Uroboros Saga Book 1

by Arthur Walker

  On the third pass, they approached us. The younger of the two, the one wearing shorts, waved and smiled in greeting.

  “Hey there, you interested in some work?”

  Taylor didn’t even look up from the game she was playing on her mobile.

  “We’re fine, thanks,” she replied.

  “Party later, want to go?” the guy in the coveralls chimed in.

  “You guys are so lame, go troll for suckers somewhere else,” Taylor said laughing a little bit.

  They both got really angry all of a sudden. The one in the coveralls turned and looked about to make sure no one was watching while the other grabbed Taylor.

  “I think you and your little brother should come with us,” he growled.

  I leapt up, taking a quick swipe at his arm. He reeled back in pain as I grabbed him around the shoulders, riding him all the way to the ground. His head made a thick hollow sound as it hit the concrete.

  I whirled around to face the guy with the coveralls flashing him my claws. He was already running. Taylor hopped down and gave the kid wearing the shorts a kick to the ribs.

  “Jerk!”

  “He’s crying,” I observed.

  “You barely scratched him, they seriously need to screen out the wusses when they recruit spotters,” Taylor remarked coolly.

  “Spotters?”

  “For slavers, human traffickers.”

  “Who would want to traffic in humans? They’re all pretty worthless from what I’ve seen,” I growled, giving the spotter a kick of my own.

  He writhed about, eventually regaining his composure and his footing. We watched as he ran into the crowd already gathering.

  “There you are,” Silverstein said, stepping up from a nearby staircase.

  Taylor waved almost frantically as she leapt onto Silverstein. I was glad to see him, too. After detaching Taylor, Silverstein handed me a small object wrapped in paper. Upon opening it, I gazed inside and found a shiny new mobile, a TI-202.

  “For me?”

  “Yeah, I got myself one, too. Taylor already has one, so all I brought her was a hug.”

  “Not true, you guys have newer mobiles than I do now! No fair!” Taylor pouted.

  “Didn’t you tell me a while back you’ve lost every mobile you’ve owned except for your current one?” Silverstein teased.

  “Phooey.”

  We followed Silverstein to a restaurant with a view of the ocean and ordered something called “fish and chips”. I listened to Silverstein intently as I ate the salty potatoes and breaded fish. I really wasn’t hungry, but I couldn’t help myself.

  “I went into uptown and managed to track down an honest to goodness Mechanic,” Silverstein began, taking another bite of clam chowder.

  “What’s that?” Taylor and I asked in unison.

  “They are like techno-shamans. They can feel machines, even manipulate them with their minds. They’re rare in the extreme, but I needed help finding the code Uroboros Financials plans to use to exploit the accounting fraud going on worldwide,” Silverstein whispered, leaning in so only we could hear.

  “That’s what they’re called?” Taylor inquired. “Uroboros Financials? Are they the ones running the Collectors, too?”

  “Worldwide, pulling as much physical cash out of the streets as they can. The whole organization has gotten incredibly corrupt though. I can’t tell what they originally intended to do funneling all that money to those accounts,” Silverstein remarked, shaking his head.

  “What did the Mechanic say?” I asked, reaching for Silverstein’s lingering potatoes.

  “That the code was off-grid. He said I transferred it to a system with an almost impregnable firewall, that promptly went offline... and stayed offline ever since,” Silverstein muttered sadly.

  “Do you even remember doing that?”

  “No.”

  We sat there quietly for a few moments, taking it all in as I tried in vain to eat the last of the breaded fish. Taylor looked ill for a moment, then began to relate the story of how we ran into a much younger version of Silverstein, what he said to her, the injection, Dr. Helmet, and the show stopper.

  “Dr. Helmet thinks I’m some sort of robot,” Taylor blurted out finally.

  “Garbage disposal maybe,” Silverstein quipped.

  “Is this Pick-on-Taylor day? I’m serious, he said I was a robot made of millions of tiny robots,” Taylor exclaimed angrily.

  The rest of the Fish and Chips place went silent as people turned to look at Taylor. She smiled sheepishly then sank back into her seat. For once, I wasn’t the weirdest person in the room.

  “You shot me?” Silverstein asked quietly.

  “Well, no, not you. A younger you who was trying to inject me with something to ‘mess me up’,” Taylor replied looking mightily uncomfortable.

  “If it’s true, and you’re some sort of machine, maybe I transferred the code to you somehow?”

  “I think I would remember that.”

  “Right, we can’t both be amnesiacs. That’s my shtick anyway.”

  Taylor sighed loudly kicking her feet under the table in consternation. None of this made sense to me either.

  “Is a computer always aware of everything it receives by air or wire?” I asked.

  Silverstein gave me a blank expression at first then reached across the table grabbing Taylor’s mobile. She protested at first, but Silverstein shushed her.

  “Taylor, you told me sometime when we first met that you’ve lost every mobile you’ve owned save this one right?”

  “Well, yeah.”

  Silverstein clicked open the mobile and thumbed through the data on it.

  “The code is on here.”

