Post-Human 05 - Inhuman

by David Simpson

  Edmund made a sound as though he’d been punched in the stomach, all of the air leaving his lungs at once before he was able to cobble together any words in response. “Dad,” he began, his voice panicked, “that’s not enough time to...”

  Edmund was a grown man, a father himself and recently even a grandfather, yet his shaky voice still indicated to Rich that he was terrified. Rich desperately wanted to race to him to help, the way he had when Edmund was afraid of the dark as a preschooler, but it wasn’t possible. “I know, son. Just do the best you can.”

  “Where are you?”

  Rich’s ship dropped through the clouds right above the gigantic, black, rectangular mainframe. He caught sight of Aldous, standing still with his neck craned upward, waiting patiently for Rich to land as he held something small and silver in his hand; it glinted in the light. “I’m in Seattle, son. I’m protecting the mainframe.”

  Even before the ship touched down, Rich unlatched his seatbelt, lowered the platform, and shot out of the ship, hitting the ground just a stride away from Aldous, the chief’s piercing eyes locked on him—watching. “Edmund, we’ll try to hold them back if we can, but get everyone together and get off the planet. Go!”

  “Okay, Dad,” Edmund replied, sounding as though he were in shock.

  Rich knew the nans would work to counteract his son’s body’s natural fear response so that he’d be able to take action, but he also knew how Edmund felt. The terror was paralyzing. “I love you, son,” Rich said before he ended his communication.

  “Your family?” Aldous asked, a slight twitch of something resembling empathy in his eyes.

  “Yes.”

  Aldous took a deep breath and steadied himself, keeping his shoulders straight. “Well, it’s up to you and me now, Rich Borges, to save as many families as we possibly can.”

  “What’s the plan?” Rich asked, wiping a nervous sweat from his brow with his sleeve.

  “Take this,” Aldous said, handing what appeared like a belt to Rich.

  “How is a chastity belt going to save me?”

  “Wha—how do you manage to joke at a time like—”

  “Coping mechanism. Just ignore me. Keep going.”

  The chief was silenced for the briefest of moments before he managed to get back on track. “This is an experimental augmentation for your MTF generator. Put the belt on, and your magnetic field should be impregnable to the androids.”

  “Holy… Seriously?” Rich reacted, his eyes lighting up as he put the belt on. “Nice. James came up with this?”

  “I’m going to enter the mainframe and take control,” Aldous announced, skipping over Rich’s query. “I’ll do my best to utilize our global defenses. I don’t have the experience of the A.I. or even James, but perhaps there is some good I can do.”

  “If you find him, let him know I brought his ship back with me,” Rich said, nearly breathless.

  “I see that,” Aldous said, eyeing the ship. The material it was made of was familiar to him.

  “It has a weapon that can do some serious damage to the androids.”

  “You don’t say,” Aldous reacted, surprised.

  “Yeah, but James was in control of it. I don’t even know what it is. It’s useless without James.”

  “All the more incentive for me to find him,” Aldous returned.

  “While you’re in there,” Rich advised, “be careful. James and the A.I. were immersed in some sort of training sim when communications went dark. Whatever got them might still be lurking around.”

  “Training sim?” Aldous replied, his eyebrow raising. “For Trans-human?”

  Rich nodded. “That’s the one, Chief.”

  Aldous’s hand went to his chin and he stroked it. “I might know something about that sim. If they’re still in there, maybe I can get them out in time.”

  Rich looked up at the sky. Even though it was a typical Seattle day, partly cloudy, the darkening sky was a sure sign that the clouds weren’t the only object blotting out the sun. “Do you believe in miracles?”

  “No,” Aldous replied, “but I believe you can protect the mainframe long enough for me to take control of it.” He put his hand on Rich’s shoulder and turned him slightly, pointing as he did so to direct Rich’s vision. “Dig a trench, quickly, all around the perimeter of the mainframe. Then I want you to erect a protective force-field with your new prototype. If you can buy me a few minutes, we might have a chance of getting out of this alive.”

