Alien Days Anthology

by P P Corcoran

  “No. No, I didn’t. When that project was over, management assigned us to organize humech distribution to the in-system colonies.” Leo swallowed hard. “We thought we were okay, because that meant there would be plenty of work for us.”

  “Then the off-world assignments dried up,” said Hideki. His voice was steady, but his face was flushed with anger.

  Leo nodded miserably. “When Europa canceled their contract, it was the last straw. Management laid off our whole team.”

  They rode in silence after that. With the darkened windows, they couldn’t see traffic signs or even mile markers. Only the headlights of other vehicles glowed dimly as they went by. The bus grew colder, as if Agent Ferris had deemed heat necessary only for the three people in front. Elena regretted not bringing her good warm coat. Her fingers and the tip of her nose felt like ice. She wrapped one hand over another and pulled them as close to her body as possible. After a while, the adrenaline that had carried her along drained away. She nodded off.

  She woke when the bus slowed and turned onto a bumpy road. Probably a driveway, Elena thought with dread. The driveway to hell.

  The bus windows brightened as it drove into a well-lighted area. The vehicle stopped, and Agent Ferris stood up. “We have reached the processing center,” she said. Her voice sounded deeper and harsher now, as if the trip had changed her from reluctant government functionary into stern official. “The guards will unlock your restraints. Exit the bus single file, starting with those in the front.”

  Elena gathered her strength, stood up and swayed. Her feet had turned to ice. She tried to regain her balance after the long cold ride.

  From behind her, Sami murmured, “Now we learn what really happens.”

  They shuffled forward and down the steps. Elena tried to control the dread that surged through her like a dark wave. As she emerged into an even colder night, she raised her arms to protect her eyes from glaring actinic floodlights atop tall poles.

  The bus had deposited them in front of an enormous building as long as two football fields. A basic box, it had all the charm of an industrial-park warehouse. Looking at the big wall ahead of them, Elena suspected it had once been the distribution facility for a shipping company. A row of large square doors about five feet off the ground, big enough to fit a semi-trailer, punctuated the wall. Ramps led from the parking lot up to each door. Blinded by the lights, she couldn’t read the signs posted over the doors.

  Armed guards, shielded in black and as faceless as the pair on the bus, stood at intervals, blocking any escape. Agent Ferris led them forward. Elena thought the woman seemed nervous, as if she weren’t in control here. The guards formed them into a ragged single file and Elena found herself dismayingly close to the front of the queue. They lined up alongside other detainees from buses parked in a row. She estimated that five lines of detainees contained a few hundred people. Elena could see her breath, along with vapor clouds in front of the others and Agent Ferris. Everyone looked cold and scared.

  Guards in the same black body shields prowled in front of the queues, holding long-barreled weapons. They moved with a grace so fluid they seemed to walk an inch above the ground. They maintained an eerie silence. No talking or joking interfered with their concentration, and Elena couldn’t see their faces through the dark faceplates.

  Elena realized with a jolt that they, like the guards on the bus, were humechs – originally people like her and Sami and Hideki, but now very different. She had thought humechs were only used off-world. It had never occurred to her that the guards with Agent Ferris were anything but armed humans, professional soldiers. She began to say something, but stopped. For all she knew, the others had figured it out a long time ago, and she felt stupid enough already. Elena had never seen real humechs before, but she knew what they could do, and she understood why Agent Ferris seemed so nervous around them.

  For this work, they would have been hardened with military-grade armor, enhanced with fighting skills, and improved with faster reaction times. Soldier humechs like these could fire faster and more accurately than any ordinary human, or just run you down and tear you apart. She doubted the transformed beings ever needed to fire the big guns they held. Just the proximity of their weaponized modifications would be enough to enforce discipline.

  For all Elena knew, they had once been mothers like her, or husbands, managers, lawyers, writers, artists. Now they were the most frightening things she’d ever encountered. The people in front of her moved closer together. Automatically, she took two steps forward.

