Divided Worlds Trilogy 01 - Disconnect

by Imran Siddiq

  * * *

  One level down, through a well-lit tunnel, was a glass dome overlooking a room bustling with activity. People sat around tables inspecting android limbs, and screens, flickering with images of overlapping muscles, hung over them.

  Zachary counted four dissected androids.

  Bhavini stood with her back to the dome. “The Integrated Confederation created Galilei for Europa.”

  “I know,” nodded Zachary. “Land. Mines. Homes. Resources dried up.” He dug his fingernails into his sides. “They switched off the gravity and made Underworld.”

  “That’s the slimmed-down, Carell version. The resources didn’t stop just because Galilei failed to mine. They never had a chance to mine. The Confederation pulled the funding to explore Saturn’s moon, Titan. Advancements in Relative-Light-Distortion Propulsion made the transfer of equipment to Titan practical.”

  “I don’t understand?”

  “Bending light to propel you across long distances.” She folded her arms. “Galilei’s true goal was to secure a stable footing on Europa. That’s what mattered. The colonisation phase could’ve come years later.”

  Zachary watched an android, still wearing human skin on its front, be hoisted up into the air. Its limbs hung loose, the exact opposite of a rigid metallic object.

  “If there’s no funding, why is Sokolov restarting it?” he asked.

  “Everybody thinks that Galilei is an orbiting, everlasting fortress, but they’re wrong. The space we have available is taken for granted. More people are born than those dying. There are two reasons for why the Base’s Maintenance-Division contracts Underworlders to perform hull repairs. First, they’re cheap, and second, fewer people in Assayer ever come to learn of it.”

  Zachary nodded at the implications. “The House doesn’t want them to know about the attacks.”

  “Or that Galilei’s cracking.”

  A rod pushed into the hoisted android’s back caused a silent scream; it shouldn’t have felt pain. Zachary gulped, noticing the cold stare Bhavini gave to the android. What did the ROM workers below achieve by harming it?

  “I don’t understand how attacking Underworld will help them land on Europa.” Zachary’s scalp prickled as he suddenly realised. “They’re going to use Underworld’s metal.”

  “It’s the richest source of recyclable metal in easy reach, and it’s free.”

  The room below suddenly vanished into darkness. Whoa!

  Bhavini stretched to a shelf containing small discs. She turned a dial and swapped the disc inside a small box. Lights in the room reactivated to show wind brushing through the air. Where were the androids? Uneven mounds grew on the white floor. What was going on?

  “This is a big screen,” gasped Zachary.

  “Collected memories.”

  “From?”

  “I’m getting to that.” Bhavini tapped the dome.

  Cracks tore under the screen, reflecting back the white surface that was fast approaching. Red light flashed throughout before the recording ended.

  “Every ship sent to Europa has struggled against Jupiter’s pull,” she said. “The ships compact into themselves, like crumpled cans. Toxic gases leaked through that ship you just saw, melting the crew.”

  The next disc played.

  A large room was filled with suited people and others in white uniforms looking over brightly glowing screens along the face of tables.

  “Nine years ago, Sokolov brought the great minds of Galilei together to work solely on conquering Europa. Scientists, physicists, astronomers, meteorologists, geologists, mining corps, and other whizz-kid gurus became the occupiers of the Centurion.”

  Zachary pre-empted the drop in her tone. “What went wrong?”

  “Carell was part of the project, and he hated Sokolov’s attitude. Nobody inside the Centurion cared about who they launched. Failure made the project stronger. Failure gave them a chance to learn.”

  “So Carell left.”

  “Carell did more,” smiled Bhavini. “He joined up with a fringe movement who shared the goal of ruining Sokolov’s dream. I was part of the gang then. We had the easy part of distracting the patrollers for a planned attack.”

  The footage stopped after an explosion burst through the Centurion’s left wall, throwing tables and people into the air.

  “Carell stormed the Centurion, but things went off plan. The codes to the Cryo-Reactor that he needed to skyrocket the place had been changed.” She held her deep inhalation for a few seconds. “Jordan Kade offered the codes in exchange for the hostages that Carell had taken.”

