by Paul Anlee
Superior force and might against a perceived outside threat was the obvious and time-tested answer. He had superior might at his disposal, no question of that. The Angels’ energy beams used the RAF as a power source. They spewed hot plasma from a formerly hypothetical early universe at the dawn of its creation and funneled it into this universe. The heat of that plasma came from matter that simply couldn’t exist in this universe. When it found itself here, its matter spiraled through exotic steps as it tried to reconcile its existence with a set of incompatible natural laws.
The problem is how to control the destructive potential without diminishing it? The plasma beam has to be a certain size or it fizzles into nothingness the instant it touches the matter of the real universe. The minimal diameter of the beam gives a range of 17,462 kilometers in vacuum. Perfect for use in space, where they’d designed it to be used.
Here, inside the habitats, air needs to be factored into the equation. He ran the numbers. Great. That reduces the range to 4,173 kilometers. Still, it would be devastating inside a 500-klick long asteroid tunnel.
Trillian’s voice broke into Alum’s thoughts. “They’ve started pulling into formation.”
He opened channels to video feeds throughout the fifteen habitats.
Thousands upon thousands of Cybrids were pouring out of ventilation and service shafts near the poles of every habitat tunnel and drifting skyward, forming enormous, orderly arrays. They floated five hundred yards off the ground, enough to clear the tallest buildings but still cast a shadow on the ground below.
Trillian watched them settle into formations. Two kilometers wide by ten long. At five meters between each Cybrid, every formation is about eight-hundred thousand strong.
The sky’s turning dark with all the Cybrids up there. People are going to be terrified—he thought, with a self-satisfied smile.
If I give in to DAR-K’s demands after this, people will think me a coward, a poor Leader. We can’t have that.
She’s handing me the perception of a serious external threat. All I need now is a tidy solution.
And he needed it fast.
51
DAR-K prepared to lead the Grand March in Vesta One. Everything’s going smoothly so far—she sent to Greg.
He watched nervously from a cafe window a few kilometers away at the northern edge of the habitat city. His cold tea sat untouched.
A handful of customers joined his vigil near the window. They pointed at the habitat tunnel “sky” where Cybrids were assembling in unprecedented numbers.
DAR-K watched and listened through Greg’s senses. The mood was as unfriendly as it was anxious.
“What are they doing now?” Someone asked.
“Not much. Moving into some giant formation.”
“What are they even doing in the habitat? Didn’t Alum tell them to stay out?”
“Who knows what goes on inside their computer brains?”
“When’s Alum gonna do something about it?”
“Yeah, where are those Securitor things?”
“I heard the whole Securitor program got squashed.”
“You mean quashed, honey.”
“Whatever. It’s cancelled. They’re not making anymore.”
“Why?”
“Something to do with a Cybrid crashing into Alum’s office, I hear.”
“Where’d you hear that?”
“I’ve got a friend who works in Security over there.”
“So, what happened?”
“No idea, just that they stopped making Securitors the very next day.”
“But who’s going to protect us now?”
Greg watched and listened without comment. Did you ever imagine that the colonists would talk about needing protection from Cybrids?—he sent to DAR-K.
Not our colonists—she returned. She could imagine him frowning, his brow contracting.
We can’t think that way anymore—he said.
You’re right—she replied. These are the people we have to live with.
And today, we start living together—he affirmed.
Even if we have to force them into accepting us as equals—DAR-K responded.
Kilometers away, Greg winced.
We’re almost ready—she announced. Is everyone in place? I’ll start the broadcast.
Good luck—Greg sent.
As long as Alum does as he promised, we won’t need luck—DARK-K said.
I hope he sticks to what he said—Greg answered. If he betrays the Cybrids, he betrays everyone.
52
Alum computed feverishly, testing multiple hypothetical approaches at once.
Can I funnel an alternate universe through the Angel’s swords?
Can I attenuate the plasma blast?
Can I absorb the blast where it hits the polar rock caps?
He knew there had to be a solution. Finding one he could safely implement in time, that was less certain.
Somewhere in the distant recesses of his consciousness, he registered Trillian’s voice, “They’re starting to move,” and returned his focus to the immediate situation in the tunnels. Video feeds from the habitats showed the Cybrid formations easing away from the poles and drifting toward the habitat centers.
Even knowing that it was coming, he jumped at the onset of the strong, voice that began its address across all channels.
Alum, Governing Council, Vesta colonists, we urge you to hear us!
We Cybrids have worked tirelessly for the survival of humanity since the Earth was taken from us all by the Eater, the gray dome that absorbed the planet.
We hollowed out tunnels in these asteroids. We filled them with air and water mined from distant parts of the solar system. We provided light, warmth, and electricity. We planted crops, trees, and grasses. We stocked lakes and fields with fish, birds, and mammals. We constructed your homes. We built, and continue to build, the vast majority of the objects you use every day.
Up until now, we have asked only for electricity, fuel for propulsion, maintenance, and access to virtual worlds where our minds can drift to relax and enjoy our existence.
