The Forever Peace

by Craig Robertson

  “The quickest way to find out which unit is most damaged is to ask him. Don’t you see? That’s why he’s holding both units in safe mode. If he allows the good unit to reboot and holds the defective one in safe mode, you wouldn’t be so perplexed. You’d simply see an irreparable computer and replace it. Whatever is in the unit will be lost.”

  “No, we’re getting too fanciful here. If one computer is unfixable, it’s unfixable. No matter what gyrations Jon goes through, the bad unit will not reboot, and it would be replaced,” replied a frustrated Toño.

  “Ah, that’s the key then. He wants you to enter the safe mode of the defective unit and repair it so it can reboot.”

  “I tried. It wouldn’t let me in to operate in safe mode.”

  “He wouldn’t let you in until you understood what he needed you to do. You know the old saying. Have you tried rebooting the system? Jon knew it would be the first thing you’d do, and he didn’t want that.”

  “I almost believe you, Kymee. So how can we communicate with him?”

  “The simplest way I know. One for yes and two for no.”

  “One what? Two whats?”

  “I have no idea. But he does.”

  “How do we ask?”

  “We ask a question we know the answer to before we ask it, and we ask until we receive the correct response.”

  “What question can we be certain we know the answer to? Do you love your wife, your kids?”

  “No, too broad. He’s had many of each. No, there’s only one question to ask Jon—one everyone who knows him knows the answer to.”

  “Kymee, before I die of suspense, what question?”

  “Would you like a beer?”

  Toño flushed. “No. What’s more, this is a completely inappropriate moment to ask. What is the question we must ask Jon?”

  “No, we ask him if he wants a beer.”

  It dawned on Toño slowly, but his smile reflected the brilliance of the light that just went off in his head. “I think I’ll let you ask.”

  “My pleasure.”

  Kymee popped off his lab stool and stood by Jon. He attached his probes.

  Toño did likewise.

  In his head, Kymee asked, Jon Ryan, would you like a beer?

  Both men stopped breathing and moving as they strained to glean a response. Nothing. Kymee repeated the question a few more times, with no discernible response.

  “Do the servo mechanical computers have pressure sensors?” Kymee whispered to Toño.

  “Yes,” he whispered back.

  Kymee tapped loudly on the metal table in Morse code: Would you like a beer?

  At first there was no response. Then a minuscule gear whirred to life. One finger on Jon’s only attached hand wiggled.

  The two men nearly collapsed.

  Kymee tapped out: Sorry, we’re out of beer. How about a glass of water?

  Slowly, two fingers wiggled.

  Kymee tapped: Wait, I found one. Do you still want a beer?

  The second digit fell limp.

  “You ask the next question, Toño. I don’t want to screw anything up.”

  Toño sounded out: Jon, Toño here. The computer in your head is number one. The computer in your chest is number two. Three fingers mean you don’t understand the question. Do you understand me?

  One finger twitched.

  Jon, the computer in your head is number two.

  Two fingers jerked to life.

  Jon, which computer is damaged?

  One finger twitched.

  Jon, do you want me to work in safe mode to repair the computer in your head.

  One finger wagged.

  Do you want me to simply reboot the computer in your head?

  Two fingers moved more exuberantly than any had before.

  Okay, here’s the plan. You reboot the computer in your chest. I will hold the one in your head in safe mode. Once the chest unit is functional, we’ll work on the head computer.

  One finger spun.

  Do you want to do the work on the unit in safe mode?

  Two fingers flip flopped.

  Do you want me to work on the unit in your head in safe mode?

  Jon held up his one thumb.

  “We have ourselves a plan,” cried out Toño.

  It took almost two hours, but finally, Toño backed out of the computer in Jon’s head having restored its operation without having to reboot it.

  Jon opened his eyes.

  “Can you hear me, Jon?” Toño nearly screamed.

  “Of course, Doc. Why wouldn’t I be able to hear you? At that volume, a dead man could hear you.”

  He tried to sit up, but rested back in failure.

  “Harder to do without a second leg or arm. Here.”

  Jon twisted his torso and could angle him to a sitting position.

