Archangel Down: Archangel Project. Book One

by C. Gockel

  “It isn’t my health I’m worried about, dear,” Eliza said.

  6T9 came over to the table; it put his derriere closer than was comfortable to Noa’s nose. He’d thankfully put on a pair of boxer briefs beneath his apron—hot pink boxer briefs—but it was still disquieting. She found herself leaning away from him. Where he sat between Eliza and Noa, one of James’s eyebrows rose.

  “If not your health, then what, darling?” 6T9 said, leaning over the table, putting a hand on Eliza’s shoulder. His expression was such a facsimile of human concern that Noa nearly shivered. She didn’t mind ‘bots that looked like ‘bots, but the ones that looked human and talked like humans made her uneasy. It was, as her military psyche training taught her, too easy to bond with a human-like ‘bot—a faulty glitch in the emotional centers of the human brain. For that reason, military ‘bots never looked human, so no commander ever felt guilty sending a drone on a self-destruct mission.

  Eliza was silent. Noa’s eyebrows rose. 6T9 hadn’t heard her conversations, and Eliza hadn’t told 6T9 that possessing a ‘bot was illegal … If she had, 6T9 might have wiped his memory and turned himself in. Eliza was risking her life for a ‘bot … Noa rubbed her temples. If she didn’t need Eliza’s money, she might call her on it. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught James’s gaze on her, inscrutable, emotionless, and probably judgmental. She got the feeling he didn’t approve of 6T9. She wished she could reach him through the ethernet to reassure him that she didn’t approve of 6T9 either.

  “You contributed to the premier’s campaign fund,” said 6T9, snapping Noa back to the present.

  “What?” said Noa, eyes going wide in alarm. Apparently, Eliza had been discussing some politics with her ‘bot. James sat up straighter in his chair.

  Waving a hand at Noa and James, Eliza said, “Don’t worry, I never supported his policies.”

  “Then why did you fund him?” James said.

  “Because he was going to win,” Eliza snapped.

  “You said contributing to his campaign fund would protect you against vicious gossip and wagging tongues,” said 6T9. “That’s what you’re afraid of, right?” He shook his head and tsked. “You shouldn’t be. Gossip won’t kill.”

  Noa sighed. Gossip was all the danger 6T9 could conceive of, she supposed. It was probably beyond his processing power to understand that they were in the midst of a genocide.

  Turning to 6T9, voice soft, Eliza said, “My money won’t protect me anymore, dear.”

  6T9’s head tilted to the side. “Why not?”

  Eliza gave a wry smile. “Because I don’t think there will be any more elections.”

  “But that is part of the charter, elections every six years,” 6T9 protested.

  “They will change it,” said Eliza.

  Next to her, James sighed and put down his spoon. “If history is any indication they’ll find a way.”

  Noa took a deep breath. “Yep.”

  Eyes glued to Eliza, 6T9 said, “I do not understand.”

  “Don’t worry about it, darling,” said Eliza.

  6T9’s expression softened immediately. “Okay.” He smiled a smile of utter peace and contentment—because an end to worry was simple as an order when you were a ‘bot.

  Stroking her beads, Eliza said, “Why don’t you go upstairs, prepare some towels and clothes for Noa and James, too. You gave them separate rooms, right?”

  6T9 nodded, and Eliza smiled brightly. “I’ll join you shortly.”

  6T9’s smile dropped. Dipping his chin, he raised an eyebrow and then winked at Eliza, giving a look that Noa supposed would be “smoldering” … if you didn’t know it came from a ‘bot. She glanced between James’s light features, and 6T9’s more conventional tan skin and brown eyes. Both of them were two of the most beautiful examples of masculinity she’d been around in a while. And she wasn’t attracted to either of them, for very different reasons. She smiled bitterly to herself. It was unfair, but sadly convenient.

  “I will be expecting you,” 6T9 said in a low voice.

  Putting a hand to her chest, Eliza giggled like a schoolgirl. “Yes, sir.”

  Noa rolled her eyes as 6T9 prowled out of the room. As soon as he was out of sight, Noa turned back to Eliza. “You see why this is so important, then.”

