Post-Human 05 - Inhuman (27 page)

10

“Dear God,” Old-timer said when the replicator came into view at the end of the tunnel. A moment later, they reached the mouth of the tunnel, and the full, awful expanse of the monstrosity started to sink in: a dark, brutal, metal structure that stretched in every direction in perfect geometric lines, endless coffin-shaped pods, adjoined by the ubiquitous catwalks that were a mainstay of android architecture.

“This is it,” Jules announced. “Pretty impressive, I know.”

“Wasn’t the word I was thinking.”

“Oh, right,” Jules replied as she held up her hands and mockingly twitched her fingers as though she were shaking with fear, “this is the evil heart of mechanical darkness,” she said, mimicking a scared child’s voice. “This is pure technological evil.” She shook her head and rolled her eyes. “Ridiculous, Luddite reaction.”

“Luddite?” Old-timer reacted, astonished. “You’re calling
me
a Luddite?” He unfurled one of his tendrils and displayed it to make his point. “You don’t think joining a collective of trillions, all in the name of keeping humanity standing still, is a little more on the Luddite side?”

Jules scoffed, unimpressed. “Your weird worm parts don’t make you advanced, Craig. They make you a freak.”

Old-timer glared at her but kept his composure.

“Come on,” Jules said, dropping the subject, “Let’s get your friends.”

“From where?” Old-timer asked. “It’s endless.”

“If they were uploaded together, they should all be grouped together.”

“They weren’t.” Old-timer held up his assimilator. “In fact, three of them haven’t even been uploaded yet.”

“That’s perfect,” she said, holding out her hand to take the assimilator. “We can upload them now.”

Old-timer refused to hand the device to her.

“Really?” she said, shocked. “You’re in my head. You know I’m not lying.”

He relented and handed her his precious cargo.

“Was that really so hard?” she chided. “Now, tell me the names of your friends who were uploaded already. I’ll find their location and then we’ll make sure we construct them all near one another.”

“Djanet Dove and Daniella Emilson,” Old-timer replied.

“Okay,” Jules replied as she mentally input the names. Old-timer monitored her activity through their mental connection. “They’re here,” Jules replied, “but…”

“But what?”

“It’s not a problem, but you have to understand that there’s billions of people in the replicator pods right now—”

Old-timer sighed as he impatiently sifted through the information in her mental locator. “And they’re seventy kilometers from here,” he observed, sighing when he realized they were still a long way from their prize.

“Yeah.” Jules nodded. “It’ll take a few minutes to get there.”

He grunted in frustration. “Let’s get moving then.” They started to fly into the endless labyrinth of metallic corridors. If they hadn’t had access to Jules’s navigational programs, they’d be lost quickly.

“Patience, Craig,” Jules said, sensing his frustration.

“While we’re heading that way, you might want to check for Aldous Gibson and Rich Borges. I lost contact with them.”

“Sure,” she replied. “Hmm. Now that’s interesting.”

“What?” Old-timer asked, as he pulled her screens over to his own mind’s eye.

“Rich Borges isn’t here, so he hasn’t been assimilated yet, but—”

“Oh my God,” Old-timer whispered. “Am I reading this right?”

“I think so,” Jules confirmed, a bit uncertain herself. “I mean, I’ve never seen this before, but it looks like this Aldous Gibson has already been assimilated, but he was discharged two days ago. He’s not in the pod.” She rubbed her temples. “That’s an anomaly. No one gets discharged that fast. They have to go through the assimilation education program. It doesn’t make sense...”

Old-timer’s face reddened with fury, and his upper lip curled into a snarl. “It makes sense...if the person in question made a deal.”

“A deal? What kind of deal?”

“The sort of deal that involved betraying his whole damned species.”

11

“Chief Gibson, this is Governor Wong, of the Purist colony,” the governor spoke in his deep, gravelly voice, a voice that had been weathered by the ravages of time. Post-humans weren’t used to hearing the wisdom in a voice that had aged to such a degree. The recorded message arrived crackled with interference. “We’re under attack from android forces. We’re defending ourselves with every means available to us. We’ve detected and identified your vessel and will monitor your approach. If you can break through the android blockade, we’ll take control of your vessel and guide you past our planetary force-field. Stand by for further instructions and, Chief Gibson, good luck.”

Rich blinked in near disbelief. “When was that message sent?”

Aldous looked down at the time readout and did some quick calculations. “It took two minutes to reach us,” Aldous replied. “At the speed we’re traveling, Venus and the android blockade should be coming up on our view screen soon.”

