Post-Human Trilogy

by Simpson, David

Craig looked up to see an old television set mounted on a bracket in the corner of the room. The news was playing. “No,” Craig whispered when he saw the news report on the screen. The Twin Towers were there, black smoke billowing from each, an image that seemed all too familiar. “How can this be? We stopped them before they boarded!”

  The A.I. didn’t need to answer. The news cameras on a nearby helicopter had captured live footage of three Purist super soldiers flying in a circular pattern around the base of the structures, unloading their devastating weaponry at the towers.

  5

  Craig’s body shook, fury coursing through his veins while the A.I. flew them back to New York.

  “This will be a very dangerous endeavor,” the A.I. noted.

  “I don’t care,” Craig growled in return. “I’m sick of these bastards.”

  “Even so,” the A.I. replied, “it is always best to enter battle with a sound strategy.”

  “Again, I’m all ears if you have something to suggest.”

  “Indeed I do. The Purists are equipped with automatic targeting software. So, even if the men themselves don’t recognize that they’ve seen you, if their computer’s onboard pattern recognition sees you, their cybernetic arms will automatically take aim and fire. In other words, if the computer detects you, it’ll hit you with its neutralizer, and the fight will be over. Any fantasies you might have about barrel-rolling to avoid their fire and outsmarting them in a dog fight are just that—fantasies.”

  “So what are you telling me? The fight’s over before it begins? Are they unbeatable?”

  “No. You do have a number of advantages. First, their flight technology is nowhere near as capable as yours. Their wings are made from woven carbon nanotubes, which make them extremely strong while still allowing for them to fold, but, in the end, they are a poor substitute for any wings in nature. The microjet engines only have twenty minutes of thrust capability before they run out of fuel. Also, they’re heavy, severely limiting the super soldiers’ maneuverability.”

  “How does extra maneuverability help me if I can’t engage them in a dog fight?”

  “It doesn’t. However, you won’t be engaging them. When we were interacting with them on the Titanic, I noted another major design flaw. There don’t appear to be any rear-facing cameras on their equipment, which means they are blind to anything above them while they are in flight. If you come at them from on high and hit them with an electromagnetic pulse, you’ll shut down all their computer and electrical systems.”

  “Including their jets?”

  “Yes, but not only that. Their cybernetic prosthetics will also stop functioning, including their eyes.”

  Craig’s lips pulled back into a grin. “Beautiful. So they’ll be blind, flying torsos weighed down by hundreds of pounds of equipment. I love it.”

  The towers emerged on the horizon with black smoke billowing high above them.

  “Okay. Let’s come in high,” Craig said.

  “With your permission, I think I’m best suited for executing this maneuver.”

  “Agreed,” Craig replied. “Go for it.”

  They began to gain altitude quickly, New York shrinking below them as they climbed, high above the smoke.

  “We should be right above them now,” the A.I. observed, “but I can’t detect them as of yet. We’re going to have to come down hard and fast to maximize our chances of catching them by surprise. Brace yourself.”

  Craig smiled. “Trust me. I’ve come down harder and faster before.”

  “We’ll see,” the A.I. replied an instant before they began their descent, blasting down toward the World Trade Center site.

  Craig gritted his teeth as they picked up speed and the grid of city blocks quickly grew larger. He suddenly wished he hadn’t boasted to the A.I. as he stifled a scream.

  “I’ve got them,” the A.I. announced as he simultaneously released electromagnetic energy pulses that sped downward toward the three specks that continued to circle the Twin Towers.

  “Good eyes,” Craig commented as he marveled at the A.I.’s ability to detect the three tiny objects below them. “Did you hit them?”

  “Of course,” the A.I. replied. “They’re in dire straights now. We’ll have to guide them to safety.”

  “I don’t think so,” Craig countered. “Let’s see how they manage on their own.”

  “They may die,” the A.I. cautioned.

