by Chris Ramos
The Father walked towards the wall to escape, ready to join Cole. However, before he reached the exit, incredibly strong hands grabbed his jacket and wrapped around his neck. The Father clawed at the forearm and twisted his head for air, to no avail.
“Theta . . . Theta Twenty-One, and you are not my Father,” was whispered in his ear.
Cole and his group walked in silence for almost two hours before the exit was in view. They gathered together and looked out at an open field. It was nighttime. The city was on the horizon, with only a faint hovercopter hum in the distance.
“You saved us.” A child was pulling on Cole’s pants.
“You saved yourself. I was just there to push you through the exit.” Cole dodged the praise. These people need to go. There is nothing I can do for them now.
“Alright. Everyone. It’s time to go now. I’m sorry this unraveled like it did, but at least you can be happy to live your life out as it was intended. I suppose we will be dying of old age. Free of expirations.”
“What about the Movement?” a voice called from the back.
Cole couldn’t believe they were still interested in resisting.
“It’s done. That’s all we had. I will still fight on, I don’t know how, but I will find a way. The Movement has died, but LifeSpan lives. I cannot have that.” Cole looked around at the thirty or so refugees standing before him. He never was good at speeches. “If you want to stay with me, I can’t stop you. I should probably mention, everyone that has ever stood with me has died.”
Yes, terrible at speeches.
“Cole, you need to believe in yourself before others will believe in you.” The statement rang through the tunnel from a newcomer, walking towards the group.
Cole couldn’t see his face, but he recognized the silhouette.
“Tym! You are alive!” Cole rushed over to his old friend. He noticed he was alone. “How did you get here?”
“I took the far east exit,” Tym replied, and instantly followed up with, “The Father was not there. Plenty of dead Collectors, but he was missing.”
“We will find him, Tym. We will not stop until we do,” Cole stated.
“Yes. The Movement continues?” Tym was hopeful.
Cole turned to his group one last time.
“This is no Movement. This is a Revolution!” Cole threw his fist in the air. “The offer still stands. You can leave now, and live your life out as you want. You can find a spot in the world and hide. If you are lucky, no harm will come to you. If any of you would like to take that path, the exit is there. Anyone who will stay and fight, the choice is before you.”
The revolutionaries all stood their ground.
“Excellent,” Cole said. “Tym, tell me you have a plan.”
“Why, yes, I definitely have a plan.” Tym was tugging at his pants to keep them from sliding down.
Where was his belt? Cole wondered.
DUO SCI
Cole jumped awake when the window opened, the cold breeze blowing across the room. He reached behind his back for the plasteel blade strapped at his waist, ready to throw. However, standing before him was Sci Tym.
Within the last few months, Cole had not slept in the same safe house longer than two continuous nights. Their plight against LifeSpan was in full swing, with pockets of resistance swelling throughout the world. Cole was their reluctant leader. With Tym at his side, they were the driving force behind the rebellious mindset.
Now it was time to set in motion their most daring plan and, hopefully, put an end to this part of his life. There really was no turning back now. Maybe there never was. Nimbus had been aboard his airship consistently for almost eighteen months now. Cole knew from reliable intelligence that the cloud city had to come down to the surface and reload. There simply was not enough power to keep the massive headquarters afloat, so they were told.
Here they were, after their escape from the Movement’s headquarters, watching and waiting for this cloud to touchdown. They needed to get to him, to stop Nimbus and relinquish his control of the globe. Cole needed it done now.
Oh, sure, that’s easy. Just kindly ask Nimbus, controller of all things, “Could you give up now?” Cole thought. There were only two problems with this pathetic plan.
“Tym, I think we have been approaching this all wrong.” Cole jumped out of bed as Tym was setting down breakfast and digging in another random pocket for seasonings.
“I knew you didn’t want the multivita shakes anymore. This should be better for today.” Tym was actually unwrapping individual sweets, pastries and what appeared to finally be some meat. “This should be right today.”
“No, Tym, not the food!” Cole knew it was hard to get Tym focused, but he wasn’t any better for the crew. “I’m talking about our plan. I’m tired of waiting and I’m tired of watching that city float above us, with Nimbus still ruling everything.”
“Well, Nimbus owns the skies, literally. He is the only ship allowed at that altitude. It is his space.” Tym glanced upward, peering through the ceiling, into the clouds themselves. “I actually think the clouds ask him for permission.”
“Alright. I’m past that thinking. He is just a person. We just have to find a way to get to him. If he won’t come down, I’m going up.”
“That’s ridiculous. You can’t just fly up to his floating city, knock on his door and ask him to open up and have a chat with him.” Tym’s voice was rising, and Cole knew where this was heading. “Hello, I’m Cole. The once-favored child of LifeSpan, friends with Sci Tym.” He looked at Cole. “Y’know, he doesn’t like me very much?”
“Yes, I know that Tym.”
“So, personal friendships aside, and past missions aside, and killing all the Collectors and destroying nanos and all. But could you just land this city and go gas yourself?”
