Dyad revs her engine. “No hostiles detected,” she says. Out loud. For my benefit, I think. She still has her link with Tonick. They don’t have to let me in on the plan. I can’t possibly be much help now anyway.
“Confirmed,” he says. “Jin, put your face against my back.” His fingers graze my thigh. “You might get hurt.” Instead, I peek around him at the screen.
Dyad’s avatar leans forward, headfirst. Her gaze narrows, and one corner of her mouth pinches. “We don’t have much time.”
She reminds me of a Bullmech about to charge. A red light flashes at the top right of her screen. “Target acquired.” The avatar makes eye contact with me. “Get back, Jin.”
Then it hits me. I know what they’re about to do. It’s risky as hell. It might not work. The building shakes. The vibrations roll up through Dyad’s wheels and through my body. Even larger chunks fall and explode on the floor around us, creating a gauntlet we have to survive. It’ll require a smartbike and an android to traverse. Another metal strand snaps and pummels the shaft again. “We have to get out of here.” My whimper echoes up the chamber.
Tonick squeezes my thigh, then settles his hands on Dyad’s handles. The straps tighten around our legs. “Stay down,” Tonick says over his shoulder. I press my cheek against his back.
In my periphery, a bright orange flare explodes into the shaft above us several stories up and rockets down toward us. “Explosion. Dammit.” I bang on Tonick’s back. The inferno already warms the back of my neck.
Tonick twists to his left and looks up. His circuits flash in his cheek as a nanosecond stretches into an eternity. Calculations flicker across his face.
If the stream of flames hits us, we’re as good as dead. A series of images clicks through my brain. Tonick and Dyad melted together in a contorted mass of mechanicals with my bones draped over them. I squeeze his middle, frantic now, pressing into him. “Go. Or we’re dead.”
Tonick flattens over Dyad, keeping his chin up. I move with him, making our profile as low as I can. He pinches my arms between his torso and his legs. “I don’t want to lose you.”
He nods and Dyad’s rear tire starts squealing, hopping over the top of the metal beneath us. The smell of burning rubber singes my nose. I settle my feet on the rear passenger pegs.
A whir sounds, and Dyad shudders. Four projectiles about the size of my thumb launch from the vertical bars of her front suspension, hurtling toward the glass fortress that closes us in. I can’t tell if it’s the building or Dyad, but she shoots forward. We’re racing the four flying spheres toward the barrier.
No exit. No problem.
We zigzag across the marble, her tires squealing as we avoid successively larger and larger chunks of the crumbling GenCor building. I grunt with each correction. The straps bite into my thighs and legs. Tonick leans with each direction change, intuiting each movement. He keeps me tight against him.
As we near the edge of the level, Dyad settles into a crouch. “Here we go.”
I expect her to slow. Expect to stop. Oh. “Uh, uh, s-she’s—”
Tonick doesn’t turn around, and Dyad speeds up. My heart pounds. Her RPMs ramp up, and so do mine. And then I’m gasping. It’s hard to breathe. Smoke from the fire above us or hysterics; I can’t tell.
We launch from the edge, a trio in flight. Her rear tire loses all friction, and the engine issues a high-pitched whine. Beneath us, she vibrates. My stomach rolls in my middle. I bite down on the scream that needs out, forcing it back down into my lungs. An orange pulse shield flickers and forms around us as we plummet through the air. Moments morph into ages. The fireball explodes out of the shaft where we were only seconds ago.
We sail over the corporate foyer loft meant to impress—clean lines and an excess of typical GenCor waste of space. The opposite of everything in the UnderCity.
Dyad’s four projectiles lodge themselves in a concrete strip that’s almost completely covered by thick, riveted metal that surrounds the exit. At equidistant positions around our only way out, the tiny munitions burrow into the material. They’re beeping and flashing, their whine increasing in pitch.
Explosives. Tonick stocked her with bombs.
Dyad’s wheels lock as we come down on the landing, halting our movement and throwing me sideways. I get an inverted glimpse of Dyad’s avatar while she bites her nails. That can’t be good. The straps are the only thing that keeps me aboard, but I pitch to the side, screaming, grasping for something, anything that I can use to right myself.
