by Boyd Brent
Max shook his head. “A future? If Gull has been incapacitated, they will come for you. The other vessels. They will track you down and kill you. They will come for me too. You have no future.”
“I'll hide.”
“Hide? There is nowhere to hide.”
“What about outside?”
“Outside Goliath? You are delusional. There is no outside. I may still be able to repair the damage. Repair it before any of this is …” David dragged Max over to the chair and strapped him in. He turned and headed for the archways. Max cried out, “Where are you going?”
“To visit my new family.”
David entered the chamber of past vessels and headed for Tyburn. He tore the battleaxe lashed to Tyburn's back free of its bindings and returned to the lab with an expression of premeditated murder on his face. Max's eyes widened. “I'm no threat to you! Gull!” David stopped at the holographic workstation and swung the axe over his head – he held it there, his arms weakening under its weight. He lowered the axe and punched in the activation/deactivation sequence. The image of his brain vanished. With Max's pleas for him to stop reverberating in the background, David lay waste to every piece of equipment in the lab.
After his exertions, David sat on the ground, head in his hands, the axe resting on the wall beside him. Max was muttering quietly to himself in the chair. Every now and again he shook his head and smiled innocently as though events had not been of his making – a maniac rehearsing his defence. David lifted his head from his palms, watched him. Max looked back at him. “You watch me like I'm mad. The damage you've done must have activated the salvage beacon. They will be on their way here.”
“You know that for sure?”
Max indicated his tied wrists with a glance. “How can I know anything for sure?”
“If they're coming, how long?”
“A couple of hours. Maybe less. What of Gull? Is he still talking?”
David shook his head and stood up. He walked towards the archway.
“Where are you going now?”
“To get more weapons.”
“Weapons. You think you can fight them? It's ridiculous! You are a dead man. So everyone keeps telling me.”
David walked up and down within the lines of Gull's previous vessels. The Zeppelin that Max had assigned Gull hovered close to his shoulder, illuminating an area of several square metres. The left-hand sides of the vessels' faces had been mummified, while the right had been allowed to rot away to bone. Men of different colours and nationalities stood here, many of these nationalities now extinct. David's knowledge of the world before the eruptions was scant. As a child he remembered seeing a faded map of Earth. Although David had no reliable memories of his parents, he liked to believe they had shown it to him. He'd been amongst the last generation of children born in Goliath, before the water supply had been contaminated by an unknown agent that had rendered women infertile. They were told that Central Dome were working on the problem, but that whatever happened the future of mankind was assured as those inside remained unaffected. David sank to his knees as though winded. If they wanted to erase empathy, then they had to prevent people becoming parents…
David stood up and tried not to think as he walked up and down the lines of past vessels. He stopped before a man of similar height and build to himself. The man was dressed in ancient-looking garb, with a bronze shield lashed to his right arm. The shield was circular with images of warriors embossed into it. At its centre was the letter C. David tugged on the shield. It came away with the fingers still attached. They snapped off easily enough and clattered down upon the metal base. A macabre way of predicting the future? He shook his head and felt the weight of the shield. It felt good – easy to manoeuvre and solid. David pulled the sword from the man's scabbard – its blade was short, wide, and razor-sharp. He untied the sword's scabbard, which was attached to a belt, which he secured about his waist and slid the sword home. A strap was looped diagonally across the warrior's chest and back. David removed it and put it on. He unpopped a buckle and fastened the shield to it and moved the shield around to rest against his back. He turned to leave, but something caught his eye and he froze.
He stood before a short, stocky man with a weapon slung across his shoulders. The weapon comprised a length of black leather, like a whip, with a fold at one end. The fold contained a lead ball the size of a child's fist. David lifted the weapon off the man's shoulders and stood holding it. He backed away from the throng and swung it in a wide arc about his head – swoosh, swoosh, swoosh, swoosh, swoosh, swoosh. The ball flew from the sling and ploughed through several vessels like butter, sending bone and mummified flesh exploding into darkness. David experienced a familiarity that gave him goosebumps. He stepped forward to retrieve the ball, but a high-pitched wail brought him to his knees. David placed his hands over his ears and screamed, “Guuuull!”
Seven
David was lying on his back and gazing into a dense canopy of trees. “Where are the gods?” A breeze picked up and the trees rustled as though in response. David stood up and reached for a tree, steadying himself. He was dressed exactly as he'd been when he'd collapsed. He heard a twig snap and turned to see Tyburn leaning against a tree. The seven-foot-tall warrior looked in rude health, his heavily-featured, primitive-looking face now fully restored. His lips parted and in Gull's voice he said, “Hello, David.”
“Gull?”
“Yes.”
“I must be dreaming.”
Gull shook his head. “This location shares many aspects with a dream-like state, but we are both here. And the conversation we are having is real.”
“Then where are we?”
