The Installed Intelligence Trilogy Collection

by Phoenix Ward

  The three of them continued on in silence, the sound of their shoes, sandals, and metal feet echoing through the massive chamber. Once they reached the opposite wall, in which an enormous door was set, Orram turned to face the two guests.

  “This is the throne room,” he told them. “Ultimately, King Hum is a wise and compassionate leader. If he has deemed to listen to you, know that he will listen with an open mind. Don’t feel intimidated, you are safe in these walls. I will be there to help should any elaboration be required.”

  With that, he opened the large door and gestured for them to lead the way inside. The entrance was large enough to accommodate both Ethan and Tera, shoulder-to-shoulder.

  The throne room was much smaller than Ethan imagined. From all his time in fantasy role-playing games and medieval education programs, he expected it to be as large as the great hall. Most monarchs seemed to make their throne rooms an auditorium, vast enough to hold a large number of subjects, who should all be so lucky to be in their leader’s presence. At least, that’s how Ethan had seen it depicted. Instead, the Opesian throne room was little more than a classroom. The throne that sat the front of the room was exquisite indeed — fine wood carved into the delicate recreation of the planet earth, flattened to allow someone to sit in it. However, it sat behind a bland stone desk, which seemed to ruin the royal vibe. Instead, it looked more like the office of a C.E.O., not the throne room of a king.

  Behind the desk, at his throne, sat the young King Hum. He was younger than either Ethan or Tera imagined. At most, he was only a few years older than them, if his complexion was anything to go off. His face was finely tanned, a narrow, short beard leading from his lip to his chin. His hair was clipped to such a length that it was barely visible under the crown of bejeweled antlers he wore. His clothing, though colorful and ornate, was no different in style from the humble robe Orram wore. King Hum’s face was void of emotion as we watched the three enter his chamber.

  “Good afternoon, your grace,” Orram said, bowing as he did when Tera and Ethan had first arrived.

  “And to you,” the young king replied, returning a short bow from his seated position. Then he turned to greet the others. “I welcome you to our holy kingdom and bless your presence here. I hope you have been enjoying your stay.”

  Ethan and Tera, looking at each other for a bit of reassurance, offered a bow similar to Orram’s.

  “Thank you for meeting us, your Grace,” Tera said. “We are grateful for your audience. Our stay in Opes has been nothing short of delightful.”

  “Wonderful,” King Hum said, smiling. His face didn’t even wrinkle.

  “Your grace, we’ve come to ask you for your help,” Ethan started.

  “I’ve been given a summary, but I prefer to hear the details as you’ve prepared them,” the man in the throne replied. “Feel free to make your case — and don’t feel hurried. My ears are wide open, as is my mind.”

  “People in Shell City are suffering,” Ethan said. Tera nodded her agreement, internally relieved that he chose to go first. “As I’m sure you know, the Council that rules the city is cruel and oppressive. They’ve created a divide in the people so they are too busy fighting with each other to focus on the injustice being done to them.”

  He paused for a moment, expecting King Hum to interrupt with a comment or some insight. The young monarch never did, though. He listened without any indication that he wanted to interrupt. There was a calm about his patience.

  “Your grace, I understand how your people feel about installed intelligences like myself,” Tera said, rescuing her partner. “I don’t blame you for not wanting that kind of existence for your own people. Every day, however, I.I.s are persecuted just like their human counterparts. It’s not about race, or mortality, or whatever. It’s about power and wealth. Like it’s always been.”

  “I acknowledge the personage, and therefore the suffering, of our I.I. brothers and sisters,” King Hum said. “Though our religion doesn’t encourage the lifestyle people like you have, it does nothing to diminish your humanity. We do not believe that beings such as yourself can get into paradise, but that doesn’t make you any less of a person. My heart aches for all who are oppressed, regardless of what their bodies are made of. However, I have flesh-and-blood people, right here in Opes, who would be in danger if we helped you against the Council. People would die, you see, and no matter the injustice your leaders enact on you, my people cannot pay for it.”