“Jin,” Tonick bellows. He straightens and then grabs my shirt. He heaves me back into place. The front rips from the force. “Duck,” he says. I try to shrink myself so that all of me fits behind him.
Staccato beeps blare in the room. Evacuation instructions fill the air. The boom echoes through the lobby. The high-decibel, low-bass concussion vibrates my head and knocks the air from my lungs. I can’t hear anything but my racing pulse. The shield winks but doesn’t lose power.
Hot bits of shrapnel hit my hands and bounce away. I’m glad my face is hidden. If it wasn’t for the energy shield, the explosion would have pushed us backward off the stairs. The smoke clears to reveal that the obstruction is gone from our path. The smog rushes in. I can taste the metal in the air.
“Go, go, go.” Tonick leans forward, and I follow.
“Go, go, go.” I echo his chant. He’s panicking. He never panics. My heartbeat races, thundering in my ears.
Dyad’s rear tire starts spinning. “Hold on,” she says. The avatar grits her teeth and leans forward. Then we’re off again. Dyad crashes through the railing that surrounds the stairs, and we’re free-falling the remainder of the way to the ground. Glass and metal rain down around us, reflecting the blinking lights like red and blue cascading stars. For a nanosecond, it’s beautiful.
Behind us, the second floor breaks in two, either side lifting up to expose the collapsing shaft; the stairs twist away from their anchors. Metal rips and concrete shatters. I know we have only one more breath before we’ll be crushed beneath the establishment.
We land just short of the new exit, but Dyad doesn’t slow down. I don’t know how we stay upright as we plough through the rubble. The number of calculations must be astronomic.
At the street, Dyad downshifts, and Tonick leans to the right. We bolt down the street, leaving swirls of smoke and smog in our wake.
We blow past the Mag Mile, and a crowd of UnderDwellers is huddled at the end of it. The end is where they all go to die, strung out on Circumstance. Twenty heads lift and turn to watch us as we pass by, too clouded by chemicals to do anything more.
We blow past them, dodging the expired UnderDwellers littering the pavement, collecting at the end of the line, waiting for the mercy of death. I close my eyes against the demoralized and vow that I’ll find some way to help them rise up once more.
We’re too far gone to hear the final crash of the fallen building, but I’m sure I can hear the march of GenCor’s armies coming after us.
GenCor Invisi-Communique
***Begin***
RE: AI - 06042000, AKA “Tonick”
Disappeared.
RE: Test Subject, Jin
Disappeared.
***End***
Chapter Seventeen
LOCUS: ALTER EARTH
The Barren
Date: 13 Pentian
Time: 1400
IT’S BEEN SIX HOURS. Bostgo is a dark smudge on the horizon, indistinguishable from the arid waste that surrounds us. The horror is behind the horizon. I’ll feel safer once it’s out of the rearview. They were almost successful in my reprogramming.
Too close. Too close a call.
The smog layer is thinner than I’ve ever seen it, but we’re not in the beauty we imagined. The sun beats down on our trio as we travel across a barren expanse. Dyad’s avatar did a little jump on the screen once we made it out of the city, but she hasn’t said anything since.
The city is off-limits to us now. The r
oad we’re following is cracked and broken, destroyed by years of disuse, a lone path through the desert. We don’t know what waits at the end.
I hadn’t expected such...nothingness...to surround us. It’s almost as if the world around Bostgo burned in some unknown war, poisoned by napalm malice. Water doesn’t exist. No pipes or infrastructure. Only wits. And I’m still not sure I’ve got all mine back from the attempted wipe.
Stars lead the way to a brave new day.
“Brave New Day” was the file name of an idea I found when I retreated from Wiskee’s attack. It contained a backup me and a map that I hope is still good. Placed in my memory banks by the old man, half crazed and smelling of death rot, he buried it deep enough that GenCor didn’t find it.
He left files behind for both of us. “Brave New Day” for me. “Stars” for her. But I don’t know what’s in her file. It’s not mine to view. When it’s all over, I’m supposed to show it to her. But when is everything all over?