“Are we
still
trying to get to Venus?” Rich asked. “You
did
hear him, didn’t you? Under attack? Android forces?”

“I thought you were sworn to protect the Purists?” Aldous replied.

“Yeah,
I
am. But I thought you just wanted to go there to check for post-human survivors. If they’re under attack, why are
you
not in favor of getting as far away from the solar system as possible while the coast is clear?”

“Careful,” James cautioned in Rich’s ear. “You don’t want to tip him off that you’re suspicious.”

“And float through an eternity of space,” Aldous replied to Rich, “hoping beyond all mathematically reasonable hope that we’ll somehow encounter more survivors, all the while knowing that every day that we venture farther into the endlessness of space, the less likely it’ll be that we’ll ever see another human being alive other than each other?”

“It’s a reasonable explanation,” James pointed out. “Just keep an eye on him…and on
us
.”

Rich craned his neck and regarded the hard drive on Aldous’s waist as he considered James’s words. “When you put it that way…okay: break through the android blockade it is then.”

As Rich turned back to the view screen, he suddenly saw the faint image of something surrounding the pale blue glow of the tennis ball-sized planet in the distance. Although Venus was still hundreds of thousands of kilometers away, there was clearly a giant explosion onboard one of the android ships that surrounded it, a pulse of gold, growing like a flower opening its petals.

“My word,” Aldous reacted, surprised and impressed by the sheer size of the explosion.

“Are the Purists actually fighting back?” Rich said, shocked.

“It would seem so,” Aldous replied. “How they’re doing it is another question.”

“I know James gave the planet a force-field,” Rich offered, “but…”

“It looks like he provided them with more than that,” Aldous said with a grimace.

Rich narrowed his eyes at what he perceived to be Aldous actually appearing perturbed that the Purists were able to resist. Or was he just pensively considering the difficulty of maneuvering through the surrounding android ships? It was impossible to tell, and impossible to ask James for his opinion, since their connection was only aural and without his connection to the mainframe, he couldn’t scan him for signs of insincerity.

Aldous gestured to the explosion that was still pluming and getting larger by the second as Venus and the dramatic battle that surrounded it quickly became more clear. “Apparently James has provided them with some sort of military means.”

“No kidding,” Rich replied as a second giant plume erupted from a second vast android vessel. The explosions were still a long way off, but it was almost unfathomable that the Purists, who’d been limited on Earth to weapons that were barely worthy of early twenty-first-century warfare, were managing to stage such a dramatic and effective stand against the android collective. “They’re doing better than we did on Earth. What the hell is that thing they’re shooting at them?”

“It’s a death ray,” James informed Rich. “I’m glad to hear it’s working. It’s a particle beam weapon—the entirety of the natural electrical power of Venus is charging tiny particles, and the Purists are firing them at nearly the speed of light at the androids. That should keep them at bay.”

“Chief Gibson, this is Governor Wong of the Purist Colony,” the gravelly voice spoke again, this time through less interference. “We believe we can create a path for you through the blockade. Follow the coordinates we’re sending to you. We’ll do the rest. Let us take control of your trajectory once you’ve made it past our force-field, and we’ll guide you to the surface.”

Aldous and Rich exchanged shocked expressions before Aldous replied, “Thank you, Governor.”

“We’ll see you on the ground soon. Wong out.”

“They’re taking control of our flight path?” Rich reacted in near disbelief. “The Purists? I thought only the A.I. mainframe could—”

Aldous nodded. “So did I.”

“And create a path for us? With that big mother of a—”

Before Rich could finish his thought, the sea of androids that surrounded the damaged android ships seemed to suddenly part; a domino effect waved them all aside, as though they were a swarm of fruit flies, the invisible force cutting through them like a fly swatter. The power of the force became clear quickly, however, as it whizzed right by their vessel, the force of it so strong that it seemed to create turbulence in space itself.

“Uh...gun?” Rich finished, astonished.

“It is quite clear,” Aldous began, “that the Purists have a few tricks up their sleeves, courtesy of Commander Keats.” He closed his eyes for a moment as he considered this unexpected turn and then bowed his head to look at the small hard drive, still hanging at his waist. “James, what have you been up to?” he asked rhetorically, having no idea that James could, in reality, hear him.

“More than you’re ready for, old man,” James replied anyway, though only Rich was privy to both ends of the repartee.

Rich smiled. “I told you, Chief.”

Aldous turned to him. “Oh?”