  Looking at the table, Eliza fidgeted with her place mat. “Yes … but I must consider my options. 9.633 years … ”

  “There is a faster way,” said Noa.

  Eliza’s eyes narrowed. “You said you need money to help finance a mission … I know you have no ship, so you must be stealing one, and I don’t know how you can get by the grid … ”

  “I have a plan. But the less you know the better.”

  “So you say,” said Eliza, looking away. “To get past the blockade you’d need either a very big ship or a very small one, but a very small one wouldn’t last in deep space … a big ship … ” she rocked in her chair.

  Eliza’s eyes slipped to James. He was dipping a roll in a plate of rinseed oil. It struck Noa that he looked too big for the tiny table, and just the simple act of dipping the bread seemed a feat of difficult maneuvering for his large frame.

  “Are you privy to the whole plan?”

  James put the bread down. “Yes.”

  Noa prepared herself for Eliza to pry him for details, but instead she said, “What do you think of it?”

  “That it is near suicidal,” James replied.

  “And yet you are going along with it,” Eliza said. Her voice had become softer as the night had worn on. Her eyes were drooping. “May I ask why?”

  One of James’s eyebrows rose as they did when he was telling a joke. “I’m still asking myself that.”

  “You are a wry one,” Eliza chuckled. “And what is your answer?”

  James was quiet for a long time. Noa found herself shifting in her seat.

  “I am a hyper-augment … ” His head ticked, and straw-blonde hair fell into his eyes. He pushed it back. “I don’t have a lot of options, and … ” He looked at Noa, and then away and shrugged.

  Eliza stared at a spot on the table between her and Noa. “This is a big decision for me.”

  Noa’s jaw got hard. “So many lives are at stake, Eliza.” Kenji’s life was at stake. Her thumb went to the stumps of her fingers.

  “Including my life,” the old woman said.

  Noa sat back in her seat. “You’re a founder of the colony … surely if you just got rid of 6T9 … ”

  Eliza’s nostrils flared.

  Noa felt her skin heat in anger. “He is a ‘bot.”

  “But I’m not,” Eliza said.

  “Of course not,” Noa said, not sure where this was going.

  Eliza’s eyes became pained. “You think he is just a sex toy, but he’s not. He’s my hands, my arms, my legs.” Her hand shook. “My body is falling apart, no one can fix that at this point; but my mind is still alive thanks to nanos and apps. Without 6T9, they’ll find some way to put me in a home. They don’t allow nano flushes or apps anymore.” Her eyes dropped. “I’ll become a vegetable.” For a moment it looked like Eliza might burst into tears.

  Noa released a breath. “Eliza … ” She reached toward the old woman.

  “And if I’m going to die,” Eliza said, “I want to be having as much sex as I can with the most beautiful man I can for as long I can.”

  Noa’s hand fell.

  Eliza’s thin eyebrows waggled, and she giggled, her bony shoulders rising. “He really is excellent,” she whispered. “It took me centuries to get lovin’ like I’ve got now.”

  From the doorway came 6T9’s voice. “Did you call me, Eliza?”

  Eliza turned to him. “No, I … ” Her brow creased even more. “Actually, I think I could use your help getting up the stairs.”

  6T9 strode into the kitchen, thankfully wearing pajama bottoms. “You know I live to sweep you off your feet.”

  “Eliza … ” Noa said.

  Eliza waved her hand. “Yo
u know where the spare rooms are … I’ll give you my answer in the morning. I need to sleep on it.”

  Kneeling beside her, 6T9 said, “I hope you won’t sleep too much.”

  Eliza waggled her eyebrows again and let him help her into his arms. “Oh, you … ” she giggled as 6T9 gently stood, nuzzling her neck as he carried her from the room.

  Noa put her elbows on the table and stared at her bowl of half-eaten soup. She dropped her head in her hands.

  “That sounded like a ‘probably not’?” James said.

  Noa felt sick to her stomach. She was asking Eliza to give up more than a toy. She was asking her to give up her freedom, her independence … and her very life.

  “What do we do now?”

  Head still in her hands, Noa sighed. “Sleep, I guess.”