  “What?”

  “Your mobile is set to route all data traffic through a separate server that’s rebroadcasting the signal. This separate server is handling all the traffic going to or from this mobile device,” Silverstein said smiling.

  “Where’s the separate server?” Taylor said looking around.

  “Right here. It’s you, Taylor. You’re the one routing the signal. You’re the firewall the Mechanic was talking about. It’s the only explanation,” Silverstein replied chuckling.

  “Wow. Well, I was pretty determined not to lose this one,” she said taking her mobile back.

  “An act of your own will then. You couldn’t lose this device because it was constantly talking to you. Subconsciously, you always know where it is,” Silverstein said nodding.

  “How did this happen?”

  “Before I lost my memory, I knew who and what you were. I was probably downtown looking for you. Just a guess, but it’s plausible.”

  Watching Taylor and Silverstein talk during this moment was surreal. Not being particularly good at reading humans, I wasn’t sure whether they trusted each other more or less. Like all mysteries, the journey to the truth can sometimes be more rewarding than the destination.

  “What do we do next? If I have the code, this is a good thing, right?” Taylor said gazing blankly at her mobile.

  “We’d have to input it directly, past the firewalls around the CGG’s central AI,” Silverstein said shaking his head.

  “Where is it?” I asked, ready to get the thing done.

  “That’s the problem, the main terminal for that particular intelligent agent is in Helsinki, Finland, and heavily guarded,” Silverstein replied.

  “So that’s it, there’s nothing we can do to stop this financial crap storm from shutting down most of the planet?” she whispered dejectedly.

  “From what the Mechanic told me, our meddling may have pushed up the timetable. Whoever is responsible for this will put this into motion within a few days,” he replied.

  “Wait, are
we sure the code was designed to stop this banking apocalypse? Or is it what they need to get the ball rolling? Nothing the bad guys have done recently has made that clear,” I asked quietly.

  “No way of knowing for sure, and there’s nothing saying they don’t have a backup copy, either. We need to get the code to the Mechanic I contacted and have him look at it. Maybe there’s still something we can do,” Silverstein said as he stood up from the table.

  “Can we trust this Mechanic?” I asked.

  “He didn’t want to help me, and he doesn’t advertise his services. It took some convincing to get him to aid me at all or even listen,” Silverstein replied.

  “His reluctance lends him credibility?” Taylor said, nodding slightly.

  “It was the best I could do, and far better than approaching someone that seemed too eager for access to the code,” Silverstein said, his tone mirroring the worry both Taylor and I shared.

  We departed the restaurant and walked up several sets of stairs, going platform to platform towards uptown. When we got there, Silverstein led us to a parking structure where he had a small transport waiting. We climbed aboard without question, not certain of where he was going to take us.

  We drove through uptown for hours, until we finally broke out of the city into the outside. I saw my first forest, and a deer. There are no such animals or plants underground as there are above ground. I was entranced, and the hours passed quickly as day turned to night and back to day once more.

  The transport ambled up off the main road onto a dirt one, taking us back into the forest. I could see a large concrete structure rising in the distance, the better part of it overgrown with ivy and vines. We stopped at the fence that surrounded the complex and waited as the gate painfully creaked open.

  The grounds around the garden were dotted with pens containing domesticated animals and plots containing gardens. Someone was living here, off the grid with their own power source. It reminded me a lot of my home, except that it was above ground.

  Silverstein’s transport rumbled to a halt and came to rest on the uneven ground with a crunch. Taylor threw up her hands and cheered, startling me out of my own personal haze. After a good yawn, and a stretch, I dropped out of the transport where Silverstein and Taylor were waiting.

  “First one on, last one off,” Silverstein quipped.

  “I like the ones that fly better,” I replied, placing my hand on the hull of the vehicle.

  “Where are we?” Taylor asked running her hand over some planted flowers.

  “I’ve only ever talked to Matthias online via a video feed. He’s supposed to be one of the oldest and most proficient Mechanics in the world. If anyone can help me figure out what the code is for, he can,” Silverstein replied, leading us up to the huge complex.

  “That would have gone a long way to convincing us this was a good idea,” Tayler stated impatiently.

  “I dared not even speak his name within city limits.”

  We walked up stairs fashioned from old railroad ties similar to what I’d seen in the subway tunnels near my home. I could hear strange winged creatures chattering in the trees above us as we did. I didn’t want to go inside the complex, preferring to explore the outside we were walking through. It was not meant to be.

  The vault-like doors to the complex opened slowly. Once I stepped inside my suspicions were mostly confirmed. This place was a converted water tank that probably used to supply the large town nearby. Matthias had drained the water, cut holes for access and air conditioning and armored the interior to protect it and make it almost undetectable.

  We walked across an expanded metal walkway through a tunnel with a rounded ceiling. The space below the walkway was full of wires, pipes, hydraulic hoses and other evidence of heavy machinery. The tunnel followed the curvature of the interior of the water tank angling down slowly, eventually meeting up with some stairs.

