by Joseph Rhea
“Little Green Man,” Maya said. “Last month, someone added an extraterrestrial setting to the Omnisuit’s programming, hoping to use it in one of the worlds. It was a really stupid idea.” She turned to face Ceejer. “So, what do you plan to do to us?”
“Why, nothing, my dear,” Ceejer replied. “In fact, I am prepared to let the two of you leave this area unharmed.”
“What about the others?” Alek asked, looking down at the group standing at the base of the pyramid.
“Ah, yes, the others,” Ceejer said, then turned to the nearest Soldier and ordered, “Bring them to me.”
A minute later, Javid, Cloudhopper, Herschel, the two KaNanee, and Persis were standing beside Alek and Maya on top of the pyramid. Ceejer studied each of them, but seemed to ignore Javid.
“The humans and the KaNanee may have some benefit serving as training toys for my guards, but the smaller one I can find no use for. It will therefore be allowed to leave with you.”
Jas Kaido straightened his back. “I am a training toy for no one,” he bellowed.
“Neither am I,” Cloudhopper said.
“Very well, then. You will both be deleted.”
Before either could move, Soldiers grabbed Jas and Cloudhopper by their wrists. The others in the group were quickly subdued as well.
“What about him?” Cloudhopper hissed, nodding his head toward Javid, who was standing silent.
“Sentinels are a part of my original army,” Ceejer said. “He is loyal to me, and always has been.”
All eyes turned toward Javid, who just stood there, calmly staring at nothing.
“Javid, are you okay?” Alek asked.
“I am fine, Alek,” Javid said tight lipped, almost as if the words were being forced out of him. “Understand that I will do you no harm.”
“Why are you talking to this Tan?” Ceejer asked.
“Alek is not a Tan,” Javid replied calmly. “He is a Gray Sentinel and he is helping me to restore the system.” He looked defiantly at Ceejer. “He is helping me defeat the virus that has corrupted you.”
“Corrupted me?” Ceejer asked. “I have done nothing to harm the system.” He pointed a long alien finger at Alek. “This one, however, has deceived you. He has deceived all of you.”
Javid kept his eyes locked on Ceejer. “You are in error,” he said. “Alek has—”
“Deceived you,” Ceejer repeated. He then turned to Alek. “Tell us all who created the intruder? Who created the Cyberphage?”
Alek looked at Javid. “I did, but—”
“Who created the device that destroyed the Sentinels? The device that destroyed Javid’s mate? Who created that as well?”
Alek looked at Maya and then at Cloudhopper. “I’m sorry. I should’ve told you—both of you. My Cyberphage wasn’t actually empty when it was stolen—it was carrying a Panspermia Bomb.” He shook his head. “I honestly didn’t think it was that dangerous and I thought telling you would have just complicated things.”
“You brought this down on all of us,” Cloudhopper said. His face looked cold and unreadable.
“It was Klaxon who put the Predators—”
“Stop talking,” Javid ordered. Alek turned to look at the Sentinel and saw something in his eyes that stopped him cold. Javid was no longer his friend.
“I was in error, Supervisor,” Javid said, bowing formally to Ceejer. He then walked up and handed Ceejer something small.
“What is this?” Ceejer asked.
“A segmented piece of a deletion program that the Tan called Alek was carrying inside him,” he said. “It was his plan to keep the pieces of code separate until they could be used against you.”
“What the hell are you doing?” Alek yelled. “I trusted you.”
Javid looked at Alek for the first time. “And I trusted you,” he said evenly.
Ceejer studied the block. “How many pieces are there?”
“There are 27 pieces,” Javid replied. “Each piece is required for the code to be functional.”
Ceejer looked up at the group. “Either you can hand over the remainder of the code, or I will have my guards take them from you. It is your choice.”
A dozen Soldiers formed a tight circle around them and Alek realized there was no use in fighting it. “Give them your code pieces,” he said to the others.
“We will give them nothing,” Kay Broon said, baring her teeth and snarling.
“My mate and I will die before we surrender anything to these monsters,” Jas Kaido added.
“Easily done,” Ceejer said, waving to the nearest Soldier.
“Stop,” Alek yelled, and then turned to the two KaNanee. “Give it to them. It’s not worth dying for.”
One by one, they each reluctantly handed their small blocks to the Soldiers, who in turn, handed them to Ceejer. Alek watched the supervisor turn the glowing blocks repeatedly in its hands.
“Did you really think me such a fool?” Ceejer asked. “Oh, I’m sure you had some sort of elaborate plan to get me to put these blocks back together, or perhaps one of you would have sacrificed himself—or herself—to do the job.” He then nonchalantly tossed one of the blocks onto the ground next to one of the Soldiers. The creature lifted a leg and crushed it under its foot. “I’m afraid that you will have to come up with another plan to defeat me,” Ceejer added.
He tossed the remainder of the now-useless blocks at Alek’s feet, then turned and walked away. Javid silently turned and followed him. Together they disappeared down what looked like an elevator built into the roof of the pyramid.
Before Alek could wonder where Ceejer was taking Javid, he saw a bright dot appear on the horizon. As it grew, he realized what it was.
