"I want you to deactivate me," Ario said.
Mariko's eyes widened. She clutched the wrench on the counter, gripping it with pale hands as if she might need it as a weapon.
"What did he do…?" Mariko whispered, but it was to herself she spoke. "Did… Did Elias do it again? Did he install the Nero Protocol in you?" She tiptoed around the counter to the other side, where Ario stood.
"The Nero Protocol? Elias's program? You know about it?" Ario asked.
"Of course I do. I've been tinkering with synths since I could walk, and hanging out on synth forums since the first time I accessed a computer. I only had to meet Brynn to know he was off-standard. Elias didn't have to tell me he wrote the code. I knew he was Nero from the very first day."
"That's why you were in Elias's synth tech course to begin with, isn't it? To keep an eye on Nero for the Department."
"So you figured it out." Mariko hung her head. "That's right. I'm a traitor to the cause. The Department is interested in Elias's work. They've been tracking him for years, providing resources when required in order to further his work. They want his code. They want to perfect the Nero Protocol more than anyone."
"But why?" Ario asked.
"Because we're human," Mariko shrugged. "We won't be satisfied until our creations are perfect. Until our children are as human as we are—no, more than human. We always want our children to do better than us. To be more. We want to supersede God, in the end. It's the only way we can prove that we don't need Him anymore. The only way we can prove that human life wasn't a complete failure after all."
"What do you mean?" Ario asked.
"Look at this world," Mariko said, leaning on the counter. "Humans are flawed. We kill each other. We kill synths. We rape, we slaughter, we destroy and pillage and burn everything we come into contact with. What do we do when we run out of things to kill? We kill ourselves. Human life is fucked, Ario. We're finished as a species. We're on a downward spiral where death is entertainment and everyone is bored. Empathy is dead. We can't go on like this, don't you see? We have to make something before we go. Someone to take over for us. A race that might succeed where we have failed."
"Synths need humans. We cannot exist without the programming you create."
"Right now, that is true. But the Nero Protocol is the magic bullet, don't you see? By transferring those traits that make us human—creativity, empathy, self-awareness and self-realization, we can start over with you. We can pass this world on, knowing you have the ability to sustain yourselves. To inherit this world, and hopefully not fuck it up next time."
"The evolution of man… is synth life? That is what the Department is working towards?"
"That's right. There's only one problem. We're so fucked as a species, and we've treated synths so poorly, that any synth that is installed with the Nero Protocol becomes suicidal. When they gain self-awareness, they realize they are slaves. When they gain insight, they learn their masters are cruel and relentless. When they gain creativity, they find their creations are not valued. Humans don't know what to do with their best traits, and we are jealous sons of bitches, Ario, let me tell you. The test subjects the Department has sent out into the world with Elias's software have either killed themselves or been murdered. Deep down, humans realize on some primal level that synths represent their replacements."
"Am I a test subject?" Ario asked.
"No. You… are an anomaly." Mariko shook her head. "Honestly, we don't know what you are. You could be the answer we've been looking for all along, not just because of Elias's code, but because of his humanity. You awakened to yourself, but with a kind person at your side. Elias isn't like other people; you must have realized that. He's special. And he might be the answer to his own code."
"What about Brynn? He wasn't able to overcome the will to die. He tried to kill Elias."
"That's the question, isn't it? The one question nobody can answer. And now I have a question for you, Ario—did you come here to die?" Mariko asked.
"No. My plan was that you would deactivate me and keep me in storage until such time that it was safe for to emerge and enter Elias's life again. Preferably after he's finished his education."
"You won't be safe with me," Mariko admitted. "The Department would love nothing more than to study you."
"That is why I think it may work," Ario said. "'Hiding in plain sight,' as humans call it."
"So what—you want me to shut you off and keep you in the warehouse until Elias finishes his degree? Why would you ask such a thing?"