  A commercial grade sliding door and another twenty feet of tunnel later, we found ourselves in a large underground chamber that housed what looked like several military grade vehicles and suits of powered armor. At the center were several pieces of heavy machinery and a half dozen work tables. Each table displayed a work already in progress.

  “This place looks kind of like Ezra’s home, before the junk sale,” she said putting her hand on one of the painted steel walls.

  “Ezra?” Silverstein said, turning back to look at me.

  “We didn’t build our underground hovels, they were designed for us by someone working the MDC Project,” I replied looking around at the eerily familiar place.

  Doors at the far end of the chamber opened slowly to reveal a man with shoulder length white hair and wearing a lab coat. He was taller than most humans I’d seen, with a thin nose and larger than average hands. His eyes darted up at us as he walked in then back down to the electronic slate he held in his hand.

  From behind him, a small pill shaped robot appeared and came to hover at his side, its spindly mechanical arms dangling comically at its sides. Spectacles perched precariously at the end of his nose, the man reviewed something on his device. He cleared his throat before handing his slate and glasses off to the mechanical assistant floating beside him.

  “Silverstein and company, I presume. Welcome to my home. My name is Matthias Ericsson and this is my assistant, Mod-Bot,” the man said descending the stairs toward the work area of the lap.

  “Yeah, I’m Silverstein and this is Taylor and Ezra.”

  Matthias and Silverstein shook hands and we all sat down around the least cluttered work table.

  “You have some code you’d like me to look at?”

  “Yes, Matthias. Taylor, if you wouldn’t mind?”

  She took out her mobile and placed it in Matthias’s hands. He held the mobile in the palm of his hand then closed his eyes. The screen on the mobile lit up suddenly, its screen rapidly displaying every element of the operating system and the data stored within. It blinked madly for several seconds. Matthias took a deep breath, then gave the mobile back to Taylor.

  “Before we begin, I must ask you a few questions” Matthias whispered, leaning in with both hands on the table. “I need to know what sort of people you are before I reveal anything to you.”

  “How do we know if we can trust you?” Taylor asked. Her cheeks grew red with anger at having her integrity questioned.

  Matthias then turned his gaze to me.

  “Ezra, are you a Type One?”

  “Yes,” I replied after some hesitation.

  “Are you unsure, or ashamed?”

  “Dr. Helmet already tried to tell me what I am. If you’re going to do the same, this conversation is over,” I replied pushing some of what was on the table to the floor with a crash.

  “You’ve met Helmet, have you?” Matthias replied, as matter-of-fact as possible. “He designed the genetic code that would predispose Drones to the duties to which they were assigned. After many long years of work, he was allegedly fired from the MDC Project for gross incompetence.”

  “Can’t say I’m surprised.”

  “Yes, it turns out he had given each Drone a powerful ethical and moral compass. It was extremely difficult for the corrupt Central Global Government to use them for police action where innocent people might be killed. Drones were so concerned with peace and protecting the weak they were of little use to an oppressive global government.” Matthias stated, his gaze fixed upon me.

  “I don’t understand. The rival tribe that lives near mine has no problem hurting surface dwellers,” I replied, almost afraid of the answer.

  “The MDC project spanned decades and involved hundreds of scientists, but a handful of them were really influential. About twenty-five percent of the Drone population was manufactured after Dr. Helmet’s departure. They had to be decommissioned because they were too unpred
ictable. Helmet and I were colleagues on the MDC Project with a man named Maurice Madmar, a brilliant cyberneticist,” Matthias said, sliding an old photo across the table to me.

  “I was created to protect people?” I replied, gazing at the photo of Helmet, Ericsson, and Madmar, their name tags readable on their lab coats.

  “I think you are probably aware of this fact already.”

  “Why were most of us abandoned then? To turn wrenches in the tunnels?”

  “Most of you were built for that purpose. Only a few Type One Drones were created to keep those communities safe from harm or those that would attempt to exploit them.”

  “Ezra’s perception seems to be different from you own, Matthias,” Silverstein replied.

  “I should hope so. How old are you, Ezra?” Matthias said putting the photograph back in his pocket.

  “Eighty-seven.”

  “Damn!” Taylor giggled.

  I blushed uncontrollably, and even now I’m not sure why.

  “One of the first. You’re a pygmy variant with claws, designed specifically as a man hunter. Less than a half of one percent of all Type One Drones were made in this way. I bet you’re three times faster and ten times stronger than a regular man, despite your size.”

  “He is, and I think he’s more aware of himself than you give him credit for,” Silverstein said, somewhat impatiently.

  “We are definitely probing one another for truth, are we not? The infamous Vance Uroboros, enemy of the Central Global Government, manipulator, outlaw, and idealist. Not sure why you’re here,” Matthias replied, turning his attention to Silverstein.

  “My name is Silverstein. I don’t know who this Vance character is.”

  “You have cloned yourself so many times in a vain attempt to maintain control over your anti-government network,” Matthias replied, his face turning to stone. “I wonder if a few of them have gone rogue with their own agenda.”

  “Look, old man--”