The Recall Man
May 3, 2025
The recall chip buzzed inside Agent Corin Vex’s skull as he stepped into the alley behind Level 9 Tower. The smell of rust and ozone hung thick, and somewhere, above the neon haze, the corporate drones still hummed through the night.
His comm crackled.
“You’re close. Subject should be within ten meters.”
Corin tapped his temple. “Got it. Sending in the override.”
He approached a hunched figure kneeling by a trash unit. She wore a tattered coat, hood up, one mechanical eye flickering red.
“Aila Morn,” he said, voice sharp. “You’ve triggered your recall clause. Time to go home.”
The woman didn’t flinch. “I’m not property anymore.”
“You signed the contract,” Corin replied, holding up his wrist. The embedded screen showed her biometric ID. “And the clause is clear. Any mental deviation, defection, or memory corruption invokes recall authority.”
“I didn’t defect,” she muttered. “I remembered.”
Corin paused. “That’s not possible. Memory syncs are wiped at mission end.”
“Yours are,” Aila said, standing slowly. “Mine weren’t.”
Her cybernetic eye adjusted and locked onto him. “You don’t remember what they made us do, do you?”
Ten years ago, humanity outsourced security to biotech megacorps. Memory-alteration became standard for agents — recallable, programmable, disposable. Corin had executed 37 recalls. Never once failed.
He stepped forward. “You’re unstable, Aila. Let’s get you reset.”
“I’m not broken,” she said. “I’m awake.”
From her coat, she pulled a chip — gleaming black, not company-issued. “This has our real history.”
“Give it to me.”
“I want you to see it.”
Before he could protest, she flicked it at him. Reflexively, Corin caught it. The moment he touched the surface, something clicked in his mind — like unlocking a drawer he never knew existed.
Flashes.
Screams. Burning. Children. Experiments. Neural tests.
“Subject 12 failed.”
“Wipe the agents. Again.”
He staggered back.
Aila nodded. “Now you get it.”
“Why didn’t I remember?”
“Because you were better than me at obeying. At forgetting.”
Corin’s hands shook. “We… we incinerated people. Civilians.”
“We were told they were terrorists. Rebels. They weren’t. They were test groups. Failures.”
Corin looked down at the chip. “If this is real… why haven’t you exposed them?”
“Because no one listens to ex-agents. They call us corrupted. Glitches in the system.”
Corin’s comm crackled again.
“Agent Vex, status update?”
He muted it.
“They’ll be here soon,” Aila warned. “You know protocol. If you don’t complete the recall, you’ll be next.”
Corin pocketed the chip. “How did you override your implant?”
“I didn’t,” she said. “Someone else did.”
His eyes narrowed. “Who?”
She hesitated. “There’s a splinter group. Rogue engineers. They call themselves The Patchers. They unchain agents. Give us our memories back.”
“And what do they want?”
“To burn it all down. The corps. The tech. The system.”
Corin thought of the lives he’d erased. The missions that didn’t make sense. The headaches. The gaps. “Where are they?”
“I can take you.”
A drone whirred overhead. Corin swore. “Too late. They’ve locked on to my signal.”
Aila grabbed his wrist. “Then let’s make it count.”
They ran.
Ten blocks away, deep inside an abandoned data center, Aila activated a retinal scanner behind a decaying vending machine.
“Biometric match: Aila Morn. Welcome.”
A hatch opened. They slipped inside.
Dozens of people — augmented, scarred, alive — turned toward them. At the center stood a gaunt man with gold circuitry under his skin.
“You brought the Recall Man,” he said.
Corin blinked. “How do you know me?”
The man smiled. “You killed my brother. Recall number 17.”
A tense silence.
“I’m not the same person,” Corin said.
“Neither was he,” the man replied. “But you can make amends.”
Aila handed him the black chip. “We have truth. We just need a signal.”
The Patchers wired the chip into an uplink node connected to ancient satellites no longer monitored. Outside, corp drones were converging.
“Once this goes out, they’ll scrub this place clean,” Aila warned.
Corin looked at the transmission button. “But if we don’t send it, it all stays buried.”
“Your choice,” said the gaunt man. “Still an agent — or finally a human?”
Corin pressed the button.
TRANSMISSION SENT: FULL FILE DUMP TO GLOBAL OPEN NET
CONTENT: CLASSIFIED CORP FILES
STATUS: UNSTOPPABLE
Sirens wailed outside. Ground shook.
“You two,” the gaunt man pointed. “Out the south exit. We’ll hold them.”
“You’ll be slaughtered,” Corin said.
“Maybe. But it’ll be worth it.”
They ran again.
By the time they reached the river bridge, TitanCorp command stations across the globe were erupting with scandal. Newsfeeds, darknets, and public streams lit up.
The truth was out.
Corin and Aila stood in silence as the first corp tower in the distance exploded.
Aila turned to him. “Now what?”
Corin smiled grimly. “We find the others. And we wake them up.”