  Astonished, Zachary coughed. So, Jordan Kade had been present at the time. Was that the reason for his disgraced removal as ambassador; because he had to barter lives for codes?

  “Things got messy when the patrollers moved in. Carell managed to plant his detonators and get out, though not everybody did.”

  Unease rippled through Zachary’s delicate stomach. “How many died?”

  “Lots.” Bhavini muttered under her breath. “The charges within the Reactor caused an outward burst of Cryo-molecules. Everything inside was locked into deep freeze. Technically dead, yet intact.”

  Zachary shuddered.

  “Before Carell defected, he worked on advanced androids with the Segments Laboratory. Another of Sokolov’s obsessions is to go beyond the programmed state of a mechanical chip to a living one.”

  Hands raised, Zachary eased away from the dome. “Are you saying that he … no, that’s impossible. You’re not allowed to make androids like us.”

  Bhavini activated another disc. On the table that materialised lay a purple body locked inside ice with icicles hanging from its raised arm. Zachary stepped back as the image zoomed in to the tip of a needle entering a tiny hole in the skull.

  “In deep freeze, they extracted ribonucleic acid from the brain. It’s a flawed method of trying to force memories of the donor to a host, but, by adding it to a self-sufficient membrane, the RNA can influence a pre-programmed cognitive unit. An android is an android, no matter what, even with the best emotive syntax, but if you add a trace of someone’s life, then there’s a high chance of its capabilities expanding. Unpredictable, yes, but most function with similarities to the original donor.”

  Zachary writhed. Although he was sure she was telling the truth, he refused to believe that a human part could influence a bot. It made no sense whatsoever. Combinations worked if flesh was added above metal as a layer, but not within. A piston could be seamed with ligaments to allow fluid motion and action, but to pass on memories of a previous life sounded ridiculous.

  “So, if my brain was injected into a bot …” began Zachary.

  “Not all of it. Just the RNA and even that’s hit and miss. And it’s not injected. It’s added to a living membrane that absorbs all that it can.”

  “It’s disgusting. That’s messing with things that shouldn’t be messed with.”

  Bhavini stared at the worn disc she held in front of the box. It’d been watched more than the others. She pushed it in, her eyes closed. “Three hundred years may have passed since they prohibited methods of human reanimation, but when you’re floating in space without the law-makers, who’ll know?”

  Zachary glared at the blue haze developing under the dome. Small dots randomly grew into various shapes before wires snaked over them. Panels whooshed in to wrap around cogs. Clunking, with twisting coils, a skeletal frame hovered upward. Hundreds of components piled inwards until an android stood. A green tube was lowered down into an ejected rod attached to the android’s neck, then the rod was dragged inward. The android’s eyes glowed blue.

  “The Souls Programme,” rasped Bhavini as the footage stopped. “Each disc here is a collation of dozens that we’ve captured. Splicing them together we understand a bit more of Sokolov.”

  Zachary’s eyelids twitched. “Do they know they’re not real?”

  Bhavini’s tongue bulged inside her jaw. “They’re not supposed to. They have
self-mending skin filled with amino-acid creators, a working digestive system, and glimpses of memories that remind them of their past.”

  “But do they know?”

  “Some of the Soul androids have malfunctioned, and have self-harmed on realisation of their true nature.”

  “Sokolov’s playing God, but what in Europa is Carell doing with them? Dead people. Freezing. Bots. Ethan thought he was actually alive. He screamed when they drilled into him.” Zachary held his cringing face in his hands. “You can’t rip them apart just because they’re cogs and bolts.”

  “They’re copies of dead people, and once they realise, it’s better to end it.”

  “End it? Copies. So when Carell finds one, he just sucks out its RNA?”

  “He believes that he’s freeing them from serving the House.”

  “Who gave him permission to do that?”

  Bhavini snapped, “Who gave it to Sokolov?”

