The Gardener of Man

by A. W. Cross

  I struggled to sit. My body was limp, as though my bones had turned to blood. “Where is Kalbir?”

  The casual weight of Tor’s hand on my shoulder made my struggle futile.

  “Still in Goldnesse. Ryan locked her in a cell. We didn’t have much choice but to leave her there. She did, after all, commit a crime. I don’t know if it was the right decision, though. She’s still one of our own.”

  “Don’t touch me.” I pushed his hand away. She’s still alive.

  “Ai—”

  “She should be dead. I know how good your aim is.”

  “Ailith, she’s not well…none of us are. Oliver—”

  I didn’t want to hear it. Molten fury flowed through me. “You should’ve killed her.”

  “Ailith, she’s one of us.”

  “She killed him. Murdered him, Tor. My father.”

  “I know. But—”

  “Is this how you protect me? You used to kill people you’d never even met, Tor. People who may have been innocent of everything but being in someone else’s way. And yet, she murders my father, and you let her walk away. You can’t protect me.” My hands ached. I wanted to hurt him. I needed to.

  “I—”

  “Get out.” My voice was no longer my own. Tor may’ve been wrong about Kalbir, but he was right about me. He’d always been right about me. I didn’t blink. “Get out. Get out.”

  He stood stiffly, and for the first time, I noticed the gauze peeking from the neckline of his shirt. I don’t care.

  “Leave before I make you break your own neck.”

  “Ailith, stop.” Fane stood in the doorway. “Tor, go. I’ll take over.”

  Tor paused by the door. “I’m sorry. One day you’ll believe me. I can wait.”

  Fane settled beside my bed, blocking my view of the door. “You shouldn’t blame him, you know.”

  “I can blame whoever I want. My father is dead.” Keep saying it. Remember how it feels.

  “Tor brought your father’s body home. They attacked him, tried to kill him. He kept fighting until he made it through.” He took both my hands in his. “When you’re ready, you can give your father a proper burial.”

  I closed my eyes. “He still should’ve killed her.” I want something sharp. “Why are you still here? Why haven’t you gone back to the Cosmists?”

  “Well, God gave humankind free will, right? Looks like my gods weren’t much different.”

  “God didn’t give humankind free will, Fane, he gave them doubt.”

  “It still applies. I have doubt.”

  “Doubt about what? All of us?”

  “No, about them. Ethan, Lien… I’m worried they did this to you.”

  “We don’t even know what ‘this’ is, Fane.”

  “Oliver found corrupted nanites in all of you. He’s found a way to stop them temporarily, but the corruption will find a way through. He said we need to figure out where it came from and stop it.”

  “And you think it was Lien and Ethan?”

  “I think it’s possible. Ethan brought something when they came here, didn’t he? Something you all drank? What if there was something in there? Ethan knows enough about your design to damage you.”

  “But Lily gave us an injection, and she knew what we were. Can’t Oliver tell where it came from?”

  “He’s trying, but it’s taking a long time. His abilities were affected too. He said he needed to talk to you about it, to talk to all of us. He said there were other things as well, things you’d asked him to find?”

  I nodded. I’m so tired.

  “Won’t they come and take you back?”

  “They can try. But I’m not leaving. You, Pax…you all treat me the way I want to be treated. Like a person.”

  “I thought you didn’t want to be human?”

  “I don’t. But I want to be afforded the same respect as one.”

  “What will you do if they won’t let you stay?”

  A knife, scraping against a whetstone.

  “You saw what I did to Tor.” He didn’t look happy at the thought.

  “Haven’t they given you a kill switch? Mil and Lexa gave us one.”

  “They did. But I got Oliver to…remove it when he was checking me for the corrupt nanites. Along with some other things. My inability to raise a hand against them, for example.”

  “Is she awake?” asked a voice from the hallway. Oliver. “Well, at least you still have your shirts on. I need to talk to the big A, if you don’t mind. I don’t want to leave Cindra for too long.”

  “Is she okay?” I threw back the covers and tried to sit up. The room swam.

