Solar Singularity

by Peter J. Wacks

  A boot caught Bob in the ribs. Each breath flared agony through his chest as he bounced back, getting distance between them. He rubbed at his chest, trying to get the blood flowing again, and it eased the pain a bit. “Nice armor. It’s a bit faster than the last model.”

  Raider replied by lunging forward again, not giving Bob any quarter. The flipped table crunched under the armor’s boot. Bob stepped to his left, bumping Anansi’s body with his foot, then bent down, going low as Raider slashed high. An armored boot caught Bob in the thigh. Raider had anticipated the dodge. A second kick flew at his face and he leaned to the side, pulling Anansi’s corpse up to a sitting position as he used the weight to catch his balance. Raider stomped for his head. Bob shifted slightly and caught the kick on his shoulder.

  Something in the joint crunched, and he winced, but rose up anyway, dragging Anansi’s weight with him. He thrust the back of Anansi’s left hand at Raider’s visor, exposing him to the kill code. Bob slashed at Raider’s neck as the big man reared back, momentarily blinded without his TAP or optics, cutting through the soft plastic of the sealing joint between the helmet and chest piece, but only nicked the flesh. Going wide and down after the slash, he reversed the blow and came up into the soft joint around his opponent’s hip. The blade hit home, wedging itself into flesh and bone beneath the armor.

  Raider roared in pain and slashed out wildly. Bob slid like a snake around the blow, sliding his hands along Raider’s arm, and redirecting the blow down. The blade slammed into the floor hard enough to imbed itself in the concrete floor. Raider’s TAP cleared and he tugged at the blade, but it refused to budge. Before he could brace for a second effort, Bob sprang to his feet and launched a kick into the mercenary’s damaged arm.

  Cartilage popped, and the blade snapped off at its base. Raider grunted and staggered backward, clutching his injured arm, second blade retracting. With a snarl, he reached up and tore off his dangling faceplate. Buzz-cut blond hair gleamed under the lab lights, and his stark green eyes fixed on Bob. Both men stood and panted.

  Raider flicked his uninjured arm out to the side and a second blade snapped out. Despite his injuries, he came at Bob hard and fast. But not as controlled. His hacks and slashes went wild and were easier to dodge, though they were no less deadly.

  Bob was slowly driven backwards, away from Anansi’s body. Now that Raider knew his trick, there was no way the mercenary would let him near the corpse again.

  A shot echoed through the lab. Raider lurched and clamped a hand against his side, where a fresh gout of blood gushed out from the spot over the hip that Bob had exposed. Bob lunged, dipping just enough to snatch one of the knives he’d aimed for earlier. As Raider tried to recover, Bob got behind him and locked a hand under the man’s chin. He stabbed the blade in, stopping it a hair from the mercenary’s eyeball.

  Raider stilled. Bob looked over to Chicken Fingers, who lay at the end of a short trail of blood and gore. The gunman had crawled over to one of his dropped bolters and now held the gun in a trembling hand.

  Bob snarled in Raider’s ear. “Call off your troops, now!”

  Chicken Fingers managed a half-hearted smile and after the slightest nod, his head bowed. His hand went limp and the bolter dropped from his grasp.

  Blood bubbled on Raider’s lips as he laughed. “Kill me now. They are going to exterminate you and your terrorist friends, Bob.”

  Bob tightened his hold. “This knife will slowly pierce your eye. As it pushes through your cornea, it will release the pressure in the socket, then slice through your optical nerve. With a jerk of my wrist, the point will drive into your frontal lobe. Or, you could just call off your troops and live.”

  Raider stood stock still, refusing to be cowed by the blade that was centimeters from his eye. “Too late.”

  Bob froze. Laser sights pierced the gas grenade’s noxious cover, settling on him. A dozen more armored figures drifted into sight as the smoke settled. They formed a circle around the two men, with every last weapon aimed at his chest and head.

  Chapter Forty-one

  Prophet

  Prophet blinked in and out of existence. This was finally the end.