I know some things now. Things I didn’t know before. Processing.
While I fought the reprogramming, “Brave New Day” surfaced as a kind of instinct. I don’t know how he got it in my head, but it’s our best chance at safety. I have to believe he did it. Not her. Not Maria Stella. Splicer of genes and twister of natural things.
Jin taps my front. “My butt is numb,” she says. “And I can’t feel my toes.” She shifts. We’re going so fast, that bit of movement makes the bike wobble.
Dyad rolls her eyes and then corrects for Jin’s movement.
I lean forward, prepared to urge Dyad along. She can’t stop. We don’t have time. They’ll send an army to get Jin back. They want her cells. They want her blood.
They want to build an army of self-healing artificials. They want to rule the world.
“We’re almost there. Only an hour left.” I would feel better if we were there. Jin might be biological, but she’s a Pink. She can go a little longer.
Jin pulls on my middle; her fingertips move across the burned gashes in my dermis. “Stop. I have to stop.”
The sensation of her touch is different from my skin to my metal. Soft to hard, warm to cold.
Trust her. Dyad decelerates. She needs to stop. She’s dehydrated. The bike says the words in my head, and her avatar crosses her arms. If I have to, I can tag her with a sedative.
She might run. I don’t know how she’s taken the news that I’m not a human. It’s a punch to the gut. Jin could hate what I am.
She won’t run. Dyad counters my worry. As long as you stop for her needs. Don’t make her feel trapped.
It’s a lot for her. Wiskee. GenCor. I study the gashes in my arm. Me. Not even Dyad can be sure of Jin’s reaction to her new life.
I grimace. I don’t want it to go that way. It shouldn’t have to, but I scan the empty landscape beside us. Fine. It’ll be easy to catch her out here. Small shrubs stand against the overpowering sun.
“When I feel like we’re safe,” I say. There’s no place for her to hide, but I can’t outvote both of them.
“I think I can feel my skin peeling away from my cheeks,” Jin yells. “My throat is dry. If you don’t stop, my face is going to be as skinless as yours.” She hits my shoulder.
I’m not sure how to take her joke. It seems forced. She’s trying to be normal when things aren’t normal at all. I don’t answer, but Dyad giggles in my head. A lot of my camo functions meant to make people believe I’m a human have switched off, and I haven’t bothered switching them back on. Why bother?
I glance over my shoulder. The only human I care about already knows.
I wonder if she’s noticed that part yet. I wish I could tell if the breaks in my skin bother her. She has to know it doesn’t change my insides. My programming still belongs to her. I could ask, but I’m afraid of what she might tell me. Once we get to where we’re going, I’ll reskin myself. Maybe she’ll forget I’m not human.
We’re safe now. Dyad slows even more.
Argumentative bike.
I heard that.
Get out of my head.
Dyad’s avatar shrugs. They’re not chasing us. Nothing’s on the sensors. We’re stopping.
None of that eases my concern. The Pinks are almost gone. They won’t let Jin go easily. She’s special. She’s integral to their plan. The longer they wait to give chase, the bigger the army they’ll bring.
Dyad and I could go until we reached the destination. “I think we can rest here for a bit.”
As soon as we stop, Jin’s off the bike, groaning and stretching. I turn around while she relieves herself. When she’s done, she hobbles back and forth until her legs start working like normal. Then she stops midlunge and gasps at something nearby.
“What is it?” I spin around to study the gray horizon back toward Bostgo, expecting to see an army of Wiskees crawling our way. I can’t see anything but a few short shrubs, baked to a brown in the overpowering sun.
Jin squints at the bare dirt nearby. “I’m not sure.” She jogs away from the highway and bends down. When she reaches beneath the shade of one of the taller shrubs, her face softens. She studies something.
I grab the canteen from Dyad’s storage compartment and then ease her over on her kickstand. Anything out there?
Nothing, she answers.
Shock?
The avatar shakes her head. Vitals don’t support your hypothesis.
What is it?
Take her the drink and find out.