We work without hesitation, without negotiation, because in our hearts we are human, like you. Our brains are constructed differently from yours, but our thoughts, feelings, and dreams are human. We bear the heritage of the thoughts and dreams of our forbearers, the humans who selected to have their minds copied into our lattices.
Despite our internal humanity and our ceaseless contributions to make your lives better, your government denies us the right to fully participate in this society, to move freely within the habitats, to vote, to speak, to represent, or to help decide our shared future.
We march today not to intimidate, or demand, or take.
We march to ask you to recognize our full rights, to tear down the artificial barriers that have excluded us from society, to recognize and honor our contribution, and the gift of those individuals who gave their minds to serve the greater good of humanity. We march today only that we may be invited to participate in the full, rich life of these habitats that we have built. All we ask is that we be invited to work and enjoy life alongside our biological brothers and sisters.
Before I was DAR143147, you knew me as Dr. Kathy Liang. I remember a time not so long ago when all our brothers and sisters toiled side by side with joy, biologicals and Cybrids together, to build a place for all of humanity to survive and prosper.
I ask you to recognize the personhood and citizenship of all Cybrids so that we may find our way back to the better relationships and times we once enjoyed, and so that we may progress together as the descendents of our Earthly ancestors. Thank you.
Alum gritted his teeth
as the Cybrid broadcast. He had to admire the words and the sentiment. DAR-K was likely to win over many who listened to her. Her plan to bring public pressure to bear on the office of the Director had been flawless from the start.
I could take the high road, be the magnanimous leader—he thought. T
hough it goes against everything holy, I could grant them what they want. I could bring the machines into the fold of humanity.
For seconds, he sat on the verge of doing as DAR-K asked.
Then one of his larger computational units pinged him with an update.
Other potential universes can be reached—it said.
The mathematics flooded into his primary brain. The CPPU that found the answer, four times larger than a standard Cybrid brain, summarized its computations with a specific recommendation.
Milliseconds later, Alum Prime, the biological coordinator of his millions of larger and lesser sub-minds, made the executive decision, transmitted the new parameters to the specialized RAF generators in the Angels’ swords, and relayed instructions to the Angel leadership:
“Engage the Cybrids as they approach the center of the habitats, not before. Target the ones in tight clusters and narrow columns first. Avoid striking the habitat walls and floors with your energy beams. The caps can take a limited number of incidental blasts but they’re vulnerable. The more distance you can put between your energy beams and the caps, the better. Aim upward at the ceilings, wherever possible. Your goal is maximum loss of marching Cybrids with minimum collateral damage. Diminish their ranks until you achieve unconditional surrender from the rest. Use entangled channel 16 to position yourselves for attack. Go!”
He seconded every starstep in the habitats and shifted every Angel he had into the central regions of the different habitats.
Angels popped into existence on starstep platforms in town squares and major plazas all over the middle kilometer of each habitat tunnel.
The breathtaking beauty of the imposing, chrome figures with flawlessly sculpted faces and magnificent wings could not overcome the sense of danger they emanated. The sudden, unannounced appearance in force, and the ominous black swords fastened to the side of their soft, white breechcloths hinted at their readiness for violence.
Alum’s winged protectors stood silently as people scurried from the plaza, then they turned their attention to the north and south and scanned the soft blue skies for approaching formations.
The Cybrid rebels were still dozens of kilometers from the habitat centers. The Angels would have time to take up the best attack positions.
They shifted to nearby rooftops and waited.
53
DAR-K transmitted the speech nine times. It’s almost over—she thought. We’ll be arriving at the habitat centers in a few minutes, and Alum will make his announcement as promised. We’ll finally be recognized as human. We’ll get our rights.
The Grand March was a perfect reflection of Cybrid organization and, so far, every detail had gone perfectly.
Thanks to Greg—she remembered. I mean Darak...Greg. The man confused her.
She remembered being Kathy Liang in the happiest of times, when her love for Greg Mahajani was still growing. She admired his insight and intellect, and she knew how much he respected her. Adored me.
She remembered the contentment that came with fulfilling work, shared with someone she loved. She remembered the intense connection through a common goal. She remembered long walks in the forest and along the seawall. She remembered the warm glow of quiet moments.
But those were all Kathy Liang’s memories. They didn’t belong in the mind of a two-meter carboceramic shell with electromechanical tentacles for arms.
The slow drift down the length of Vesta One was boring. The huge formations of Cybrids did nothing threatening; they just floated along the habitat tunnels, repeatedly broadcasting DAR-Ks speech to the humans below.
DAR-K monitored the news channel, social media, and the reaction of the crowds below. Mostly, it was just a lot of chatter. As usual, humans had no compunction about sharing their opinions, however ill-informed they were.
The general consensus was leaning toward outrage: Cybrids have no rights! They’re not creatures of God! Alum should ignore them!
Only a few people publicly acknowledged the essential role Cybrids played in constructing and maintaining the habitats. Probably Jared’s people.
