I, too, have forgotten my former self prior to this project. Perhaps this was a hidden price I had to pay, and to be frank with you, Radio, I'm getting tired of it all after a hundred years of repetitive results. Therefore, I'll be preparing for your final test at my radio tower.

Your 'creator' and director,

Doctor Orson Flint.”

I clutched my head, questions clogged up my throat.

Why didn't I realize it sooner?

My right circular eye, my emotions, my mistakes, my attitude, my “organic materials,” my nonexistent serial number, my bruises, my thoughts, my tears, my pounding chest… my rapid, unstable breathing… my panic attack…

They were all proof… that I was once a normal human.