Faulty Prophet

by Karl Beecher

Ooof!

  Urgh!

  Agh!

  Stop hitting me!

  I'm not, I'm hitting me!

  With every punch, Lowcuzt's body stumbled backwards several steps away from the exit and further into the room. With every step, the arm Lowcuzt controlled felt heavier and evermore numb. At first, he suspected the arm was tiring, but then he realised it was more than that.

  He was losing control of it.

  Soon enough, the arm felt like it was made of stone. He could barely even form a fist.

  I know what the problem is! cried Crzethnuk. It's the proximity. I'm losing signal. I must get back to the beacon.

  Lowcuzt's battered body limped and lurched across the room back towards the door to his private vault. Finally, he stumbled through the two doorways and collapsed onto the floor of the rocky chamber in a panting heap beside the artifact.

  Once again, Lowcuzt was totally powerless.

  Ah, control again, wheezed Crzethnuk.

  What happened? asked Lowcuzt.

  The beacon's power has a range. I lose control of your body if I move beyond it. Curses!

  Then leave me.

  I can't. I have a mission, and I need a body to complete it.

  Hard luck. We're at an impasse. You can't leave the Überdigitality room and retain control of me. And I won't help you.

  But you don't know yet how I can help you. Crzethnuk's voice took on a teasing, tantalising edge. There may be some mutual benefit here.

  Lowcuzt was sceptical, but he might as well learn all he could about this invader. What is it you want?

  Crzethnuk sat Lowcuzt's body against the wall and sighed.

  I'm a Predecessor, he began. We used to be physical like you. But that was millennia ago until we decided to engineer not just the next step in our own evolution, but a gargantuan leap to shake off physicality itself and become pure energy. Liberation from our base, physical instincts. We now exist in a dimension of pure energy, a timeless world of contemplation. We are nothing but minds, floating around an infinite void, interacting only via thought. No substance, no emotions, just pure intellect.

  It all sounded wonderful.

  And you want to leave all that?

  Yes. Personally speaking, it's not really for me. I yearn for physicality once more. Senses, emotions, pleasures. I must have them. But for that, I need a physical body.

  I don't care. You can't have mine.

  I think we can come to an arrangement—

  And no, Lowcuzt anticipated, you can't borrow it either. My body is not a timeshare.

  No, voiced Crzethnuk. A different arrangement. I saw what you're working on out there. Computer uplift. The transformation of your consciousness into digital signals for upload into a computer network.

  He'd described it perfectly.

  Yeah, so what?

  I can help you. You saw what I drew on the screen out there. The science of uplift is basic knowledge for me, but it is still far beyond your capabilities. Without my knowledge, you will not achieve it in your lifetime. But with my help, we can make it a reality within days.

  Days? You mean make Überdigitality work? Achieve real uplift into the computer network?

  Yes.

  You can really do that?

  Of course. It is merely a matter of programming. In fact, you could think of Predecessors as programmers, just like you are. We solved the problem of ascendancy into the ethereal realm by treating it as a programming problem.

  Really?

  Yes. The multiverse is just a giant computer. Spacetime is a colossal memory bank. The corporeal realm is but one program out of countless others being executed. Once you learn how to dereference pointers to the unallocated memory of reality, as we did, you can gain access to the other programs.

  That's incredible!

  In comparison, uploading your consciousness into a computer is child's play. Now…is that something you would like me to do for you?

  Lowcuzt was staggered. The realisation of his dreams! The ultimate achievement in technology: becoming one with the machine. It would make implants, and cybernetic augmentations look as primitive as the wheel by comparison.

  Yes! cried Lowcuzt, his emotions running away with him. In the name of all that's precious, yes! And in return, you want my body?

  That's the trade. I also need your help. It turns out that, at the moment, I am not truly in possession of your body. It is more like a kind of remote control. To achieve true possession so that I may move freely, I need to make adjustments to the beacon. I will need access to the equipment you have here.

  Fine, replied Lowcuzt. Whatever you need.

  Do we have a deal?

  Lowcuzt went over it again in his mind. So, I cooperate, letting you customise your contraption so you can properly cross dimensions—or whatever you do—and in return, you'll fix Project Überdigitality. After that, I uplift into the computer network, and you get my body. Right?