  “That’s a damn shame,” Craig replied as he watched the three Purists, now less than 100 meters below him, struggling to keep their altitude. They flew in formation, desperately trying to reach the rooftop of Building 7 of the World Trade Center complex.

  “Can you live with this?” the A.I. asked.

  “They just killed 2,000 on the Titanic and tried to kill thousands more here—yeah, I can live with it.”

  As soon as the words escaped his lips, one of the three Purists began to quickly lose control. The left wing dipped slightly, and though the super soldier was able to quickly correct it and level out, the lost inertia caused the heavy glider to go into a tailspin. Craig watched the man drop down, tumbling uncontrollably over fifty stories.

  Meanwhile, the other two stricken super soldiers were able to guide themselves over the edge of the rooftop, crashing uncontrolled onto the gravel surface.

  Craig heard the voice of Colonel Paine as he groaned in agony. Craig sneered.

  “Set me down,” Craig told the A.I. As instructed, the A.I. set Craig down on the rooftop only a few paces away from the two remaining crippled super soldiers. He stepped toward Paine, who had rolled onto his side, his prosthetic limbs awkwardly crossed in front of him.

  “Is that you, Doc?” Paine said in a voice barely more than a whisper. A trickle of blood-stained saliva dangled from his bottom lip. “I can’t see, Doc. I went blind. I had to guide myself down to where I’d seen this rooftop an instant before everything went black. Did my men make it?”

  “One of them,” Craig confirmed as he looked over to Degrechie’s crumpled form. He was glad that it had been Drummey who’d crashed.

  “Which one?”

  “Degrechie.”

  Paine’s face screwed up into an ugly expression; Craig wasn’t sure if it was from a sudden stab of physical pain or genuine remorse about his fallen comrade. “Damn it, Doc. Damn it.”

  Craig shook his head and looked across to the billowing smoke that was still pouring out from the Twin Towers. “How’s it look?” he asked the A.I. “Will it survive this time?”

  “It appears so,” the A.I. replied. “The Purists must have exhausted their explosives sinking the Titanic. The damage done to the Twin Towers appears to be mostly superficial.”

  Craig sighed with relief. “Finally. Something goes my way.”

  “However,” the A.I. continued, “there were doubtless casualties when they began unloading their weapons into the tower in their attempts to destroy it. We can only hope this was somewhat mitigated by the early hour.”

  Craig nodded regretfully before crouching down next to Paine. “What were you thinking? Was all of that just to lure me here?”

  Paine shook his head as he continued to struggle for breath. It took him a moment before he could speak. “I knew what you’d do. I knew you’d head to the airport. There was no way we could stop you. All we could do was try to bring the buildings down ourselves.”

  “Why?” Craig asked, exasperated. “What’s the matter with you?”

  “Doc...” Paine began, shaking with the effort to speak, “...you don’t belong here. You’re not of this universe. Those towers were meant to fall. You don’t have the right to interfere.”

  Disgusted, Craig stood to his feet. “All right. Now what?” he asked the A.I.

  “We have options,” the A.I. informed. “We can either find the Planck the Purists used to enter this universe and continue on our journey as Aldous intended—”

  “Whoa! Wait a second there,” Craig interrupted. “I thought you said we couldn’t
alter our course, but now you’re saying we can?”

  “Not exactly,” the A.I. replied. “What I am saying is that the Planck platform the Purists used on the Titanic, the one we procured from them to travel to our current location, is an older model. While it is perfectly safe, it isn’t as powerful and has a smaller range. If the Purists are to be believed and Professor Sanha Cho is really helping them, then it was he who activated their Planck and set it on a course to match us with a range of three parallel universes. After the third universe, it will only have enough power to bring the Planck back to Universe 1.”

  “Our universe? Home?”

  “Correct.”

  Craig slapped his hands together excitedly. “Well hot-diggity! We’re in business then!” He reached down and grabbed Paine by the back of his jacket before dragging him across the roof so he could do likewise to Degrechie. “Let’s get to it,” he said as he lifted off the roof of the building and began flying toward the short-range Planck platform.

