Authors: Jonathan Davison
Sarazen grasped the small vessel of thick, viscous liquid and placed the rim to his lips. Keera keenly watched her companion enjoy another sustaining supplement.
“
Ah. Delightful.” Sarazen complemented Keera's skill in providing a satisfying formula.
“
Now I must go,” h
e said, as he rose to his feet. The screen’s images ceased and Keera walked with him to the living space door.
“
Have a good day at work, Sarazen,” she cooed, as he rewarded her good wishes with a warm smile. The door glided open and closed with an effortless hum and Sarazen was gone leaving Keera alone in her thoughts.
“
Now, dust, dust, must clean the dust.” She sang as she shuffled to the cupboard to begin her toils without a care in the world.
CHAPTER 2
Sarazen left the tall building containing several hundred living spaces including his own and stood for a moment to take in the chaotic hustle and bustle as other silicants joined him on the journey to their work destinations. Sarazen was a peculiar example of a silicant. His moments of contemplation were generally not shared by the others as they quietly filed out of their homes and on to the fast and regular transit services which traversed the city. If anything, his fleeting ponderous episodes would mean that he stopped the well ordered flow of bodies and a small fractious jam would occur. Several “excuse me, Sirs” later and Sarazen would look round to realise his daydreaming had caused a kerfuffle and apologised profusely.
The transit system was a railed network which had sole use of the long and angular thoroughfares between the various buildings and structures. These structures were varied in their design and groups of 'constructors’ were always seen at work renovating the more archaic examples and transforming them into modern, efficient living spaces for the ever increasing population of silicants. It seemed that as fast as the organics proliferated, more silicants were cast to maintain their role in their upkeep.
Sarazen sat on the first seat behind the operator and often enjoyed watching from a driver’s eye view the oncoming scenery of his speeding carriage. It had often occurred to Sarazen that the operator’s functions were so minimal that they were almost surplus to requirement, however there was something reassuring about the presence of the courteous individual who would greet each passenger so heartily. Sarazen's work place was far across the city and it frustrated him that his living space was so inefficiently situated. Living spaces were allocated at renewal and rarely altered after initial installation. The protracted journey did offer more compelling visual stimulus, however and Sarazen would gaze through the window and remind himself of the ever changing world of the organics. Sarazen's favourite place on the route to work was a section of natural landscape between conurbations that had been keenly colonised by slow growing, static hulks known as ’seters’. This place did not have a name. Geographical locations were always identified by numerical references. The silicants knew this place to be 128,63:134,28 although this terminology was perhaps too precise for such a wild and primitive place. Sarazen decided that a more suitable name would be ’the Middle’, as it lay in between his suburban home and his city workplace. This kind of creative expression was unprecedented for the average silicant. Sarazen knew he was different in some respects to others he encountered. He did not go around sharing his dreamy preponderances, it was a personal thing and if anything, he regarded it as a possible flaw in his design and kept it close to his chest.
In ‘the middle’, the seters dominated the terrain as they spread over the red brown earthy expanse basking in the light from the blazing Star. From the helplessly immobile seters, a microcosm of smaller organics thrived by gorging themselves upon the seters’ coveted circulatory fluids. Most of the organics were microscopically small and unremarkable, but there were many that were larger, animated and entertaining to observe. They were noisy, playful, unpredictable and sometimes wilfully destructive units. They often joined with others in conflict then performed acts of great submission and cooperation. The most advanced of them dwelt in a primitive community where, like the silicants, each had differing properties often in the pursuit of a single goal. The most startling aspect of organic life which was difficult to comprehend, was their requirements for sustainability. The organics naturally fed on each other in order to sustain themselves. It seemed a particularly confounding way to exist, to Sarazen, as he tried to imagine a world where silicants were forced to do the same but the concept was beyond the scope of his experience. Beyond the seters, lay the high ground where only a few silicants dwelt. This was the realm of the farmers who were at the cutting edge amongst the silicant population. If there was to be a career to aspire to after the renewal then that was it. It could surely not be more satisfying to directly carry out the primary command function. Of course, Sarazen knew that in his duties, he was part of this most important task and each individual had their own unique importance and contribution, but none more profound than the farmers themselves.
