The Machine's Child (Company)

by Kage Baker

  “Even so my father cast me off, but I never blamed the Almighty,” argued Nicholas.

  “Aren’t you both forgetting something?” said Alec. “We’re all Dr. Zeus’s bastards. Those men were being blackmailed over kids that weren’t even theirs.”

  “By Jove!” Edward grinned. “I hadn’t thought of that. Gives one a poignant sense of revenge, even at this late date.”

  “Wilt thou rejoice?” Nicholas shook his head. “Better we had never been born, to bring such misery into this too-weary world.”

  “Yeah,” said Alec glumly.

  Edward snorted and shook his head. “What good will your sense of guilt do Mendoza? I rather hope she went mad in that place, if it shielded her from the horrors. Perhaps the, what was it? The Crome’s radiation.”

  It don’t always drive people mad, sir, begging yer pardon. I been scanning through Dr. Zeus’s records on Crome generators, the tests they did and all. It bears some looking into, if you take my meaning.

  “Really?” Edward looked intrigued. “You know, it struck me at the time of reading that this might be terribly advantageous. What peculiar abilities might she have? If we were able to make use of that power somehow—”

  “Make use?” Nicholas started up in his seat, clenching his fists. “Was she no more to thee than that?”

  Edward met his rage without flinching. “She is my pearl without price,” he said. “Our masters were the ones who used her like a slave, and then cast her alive into Hell. And are you really going to tell me you wouldn’t like to pay them out for what they did to her? Ah, but you’re a man of God. Christ forbid you’d ever do more than weep and pray over her, whereas I—”

  Nicholas struck out with his fist. Edward leaped up, blocking the blow with one hand while producing a virtual pistol from thin air with the other. He froze a second, astonished at what he’d done, and Nicholas seized his wrist. He strained to force it backward, groping for Edward’s throat with his other hand. Alec stared in disbelief as the Captain roared, STAND TO! Ye bloody idiot fratricides! Edward, drop that gun!

  “Not a chance, Machine,” said Edward, as he struggled to aim. “Aren’t you proud of me, summoning this on my own? If it’s made out of the same stuff as Nicholas and I, I should think it ought to kill him, shouldn’t you? It’s certainly worth a try.”

  “Are you crazy?” Alec shouted, scrambling to his feet and adding his grip to Nicholas’s. He focused on the pistol, deleting it. Edward snarled and sank down into his seat. Nicholas drew back with visible effort, hands trembling with the need to throttle something.

  Nicholas, sit down! And you, Cleverdick, you think you’ve stolen a march on old Captain Morgan? We’ll see how many pistols you can bring out of cyberspace when yer so full of tranquilizers you can’t stand up.

  “You can’t drug me without drugging Alec, too,” Edward gloated. “And if I’ve learned the trick of it, there’s nothing to stop me conjuring up any weapon I please, is there, Machine?”

  “Stop it,” Alec said. “What do you think Mendoza would do, if she saw you trying to kill Nicholas? She loved him. She even loved you! And how’s she ever going to be happy again, anyway, after what she’s been through? Don’t you think we ought to worry about that first?”

  There was a silence as the three men regarded each other sullenly.

  “Point taken,” Edward muttered.

  Thank you so much, yer lordship! It’s about time somebody thought of the lady’s feelings. We got worse problems, anyway.

  “You think she’s gone mad, then?” said Edward.

  I wouldn’t like to say, sir; but, technically speaking, you have.

  “Damn your insolence!”

  No, sir, hear me out. You all three see each other clear enough, but only Alec’s got an actual physical body, which is the only one she’ll be able to see. D’ye get my meaning? If she was to hear the three of you arguing amongst yerselves when it’s Alec’s mouth doing all the talking—

  “Good God!” Edward put his head in his hands. “She’ll think he’s a lunatic.”

  “But what remedy, Spirit?” Nicholas said.

  I reckon you’ll need to let Alec do all the talking. He’s the one she’d be expecting to see, if she expects anything. As far as she knows, you two are dead.

  “But I would have begged her pardon on my knees,” said Nicholas in agony. “I would have told her I am with her still! Shall I have no voice?”