  “It’s not just the I.I.s, your grace,” Ethan started. “I get why you want to look out for your people, but there are flesh-and-blood people in Shell City being held against their will.”

  The young king’s eyebrow cocked, but he remained silent.

  “That’s right,” Ethan continued. “The Council is keeping human children in a computer simulation in order to harvest their bodies.”

  King Hum and Adviser Orram shared a look of horror as the young man spoke.

  “I was once captive in this system, before the People’s Union freed me,” Ethan said. “If they hadn’t, I wouldn’t be here today. My body might be, sure, but it would be a fancy suit for some rich I.I. to walk around in. They would have destroyed my brain, effectively killing me. I was lucky, but thousands of others are not. We need your help.”

  King Hum lowered his gaze to the desk and thought for a moment. Everyone in the throne room was still.

  “I did not know about this terrible practice,” King Hum said. “But surely we can’t act on your word alone.”

  “Which is why we brought evidence,” Tera interjected. She looked between Orram and the king. “Do you mind seeing the projection I have?”

  Both Opesians shook their head and waited for her to proceed. Tera stepped back and loaded up the projection program the Clevingers had given her just for this purpose. It was clear that neither the king or his adviser knew what to expect. Even Ethan backed up and braced himself, and he had seen the projection several times before.

  Tera started it up. A small emitter in the front of her robotic throat projected a hologram of a surgical theater that filled the throne room. Both Opesians jumped a little when the program began, terrified that the holographic images would hit them as they grew to full scale.

  In the middle of the room was the operating table, and on it was Ethan’s old friend Nadia. He had seen the projection over and over at the behest of the People’s Union, but it still unnerved him. The chamber was filled with the sound of mechanical saws buzzing, lasers firing, and most of all, the screams of the young patient as they cut into her brain.

  The disturbing scene only played out for a minute or so before it transitioned to the inside of the human storage facility. Countless mucus-green pods rushed by them, showing the true scale of the operation.

  Then it faded away, and everyone was silent. King Hum and Orram wore stunned looks on their faces, and it took their eyes a moment to adjust to the fact that the illusion had ended.

  “That was one of the lobotomies the Council performs on its meat puppets,” Tera explained. “You just witnessed a young woman having her brain destroyed. For all we know, her body is now walking around Shell City, shopping for fine gowns and jewelry to wear, occupied by the I.I. of some wealthy snob. This is the fate of thousands if the Council isn’t stopped.”

  King Hum gestured to Orram, who came to his side and leaned over so the monarch could whisper in his ear. The old adviser nodded, then whispered something back. After a couple of exchanges like this, Orram stepped back to his usual place at the side of Hum’s desk.

  “These accusations you’ve made against the Council stand to change my opinion on the matter,” the young king said as if he had rehearsed the line before. “What is your Union’s plan to stop them?”

  Tera and Ethan looked at each other. They had struggled to get as far in their pitch, but the hardest work was still ahead of them.

  “A full assault on the Pavilion,” Tera said once she realized Ethan wasn’t going to. “Total des
truction of the Council.”

  “Just like that?” the king asked.

  “With your help, of course,” Tera replied. “Our combined strength will attack the Pavilion, the place where the Council resides, while a small team sneaks inside to destroy the hard storage facilities.”

  “So your plan to fight criminal violence is with more violence?” King Hum asked. “Are we not to break the cycle?”

  “Ideally, yes,” Ethan stepped into the conversation. “But this will have to be the catalyst to do so. We want the forest of prosperity to grow, so to speak — but before that can happen, the old dead wood that’s killing the soil needs to be burned first. The fire may seem violent and tragic, but it precedes vibrant growth and peace.”

  King Hum nodded as he considered what the young outsider said.

  “You make some very interesting points,” he said. “I thank you for meeting with me and sharing these concerns.”

  There was a bit of tense quiet as Ethan and Tera waited for him to say more. When he didn’t, Tera asked, “Does that mean you’ll help us?”