I’m programming the next bike with less attitude. Her avatar pouts as I walk away. The soil crunches beneath my boots, sending puffs of dust into the air. As I come near, I see what’s caught her attention. It’s a small flower with bright pink petals—the same shade as her hair—edged in white; five arms spread wide. It’s only a few inches tall. She reaches for the metal canister, and I hand it to her.
She unscrews the lid and upends it over the tiny bloom. Clean water pours from the shiny metal canteen, sparkling as the sun catches the droplets. She’s lost her mind.
“You’re wasting it.” I reach for the canteen, my voice gruffer than I intended. I don’t know when we’ll find more. Jin needs water to live. She has to exist. She is my only purpose. “It’s for you to drink. Not some weed.”
“It just wants to survive, Tonick.” She yanks it out of my reach, spilling even more onto the ground. “Like me. Don’t you get that?”
“You’re more important.” If you end, I end. I don’t care that Dyad can hear my thoughts.
“Maybe.” She studies the lonely survivor, caressing the petals and then the leaves. “I’ve never seen a flower before. Does it look like a star to you?” She dribbles a little more water over it and then stands. She takes a long drink, her head tilted back. After, she wipes her mouth on her sleeve. “How do you know we’re traveling toward something? What if GenCor wants us to get lost out here?”
“We won’t.” Even though I don’t know where we are, we’re not lost. I’m sure of it.
“We’ve been traveling for hours.” Jin turns toward Bostgo. The smudge shimmers in the heat that rolls off the ground.
“True,” I say. “But it’s not that much farther.”
“Maybe we should go back.”
“Impossible.”
She takes a step away from the two of us. “I’ve never been this far.”
“It’s our best chance,” Dyad interjects. “Get back on, Jin.”
Jin turns to study me. “Do you think it’s the last flower in the world?” The corners of her mouth turn down, and her chin quivers.
And then I understand. She is the flower, trying to persist in the death shadow of GenCor. She might be the last one in the world.
I reach for the canteen and pour a little more of the precious water over the already dry flower. “We’ll help her survive. She might be the last one, but she’s not alone.”
Jin’s shoulders droop, and she sighs. She wobbles. Maybe the day is more than catching up with her.
S
he trudges back to Dyad. “The cost of caring is so high. Is it worth it?” she murmurs.
“Always,” I whisper, and then jog after her.
After another hour, the little bushes become more frequent and taller until a tree line appears ahead of us. Beneath the blue-tinted gray, a row of trees extends to the skyline on either side of the road. Shadows gape from between the trunks. I’ve never seen a forest. Jin hasn’t either. The place the old man built for Jin must be inside. GenCor operates beneath the shade of the smog they created.
I don’t like it. The leaves aren’t smog, but bad things happen in the dark.
A bright red feathered bird darts out and then back in.
Jin squeezes me, and she laughs. “I’ve never seen anything so big and green.” She stares up in wonder at the leafy canopy above us. She can’t see anything but the good. “Pictures aren’t the same thing at all.”
A sweet-scented breeze meets us. There’s water somewhere off in the distance. That’s a good sign. I can’t help but wonder if GenCor created the Barren to keep people from trying to leave. Power pollutes in more ways than one.
The highway continues into the forest, but at the bottom of a small rise, there’s a tree marked with a star. I know it’s for Jin. Stars are lucky. Grass pushes up through old leaves, and the landscape is dotted with star-shaped flowers, the blossoms bigger and brighter than the lonely ones only in the Barren.
“Look.” My elbow meets Jin’s middle. “It wasn’t the only one.”
She doesn’t answer me but wipes her face. Hope refills when we least expect it.
Beside the marked tree, I pull off the road, and Dyad scans the underbrush. A light emanates from her headlights and moves across the ground. The motorcycle shifts as Jin slips off the seat behind me, gaping at the alive trees around us with a smile on her face. She’s seen only the shriveled, twisted trunks of timber back in Bostgo. Dyad locates what looks like an old path. Hidden in an overgrowth of vines, two stones about the size of my feet mark the beginning.
First Shot Page 9