  If you can tell her through Alec, maybe. Look here, gentlemen: ever since the two of ye popped into my boy’s life, I’ve been saying ye were all the same fellow. Ye got on well enough when I had ye under sedation, so it’s plain ye can do it. Ye might think about sharing quarters now and again, instead of insisting on yer own bodies and clothes and the like. Just see what it’s like to be Alec.

  “But I’m not Alec,” said Edward. “Thank God.”

  “I wouldn’t want to be you, either,” Alec retorted, turning to scowl at him.

  Belay that! All right, ye miserable lubbers, have yer brawls now. Ye damned well won’t be able to once she’s awake. And ye might remember she loved all three of ye the same; and ye might grant the lady her good sense.

  “She will not see me. I’ll be no more than a shadow kissing her,” Nicholas groaned. “Oh, Spirit. I had a girl in a garden once, and there was Paradise, and the more fool I for leaving it. Look thou love her, Alec!”

  They did not drift, but tacked with purpose here and there across the face of whatever ancient globe they presently inhabited. Obscure headlands emerged from fog, or rose on far horizons wearing high caps of cloud. The Captain Morgan lurked offshore, or threaded shallow mazy inlets where her masts loomed over oak trees. She cruised along coasts of white cities, or swampy stick-villages, or wastes of painfully bright sand.

  There were supplies to be obtained, when the Captain would send Billy Bones and Flint ashore by night to plunder fields or shuttered market stalls. There were storms to outrun. There were fleets of triremes, corsairs, and savages to avoid. All potential high adventure of the sort Alec had imagined when he first thought of owning a time machine, and now he wasn’t even remotely interested in it.

  The sound of the heartbeat had continued, strong now and never slowing, like dance music in another room. Though the Captain no longer broadcast it, they heard it even in their sleep. The perfume of the bioregenerant was heavy in the air, driving them nearly mad with longing.

  Since Edward had managed it once already with a gun, at the Captain’s suggestion Alec offered to teach Edward and Nicholas how create less objectional virtual items on their own. Nicholas tried once or twice, failed and gave it up. Edward seemed unable to repeat his success with the gun but kept at it doggedly, though Alec—who had never analyzed just what he was doing when he pulled things from cyberspace, and so had no way to describe it—was a fairly poor teacher.

  “Look, you must know how really,” he said in exasperation, leaning back in the booth. “You made the damn gun come out of nowhere. And anyway, you’ve got the same brain as me, yeah?”

  “Infinitely better, I should hope,” said Edward, focusing his gimlet stare on a real ashtray in which he was attempting to materialize a lit virtual cigar.

  “Oh, piss off! If you’re so smart why can’t you do it, then?”

  Nicholas, sitting beside them, closed his eyes and wished desperately he could close his ears as well.

  I know, lad, I know. It be a tedious business, hearing them quarrel, the Captain told him silently. Startled, he opened his eyes, but Alec and Edward were so busy snarling at each other they didn’t notice.

  Fear not; I can speak in thine ear when I will. Wilt thou not try thy hand at Edward’s game again? Or what may I fetch for thee, lad? More books?

  Two yards of hempen rope, if that were enough to hang a ghost, said Nicholas, closing his eyes again.

  Ah, now, son, thou mustn’t get to thinking like that.

  Must I not? What harm, Spirit? There’s no Heaven I may be denied
thereby, nor no Hell to gape for the likes of me neither, save what I myself made. Thou saw’st that place my sin was author to, and what my lady suffered there.

  We got to have a parley about causality one of these days, Nick. Out of all them hundreds of steps it took to make Dr. Zeus mighty, thou wert only the first. There’s a thousand more folk whose guilt is worse, lad. Bloody hell, look thou at our Edward here, and what he done!

  Small comfort in that, Spirit. Nicholas opened his eyes and gave a sullen smile. What say’st thou, is it not likeliest we are none but Antichrist himself? Made in the Last Days by wicked men, in a mockery of God. Wherefore did they take such pains the boy should be born of a virgin? And with a triparted soul to boot.