  “It means I will think about it,” King Hum said. “As a ruler, my first responsibility to my people is to make reasoned decisions. Your story is tragic and inspires my ire against the Council, but I will not send my people to war on the basis of emotion. Please, give me time to consider your request. Only then can I make a decision.”

  With that, the young king nodded to Orram, who moved to the two outsiders. He stretched his arms out as if to corral them towards the door, but he gave them a moment to say farewell.

  “Thank you for your time,” Tera said, offering another little bow. Ethan emulated her.

  “And you for yours,” King Hum said. “Orram here will escort you back out of the palace. You are welcome to stay in Opes while I consider my next action. In fact, we will be holding a feast tonight in the honor of our guests. It would mean a lot to my people if you could attend.”

  Then, like a switch was flicked, the king turned to the stack of papers that sat before him as if he were alone. Orram led Ethan and Tera out of the throne room.

  The two outsiders couldn’t help but feel defeated. They both expected the king to leap up in outrage when he saw the lobotomy, to pledge his troops immediately. Instead, they got little more than an automated reply to work with.

  “What do you think the chances are of King Hum helping us?” Ethan asked once the great door closed behind them.

  Orram led their march over the violet carpet, through the great hall. “I couldn’t say,” Orram replied. “I don’t pretend to know what goes on in our young king’s mind. But I do know one thing — King Hum will decide whatever his heart tells him is right. God will speak to him, and no matter the decision, it will be the right one.”

  “You really believe that?” Tera asked.

  “With all my being,” Orram said.

  A Shell Without a Snail

  The town square, which was populated by a variety of market stands mere hours ago, was now packed with people. It reminded Ethan and Tera of the traffic they’d seen prior to the Naming the day before. No one moved into the temple, however, instead gathering around a wooden stage that had been erected at breakneck speed. There were a number of long tables with benches to sit at, like something Ethan pictured in an old-world park. The people started seating themselves wherever they could.

  Neither Ethan nor Tera wanted to attend, but they didn’t want to cause offense. They were disheartened by their meeting with the king, but rather than sulk in their empty room, they decided to catch the feast.

  Looking around at all the Opesian faces, the two foreigners couldn’t help but feel out of place. They didn’t recognize anyone, naturally, and didn’t want to impose themselves on strangers. Based on the glances Tera was getting, they weren’t too keen about sitting next to a bodyshell either.

  They didn’t have long to worry about sitting before a gong sounded at the center of the crowd, where the stage was. It was difficult to see over all the heads, but both Tera and Ethan managed to get a view of King Hum stepping out onto the wooden platform. The people around them started applauding, like the young king was a rock star rather than a monarch. He smiled at his subjects before waving for them to be quiet.

  “Thank you all for joining us tonight,” King Hum shouted, his arms spread wide as if he was going to hug the audience as a whole. “A special thanks to our foreign guests, as well. This feast is in their honor, and no meal is complete without some quality entertainment! That’s why, for the pleasure of Opesian and outsider alike, I present one of our most beloved fables: A Shell Without a Snail. Please enjoy!”

  With a flourish of his arms, the young king stepped off the stage and to his own table, which sat right at the front of the crowd. A woman in a colorful red robe replaced the monarch onstage, beaming at everyone with a rather flawless set of teeth.

  “We will be starting the play shortly,” she announced. “Thank you for your patience.”

  The woman began walking off stage when Tera felt a hand on her polymer shoulder. Turning, she saw the wrinkled face of Orram, who was growing more and more familiar by the hour.

  “The king would like to invite you to join his table,” the adviser said. “You can follow me there if you like.”

  He started to make his way away from them, weaving between the gathered people and the tables. Tera and Ethan, unsure of where else they’d sit, followed the old man.

  King Hum watched Tera and Ethan as they approached his table, but they stopped short when they saw who was seated beside him. Reverend Nidus, still adorning his ominous hood, smirked at the other two foreigners.