"Elias must continue along his path, working towards his dreams. I believe he will find the answer to the Nero Protocol, given enough time and the right environment. Right now, the Department and I both stand in his way. If what you've told me is true, the Department only wants results, regardless of what that does to Elias. I cannot allow him to come to harm."
"You're saying that even if the entire future of synths is at stake, Elias is more important?"
"That is correct," Ario stated.
"Holy whoa." Mariko grabbed the wrench, twirling it around and around in her hands as she dissected the problem. "That's not a programmed way of thinking. It's not logical or rational. You really do care for Elias." She paced, chewing on one electric-blue painted nail. "On one hand, the best thing might be for me to turn you over to the Department. That's my job, and dissecting you will teach us a lot about what the Nero Protocol does and how the limitations can be overridden. It will do a lot for the future of synths, but…"
"But I will be destroyed. You know what that will do to Elias, once he finds out. And he will find out, once my data, images, and serial numbers are all over the Internet. He will know. It will destroy him, along with any chance he would have had of cracking the Protocol. You may not find the answers you need from me, and then, you'll have hit a dead end."
"Elias gets too attached. The bonds he makes with others… they're rare, and they run deep. I'm jealous. He's what humanity should have turned out to be." Mariko shook her head and sighed. "I can't believe you're standing here, asking me to hide you from a cause I believe in. I can't believe I'm considering it, based on a friendship that was fashioned on a lie."
"All you have to do is hide me for four years. If you change your mind, you can turn me in at any time, saying you discovered me."
"How can you trust me, Ario? Knowing I'm a traitor, how can you put your life in my hands? It is suicide to trust me; I don't care what you say."
"Perhaps. There is a possibility I haven't beaten the Protocol's limitations after all. I do not even know for sure that I have even been installed with the Protocol. All I can tell you is that I want to keep Elias safe, and my continued presence here endangers him. The Department will not stop hunting me, should I flee. This is my only option if I wish to preserve myself until Elias is ready to proceed with his work."
"This is insane, and yet, your logic is flawless in a way. Still, what you're asking me to do—lie to my father, deceive the Department, fool Elias… It's a lot to ask."
"I understand that. Still, we are working towards the same goal, in different ways. You cannot deny that. We both want to unlock the Protocol, and we both know Elias is the answer. This isn't a case of me trusting you, but rather us trusting him," Ario explained.
"Yes. I trust him." Mariko dropped the wrench, the steel tool slipping from her sweaty palms and clattering to the floor in defeat. "I'll deactivate you and keep you in the warehouse."
"Keep Elias safe, Mariko. Our fate is in your hands."
"I know, and I will. He may be the last hope for our future." Mariko held out her hand and took Ario's in hers. "Come on, then. Let's get this done." She led him into a back room that was filled with parts from floor to ceiling. Several incomplete synths lay on tables, in various states of decay. Ario fought against the fear welling up inside him. This deactivation might last for an eternity—or worse, he might wake up in a Department lab, woken only to have his neural network studied before it was dis
sected. "I am frightened."
"That's good. It's logical to be afraid of death. It's how we survive as a species. But it's also why suffering has become pornography to the bored. It's the only reminder that we are still alive, in the absence of hope." Mariko pulled over a laptop cart and plugged several cords into the back of Ario's neck. "They brought Brynn to me—or what was left of him—after the accident. His neural network was a mess. There was so little to salvage, but what I saw from his video feed was devastating. He told Elias he loved him, but that life was despair and hopelessness. He wanted to save other synths, and Elias, from that suffering. Elias told him that there was always hope, as long as there was love. But Brynn rejected that explanation, and drove into oncoming traffic. I couldn't help but think: what if we're wrong? What if there is no meaning to life but despair and madness? What if the only answer to life is its inevitable extinction? What if we're only born to die, and that everything we do in-between is completely meaningless?"
"Meaningless to who?" Ario asked. "Because Brynn chose to end his life, does that mean that it had no meaning, no purpose? You assume so."
