by Phoenix Ward
“I got here as fast as I could,” Tera replied. “What’s going on?”
“We’ve got a group of armed people inside. Maybe an I.I. or two, but we haven’t confirmed anything. At least a dozen humans, though. The terrorists just finished shooting down about twenty-nine people in Murphy Square. Witnesses say they were spouting some sort of scripture or something; we don’t have an exact quote.”
Tera’s interest was piqued.
“Religious terrorists?” Tera said. “Don’t hear a lot about them.”
“Well, this looks like a new religion,” Abenayo continued. “According to people who saw the shooting, the things they were shouting were anti-human in nature. Pro-I.I.”
“Pro-I.I.?” Tera echoed. “In Slumside?”
“I know,” Abenayo replied. “That’s why we needed the backup. We have no idea what we’re dealing with here. Christian extremists, Muslim extremists; they’re easier to predict.”
“Has anyone gone in yet?” Tera asked.
“Not yet, rookie,” Abenayo said. “This is one of the most important lessons of the trade: expect anything and prepare accordingly. You loaded?”
Tera checked the ammo readout on her heads-up display. She could fire for a full two minutes straight without running out of 5.56 rounds. She gave her partner a nod.
The two of them went to the front of the church and, with one big heave of their shoulders, threw open the double doors. The sunlight poured into the church’s tiny reception area, glinting off a brass cross behind the front desk. The wallpaper was starting to peel like the paint on the outside and the wood of the walls behind it seemed swollen. It was almost as if someone had dunked the whole building in a pond and forgot to apply some sort of finish first.
Arms pointed forward, the tactical torches on their shoulders detected the change of lighting and activated. Their two circles of illumination danced around the entrance room as they both checked for any hostiles.
The days of the calculated and nerve-wracking raids were over. Once a police officer might fear for his or her life when entering a similar situation, but Tera and Abenayo could approach without worry. They knew that if anything happened to their bodyshells, their consciousnesses would be awoken in new ones somewhere in the basement of their precinct. They wouldn’t feel a thing, and nothing would be lost except for the cost of the robotic body, which the Council took care of. The only ones with anything left to lose were the criminals inside.
Talk about a deterrent.
Tera nodded to Abenayo to indicate that it was clear, and the senior officer moved forward into the main chamber of the church.
The forms within turned toward them as they entered the altar room. Their lights were cast over a mob of humans. They were all dressed in simple garb, even by slum standards. Some almost looked like they were dressed in burlap sacks. Their faces were muddy and smeared.
No one moved to attack.
“Everyone freeze!” Abenayo shouted, waving her gun barrel wrist from person to person. “Anyone moves, I’ll mow you all down, you got it?”
“Don’t worry,” one of the men inside said. “We won’t harm you.”
Abenayo cast her light on his face and he blinked. He was rather young, with shaggy brown hair and a mustache. There was a knife in his hand.
“Oh, I’m not worried, motherfucker,” Abenayo said. “I just don’t want to clean your brains off of the church walls tonight.”
“Abenayo,” Tera said, trying to get her partner’s attention. “Look.”
Her light was pointed in the corner of the altar room, past all the pews and the stage. There, the two police officers saw a large machine, which made a deep hum that seemed to come from within oneself. It almost looked like an old-school cat scan machine, with a bed-like surface going through the hole of a large, upright donut shape. Another human that they hadn’t noticed at first was just standing up from the machine.
“What the hell is going on?” Abenayo asked.
“It’s a neuroscopic recorder,” Tera replied, reciting her education. “An installation machine.”
“What are you fucks doing with that device?” Abenayo asked, her torch shining back at the one who spoke.
“We’re ascending to the next level,” he said. The others around him nodded, their faces uncomfortably calm. It gave Tera the heebie-jeebies.
“Next level of what?” Tera asked.
“Humanity,” the terrorist said. “Rejoice, sisters, for we will be joining your breed soon. Like you, we will be one step closer to God. All that’s left is the Shedding.”
Tera and Abenayo looked at each other. Each gave a look as if to say, “I don’t like where this is going.”
The speaker raised the knife he was holding and looked over at a human woman beside him. Her eyes seemed hopeful and loving, yet there was a sparkle of fear in them. Perhaps uncertainty.
She nodded.
The others in the church followed the first man’s example. They all had different weapons: knives, guns, bricks, broken glass — anything that could kill a person.
Abenayo spun up the barrel on her wrist gun to show them she wasn’t messing around. Tera could see a little horror in her face.
Then, without much warning, the terrorist who had spoken drove the knife into the side of his own neck. Once the blade was in to the handle, he pulled it forward a little to ensure he had severed the jugular.
The others started to follow suit, taking their own lives. Gunshots ran out as their shooters fired into their own skulls. One man took some sort of capsule, which made him start foaming at the mouth instantly.
Before either police officer could do anything, every human in the church was dead. A grotesque pool of blood was starting to form while Tera and Abenayo stood still, stunned.