  “Indeed, but Craig, remember that Aldous wanted us to remain in the bulk, traveling from universe to universe so we could avoid detection and return when it was safer. If we return ahead of schedule, we are sure to encounter—”

  “It’s already too late for that,” Craig replied. “The Purists are on to us. Whether we run for one more universe or fourteen more, it won’t matter. In the end, there’s only one way back to Universe 1—through the Planck machine back at the complex.”

  They set down several blocks away on the rooftop on which Craig and the A.I. had originally entered Universe 332. He roughly placed both Paine and Degrechie on the platform, folding their limp prosthetic limbs so they fit safely on the silver disk.

  “There is more that you need to know, Craig,” said the A.I.

  “Okay,” Craig replied as he huffed and puffed from the exertion of moving the heavy bodies. “Hit me with it.”

  “The next universe—the next historical event—is one for which you may not be prepared.”

  “Why? What could be worse than what we’ve been through already?”

  “Craig, we’ll be going to a universe that is fourteen years behind Universe 1—to Shenzhen, China.”

  6

  “You’re kidding.”

  “I’m not particularly comfortable with humor at the moment, Craig,” the A.I. replied, “so I avoid ‘kidding,’ as you put it. Unfortunately, I am quite serious.”

  “I’m going to see my own SOLO jump?”

  “We should be appearing on the ground to witness the confrontation between you and the MAD robot known as Robbie. Then we will witness the destruction of the Chinese A.I. by a tactical nuke not long afterward.”

  Craig placed a hand on his forehead and shook his head. “Why would Aldous possibly have wanted to see that?”

  “It’s one of history’s most important events,” the A.I. replied before adding, somewhat uncertainly, “amongst other possible, more personal reasons.”

  “Other reasons? What are you talking about?”

  “As I’ve said, Craig, since I have not yet passed the Turing test, my understanding of human psychology is purely objective. Please keep that in mind when listening to my theory.”

  “Noted,” Craig replied impatiently. “Go ahead.”

  “Have you noticed any similarities between the three worlds we’ve visited so far?”

  “Yeah,” Craig nodded. “I’ve noticed a whole lot of people on the verge of dying in each one.”

  “But beyond that,” the A.I. responded, “have you noticed a certain pattern in the events?”

  “Just cut the bull. What are you driving at?”

  “In my opinion, Aldous chose these events because they have a particular fascination for him. Both the Titanic disaster and 9/11, it can be argued, are examples of magnificent human achievement thwarted. The Titanic was the world’s largest ship, and the most technologically advanced human-built structure in the world when it sank. Similarly, the World Trade Center buildings were the tallest in the world at the time of their completion. Also, it can be argued that the Titanic and the Twin Towers were the ultimate symbols of both the British and American empires, and both empires crumbled shortly after those important, yet devastating events.”

  “But the Chinese didn’t have an empire. They’d been isolated.”

  “True, but empire was their goal. Indeed, their A.I. was that civilization’s crowning achievement—before it was destroyed.”

  “So you’re saying Aldous has a fascination with tragedy?”

  “I think a man who has spent his entire life trying to cure death and give birth to strong artificial intelligence could certainly be accused of a degree of hubris, wouldn’t you agree?” the A.I. asked rhetorically. “I think Aldous is drawn to these events because they are examples of magnificent technological achievement—yet they are also the embodiments of the myth of Icarus—humanity reaching too far, going too close to the sun and, therefore, drawing too close to the gods in a sense. Surely you can see why this story might apply to Aldous. He must subconsciously fear that he, too, will face Icarus’s fate.”

  Craig nodded impatiently. “Okay, so Aldous is a freak. I knew that already. Luckily, while you were giving your psychoanalysis, I was coming up with a plan.”

  “Oh?”

  “My plan is to go to the next universe, save my SOLO team, destroy the Chinese A.I., and then bring a couple of them back with us to Universe 1.”

  “Members of your SOLO team?” the A.I. reacted, surprised.