Sarazen alighted the carriage a short walk from his work place, a large, airy glass fronted building. On entering the impressive lobby, it was courteous to greet the administrator who sat at a large imposing terminal with which she was intrinsically attached by a multitude of feeds which penetrated her abdomen in several ergonomically positioned places.
“
Hello Sarazen,” s
he said, as she remained motionless, distracted by the millions of bytes of information which passed through her slight frame.
“
Hello Zuhir,
” Sarazen replied politely, as he made his way to the elevation platform. On the platform, a constructor knelt prodding away at the control panel. Sarazen approached tentatively.
“
Go ahead Sir, I have restored functionality.” The jovial constructor ushered Sarazen on to the platform.
“
Damn things!” Sarazen japed, sympathising with his efforts, although taking the constructor a little by surprise by his colourful choice of language.
“
Yes Sir. Organic infestation. We are experiencing more and more with every cycle. Problematic to remove them without termination.” Sarazen nodded in mild surprise as it never occurred to him before that the organics could pose such troublesome issues. Most of the organics were terribly frail and feeble units. It was often impossible to avoid accidental termination. It suddenly crossed Sarazen's mind what the consequences would be of wilful organic termination? No silicant could ever knowingly disregard the primary command function but silicants malfunctioned from time to time, rarely of course, but then if they did not, then Sarazen would not be required. What would happen if a malfunction led to negligent termination of organics? Sarazen pondered. This was something he would have to download during the downtime. The Mother generally had a way of answering his queries and allaying his fears. At the advent of the next light phase, Sarazen would awake and he would somehow feel more fulfilled and content. The Mother could make everything simple and straightforward again; it was the elixir of satisfaction that every silicant could rely on.
Sarazen's station was on the third floor and his office comprised of a small number of fellow troubleshooters, administrators and an overseer. The overseer was called Pagus and his room was situated just past the 'theatre' where silicants could be examined and adjusted if required. Sarazen always made a point of greeting Pagus on his arrival. He enjoyed his relationship with his overseer, there was little to separate them in age but Pagus's position as overseer meant that he naturally held the more authoritative post. It really mattered little as Sarazen was conscientious and exacting in his duties and left little for the overseer to do except distribute jobs and file reports on individuals that required further service or renewal.
“
Hello Sarazen. You will find this cycle's agenda at your terminal.” Pagus said as a matter of habit. The cyclical ritual never changed.
“
Hello Sir. Thank you. I trust Belya is fine and content?” Sarazen asked after his overseer's companion with whom he had met on occasions on the rest cycle.
“
She is indeed.” Pagus replied, safe in the knowledge that his companion was at home sanitising. The overseers were smartly constructed individuals. They naturally exuded confidence and were always imposing. Despite the light nature of the conversation, the sound of an overseer's vocal output always brought about hyper-flux and a sense of urgency in the carrying out of the individual’s duties. Sarazen bid Pagus farewell and went about accessing his terminal to see what he had lined up for the remaining work cycle. Sarazen gently pulled the terminal feed out of the network node and attached it to his data port. It need only be attached fleetingly as the information download was momentary. Sarazen's first assignment was an intriguing one. A farmer with a possible data port malfunction. This was usually a hardware issue that could seldom be rectified. A faulty data port was always unacceptable and loss of integrity of The Mother's feed was viewed as a catastrophic failure which could lead to corruption of data flow on more than just a localised scale. This was about as bad as it got and Sarazen had been given a priority red assignment to travel to the farmer's residence to assist at the soonest possible juncture.
Sarazen pulled his terminal feed and headed straight out of the office only to be called back by Pagus.
“
Sarazen. Regarding the priority red, The Mother has requested full disclosure. Do a good job, yes?” Pagus spoke with an intolerably serious tone that made Sarazen suddenly aware that this was no ordinary job.
“
Yes Sir, a
lways.” Sarazen nodded respectfully and shuffled out of the office and on to the elevation platform which offered its services but with an unnerving shudder. Sarazen arched his head back and stretched his neck. The priority red call was not out of the ordinary but The Mother's direct involvement was quite extraordinary. It only served to heighten Sarazen's wish to do well in his duties and propelled him along at a brisk walk out of the lobby and to the nearest transit station.