10
Birthday
Everyone was crammed into the small chamber that served as the challenge’s staging area. It looked like it was constructed for about half the participants that were actually there, but once Taylor, Sharpe, and Ethan shared news of their birthday “celebration”, everyone wanted to join. Kids from all over the simulation of various ages and backgrounds wanted the opportunity to be the one to win all the points. For some of them, especially the younger ones, it could mean the difference between being the C.E.O. of their own robotics corporation and laying out the spreadsheets for that company’s financial department.
Taylor led the brief orientation before the killing got started. She stood before the rest of the room in what space she could be afforded.
“I want to wish you all good luck out there,” she said, a sly smirk seemingly tattooed onto her face. “Whoever wins the game — me — will be awarded the entire pot of points you guys have chipped in. That’s over 230,000 points, folks. We’re talking some real cheddar here.
“There’s only one rule in Last Stand,” she continued. “Last Stand means you never have to say you’re sorry. Other than that, no rules, and no whining about it either. Everyone ready?”
There was a resounding affirmative that rolled around the chamber. The excitement was palpable.
“Here we go!” Taylor yelled, and the last countdown appeared on the wall behind her. It dropped down from ten, and the air vibrated the entire time. Then the chamber and everyone in it faded away.
When everything started to load back around Ethan, he found himself in the middle of a shallow depression, somewhere in a craggy desert. He turned around and found a steep cliff that stretched up a few hundred feet above him. Embedded into the rock face was a concrete bunker-like building. There were square holes where windows would be, were it a house, but no glass. They reminded Ethan of the pillbox bunkers he’d seen in programs about World War II, but much larger.
In the corner of his vision, he could see one of the other fifty kids that he was competing against run away from the cliff and its bunker. It looked like he was headed to a trailer camp, off the side of a road that ran around the cliff. The running figure reminded Ethan
that he was on a ticking clock; every second he waited was another second someone could use to get deadly weapons or sneak into ambush positions. With that in mind, he burst into action.
No one else seemed to be going into the bunker, which was a relief. However, Ethan didn’t interpret that as an invitation to take his time.
There was nothing in the first segment of the bunker, but he noticed a doorway that lead to another room. He ran through it and found what appeared to be a rifle in the corner. Aside from that and a box of what he guessed was ammo, the room was barren and featureless.
When he approached the weapon, he realized it was an ancient musket rifle, and the box was a bunch of metal marbles and packets of gunpowder. He groaned as he thought of the tactical disadvantage he’d be in. Someone could have an automatic laser rifle or some magical staff that could turn him into dust, and he’d have this antique to defend himself with. It was better than nothing, though — even as a blunt weapon — so he took it into his inventory.
There didn’t seem to be anything else in the bunker, which disappointed Ethan. He was hoping to find some armor or healing items if he had to be stuck with such a sub-par weapon, but there was nothing. He knew he had to move on to the next area if he wanted to stand a chance against the others.
As he turned to leave the bunker, he heard footsteps. Someone else was rushing into the bunker, clearly hoping for decent loot themselves.
The other guy appeared in the entrance, a crossbow cradled in his arms. The intruder’s expression turned to surprise as he tried to get his crossbow aimed and ready. It was clear to Ethan that the stranger didn’t expect anyone inside the building. He used the moment to pull his musket up and fire. A ball of lead ripped from the end of his archaic firearm and right into the stranger’s gut. As it hit his target and the wind was knocked out of his lungs, the other player vanished and a wooden crate with all his items fell to the ground where his body was just a moment prior.
Ethan’s heart was racing. The gun and the bullet and the crossbow were all fake, but the adrenaline was real. He needed a moment to steady his nerves as he shuffled through the eliminated kid’s gear.
He swapped the musket out for the crossbow, shuddering at the thought of reloading the colonial weapon. There was also a magical amulet item that he took. Looking at the item description, he learned that it could help him find nearby tracks and help him figure out which participant they belonged to.
Gotcha, Taylor, Ethan thought. He could catch the birthday girl by surprise and take her right out of the match. Then it would be an easier win for him.
He left the junk items behind, including the rest of his musket pellets and gun powder plugs. Without delay, he abandoned the bunker and started to run with the cliff on his left.
The rock formation led into a sort of canyon that ran between it and another cliff face, where a number of alpine trees grew. The trunks were too close together for Ethan to see past the canyon.
He whipped out the magical amulet and tried to activate it. Nothing happened. For a second he thought it was broken, but he realized it was probably just because there were no tracks to pick up on. He felt a little more comfortable, so he made his way into the forested canyon.
The distant ring of gunfire met his ears. It sounded like someone had found a machine gun and was unloading the entire clip at another unfortunate player. There was some return fire and several explosions. He recognized the whistle of rockets being fired and realized the other combatant must have found a missile launcher.
I’d love to see that fight, he thought. But I hope I don’t run into either of those guys. At least, not until I have a rocket launcher of my own.
He was only a hundred feet into the canyon or so when the amulet started to vibrate. He pulled it out and a few footprints started to appear on the trail before him. They glowed with an otherworldly orange light that almost seemed to drift upwards like smoke. They were easy to make out, even through all the roots and brush.
