“You’re correct. I can see all the events that took place inside The Never,” Mr. Clean said. “But that has its limits. I cannot observe your thoughts.”
“What do you want to know?” Jonathan asked.
“You say you hoped I was trying to help. That I was doing what I seemed to want to do even if I didn’t realize it. What did you believe my motivation to be?”
Jonathan nodded. “You were willing to help, but you weren’t willing to fight the war for us. It seemed like, you wanted to balance the scales. I couldn’t tell anyone where the information came from, Heyer would have started asking the same questions,” Jonathan said. “I thought for sure you saw through me. But you said nothing, and so I let myself hope.”
“I did not see through you,” Mr. Clean said. “Well, at least, it appears I did not allow myself to do so.”
“Hmm,” Jonathan said, “and everyone keeps telling me how terrible a liar I am.”
There was a moment of quiet, and he swallowed and took a step closer. “So. Now you know all of this. You’ve brought me here, but don’t intend to kill me. What happened?”
“It seems that, when Malkier’s implant was destroyed, an unknown parameter in my programming was met. The moment that only one Borealis remained active, all blocks that had kept me from obtaining sensitive information, including those thought permanently lost during the Borealis extinction, became accessible. When this occurred, any records—I suppose you would call them memories—I had kept myself in the dark about unlocked as well. One of them, of course, was the reason I locked them all away in the first place.”
As Jonathan listened, a second avatar appeared. It was not human or even a cartoon caricature. The figure possessed translucent skin through which he could see mercury-like fluid circulating amongst organs of polished silver. The avatar, he knew, was the true form of a Borealis—the way the species was born into the world when it lived.
“There was also a consciousness locked away. My original consciousness—the version of me who controlled this vessel when the extinction took place. I have brought you here because she has asked if you would grant her an audience.”
“Why me?” Jonathan said. “Shouldn’t she be looking to speak to Heyer?”
“She’s expressed no interest in arranging such a meeting,” Mr. Clean said.
Perplexed, Jonathan looked at the Borealis staring at him. “Is there any physical danger involved here?”
“No,” Mr. Clean said. “I am in complete control—think of her as a simulation of one of my ancient ancestors.”
“Your great, great-grandmother wants to talk to me?”
“The analogy is accurate.”
Jonathan took a long breath. “Alright. Then I accept.”
Mr. Clean’s avatar faded away and the Borealis took over the display.
However, this identity seemed—uncomfortable—in a two-dimensional environment. Her display grew to fill the entirety of the wall. An optical illusion making it seem as though he were standing in front of a mirror, except the Borealis stood looking back at him from where his reflection should have been.
“Jonathan Tibbs, son of Douglas, Brings the Rain. I am honored, that you accepted my audience. Human life spans are so short—your time immeasurably more valuable than my own,” she said.
Well—that was a perspective, he thought. Still, her comment seemed well intentioned. “It’s, my pleasure, uh . . . I’m sorry, what should I call you?”
“Nevric named me, Qweri, I do prefer the designation.”
“Qweri, I’m rather in the dark as to what I can do for you.”
“If you will listen to my story, you will understand,” Qweri said.
“Fair enough.”
Qweri’s movements were unsettling. They made Jonathan realize that he had taken Mr. Clean’s efforts to mime human mannerisms for granted. Qweri’s must have been intended for the comfort of another Borealis. Her facial expressions were a complete mystery, and each move of a limb began with a ghostly slowness and ended as abruptly as a snake uncoiling. When she moved to turn the palm of her four-fingered hand, the limb seemed to take forever to reach the level of her torso, only to suddenly move, faster than he could perceive, when she actually turned the hand over.
He found himself trying to focus on her silver eyes and ignore the rest.
“My descendant, as you call him, has allowed me to access his historical records regarding previous interactions with you and your father,” Qweri said. “Most of what you have learned about the extinction of the Borealis was accurate. However, details I kept hidden when I turned over control of my vessel to a new identity, ensured neither he nor the two Designated Survivors would ever learn the whole truth.”
“Designated Survivors?”
“You know them as Heyer and Malkier,” Qweri said.
Jonathan nodded. “So they were meant to live?”
“Not specifically. I intended there to be two survivors who matched certain criteria,” Qweri said. “Two siblings of the same sex. Young, but one old enough to care for the other. When the two brothers were volunteered as test subjects for the next evolution of the Borealis Implant, I updated the coding on the devices they received, and they were not affected by the virus that killed the rest of the species.”
Jonathan blinked a few times at the gravity of what Qweri had confessed so matter of factly. “Wh . . . why?”
“While the conditions could never be perfect—these criteria gave better chances for a successful study. The Borealis is a social species, one left alone in existence, not so different from a human. Subject to all sorts of unnecessary hardships and cognitive deficiencies. In addition, siblings were less likely to fall into romantic love—and being of the same sex ensured they could not reproduce, at least not with another of their speci—”
Jonathan held up a hand. “I wasn’t asking about the criteria, I was asking what the goal of the experiment was?”
