Emergence

by L. J. Suarez

  Sirah was one of the most respected philosophers of her time; some even claimed she was a modern prophet. Sirah was known by many names, but the one she was most often called was The Archivist—the bearer of ultimate knowledge.

  “Thank you, my fellow councilors, for joining me today,” Sirah began. “I have called this emergency meeting because we are in danger. As you are aware, our planet is becoming more uninhabitable as time progresses. Despite our best efforts to slow these climatic changes, it is still not enough. That is why we should push for more aggressive alterations to our population’s physiologies in order to counteract the effects of our environment and ensure the survival of our race.”

  “With all due respect, Archivist,” one of the council members interjected, “how much more aggressive can we be? Many of our people are being genetically altered against their will. Violence is spreading through our streets even as we speak. The resistance movement, who opposes what this council has been doing, continues to grow in numbers and gain sympathy within the local community. The majority of Monads still obey the law this council has implemented, but if we continue to push this initiative, we might face a revolution.” He turned to address the rest of the Council. “Our civilians are beginning to lose faith in our system. Surely we cannot have exhausted every option for dealing with these climate changes without having to further manipulate our genetics.”

  “Despite our best efforts, the damage done to this world is irreversible,” Sirah said coldly. “I and the other scientists sitting in this council have already confirmed this. All we can do now is delay the inevitable by further manipulating our genes. It is for our own good.” One by one, she looked into the eyes of every council member. “I know this council is young. It has only been a few years since I first formed it, replacing the old government that once ruled our society. It was the actions of the previous governing body that have placed us in this crisis. I have personally selected each and every one of you because you are the greatest minds in our society. We must continue to evolve. In order to do that, we must push the boundaries of our biology. In addition to genetic alterations, I propose that future generations be bred for specific roles to ensure we maintain order, and so that every Monad will be properly utilized to serve the greater good. Make no mistake, if we do not push forward, we will all perish.”

  “Do you propose we take away our people’s free will as well?” another council member spoke up.

  “In a manner of speaking, yes.”

  The council member who first spoke shook his head in disgust. “I cannot believe what I am hearing.”

  “I understand your concerns,” Sirah said. “but we must all take measures, no matter how extreme, to ensure our species’ survival. Our race still has much room for improvement. We cannot accomplish that by being cautious and allowing our people free will. I will not allow our people to return to the old, barbaric ways of our ancestors—not after all the progress we have made as a people across the eons.”

  “This is not the way to accomplish it,” the councilor stated emphatically.

  “I concur with The Archivist,” Gideron stepped in, speaking for the first time. “In order for us to reach the peak of perfection, we must continue to push our boundaries. We have advanced too far to take a step backwards. Our people cannot afford to stagnate—not during these desperate times.”

  The council member slowly stood up. “I am sorry, but I cannot be a part of this. It is indeed true that we have come a long way since the days of our ancestors. But what The Archivist is proposing teeters on madness. If we continue to force our will on our citizens, we will become the monsters that we so desperately wish to avoid becoming.” It was his turn to look into the eyes of all seven council members. “Am I the only one on this council appalled by what is transpiring here?”

  He was met with silence; they all looked at him as if he had grown a second head.

  Gideron smirked. “If you do not wish to partake in our crusade, then perhaps we were wrong to have selected you as a member of this council.”

  The council member turned to Gideron and looked him dead on. “Perhaps.”

  The council member began making his way out when a loud explosion destroyed the door, rocking the entire chamber. Smoke and debris filled the air. The shock from the explosion caused some of the council members to fall to the ground.

  Gideron remained in his seat, his ears ringing. He looked toward the door and saw that the council member who was leaving the chamber now lay on the floor, unconscious. As the dark smoke began to clear, several figures in what appeared to be tactical gear emerged into the chamber. Underneath their gear, they wore ragged garments covered with patches of dark stains. Gideron froze; the assailants were armed with automatic plasma rifles. They stopped in front of the assembled council.

  Sirah slowly rose from her central seat and stared down at what appeared to be the leader of the group. “What is the meaning of this?” she demanded. “Who are you?”

  “My name is Elrin, leader of the resistance. We are here because our people want freedom from the oppression placed upon us by this council. On behalf of all Monads, we are here to claim your head.” He raised his index finger and pointed it at Sirah.

  “How did you get past our security?” One of the council members barked.

  Elrin smirked. “We are resourceful.”

  “So this is a coup, then?” Sirah said in disbelief. “You think by using violence and barbarism you will be granted the so-called freedom you seek?” She shook her head. “You call yourself Monad? There is no place in our future for the likes of you.” She looked at the rest of the assailants. “You are all a disgrace to your people.”

  “Spare us your lectures, Archivist,” Elrin said. “Your reign of tyranny has come to an end.”

  “Tyranny.” Sirah balked at Elrin’s statement. “We are trying to better our society and secure our future. It is you and your band of so-called resistance that spreads fear and terror to our community. Not anymore. You will all be tried for your vicious acts—and be put to death.”

