by Travis Borne
They took some time as if time could go to hell. Herald’s and Ana’s faces grew in size, as well their smiles. Nearer. Nearer. Both were teary eyed. Slowly, they drifted to the grand magnifying glass in the ceiling. Amy merely nodded to Blaire and their gravity fell away too; she and Jim, holding hands likewise, pushed off and floated toward the ceiling, in awe. Herald and Ana were as young as two twenty-somethings! Ana’s lips said: I love you, Amy, and she blew her daughter a kiss.
Her mom’s birthmark was again a mark of beauty, not withered, cracking, and bleeding, and she had on a casual lime top and cut-off jean shorts. Her father had on brown cargo shorts and a white T-shirt under an open, long-sleeved sky-blue button shirt. Their hair said youth, with style! Amy smiled and shook her head like she knew it all along; her eyes were flooded as if her doubts had just passed the ultimate tribulation; and her smile was a balloon being blown up by an alien who’d never tried a balloon, and it was ready to pop. Herald opened his arms and gave the both of them—he looked to Amy, then Jim—a virtual hug.
“How?” Amy asked.
Herald read her lips and responded, “Later on that.” Then he put a hushing finger to his lips and pointed down at the Earth with the other. He shook his head slowly, with the finger still there, and they both knew what he meant. Next, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a paper and a pen and jotted something down.
“We must be quiet, VERY quiet,” the note said. He took it back and wrote something else then put it to the glass: a sequence of about sixty characters—symbols unlike anything anyone knew, except Amy. She remembered every precise detail as if she possessed a machine mind, every lesson her father had ever taught her. And she was the only one who knew how to read that code. Like a compressed file, Herald’s short chunk of code contained train loads of information. Upon finishing the last character on the third line Amy’s eyes bulged like two balloons being squeezed.
Herald’s lips moved again. He commanded something to the systems of his ship; he and Ana floated gently back to the floor. Ana blew another kiss and waved goodbye. Jim waved with a confused look on his face. Amy simply nodded as did her father, and the gaze into each other’s eyes, again telling time to fuck off, spoke love, love because they were father and daughter, love because they had spent an eternity together, love because they each had the utmost respect for one another—father to daughter, daughter to father—a deep penetrating gaze where two sets of eyes said: we did it, but now we must hurry, we must be quiet, in and out, forthwith, and quickly!
Amy nodded to Blaire who was always right on top of things. Like feathers, she and Jim returned to the floor. Tears weighted the edges of the dams that were both Jim’s and Amy's eyelids. Jim’s fell; Amy wiped hers and stood up straight as her feet touched the floor. She put her shoulders back, took in a breath of resolve, determination, and faith in her purpose and ability, and looked up one final time. Her parents’ ship was leaving. Ana was waving, her father focused on his mission now. Amy walked to her panel as if she was made of steel, and started typing. She dictated with her mouth and her fingers moved so fast they became a blur, and the systems went bright as if she was achieving a direct interface. Slowly, Jim put his hands on her shoulders and she stopped momentarily.
Amy looked up and into Jim’s saltwater blues and said, “We must hurry now, my love, we have less than one hour.”
120. Scribbles
Amy and Jim floated toward the Jewel of the Desert, undetected by the powerful system that was Martin or the outer defense ships speeding along like ghosts, occasionally sending out red zaps. From space the area looked like the virtually translucent skin of some phantasm moon bubble half floating in Saturn’s gas. She pushed on the yoke. The space-jet’s nose fell forward like a needle going into cotton and Amy flew it on manual, right into the heart: Jewel City.
“Wow,” Amy said. Jim too, but silently with an agape jaw; it was the first time he’d seen any of the cities. While he was shocked by the sheer size and scope of this one city, Amy was in awe of the changes to it. It looked as if the builders had been unleashed—and had been pulling serious overtime! Whirling paths spiraled up and about, paralleling the wall near the top. A lookout tower with a movable central platform towered almost as high as the broadcast needle, and a massive gate had been constructed—a pathway to the outside. A few were strolling leisurely about the top of the wall, others were lying on blankets in the park or just cruising along the sidewalks. An old blue pickup truck was near where once had been the massive scrap pile, the hood was up and a woman and a man were working on it together. The lending facility was wide open, too.