  “Lie down. She’s upset. She couldn’t help her ex with his family, and he blamed her. Turned on her, the fu—”

  “Oliver,” Fane warned him.

  “Sorry. She’s upset, and she doesn’t want to burden Ailith, since—”

  “My father died.”

  “Yes.” He ran a hand through his hair. “A, look, I— Fane, do you mind if I talk to Ailith alone?”

  “No. I’ll go.” He squeezed my hand. “If you’re okay?”

  “I am, thanks. Fane? Could you go find Tor? I-I should probably apologize to him.”

  “I will.” He leaned in and brushed his lips over my forehead. “I’ll also go water your plants. If Oliver upsets you, I’ll strangle him with one of Pax’s sweaters,” he finished cheerfully.

  “Thanks.”

  Oliver waited until Fane had closed the door behind him. “How are you holding up?”

  “I’m okay,” I lied.

  He snorted. “Well, at least you can’t lie. Not believably, anyway. Add that to your repertoire, and you’ll be unstoppable.”

  “I’ll work on it.”

  “Look, I’m sorry about your dad. I mean it. I lost my own father before the war. I know how you’re feeling, and it’s rough.”

  “Was your father murdered right in front of your eyes? Because if not—”

  “Only if you consider someone taking their own life murder,” he said quietly.

  “Oliver, I—”

  He held up a hand. “Please don’t apologize. You didn’t know, and part of me did tell you to shock you. I got over it a long time ago. I didn’t tell you so we could pay a game of look-who-has-it-worse. It was a half-assed attempt to empathize with you. Forget it.”

  I grabbed his hand, the first time I’d ever touched him in kindness. “It was three-quarters-assed, at least, Oliver. Keep working on it. You add empathy to your repertoire, and you’ll be unstoppable. But I am sorry. And thank you.”

  He squeezed my fingers before pulling away. “Don’t thank me yet. A, we’re in the shit. I’m still working my way through all the information, but between the corrupted nanites, the rain, and that Ella you asked me to look into…it’s pretty grim news.”

  “Any good news?”

  “I can stop the corruption. We’ll be fine. But I still don’t know where it came from, or exactly how it spread.”

  “Okay, so how can we figure that out? Kalbir obviously thought it was Lily. Fane suspects the Cosmists.”

  “It wasn’t Lily. She wouldn’t have the knowledge or the means. The corruption misdirects our nanites, almost like an autoimmune disease. They’re no longer replenishing us. Some have gone dormant, and other are attacking us, though not in great enough numbers for us to really feel it yet. If the corruption had continued to spread, however…” He shook his head.

  “But why were our abilities affected? They’re separate from the nanites.”

  “It seems to be a self-defense mechanism. Our brain communicates with our nanites, so it would make sense for there to be a failsafe to protect it, and thus our programming, if something happened to the integrity of the nanites, like a virus, for example.” He leaned back, his face grim. “If the nanites somehow managed to pass on corrupt information to our brains…well, I honestly don’t know what would happen, but I don’t care to find out. Bottom line, parts of our brains disabled themselve
s to protect us, including our abilities. I discussed it with Mil and Lexa, and they seemed to agree.”

  I tried to wedge another pillow behind my back. “Do they have any idea how it would have happened? Could it have been them?”

  Oliver snatched the pillow and stuffed it under me. “Careful, you may feel dizzy sitting up that straight,” he warned. “No, they don’t. And I don’t think they had anything to do with it, especially not after your warning. They’re not that stupid. They’d have done something faster and more effective.”

  “You’re probably right. They would’ve had to find some way to incapacitate us, something that would’ve shut our bodies down entirely.” I leaned my head back against the wall. Although the dizziness was passing, the room still shifted enough to make me nauseous.

  “Exactly. Which brings me to Ella. She’s not dead. Well, not completely. That’s why you can still connect to her.”

  “What do mean? She’s alive? Here?”