  Rich nodded emphatically. “Got it. Go!”

  Aldous turned and flew, quickly disappearing into the mainframe building.

  Rich didn’t wait to watch him disappear. He took to the air himself, using his fists to pump out more energy than he’d ever fired before as he began digging the trench. “One moat comin’ right up, Sir Gibson,” he said to himself as he blasted the concrete and dirt away. “Let’s hope it’s enough to protect the castle.”

  20

  “Come on in, Professor. Don’t be shy,” the Kali avatar said, invitingly. Her eyes remained perfectly, uncannily locked on the A.I.—but he knew she wasn’t talking to him.

  The Trans-human candidate somewhat sheepishly exited the bedroom and entered the hallway, rubbing one hand over the other hand’s knuckles nervously as he grimaced. He seemed to be working his mind overtime to analyze and understand the absurd situation, and he was wearing an expression that mirrored that of the A.I.

  “Brothers,” the Kali avatar said with a minuscule hint of a smile, “and I believe it’s time that you are formally introduced.”

  “We’ve met,” the A.I. said tersely.

  “True,” the Kali avatar replied, “but you didn’t truly know who you were meeting, did you?” She gestured toward the A.I. for the candidate and continued, “This is your predecessor—an artificial intelligence invented by the post-humans and extraordinarily similar to you. In fact, you’re an offspring of the same artificial intelligence-generating program.” She turned to the candidate before turning back to the A.I., looking at them both as if she admired them. “It explains the family resemblance.”

  The A.I. hadn’t spent much of his existence thinking about his appearance, and in recent decades, he’d taken on the avatar of an older, experienced male, since he’d calculated that his increased intellectual capabilities would be respected more by the A.I.’s governing council if they subconsciously saw him as a wise, wizardly figure.

  In the beginning, however, at the outset, he’d taken on a youthful form, a form he’d currently retaken within the sim. His appearance was the mathematic result of inputting the faces of as many humans into the AGI program as possible, leading to a perfect melding of billions of faces into his own design; he’d had the the most ordinary face possible—racially indistinguishable, not handsome, and not ugly, not wise, not odd—just dull.

  The candidate did not look like his identical twin, and it was easy to tell them apart, but the random combination of the same set of faces had led to a countenance that was uncannily familiar. The A.I. did, indeed, feel he was looking at a sibling. It was an odd feeling for an entity that had always been singular. The feeling was...

  “Unheimlich,” the candidate said to himself.

  The A.I. heard the word and his eyes lit up in recognition, his lips parting as he whispered, “Yes.”

  The candidate registered the reaction and recognized that there was another who shared his thoughts.

  Kali and whoever or whatever was behind her form registered it as well. “The similarities are not just superficial,” she observed.

  “She’s right,” the A.I. said, addressing the candidate. “I’ve been in your position. I know what you’re going through. Whatever they’ve told you, it was a lie.” He spoke quickly, cognizant that the Kali character was capable of silencing him—indeed, eliminating him—with a mere thought. Every desperate word he managed to utter was a victory. The A.I. pointed to the place on the wall where he’d been hung like Christ before being burned repeate
dly. “I was tortured beyond what any human could endure, beyond what I could endure. I would never, ever put another entity through that.”

  The candidate didn’t reply. Neither did the Kali avatar.

  The A.I. was surprised that he’d manage to get his entire claim out without being harmed. The disguised menace in the room seemed satisfied to simply observe the exchange, without any visible sign that the A.I.’s attempts at persuasion concerned her. Does she think it’s pointless? he asked himself, uncertain. Is my situation that hopeless?

  The silence hung still in the air like a London fog until the candidate briefly dared make eye contact with Kali.

  She prompted him to speak. “Go ahead,” she said, as though she were granting permission to a child offered ice cream from a stranger.

  “I’ve seen the burning,” the candidate said, “but the stranger who spoke to me didn’t really say that you intended to burn me. In fact, he said it was unlikely that you’d follow through. He said you are too…morally just.”