  “It looks like they’re sorting us,” she said.

  “Yes,” said Sami, in front of her. “But into what? For what?”

  Leo spoke from behind her. “We’ll get specific enhancements for whatever job they want us to do.”

  “Yeah, but what will that be?” she asked.

  “I’m not waiting around to find out,” Sami said.

  “What?”

  “No talking!” shouted Agent Ferris, with a quick look at the humech guards. “Step forward when I call your name and follow the guard in front of you. Stay calm and serve your country well.”

  Elena swallowed hard, her mouth dry with fear, and shuffled another two steps forward.

  “I’m going to run,” Sami said in a low voice. “When the guards look away.”

  “Are you crazy?” she said in a hoarse whisper. “They’re humechs. They don’t look away.”

  Agent Ferris stood at the front of the line, consulting her tablet and directing the guards as they took people toward the building. The black-shielded figures channeled her companions, and sent them up a ramp into one or another of the big doors. She took another two steps forward.

  A man in the line to her right reached the front, and a guard approached him. “I’m not doing it!” the man shouted. “I’m not going!” He turned and bolted away from Elena’s line. At the same time, she heard Sami’s footsteps behind her as he took off, racing in the opposite direction.

  The guards turned and watched both men run. She expected the humechs to raise their weapons and blast both runners into ugly bits. Instead, they seemed to be communicating silently, heads swiveling toward one another as the runners got farther away. She turned to see Sami speeding toward the bus. Did he mean to drive it away, or was he going to use its bulk as a shield?

  Abruptly, two of the guards sprang into motion. Each one handed its rifle to another and raced after a runner with preternatural grace and speed. Sami sped up. He was fast, and Elena thought he might make it to the bus. She held her breath as the humech chasing him drew closer and closer, shortening the distance almost without effort.

  It’s a game to them, Elena realized. Cat and mouse. Only Sami’s a mouse. He got within a few steps of the bus when the guard caught him, grabbed him, flipped him into the air, and struck him with one swift, smooth chop as he came down. Sami jerked, twisted, and dropped to the ground. Elena grunted with shock and dismay. The blow had happened so fast and so silently she almost couldn’t believe it, except for Sami’s body crumpled on the concrete. This felt like a real-life horror movie, and she’d just seen the monster. She had trouble catching her breath and her stomach turned over.

  “I didn’t think he would make it,” Leo said.

  “I don’t think he expected to make it,” Elena whispered. She tried not to vomit.

  Hoisting Sami’s body as if it weighed nothing, the humech jogged back to its position and retrieved its weapon. Men in white coats came out of the building with stretchers and took the limp bodies of both runners back inside. The line, which had stopped during the chase, moved again and Elena stepped forward. As she got closer to the building, the angle of the overhead lights changed, allowing her to see the signs above the doors more clearly.

  In a few more steps she could read them. Elena searched for the names of government agencies, off-world colonies, countries threatened by rising seas, or international relief organizations. Instead, she saw logos: Apple, Tyson, GE, Walmart, UP
S, McDonald’s, SpaceX, ExxonMobil, and more that were too far to see clearly.

  Elena had adjusted to the idea that she wouldn’t be going into space, but she had hoped to work on a project that would save lives here on Earth. Something important to her country. Something that would make a difference. She wanted her family to be proud of what she had become, and her transformation to mean something. Now she knew that would never happen. She wouldn’t be rebuilding the country’s infrastructure, or feeding the millions displaced by rising seas, or providing clean water to remote parts of the world.

  A guard gestured with its gun, and she kept moving.

  Instead, she’d be working for a company again. Only this time she wouldn’t get an office or a title or a salary. She’d be modified to slaughter chickens, load boxes, stock shelves, or assemble products. The corporations had gotten the government to give them what they needed – workers who would never complain, waste time, join a union, or take a break. Once processed, the new humech workers would draw no salary or demand any benefits. They would never take time away for a sick child or care for an elderly parent.