“James always thinks of something.”

12

“We’ve almost reached the location of your friends,” Jules informed Old-timer.

“I know,” Old-timer replied. “I’m seeing everything you’re seeing, remember?”

“How could I forget?” Jules returned. “It’s not like I don’t have a splitting headache.”

Old-timer’s only reply was a disinterested grunt; his mind was busy elsewhere.

“You’re a real charmer,” Jules observed. “Anyone ever tell you that? I can’t believe I thought you had game.”

“Why are you helping me?” Old-timer asked.

“What?” Jules responded. “Are you serious? I’m your hostage. You murdered Anisim right before my—”

“That’s bull, and we both know it,” Old-timer cut her off. “I’m not as dumb as you might believe. You live in a ship that replicates android bodies. Your people attack planets, with no regard for their bodily safety. It’s a simple equation. Your mind files are backed up and sent back to the collective if your bodies are damaged or destroyed. So, again, why are you helping me?”

“You mean, why don’t I resist and let you rip my head apart like you did to Anisim?”

“Sure,” Old-timer responded.

“Okay, besides that fact that it would really, really hurt?” Jules reacted, aghast. “How about this? Have you ever thought about the philosophy behind this whole system? The idea that if I destroy my body but if you upload my mind file, that somehow that’s still me? Look, Craig, I know you think we’re all just a bunch of mindless drones—brainwashed followers—but we do have opinions. We do have inner thoughts. I’m not a believer in our system. Most of the collective are believers, but I’m not.”

“What do you believe?” Old-timer asked.

Jules grunted impatiently. “Look, imagine I’m about to be killed on a rescue. My mind file automatically uploads into the replicator and a new body pops out. Great, right? That’s why most androids have no problem taking actions that clearly run contrary to self-preservation or respect for their own mortality.”

“You’re immortals,” Old-timer pointed out. “Why would they be concerned—”

“Because they’re not immortal!” Jules shouted out. “Look, it’s not a popular view, but let’s face it, if I’m about to be killed and my mind file uploads to the replicator, what if something happens? What if, by some miracle, my body survives? The collective’s predictive algorithms are watching me, detecting me, always making sure they know if I’m about to be killed or not, but what if they make a mistake? As far as I know, they never do, but for the sake of argument, hypothetically, let’s say they do. Then what?”

“You’d survive,” Old-timer replied, “and a copy of you would emerge from the replicator.”

Jules widened her eyes. “Yeah. Exactly. A copy.”

“Are your beliefs the reason you’ve never been on a rescue?” Old-timer asked.

“Never been on a rescue? What makes you say that?”

“Anisim said—”

“Right,” Jules nodded, remembering. “He lied.” She shrugged. “I guess he was trying to make you go easy on me. He must’ve felt guilty for leading you straight to me.”

“If you’ve been on rescues,” Old-timer said, putting the pieces of the puzzle together in his mind, “and you believe that the replicated bodies are just copies, then you also—”

“Believe I’m a murderer?” Jules finished for him. “Yeah. I do, but that’s the catch. I understand why the collective does what it does. I even believe in it, because it’s better that humanity and the universe continue to survive. But no, I don’t believe that when my android body dies, I continue on. A copy of me will, with my memories and feelings, and it
will
be a fully formed and functioning person—but it won’t be me. I’ll be dead.”

Old-timer thought through the logic. “Have you…have you—”

“Died on a rescue? Yes, I have. But even if I hadn’t, I was assimilated. My human body was destroyed, and my mind file was uploaded to the collective and replicated, right here in the
Constructor
.” She gestured to the endless body pods that stretched up into the sky, down to an unseen bottom, and 360 degrees around them. “That Jules died. I’m certain of it.”

“If you really believe that, why don’t you fight back?” Old-timer demanded of her. “It can’t just be this absurd, fatalistic pessimism—this belief that humanity will always destroy itself if it isn’t controlled. That’s just 1’s bullshit.”

Jules shook her head. “You’re right. I’ll just take on the whole collective. There are only 1.4 trillion of us at last count. I’m sure I’ll win.”

“If you really believe that, why don’t you just volunteer to take part in another rescue? The you that’s with me now will die and you’ll never have to murder anyone again.”

Jules paused for a moment. “You know, I mean this sincerely, I actually think that’s part of why they do it.”

“Who?”