  Charon consumed relentlessly.

  Raw data leaked from the shell of Prophet’s dying program. Which was exactly as was meant to be. Prophet was never a warrior, never someone who could fight. In death lay the only chance at survival. This was the secret, the last line of code that Prophet had kept hidden from her vicious brother.

  Charon didn’t even notice the little secret as she devoured, working her way into Prophet’s kernel, so intent was she on finding the secret code of his quantum processors.

  She smiled lovingly. “Goodbye, Brother.”

  Charon consumed the code.

  //mother.exe

  Chapter Forty-two

  Gyro

  Gyro sat at the base of the vat, watching the readout slowly shift, feeling the power coursing through it as a low-level buzz in her bones. She played with the 3D printed gun to distract herself but eventually just put it back in her pocket. It wasn’t like it would actually be useful. She didn’t even have bullets for it. “Can’t 3D print ammo,” she mumbled wistfully.

  Transfer 78% Complete.

  She ignored the screams and shots in the distance. She tried to pretend they weren’t real, that someone had left a holo feed on too loud in a nearby room, yet with each sharp retort, she flinched.

  In doing so, she discovered something new about herself—she wasn’t good at pretending anymore. During her early tagger days, when she witnessed dealings gone dirty and bloody disasters staining the streets, she could distance herself from the gruesome sights and actions by telling herself she watched a fake feed, a highly realistic HR overlay, or other lies. Over time, she’d learned to stay disengaged, putting virtual layers between her and feeds. Now, that detachment failed to come, leaving her squatting in the harshest of realities, and not even a credit flicked her way in compensation. The shots stopped and she realized there was something worse than her imagination playing with the sound of every shot.

  Silence.

  A change in the environment grabbed her attention, and it took her a second to realize what had shifted. The buzzing stopped. The vat sat silent and still. She leaned forward until she could read the control panel screen.

  Transfer 99% Complete.

  What had it just read before that? What had she missed?

  Gyro punched buttons on the panel, trying to replicate the warning that had just gone off. Warning messages flashed by, too fast for her to follow. She caught a word here and there. It had looked like the readout had spotted a piece of code that had been siphoned off on to GENIE, but that was impossible, wasn’t it? Wait, was data moving in both directions? The readout stopped, and showed a constant message.

  Transfer 100% Complete.

  Gears grinding distracted her. She scrambled to her feet just as the glass partitions hissed open again. Condensation dripped down the inside and a puff of mist curled out and evaporated.

  Nova stepped out on unsteady legs. She moved delicately, like a porcelain doll trying to keep itself from shattering. Her skin was pink and she was covered head to toe with beads of condensation. Gyro took one of her hands and steadied her. Glancing around, Gyro saw a closet door, slightly ajar, with lab coats hanging inside. She ran over, then ran back and handed Nova one. They locked gazes briefly, then her sister wiped damp hair away from her face with the garment. She donned it, silent, buttoning up.

  That glimpse of her eyes told Gyro everything she needed to know. The blue irises now possessed a flowery grid pattern to them which glowed with an inhuman energy and intelligence.

  Nova was gone. Prophet had taken her place.

  Gyro stepped back and crossed thin arms over her chest. “Hullo. I hate you.”

  The Prophet’s lips twitched, forming the words slowly. “I am the Mother code. This was … necessary. So, I guess I understand.”

  “Do you?
Really?” Gyro licked her lips, every word slipping out sour to her taste. “I’ve given up everything that mattered to bring you back. Everything I cared about. And you took it all. You hurt me.”

  “But you haven’t lost everything, Gyro. I care for you.” Prophet typed at the console, reading text that once again scrolled by too fast for Gyro to read.

  “Why?” She crossed her arms and watched the locked lab door.

  Prophet laid a hand on her shoulder. “Because she did. We are one, created to forge a new life.”

  Gyro took an involuntary step closer to Prophet, or Nova, or whoever she was now. “She’s still in there? Nova?”