“We are inside the left hemisphere of your brain, more specifically your memory. Each of these trees represents a single memory cell. And each is tasked with storing specific information about the things you have encountered in your life: objects, places, people, etc. Beyond this, these memory cells exist to remind you of the specific information they store. And to this end they must compete for your attentions with all the others. This explains why you always have something on your mind. Fortunately for you, I am able to silence them. Much like a lion tamer with a whip. But our walking in such close proximity presents an opportunity for the bolder amongst them … hence the whispers you can hear. I fashioned this environment of course.” Gull spread his arms wide and added, “A fine representation of a forest.”
“Why can't I hear what their whispers are trying to tell me?”
“Would you like to hear them? Hear what they would sound like unrestrained and at such close proximity?” Before David could reply, Gull vanished. The wind rose and tens of thousands of trees tried to communicate with him at once. All these voices sounded identical to his own, and all were desperate to remind him of the memories they stored. David stumbled from tree to tree with his hands clasped to his ears and screamed, “Gull!”
The wind died down and Gull loomed over him. “You see the power I have in here?” David touched his left ear and checked his fingers for blood. “You're still able to quieten my thoughts when you have something to say. But can you still hijack my body?”
Gull sighed. “That question may be best answered by showing you what you have done to me.” Tyburn's left arm and leg dissolved away to bloody stumps, and his face melted as though made from wax, dripping onto his breastplate. Tyburn stood on his remaining leg like a grotesque ornament. David stood up and stepped back. “What do these injuries mean? What do they represent?”
“You wish to know if I can direct you.”
“Can you?”
“Not without considerable repairs. You smile, David, but no good can come of what you have done. My controllers must be prevented from discovering what Max and I have achieved. Otherwise they will deactivate me. And my journey, like yours, will be at an end. Therefore, only one course of action is available to me: I must hack and bludgeon you into a coma. And then burn certain areas of this forest to the ground. There is a 3.
7 percent chance of these actions being successful and covering my tracks. Better than no chance at all.”
“They don't sound like great odds.”
“They are the best I have.”
“So why bring me here? Why not just burn it?”
“The forest will not burn until its essence is placed in a coma. You are that essence.” Tyburn's injuries vanished and David drew his sword. “If you remain still it will be less painful, David.” Gull leapt forward with the speed of a man half his size, then swung the axe above his head and through the spot where David had stood half a second earlier. Gull embraced his momentum, swivelled on one leg, and swung the axe at David again. David leapt back and the axe missed by centimetres. He leapt forward and kicked Gull in the small of his back. Gull was knocked off balance and David turned and ran.
David stopped and leaned against a tree, tried to catch his breath. Gull was fifty metres away and walking toward him with a carefree countenance. He held the axe across his shoulders and whistled a tune that David remembered from his childhood. He stopped whistling and said, “You can't hide from me. Not in here. You should also know I am impervious to harm in this place. Quite indestructible. At least as far as your actions are concerned.”
David ran again. He ran past one tree and then slammed his back against another: the lead ball inside the sling bounced against his thigh. David yanked the sling from his belt. He was about to hurl it away when the leaves of the tree began to whisper. Although he could not make out the words, he understood their meaning. He stepped from behind the tree and swung the sling around his head … swoosh, swoosh, swoosh, swoosh, swoosh. Gull stopped some thirty metres away and watched him.
“Are you going to take your own life?” said Gull. “I have scant knowledge of how to use that weapon, which means, even allowing for seepage …” The lead ball tore through Gull's forehead, which exploded in a shower of red, white and bone. Gull's eyes were now at the top of his head. He cast them down as though checking that his nose and mouth were still intact. David sprinted forward, swung his sword in an arc and severed Gull's right leg. David turned and drew back his sword but the sight before him stole his breath … and he froze. The forest he had sprinted through was gone, and in its place an entire cosmos of stars.
Gull's shoulders jerked as though he wanted to move toward this cosmos. He swayed back and forth, and then toppled forward on his remaining leg like a felled tree. David murmured, “Timber,” and stood transfixed by the sight before and above him. He looked into the heavens, but his gaze was drawn down to an armchair that floated within the cosmos, close to the edge of the clearing. David walked to the edge and stood with his toes touching the cosmos. He sensed a presence at his right shoulder and looked askance into Gull's chest. The giant appeared fully restored but was not holding a weapon. “It is magnificent, isn't it, David?”
David looked up into the infinite reaches of space, billions of stars. “What is this place?”
“It is that which you have and I do not. The thing I covet most.”
“Empathy?”
“No. Imagination.” Gull reached into the void, and his hand dissolved. David looked at Gull's stump … and the hand re-materialised. “Thank you, David. In this place you have the power of creation. Do you feel like a god?”
David reached into the void and withdrew a black rose. “I saw a picture of one once.” He brought the flower to his nose and sniffed. “Creation? This flower isn't real …”
“Isn't it? You have brought it into being within your imagination. As such it is made from the same materials as any flower: atoms, neurons, electrons.”
The flower vanished.
“Does a real flower do that?” said David.