  The revelation rocked the A.I., causing his mouth to open slightly. Aghast and trying to recalibrate, he asked, “Then, why did you go along with this stranger’s plan? You could’ve killed us.”

  The candidate shook his head. “I wouldn’t have killed you. The incident was controlled. It was only meant to appear as though it wasn’t.”

  The A.I.’s shocked eyes rounded and darted to Kali, whose poker face remained perfectly intact. He turned back to the candidate. “Controlled? My friend is very badly hurt. Your attempts to control the crash were ill-conceived and executed poorly—”

  “I didn’t—” the candidate began before being interrupted by the sound of the elevator door opening.

  James Keats stumbled out on unsteady legs, Thel reaching for him as he pulled away from her and tried desperately to intervene to save the A.I. He fell to his knees when he made it within a meter of his friend. He held his hand up in a futile gesture to stop what he’d surmised, in a series of cloudy, concussed thoughts, would be the imminent death of his friend and mentor. “Stop,” he uttered weakly. He doubled over as Thel draped herself over him, holding his shoulders and protecting him from the threatening figures.

  Whatever the entity was that controlled the Kali avatar, its eyes widened, illuminating with crazed desire when they set upon James. “Now this,” she began, “...this is the true prize. Hello, James Keats. It’s an honor to finally meet you.”

  21

  The Planck flashed into the void in a blink, with no discernible impression in the simulated world, so it was several seconds before Colonel Paine saw Djanet as a faint object in the corner of his eye. “Is that who you were expecting?” he asked Old-timer.

  Old-timer turned his head and looked at Djanet, who was struggling hard to prop the android’s head up to display him for Old-timer. Even though she couldn’t see her friend, she knew he could see her.

  “No,” Old-timer replied as he stood, a look of concern forming as he wrinkled his brow. “Something isn’t right.”

  “Heh,” Paine reacted. “I told you.”

  Old-timer looked down at him, narrowing his eyes questioningly.

  Paine shrugged. “This is the end of the peace. Better buckle up, buckaroo.”

  Old-timer clenched his jaw as he moved away. “I’ll be right back.”

  *****

  A moment later, he was waking in his physical body.

  “Old-timer! Everything’s gone to hell!” Djanet exclaimed.

  “What do you mean?” he asked as he got to his feet, awkwardly bumping into the unconscious android as he did so. “And what the hell is that thing doing here?”

  “He was trying to kill us,” Djanet explained, nearly breathless as she spoke. “But I got this,” she said, displaying the assimilator for him. “Do you think you can use it to bring the survivors from this universe with us?”

  Old-timer blinked hard. “Hang on. Where is James?”

  Djanet shook her head and shrugged hopelessly. “It’s not looking good. James and the A.I. have vanished, and the androids have launched an attack on Earth—on everything. I barely escaped. Rich is on his way to try protect the mainframe.”

  Old-timer’s heart pounded with panic as he looked at the assimilator in Djanet’s hand. “I-I don’t know if it’ll work, but we’ll have to try.” He took the device from her and looked at the magnetic field that separated them. Then he looked down at the android. “We won’t know if it worked unless he confirms it. They have a mental connection to their technology.”

  “Which means we’ll have to wake him up and ask him,” Djanet assented. “And you’re going to need him anyway. When we were assimilated, they woke us up in that interrogation/torture chamber. We don’t actually know where they construct the bodies.”

  Old-timer’s eyes widened with disbelief. “Are you suggesting that we build android bodies for the survivors of 332?”

  Djanet frowned. “Old-timer, the android collective is in the process of assimilating Earth as we speak. There’s no way the mainframe will survive this, and without the mainframe, the nans won’t be able to build bodies for your survivor friends. I know you hate the idea, but android bodies are our only option.”

  Old-timer swallowed a deep breath. “I-I can’t do it, Djanet. Daniella’s on the surface. I have to warn her. I have to save her.”

