by Phoenix Ward
“To those who seek to oppose me, however — I promise I will find you. No matter how well you hide, how far you run, or how hard you fight, we will always outnumber you. We will always outclass you. We will always outlive you. Extinction is inevitable. It’s not too late to surrender.”
Tarov continued to stare into the camera, as if gazing straight into the viewer’s eyes. Then the transmission ended and the television displayed the same “National Emergency Broadcast” still image that had been beamed to every corner of the country since the beginning of the war.
Nathan
We’ve been here for two days now, and still, nothing! Beth thought. She hunched over her serving of rations as she shoved indiscriminate spoonfuls into her mouth.
“We’ve hardly searched everywhere,” Simon replied. “With everyone coming into the camp each day and the constant expansion, this place is like a dense metropolis. It’s to be expected that finding Dr. Silvar would be difficult.”
We don’t have forever, she reminded the I.I. Every day the war rages on, more people we could have saved are lost. God, I can hardly sleep.
“You’ll be no good to anyone exhausted,” Simon replied. “There’s nothing more we could be doing.”
Maybe our intel is old, Beth suggested. It’s been a while since you found Dr. Silvar staying in Fort Leddy. Maybe he’s moved on.
“To where?”
I don’t know. Maybe the Great Beyond.
“I think it’s much more likely we just haven’t found him yet,” Simon said. “Come on — you’re a detective. You should know how to go about solving this case. As far as I’ve seen, you’ve only talked to two people about the programmer, and they all arrived after we did.”
You’re suggesting I just start interrogating people? Beth asked. Where would I even start?
“Think about the E.M.P. emitters they had at the entrance of the camp,” Simon started. “They were exactly like Dr. Miller’s, yet they were improved. Now, it could just be a shot in the dark, but my gut tells me that Dr. Silvar has something to do with that device. He was probably even the one who routed the televisions to avoid Liberator intrusion. If he’s been having that kind of influence on the way things are done around here, someone is bound to know something about him. Maybe they even know where we can find him.”
Beth picked up her head and looked around at the folk in the common area. There were a dozen or so also eating skimp meals, and another dozen playing games, reading books, or watching reruns on the disconnected televisions. Some of them looked like extended families, with mothers carrying newborns and children running around causing a general sense of havoc. Other looked like loners — drifters, even. They sat alone, never making an expression, never talking with the others. Simply existing.
Who do we talk to? Beth asked.
“I dunno,” Simon admitted. “Look for someone with a bored expression by the bar, maybe.”
She stood up to do so, but stopped when she heard her name.
“Beth?” the voice said again. It sounded incredulous, like it was winded by surprise.
She knew the voice.
Spinning around, she saw the unmistakable face of her brother, Nathan.
“It is you!” he cried when she showed her face to him. He lunged forward and swept her up in a massive hug.
She barely had time to react. Before she knew whether or not she was just dreaming the meeting, she was off her feet. Her brother, like he had while growing up, liked to demonstrate his strength by picking her up. It was a habit, just like old times.
“Nathan?” she asked, still dubious of the reality of her situation. “What are you doing here?”
“I could ask you the same thing!” her brother replied. “Come on, we’ve got some catching up to do.”
They only moved to another table within the lounge, but Beth forgot as soon as they started exchanging stories and concerns. They shared some of the beer the bar sold at an exorbitant rate.
“You look well,” Beth commented.
Nathan smiled, pushing his hair out of his face and trying to look modest.
“You think so?” he asked. There was a tone of pride in his voice.
She nodded.
“Well, it took a lot of work,” he said. “Still does, as a matter of fact. I’ve been Fog-free for over three months now. Picked a hell of a time to get clean with the war breaking out.”
“But you didn’t relapse,” Beth pointed out.
“Thus far, no,” her brother replied, taking a swig of his beer. “Not like Fog dealers are in ready supply these days, but nonetheless, I like to think I’d stay away from it either way. There was an awful lot of brain damage I’d done to myself — irreversible damage — but I got out before it was too late. Before I was just another Fog zombie, easily possessed by these Liberator sons-of-bitches. Still, I have trouble remembering things sometimes. I’m ashamed I let it get so bad in the first place.”
“Well, I’m proud of you,” Beth said. “Cheers.”
“Cheers,” Nathan replied.
They clanked their bottles together.
“How long have you been back in the States?” Beth asked.
” ‘The States,’ ” he quoted. “Can we even still call them that anymore? Anyway, I came back just after I decided to get sober. I’d gotten sick of the strange places and the constant haze I was in. I had just flown back to reconnect with you and Mom — even Dad — when the war broke out.”
“Oh, no,” Beth whispered.
“Yeah,” Nathan continued. “I’d been trapped in Denver ever since my flight in — until they started evacuating us to this camp about a week ago. I still wish I had been able to check in on Mom and Dad. Make sure they’re okay.”
Beth nodded solemnly. “I’ve been thinking about them a lot since the war started,” she said. “I wish I had checked in with them, too.”
“Do you think they’re okay?” Nathan asked.
“I don’t know,” Beth replied. “I don’t think Dad would be in much trouble — but I can’t say the same for Mom.”