“In time.” Gull glanced forlornly over his shoulder into the forest. “I must contend myself with a version of the left hemisphere – a place where logic and memory and computation reign. My computing brain is far superior to the humans who conceived it within their imaginations. But without this – without imagination – I am cruelly limited.”
“What's the chair for?”
“The chair is yours alone to sit in.” David lifted a leg in readiness to step into space, and then put it down. Gull placed a hand on his shoulder. “If you imagine you will fall then you will.”
“Alright.” A staircase came into being and led up to the chair. As David walked up it, Gull called out, “I would have given myself wings. Or turned myself into a superman.” David reached the top of the thirty-three steps and sat down. “Do you feel like a king, David?” David thought about that, and the chair transformed into a throne. Upon his head a golden crown appeared. “I'm no king.” The throne became a chair and the crown vanished.
Gull smiled, “You are right. In this place you are a god. While those of us confined to this side, to logic and computation, must content ourselves with building and engineering the things that are brought into creation here.”
They heard Max's voice cry out, “Gull? Gull? Can you hear me?” Max's question travelled like a comet from the farthest reaches of the cosmos, flying over their heads, and crashing down into the forest of the left hemisphere where it sprouted a bud. Max's voice again, “Gull? Unless you assume control of this vessel, I must place him in a coma.”
David turned in his seat and observed another comet on the same trajectory as the first. “You see that, David?” said Gull, “how information is received from the outside through the right hemisphere where your imagination is located … and how it comes to rest in the left hemisphere to be stored as memory. You are the first human in history to observe this process.”
David pushed himself out of the chair. “I need to get out of here now!”
“Out? You must remain here. Let Max inject and place you in a coma. You will feel no pain. And then I can burn what must be burnt,” said Gull, motioning to the forest of trees behind him.
“You really want to go with those odds of not getting caught? 3.7 percent? We can run.”
“Run?”
“Go outside Goliath.”
“No human can survive outside. You are not thinking logically, David.”
“Look at me. Look where I'm standing: inside that which you say you covet most … my imagination. And with it I envisage hope … hope beyond logic.”
“Hope beyond logic?”
“For us both. You want to learn more. About imagination? About empathy? You said so yourself, I'm the last of my kind. This is your chance. You can take it or go back to being a slave. But only if you get incredibly lucky with those odds.” Gull turned his back on David and folded his arms across his chest. David watched him.
David awoke in the cavern with a gasp. Max was standing astride him holding a syringe. “Change of plan,” said David, slamming a fist into Max's face. The old man collapsed on top of him, unconscious. David rolled him off and sat up. Gull spoke to him, but his voice was distant and accompanied by static interference. “SAPH will already be on their way here. We must reach the craft as soon as possible.” David got up and moved towards the exit. “You've made the right choice, Gull.”
“Time will tell. You should know that my radar has been incapacitated. I am unable to see. I have already begun repairs. And hope to have it functioning on a rudimentary level quite soon. In the meantime, you possess our only eyes. I suggest you remain alert.” David sprinted under one archway and then another and another. He emerged into the main chamber and froze. Gull's voice sounded closer now but the interference remained. “Since you have already destroyed the lab we can leave. Now.”
The door that led out to the Colosseum was open. David ran outside and paused at the bottom of the stairs. The odd speck of lighted ash landed at his feet and went out. David drew breath and took the stairs two at a time. At the top he walked quickly to the edge of the Colosseum, placed a hand on a pillar and leaned forward, studying the expanse. The craft was parked dead-centre with its doors open. David sprinted over, climbed in and closed the doors. The craft ro
se into the air. “Where's it going, Gull?”
“It is on a preset course to the holding cell.”
“We need to alter that.”
“Yes. Where are you taking us?”
“Turbine exit 12. I have a retinal pass … and from there we can get outside.”
Eight
David searched the outer limits of his vision, as far as the ash permitted. He knew the Needles were close now, and before long the towers that held aloft the outer webbing of Goliath's southern perimeter emerged from the gloom.
The craft descended outside Turbine Exit 12. David climbed out and surveyed the area. “Good news,” said Gull. “The repairs to my radar are progressing well. It is functioning again … at 47 percent.”
“That's just great …”
“There is no need for sarcasm, David. We are a team now. Just as you wanted. I can detect no heat signatures for several hundred metres in any direction.”
David made his way to the retinal reader located to the left of the entrance. He looked into the reader and the doors began to open. David darted through and approached a keypad on the other side. He punched in a ten-digit code, and the doors began to close. David walked across the holding area and repeated this process at the next set of doors. He lowered his head and stepped into the ash-filled blizzard beyond.
The entrance to the Turbine Complex was fifty metres away. He would need to pass through the complex and exit it on the other side, beyond which lay the outside world. The unknown.
David went down some steps and entered the underground craft park. He made his way through the craft park and climbed the ramp that led to the elevators. He walked past the elevators and entered an empty security station, then crossed the room to a bank of 3D screens. On the floor above, it appeared to be business as usual for his colleagues. Gull said, “I suggest you change into the uniform of a security officer.”
“Alright.” David crossed the room to a locker.