  “I meant if she says no?”

  Noa rubbed her eyes. “I have no idea.”

  * * *

  When Noa woke from a nightmare at 25:43 Luddeccean Time, even though James was dozing, he knew it. Since he’d awakened in the snow, he had been unable to truly sleep. His body was still, his eyes were closed, his breathing was slowed, his temperature was lower than normal, and memories were tripping through his mind in a semi-dreamlike way. At the same time his mind almost dreamed, there was, off in the corners of his neural net, a running inventory of what was still going on around him—minus vision, of course. At 01:00, Noa went downstairs and he heard her start to pace back and forth. That brought him out of his semi-conscious state. With his augmented hearing, even from the second floor he could hear her sigh.

  It was comfortably warm in the room. He hadn’t even bothered with a sheet. The bed was as large as the one in his parents’ cottage, and as comfortable. But it was the first time he’d slept without Noa since he arrived in Luddeccea. When she wasn’t with him, there was a part of him looking for her. He supposed that was because she had been the one constant since he arrived.

  Sitting up, he shook off the last vestiges of his doze—an image of Ghost’s face flickering from a perfect hologram—and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. Just before he stood up, he caught sight of the skin of his arms. He swallowed … and part of him registered that was a very peculiar reaction to unease. Was he trying to devour his disquiet? It didn’t work; the strange markings on his skin had him still on edge. Earlier when he’d taken a shower, the strange tattoos had risen in stark black relief on his skin. They hadn’t disappeared like they normally did; they’d only faded. He exhaled sharply. They always made him nervous, but they were too regular to be some nano-inspired tumor. He closed his eyes. He could do nothing about them right now. If he abandoned Noa and made a run for the Northwest or Northeast Province, it was doubtful he could find anyone with the experience and equipment to explain all the aspects of his hyper-augmentation to him. If they succeeded with Noa’s plan, on Earth he’d reunite with his parents. They could help him recover the memories locked away in his mind. James drew his hand across the slightly raised flesh of the designs. When they were faint, they looked less like a leaf pattern and more like ... feathers. The thought made him bolt up from the bed. He pulled on the long-sleeved train operator uniform shirt before he left the room to hide the tattoos—from either himself or Noa, he didn’t know which.

  Minutes later, he found Noa in the room with the chess board. She was standing by a bookshelf, staring at a small glowing hologlobe. In it, many people, all facing the camera, were smiling back at her. As he padded forward, Noa jumped. Spinning in his direction, her body dropped to a semi-crouch before she caught herself and stood up straight. Carl Sagan poked his bewhiskered nose out from between some books.

  Wrapping her arms around herself, Noa asked, “Did I wake you?”

  James shook his head. “I wasn’t really sleeping.” Which was the truth, if not the full extent of it. He walked toward the holo, and his head tilted. He saw Noa in the holo, near the front. She looked to be about twelve. An older man had his arm draped protectively over her shoulder, and the younger Noa had her own arm wrapped around a boy slightly shorter than her. Noa’s mouth was split in a wide grin, and she had her chin resting on the boy’s shoulder. The boy wasn’t smiling, but he had one of Noa’s hands in his. No one in the holo shared Noa’s unique coloring, but … “They are your family,” he said. He could see Noa’s small, delicate, rounded nose on a man’s face, her wide lips on another woman, her brows on another, her high cheekbones on someone else. The boy whose shoulder her chin rested on looked like Noa, but he was tan instead of dark brown, his eyes were so light they were almost gold, and he had wavy hair instead of her tight curls.

  Pointing to the boy, Noa said, “That is my brother, Kenji.” Her thumb caressed the place her missing fingers would have been. She bowed her head, touched the globe, and it went dark. She touched another globe, and it flickered to life, casting her profile in sharp relief. Like him, she’d taken a shower. She also must have cut her hair. It was now tight against her head and paradoxically looked thicker than before. The angle of the light emphasized the indentations of the scars on her cheek and forehead, but also her high cheekbones, her full lips, her wide eyes, and the overall smoothness of her dark skin––the way the bluish light caressed it, it looked almost like velvet.

