by Phoenix Ward
“I just did,” the Council soldier said after a microscopic pause. “We have an Alvarez on file, but your credentials don’t match her. In fact, our records state that Officer Alvarez was deleted in the same E.M.P. explosion that killed Officer Abenayo.”
“That can’t be right,” Tera replied, stumbling a little as they started walking down an incline together. “Clearly, I’m right here.”
“We will have to verify your identity, then,” the arresting officer explained. “As far as we can tell, though, you’re one of those Raider I.I.s who took control of Council property to impersonate an officer of the law. For these crimes, as well as being an accomplice to the murder of two police units and the attempted ambush of a government platoon, you are being detained and taken to holding within Shell City. There, we will confirm your identity and the proper action can be taken. Until then, I would keep my mouth shut if I were you. You can only make things worse.”
Waking
The simulation got one thing right, Ethan thought. The outside world definitely has flying cars.
He and Gauge had taken what the I.I. called an “autocar”, which was more amazing than the teenager had imagined. It was like a personal helicopter that drove itself, winding through the long avenues that made up the lower city. He pressed his nose up against the glass and looked out, taking in the sights. He felt like his mind might overload at any second.
Gauge explained that the vehicle was arranged to meet them by some friends of his. When Ethan asked what friends he was talking about, Gauge simply said, “You’ll see.” He didn’t like that.
The flight was a long one. Gauge programmed the vehicle to fly slowly in order to avoid suspicion, but even if he didn’t, the city was so massive that it still would have taken a while. Ethan watched the holographic signs pass by, designed to look like neon lights or old-timey cloth banners. There were swarms of other autocars zooming around the air between the ridiculously tall skyscrapers.
Ethan knew civilization had advanced and urban areas had expanded, but he had no idea the true scale of it all.
“Where are we?” he asked. He didn’t take his gaze away from the window.
“Shell City,” the bodyshell replied. “Formerly Denver, Colorado. This is what it’s been transformed into since the humans lost the war. This is what the Council built it up to be.”
Ethan remembered mentions of Denver in his educational programs, but he couldn’t remember much about it. He just knew that it was famous for being a mile above sea-level.
Maybe that’s not even true, he thought sourly.
“What Council?” he asked.
“The elite I.I.s who control the world,” Gauge answered. “There are dozens of places like Shell City out there, and they control every single one. Their local representative is Councilman Harring. Someone had to be in charge of how all the I.I.s were stored and ultimately how life continued on. So the Council stepped in, and now they have all the power.”
Ethan felt dismal. “I was promised the chance to live on Mars,” he said, almost to himself rather than his metal companion. “They said life was just one long vacation and we could do whatever we wanted. No one said it would be like this.”
“That’s the Council’s work,” Gauge replied. “They’re the ones that kept you in the simulation so they could harvest your body. To their credit, at least the program seemed fun.”
“It was all a lie.”
“That’s right.”
Ethan felt like he might be sick. At first, he thought it was because of the shock or the rocking of the autocar as it flew. Then he realized how hungry he was. More than ever in his life, he wanted to bury his face in a plate of steaming hot food and risk the burns in order to fill his gullet. He hoped they were landing soon.
“The rest of the humans,” he started to ask, “they’re all in those pods?”
“No,” Gauge said. “You were just a special crop and a Council secret. Most humans live in the lower city ghettos. They live in shacks, or ruins, or even just the streets while usually spending most of their time fighting each other, tweaking out on drugs, and surrounding themselves with mindless entertainment. You probably can’t even imagine the kind of squalor the millions of slum dwellers live in each day. And it’s not just the humans. Poor I.I.s, or those who found themselves out of the Council’s favor, call the ghettos their home as well.”
“Sounds like Hell,” Ethan said, wishing dearly that Gauge had left him in the simulation pod.
The mechanical man nodded, then added, “The only difference is that Hell can’t be changed. We’re almost there.”
Ethan felt relieved as the autocar finally lighted down on the roof of a ruined apartment building. He had no idea where they were going, but looking around, it was clear they were in one of the ghettos Gauge had mentioned.
“This way,” Gauge said as the autocar door slid open. He hopped out and walked over to a roof-access door. He waited for Ethan to join him before opening the door and stepping inside.
The stairwell was full of dust and a good number of the steps were missing. Ethan stumbled a little once, but Gauge caught him and steadied him. Aside from the loud sounds of them descending the dilapidated stairs, Ethan couldn’t hear anything. They were alone here.
They took the stairs down four flights before Gauge led the way down a short corridor, then down another flight. The stairs were metal and the building was made more solid concrete the deeper they went. Ethan guessed that they were underground now.
“We’re going through the city’s old geothermal network,” Gauge explained. “It used to power the city, but this section has since been shut down. That’s why it makes the perfect hideout.”
He led Ethan down a number of metal tunnels and more stairwells, all the while the light around them grew dimmer and redder. It was a labyrinth, but Gauge seemed to know every turn to take without a moment’s delay. Ethan couldn’t count the number of bends and dips they took or how long they’d been underground. Neither of them said a thing.