The sight of the space-jet’s grand, silent presence made everyone stop what they were doing. Fingers at the end of raised arms, pointed. Jaws fell as if a counterweight had hooked itself to chins. And Amy and Jim took ’er in, landing in the park. She parked it right next to a hover-jet, which in comparison to the space-jet, was like a toy car to a real one.
They headed to the back of the bridge and took the elevator to the front dock. It opened to astonished citizens. Holding hands, the real Amy and the real Jim, not merely a virtual presence within an enormous mind-meld contrivance from another dimension, stepped out from the brightly lit bay area. They were really and truly there!
Ten minutes ago…
Amy had told Jim, at least partially, what the information in her dad’s small note contained. And Jim realized what was at stake, they had some explaining to do, as well convincing.
The sixty handwritten symbols packed a punch. Q was on his way and his arrival—various, unblocked ships—would trigger the machine-world’s greatest weapon, be it ready or not. The note was a final token of knowledge: Amy’s final lesson, and the truth. The true, prodigious power of the machine world; it said simply: the evolving failsafe now has the ability to nudge existence at the lowest possible levels of entropy, on this three-dimensional plane.
Just as Herald had been able to do, briefly but substantially during his last and most grand rescue attempt, the machines were doing it in a broader, more comprehensive manner. While Herald, with extraordinary assistance, had harnessed the power of the other tiers, and consciousness itself—in ways unfathomable to all but himself, the other anomalies, and now, to a still-blossoming degree, Amy—in a highly dynamic way, the machines were manipulating much, much more.
“The universe—is alive, Jim,” Amy had said, and she’d continued to shine the light on her husband while they crept toward Earth’s surface.
Through the machine world—referred to by Herald as Failsafe Ultimate, shortly just FS1—one way or another it was going to pull off the wipe, cleansing the sector. FS1 was the newest, therefore most ultimate failsafe currently evolved within the universe. Its power was beyond all else and all failsafes before it. The machines, working diligently and instinctually, plodded on doing what was necessary, what they felt was their ultimate mission and purpose. Unlike life as known by humans, throughout and in which one’s purpose was to live on and survive, the machines’ purpose, just another cog in the grand scheme, was to destroy and die—and they were getting exceptionally good at sealing breaches, making sure none escaped the maw that would soon suck its final suck.
“Those little scribbles say all that?” Jim queried, while they floated nearer, sneaking ever so quietly while purposing the new blocker algorithm Amy had just created on the fly. She’d hacked the newer, more clever detection techniques that had been about to discover the ship.
“Jim, the note’s scribbles were…” Amy said, hesitating, swaying the ship gently as Jewel City came into view, “…a reveal of our worst nightmare. I’m sorry to tell you this, but we cannot stay. The machines, even with our blocker and my recently programmed upgrades, know, or will know, of our arrival. The reason my dad and I had to leave so quickly after the last rescue, the reason we could not purpose this space-jet for the last rescue and really should not be using it right now—the machine world, FS1, is now manipulating reality itself. If
we stay for more than one hour our chances of being trapped forever become inevitable. FS1 is employing stolen consciousness, two decades of scans, in ways none living can fathom—just as we’d used lent versions, and the printed Amy’s release upon death, to briefly fight the nature of this three-dimensional plane in order to rescue the last humans who could be rescued.” She put her hand on his; Jewel City was now an expanding, growing bubble in their viewport. “We cannot rescue your brother, or the others. It just isn’t possible now. Unless, by some miracle the last printed Jim, along with the others who had stayed, somehow managed to do it. But, as I just finished explaining, if he had been able to, then FS1 must’ve allowed it for one reason or another—just like they have allowed Jewel City to endure for this long. A trap, Jim. The machines must want something.”