  “Kymee,” Jon said nonchalantly, “nice to see you. How’ve you been?”

  “One of my knees is acting up. I may need to replace it, yet again.”

  “Sorry to hear that. Hey, was it you who mentioned something about a beer?”

  “Yes, it was.”

  Jon held up his only hand. “I got just the place for it.”

  “Jon,” yelled Toño, “you were nearly blown apart, you were nearly dead, and I was nearly insane with frustration. Is ‘where’s my beer’ all you can say?”

  “The key words there, Doc, are nearly. Let’s not focus too much on negatives.”

  “I think I’ll slip him back into safe mode,” said Toño with a frown.

  “Let me know if I can help,” responded Kymee with a huge smile.

  EIGHTEEN

  Toño was reattaching my leg when Kayla burst through the lab’s entrance. She left the floor three meters away and hit me around the neck and chest like an angry linebacker.

  Toño angled his back toward her to deflect a random strike to his work area. “Kayla, this is sensitive material and a delicate…” He stopped speaking when he turned his head.

  We were locked in a kiss, and neither of us were listening. There was a movie, The Princess Bride, years ago. I’m talking centuries ago. At the end, the narrator addressed the top five kisses of all time. I’m not saying ours would have bumped one off that list, but I wouldn’t have minded submitting it to the judges for their consideration.

  “Are you all right? You know, all right, all right?” she asked in a hushed tone.

  “Of course, I am. Of course, I am. Of course, I am, ma’am.”

  “God it’s great to hear you being such an insensitive ass. At least I know you’re A-Okay,” she said with a smile. Then we kissed again.

  “If you could release my patient, I’d like to finish attaching this leg before it becomes outmoded,” snarked Toño. But, he couldn’t hide that big smile of his own.

  “I’ll sit right here and hold his hand,” she said, sitting down.

  “You want to hold this one,” I held up the attached one, “or that one?” I pointed to my old arm on the counter.

  “It’s all the same to me,” she said.

  “Really?” I was kind of stunned.

  “No, not really.” She flicked the end of my nose. “But, gotcha,” she beamed as she took hold of the attached hand.

  Kayla watched Toño work for a while, then began chatting. “As soon as your parts are where they should be, I’ll bring the kids by. They’re anxious to see you, but I don’t think they’re ready for dismembered dad.”

  “Probably not. Hey, maybe I can get Toño to remove them for Halloween? I’d make great scary robot.”

  “Don’t even think about it. You’d also make a great scarecrow tied to a stick, and I wouldn’t have to waste hours on your costume,” Toño said, not looking up.

  “You’re no fun,” I replied.

  He didn’t bother responding.

  “So, you do feel okay?” Kayla asked again.

  “Yeah, believe it or not. I remember the explosion and hitting the roof, but that’s when I blacked out. I have to admi
t, it was kind of scary.”

  “Kind of scary. You’re too used to your charmed android life,” said Toño as he screwed pieces together.

  “Well at least it kept him alive, again,” said Kayla defensively.

  My woman protecting her man. Oh-ho-ho-ho.

  She stayed a while, but it became clear Toño was going to work nonstop fixing me, so she headed out to take care of the kids. Can’t say I blamed her. I was bored stiff.

  After an hour or so, Toño asked what I could tell had been puzzling him. “You went to extraordinary lengths to prevent me from simply rebooting your primary computers.” He angled his head and shook it gently. “I wouldn’t have thought what you did was even possible. Anyway…”

  “Why did I bother?” I finished his thought.

  “Precisely. You know you have a full back up each week. Yours was only four days old. What was the big deal?”

  I sighed a couple times. “Hard to explain.” I turned my head and looked to the heavens. “I don’t ever want to be a copy of my former self. For one thing, it creeps me out because I flash on Stuart Marshall.”

  “Amen,” mumbled Toño.

  “Plus, I want to be who I am. I don’t want to forget the feel of that monster’s spine splintering as I hit him. I’d just as soon lose the memory of those screaming kids. But I never want to forget the smell of that Berrillian’s brains boiling out the hole I burned in his head or the look on his face as he died. Never.”