  “Yes and no. Her body is gone, but her consciousness exists. From what I was able to find, Mil and Lexa were part of a team that studied consciousness preservation—it was a branch of their cyberization studies. They continued to research it after the war, and it looks like one of their experiments finally succeeded.” He grimaced. “To a degree, anyway. Parts of Ella still exist, but…she won’t last much longer. Based on their data, it seems our consciousness atrophies and eventually dies without a proper host. That’s why your communication with her is limited.”

  “Why would she ever agree to something so experimental?” I knew from Eire how eager Ella was to be a pioneer, but she must’ve known how risky it was.

  He pulled a face. “I don’t think she did, Ailith. I think they killed her. Well, Mil, anyway.”

  “What?”

  “This is where the silver rain comes in. Your suspicions were right. The reason you connected to that person when you touched her was the same reason you can do it with us. The rain holds dormant nanites, materials, and a catalyst. With a Pantheon Modern signature.”

  “You mean—”

  “Some of the bombs dropped during the war were intended to cyberize mass numbers of the population. Turn them into cyborgs, whether they wanted it or not. This first two things the nanites were programmed to do was to set up a rudimentary communication network. Then they were supposed to start proliferating.”

  “So what I…heard from that woman was the beginning of that network?”

  “Yes. Had it worked correctly, many people still wouldn’t have survived it, but those who did would’ve become cyborgs, although nowhere near as sophisticated as we are. But the war happened too soon, and the catalyst wasn’t refined. So nobody survived. All the symptoms we’ve seen are the nanites trying to fulfill their programming but killing their hosts instead.” He looked as sick as I felt.

  All those people. People we knew. Their families. How many of them had it killed? I can’t— “How does that tie into Ella?”

  “It looks like Ella was my counterpart. They kept her awake, like Tor, to help them with their research. She wrote everything down in a personal diary. She was so excited to be a cyborg and so thrilled with her abilities, she wanted to learn everything. And she did. Her mistake was asking them about it.”

  “So they killed her?” I’d suspected Lexa and Mil were hiding secrets, but I’d never imagined the scope of what Oliver was telling me.

  “Yes.” He reconsidered. “Well, more like they let her die. According to the records—it seems Mil can’t bear to get rid of any of his precious research, the arrogant fuck—during a routine check, Lexa told Ella she’d found something wrong and they needed to put her to sleep to fix it. I don’t know if there really was something wrong or it was something they caused, but either way, she went into some kind of arrest, and they didn’t save her. Not all of her, anyway.”

  “But why would they keep her consciousness if they wanted to kill her?”

  “Who knows? Guilt? Lexa sees us as her children, you know that. Or maybe they just wanted to see how successful their research was, and suddenly a guinea pig fell into their laps. It’s easy enough to silence someone when you can hold them in your hand.”

  I found out something I shouldn’t. Then they put me in this place.

  “I have to tell Eire.”

  “We need to figure out this corrupted-nanites thing first or whoever it was might have their way and finish the job.”

  Have their way.

  “I will have my way.”

  Umbra.

  “Oliver, when I was unconscious, it was like I was jumping in and out of everyone’s minds. Callum and Umbra were having a strange conversation. She seemed to know what was wrong with us, and she wanted to leave…” I hesitated. “I know it sounds crazy, but could it have been Umbra? Tor said Callum was in his room, but maybe we should go check.”

  “Umbra? That archaic piece-of-shit chip? No way. It’s too basic. I mean, it was obsolete decades ago.”

  “But what if the cyberization changed her as well? Advanced her? The way she controls Callum…”

  He looked doubtful. “I suppose it’s possible…but it’s unlikely. My guess? The Cosmists. They either brought it with them when they came here. Or, and you’re not going to like this, Ailith, it could be Fane, either by their hand or his own.”

  “No. No way was it Fane. He wouldn’t—”

  “Are you sure? I mean, who knows what he’s programmed to do? If our side can drop cyborg-birthing bombs, who’s to say what the Cosmists are capable of?”

  “I just don’t think he would.” I covered my face with my hands. “But you’re right, it is possible. You said you’ve sorted the corruption for now, right? I should be able to use my abilities?”