They’d agreed on a concerted effort among Progressive Justice party members to man their workstations, tablets, and phones. They would work to keep the dialog positive, to educate where needed, and to correct misconceptions and rumors as soon as they got started. And a very small, politically-astute cadre would slip in subtle hints of threat.
A carrot up front and a stick behind—DAR-K smiled to herself. Some people don’t respond to broad pleas for justice. They only become open-minded if the message strikes close to home, if they know the victim personally or perceive themselves as the ones being persecuted, or when positive messages are accompanied by a little pressure or intimidation. So long as it’s not too overt.
Actually, the small, covert task force didn’t so much threaten as “raise awareness,” at least that was the term they used.
They developed the hints gently and obliquely. For the most part, they simply posed questions or comments within the hearing of strategically selected individuals. Questions like, “What would happen if all the Cybrids were to suddenly leave?” The targeted individuals needed to feel they were the ones to first recognize the potential problems.
If nothing else, influencers have enormous egos.
DAR-K tracked the Cybrid formation approaching from the southern polar cap of Vesta One.
They’re almost in place. Alum, are you ready? She activated the recorded speech one last time.
Upon the first few words, magnificent winged beings appeared in front of the Cybrid columns, and pointed their swords down the length.
The powerful energy beams cut through the Cybrid formations like high-pressure water cannons through a flock of pigeons.
Scores of Cybrids were incinerated by the devastating beams before anyone could raise an alarm.
Tunnel beams!—DAR-K thought. Surely, Alum wouldn’t be so foolish as to unleash the tunnel-drilling energy inside a habitat. Would he? The risk was too great. If any of the blasts hit the walls, they would threaten the whole habitat. Would he endanger his own people to stop us?
He might—she realized.
The Angels moved to other columns and blasted thousands more Cybrids before DAR-K could overcome her disbelief.
We’re under attack by the Angels. And they’re shifting!—she sent to Greg.
We can’t outrun beings that can shift. She sent the order to scatter, and requested updates from the other Grand Marches taking place on Vesta and the two other asteroids.
Frantic reports streamed in from all of the Marches. Angels were attacking her people in all the habitats.
Our precautions were for nothing. Alum set us up!
The Cybrid formations tried to disperse but without the antimatter they’d been instructed to leave at the stations, their maneuvering jets and fans were tragically underpowered and slow.
DAR-K approached the roof of the nearest tall building. She was too exposed there but she didn’t like being unable to see where an attack was coming from.
As she descended—so slow!—she noticed the Angels were only unleashing their deadly rays when they could aim along the length of the habitat.
Split up and head for the side walls—she sent. Now!
In the mass of confusion, Angels shifted furiously, trying to line up as many Cybrids along the centre of the habitat as they could before shooting. Beams that were not in line with the length of the habitat, or that would only catch one or two of the mechanical beings, weren’t worth the risk of damaging the tunnel.
The Angels repositioned themselves along the perimeters and unleashed energy beams from the walls inward. From their new posts, their rays travelled parallel to the walls and slightly inward or upward, toward the thick core of the planetoid.
Down! Everyone, head down!—DAR-K broadcast. Get close to the habitat buildings. Hide along the streets, among the people.
She could imagine the panic that would cause. Cybrids flying among
humans, being pursued by Angels who were firing blasts of deadly energy.
Oh, Alum! What have you done?
54
Greg/Darak tracked DAR-K’s progress, while he monitored the internet and the people next to him in the cafe. The first hours of the Grand March were uneventful. People had been getting bored by the time DAR-K launched her final speech near the middle of the habitat.
Then all hell broke loose.
The first beams sliced through the Cybrid ranks and he heard, first, the surprise, and then the excitement in the cheers around him in the cafe.
Not good. He tried to connect with DAR-K.
For the first few precious seconds, it was impossible to get through to her. The channels are flooded. Or blocked?
DAR-K was too busy analyzing what was happening and figuring out ways to keep her people alive to notice his attempts.
Greg connected to city monitors showing the Cybrids heading back toward the poles, then turning, and heading outward to the habitat walls.
What are you doing DAR-K? Run!
The destructive rays slowed and then stopped. Of course! It came to him. The Angels’ rays are too powerful to use against the walls and floor of the tunnel.
DAR-K sent him a message—They’re shifting!
The Angels materialized at the tunnel walls ahead of the Cybrids. The energy beams sliced through the Cybrid ranks, once again killing by the hundreds.
It’s only a matter of time before an Angel targets her. Greg needed to help. Whether DAR-K wanted it or not, even if she perceived it as a human intervention in a Cybrid problem. I have to do something. I can’t just stand by and let Alum slaughter so many of them.
Deep down, he recognized the truth. I can’t lose Kathy again.
But what can I do against the Angels? I have no weapons. Even if I had one, so what? I’ve never killed anyone.
He laughed aloud at his uselessness. Patrons standing at the window beside his stool threw him a quizzical glance. He ignored them, and they went back to pointing out yet another Angel beam vaporizing more weaponless Cybrids. They cheered each Angel kill.