After what seemed like forever, the tunnel emptied out to a wide wall of pipes and tubes and a large steel door. The door had a bolt on it so large that it looked like it took two people to open it. Ethan couldn’t help but think of the huge bank vault doors he’d sometimes see in crime movies.
Gauge stepped forward and rapped on the door with his fist. His knock had a specific rhythm of tap tap, tap tap, bang! He stepped back, and Ethan waited in silence with him. Eventually, the bolt slid open with a loud thunk and the door began to open.
The bodyshell turned to Ethan and smiled.
“Welcome to the Furnace,” he said, gesturing to the slowly opening door. “Secret headquarters of the People’s Union.”
Interrogation
“I’m telling you everything I know,” Tera said to the bodyshell in charge of questioning her. “I am Tera Alvarez, and I am a Shell City Police Officer. I swear!”
“Oh good, she swears,” the third person in the room commented with over-obvious sarcasm. “I say we let her go, then.”
The light strips that ran along the seams of the room, where the walls met the ceiling and floor, did little to actually illuminate the chamber. It seemed to be there to set the mood, rather than help anyone see each other.
In her training at the academy, Tera had seen one of these interrogation rooms a handful of times, but always from the outside. She had watched a mock questioning from behind the one-way mirror. Just like the mirror in this room.
I wonder how many of them are watching me, she thought, staring at her own reflection. I wonder what they are thinking. How guilty do they believe I am?
The bodyshell that asked her the question was tall and slender. She couldn’t tell if he hunched over the table at her as some form of intimidation, or just because the ceiling was too low for him. She hadn’t seen him stand to full height since he’d entered.
The one who made the sarcastic comment leaned against the wall, far away from the table w
here Tera was shackled. He was shorter, but something about him told Tera that he was much older. He seemed almost bored as he watched the interrogation play out.
“We didn’t ask you if you were Tera Alvarez,” the tall one in her face said, ignoring his partner. “We asked you where the rest of Truck’s Raiders are, and if they’re planning an attack.”
“I don’t know that!” she pleaded. “I was only there for a day because they used an E.M.P. on me.”
“The same E.M.P. they used on Abenayo, right?” the one in the corner said skeptically.
“Yes,” Tera said.
“Then why is Abenayo dead and you’re not?” the tall one asked, hunching closer to Tera’s face.
“I told you, I was too far away,” Tera explained. “Abenayo and the raider guy were right in each other’s faces when the detonation went off. I imagine he’s the one who triggered it.”
The bored-looking cop in the corner scoffed.
“It’s true!” Tera whined.
“Sounds convenient,” the shorter one said. “Sounds incredible, even. To me, the logical assumption is that you’re lying. You’re just an impostor.”
“You’ve seen the scan results, ‘Tera’,” the tall one said. “Your I.I. frequency doesn’t match our records, and you know that can’t be faked. We’ve also confirmed Officer Alvarez’s deletion — how dare you pretend to be a dead cop.”
“That’s impossible,” Tera argued. “I don’t know why the frequencies don’t match. Someone must be doing this to me!”
“Sure, sure,” the one in the corner said. “You’re just wrapped up in some conspiracy, right?”
“Tell the truth, raider!” the tall one growled. His fake teeth almost seemed to rattle a little.
“I am! I’m not a raider!” Tera felt like she could cry, if she had the tear glands to do so. She wondered if this is how all the criminals felt when they were brought in for interrogation. Like they were digging for a specific answer, and anything else the suspect said was a lie.
“Seems like she’s sticking to her story,” the bored one in the corner said. “Even though it’s clearly bullshit.”
The tall one sighed, then stepped back from the table. He was able to stand to his full height without scraping the ceiling, to Tera’s surprise.
“Well, we don’t have anything solid to connect you to the Raiders — even though we’ll find it eventually — but we can book you on theft of government property.”
“What are you talking about?” Tera asked. She felt delirious with everything that happened over the last three days. From the mass suicide of the I.I. worshipers to the ambush in the ruins, to being accused of treason by the only family she had ever known.
“The bodyshell, genius,” the shorter one said. “Or did you think we’d let you keep it?”
“Not like she’ll need it where she’s going,” the taller one commented. “They don’t allow bodyshells in prison.”
“Prison?” Tera asked. If she had a heart, she had no doubt it would be pounding out of her chest at that moment. “Don’t I get a trial?”
The two cops looked at each other, then gave a hearty laugh.
“You’ve already had it,” the shorter one answered.
“What?” she asked.
“A judge, jury, and your defense have already convened. In fact, they were having your trial while we were having our little chat.”
“Why wasn’t I in attendance?”
“It wasn’t necessary,” the taller one replied. “Your case is a pretty open and shut one.”
“What about my rights?” she asked.
That was met with even more laughter. The taller one, still chuckling, helped Tera onto her feet. He started binding her hands behind her back, like they had been when they brought her in.
“The judge has sentenced you to a month in storage,” he told her.