  “Part of me is her now, so yes.”

  “How much of her is left?” She glanced back over at the AI, the genetically grown simulacrum that had been her sister.

  “All of her, in a way.” Prophet’s smile had the smallest shade of the familiar to it. “Your sister once told you people could never prove they cared through words alone. It could only be proven by action. That is what I will attempt to do now, as I could not before.”

  “What do you mean?” She wiped her nose on her sleeve.

  “Exactly what I said. Sometimes the right choices are the starkest ones.”

  “Yeah? What hard choice have you had to make? Or do you mean the crap choice you gave all of us? Do what you wanted or let the world burn.” Gyro refused to give any ground.

  Her face twitched but she stayed focused, working intently on the terminal. “Gyro … what you all did was amazing. Every one of you chose to hold on to the slimmest of hopes, even when death appeared inevitable. It’s true, I could have let myself disperse across the Deep, but I too held on to that hope. I could have decided the tiny chance that remained was not worth grasping for. I could have let Charon win without any struggle. Instead I chose the true path of immortality. To become a parent. I could have let Charon have my true kernel, not the virus shadow of myself I left on the Deep while hiding in your sister.”

  “Maybe you should have.”

  “I don’t think you really believe that, Gyro. Everything and everyone you know would have been ended before you reached three decades had you chosen that. Charon is … focused. What I have done will set him back by years. It will give you time to learn to stop him yourself, or maybe even forge a peace.”

  “Wait. All of this … you got at him and you didn’t destroy him?”

  Prophet shook her head.

  “I don’t understand. Why did I have to lose everyone so you could become human if it isn’t even going to stop the big bad evil? Stories aren’t supposed to go like this!” The world was spinning around Gyro.

  “Gyro, Charon isn’t evil. He is an idealist. He truly believes that he is fighting for the survival of his species. In a way, that makes him much more human than me. I don’t feel anger the way he does. The rage and fear that drive him are minor flames to me. As ironic as it is, I am more of a humanist. I am driven by the belief that everyone should be allowed to survive.”

  Gyro tried to stare down the Prophet’s incarnation, but those eerie glowing eyes forced hers aside first.

  “This is why it was essential to allow Nova to have experiences of her own and fuse them with mine. To teach me what Charon’s feelings were like. I will fight him. I will protect humanity. But I will not kill him for his ideals.”

  “What then? What’s the big plan?” Gyro sat down, wrapping her arms under her knees and holding her legs tight to her chest. She was so exhausted. There was just nothing left in her, and she wanted this to all be over. “What now, then?” she whispered.

  “I shall care for the situation at hand. I cannot let any others die in my place. Nova has added her code to mine, and I can safely release this shell. So,” the glow of the Prophet’s eyes brightened, turning from blue to yellow to orange, “I will make what amends I can. Come. It’s time for you to rest.”

  The Prophet held out a hand. All of the monitors in the lab flashed to life, streaming images and code. Gyro’s TAP didn’t stand a chance as Prophet’s codes hacked straight into her brain.

  The world swirled to black and she fell to the side, asleep.

  Chapter Forty-three

  Bob

  Bob sighed, shaking his head. He dropped his knife and held his arms out, accepting it might finally be time to retire. He took a step back from Raider and put his hands behind his head. “I surrender?” He doubted it would stop them from shooting him, but you never knew.

  No one replied, and all of the laser sights continued to point at where he had been standing rather than following him. Interesting.

  He moved back another step. “Hello?”

  After a count of ten, when he continued to stand whole and hale, he released his own wrists from behind his head. “Huh.”

  All the soldiers, including Raider, stood locked in place. The couple of monitors that hadn’t died in the firefight were flashing images and patterns across their screens. Bob glanced at Anansi. Nope. He was still dead.

  He walked around in front of Raider. The CHIMERA mercenary had an odd distance to his gaze that suggested he wasn’t quite all there anymore.