  Zachary ruffled his hair, confused as to who was worse: the General for creating the androids, or the ROM leader for destroying them.

  “But, just because they find out, can’t you do something to help them? Cogs or not, they have bits of someone inside them.”

  Bhavini thumped the dome. “Imagine finding out you’re not who you think you are. Your brain goes into overdrive. You start looking for the answer. Those androids go further. They start calculating reasons that defy logic. They go mad. We are doing them a favour by terminating them.” Exhaling, she spoke without letting her tone break. “My husband was with Carell in the Centurion. He was caught in the blast. They used my husband’s RNA to test the first lot of Souls. They’ve had him for the last nine years.”

  Zachary watched Bhavini slide down, head dropping to her knees.

  “The last we heard was that he’d escaped and was trying to find his way to me,” she sobbed. “An intercepted report, five days ago, recorded him as offline. He’d gone too far.”

  The android head that Shekhar had now made sense.

  “You were looking for him that day,” said Zachary, wondering if he should reveal the location of her husband.

  Bhavini nodded with tears in her eyes. “I knew it. You’re the boy from the camp.” She wiped her cheek. “What a small world we live in.”

  Chapter 23 - To Live

  Zachary sped along the corridor leading to the second lower level of the Ark, to the Medics Section. He caught sight of his reflection along a chrome pipe. Every one of the ten pockets lining his padded vest’s front was clipped down. Dressed in black now, he felt no different from the protesters.

  The walls along a downward ramp bore dark splats of red. A room twice the size of his home awaited him with grey-clothed people and a dozen beds behind translucent curtains.

  “Can I help you?” asked a woman.

  He knew he shouldn’t have gone there. Bhavini’s orders were that he meet her in the Dining Section after his shower and change of clothes.

  “I came to see the Underworlders,” said Zachary.

  She held her palm out. “Do you have clearance?”

  “I’m from Underworld too.”

  Her expression softened. “You’re younger than I thought. Beds three and four. Do not stress them. We’re not sure how long they’ll survive.”

  Zachary stumbled off the ramp, following the gesture of location.

  On one of the two adjacent beds lay Shekhar, eyes shut, on his front. Five fluid-filled tubes led from under his blanket to a glass cube with a pump, clearly connected to his chest from the synchronised breaths.

  On the other bed, Biro’s eyes opened. “You made it.” His cheeks sank inwards as if his spirit required freedom. “How far did you get?”

  Zachary sat down on the bed, watching the blanket twitch where Biro’s fingers moved underneath it. Complicated numbers and flashing symbols splurged across a nearby screen. “All the way to the streets of Assayer.”

  Biro wheezed. “Is it a sight to behold?”

  Zachary’s chin lowered. “It’s clean. Too clean. You wouldn’t like it.”

  A wheezed chuckle caused a beep from the screen.

  “Master – should I –”

  “No – it happens a lot.”

  Zachary couldn’t resist asking, “How did you get out? I heard the soldier shoot twice.”

  “Shekhar dodged the first, but not the second. Straight into his chest.” Biro’s eyelids fluttered. “Luck brought the protesters to us before the soldiers caned us.”

  Zachary put his palm lightly upon Biro’s shoulder. “I shouldn’t have left you. I should have stayed.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  Tears in his eyes, he looked up at the screen showcasing more numbers and bouncing lines. “Because you’re my Master. You let me become a scavenger, when nobody else believed in me.”

  “Consider yourself sacked from my employment. You’re free to do as you please.” A dry tongue touched Biro’s pale lips. “Did you find her?”

  “I did, but I lost her.”

  “Lost can always be found.” Biro moaned. “I feel tired.” A bouncing line, one out of the seven displayed, steadied to a wobbling flat-line. Veins on his forehead protruded. “You’ve made it so far. Keep going. A scavenger never gives up the hunt.”

  The curtain was moved by a woman carrying a tray. “I’m sorry, but I need to change his dressings. I must ask that you leave.”

  “Goodbye,” said Biro.

  Zachary nodded, wondering if Shekhar had heard them. “I’ll be back.”