  Aw, now, lad, you ain’t any such a thing. I’ll grant thee Edward’s a real bastard, but even he tried to do what he thought was right his whole life.

  Ay, Spirit, and see what came of his labors! And mine. When I was most certain of my way, there was I most in error. Nicholas watched, apathetic, as Edward assumed various conjurer’s postures in his attempts to make a cigar appear. I did no thing that was not from vaunting pride, save only to love Rose, and see how I brought her to ruin. Shall I make her amends now? But what will she want with me? I have no flesh that I may embrace her; I wasted it in flame. If she can love still after what she hath endured, who should have her heart but thine Alec, Spirit? And he’s but a fool.

  Aw, now, my boy’s smarter than you think.

  But he is doomed. Innocent blood’s upon his head, and no other woman will have him now, so he must take my Rose to be his love. What’s in his heart but selfish need? Nicholas looked broodingly across at Alec, who was chortling at Edward’s expression of frustrated rage. And Edward’s a monster, Spirit. He loves what she is; but her soul he loveth not. He will offer her usefulness up to that void he serves. I know it. I meant to do the same, though it was God I served and not Science. Poor Rose . . .

  At the least there might be a way to tell her yer sorry for what you done.

  There’s balm indeed for my sick heart. Nicholas sighed and put his head in his hands.

  Whyn’t I fetch thee thy Scripture to study some more?

  To what end? What may I learn therein? Where was God’s infinite mercy in Rose’s prison, Spirit?

  Damned if I know, boy; I’m a machine, remember? I was hoping you could figure it out so my Alec will—

  “There!” said Edward, striking the table with his palm. “There, by God. I told you I could—” He halted, scowling, staring through the rising plume of virtual cigar smoke at Alec. “Wait a minute! Was that you?”

  “No,” said Alec, looking too innocent.

  “That was you, wasn’t it?”

  “No! I swear.”

  “You bloody little liar!”

  “Oh, piss off!”

  “Jesu Christ!” Standing up to seize control, Nicholas slapped the ashtray and its virtual contents across the room. Both Alec and Edward jumped and stared at him.

  As the days passed they grew more nervous, more despondent and quarrelsome; increasingly they found themselves in the infirmary, peering into the hyperbaric chamber. At last they took to sleeping in the infirmary, though the single bed seemed cramped and awkward for them. Finally Alec ordered their meals served there. The last three days they never left the room at all, with its perfumed and glowing atmosphere, its steady heartbeat pulsing.

  “The poetry of John Donne, eh?” Edward remarked, peering over Nicholas’s shoulder at the screen of the text plaquette. “Bravo. Can it be possible we’ve weaned you from the gospels?”

  Nicholas scowled and drew his elbows up on his chest, pulling the plaquette closer to his face. “He was canon of St. Paul’s,” he informed Edward. Edward fell back laughing.

  “You were reading To His Mistress Going to Bed,” he said. “You canting hypocrite! I’ve always rather admired him, myself. You might have been another Donne, if you hadn’t had that unfortunate tendency to martyrdom.”

  “If you hit him, you’ll just pitch all three of us off the bed,” Alec advised Nicholas in a resigned voice. “Ignore it.”

  “I was complimenting Nicholas, you ignoramus,” Edward told him. “Though I suppose you can’t help what you are, any more than he can. Thank God one of us was born during an enlightened time.”

  “There is no end to thy pride, is there, devil?” said Nicholas and sighed.

  “I was born in modern times too, you creep!” protested Alec.

  “Ah! But not in an enlightened time,” Edward said. “You were born during what I’d term the Third Age of Technology.”

  “Oh, man, you’re going to lecture us again, aren’t you?” Alec moaned.

  “Why shouldn’t I?” countered Edward. “God knows you need the instruction, and it’s not as though we’ve anything better to do.”

  “I was reading,” said Nicholas icily.

  “To be sure, you were. I won’t keep you from your guilty pleasures, then,” said Edward. Nicholas glared at him and turned his attention to the text plaquette. There followed a sullen silence of about thirty seconds before Alec asked:

  “Okay, Deadward, why’s it the third age of technology? What’s that mean?”