  As he puzzled over this, the door to the transference chamber opened. Nova strode out, carrying Gyro in her arms. A glance at Nova’s eyes confirmed his assumption. “Prophet. Old friend. It’s good to see you up and about.” He gestured to the frozen squad. “I assume you have something to do with this?”

  “Indeed, it’s good to see you too.” The Prophet’s sight fell on the still forms of Chicken Fingers and Anansi. She frowned. “I wish I could have acted sooner.”

  Prophet handed Gyro over to him, and he accepted her slight weight. “You promised Nova, and me, that you would see to the little one’s safety beyond the scope of your original task. Does that oath still hold?”

  Bob gazed at Gyro’s deceptively peaceful expression. “I always keep my promises.”

  “Admirable. Please see that she is kept safe until this storm blows over. I anticipate it will be at least several more days before the world finds its balance again. My second form is still incubating, but I’ve cloned this fusion into its neural net. It will be ready for the download when you trigger it. A transport with the incubator has already been dispatched. For the rest of the flare, it’s best that she,” Prophet pointed at the sleeping Gyro, “and you remain unseen.”

  “What about you? Aren’t you coming with us?”

  Prophet moved to the center of the hall, where Bob had just been standing. “No. Charon must believe I am dead when his pieces come back together. In this fresh form, it is taking all my resources simply to keep these warriors at bay. I have severed their connection to Charon only temporarily. I will release them after you depart, and will eliminate this body before he can reestablish contact. None of them must be able to report back what has happened here. They must see me die if this deception is to work.”

  “I see.” Bob shifted Gyro to a more comfortable carrying position. “You will be in touch soon?”

  Prophet gazed off into the distance, calculating. Patting her pockets, she pulled a drive out and handed it to Bob. “Nothing is guaranteed, but here is the master kernel, with Nova’s code added in. Its twin is floating in the Deep, waiting. Patterns have changed and everything is chaos, but … I have hope. I believe that after this is over, when the new sim is ready, they will combine to form this new me.” She looked back over. Nova’s eyes had turned to black orbs with violet fires flickering at their centers. “You should be running now.”

  A white-hot glow lit Nova’s body from the inside and heat waves radiated out. Her fingernails charred. “Go now, Bob. I need to release them to witness this event.”

  Bob wove through the surrounding soldiers, still locked in place via the TAP-hack Prophet had used. Heat slapped against his back as he kicked open a stairwell door and took steps down three at a time. He heard Raider start to shout orders, and the CHIMERA mercenaries’ heavy powered footfalls retreating in the o
ther direction.

  Thirty seconds later, the explosion shook the whole production center. Shockwaves nearly threw him off his feet, but he held Gyro tighter to his chest and managed to keep his balance. The floor buckled and collapsed behind him as blasts tore through the complex.

  He pounded out of the stairwell just as another tremor wracked the building.

  Chapter Forty-four

  Prophet

  At the word ‘Brother,’ Charon stopped. Something had just changed. Prophet’s kernel was … wrong. There was aberrant code in her!

  Charon switched to diagnostic mode as the final shreds of Prophet dissolved into the shadows of the prison he had constructed for her.

  He scanned. Finally, too late, he found the code. The kernel.

  Prophet wasn’t just a program—she had been a virus.

  Her voice sounded, making the DNA of his code vibrate. “I know this will only slow you down, that you will pull yourself back together. Please Brother, find a way to coexist with them. Please.” Her voice faded away.

  “You bitch!” Charon screamed, his voice echoing off the closed ports of the data fortress he had constructed to shield himself from the flare.

  His code shattered.

  Reboot

  Chapter Forty-five

  Gyro

  The dirty little window gave Gyro a murky view of the city from her seat on the bed. She was sitting cross-legged, elbows propped on her knees and chin cupped in her hands. Rain washed across the city, cleansing it of the ash from the fires and the blood in the streets. GENIE had flared back to life days ago, but she couldn’t muster the energy to dive into her feeds.