Jim shook his head. “There must be a way. Herald said—”
“My father knows well of what the machine world is capable. They will figure it out, realize that we are here, then detonate. We must rescue the citizens below and leave quickly—within the hour. My recent coding efforts will hide us but won’t, can’t, last beyond that.”
“Then to where are Herald and Ana going? Perhaps he’s going to try—”
“To rescue those in the bunker. Vallecito.”
“And the others we saw?”
As Herald had pulled away, they saw eight other ships to their aft, just hovering in space. Marvelous and grand, Amy knew them better than Jim, as she had been allowed within the circle of her father’s ultimate trust, a trust that now, she realized had been brought forth part by part, little by little, all for this moment. She had made it! And because of her choice, many others might still have a chance.
“They’re standing guard,” Amy said. “The other anomalies, now freed from their paradoxes like my mother and father. The note of sixty characters contained as much information as a dictionary and I don’t have time to explain how that is possible, but you must believe me.”
“I do, Amy.” Jim appeared as if he was going to cry again but sucked it up. “I was just hoping…I mean he did say, ‘Let’s go get your brother.’ I wanted to save him, but if we absolutely cannot…” Amy looked at him and shook her head slowly, their hands still together. “…then it will be best that his consciousness be finally free from the pain.”
His last words weighed on her. Amy could bear to say no more, to let Jim in on the fact that Jerry and the others would be wiped from existence, that all who’ve interacted with him in any way will continue to have memories of being both in his company once upon a time, and not. The coming end would create a new block-chain in the reality on this plane and everyone tied to it, one that happened, but didn’t just the same. They’d live on, but Jerry and the others would truly and thoroughly be—wiped.
The lenders and remaining citizens of Jewel City gathered quickly, some running in from the restaurants, aft of the ship, others taking paths from the top of the wall down. Amy opened her mouth as soon as she saw before her and Jim all who’d chosen to stay, but before a single word crept out she spotted him. Could it really be? She knew this was someone else who hadn't been with the others who’d elected to remain, and beside him was a bot, same height, but thin with smooth features, one seemingly generating images on his outer, pliable shell.
The only two she didn’t recognize. But the man caught her eye—and stole her breath. He was a strong, good-looking Spanish man with wavy, thick dark hair, and brown eyes like those of someone she had once known, but it was the thin mustache that piqued her most distant memories. “Rafael?” Amy said, instead of her greetings or explanations. He stepped forward.
“Amy,” he said. “It’s wonderful to see you, how you’ve grown. Yes, it is I. This—” He waved his hands along his new body, clothed in a classic and clean Spaniard outfit: a baggy-sleeved white button shirt with the top few buttons undone, tucked into black slacks topped by a thick black and gold belt. “—was a gift from some very special friends.” He opened his arms; she ran and jumped on him, just like she used to do when she was three, almost four.
“Rafael!” She squeezed, and he felt real! He was warm as if he had a real human heart pumping in his chest, and he smelled just like the memory currently unfolding in her mind: clean as an alpine forest with a hint of crayons, and spaghetti sauce as if he’d been preparing dinner! He was an uncle, a friend, a part of her family. “I knew it was you,” she said, as she pulled away, “and it looks like you won’t need me to draw your mustaches now.” She giggled. “I’d ask how, how it can be possible, but then—” She stood back, looking at him, smiling brightly, hands on her hips.
“I suppose we both have a lot of catching up to do,” Rafael said. “How I’ve missed you, and—” He thought of Herald, Ana, choking on emotions currently tickling him. But he knew it was coming. Rafael took a breath and let out some levity, “Nice hair by the way.” And Rafael employed his real face, smiling, letting the emotions pour out just as he’d so longed to do. He then nodded to the man behind her. “Jim, nice to finally meet you, sir.” He shook Jim’s hand with a solid grip, one returned to him equally as strong.