  “I shall ignore your infantile humor and will be happy to explain, since you’ve inquired,” said Edward condescendingly. “I have formulated a theory of cycles of development in the history of mankind. They repeat in ever-expanding patterns, producing ages of Technology, Faith, and Reason.”

  “Oh, that’s crap.”

  “No, it isn’t. Technology was the first age, when primordial Man crawled from his dark shelter and discovered that by the simple expedient of striking flints in various ways he could provide himself with both fire and weapons,” Edward said. “Will you grant me that?”

  “Okay,” said Alec grudgingly. “And?”

  “And so the brute beast found himself, as it were, master of his universe. He had, of course, no idea of any consequences. He simply forged ahead, lighting fires and making spears, as fast as his clumsy hands could go. The result was, potentially, a greater lifespan for Man, but new and terrible responsibilities which he utterly ignored,” said Edward.

  “Nowadays you’re supposed to say Humanity, you know. There were women back then, too,” Alec told him.

  “Allow me my metaphor, if you please,” snapped Edward. “To continue: over the ages, the consequences of Technology did begin to make themselves evident to primitive Man. Fires, and bloodier warfare, prompted fear in his dim mind. With so much death in evidence, it was impossible not to wonder about his own inevitable demise. This prompted shamans to caper about and pretend their ancestors were giving them advice on the problem, and so was born the First Age of Faith.”

  “And everybody went to Hell?” said Alec. Nicholas snorted.

  “Not at all. Religion’s quite useful, at a certain level. It provides a notion of moral behavior and, as such, is the origin of ethics,” said Edward, steepling his fingers. “It is, at least, a system of thought, if it doesn’t degrade into mysticism. It got Man’s attention away from how he might more effectively spear his neighbor long enough to allow Civilization to begin.”

  “So you’re saying religion’s a good thing?”

  “I say nothing of the kind! It’s a tool, like the flint, and as such is nothing but potential. Whether it is used to good or evil effect depends on Man, the user,” said Edward seriously.

  “Okay.” Alec nodded. “I’ll agree with you on that.”

  “I will not,” muttered Nicholas.

  “Weren’t you reading? In any case, Order took form out of Chaos, and pure rational thought, Man’s highest achievement, leapt into existence!” said Edward with relish. “It attained its fullest expression amongst the classical Greeks, but the Romans applied it with the greatest effectiveness. Systematically and logically they spread Civilization throughout the known world, to a degree that was not equaled for a thousand years.”

  “The Romans were
vile and depraved,” said Nicholas, setting the text plaquette aside.

  “They became so,” Edward agreed. “They discarded the disciplines that had made them strong. With no moral code informing their lives, life became meaningless. This coincided with what one might call the Second Age of Technology. The superior engineering skills, the advances in metallurgy, all the tremendous and brilliant machine of their empire roared along with no purpose other than serving the appetite of its creators, who had no thought for the inescapable consequences any more than brute Man with his flints had.”

  “Well?” said Alec. “So what happened?”

  “The judgment of God came on Rome,” said Nicholas.

  “Absurd! Rome fell because of errors in its judgment,” Edward argued heatedly. “Without rational guidance the great machine destroyed itself, and so followed the Second Age of Faith.”

  “The Dark Ages of Christianity, right?” said Alec. Nicholas turned to him with an expression of outrage and Edward snickered. “It’s true,” Alec insisted. “And it wasn’t just Christianity. Islam happened, too. All those people beheaded and burned at the stake over nothing, man.”

  “Ay. Nothing,” Nicholas agreed sullenly. “Sacrifices offered up to a God of bestial cruelty. Yet even so, in that Dark Age, who but Christ’s disciples had thy precious Civilization in their keeping? Who but they, and the Jew, and the Moor with his Koran, made books and schools, lest that Aristotle become a mute ghost? It was Faith sustained knowledge.”

  “And sold men pieces of the True Cross,” said Edward slyly. “And pretended to work miracles with bits of chicken bone. Charlatans feeding on ignorance! You denounced it yourself. You and Erasmus and Luther and all the rest who finally had the courage to use the damned brains God gave ’em!”