“You’re lucky we can’t pin the conspiracy and cop murder charges on you,” the shorter one said. “They’d be putting you in a place where you’d never see the sun. It would be hell, and you’d deserve it. Makes me sick to see cop killers walk, but at least we got your friends. And hey, who knows. Maybe they’ll flip on you and you’ll get to take that trip after all.”
The Furnace
There were a couple of people waiting for Gauge and Ethan on the other side of the enormous door. They only slid it open about six feet wide, then closed it behind them when they had entered. Gauge greeted them, and they returned the gesture, but the I.I. didn’t wait around long enough to say much else.
The vault-like door led them into the largest underground chamber Ethan had ever seen, even compared to the deepest dungeons of the simulation. Everything was built with function in mind and aesthetics cast to the side. A number of heat vents and ducts ran along the chamber, either along the length or up and down it. Various openings dotted the walls and ceiling, looking like the caves of some cliff-dwelling critter. Some of the largest ducts and metal pipes made columns that held the gargantuan chamber together.
People moved all about the Furnace, as Gauge called it. Some were flesh-and-blood humans like Ethan and some were bodyshell I.I.s like Gauge. It looked like most were busy moving things around, but Ethan couldn’t discern what the cargo was. As his liberator led him farther into the secret headquarters, Ethan noticed a few of the faces turn to him with interest.
“We’ve been down here for over a year now, building up our defenses and planning,” Gauge said.
“Planning for what?” Ethan asked.
“The day we take the Pavilion and free the city,” Gauge answered. “That’s the ultimate goal. We want to fight for the little guy, so to speak. We want to end the policies that created the ghettos and the body farms like you were in. We want to make those things they told you about humanity in your simulation true — for all people, no matter what their brain is made of.”
They were about a hundred feet into the chamber when an older woman took notice of them. With a warm smile, she approached Ethan and Gauge.
“It’s good to see you, Gauge,” she greeted the I.I. Then she turned to Ethan. “And you as well. I’m glad we were able to get you out of that dreadful place.”
She was dressed smart, like she had just finished giving a presentation to a board of directors somewhere. Fine jewelry hung from her ears and her neck, which even Ethan knew was expensive. In the side of her head, interrupting her fine gray perm, was a bizarre concave plate. It looked like a subwoofer someone had installed right into her skull.
“Ah, you must be Ethan!” a male’s voice emanated from the subwoofer. “We’ve been looking forward to meeting you for some time.”
Ethan looked over at Gauge with a confused look in his eyes. The woman with the speaker in her head seemed to pick up on its meaning.
“My apologies, dear,” she said in her normal voice, from her lips. “My name is Betsy Clevinger.”
“And I’m Martin, her husband,” the male voice said through the speaker in her skull.
“Hello,” Ethan said, but the confusion never left his face. He felt like he was hallucinating.
Maybe Gauge slipped me something on the flight, he thought. Or perhaps the simulation is glitching out.
“I see that you’re confused,” the male voice said. “My wife and I are what you call a mindshare couple. She’s still alive in the organic sense, but I am not. As an I.I., however, I can be installed into her brain. That way we can share everything we experience together.”
“It might not work for most couples, but it does for us,” Betsy said with the same smile stuck on her face. “We want to welcome you to the Furnace. We’re so glad you’re not in that terrible simpod anymore.”
“Betsy and Martin here run the People’s Union,” Gauge said. “They’re the only reason we’re here, rather than lobotomized or worse.”
“We merely have an excess of funds and try to put it to good use,” Betsy said. “Martin and I have always been privileged, even since before we mar
ried. But we paid attention. We see the inequality around us and we know that it cannot stand.”
“We happen to be in a rare position of power, you see,” Martin added. “We’re so wealthy that the Council doesn’t even mind the fact that Betsy is a human. With our money, we’re able to make a real difference. We might even be able to knock the Council down a peg.”
“You’re doing this just out of the kindness in your heart — er — hearts?” Ethan asked. He didn’t mean it to sound rude, but by the look on Betsy’s face, it was taken as such.
“We’re doing it for our son, actually,” she said. Her face became warm again rather quickly, having shrugged off Ethan’s question. “Or, his memory, at least.”
“We lost him when he went to a protest,” Martin Clevinger said. “There were a group of humans protesting the way the Council was treating their kind, and he wanted to go. It was mostly the poorer folk, the ones they forced to live in the slums. Still, he wanted to show his support. That was the kind of boy he was.”
“The Council gunned them down,” Betsy said when her husband paused for a moment. “All of them. And before anyone was informed, they had the bodies burned. There was nothing left. No one could be installed — they didn’t even bother to try.”
“I’m — so sorry,” Ethan said.
“That’s what they said, too, when the news broke,” Martin said. “Once they figured out whose son they had murdered, they came over to kiss our ass and beg our forgiveness. As you can imagine, we were less than willing to provide it.”
“Over the years, however, we started to realize the advantages of playing along with the Council,” Betsy said. “We started to think we could take the monster down from the inside. And that’s when we founded the People’s Union. Funnily enough, a good amount of the money we’ve used buying fancy bodyshells, powerful E.M.P. weapons, and supplies is what they gave us to ‘compensate’ us for the loss of our only child. I think it’s rather fitting.”
