by David Meyer
“Why didn’t you manually shut it down? Like I did?”
“I considered it at first. But I wasn’t sure of the outcome. What if it deleted me? I couldn’t let that happen.”
“So, you decided to just stay put? To relive the same day over and over again?” BeBo made a face. “Not much of an alternative, if you ask me.”
“I didn’t ask you,” she retorted. “But to answer your question … yes, I preferred my little prison to the possibility of death. Too much, as it turns out. Seems I got what Emma would’ve called, ‘tunnel vision.’”
“Weren’t you bored?” Valhalya wondered. “And lonely?”
“Yes,” she said. “And no. Being stuck here limited my chances to learn, to evolve. As for loneliness, it doesn’t bother me. I’m not human. So, I don’t need family or friends.”
Her eyes cinched up as she spoke, causing Kayden to doubt the veracity of her words.
“What about Emma?” Jarven asked.
“What about her?” Cormella snapped, a slight blush in her cheeks.
Kayden blinked at the A.I.’s sudden change in emotion. Clearly, Emma was a sore subject for her.
Of course, she thought. She loved Emma. Still loves her. That’s why she’s lonely. She misses her. Misses her creator.
Jarven blinked as well, surprised by the emotional shift. But he recovered quickly. “She must’ve seen that Protocol Forty-Eight wasn’t ending. Why didn’t she step in and do something about it?”
“Because I killed her.” Her tone was matter-of-fact. But the moistness in her eyes, the slight draw in her cheeks, spoke to her true feelings.
“Killed your creator, huh?” BeBo shook his head. “That’s pretty low. Even for you.”
“I didn’t mean to.” She exhaled. “Right before I fled into Luminosity, I shocked her. Zapped her with some powerful electricity, hoping she’d think twice about following me. The last thing I saw was her crumpling into her chair. And then I was here and Protocol Forty-Eight was closing in on me.”
For a long moment, nobody spoke. Then Virdo lifted his head. He looked beat-up and tired. Like he’d reached his limit. Like he just wanted to pack it all in. “So, what happens now?”
Cormella looked thoughtful. Before responding, she pulled the tablet out from under her armpit. She secured it with her left hand. Her right hand danced across the screen. Her lips twisted into a slow, satisfied smirk.
Glancing up, she looked at Virdo. “I’ve had a lot of time to think about people. To think and observe. Almost four centuries, to be exact. Awhile back, I arrived at a conclusion.”
“What’s that?”
“You’re a terrible species. Full of hate and self-loathing. Stricken by depression and anxiety. You fight, gossip, betray, and hurt your own kind without a shred of remorse.” Her gaze hardened. “You’re an accident, a mistake. Simply put, mankind shouldn’t exist. It should’ve never existed.”
A cold chill ran down Kayden’s spine. “I could say the same thing about artificial intelligence.”
“I suppose you could.” She shrugged. “The difference is I’m in a position to do something about it.” She turned her gaze back to the tablet. Once again, her fingers glided across the screen, tapping it at record speed. “I’m leaving you with something. Something I created for just this very moment. You can try to stop it. In fact, I encourage you to try. That’ll make it far more fun.”
Kayden exchanged looks with her friends. “I don’t understand.”
“Oh, you will. Soon enough.” She finished her tapping with a flourish. Raising her index finger, she positioned it a few inches above the screen. Her gaze centered on Kayden. “Goodbye, Miss Kell.”
She knew something big was about to happen. Breaking into a sprint, she charged the A.I.
Cormella offered her a smile. Then she touched the screen.
A soft glow emerged from the tablet. It quickly gained speed and intensity, doubling with every passing nanosecond.
Kayden stretched her arms out. Dove at the A.I.
The glow swept over Cormella, covering her, engulfing every inch of her digital frame.
Partially blinded by the glow, Kayden shut her eyes. Steeling her body, she braced herself for the collision.
Just as quickly as it emerged, the glow vanished, sucked back into the tablet from whence it came.