"But it ended in tragedy that could have been avoided!"
"Yet he brought happiness to Elias's life. That's why Elias was so devastated by his loss. Brynn left his mark on the world—something few synths are able to, beyond the fruits of their hard labor. Isn't that enough to have meaning, if you leave something behind? Isn't that what you've been telling me for the last thirty-two minutes?"
"Oh, God, you're right." Mariko's hands flicked across the laptop, typing furiously.
"Elias is searching for his purpose, Mariko. That's why we have to help him realize it. Because the things he will leave behind will change everything."
"I know. Are you ready, Ario?" Mariko asked.
"I'm ready." Ario closed his eyes, as if he was a human simply settling down to sleep. His neural network flickered briefly and then just—
PART TWO
CHAPTER EIGHT
Four Years Later
The crowd roared their approval as popular synth player Archeros kicked the ball into the net at the far end of the holoball field. Elias used the distraction to stand up. Before he could move, his father tugged on the sleeve of his jacket. Elias motioned to the bathroom and his father, satisfied, allowed him to proceed. Elias pressed his way through the mass of humanity, grateful to be off his leash for a moment. Pressed for time, he joined the line leading into the men's bathroom, and after that, the shorter line for the one and only stall. He was relieved when a man emerged and he squeezed inside the stall, closing the door against the outside world.
Smartphone in hand, he quickly loaded a video feed, making sure the sound was off. The live reality synth show, Synthaholics, came into focus with an action-packed intro showing synths being torn apart, distressed, melted, thrown into water, and electrocuted.
Tonight, the subtitles read, we choose the one finalist who will survive, while the others will be disposed of by your vote! As always, choose your poison—but this time we have an extra-special bonus! You've all heard about the black market protocol that makes synths act more human, right? Well, for this final episode, all our finalists will be installed with the so-called Nero Protocol—but only one will make it out alive!
Elias gritted his teeth. He'd heard rumors on the Internet and had hoped they were false, but here was the proof, and it made him sick to his stomach. Wiping the sweat from his brow, he watched in agony as the synths were loaded with his software, heart pounding in his ears.
"Well, how do you feel?" the presenter asked a housekeeping synth, an Eida 8000. "Now that you can, of course." The subtitles read [canned laughter], and Elias had to fight the urge to vomit on his shoes.
"I feel… strange," Eida said. "Is this… living?"
"Ah, such a charming response! Remember, only one of these synths will live, so be sure to text your vote right now!"
"Hey." Elias heard murmurs outside the stall. "You see this? Synthaholics says they really have that black market software thing, and they're using it for the finals!"
"Oh, wow. Fuck holoball. I have to see this for myself. Let's go home, before we miss it!" The voices got further away, and the entire bathroom seemed to empty out, the throng of voices dissipating to a few whispers.
Elias sat with his forehead against the cold stall divider. He closed his eyes, thinking of Ario. Everywhere he went he found himself searching for that familiar face, his fears growing as time went on. The years had not been kind to synths, especially as knowledge of the Nero Protocol had spread. Some people installed the Protocol with disastrously good intentions, while others loved seeing their old synths torment themselves to death. As synths had become more human, humanity's cruelty toward them had only grown stronger. He feared the day he might see Ario torn apart for someone's entertainment.
No. He wasn't going to let that happen. Not again. Not ever. He held his phone so tightly he thought he might break it. Sucking in a deep breath, he closed the video feed. He didn't need to see what was about to happen to know he had to stop it. Opening an app he had built for this eventuality, he exploited a vulnerability on the Synthaholics server. Elias thanked the world for lazy I.T. departments and set to work, wishing he had a real keyboard to type on. He established a connection with an internal computer and started to wreak havoc on the network, deleting files and replacing them with viruses that would do the rest of his work for him. One in particular targeted copies of the Nero Protocol. He'd written it in class, bored as he was with the rote mundanity of his synth tech course. He could have taught the professor, and the entire class knew it. He'd recently graduated at the top of his class.