  Correct.

  It scarcely warranted consideration. Of course he would do it. It was the chance of a lifetime. Leave behind mortal bodies with all their design flaws and annoying emotions to live in a world built on pure logic? It was a no-brainer. In fact, from his view, he was clearly up on the deal.

  And…one other thing, mumbled Crzethnuk, as though he'd just remembered one extra item for a shopping list. I shall need to test the possession procedure on a live specimen once I've made the adjustments to the beacon.

  Can't you just test on us…I mean, on me?

  Alas, if the procedure doesn't function correctly, it could be rather dangerous, explained Crzethnuk. I'd rather not risk damaging my future residence. Perhaps you could find me some…volunteers?

  26

  Tyresa checked her breath. It wasn't easy to do while wearing handcuffs and being frogmarched by two burly security officers.

  She hadn't cleaned her teeth for a couple of days, and her last meal had been some vile Transhacker gruel. She finally managed to exhale into a cupped hand. It smelled exactly like the breath of someone who hadn't cleaned their teeth for a couple of days and whose last meal had been some vile Transhacker gruel.

  Not a good start. Seduction depended on the absence of unpleasant smells. Bad breath was a mood killer. She'd just have to try and keep her mouth closed while speaking.

  Body odour was a problem too. She hadn't found the time to get under a sonic showerhead during the last few days' sweaty adventures. Forget smelling like an Altairian racknobeast's armpit. There were probably Altairian racknobeasts out there, lazing in mud pools, complaining they smelled like Tyresa Jak's armpit.

  Never mind. It was just a bit of honest sweat. It might even be a turn on. Either that or it would make Robbi sick.

  She and her two escorts came to a junction. One of the officers grabbed her elbow and yanked around the corner.

  "Hey!" Tyresa complained. "You can just tell me which way to go, you know. I'm not a dog."

  The stony-faced security officers said nothing.

  A moment later, they came to a stop beside a closed door. This must have been where Robbi was. Tyresa ran a hand through her hair. Tidy or messy? Hmm, a little of both. She tugged the bottom of her t-shirt and pushed up her bosom. Too obvious? Not enough? There wasn't that much to push up anyway. She did her best with what nature had begrudged her.

  A moment later, the doors opened to reveal Robbi standing in the middle of the room, still in uniform. She said nothing, merely gestured to the officers who marched Tyresa over the threshold. This seemed to be Robbi's personal quarters. It looked like most of the rest of the ship—cold lighting, grey walls littered with readouts, and sturdy, metallic furniture more suited to a trilithium refinery's cafeteria—but the giveaway was the bed in the corner of the room. Or the ‘personal recharge unit' as Transhackers preferred to call it. Tyresa eyed its array of cables and probes, which charged and maintained implants during sleep but made the whole thing look like the galaxy's scariest operating table.

  "You t
wo wait outside," ordered the Commander.

  The security officers saluted then left, the door closing behind them. Perfect. No prying eyes.

  "You demanded to see me?" asked Robbi, standing arrow-straight and wearing a deadpan expression.

  Demanded was the right word. As Colin had been carted out of the brig—semi-conscious and babbling about someone called Klablath—Tyresa had yelled at the medics requesting a meeting. Of course, the Commander didn't have to grant an audience. No doubt she had been persuaded after overhearing Tyresa's conversation with Colin, the one where she'd implied that Robbi's seductive charm was enough to get her to talk.

  Little did Robbi know the seduction would be all in the other direction.

  Tyresa nodded. "You off-duty?"

  "Affirmative," replied the Commander.

  Figured. She'd lowered her uniform's front zipper by a couple of centimetres. Transhackers really knew how to let their hair down after a hard day's work.

  "Good," said Tyresa. She needed to soften the hard mood, so proceeded to step slowly around the room, glancing around and absent-mindedly stroking the furniture. "You've done well for yourself."

  Robbi frowned. "Explain?"

  "Making Commander I mean, and on a fine vessel like this one. You're certainly moving up in the galaxy."