  “The older woman at the center, that is Eliza,” Noa said, pointing at the new holo. James followed her finger. In the holo, there was a man and a woman who both appeared to be about sixty, if they weren’t augmented. Around them stood eight younger men and women. There was something restrained in their expressions. They weren’t smiling as brightly as the people in the other holo.

  “That is her late husband and children. It must have been taken about twenty years after the colony was founded.” Her brow furrowed. “Eliza had twelve kids … the original settlers favored big families.”

  James stared at the globe. Sometimes a cold or flu swept across Earth. He’d even caught one that had kept him flat on his back for a week while the nanos cleaned him up, but he’d never known anyone who’d died in an epidemic. “There are eight in this holo … ”

  “Yes,” Noa said. “Four more died in another epidemic. Her husband died, too. I think it must have been shortly after this holo was made—he was maybe forty-seven?”

  “Forty-seven … but they look so much older than that in this holo.”

  Noa shrugged. “Life was hard then.” She shook her head. “It was some sort of virus. Caused a disease like meningitis. He wouldn’t take a nano-treatment. Eliza and the children that survived did.” Noa’s brow furrowed. “I think that is when she started to reject the Luddeccean philosophy. She bought a lot of land after the virus wiped out half of the first, second, and third wave settlers. Sold it and used it to send her kids to Sol System for school. Three didn’t come back. The other—her last daughter—died a few years back.”

  James drew closer to Noa. “Why didn’t Eliza leave?”

  Noa sighed. “Probably because her descendants wouldn’t approve of 6T9.”

  “You don’t seem to approve, either.” As he said the words, he thought he felt a gust of cold air sweep the room.

  Gazing at the holo, Noa sighed, the light of the globe shining in her eyes. “I don’t normally approve of sex ‘bots, or animatronics, no. People become addicted to them, forget that they’re not human, give love and affection to machines that don’t care one way or another, and that are expensive and energy hogs to boot.”

  “6T9 seems to care about Eliza … ” His voice trailed off. He wasn’t sure why he was playing devil’s advocate. And where was the cold air coming from? He looked over his shoulder at an air vent—but it wasn’t on.

  Noa frowned. “It’s his programming to mimic emotions. It’s his programming to care about her feelings and her well being. But it isn’t real … ‘bots don’t care about anything, not really, not their owners or even themselves. He’d wipe his memory and shut himself down if he realized he was endangering her.”

  James thought of contemplat
ing leaving Noa to her fate in the forest. “You make ‘bots sound better than humans.”

  Noa raised her eyes to his. “No, they’re not—they’re just programmed that way. To be afraid, to want to live, to want to avoid pain, and to do the right thing anyway, that is far more than any ‘bot can do or be.”

  James felt as though gravity had lessened and the chill in the room had dissipated.

  Noa looked down. “People who think they love ‘bots … well, real love is compromise and sacrifice and not always easy, but it makes you better because you have to be a better person. And having a person who loves you back … they’re doing more than following a script.” She looked away quickly. His eyes slipped down her body. She wore a pair of light coral silk pajamas. Designed for life near the equator, the top had no sleeves. The color contrasted sharply with her dark skin and it might have looked enticing on the Noa in his memory, but it made the hard angles of her emaciated body stand out even more. She wrapped her arms around herself again. James wanted to put an arm around her, but didn’t.

  Noa sighed, walked over to the couch, and flopped down. “But in Eliza’s case … I don’t know.” Leaning her head against the back of the sofa, she put a hand on her forehead.

  James sat down beside her. Leaning back as she was, he retrieved some data on sex ‘bots from his data archives. In the twenty-first century, there were some people who thought that sex ‘bots would replace fellow humans as the sexual partners of choice. The thinking went that their appearance could be perfect and their personalities could be “perfect” as well. But with nano technology and improvements in surgery, almost anyone with enough money who wanted could have the appearance they desired, at least until they reached an advanced age like Eliza’s, when systems broke down too fast for even technology to keep up. The “perfect” personality varied with the individual, and ‘bots were limited in that regard, as Noa put it, to “scripts.” The end of the human race hadn’t happened with humans becoming so seduced by ‘bots that they forgot to reproduce.