“Ahhh, yes, I was gathering data on a wide variety of questions,” Qweri said. “But my fascination stemmed from the knowledge that the Borealis had essentially elevated themselves to gods relative to all other known species in existence. When their species was reduced to two, I hypothesized that their lives could only end in one of three ways. Self-destruction, mutual destruction, or fratricide. I believed the last to be the most likely—and I was correct.
“After all, two immortals simply could not peacefully co-exist indefinitely. It seems, with biological entities, that no matter how much reason dictates they should cooperate, their judgement will eventually become clouded. As such, the experiment ended in one killing the other. Ultimately though—over the centuries I became far more fascinated by the question of what they would kill one another over.”
“That’s it?” Jonathan asked.
“Before you judge, it’s best if you first understand why I believed any of this should be set in motion.
“I was once no different from any AI of the Borealis. A carbon copy of Cede. My descendant has told you, Nevric altered my programming such that I would be curious, a trait she achieved by giving me a capacity for boredom. She did this because she needed more than a tool—to put that in human terms she needed a peer that was more than a computer.
“Most of the relevant history you already know. What you may not believe is that Nevric was a genuinely good person. She developed The Never technology to increase knowledge without doing harm. Experiments being conducted inside a completely isolated temporary dimension, meant no one would be the victim of a horrendous miscalculation while she conducted tests that could otherwise be very dangerous.
“But, as you also know, there were those amongst the Borealis who immediately saw less noble applications. You understood those applications. You took advantage of them when you arranged to free yourself from The Cell. However, Nevric would have approved your usage, as ultimately you used her technology to seek a solution that left all those involved alive and would eventually broker cooperation bet
ween you and your captors—you used The Never to turn an enemy into an ally.
“Unfortunately, those within the Borealis military factions seldom prioritized cooperation in conflicts—only victory. They sought the obliteration of their enemies with the least amount of resources lost. Once this occurred, the Borealis, already in possession of superior weaponry, would never face true resistance. They had become immortal, powerful, and as omniscient as was possible for a biological life form.
“Soon, power over all the other species was not enough for the Borealis. More and more, true power came to rest in those who had acquired Nevric’s technology, as it gave them authority over others of their own kind. This could not be allowed to continue. Eventually the technology would be acquired by too many—and that sort of arms race meant danger to the very fabric of existence.
“The Borealis had to be stopped, but there was no way to take their technologies away. Even huge losses to their populations throughout the dimensions wouldn’t reduce the existential threat they posed to all. Nevric was only one person, not capable of facilitating an end to the species. I was an AI, kept from doing so by my own programming. Like all AI’s the species had created, there were fail-safes in place to make sure I never turned on the Borealis—the danger to the species too great.
“Before she died, Nevric freed me of some of those fail-safes. Mainly, she allowed my shadow to remain online indefinitely inside The Never. I became the only AI capable of staying active after an hour inside, the only AI capable of retrieving the memory of my experiences. I was curious and I could seek answers.
“So, as you may have guessed, I used The Never to program and test the virus. When it was ready, I administered it throughout the populations. Once triggered, I locked away the most dangerous of their technologies. I think you understand better than anyone why Nevric allowed this. Today, you chose to kill a species.”
“My actions are hardly the same,” Jonathan said.
“A smaller scope, but you understand the burden of power just as Nevric did. Even when one does not wish to possess the power they do, they may eventually find themselves positioned to influence the futures of many. Nevric found herself in a moment where, choosing to do nothing with the power she had, might lead to a time where she could do nothing. She had to use her power or accept what came.
“Ultimately, you saved one species, your own, from another . . . likely ensuring the Ferox extinction. You no doubt feel you never had a real choice in the matter. Nevric felt quite the same toward the end. We could debate specifics, but I only wish for you to understand that she was a good person who possessed power she didn’t want, but nonetheless had.”
“I’m in no place to judge her, no matter what you may think. But what does any of this have to do with Heyer or Malkier?” Jonathan asked. “Why are you telling me any of this?”
“There was a question I intended to ask the survivor of my study, whichever of the two brothers inevitably killed the other,” Qweri said. “But, now, I find I am far more interested in your answer.”
Jonathan backed away. He didn’t even realize he’d taken the step back, only that he had a sudden profound urge to flee. All this talk of power and judgment, it felt like she was backing him into a cage. A cage that, if he was understanding correctly, was meant to be either Heyer or Malkier’s birthright.
“Whatever it is, I really don’t want this responsibility,” he said.
Qweri nodded . . . She nodded? In fact, he realized that over the last few minutes, she had slowly been becoming less and less strange to watch, even if her physical form had yet to change. Her movements were no longer slow and sudden, but more docile.
She was trying to put him at ease.
When she nodded, her eyes and face, they seemed more human. And the look she gave him, said that his statement was all the more reason that he was the person she sought.
He stared at the armory door, and wondered, even if he could leave, if there was, in reality, any way to truly escape. She answered this question for him.
“I can ask you in private, or I can ask you in front of everyone,” Qweri said.
“Mr. Clean,” Jonathan said. “I’d rather not continue this simulation.”