After short but potent greetings went round they explained everything to the citizens right then and there, as much as could be told in the short time period. Then everyone boarded. Steve, who’d accompanied Rafael from the bunker in Vallecito, folded the wings on the hover-jet and loaded it into the space-jet’s rear bay. Rafael took the items he’d brought from the bunker, out of the facility; Felix and the others would have to wait for now. And the elements of their earliest of plans: creating an army of genetically modified beasts fifty feet tall, dinosaurs, apes, birds, and humans twice the size of Abell, all reverse employing the minds of dream characters from within a map—all abruptly canceled. Martin, Ted, Rico, and those highest ranking, were the first allowed into a place none had ever been, Herald’s circle of knowledge. Even Felix was told everything, and he relayed word to the citizens of Old Town. The systems of Jewel City were uploaded into the space-jet and every item that could serve a future purpose was stowed away. Within the hour they took to the sky.
The outer perimeter defense ships would continue until the buffer was finally depleted once and for all. Martin agreed to stay behind, as well only one other, Nanny. Fran wouldn’t leave her alone so also decided to remain. Only the two of them had flown back with Rafael and Steve, all others had remained in the Vallecito bunker; Nanny and Fran had said only, they wanted to go home, then stay there, and now they agreed on making the greatest sacrifice for all others, to give the space-jet ample time so it could escape what was coming. Once FS1 realized there had been an escape, it would detonate as a last-ditch effort.
The space-jet rose up and joined with the anomalies, anomalies who had been set free. Herald and Ana arrived with their space-jet full of toddlers to teens, and bots who had become unique, each in their own way, as well their friends who had put themselves second once upon a time, in the name of hope, hope for a family and a sliver of a life in the real world, and hope for a planet that had been so good to them, and humanity…once upon a time.
121. Trumpets Blared
The ships came together, then snuck away from planet Earth. And tears fell. In knowing what was next, funereal hugs went round and persons lined the mid-levels, gazing upon it, even until it was just a tiny, pale, blue and white glimmering speck. As they passed Jupiter, then the orbit of Saturn, planet unseen and never to be seen again, the ships sped up. Eventually, even the sun was just another dot among a sea of embers, however, one that shown brighter with the warmest yellow, most beautifully, and it mesmerized hundreds of eyes, be they human, bot, or belonging to beings from other worlds. Herald commanded full stop.
Ten ships formed an arc: a salute, a tribute to Earth and the entire solar system in which it resided.
“This is it,” Herald said. Somehow, he felt it in his bones. He stood before the HAT on the bridge, Ana holding his arm, and he knew she felt it too. He could see Amy o
n one of the many screens rounding the upper crown of the bridge. She stood tall, shoulders back, head up, with Jim at her side. “Patch me through,” Herald said, “to every ship.”
Behind Herald and Ana stood Lia and Abell, and Alex and Trixie. Hal had a special place, and at Herald’s left was Jon, dutifully, his face beaming a humble glow. Obviously, he was happy to be in the company of his best friend again. But every face was somber just the same.
Maggie stood with her husband Red, and Manny with Blanca, on the mid-level of Herald’s ship. Winter, Madison, and Isaac as well; they all accompanied the children before a grand glass window. And poised were bots of all types, each unique in appearance and personality, yet no differently sharing concern, grief, and emotion.
On Amy’s ship, Rafael, human-like in every way conceivable, crossed his arms; he stood to Amy’s left, next to Steve. Rafael nodded to Herald and Ana who filled one screen; Herald returned a warm gaze upon him, and a smile that delivered memories to Rafael’s new spine, memories that traversed from beginning to end: countertop to cold basement of a Rocky Mountain cabin, to here, in distant outer space, beyond even Solitarion and Ternus; the rush of thoughts went into his head like a charge from super-conducting jumper cables.
Ted had Amy’s right. Ron, Devon, and the twins manned the helm. Rico had a seat to the far left.
Rob Price accompanied Bertha, the lenders, and others on the mid-levels. Alone in spirit, Rob held himself together as best he could. Likewise, Amanda, near him. She tried her best to both stand and contain her tears—not doing a good job of either. And Jess was there, standing as tall as she could muster, her green eyes raining tears; she didn’t completely understand, but knew her Jim had been left behind.