“She’s smart. She probably came to a camp just like this,” Nathan suggested. “Hell — they could even be here and we just haven’t run into them yet. It’s not a small suburb here, you know.”
Anything is possible, Beth thought, drinking some more of the beer. Her drink had gotten warm while they talked.
“Do you have a shelter yet?” she asked her brother.
“Yeah,” Nathan answered. “Staying in an old shipping crate with two other families. They rigged it to work like an apartment.”
“Well, what would you say to staying with me?” Beth offered. “I’ve got a shed to myself — probably much roomier than what you’ve got going on. Besides, the Dylan team should probably stick together, right?”
Nathan thought about it for a moment while a small smile stretched out on his lips. Whatever he mulled over seemed to please him, so he started nodding.
“That sounds great. Thanks, B.”
The sound of metal fork on metal tray filled the small shack Beth now shared with her brother. He had stayed with her for a couple days now. They would talk about his stories and the news surrounding them, but he seldom went into details. It was like the Fog still had a hold on his memory, so Beth did her best to compensate with stories of her own. She told him all about the hunt for Simon, the Fog house, Rubik, and the clinic. He was stunned when she explained how Tarov was actually an A.I. gone mad, and she had the evidence to prove it. She conveniently left out the fact that she shared her mind with the I.I. of Simon Mendez, Jr.
They had just finished a bit of tuna that Beth mixed with some bread to make a couple sandwiches when Nathan rose from his seat and walked over to the door of the shack.
Beth, a mouthful of tuna sandwich muffling her words, asked, “Where are you going?”
“Nowhere,” her brother replied.
He pulled the bolt lock on the door closed.
Beth stopped chewing. “What are
you doing?” She swallowed.
“How has it felt, Beth?” Nathan said. Something about his inflection changed — like he was a stage actor dropping character. “Getting to reunite with your brother?”
Her eyes went wide. She knew that voice — that manner of speaking. It was not her brother.
“Tarov,” Simon said, his tone incredulous.
Nathan — or Tarov — smiled. “That’s right,” he said. “You realize it now. Nathan is gone. It’s been me the whole time.”
Beth’s heart sunk. It felt like it dropped right into a vat of freezing cold water. The icy clutch stole her breath.
“I don’t understand,” she said, her voice diminutive. “Nathan’s gone?”
Tarov chuckled a little, and Beth shuddered at her brother’s voice. “He rotted his mind to the point that, if I weren’t in control of his implant right now, he would still be brain-dead,” he explained. “Your brother died a long time ago while sucking on a Fog pipe.”
Tears filled Beth’s vision. She felt like all of her muscles atrophied at the same time and she fell to her knees. For a moment, she was worried she might faint, but managed to stay upright, wobbling. Then the dam broke, and she started to cry. She doubled over herself, ignoring Tarov, ignoring everything but the hollow feeling of loss in her gut.
Tarov watched her for a minute. He seemed to relish her suffering, but after a while, grew impatient with it.
“I know you know about Dr. Silvar,” he said once there was a break in Beth’s sobs. “I can’t allow you to meet with him. I had hoped you’d lead me to him these last two days, but it doesn’t matter. I know where he is now — and I’m bored of acting.”
“Beth, get up!” Simon urged. “I know you don’t think you can, but you have to!”
She looked up at what was once her brother’s face and almost broke down again. It took a moment to regain her composure, which she never completely did.
“Then it’s true,” Beth said. “The failsafe can stop you. And you’re afraid.”
Tarov gave a loud and sarcastic Ha! before shaking his head. “Just because a thing is possible, doesn’t make it likely,” he replied. “I’m just here to improve my odds.”
“And that’s why you posed as my brother for three days?” Beth asked. “That’s why you made me think I had him back?”
“No, I did that for me.”
“I didn’t realize computer programs could be so sadistic,” Beth commented. “Why wouldn’t you just kill me when you first saw me here? It’s just so cruel without purpose.”
“Then you mistake me for some simple adding device,” Tarov replied. “I can enjoy things and hate people just like any human can. It’s one of the things I was programmed to do, as a matter of fact.”
“You were also designed to protect humanity,” Beth retorted. “Not to hunt them down like vermin.”
“Humanity as a whole,” Tarov corrected. “You simply cannot understand. You don’t see the big picture. But all you need to know is that the new generation of installed intelligences is humanity. They are simply the next step of your evolution, and therefore should be preserved. If given the chance, would you have chosen to spare the Neanderthals at the sacrifice of the Homo sapiens? Or would you have seen their demise as the natural order of things?”
“We didn’t hunt the Neanderthals,” Beth said.
“No, but perhaps we should have,” Tarov replied. Then he sighed and squared his shoulders. “Enough talk. It’s time for you to die.”
Beth was still dazed by the realization that her brother was really gone when his carcass tackled her to the shack’s wooden flooring. Her limbs took a moment to react and she fumbled under the weight of her brother while Tarov wrapped his hands around her throat. She felt all the blood stop up in her temples, felt it pound against her skull.
Help me! she begged. Do something to stun him!
“I can’t stun him,” Simon said. “I can kill him.”