“We haven’t tried that yet.” Cole played along.
“Yeah, that’s perfect. Then we can inherit the whole fragging world!” Tym screamed, arms outstretched.
Cole and Tym sat solemnly, staring at each other.
That was problem number two.
What would they do with the world? Why would they want it?
There was a chime at the door.
Cole reached in his pocket and pulled out an imaginary watch, pressed the non-existent button and pretended to read the dials.
“Ah, yes, right on time,” Cole quipped.
Tym laughed at the absurd notion of following a timepiece. Cole was enjoying the freedom since his death.
The door chimed again.
“Open for guest,” Tym announced.
The door swished. A short, unassuming Sci walked into the room, looked around immediately, following corners, memorizing the room, seeing patterns and recording anomalies.
There’s only one thing Cole hated more than working with one Sci, and that’s being in a room with two Scis. He looked over at Tym, who watched the newcomer with an equally intensive evaluation. Their eyes met.
“Hello, Sci Tym,” the newcomer greeted.
“Hello, Walter Nigel. How’s the Doctor blending Sci business coming along?” Tym always picked on him for being cross professions.
“It helps me get into the Control Room.”
He immediately had the attention of them both. Finally, time to infiltrate. Cole leaped across the room and grabbed a seat, pulling close to listen.
As Sci Nigel laid out the logistics of breaking through the safety mechanisms, Sci Tym was taking all the credit for such an adventurous approach.
“I can be very convincing, y’know,” Tym said, looking at Nigel.
“I would have said no to you. Generally, I don’t want to get involved with these things. But there is one person I cannot say no to.”
There was another chime at the door.
“I knew it! You turned us in! LifeSpan is here!” Cole jumped into a defensive pose.
The figure walked in.
“You are half right,” Trina said. “But I hear there is a resista
nce, and it’s gaining momentum.”
Trina always arrived at the right time.
SHUTDOWN
Dr. Nigel led the charge himself, ducking around corners and using his security codes to pass through the laboratory with ease. He knew his orders, and Trina was close by. They could not fail. Cole needed him. The world as they knew it needed him. This was his time.
“Control Room secured.” Nigel was surrounded by screens. They projected on the walls, were built into the consoles, and grew from every available surface. Plasteel panels lowered from the ceiling grid, also filling with maps, flow charts and percentage readouts.
Trina secured the door and joined Nigel, ducking around the information screens. She knew he was opening too much information. He was a talented Sci, but this was outside of his experience.
“What we need to access is every sector for LifeSpan, and therefore, the world,” Nigel explained. “According to Sci Tym, we need them all open to begin the shutdown of each sector.”
“You make it sound so easy, but I’m telling you, it’s not,” Trina interjected. “There are safeguards in place, with processing times, and I know LifeSpan doesn’t have an auto reset—”
“Ah, Trina, you speak the truth.” Nigel dropped his pack off his shoulder, reached in, and pulled out a tangled mess of wires and power discs attached to a white gauntlet, each fingertip covered in a series of small white discs.
“Where did you acquire a Master Sci glove? Doctor.” Trina was suddenly suspicious.
“It appears Sci Galen is not around to utilize his glove. Don’t worry. Sci Tym spent some time and updated this one for me.”
“That’s what I’m worried about.”
They looked at each other for a moment, realizing there was no turning back from what they would be starting. Trina nodded, and Nigel returned the silent acceptance. They settled in and began sorting through the screens in front of them. Trina was pulling the regional data, organizing the populations by nanoblocks, age groups and upcoming expirations.
Dr. Nigel began his calculations, digging deep into the mainframe of nano maintenance. He thought back to his early days at LifeSpan, full of wonder, as most new Doctors were before the Receiving, a great cerebral download of collected knowledge.
“Trina,” Dr. Nigel began, “do you remember your first unlock?”
“Yes, of course. It was one of the greatest days of my life. I always knew I wanted to become a scientist. My Receiving was scheduled the same day as my mother’s expiration. She was always so supportive. Her unlock was architecture. She loved buildings, always working on the cityscapes, while I was so interested in the human body. The day I Received and all the knowledge of past Scis was unlocked, I thought my head would explode. My mind was exhausted. I felt . . . powerful. I felt like I was part of something grander than myself, bigger than all of my mother’s buildings.” Trina looked over at Dr. Nigel. “What about you? When did you Receive?”
Dr. Nigel began to reply when his screens let out a beep and doubled in size, completely filling every space around him in holographic displays. Galen’s glove lit up like a beacon, and Dr. Nigel smiled.
“We are in,” he announced.
Trina could see it now: every sector around the globe was sorted into even further providences. She always knew LifeSpan controlled the nanos; she just never really knew the sorting. The entire planet was connected into an assimilated hive, while staying segregated by region. Why the division? Trina wondered.
“Remember what Sci Tym told us. Do nothing else. We are only here to shut down the nanos. This will give him time to reprogram . . .”