  Elrin pointed his rifle at Sirah. “Then you leave me no other choice but to disband this council.” A plasma bolt erupted from the rifle’s barrel, slicing through Sirah’s chest. Her crown flew off her head, and her arms flung through the air as she fell backward and hit the floor hard. The rest of the resistance opened fire on the other council members.

  Gideron ducked beneath the table, as did others. The rest did not react as quickly and were hit with projectile plasma bolts. More plasma fire flew over the table until Gideron heard their fire being drawn elsewhere. He cautiously lifted his head above the rim of the table and saw an Empyreum security drone opening fire at the assailants. The group was clearly no match for the drone: all the assailants dropped to the ground as, in a single swoop, the drone fired a barrage of plasma bolts.

  As quickly as it had started, the fighting had ceased. Gideron rose from beneath the table and spotted the sphere-shaped drone floating idly above the bodies of the dead. He made his way to the center of the room, where Elrin lay on the floor. Bodies of council members and resistance soldiers alike lay strewn about with grisly, exposed plasma wounds. Still on his back and losing blood, Elrin lifted his head and said to Gideron, “You will all…pay.” His head fell back the floor, and he slowly took his last breath.

  An Empyreum security detail entered the chamber. One of the guards approached Elrin’s body, his rifle still pointed. Satisfied he was no more, the guard turned to Gideron. “Are you all right, Councilor Gideron?”

  Gideron nodded nervously. “Are there any more resistance fighters in the building?”

  “These appear to be the only ones left,” the guard answered.

  “Good. Lock the building down and have a team of drones search for any more of these terrorists, just to be sure.” Gideron looked around at the bodies of his fallen councilors before turning back to the guard. “We have a few wounded here.”

  “The medical tea
m is already on its way.”

  More Empyreum guards entered the main chamber, rifles at the ready. Gideron walked over to the round table. Four of the slain council members were sprawled on the floor. Others started to cautiously emerge from underneath the table.

  Gideron rushed to Sirah, who lay on her back. He dropped to the ground and cradled her lifeless form. Her eyes were wide open, and there was a large gap at the center of her chest where the plasma bolt had passed through. He gently lifted Sirah’s Optic Goggles over her head and closed her eyelids.

  As the medical staff entered the chamber to attend to the wounded, the living council members stood dazed before Sirah’s body. “She is dead,” one of the council members announced in disbelief.

  Gideron rose to his feet and turned to a nearby medical staff member. “Bring a stasis pod!”

  The staff member gave Gideron a perplexed look.

  “Quickly!” he urged.

  “Right away,” the medical staff member said, and dashed out of the chamber.

  Gideron turned his attention to the council members who stared at him in equal puzzlement. “Hear this my fellow councilors, The Archivist’s death will not be the end of her rule. This cowardly act is in no way a victory for the resistance. In order to prevent a mass panic, we will not disclose to the public the details of what has transpired here today. We will simply state that The Archivist was injured in an attack by the resistance, and our best physicians are attending to her injuries. In the meantime, I appoint myself as acting council leader, and intend to carry out what The Archivist—” He paused to correct himself. “I will carry out what Sirah started. Mark my words: she will live on beyond our physical world. And her legacy will continue for generations to come.”

  Chapter Nine

  NORTHERN PLAINS, THE OUTLANDS

  YEAR 12039

  This was an important moment in Monad history.

  Only an hour ago, while Ionne stood inside an ancient colosseum in Sector 5 of the dig site, she had received a call on her Optic Implants. One of her team members she personally hand-picked, an archaeologist by the name of Lar, had asked her to join him at a recently uncovered ruin in Sector 4. The excavation site was divided into twelve sectors, each covering an area of over eight miles, and eight hundred scientists and researchers were stationed at the site.

  Ionne swiftly made her way to Sector 4 on her hover platform, where she met with Lar. When they reached the lower levels of the structure, Ionne had been shown actual human remains. They finally possessed real evidence that an advanced civilization predated Monads, and Ionne and her team were the first to find it.

  Since joining Project Extant nearly two years ago, Ionne had studied everything about the Homo sapiens, becoming something of an expert on the subject. Aside from obvious physical differences, she discovered that humans were not that dissimilar from Monads. Much like Monads, humans had superior mental development, power to articulate speech, and an upright stance.

  Ionne looked forward to learning more about the species from which her race had allegedly evolved. The public had not been made aware of the existence of the ancient city or of this expedition; Kieran had wanted to keep it that way, at least until they learned more about the species, and successfully brought one back to life using the Institute’s genesis pods. Ionne hadn’t realized how much she missed field work; her mother and Kieran were right: she was meant to be out here, where the adventure was.

  Members from the excavation team boarded anti-gravity capsules leading into a transport airship through a long-gated ramp. Ionne accompanied one of the scientists pushing an anti-gravity capsule that had just emerged from the ruin where the remains were discovered.

  Ionne stepped forward to examine one of the capsules in which lay a preserved set of human remains. The transport airship would be taking the remains back to the Science Institute in Empyreum. Ionne placed her hand on top of the capsule and closed her eyes as if in a meditative state. She remembered the words her father had told her on that fateful day: To truly understand the organic history of our planet, we must venture out here to its final resting place. To feel it, and hold it in our hands.