  “Yes. What’s the plan?”

  “I’ll see if I can get anything from Fane and Callum. The trick is getting into Callum without Umbra knowing I’m there.”

  “I may be able to help you with that. I can—”

  Raised voices broke out downstairs. Although muffled, the panic in them was obvious.

  Oliver and I looked at each other. “Well, it looks like that’ll have to wait for now. I’ll go see what’s going on. You stay here.”

  “No, I’ll come. Just give me a minute to get dressed.”

  Oliver left the door open, and as I laced up my boots, I considered Callum’s door. Maybe if I saw him in person, stayed out of his head and pretended I didn’t suspect him, that we suspected the Cosmists instead, Umbra would let her guard down. It was worth a try, at least.

  I crept to the door and pressed my ear against it. Nothing. “Callum?” I tapped. There was no response, so I tried the doorknob. It was unlocked, turning easily in my hand. Taking a deep breath, I pushed the door open.

  Callum was gone. The sheets had been torn off the bed, and bloody fingermarks marred the clean whiteness of the mattress.

  On the wall, in a quickly drying carmine, was a single word: UMBRA.

  So what could we do now? It may seem the answer was nothing, but it wasn’t. We’d begin again. We’d managed to save enough that, given time and resources, all was not lost. It probably wouldn’t happen in our lifetime, but it could happen. If we failed, we were right: the human race had reached its pinnacle and was doomed. And if we succeeded, we were also right: the human race was worth preserving by any means, a legacy that one day would take us beyond this wreckage.

  —Ethan Strong, personal journal

  I raced down the stairs, two at a time, colliding with Cindra at the bottom. She managed to keep both of us upright.

  “Ailith, are you okay? What’s wrong?”

  “It’s Callum. He’s gone. And he—”

  Lily, Ryan, and Grace huddled together by the table. Lily’s bottom lip was split down the middle, her eyes reflective with tears. A dark bruise was beginning to bloom around Ryan’s eye. Grace looked as though she was in shock, her eyes wide and unseeing. When Lily saw me, her tears overflowed, making tracks down her cheeks.


  “What happened?”

  Lexa gestured to our visitors. “They were attacked. By others in the town. They just got here.”

  “How did they find us? Does everyone know where we are?”

  “I brought them.” Stella stood against the wall next to the doorway where she’d been speaking with Fane and Tor.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “Ethan and Lien…it’s not right. They’re not right.” Her cheeks flushed.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Ryan was just about to tell us. Come on, let’s go sit down.” Mil gestured at the empty seats around the table as he took one.

  Lexa appeared from the kitchen, carrying a tray of steaming mugs. “Everyone, sit down. I really do think we should treat those injuries first, though.”

  “We don’t have time for this,” I said as the others pulled out their chairs. “Callum’s gone. I think Umbra was responsible for the corruption.”

  “Umbra? Who’s Umbra?” Mil leaned forward as Lexa set the mugs down on the table.

  It doesn’t matter now. “The chip Callum swallowed during his cyberization? That seemed harmless after it incorporated? It was an AI he’d grown up with. The process changed her, made her stronger somehow. She wanted to become like Fane, to have a body.”

  Lexa unconsciously put her hand over one of the steaming mugs, snatching it back only as the steam scalded her. “What? Why didn’t you tell us? How did we not know?”

  “She became a part of him, undetectable. Even Oliver couldn’t isolate her. That’s why Callum stopped coming to see you. She threatened to kill him if we revealed her.”

  Lexa raised her blistered skin to her mouth and shut her eyes. Ryan and Lily stared at her then at us, uncomprehending.

  “What? You mean it wasn’t the Cosmists?” Fane asked. A fertile field overrun with weeds. A carcass with a hollow stomach.

  “What? Us? How can you even think that, Fane?” Stella asked, wounded.

  “Stella,” Fane said, his voice gentle.

  “Fane, I know they…” Her voice trailed off, and she shook her head. “You’re right, I can’t defend them, given what they’ve done. But I know they didn’t cause any of this.”