Sci Nigel began moving screens with the gloved hand and pulling files with the other. He knew the key was deep in the archives of LifeSpan. With luck, they could find the override and shutdown the system. Almost there. He flung the projected files to Galen’s glove, which he had palm facing up. The digifiles stacked into the glove’s force field. After many moments, Sci Nigel paused.
“This is it: the entirety of the local system. Ready to test the glove’s modifications?”
“Don’t fail us now, Tym. Go,” Trina replied.
He charged up the glove and slowly closed his open hand. Held in the force field, the files crumpled. Dr. Nigel crushed away the system, and when his hand closed, the light faded from the glove. It was done.
Trina watched her screens, as every sector faded. The lights of nano control blinked out, one by one. The nanos of everyone in the world went offline.
We did it, Tym, we did it. Trina breathed a sigh of relief.
THE GARDENS
Nighttime encompassed the exclusive gated community of Northern Orchards. Many of its residents were slumbering peacefully and waiting for what tomorrow would bring. Aside from the outdoor lighting used to boast the exteriors of these well-kept mansions, there were hardly any auto illuminators still active.
This made the fourth house on Cedar Lane more noticeable, for every light was on. A glance in the window would show only two residents, older in their years, sitting in the main study while a slow-burning artificial log blazed in the fireplace.
“Honey, the time is almost here.” A sweetly melodic voice floated in the air. “11:11pm. What a perfectly appropriate number for a mathematician, don’t you think?”
Henry smiled at his wife. She had spent a lifetime in vocal studies and instruction, which kept her voice sounding as sweet as the voice of a woman half her age. Her statement rang true as he glanced once again to the front door. Two minutes, fifteen seconds remained.
When he was a young boy, going on eight years old, he had figured his expiration time based on his remaining LifeSpan pocket watch countdown. Many in the world population never sat down and figured the exact expiration time until it was closer, like, say, within ten years or so. Henry figured his expiration to the minute, over eighty-four years in advance. He saw it as an engaging mathematical challenge. Oh, how he loved mathematics and calculations. They were so perfectly stable.
“You look good today. As handsome as the day I met you. I noticed you left your wedding ring on the table,” Adel replied, removing the blanket draped across her knees and carefully folding it over the arm of her chair.
“I wanted you to keep it. I don’t know why, I just figured there should be something here to remember me, remember our marriage,” Henry admitted.
“I have a whole house full of memories, beautiful gardens you planted with fountains and pools, beautiful drawings and paintings of your favorite plants. I see you all around, I feel you in the air. I doubt that will leave this place. It’s permeated into the walls. As far as our marriage, you really did great for the last sixty-two years. Not many are granted a LifeSpan so long together. It’s a shame we were never allowed children.”
“It’s funny how the small things work themselves into something great.” Henry’s worries were put to rest with Adel’s comforting words. “At least you have eight years, three months, two days and three-quarters of an hour left. Not like me. Today I fig—” He glanced at the clock on the far wall and his words froze.
“What’s the matter, Henry? What is it?” Adel asked, rising to her feet so quickly the folded blanket was disturbed and crumpled to the floor.
His mouth was dry. Barely able to breathe, he whispered, “The time. Something’s wrong with the time.”
She turned and looked at the clock. 11:12 pm. One minute past his expiration.
That was impossible.
Henry bolted to his desk, digging furiously for his LifeSpan digiscreen organizer. His wife ran to the dining room table and picked up her LifeSpan pocket watch. It glowed, recognizing her nano signature. She opened it and saw her active dials ticking down, as usual. She picked up her husband’s timepiece, which, of course, did not glow in recognition of her, and returned to the front room, searching for her Henry.
He was crouched on the floor, scrolling through his digiscreen, trying to access the LifeSpan official documents virtual table.
The watch glowed, accepting Henry’s unique nano signature, and the front popped open. Adel could clearly see the dials had all stopped moving.
Expired.
“Henry, the dials . . .” Adel began.
“Have all stopped. I figured as much,” Henry finished for her.
He continued scrolling through, ultimately zooming into a document on his reader. “I’ve found it! The LifeSpan report, dated when I received my expiration and was given to my parents.” He skipped through the document cover, and read aloud:
Henry G. Reingold
Subject #6621-7782-11
Expiration 33582.23.11.0
“Something is wrong. I shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t be—” He nervously looked back and forth, like a caged animal.
“Henry, relax. We just need to contact the LifeSpan offices,” Adel tried to reason.
“No!” Henry cried. “I shouldn’t be here, I . . . I can’t! This has never happened! The world is balanced. LifeSpan is the scale. Nature has a balance, a structure, just like mathematics. What have I done?” His voice was growing shrill as he stood.
“Henry, please. There has to be an explanation! Something is wrong. Let’s work to fix it, like a mathematician . . .” She placed a hand on Henry’s shoulder, only to have it immediately shaken off.
“There is nothing wrong. This is an infallible institution, and there are no mistakes. I should be expired; the Collectors should have come for my body. Where are they?” Henry’s voice grew very quiet. “I can’t live any longer. I shouldn’t shame you that way.”