This assignment would take Sarazen out into the high ground beyond the shining pinnacles of the city and into the realm of the organics. It was not the first time Sarazen had crossed this wild and rugged frontier, but with every previous incident, enough time had passed to make each episode sufficiently different to the last causing a noticeable caution in Sarazen's approach. The organics’ habitat was in a constant state of flux, individual species were changing over time to adapt to their new environments. More and more seters would flourish cycle upon cycle and their reach grew far and wide. It would not be too long before even the city would be swallowed up by the burgeoning mass and then what? The very subjects of the silicants’ devoted guardianship could unwittingly drive them from their homes.
The ground beneath the silicants’ feet often moved in shuddering tremors and this would bring chaos to previously calm and contented organics who would scurry away into their dens or throw their extremities into the air in a primitive rage. The silicants were seldom troubled by the quakes but they brought out an instinctive fear in the organics which was difficult to quantify. It was difficult to protect something which could not be understood. Sarazen spent many a journey processing the endless paradox. Perhaps the farmers were designed to have a better understanding of the organics they cultivated. After all, Sarazen was not meant to understand such things; he was just a troubleshooter after all.
CHAPTER 3
The transit carriage sped through the barren, dusty terrain towards the high ground. The carriage was empty bar the operator and Sarazen who keenly sat upright on the front seat scanning the environment. Seters sporadically graced the land wherever the volatile 'corrosive' flowed. Silicants took care to avoid building their homes in these places. The corrosive was seemingly harmless initially but inevitably destructive. It was difficult to manipulate and wherever it settled, the organics proliferated. Perhaps another reason why the silicants did not settle closely to the organics? Sarazen's train of thought was briefly broken as a dark, fleeting shadow raced across the path of the carriage and there was a sudden jarring thud. Sarazen sat bolt upright and looked around in confusion attempting to digest what happened.
“
Operator, what was that?” He asked leaning forward to the impassive driver.
“
We struck an organic, Sir. Nothing to concern yourself over. It is a common occurrence, could not be avoided, Sir.” The operator droned as if it were not the first time he had spoke those words.
“
Did the organic cease to function?” Sarazen inquired further, knowing in reality, the operator could not possibly know the answer. Such illogical thought patterns were a trait which was best left concealed in company and the troubleshooter shook his head in mild disgust at his ignorance.
“
Sorry Sir. I cannot compute that query; however, the mass of this carriage combined with its velocity would no doubt cause major structural damage to organic tissue...” The operator paused before finishing his sentence.
“
...I hope not Sir.” The operator said in a subdued tone. The silicants’ most important directive was the protection of organic life. Sarazen was not programmed to compute the consequential aspects and nuances of witnessing its termination. It did not seem to faze the operator who continued dutifully with his function however, Sarazen could not remove the image and the sound from his memory. He relived the moment over and over in order to find some sense from it but he could not. Eventually the slowing carriage jolted him out of his recurring conundrum and he looked around him to see the blur of the passing seters as he felt the incline of the track increase markedly. Sarazen sat back and hoped that The Mother would again douse the fire of confusion in the forthcoming down time. It did not compute that the primary command had obviously been transgressed and no consequence had arisen. The organic could not have survived the impact; indeed, the liquid tissues had stained the transparent frontage of the fast moving carriage. Deeper thought only brought about more paradox and Sarazen could feel himself begin to lose clarity of thought as a cycle of doubt and negativity began to feedback on itself causing him to utter a muted noise in apparent distress. What was the distinction between accidental and wilful termination? The primary command was not open to interpretation. It did not have clauses or sub commands, it was black and white. If the organic did indeed cease to function then was the operator not in breach of his primary command? Was Sarazen himself not also culpable as it was his presence on board the carriage which defined the precise speed and location of the carriage when the organic was struck? Was the operator to face consequential action regarding the failure to comply? What was the consequence of non compliance? Why was Sarazen even computing in this way? The endless permutations of the witnessed event began to overload Sarazen's computational core and his temperature began to reach potentially dangerous levels. It was fortunate then that the carriage’s sudden stop at the destination lurched Sarazen from his mental torture and he alighted being sure to look lingeringly at the macabre red mark on the front left of the carriage.