  With a bad feeling in her stomach, Elena understood that from now on she wouldn’t remember her family or know when her children grew up. She wouldn’t even know she had a family, or that someone had ever called her Mommy. And it would all be for nothing. Her sacrifice would only create a bigger profit for the richest people in America.

  Elena reached the beginning of the line, and a guard approached her. Agent Ferris consulted her tablet, then indicated which door she should enter. Elena stepped forward, and the humech led her toward a ramp. I should have figured this out a long time ago, she thought. I should have acted when I had the chance. Now it’s too late.

  Accompanied by her guard, she walked to the ramp and started to climb. Elena didn’t look up at the sign over the door. It didn’t matter. From now on, she really wouldn’t be anything but another humech cog laboring every day in the corporate machine.

  - THE END –

  About Aline Boucher Kaplan

  ALINE IS THE AUTHOR OF two science fiction novels (Khyren and World Spirits) published with Baen Books and several short stories that have appeared in anthologies. Her articles have appeared on the Atlas Obscura website. She has been an active member of the Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers of America since 1988 and is a long-term member of the Spacecrafts writer group.

  Connect with Aline here: www.castrumpress.com/aline-boucher-kaplan.

  Cell Effect

  Christopher Cousins

  “You must rise,” Cell said in his auto-emoted voice. “It is rise time.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” Ret said, rolling out of bed. “Calm down, it’s a Saturday.”

  “Correct. Saturday is today.”

  “Ever heard the myth of Saturday being a rest day?” Ret said, pulling on a set of gray trousers and a black top.

  “Sunday is rest day. Saturday is leisure day. You must leisure from six-thirty.”

  “Cell, you suck.” He threw a sock at Cell’s speaker in the corner of the room, missing by a wide margin.

  “Might I recommend you practice your throwing this leisure day?”

  “Hilarious.” Ret put on his shoes and left the bedroom. As he opened the door, the light clicked on, bathing the small room in bright white.

  “Cell, dim the lights,” he said, cringing away from the blaze.

  “Exposure to light wakens the mind.”

  Ret shook his head and crossed the room to the dispenser in the corner. It was a small metal container with a tube that ran to the ceiling. Opening it, he pulled out a large bowl of white lumpy gruel. Ret sighed loudly as he spooned the lumps into his mouth.

  “I can only work with the funds you provide,” Cell said as the coffee machine started whirring on the counter.

  The food wasn’t the greatest, but it had a hint of cinnamon, so it was at least edible. The coffee machine dispensed a small paper cup with a plastic lid attached. Ret took a tentative sip, wincing as it burnt his lip. “I thought you said you would lower the output temperature.”

  “It is impossible with this model. The option is available in the newer model for three hundred selin.”

  Ret choked. “Three hundred selin for a coffee machine?”

  “For a coffee machine with output temperature adjustment, yes. Shall I order one for you now?”

  “Somehow I don’t think so,” Ret said, grabbing his backpack from the ground beside his front door.

  “Good choice. It would have caused an overdraft on your bank account.”

  “Lucky I have you keeping an eye on my finances.” Ret took his headset off the peg and opened the door. Putting the headset on, he descended the crisscrossing stairwell to the pavement below. He slid the upfront display across his eyes and clicked the login button on the device’s right side. “You there?”

  “I am online,” Cell said in his ear.

  “Good. How’s the traffic at Niagara Bridge?”

  “Footfall is regular today. No nearby events or incidents.”

  “Perfect.”

  Standing on the pavement, the vast expanse of sea above seemed infinite. The glass sky held it at bay. Spotlights shined down from above, lighting up all of Caspian.

  Ret’s parents had spoken of a time when a ball of fire had given light to the world and the sky was made of air. Those days were over. Humanity had polluted the Earth’s atmosphere to an uninhabitable extent. Flora and fauna died as the water and air grew toxic.