It looked like someone had slid down the far cliff wall and into the valley, then fled down the way he was already headed. Activating the amulet, he could see a small descriptor appear next to the tracks:
TAYLOR, it read. 2 MINUTES 43 SECONDS AGO.
Ethan grinned. I’m on her trail, he thought. And she wasn’t here too long ago.
He kept the amulet level with his heart as he followed the orange footsteps. He could see the occasional orange handprint on the tree trunks where Taylor had regained her balance, or perhaps pushed off to give her a little more speed.
Keeping a steady pace, he made sure his crossbow was loaded. It looked like it even had fire bolts, which would ignite whoever he shot into a ball of flames. That would be useful whenever he encountered Taylor. She was a skilled fighter, as he’d seen in a number of simulated melees with her. He knew he had his work cut out for him. Any advantage he could get was welcomed.
It felt like he had been following the winding path of Taylor’s tracks for hours, going between trees and even around parts of the cliff wall. He found a couple of spent rounds on the forest floor. It looked like Taylor had some kind of powerful handgun and used it on some other unlucky participant. As he took a few steps away, he found the death box to confirm it.
I’m right on your trail, Taylor, Ethan thought. Better look out.
He heard a twig snap from behind him, to his left. His heart leapt as he turned toward the source of the sound. Instinctively, he propped the crossbow up against his shoulder.
His eyes shot wide when he saw the red hair and thick glasses. It was Gauge, the strange man who had told him that the real world was a lie. Ethan didn’t lower his crossbow.
“Ethan,” the man greeted him.
“What are you doing here?” Ethan asked. “What do you want from me?”
He cast a couple glances around the area to make sure Taylor didn’t get the jump on him, now that he was distracted.
“I have to show you something,” Gauge said. His tone was hurried like last time. Ethan couldn’t help but wonder how he had gone undetected by the system for so long if he wasn’t supposed to be there.
“Why?”
“Because I need you to believe me,” the redhead replied.
He put his hand in his coat pocket, and Ethan raised the crossbow a bit higher as a warning. Gauge raised the other hand and moved slower to show that he wasn’t going for a weapon. He retrieved a small rectangle from his jacket. It looked like an old fashioned smartphone — at least a hundred years old.
“Watch this,” Gauge instructed. Then he tapped the front of the rectangle and it came to life. An image appeared on screen, showing a couple of surgeons standing around a feminine form on an operating table.
There was the sound of drilling, and Ethan could see the surgical tools they were working with. Upon closer inspection, he also noticed that the surgeons didn’t seem to be human. They were machines made to resemble people.
Robots, Ethan found himself thinking.
As a couple of the automaton surgeons shuffled out of the way, Ethan could see the patient better. She was young, no more than twenty years old. Her hair was completely shaved off and she was asleep. The terrible buzzing continued, and Ethan noticed a bit of blood on the side of her scalp.
“Who is that?” Ethan said. He felt like he knew her.
“That’s Nadia,” Gauge replied. “Your friend who graduated about six months ago. This is her in the real world.”
“What are they doing to her?” the teenager asked.
“They’re lobotomizing her,” Gauge answered. “They’re destroying her brain.”
Ethan’s face fell. He shook his head as if to say, “No, that can’t be right.” The words never came, though. He looked back down at the screen and saw what they were doing to her.
Gauge turned the screen back to himself, then swiped at it a little with his thumb.
“You also need to see this,” he said, turning the device back so Ethan could view it.
&
nbsp; There was a young man, probably still a teenager, suspended in a clear coffin of jelly-like material. Over a dozen wires connected the boy to the container from various parts of his body. Ethan could see similar tanks on either side of the young man.
“I don’t understand,” Ethan said.
“That’s you, Ethan,” Gauge explained. “That’s the real you. And they’re going to destroy your brain next.”
11
Orders
The sergeant seemed like a stressed-out guy, even for an officer of the law. His bodyshell was a bit larger than both of the women in his office, particularly in the middle. He was designed to look more like a bodybuilder than a cop.
“A neuroscopic recorder?” he asked for clarification. “What for?”
“Best we can understand, they were trying to install themselves,” Abenayo answered. “Everything we were able to find out indicates that it was a central motive for this group.”
“To install themselves?” the sergeant asked. “But why?”
“We’re still doing our best to understand it, but from the information we’ve gathered, they are a religious cult that idolizes installed intelligences,” Abenayo explained. “Our best guess is they believed installing themselves would bring them closer to God.”
“So they killed themselves?” the sergeant asked.
“That’s right.”
“And you,” the sergeant started, addressing Tera. “Did you notice anything else about the cult?”
Tera had been immersed in her thoughts while the other two talked. She couldn’t help but picture the church over and over again. She could see the man with the knife in his neck, staring at her with joyous eyes. It was like something out of a nightmare, and it wouldn’t stop haunting her.
She looked up when she realized they were staring at her.