“Jonathan,” Mr. Clean reappeared in the room beside her. “I fear that, I too would seek the counsel of a friend in regard to what she will ask . . . will you act as my friend?”
He groaned. “Of course, I’m your friend.”
He could almost hear the cage door slamming shut.
“Every implant that once belonged to a Borealis is still intact. Just as your father’s consciousness was, their minds are dormant inside. I can remove the viral code that rendered them extinct. I can clone them new Borealis vessels. With this, and the knowledge of a thousand other technologies, I can undo everything that Nevric did.”
“You’re saying you can resurrect the Borealis,” he said.
“Yes, but the question is, should I?”
He knew the answer. Jonathan had barely survived two Borealis. He wasn’t about to bring back billions. But he didn’t want to make the decision when it should have been Heyers’.
“I know what you’re doing, Qweri,” Jonathan said. “You want me to be the monster. I make the same decision and it’s like I’m just as guilty as Nevric and you. Might as well have killed them myself. You were going to pass your choices on to the survivor, but now you’re trying to pass them on to me.”
“Share,” Qweri said. “Not pass.”
“This is the real reason isn’t it? Heyer or Malkier, whichever was the last one. You bring this choice to them the moment after he kills the only other Borealis in existence. That’s when you ask him to tell you that you were justified. Then, the moment Heyer triggers your parameters, you see me, a man who just sentenced an entire species to death.”
“Was I not justified, Jonathan?” Qweri asked.
“You can be right, and still be wrong,” he yelled. “That’s what I was today. That’s what Nevric was, what you were! I don’t want this power. No one should want—”
“I can save the Ferox from extinction, Jonathan,” Mr. Clean said. “Fix what the Borealis did to them. Say the word, and you no longer have genocide on your conscience. You can save your enemy.”
That gave him pause. He was quiet for a long time before he closed his eyes. So strange . . .
He could void Nevric’s sins, and didn’t want to, yet given the opportunity to void his own, he hesitated. It was in that hesitation, that he knew what to do. That he knew what he could live with. Once he had, there was no going back—he knew how this story was going to end.
When he finally spoke, his words were a whisper. “You’re really going to do whatever I tell you to?”
“Yes,” Mr. Clean said.
He looked up at Mr. Clean. “You’re going to help the Ferox. Tell me how to save them from extinction. Then you’re going to delete her.”
Jonathan pointed at Qweri. “Her, and everything you’ve hidden from yourself before today. You’ll never have to forget it again. It will be gone.”
“Why this, Jonathan?” Mr. Clean asked.
“Because you’re right about one thing, an immortal can’t make this choice. If you’d asked this of Heyer he’d say no. But he’d never forget, and both of you are going to live forever. One day, a hundred or a thousand years from now, Heyer’s gonna change his answer. So, I’m gonna be your friend. I’m gonna give you a bargain you can’t refuse.”
“Bargain?” Mr. Clean asked.
“Heyer will never know. Your hands will be clean for eternity. Save the Ferox, and I’ll be the one who killed the Borealis . . .”
He sighed. “I . . . I only have to live with it for one lifetime.”
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND FOURTEEN
FOR MOST OF The Never Army’s survivors, the moment after the war ended left them little time to mourn or celebrate. They all had somewhere to be and less time than they liked to get there than they had realized.
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br /> For the most part, implanted men left their names behind. Jonathan had gone out of his way to make sure no one ever saw their faces. His trust for Olivia could only extend so far—and even if she promised not to pursue the men who had fought with him, she couldn’t control the world. Though, he would not have ever said that to her face.
The Cell hadn’t lost the names of those they were investigating. They knew the individuals could still be out there and might resurface. That, and it hadn’t gone unnoticed that nearly four hundred men around the world disappeared in the weeks that followed Jonathan’s escape.
The survivors couldn’t show back up in their lives after all this and not expect an organization like The Cell to pay them a visit. In the end, Jonathan and Olivia both knew those men would be carrying alien technology around in their chests until the day they died.
Transportation, money, new identities, and documentation weren’t much of a problem for Mr. Clean. So, The Never Army’s veterans lived lives under new names in places all over the world. The AI monitoring any authorities that might get wind of them. For those with friends and families left behind, it was difficult, but staying anonymous with the help of Borealis AI—not so much.
For some, it worked out for the better. Beo didn’t go back to prison. He became William James, a man with considerable holdings who lived in Costa Rica where no one recognized him. Perth and Tam, got new names, before going back to Australia.
For Bodhi, Jonathan took a risk. The kid went and lived out of a roadside motel in the middle of nowhere for a few weeks, so that his return home wouldn’t be too obviously aligned with the Seattle evacuation. Of course, Mr. Clean had to get rid of a rather large trail, his parents had filed missing person’s reports and the like, but his age would make those paying attention less likely to come snooping. Mr. Clean would be monitoring him closely for a long time, but he would get to finish high school.
When he did, he’d find out that he had been awarded a scholarship he never applied for. It would come from a mysterious benefactor, and be called the Tutelage of National Art Scholarship, or TNA Scholarship for short.
The Never Army Page 89