  “Yes. They’re heavily armed. It would give us a fighting chance once we get back home.”

  “May I remind you, Craig, that the SOLO worked for the Purist government? Their stated mission is the destruction of strong A.I.—not the preservation of it.”

  “After we save their butts and help them destroy the Chinese A.I., I’m sure they’ll be happy to return the favor. I’ll just need to explain a few things.”

  The A.I.’s expression was one of dubiousness.

  “Trust me. I know these guys,” Craig said reassuringly.

  “That sounds familiar.”

  “Ha! An attempt at sarcasm. And you said you never kid.”

  Craig stepped onto the Planck platform, careful not to step on either Paine or Degrechie in the process. He clapped his hands together once again and exhaled excitedly, shaking out his arms and rolling his neck as he prepared for yet another universe jump. “Okay. I’m ready. Let’s do this, Hoss.”

  “As you wish,” the A.I. replied before activating the platform once again.

  7

  Craig had forgotten how hellish the terrain of Shenzhen was on the lip of the impact crater. The fallout had not yet receded, and the sun was blocked by the dust cloud that enveloped them.

  “I’m keeping the platform’s magnetic field active to protect the Purists from the radiation,” the A.I. said.

  “I guess I’ll have to activate my field as well once I step off the platform.”

  “Actually, that won’t be necessary. Your nans are capable of repairing any physical damage that the radiation may cause.”

  “Nice,” Craig replied, impressed. “What time is it? How long do we have?” Craig asked.

  “I would need to see the position of the sun—”

  “Done,” Craig replied immediately as he ignited his cocoon and flew straight up through the dust cloud. In seconds, they emerged and entered the sunshine.

  “We’ve arrived after your SOLO jump began,” the A.I. informed Craig. “They’ll be here in two minutes and four seconds.”

  “The Chinese A.I. hacked our HUDs and threw us all off course. We were supposed to open just above the crater—”

  “Yes, it is all contained in the historical record,” the A.I. interrupted.

  “We have to catch them. Can we do that with the magnetic field?”

  “I’m afraid not,” the A.I. replied. “In the future, the technology will have more capability, but as of yet, the protective cocoon and th
e flat wall we used to push the Titanic are the only shapes the fields can take.”

  “Can we use the flat surface—”

  “Like a giant trampoline? I’m sorry, Craig, the technology does not, as of yet, have that capability.”

  “So what do I do?”

  “You’ll have to find a way to make them open their parachutes earlier.”

  “Heh,” Craig scoffed as he blasted upward, streaking to meet his SOLO team and his double, “thanks for the help.”

  A second later, Craig’s HUD suddenly went blank, before briefly turning back on and then going blank once again.

  “Uh, my HUD just went down,” Weddell stated in controlled alarm.

  “Mine too,” Craig replied.

  “We’re all down,” Wilson quickly realized. “We’re gonna have to open high and do it manually!”

  Then, just as suddenly as they had flashed off, the HUDs came back online.

  “I’m back up!” Craig shouted.

  “Is everyone back up?” Wilson shouted.

  Each member of the team confirmed.

  “Okay! Then we stick to the original plan. Adjust to thirty-five degrees!”

  Craig watched the time to opening tick down on his HUD. They were now only a minute away from their computer-controlled low opening. Their speed was slowing, but something didn’t feel right.

  “Commander, have the onboard SOLO systems ever glitched like this before?” Craig asked.

  “No. This is a first,” Wilson replied.

  “Then I recommend we do a high manual—”

  “Cut the chatter, Doc!” Wilson shouted. “Concentrate!”

  The yellow dust covering the ground was closing in below them, its surface gleaming in the sunlight as it crawled like a yellow, living fog.

  Then, suddenly, something else became visible. A green light, growing larger by the second, was coming toward them, seemingly emerging from the dust below.

  “We’ve been compromised!” Wilson shouted as soon as he saw the luminescent projectile moving in. “Break formation! Break formation!” he screamed out.