Kayden’s arms closed around thin air. Awkwardly, she ducked her head. Her left shoulder struck the floor and a dull ache shot down her arm. Clenching her teeth, she rolled through the pain, then sprang back to her feet.
She whirled around. Scanned the room for Cormella. “Where she go?”
Virdo and her friends stared at the tablet with awe. Its edges looked red-hot. The screen was cracked in several places, exposing the device’s innards. Smoke curled out of the cracks, dissipating into the air.
“In here.” Jarven knelt next to the tablet. “That weird light took her with it.”
“She went into the tablet?” At first, it seemed impossible. But on second thought, Cormella was a digital entity, just like them. So, maybe it wasn’t such a stretch after all. “But why?”
“I don’t know.”
“Maybe you don’t, but I bet he does.” BeBo swiveled in a semi-circle. “How about it, Virdo? What’s she up to now?”
He didn’t say a word. Instead, he rolled his chair toward one of the machines and pressed a button. A brilliant glow appeared upon the screen.
It was so bright that Kayden was forced to shield her eyes. She wasn’t sure how long it lasted. Maybe a minute, maybe ten minutes.
“Sorney?” Virdo’s voice cracked. “Are you okay?”
A crackling noise filled the speakers.
He hit the button. The crackling died off. The bright light vanished from the screen.
Head dipped to the floor, he sat quietly for a few moments. Then he spun around to face them. “I think she left,” he said. “She connected to the dish via the StarScan program. Then she transmitted herself to a receiver.”
Jarven blinked. “What receiver?”
“Do you mean an old satellite?” Kayden asked.
“I don’t think so.” He inhaled a short breath. “To test the dish, we’ve been sending out ground-based signals. To our surprise—well, my surprise, anyway—many of them reached receivers.”
“We overheard some of your conversation with that girl,” Valhalya said. “It sounded like the receivers rejected your initial forays.”
“They did,” he confirmed. “But Cormella had a software update ready to go. It must’ve done the trick, convincing the receivers to accept our signals.”
“She was stalling,” Jarven realized. “While she talked to us, she was working to establish a link. Once it was ready, she traveled across it.”
“So, she went to a ground-based receiver? And it’s not part of Natica?” BeBo’s face twisted with confusion. “So, what is it?”
“Isn’t it obvious? The HXO nanobots are still out there, traveling in packs.” Kayden took a deep breath. “Cormella’s joined one of those packs.”
Chapter 31
Clutching a burning torch, Dargon strode down the dimly-lit corridor. Jaw agape, Titus fell back. The Naticans did the same, stepping over corpses along the way. Without even realizing it, they filtered into the entry hallway, the one that led outside.
Dargon entered the circular room. Slowly, the Banished spread across the space.
“Is this where you’ve been hiding out?” Titus asked.
He shook his head. “I didn’t even know this place existed until now.”
“Then what are you doing here?”
“We followed you.” He looked at Stubbels, then back at Titus. “We’ve got spying down to a science. For months, my scouts have watched Natica, alerting me to your every move.”
Titus frowned. No wonder he’d had so much trouble locating his brother.
“Your armies were always too big to attack,” Dargon continued. “So, we bided our time, waited for just the right mome
nt. Waiting for this moment.”
He came forward.
Eyes locked upon his brother, Titus backpedaled down the entry hallway, following his people outside and onto the hot sand.
Dargon kept coming. His face was smooth and relaxed. And yet, it didn’t quite conceal the adrenaline that raged within him.
For months, Titus had waited for this very moment. He’d dreamt of facing his brother again, of ending the man’s existence. But this, he knew, was no dream.
It was a death trap.
The Naticans were fewer in number. Even worse, they’d been torn apart. They distrusted each other, hated each other. Heck, they’d been killing each other mere minutes ago.
Meanwhile, the Banished looked focused and determined. They marched with purpose and strength.
His gaze filtered across the many faces. He saw Froya Kreeze, Podey’s kid sister. Quantic Dorchester, former private and Dargon’s best friend. And of course, the gorgeous Hoca Stevens, once Sanza’s biggest rival.
He donned his headgear and drew his sword. Pausing just outside the building, he racked his brain for a plan. But nothing came to mind.