“That’s our Survey Vessel,” Maya said.
“And Klaxon’s on board,” Alek added.
“Who is this Klaxon?” Cloudhopper asked.
“Lorena,” Alek replied, but then remembered that Maya had not yet told the security chief the remainder of Lorena’s story. “Lorena was the woman in the coffee shop who stole my Cyberphage and started all of this.”
Cloudhopper looked at the approaching ship. “It appears that there was deceit from many players,” he said as the huge saucer-shaped vessel approached. Just as it reached their position, it slowed and came to a stop directly above them. It then began lowering and came to a full stop when the underside was about five meters above their heads.
There was a faint humming sound as the lower stage of the landing bay began to drop toward them. A lone figure, presumably Klaxon, stood at the edge looking down at them. She was wearing an Omnisuit with some sort of wrap-around helmet covering her face. When the stage reached the top of the pyramid, she stepped off and walked directly over to Alek, stopping less than two meters away.
As she and Alek stood silently facing each other, he realized that it couldn’t be Klaxon after all. Judging by the size and shape of the form-fitting suit, the person wasn’t even a woman. The figure spoke a word into his wrist and the helmet began to dissolve back into the Omnisuit, revealing the face of the man inside. Alek stood there, dumbfounded, and unable to speak.
“It’s good to see you again, son,” Mathew Grey said.
SEVENTEEN
In complete shock and unable to speak, Alek took an awkward step backward. His father countered by taking a step toward him. He then reached out and hugged Maya around the neck with one arm, while reaching past her to grab Alek by the shoulder with his other hand.
“I have to say that it’s good to see both of you,” he said, looking Alek in the eyes. “I was beginning to think you weren’t going to make it in time.”
“In time for what?” Alek asked. He stepped to Maya’s other side casually breaking the grip his father had on his arm.
Maya was more forceful. She pushed his father’s hand away from her and took a step closer to Alek. “Don’t listen to him,” she said, “He’s not real. Ceejer is playing some sort of game with us.”
“Oh, I can assure you that I�
�m quite real, Maya,” Mathew said with a wide grin. “At least in the context of our current understanding of what defines reality in this world we have created.”
“I saw your body...” Alek began, his voice trailed off as he remembered the helplessness he had felt watching his father die.
“In a coma?” his father finished. “I’m sure it had Doctor Benness quite concerned when my brain suddenly stopped communicating with Cyberdrome,” he added with a smile. “The neuroprobes were simply protecting me by placing my body in a comatose state after disconnection.”
Alek looked at Maya and they shared a silent thought. He doesn’t know!
Maya turned back to his father. “How can you claim to be Mathew Grey when you admit that your brain is no longer connected to your Avatar?”
His father took a deep breath and spread his arms wide. “I am what you see before you,” he said. “A transcendent consciousness—a living program.”
“How?” Maya whispered. “Why?”
His father, or the Avatar posing as his father replied, “The organic body that once housed my consciousness was unable to work for extended periods of time at this level of interface. You told me as much yourself when we last spoke, Maya. This transfer was necessary to complete my efforts. Since it worked, I think you will come to agree that the attempt was worth any potential risk.”
“A person can’t exist as a stand-alone Avatar,” Maya said.
“Maybe he can,” Alek said turning to face Maya. “You know, I should’ve done the math earlier. Maybe I didn’t want to think about what it could mean.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” she asked angrily. “Don’t tell me you believe this thing.”
Alek put up his hands to calm her. “You told me yourself that these Avatars contain near-exact copies of our brains, and that they can reproduce most, if not all, of our memories.”
She looked back and forth between Alek and his father. “That doesn’t mean they are us,” she said.
“You also told me that at higher levels of interface the Avatars are relied on to handle most of the minute-to-minute, or second-to-second interpolation. At some point, you have to admit, more of our thoughts have to be originating inside these Avatar brains than our physical ones back in the real world.” He looked at her face and realized that she was fighting the same truth that he was just now beginning to accept.
His father tried to place a hand on Maya’s shoulder, but she pulled away. “As Alek said, it’s all in the math. Tell us why it takes longer and longer to wake up from interface at the faster settings.”
“I’ll admit that at faster interface levels, the Avatars are able to gain knowledge of their own,” Maya said. “I also know that we designed them to download what they learned back to the human host at the completion of interface.” She looked at his father and then at Alek. “But, they are still just copies—they are not us.”
“Right now, you are more than 99% program,” his father said to Maya. “The connection with your host body accounts for less than one percent of your total brain functions at this interface speed. Do you feel any different? Are you going to tell me that you’re not Maya Rivero? That you are just an Avatar? The only difference between the two of you and myself, is that I severed that final 1% connection; freeing my Avatar—freeing myself.”
“This is all your doing, isn’t it?” Alek said. “You faked the viral attack on Cyberdrome. You sealed the system and trapped your fellow co-workers just so that you could stay interfaced for as long as you wanted. We were blaming Lorena, or Klaxon, or whatever her name is, but it was you who orchestrated all of it.”
“That can’t be true,” Maya said. “Is it?” she asked his father.
