“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.”<
br />
“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.”
13
“My word,” Aldous said as he watched the sun sparkle and dance across the endless ocean over which their craft skimmed through their front view screen. “This is extraordinary.”
“This is your first time seeing Venus terraformed, isn’t it?” Rich responded. “I’ve been here a couple times,” he added, enjoying the feeling of superiority it provided for him. “The whole thing’s gorgeous—unspoiled.”
“How could they do this?” Aldous reacted, barely able to move his mouth. “How could the A.I. and James give such a treasure—such a jewel—to the Purists?” He turned away from the scene in front of him and regarded Rich with an astonished expression. “The Purists started WWIII to prevent these very miracles from ever happening. Venus never would’ve been terraformed in the first place if they’d remained in power. They don’t deserve this paradise.”
Rich sucked his lips to one side for a moment as he considered Aldous’s reaction. “I think James thought it was fitting. Venus is the new Garden of Eden. The Purists are the only ones who never ate from the Tree of Knowledge.”
“That’s not something for which they should be commended,” Aldous replied sternly.
Rich shrugged. “Maybe not, but practically speaking, they needed a home base. We weren’t giving them a say in anything anymore, but they deserved the right to carve out their own destiny. Honestly, Venus is awesome, but after everything the Purists have been through, they do deserve it.”
Aldous shook his head, gripping the back of the seat in front of him, digging his fingers into the soft material. “I have difficultly finding words to respond to such an ill-informed opinion.”
“Ah,” Rich said, winking at Aldous, “there’s the arrogant son-of-a-bitch I’ve come to know and loathe. Welcome back.”
Aldous turned back to the front view screen as a wall of white began to form on the horizon. At first, he wasn’t sure if he was seeing some sort of optical illusion, as the sun stained the enormous object with a golden sheen that made it difficult for him to regard it without squinting. Tears nearly formed in his eyes before his mind’s eye tinted his eyes to compensate. “What is that?”
Rich smiled. “This is very interesting. Chief, I think I know where the Purists are taking us.”
“Where?” Aldous asked impatiently.
“You’re seeing the falls?” James’s voice asked through his aural connection to Rich.
“Yep,” Rich replied.
“Yep, is not an answer to my question,” Aldous reacted, his temper short.
“Chief, you better hang on,” Rich said. “I think we’re in for a bumpy ride. It looks like James put the Purists in the place where they’d be least likely to be found.”
“Richard,” Aldous spoke, softening his tone as he regained his patience but speaking slowly and enunciating every word as he asked, “what is this thing?”
“Seriously, Chief,” Rich said as he strapped into his seat and gestured with his head for Aldous to take the seat in front of him. “Strap in. You’ve got about three seconds.”
“Three?” Aldous said, tilting his head quizzically before the ship suddenly made it to the edge of the falls and dove steeply into the white abyss of ocean spray, sending Aldous off his feet and against the ceiling. His magnetic field ignited just in time to keep him from being harmed, but he struggled to float into his seat and strap in as the ship took them on a wild ride through the wall of mist.
“This is so utterly awesome,” Rich whispered as the ship traveled through the mist for nearly a full minute.
“I’m glad you like it,” James replied, “but keep your eyes peeled. Remember, Aldous is a major suspect. Venus’s powerful magnetic force-field should be able to jam any attempts at communication that Aldous might make to give away your position, plus the Purists have ample equip
ment to detect signals, but Aldous is tricky and if he is the one behind this, he had time to plan ahead. Watch him close. You’re our eyes and ears, buddy.”
“Where in Heaven’s name…” Aldous wondered aloud as the view screen continued to reveal nothing but a dimming whiteness. Then, almost as soon as he’d finished speaking the words, the ship began to vibrate, a thunderous sound crescendoed and echoed through the bridge.
“Is that,” Aldous began to form the words, “a waterfall?”
Rich peered through the mist to see the edge of the incredibly powerful falls, millions of liters of water plunging downward every second. “Holy. Crap.”
“Is this…is this how they power it?” Aldous wondered aloud. “There’s so much energy—”
Incredibly, a structure suddenly emerged from the white torrent, splitting the falls in two like a rock formation splitting a raging river, the white water blasting explosively in reaction to the disruption. When the explosive reaction settled, the structure finally took shape, a hexagonally shaped tunnel jutting out, and allowing them access to the mysteries within.
“James is so cool, isn’t he, Chief?” Rich said with a grin. He looked to his left at Aldous, who could hardly close his mouth as he watched the spectacle unfolding before him.
“Thank you, Rich,” James said in Rich’s ear.
“He certainly has his moments,” Aldous reluctantly admitted. “I’ll grant him that.”
14
“Okay, Aldous and Rich are in,” James announced as he, the A.I., and even the candidate pored through copious amounts of code. Each of them had removed what seemed to be endless amounts of the golden filaments from Kali’s avatar and were hunched over separate tables along the curved glass windows of Cloud 9 restaurant.
Thel watched impatiently as the rain continued to fall and streak the windows, while fires burned throughout the city, and the NPCs roared in mobs, chasing down smaller mobs and tearing them horrifically to shreds before, once they’d completed their task, they turned on each other. It was the worst perversion of Darwin’s theories, played out in a mathematical horror show.
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