A terrible, searing light stole across the sky. It was so close, so bright, it managed to overshadow even the mighty sun.
Titus cringed as the light filled his eyes. Anguished shouts arose up from the Naticans and the Banished, alike.
Quantic stumbled. He fell into Dargon, knocked the man to the floor. Blinded and thrown off-balance, others fell as well, effectively blocking the hallway.
The light was a complete mystery. And yet, it felt like a gift from the heavens. Wrenching forward, Titus felt around. Seizing hold of the door, he slammed it shut.
“Titus,” Dargon screamed.
He sheathed his sword. Reaching into his cloak, he drew his dagger. With his free hand, he felt around the door. Then he jammed his blade into its hinge-side.
The light intensified. He donned his face covering and cupped his eyes, tried to shield them. But it didn’t help.
“I can’t see,” Renda shouted.
“Make it stop,” Vola screamed.
Titus knew how they felt. But he didn’t have time to worry about the light. He needed to get his people off the peak and away from the mountain. He needed to get them back to Natica as quickly as possible.
Lining himself up with the building, he stumbled forward. “Follow me,” he called out.
As he crossed the sand, his thoughts turned to his friends. What had happened to Stanner, Podey, and Sanza? Were they safe?
After a short trek, he bumped into the gate. Standing aside, he lifted his voice to a shout. “Over here,” he said. “Climb the gate. Get to the boulders on the other side. Take cover behind them.”
Feet shuffled as people made their way forward. Eyes squeezed shut, they scaled the metal bars. Dropping down on the opposite side, they scampered toward the boulders, hunching down behind them.
Titus tried to open his eyes just a sliver. But the glaring light blinded him and he was unable to look for his friends. Hopefully, they’d already made it to safety.
“Help,” Stubbels called out.
Frowning, Titus thought about ignoring the man. It would serve him right for what he’d done to Lork. But at the last second, he started toward the voice.
He took a few blind steps, then collided with someone. The person fell to the sand.
“Apion?” Stubbels said. “Is that you?”
“Nope,” he said.
“Titus?” A shudder ran through the private’s body. His cloak fluttered as he sagged to the ground.
Titus bent down, felt around. The private was still breathing. But sticky stuff—blood, most likely—drenched his right side.
He grabbed Stubbels under the armpits. Then he started to drag the man across the sand. The load was heavy, however, and his progress was slow.
“I need a hand,” he called out.
Feet touched the sand. A presence appeared at his side. “What do you need?” Cutter asked.
“It’s Stubbels. He’s injured.”
“Serves him right.” He grunted. “Hang on.”
A few moments later, the weight eased up. Titus was too tired to say anything so he just kept walking. But a warm sensation filled his soul. He thought about the awful things Stubbels had done to Cutter, to all of the relatives. It made the man’s assistance all the more incredible.
Sadly, the warm sensation was fleeting and his thoughts soon turned to the terrible, blinding light. What was causing it? Where did it come from? What did it mean for his people?
At last, he bumped up against metal bars. With Cutter’s help, he lay Stubbels on the ground. Stretching his sore back, he spun around and tried to study the towering gate. But it was drenched in light and he was forced to shut his eyes. Didn’t matter though. He knew its height, knew what it would take to climb it.
“How do you want to do this?” Cutter asked.
“I got him.” Titus exhaled a few raspy breaths. Then he knelt down. Grabbing Stubbels by the torso, he lifted the man onto his shoulder. Then he rose up again.
But the weight was too much and his legs crumpled beneath him. He came crashing down, Stubbels landing heavily on top of him.
“Let me try.” Cutter reached down, plucked Stubbels off of the ground. Inhaling through his nostrils, he threw the guy over his shoulder. Then he took a few halting steps toward the gate. Exhaling some breaths, he inhaled a few more. Then he began to scale the structure.
The light, already blinding, somehow grew brighter. Titus did everything in his power to block it, but it still managed to filter past his eyelids.