  "I see," she replied. "I don't do it ‘for myself' as you would say. I act for the good of the Collective. My position merely reflects my associates' evaluations of my abilities."

  Tyresa chuckled. "Spoken like a real Transhacker. So straight and true. You make even the most rigid of your colleagues look like slackers. It's no wonder they call you Snowy."

  "People no longer apply that nickname to me," said Robbi, a hint of annoyance barely detectable in her voice.

  "Maybe not to your face these days, seeing as you're now superior officer to most of your old friends."

  Robbi said nothing. That comment had probably hit home. Even in a society of conformists, people could be judged for trying too hard.

  Tyresa went on. "You told me about that nickname in my apartment last year. Remember that?"

  "Of course."

  Tyresa smiled and thought back to that night. Robbi had told her how she'd been born on a Collective colony to banished, beatnik parents. Too bohemian for respectable society, they had instead pioneered the frontiers. Several years of this earned them redemption, so they'd returned home as conformists and been reabsorbed into the Collective. But that had meant having to raise Robbi—still, a child at that point—the orthodox way, entrusting her to the state and depositing her into a Collective school.

  It can't have been easy for her, spending her earliest years in something like a normal family setting only to be then abandoned into a cold, loveless upbringing. She had apparently behaved differently at first. She even looked different too. Transhackers were genetically manipulated during gestation to sport a uniform look—androgynous face, black hair, rectangular-shaped body—but Robbi had been born naturally, having none of her natural characteristics suppressed. As a result, she had a head of glorious chestnut brown hair, a high forehead, full lips, and a figure that screamed female.

  The other kids had teased Robbi mercilessly. Her way of dealing with it had been to work harder and conform even more than the rest of them, to be more orthodox than the orthodox. She sailed through school and then the Academy, never putting a foot wrong, striving to be a pure, whiter-than-white Transhacker, and picking up the label Snowy along the way.

  Life had become a little easier as she got older. The reabsorption of evermore colonists had resulted in there being more Transhackers around sporting unusual appearances, so Robbi no longer stood out quite so much. But her upbringing must have left scars.

  And scars meant vulnerability. That was always helpful to know when manipulating someone.

  "Don't worry," said Tyresa. "I won't call you Snowy. I know just how impure you can be when you want to."

  Robbi remained unmoved. "Please come to the point. Why exactly did you wish to see me?"

  Tyresa drew closer to her. "Maybe I needed to see you. Maybe I've been cooped in my cell thinking about you."

  She reached out her cuffed hands and stroked the medal on Robbi's chest, although ‘medal' was a grandiose term for the small square of silver. The Commander did nothing to stop her.

  "Ah," said Tyresa. "Exceptional Service Acknowledgement. That's new. A reward for stealing my artifact last year?"

  "A recognition of my service."

  Tyresa nodded, her finger lingering on the medal. "And well deserved too. In these little quarrels we've had, it looks like, overall…" She clenched, trying not to betray her annoyance at what she was about to say. "…you've emerged the winner."

  For the first time, Robbi did something other than stand motionless. She shifted a little. For a Transhacker that was practically a declaration from a mountain top. But of what? Pride? Discomfort?

  "You came here to tell me that?"

  "Partly," replied Tyresa. "I don't want you to think there's any doubt in my mind that I've been…beaten." Again, she almost choked at having to concede like this. It had better produce some results. "You don't have to keep trying to punish me."

  "I don't?"

  "No. And let me say, there's nobody I'd rather have been beaten by."

  She chanced to step a little nearer. Not quite beyond normal boundaries, but noticeably close. Enough to see the texture of Robbi's smooth skin, the colour in her eyes, one brown, the other green and magnified slightly by the ocular implant.

  Robbi remained resolutely still.

  "We could conclude this game right now," Tyresa continued. "Call it quits and part ways."

  "Part ways in what sense?" asked Robbi. "You are our prisoner."

  "You could let me go."

  "Release you? Now?"

  Tyresa shrugged and fired a suggestive smile. "Well… it doesn't have to be right now."

  Tyresa saw Robbi swallow. It was working.

  "I don't have the authority to let you go," she replied. "Captain Kliez is in command."