  “Ah, Ms. Alvarez and Mr. Myler,” King Hum greeted them. “I’m glad you accepted my invitation.”

  “As am I,” the cult leader said. Even though his ocular receptors were just glowing lights, Ethan couldn’t help but feel like he saw something sinister within them.

  Tera and Ethan stood awkwardly away from the table, a look of surprise on their faces. King Hum followed their gaze to Reverend Nidus, and a look of annoyance crossed his features.

  “This feast is for all our guests, as I said,” Hum said. “Nidus will be joining us. I hope that won’t be an issue.” He looked between his three guests.

  “Not at all,” Tera said after a tense moment. She took a seat at the table on the other side of Hum from the cult leader. Ethan joined her.

  “Excellent,” the young king said, his face lighting up as they got comfortable on the bench. “Despite any differences between us, we are civilized beings and can endure each other’s company for the sake of a good meal.” With an embarrassed look, he turned between Nidus and Tera. “I’m sorry; I don’t know what people like you eat or drink.”

  “We don’t, your grace,” Nidus replied. “But I am still gracious for the offer.”

  “I’ll eat!” Ethan said, reaching for a plate in the middle of the table. The others laughed — even the cult leader.

  The woman in the red robes came back out onto the stage.

  “Your attention, please!” she cried. The crowd quieted to a low murmur. “Without further ado, we present A Shell Without A Snail!”

  She stepped to the side of the stage, but not quite off, and took a seat on a stool waiting onstage for her. A young man came out into the center of the platform, carrying with him a strange looking basket. The thing was painted with beautiful patterns, all symmetric and mesmerizing. The actor himself was painted in a strange, sickly yellow color. He wore a small cap with what looked like long eye stalks — or at least, objects made to look like eye stalks. A timid expression showed through the young actor’s poor makeup job. He stood still, all eyes upon him, waiting for his cue.

  “Enter our snail,” the red-robed woman narrated.

  The actor lifted the painted basket for everyone to see clearly. “This is my brand new shell,” he said — or rather, shouted. “It brings me pride you cannot imagine. I thank God for the day he created it, and
for the day he led me to it. I must show it off to my friends.”

  “Snail’s shell was beautiful, indeed,” the narrator said, beaming out at the crowd from her stool. “So he went to show it off to his friend, Lizard.”

  Another costumed actor stepped onto the stage and walked up to the other. His beard was coated in a dull green layer of makeup, and he dragged what looked like a stuffed stocking behind him. Ethan guessed it was supposed to be a tail, but it required some imagination to picture it as so.

  “Hello, Snail,” the Lizard actor said. His voice was much stronger and more confident than his counterpart’s.

  “Greetings, Lizard,” Snail replied. Then he lifted the painted basket — his shell — up for the other actor to see. “Behold my new shell!”

  Lizard acted stunned by the pure beauty of the thing, gasping and bringing a hand up to his painted cheek. “My scales! I’ve never seen something so lovely!” he exclaimed.

  “It was a gift from God,” Snail said.

  “Then you have been blessed,” Lizard replied, and both turned to face the audience. After a brief pause, the Lizard actor went off stage and was replaced by a woman wearing a robe of feathers.

  “Then he showed it to his friend, Crow,” the narrator said, as if there had been no pause in her previous narration.

  “Behold my new shell!” Snail said to the feathered woman, a bit louder than necessary.

  The woman playing Crow complimented him the same way Lizard had, and the process was repeated with Snail’s friend Horse. Ethan and Tera had difficulty focusing on the play as the same scene repeated, but the monotony was broken when all the other actors cleared the stage, leaving Snail alone in the center.

  “That night, Snail was caught in a terrible storm,” the narrator said. As she did, stagehands from around the platform started to throw what looked like rice over the actor in a poor attempt to mimic rain. Someone pounded a gong, which Tera guessed was supposed to be thunder. Snail flailed around in an attempt to convey terror and panic.