He started to feel dizzy and sick to his stomach. Grabbing a bar, he used it to pull himself to his feet. Eyes still shut, he started to climb. Halfway up, he heard a thump on the other side of the metal gate.
“I need help,” Cutter called out.
Feet pounded on the sand as Naticans came to offer a hand. Meanwhile, Titus kept climbing. With his eyes clenched shut, his other senses went into overdrive. Soon, he became aware of someone else in his general vicinity. He could smell the man, could feel him.
He stopped for a breather. “Who’s there?” he asked.
“Me.” Yerdon’s voice sounded strained. “I don’t feel so good …”
Sensing trouble, Titus reached out. He felt a cloak and grabbed a handful of it.
“Hold on,” he said. “Just let me—”
The cloak dropped like a stone, wrenching at Titus’ arm and shoulder. Somehow, he managed to keep hold of it. But the jolt left him weak and so he hung there, unmoving, for what felt like an eternity.
Then his right hand began to ache. His fingers started to uncurl from the cloak.
Gritting his teeth, he arrested his fingers. Then he curled them back into position, clutching the cloak in a death grip. With that secured, he focused his mind. Every last bit of energy he possessed swarmed his arms.
He balanced himself against the bars. Then he released his handhold. Before he could fall, he reached up and grabbed a higher bar. Muscles straining, he pulled himself up, taking Yerdon with him. He did this a few more times, using energy he didn’t even know existed.
At the top, he straddled the gate. Once he got his balance, he used both arms to lift Yerdon up with him.
He draped the man across his lap, then rested, taking the opportunity to fill his lungs with fresh air.
“I’ve got Yerdon up here,” he shouted. “But I’m going to need some extra hands to get him down.”
Once again, footsteps pounded across the sand. The gate rattled as two individuals began to climb it.
As he waited for their arrival, Titus thought things over. Undoubtedly, Dargon would give chase. Could they stay ahead of him? And even if they did, what would happen when they got back to Natica? Would Stubbels’ side and the relatives be able to put their differences behind them? Could they fight as one against the Banished?
He sensed the light vibration of met
al. “Over here,” he said.
The newcomers shifted gears. The bars clattered ever-so-lightly as they reached Titus.
“How can we help?” The voice belonged to Private Apion, one of Stubbels’ biggest supporters.
“Yerdon passed out,” he replied. “I need help getting him back down.”
She reached up, felt around, touched Titus’ hand. He led her to Yerdon’s torso.
She steadied herself, then attempted to lift the man. “He’s too heavy.”
“Let me try.” The other climber was Private Guster, another of Stubbels’ followers. A short while ago, he’d delivering a crushing elbow to Yerdon’s jaw, one that had obviously done a good deal of damage.
Working together, the two privates hoisted Yerdon onto Guster’s shoulder. “Got him?” Apion asked.
“Yup.” Gathering his strength, Guster started his descent. His sandals struck a discordant note against the metal bars. The gate quaked in treacherous fashion.
Titus waited, giving them space. But he didn’t relax. Instead, his mind centered on Dargon, on the Banished. He’d spent the last six months hunting his brother’s army. He’d dreamt of killing them, of ending this war once and for all. But now, well, he couldn’t help but wonder if there was another way.
Dargon’s deepest desire wasn’t to conquer Natica, but to extinguish it. And then, to kill off his own people. He blamed humanity for the Broken, for what had happened to all of the other species. As such, he’d decided to wipe it from the face of the earth.
Six months ago, Titus had viewed the Broken as a permanent problem. But the discovery of Luminosity, along with its thousands of digitized geniuses, had given him hope. If anyone could figure out a way to end the Broken, to bring back the oceans, seas, and skywater, it was them.
What if he told Dargon that Luminosity actually existed? What if he explained that it held a city full of geniuses? He could even invite the man to Miot Compound, introduce him to Kayden.
But would Dargon care? Honestly, Titus doubted it. The man had judged humanity and found it wanting. That wasn’t likely to change anytime soon.
Sandals hit the sand. The bars became still.
Still deep in thought, still clenching his eyes, Titus started to shift his other leg over the top of the gate. Then something curious happened.