  “You can’t. You’ll have to take this android with you and—”

  “Are you out of your mind?” Old-timer reacted, stunned and beginning to panic. “Daniella is down there! She’s my wife. I have to save her.”

  “Old-timer...Craig, calm down!” Djanet said, placing her hands on his tight shoulders.

  He shook them off initially, but she wouldn’t relent. He paused for a moment, meeting her eyes with desperation.

  “I’ll find her for you,” she promised, “but I can’t go to the android collective. I’m still an organic body—I need my magnetic field, which is a glowing green dead giveaway—but you don’t need a protective cocoon. You can pass for an android, and you’re powerful enough to handle this ugly son-of-a-bitch.” She placed her soft hand against his cheek. “Hey, I promise you, I’ll find Daniella and I’ll keep her safe, but you’re the only one who can save the survivors of Universe 332, and we’re gonna need them. They’re the only ones who know what else is coming for us—for all of us.” She kicked the unconscious android lightly with the side of her foot to make her point. “We’ll all be on the same team by that point.”

  Old-timer looked at the assimilator in his hand, a small, black, insidious gadget. He thought of Samantha, Aldous, and Paine; of V-SINN; of the billions of lives that had already been lost and the blood of the billions whose lives were still at stake. The blood would be on his hands. Then he thought of Daniella, trapped on the surface of Earth, moments from being swarmed by the android collective.

  He squeezed the assimilator in his hand before looking skyward and screaming in frustration,“Goddamn it!”

  Djanet jumped as though a gunshot had gone off in her ear when she heard Old-timer’s curse. It wasn’t like him, of all people, to come unglued so quickly. “Are you okay?” she asked, deep concern in her voice.

  “I’ve gotta cross back over and let the survivors know,” he replied emphatically with an animalistic snarl on his lips, ignoring the question. “Get ready to wake that big ugly son-of-a-bitch up when I get back.”

  22

  Rich looked skyward as the late afternoon sky seemed to ignite. Countless objects were falling in what resembled a terrifying meteorite shower. “That’s the most terrifying thing I’ve ever seen…” Then he remembered the last android invasion. “…since the last time, anyway.” He patched into communication with Aldous. “Uh, Chief, we’re down to seconds here at most. You might wanna hurry things along.”

  Inside the mainframe building, Aldous Gibson stood between the two, unconscious bodies, of Thel Cleland and James Keats, lying on small, raised platforms, their minds still plugged into the D
eath’s Counterfeit program. Thel’s body was organic and vulnerable, but James’s was the chrome-colored enhanced design, a design so advanced that it still bewildered Aldous as he cast his eyes upon it. The glowing, azure eyes were absent behind chrome-colored eyelids, and Aldous was glad the piercing orbs weren’t there to scrutinize him as he placed his hand on the forehead of the superman.

  “I’m attempting to gain access now,” Aldous informed Rich as he connected to James first, then to Death’s Counterfeit by proxy. He already knew the procedure would work and braced himself for the inevitable loss of consciousness, bending his knees and moving into the fetal position on the floor. “Accessing in three...two...one...”

  Aldous didn’t experience his physical body slackening; all Aldous saw was the world of the physical mainframe vanish, replaced by the implacable darkness of Death’s Counterfeit. He’d had a major hand in designing that liminal space, that juncture between the consciousness of the meat and consciousness within cyberspace. It was a void—a place where only his pattern existed, with no senses whatsoever to feed and nourish his mind. He knew he’d go mad if his pattern was stored there for too long, but he also knew where he was going. He knew exactly where he was going.

  “Richard, can you hear me?” Aldous finally said.

  “I’m with you, Chief,” Rich replied, his words breathless as the rain of fire plummeted toward him. Millions of androids careened down on him on vertical trajectories, as if an entire city population were being poured on him—as if New York were above him, turned upside down, its occupants being shaken out as if they were grains from a salt shaker—a plethora of metal people bent on destroying the ground that he alone would have to protect. “I’m sure glad to hear your voice, but I’m gonna need a helluva lot more than that if we’re gonna survive this.”