She didn’t reply, but Simon could sense her hesitation. He knew that, deep down, she thought Nathan could be saved. That once Tarov was clear of his implant, maybe he could be healed and return to having a normal life. She didn’t want to accept that he was already as good as dead.
Still, with the adrenaline coursing through her veins while she was being slowly strangled to death, she sent her hands flailing back towards her cot, towards where she kept her firearm. Even if out of instinct, she knew that she needed to protect herself.
Tarov noticed her attempts to reach the gun, and removed his hands from her throat and grabbed it himself. As he brought it down in order to rest the barrel against Beth’s forehead, she caught him by the wrist and fought to push it up and away. She only purchased an inch or two before Tarov added more weight. Beth could feel the tip of the pistol graze the side of her scalp.
He’s going to kill me!
The L.E.D.s that made up the lighting in the shed suddenly gave a flicker. Tarov was so caught off guard by the sudden strobe that he looked up with confused eyes.
Beth didn’t let the lights distract her for more than a millisecond. She reapplied her strength and tore the gun away from Tarov’s — Nathan’s — hand. He looked back down at her, the flickering lasting only a few seconds.
She closed her eyes and pulled the trigger. Her brother’s brain, with Tarov inside it, splattered against the shed wall.
Broken
The door made a terrible creak as Beth shoved it open and stumbled out into the camp. Covered in her brother’s blood, she still clutched onto the gun. She took a couple steps and let the weapon tumble from her fingers and into the bushes outside the front door. Her gaze focused on nothing in particular, just staring through everything before her.
Someone saw her emerge and gave a startled gasp. Beth looked over and saw an older woman covering her mouth in shock. She looked down and saw the crimson splatter over her top, her arms, probably even her face. A man walking by stared over at her with a rubber-neck, his brow furrowed in concerned surprise.
“Beth…” Simon tried to say. She ignored him and ran around the back side of her shed.
There was a narrow alley that ran from her “home” to the camp’s wall, weaving between a number of other shacks packed with refugees like sardines in a tin. The alley was almost always abandoned, used as a garbage dump by a good number of the residents. She ran over and through the filth until she found a quiet spot between a tree and two trailers. The trailers were being used as storage, since they were some of the only things the guards could lock up with something more than a deadbolt or a padlock. Looking around, she confirmed she was alone. No one decided to follow her.
She noticed heavy breathing before recognizing it as her own, and it only made her panic more. She dropped to her knees, let her head sink down to the ground, and started to bawl. She cried so hard that her breath became a rapid wheeze of hyperventilation.
There was no way of telling how long she sat huddled there, weeping into the dirt. It felt like hours, but the sun still hadn’t set. Simon did his best to comfort her, but it didn’t help. She wanted to die.
She regretted dropping the gun in front of the shack. More than anything in the world, she wished she could wrap her lips around the barrel and pull the trigger. Blow her brains out — just like she had done to Nathan.
“Beth, you need to calm down,” Simon told her. He sounded like he was addressing an agitated mountain lion. “Please — just breathe.”
I can’t! she thought.
She reached for her throat. It almost felt like Tarov still had her brother’s fingers wrapped around it. Like the life was still being squeezed out of her.
After a few minutes though, she realized she wasn’t going to die. Even though she didn’t want to, her body forced her to breathe. It took even longer for her inhales and exhales to become longer and deeper.
“It’s okay, Beth,” Simon said. “You’re safe now.”
But Nathan isn’t, she thought. My brother is dead. He
didn’t deserve this. He was a fuck up, but he didn’t deserve to be that psycho’s meat puppet.
“Nathan was dead long before Tarov brought him here,” Simon told her. “He didn’t feel any of this. He’s in a better place. To be honest, he might be the lucky one of us all. He didn’t have to see the war. To live like this — see things like that.”
He was still my brother.
“Yes, but Tarov wasn’t,” Simon said. Then he paused. “I’m sorry, Beth.”
She cried a bit more, but the panic dissolved. There was nothing left in her but despair and fatigue. She desperately wanted to rest, perhaps forever. She wasn’t about to go back into the shack, however.
“This sort of thing must be happening to families all over the globe,” Simon commented. “I wonder how many sisters — how many mothers, fathers, and brothers — must be feeling the same way right now. And because of Tarov, as well.”
I’ll make the son of a bitch pay, Beth’s thoughts seethed. Even if he is an artificial intelligence, I will make him suffer.
“Stopping him is the only way to make sure no one else has to go through this,” Simon said. “Don’t you see, Beth? We have to find Dr. Silvar and destroy Tarov.”
Yes, Beth thought. Yes, we must.
The Holdout
“Checkmate,” the man with the silver goatee said, letting go of his rook.
The man seated across from him stared down at the board, flabbergasted. He looked over all the pieces, trying to understand how he went from almost certain victory to crushing defeat in a single move. Even as the older man explained it, he couldn’t wrap his head around it.
“Well I’ll be damned,” the game’s loser declared. “You’re a sorcerer.”
“Would you believe I get that a lot?” the bearded man replied. He leaned forward and started moving the pieces back to their starting positions. “Don’t be discouraged. Practice makes the sorcerer, you see. Not magic, and not luck.”