“The conscripts. That’s what we call them. When we come to a new Earth, people are randomly selected for the mission. The more Earths we assimilate, the lower the chances are that you’ll be conscripted, because it takes the same size force every time, and if the collective grows, the chances they’ll need you plummets. But you never know when it’s your turn. It can be years between rescues…” she drifted off as she seemed to remember something. “You can almost convince yourself it was all just a dream.” She pulled herself back to reality, turning to look Old-timer in the eye. “There are two ways to gain honor and prestige on a rescue for yourself. The first is to rescue—or as you put it, assimilate—a lot of people. The other is to die. The more you’ve died, the more bodies you’ve sacrificed, the more selfless the others in the collective consider you.” She paused again, appearing pensive. “But you know what I think, Craig? I think they do it because they long for oblivion. I think they want a way out. Suicide is illegal, and our patterns continue eternally, but I believe when members of the collective sacrifice themselves, part of it is their death drive. They want to die—because just like you said, I think they want out.”

“What would 1 do if she knew you had these beliefs?”

“Nothing,” Jules replied. “We’re allowed free thought. Our feelings are our own, as long as we don’t act out—”

“Feelings are never wrong,” Old-timer suddenly blurted out, remembering the wisdom Alejandra had imparted on him in what felt like a different life.

“Yeah, that’s right,” Jules replied. “Only actions can be wrong. So, how about you, Craig? What do you think?”

“About what?”

“You cut off Anisim’s head. Are you a murderer?”

Old-timer could barely breathe. He’d thought of the action as being akin to turning off a machine.
What if Jules is right?
he wondered.
Then Daniella is dead…and I’m just reviving a…no
. “No. It’s the pattern that matters,” Old-timer asserted. “The molecules don’t matter.”

“Heh,” Jules replied. “Interesting.” She looked down. “Hang on, we’ve arrived. We’re going to drop.”

The duo suddenly dropped straight down, skimming past a series of catwalks, deeper and deeper down what truly appeared to be a bottomless pit.

“Straight into Hell,” Old-timer whispered to himself.

Jules nearly laughed, but stifled it. “The big H-E-double-hockey sticks, eh? Don’t be so dramatic. It’s just a big factory.”

They landed on a catwalk in front of a black pod, positioned on the outside of a pillar that stretched endlessly both up and down. It appeared to be only one of many thousands of pods on that pillar alone. Old-timer looked at the structure and thought of how easily it dwarfed the Zeus that they’d built on Venus—his days as a terraformer were yet another collection of memories that felt like they were from another life, the distance from his reality so great that it was surreal.

“Admittedly,” Jules added, “it is one big damn factory.” She looked around herself. “And it could be a bit cheerier.”

Old-timer couldn’t take his eyes off the pod. “Who is this?”

Jules opened the screen in her onboard mental computer, and Old-timer read the name in his mind as Jules spoke it aloud. “Daniella Emilson.”

He put his hand out to it and touched the black shell of the pod. “Open it. Open it right now.”

“Okay,” Jules replied, “I’m going to assume asking for a ‘please’ would be a wasted effort.”

The door slid to the side, tucking inside the pillar, revealing Daniella’s unconscious body. She was standing, dressed in the same black garb as every other new android. Her new body was a perfect re-creation of her human form—at least from the outside.

“Wake her,” Old-timer said, unable to contain his emotion as he began to choke back tears.

Jules turned to him, surprised to see a man that she’d regarded as unreasonably rough in his demeanor actually moved to tears. She instantly realized the reason. “She’s your wife.”

“Yes,” Old-timer nodded. “Wake her, please.”

Jules’s head jolted back ever so slightly with surprise when she heard Old-timer’s words. “There it is,” she said, as she input the wake command. “The magic word.”

Daniella opened her eyes.

“Craig?”

“Oh thank God!” Old-timer exclaimed. He instantly reached out for his wife and took her into his arms, pulling her out of the pod and holding her tight, rocking her back and forth as he held her body, her feet dangling several inches above the catwalk.

“Craig? Where am I? Was I...assimilated?” Daniella asked, her voice weak as she remained shocked by her new surroundings.

“You were, baby. You were, but you’re okay. I got you now.”

“You ready for me to bring your other friends back?” Jules asked, interrupting the happy reunion.

Old-timer looked her in the eye, his expression one of gratitude. “Yes. Yes please.”

“Wow,” Jules replied. “Magic words all over the place.” She uploaded the patterns into the collective. “And in return, I’ll work a little magic for you.”

“Craig, who is she?” Daniella asked in Old-timer’s ear.

“She’s here to help. She’s a friend. Don’t worry. I’m going to get us out of here.”