“Lorena was a valuable asset,” he said, “and I’m sure I couldn’t have done it without her. However, to answer your question: Yes, I am responsible for all of this.” He waved his hands around him as if he were showing off his work.
“And the hostages?” Maya asked. “You risked the lives of our own colleagues to pursue your work?”
“No one is in any real danger,” he said casually. “The neuroprobes are doing what they were designed to do, which is keeping us all interfaced until my work here is completed. I certainly couldn’t have them waking up my organic body before I had a chance to finish my work and upload myself back in.”
The smirk on his father’s face made Alek feel sick. “I don’t even know you,” he whispered.
“Really, Alek. I would’ve thought that you of all people would understand what I’ve accomplished,” his father replied dryly. He held out his hands again. “I’ve successfully crossed the border that separates man from machine. I can live out hundreds of lifetimes and complete research that would be impossible in the organic world. While I’m inside Cyberdrome, I’m essentially immortal. I think that is well worth inconveniencing a few dozen coworkers.”
“Inconveniencing?” Maya asked. “Tell that to Herschel Lyman. He was tortured and nearly killed.”
His father glanced over his shoulder at his former colleague who was standing quietly with Persis and the two KaNanee several meters behind them. Without acknowledging the man’s presence, he turned back to Maya. “He looks fine to me.”
“You brought down the Survey Vessels,” Maya said. “You reprogrammed them to make them crash. That’s what you were doing when you said you were running diagnostics on all the ships.”
His father nodded. “Again, no harm was intended. The program should’ve given them all ample time to evacuate the ships before they lost power.”
“How exactly did you do it?” Alek asked, changing the subject. “How exactly did you make the separation? The readings showed that your body underwent some sort of major stress.”
“Death can be quite stressful,” his father replied.
“If you died here, your Avatar would’ve been recycled by the system,” Maya said.
Alek looked at her. “If my Avatar was killed right now, what is the first thing that would happen?”
“The first thing that would happen would be an automatic disconnection with your host body,” she said. “It’s a protective measure.”
“And what if his Avatar were then revived?” Alek asked. “The split-second after disconnection, before it had a chance to be recycled? What would happen to the Avatar?”
She looked at his father. “That’s never happened before,” she said. “I guess it could continue on its own, but that’s only a theory.”
“I would say that I have proven your theory,” his father said. “When I have completed my work here and successfully uploaded all of my experiences back into my organic body, we can all write a dozen papers on the subject.” He turned and began walking toward the side of the platform and down the steps. “Now, if you two will join me, I’ll show you what I have been working on.”
Alek and Maya exchanged confused glances, and then reluctantly followed him back down the side of the pyramid. Alek realized that his father had no idea that his brain and body were both dead, and that there was simply no going back for him. Whatever he was—whatever he had become—was now final. Even if his original motives were altruistic, his father had made a decision he had paid for with his life.
He heard a rumbling sound and turned to see the Survey Vessel resealing its lower platform. The ship then silently moved off to one side and dropped down to hover just off the ground a hundred meters away.
The lower platform dropped again and another figure stepped out onto the ground and began walking quickly toward the other side of the pyramid. This time he was sure that it was Klaxon. She seemed to be avoiding a confrontation, which was probably smart. If she ever dared get close enough, he would make sure she paid for her part in what had happened to them. That is, if Cloudhopper didn’t get to her first.
When they reached the bottom of the steps, the Soldiers moved everyone away from the base of the pyramid. As soon as they were clear, the sides of the pyramid began folding up like a giant
piece of origami. The large structure then began dropping, piece by piece, down into the ground. As the pyramid slowly turned itself back into millions of individual Soldiers, it revealed a large spherical structure underneath.
The sphere was the color of gunmetal and at least 50 meters tall, even with the lower quarter buried in the ground. As Alek followed his father toward it, a circular door appeared on the nearest side and began to spiral open.
As they passed through the door, Alek saw a holographic projection of a huge planet floating in the middle of the room, high above their heads. The planet was distinctly Earth-like—deep blue oceans, greenish-brown continents, all covered by swirling white clouds.
However, something about it was wrong. None of the landmasses looked quite right. As the globe spun slowly around, he saw what looked like the North American continent come into view, but Florida and most of the southeastern United States were gone. Then he realized another strange feature—the planet had no polar ice caps whatsoever. Even Antarctica was replaced with a smaller, brown-colored island.
“This is a Watchport,” Maya whispered, breaking his train of thought.
He pulled his eyes away from the hologram and surveyed the rest of the room. Below the floating planet, there was a wide, circular pad—presumably the transport node. Step on that, and you take a trip, he thought—hopefully one with a few less thrills than his last one.
Surrounding the planet, but not touching it, was a large silver ring held up by three arched columns. Two figures stood facing each other near the base of the farthest arch—one was Ceejer and the other, Alek realized, was Klaxon.
“Your Sentinel friend told us that these were all destroyed,” she said. “How could this one survive?”
“Maybe Javid was wrong,” he said, but then another answer came to him. “Or maybe the Soldier pyramid shielded it.”
His father turned to look at him and smiled. “Very astute, son. Yes, I built the pyramid in advance to protect this Watchport from all types of damage. Obviously I needed a base of operations where I could conduct my work.”