  She only wished her father was with her for this historic moment, which made her miss him even more.

  “Dr. Ionne, are you well?”

  She opened her eyes; Lar stood beside her. “Yes. My apologies, please proceed.”

  The Monad scientist continued to move the capsule up the ramp and onto the transport airship. A loud thunder echoed across the sky, and Ionne looked toward the horizon. A vast sandstorm had kicked up and was fast approaching.

  The transport pilot’s face materialized on Ionne’s Optic Implants. “Dr. Ionne, the sandstorm will be here any moment. Shall we remain here until it passes?”

  “No. You must get the remains out of here before the storm reaches us. I do not want to risk the transport being damaged with the capsules inside.”

  “What about you and your team?” the pilot asked.

  “Do not worry about us,” she said, raising her voice against the whirling wind and sand. “Take off at once.”

  The pilot hesitated. “Understood, Doctor.”

  His face vanished, and the ramp began to retract. The craft’s main engines came to life, and the transport lifted off the ground, kicking up dust and sand. It accelerated with incredible speed into the sky in the opposite direction of the advancing storm.

  The wind was blowing harder now, the storm nearly atop them. They had detected it earlier, and most of the excavation crews stationed at the dig site had already evacuated to a safer distance until the storm passed.

  Ionne and her team were the only ones left. She wanted to ensure the remains were safely transported out of the site before she evacuated, and her team had refused to leave her side. For that, she was eternally grateful.

  “We have to get to our transport at once,” yelled one of the scientists from Ionne’s team. “The storm will be here any moment.”

  Ionne turned to her team. “Let’s move.” She led the way to the transport parked on the other side of the structure. The wind’s velocity was fierce, picking up sand from the ground and pelting their faces.

  They entered the craft through its side entrance. Ionne and the rest of the team got themselves situated in the back compartment while one of the scientists hopped into the pilot’s seat. The holographic HUD display appeared in front of the pilot inside the cockpit and the ship’s ion engines rumbled to life. The deck beneath her vibrated as the small craft lifted off.

  As the transport gained altitude, Ionne noticed the small craft having trouble picking up speed against the raging wind. Outside, sand blasted the side windows from every direction, and visibility from the cockpit viewport was almost nonexistent. The transport suddenly dropped toward the surface before quickly regaining its altitude. Various alarms and warning lights started to blink on the craft’s control display.

  “What is happening?” Ionne called out to the pilot.

  “The left engine has taken in too much sand, causing an engine failure,” the pilot said. “But I will try to compensate.”

  With that, the craft dropped again. This time it banked to one side, then spun out of control. Ionne watched in terror from the forward viewport as they dropped back to the surface. A crash landing was imminent.

  Chapter Ten

  EMPYREUM

  YEAR 10027

  The team of Monad engineers were making final modifications to the quantum computer console.

  Acting Council Leader Gideron watched with trepidation from a catwalk leading to the central computer core. Located in the bowels of the palace, still under construction in the heart of Empyreum, this dimly-lit mainframe control room would come to house The Archivist’s consciousness.

  The palace’s quantum computer was the most powerful piece of technology Monads had ever constructed. Capable of making trillions of calculations per second, the computer would have the processing power of a Monad brain at t
he neural level—and it would certainly need it in order to hold The Archivist’s wisdom.

  The palace itself was initially conceived to store Monad historic records throughout the centuries, but now it would serve the additional purpose of storing Sirah’s technological form. Those historical records would be looked after by an assigned curator, who would also serve The Archivist’s commands at the palace. Once completed, the palace would tower above every building in Empyreum.

  The quantum computer console was stationed against a pillar wrapped around a transparent glass tube extending for miles toward the palace above. Sirah’s deceased body lay inside a levitating stasis pod next to the terminal where the engineers worked. The pod was linked directly to the quantum computer. It was believed that the Monad brain would have persistent activity after death once placed inside a stasis pod, and Gideron was about to put that theory to the test. Sirah had been placed inside the pod only minutes after her demise, preserving her body. They had clothed Sirah in an all-white ceremonial robe; Gideron now wore the golden leadership robe along with his own crown. Gideron hoped that, if successful, he and the engineers would be able to harvest Sirah’s consciousness, and upload it to the computer, thus surviving her body’s death in digital form.

  It had only been a few days since the resistance’s attack on the Inner Council building. The members of the Council knew about the operation Gideron and the engineers at the palace were carrying out, though the rest of the population remained in the dark about what truly occurred that day. All they were told was that The Archivist was seriously injured during the attack and was being treated by the top physicians in Empyreum. Gideron desperately believed this was their only chance for her legacy to live on, to ensure she would lead their people with her infinite wisdom for generations to come. Once Sirah’s consciousness was transferred to the computer, they would need to devise a new interface so all Monads on the planet could link directly to her. Right now, their Optic Goggles lacked the proper processing power needed to link every Monad to The Archivist through the quantum computer.