  “Not without her.” Biro whimpered as the curtain drew shut.

  Gazing at a man limping with a deep gash behind his calf made Zachary think of how long it’d be before every person in the Ark ended up in the Medics Section. Overworld was not the free world that he’d imagined. It was the total opposite.

  * * *

  Zachary’s pulse quickened at the rush of footsteps coming from the main level in the Ark. He jumped aside from the protesters speeding across the exit.

  “Hey,” cried Bhavini, pushing out of the second passing wave. “We’ve been summoned to the Arcade. Everybody – come on.”

  “What’s happening?”

  “The future.”

  Taking his hand, she dragged him into a crowd. Going right, Zachary felt the heaving excitement of the Ark. Soon they reached a curved seating area overlooking a stage. After a minute, the commotion in the Arcade grew with at least two hundred protesters there. Five men on the stage separated to give space to the leader of the Ark. Cheers poured from the seats. Silence took its time to settle after Carell’s subtle wave.

  Removing a smug grin, the Ark’s leader spoke. “A great man once said, victory – victory at all costs, victory in spite of all terror, victory, however long and hard the road may be; for without victory, there is no survival.” Carell paused at the odd murmur. “Winston Churchill, 1940. Four hundred years on, and those words have not lost their meaning.”

  Carell tugged on his tunic sleeves. “It is with regret that I confirm that Galilei’s House of Representatives has purged Underworld’s Districts.”

  “Murderers,” shouted a voice from across the Arcade.

  “Yes – they are,” said Carell. “When the House has what it wants, it will bring a new reign of oppression. Please don’t get me wrong, you all know that I too want to achieve a landing on Europa. But, this way? No. The time is coming when Masim Sokolov will only have those that serve him left alive. How many of us have looked down upon Underworld? Dare we admit that even we considered ourselves superior?”

  Carell brought his hand back to his chest. “A boy from the darkness below our feet has outdone years of what our skilled have strived for. One boy. Think of what can be achieved if we all lived with the same burning passion inside us.”

  Unease tingled Zachary. He’d escaped because he had to, not for ROM.

  Three men pushed a large, wheeled screen onto the stage whilst the leader continued. “We have accessed intelligence files that de
tail the past and future actions of the House. Of Sokolov. Of Galilei. Finally, we have solid evidence. The time for change is now.”

  Clapping erupted throughout the Arcade.

  Hundreds of overlapping files lit up on the screen. One file ejected to the side and unfolded. Individual lines surged downward. From out of one line, a hatched image of dozens of buildings formed. The image tilted to show a specific section of Assayer. In the centre was the tall blade-like structure that Zachary had seen outside the mall.

  “Hadrian Tower contains the lock that prevents Galilei from communicating to the outside. Once inside, we can inform the Integrated Confederation of our suffering. Only then will the balance of power shift back to the people of Galilei. Only then will all our beloved who have perished be revenged.” Carell held both arms up. “We will strike and gut the lungs of the beast!”

  The seating shook amidst banging feet.

  “Sokolov’s army is thinned by the ranks occupying Underworld. There is no better time than now.”

  “Yes,” shouted someone below Zachary.

  “We will strike their barracks. Destroy their shield-core generators, and pin them back like they have done unto us,” snarled Carell. “Our time to rise is now. Tonight we will live.”

  Zachary shuddered at the increasing chants.

  Carell’s fist thumped the air. “Victory! Victory! Victory!”

  * * *

  Within thirty minutes, the Ark’s walkways became zones of assigned activity. Protesters piled guns along the walls with ammunition counts ringing out. Was this how the soldiers had prepared behind the Far-Wall this morning?

  A boy, ten years or younger, ran with a rifle balanced across his shoulder. Whatever the cause, that boy shouldn’t have been fighting. Why was nobody pulling him back?

  Zachary sidestepped bands of men. “Bhavini, this is madness.”

  Not looking up, she selected long-handled knives from an outspread blanket. “What do you mean? Isn’t this what you wanted? We’re going to Hadrian Tower.”