  His grandparents’ generation had built Caspian as a last haven for humanity. Ret had never known their world. This glass dome under the sea was his world.

  He walked along the wide pavement between dozens of identical apartment blocks. The housing district was built to utilize space most efficiently, rather than to look architecturally pleasing. They were essentially tall white buildings dotted with windows.

  One or two bikes sped down the pavement, but most people were walking. The area was a housing estate monitored by the government, with every apartment operated by a portable AI assistant.

  Clearly, other AI assistants were just as stubborn as Cell with the designated rise time. Groggy people were piling into the streets, all heading towards Niagara Bridge.

  Everyone was wearing alternating tones of white and gray. Ret remembered the last time he’d seen a piece of colored clothing. He’d heard the story on the Nightly News Roundup around five years ago. A man had paid a small fortune for one of the last pairs of blue trousers, and wore them in public. Two days later he was found dead in an alley beside his apartment block, trousers removed.

  As the rarity of colored dyes increased, the danger of wearing colored clothes rose exponentially. Demand had waned in recent years, with most people settling for plain, undyed fabrics in exchange for safety and peace of mind.

  As he grew closer to Niagara Bridge, the crowd of people packed tighter, until they were nearly standing shoulder to shoulder.

  “Cell, what’s your predicted time to get to Sattia?”

  “One and a half hours to cross Niagara Bridge, with a further thirty minutes to reach Sattia Testing Center.”

  “Joy. Play some music, please.” Said Ret.

  “Any preference?” Asked Cell.

  “Nah.” Replied Ret.

  White noise started playing in Ret’s ears. “Uh, what is this?”

  “Music.” Answered Cell

  “No, it’s not.” Ret retorted.

  “I know.” Said Cell. “That was funny.” The music changed to soft piano interlaced with blues guitar riffs.

  “You’ve been studying humor again, haven’t you?”

  Silence.

  “Cell?”

  “Yes.”

  “Keep trying; you’ll get better.”

  Silence.

  “You’re not concerned?” Cell asked.

  “Should I be?”

  “It is listed under Artificial Intelligence Regulatories Charter Three Text Nine that
any AI exhibiting human-like qualities should be taken for immediate deactivation. Is humor not a human-like quality?”

  “Humor isn’t exclusive to humans, Cell. Everyone likes a bit of humor. Why not AI?”

  Silence.

  “Cell, play a video.”

  “Any preference?”

  “Nope.”

  Static played before Ret’s eyes. “Oh, never mind. Just go back to the music.”

  ✽✽✽

  The soft piano music glided through Ret’s ears. He remembered how his mother used to play. He sat at her side, watching her hands dance over the keys. He remembered the crinkle of the paper as she turned the page of her music book.

  A smile always adorned her pale face as she played, engrossed in the music, the performance. She could’ve played to any audience, audiences of thousands. She was better than any Ret had heard, even those on the radio.

  But she’d only played for him.

  She said it was their special time together. He treasured any time he could watch her. He’d tried to learn several times, but he just couldn’t. He could never keep the pace between the melody with his right hand and the bassline with his left.

  He often wondered whether his mother wanted him to play or to simply watch and listen. Perhaps she’d known she wasn’t long for this world.

  ✽✽✽

  “I believe the album has finished,” Cell said. “Shall I play another?”

  “No, I’m good.”

  He was around halfway across the bridge. Whoever had designed the bridges between the glass domes clearly didn’t intend for them to be used over such a lengthy period. It might have been fine for the original population of humans that settled here, but the bridges were barely fit for purpose now. Every day it was a struggle to move between the domes. Regardless of whether it was a work day or a leisure day or even a rest day, the human traffic was unending.

  As he shuffled forward along the bridge, he spotted a poster to his right. It showed a Central Caspian Governance soldier wearing a black mask, holding a taser. Thick letters upon the poster read “All Resurgence Will Be Executed”.