  Tyresa nudged up her efforts a little more, chewing on her lip and looking the Commander up and down. "Yes, but you have power. You're second-in-command. The Captain will listen to you. He knows you're smart."

  She crept forward again, close enough now to smell Robbi. That meant Robbi could smell her too, but it was a risk she had to take. The Commander's scent was immediately recognisable, the same that had lingered on Tyresa's pillow last year.

  Tyresa looked her in the eye. "Or you could make it look like I busted myself out, nothing to do with you."

  "Just like that?"

  "Mmm-hmm."

  "What will you do then, follow this trail to Alcentor?"

  "Maybe."

  Robbi paused a moment. "What about Colin Douglass?"

  Tyresa chanced a stroke of Robbi's arm. There was no complaint as she trailed her fingertips along the shiny uniform. "What about him?"

  "He's ill."

  "He'll be fine."

  "He needs a hospital."

  "I'll get him to a hospital."

  "You said you were going to follow the coordinates."

  "Yes. I'll take him when I've finished there."

  "But he needs specialist help. The Doctor says she has no idea what's in his brain."

  "Don't worry about Colin," she assured Robbi. "I'll take care of him."

  It was time to move in for the kill. She reached out and took Robbi's hand in hers. It was the left hand, the one lacking implants. Just pure, unspoiled flesh. It felt cold like it always had. Robbi had laughed—actually laughed—when Tyresa had teased her back on Ceti about her icy hands.

  "You worry too much," said Tyresa. "You care too much about other people. Stop working so hard for others' approval. Let's just think about me and you for now."

  That seemed to placate Robbi. She went quiet and began scanning Tyresa's face and neck.

  Finally, the Commander reached up with
her free hand and gently stroked Tyresa's hair. It felt nice. Tyresa let her eyes close and actually began to feel a little swept along with everything. It may not recapture the magic of last year but, who knew, maybe she might get some enjoyment out of this too?

  "Tyresa?" breathed Robbi.

  "Yes?"

  "Where did you find the artifact?"

  "On Solo IV, near—" Tyresa stopped. The mood vanished like a candle's flame blowing out. She opened her eyes and took a few paces back. "Wait, what?"

  "The artifact that Colin Douglass referenced," explained Robbi. "The Predecessor artifact."

  She spoke so matter-of-factly, like the last few minutes had just been normal conversation.

  "Why are you asking me that?" she said, feeling suddenly confused and embarrassed.

  "We'd like to know," replied Robbi.

  "N-no," Tyresa stuttered. "I'm the one who's trying to get you to play ball."

  Robbi looked sceptical. "I suspected you'd attempt some sort of seduction. But you seemed to be in such an obliging mood yourself just now, so I took the opportunity to ask."

  The realisation twisted Tyresa's stomach. "Jeez, and I almost told you!"

  "Indeed. You seemed to have succeeded only in seducing yourself. It is probably unwise to seduce someone for whom you have genuine feelings."

  Feelings? Where did people get off, suggesting she had feelings for Robbi.

  "Huh, as if! I'm not even into girls," scoffed Tyresa, which was at least kind of true. Most of her past partners had been guys. It didn't take long to tally them all up—sadly. "This is probably just some cold-hearted Transhacker trick. I knew you people were mercenary but—"

  "You have the gall to call me cold-hearted? Mercenary?" Robbi didn't raise her voice by much, but she didn't have to. The sharp contrast with her normal demeanour was enough to put Tyresa on the back foot. "You should look in the mirror before throwing around such words. Your friend, Colin Douglass, is suffering a life-threatening illness, held in check only by some mysterious energy we know nothing about. And what have you been doing?"

  "What do you expect me to do?"

  "You've certainly complained a lot in your cell," the Commander snapped, "but have you once raised your voice about Colin? Asked to learn more about his condition? Asked me if he's all right after his blackout in the brig? Have you even enquired exactly where we're taking him and whether he can expect to be cured? No. Instead, you come here expecting me to let you escape and take Colin Douglass with you on a treasure hunt. And you do so in the most clumsy, desperate way. I'm unconvinced that you're currently thinking straight. I think you have let yourself become carried away with these discoveries."