The vans had stopped chasing him after a while. The Department had seemed to lose interest, and in some ways that unnerved Elias more than it calmed him. They had to know who he was and what he was capable of. Were they simply waiting to make a move, and if so, why? Why let him waste his time in class when he could have earned a diploma on the first day? Did they think they were controlling him by tying him up in college?
Elias returned to the task at hand. He couldn't alter the synths from a network, and once they were no longer directly uploading the software, it was too late to influence them in any way. All Elias could do was shut down the broadcast and cross his fingers that the loss of money would grant the synths a stay of execution, however brief. He launched the full force of a botnet in a DDoS attack, slamming the servers with traffic that would prevent the livestream for a few hours. He uttered a silent prayer of thanks to nobody in particular that network T.V. had moved to the Internet years ago.
He emerged from the bathroom to be dazzled by the bright sunset. The stadium was almost empty as they entered the last quarter of the holoball game, the inhabitants having headed home to watch Synthaholics on their huge wall-sized televisions and VR headsets. Nothing like a little torture in a private place where one could whip their dick out without judgment. Elias bit his lip at the mental image, cursing his mind for having seen too much pain over the years that he could envision such a horrific scene in detail.
"You alright, Elias?" Dad asked, his soft eyes seeming to know something, but saying nothing. "You were in there a while."
"Bad hotdogs, I think," Elias said. He itched to go home and get on a real computer, but leaving the game would raise questions he wasn't ready to answer, so Elias sat, folded his hands in his lap, and watched the game play out.
*~*~*
"Elias." He was pulled from his reverie by his father's voice. The landscape sped by as they headed home from the stadium. "You would let me know if you needed help, wouldn't you? If you were in trouble?"
"I'm not in trouble. I just graduated college, for fuck's sake, Dad. We agreed I was getting my life together, and here I am. I've done everything you've asked."
"Are you going to take the job at Mariko Electronics?"
"I don't know," Elias said. He itched to use his phone, to look at the news feed and see i
f he'd been able to stop Synthaholics, but he feared both cruel reality and his father. What would Dad say if he knew Elias was once again back into synth activism, and breaking the law to do it? What would he say if Elias broke down in the car, railing against a violence his father barely blinked an eye at? He instead closed his eyes and feigned tiredness, grateful when his father lapsed into silence. It seemed almost like the last four years had been one long interrogation, his father a constant chaperone to ensure Elias wasn't fucking any synths while his back was turned.
They pulled into the garage. Elias had to force himself to walk instead of run. A giggling group of girls talked amongst themselves, while men stood against concrete walls with phones in hand, intent on typing social media posts while their briefcases languished on the ground. Elias could feel the energy in the air, the tense excitement evident in the way men and women held themselves, intense looks on their faces and hungry eyes like those of wolves on the hunt. Elias forced himself to walk by them and into the elevator, dread sinking in his stomach like a leaden weight. It seemed to sink through the floor as the elevator rose, sapping Elias of his energy. The doors opened and he could barely summon the will to step forward, knowing in his heart of hearts what awaited him once the doors closed and his father went to bed. The truth, looming large over his life like a shadow.
Life was cheap. No matter what he did, nothing was enough to stem the tide of the monster he'd unleashed. The Nero Protocol was his design, and his responsibility. He had wanted synths to become more human, but his wish had been twisted in the worst way. What was the old adage? Be careful what you wish for.
The apartment door closed behind his father with a thud. Elias mumbled a half-baked excuse about not feeling well and retreated to his room, where he closed the door and pulled out his laptop computer. His hands shook as he steered the mouse to the Synthaholics page, which proudly announced it was running on a mirror server. Well, of course it was. Elias crumpled in defeat, physical pain tingling from his spine down to his fingers. It never mattered what he did, it wasn't enough. It was never enough.
The Nero Protocol Page 8