  He was quiet for a while. “I guess I understand. Jon, I have to ask you a sensitive question as your physician and your oldest friend. Are you okay mentally?”

  “What? Are you kidding me?”

  “A man who relishes the feel of breaking bones and the smell of burning brains may have seen too much. Maybe he’s ready for a break.”

  “No,” I said resolutely. “I don’t relish, enjoy, or otherwise get my yayas off over those morbid, hateful memories. I want to remember them to help me continue. I need to help rid the universe of those horrors. Every recollection that helps me know I must kill them and just how badly they need killing is a useful tool. Nothing more. Nothing less.”

  “Ah. I guess that’s different.”

  “My doctor guesses there’s a difference between me being a fighting machine and a burned-out psycho. Great. Remind me to see you get a raise.”

  “Let’s leave it at this, Jon. I can accept your focused, driven worldview. Let’s just agree to keep a close eye on you to make certain you retain all the humanity you’ve always had.”

  “Thank, Toño. I don’t know if I’ve ever told you, but you’re a good egg.”

  “You have not. It’s a bit late in the game, but I appreciate your praise.”

  I held out my hand, and we shook.

  He worked another long silent spell. My leg was reattached, and he’d started reattaching my arm.

  “Hey, Toño, you want to hear something weird?” I finally asked.

  “Coming from you, that is a dangerous question. But, as we’re stuck here for a good long while, I guess I’ll bite.”

  “While I was out, I had a dream.”

  He stopped working and stared up at the unexpected news. His nose twitched a few times. “So, you began dreaming?”

  “No, I had a dream. Just one, but kind of a long one.”

  “Go on.”

  “When I was a kid, we spent summers at a campground by a lake in the hills above where we lived. Looking back on it, the place was standard. You know, log cabins, a convenience shop, and a small diner. But to me, it was magical. Big trees, fresh air, and squirrels—chipmunks too. Anyway, we stayed the same two weeks each year. From as early as I can remember, the same family stayed in the cabin next door for the same two weeks. It was a coincidence at first I guess, but then it became a tradition. They had a daughter—Jenna. Jenna was the same age as me. We spent every day together, catching bugs, chasing each other, but mostly we swam in the little lake. The water was freezing, murky, and god knows what floated in it, but for us, it was our private paradise.”

  I stopped a second.

  “Anyway, one year, when I was seven or eight, we arrived late. My dad packed the car same as always, but the old jalopy gave up the ghost halfway out of town. He had it towed to the garage. The parts had to be ordered, so we left for the campground three days late. I was fit to be tied and nagged my folks the entire trip. ‘Are we there yet? Are we there yet?’ What a pain I was.”

  “Was?” teased Toño.

  “Very funny. Anyway, my pop hadn’t fully stopped the car when I jumped out and ran straight to Jenna’s cabin. I knocked on the door. But you know what?”

  Toño shook his hand gently.

  “No one answered. I pounded. Nothing. I was confused, so I asked my parents why they didn’t answer the door. They said, of course, they didn’t know, but we’d just march over to Mr. Hestle’s cabin and find out what the heck was going on. Hestle was the ancient man who ran the campground. Looked like a groundhog on two legs, but that’s beside the point.”

  “Thank goodness,” mumbled Toño.

  “Hestle opened the door and immediately looked mad. He asked if my father would come in while I stayed outside with my mother. Dad looked confused, but he went in. Old man Hestle closed the door behind him. A minute later my dad came out on his own. He looked awful, scared or something. He sat me down on Hestle’s stoop and sat beside me. He was silent a few moments, then he told me Jenna had drowned in the lake the day before. Then he started crying. Mom joined in, and I was just confused—confused and scared.”

  I stopped talking again.

  “Jon, that’s a tragic story, and I’m sorry to hear it, but where is this going?”

  “So, while I was, you know, out of it these last few days, I had a dream. It was kind of a long one I think, but it was one dream. Hell, it’s been so long since I had one, maybe it was normal? Anyway, I dreamed I was at the lake with Jenna.”

  “You spent many summers with her there. I’m not Sigmund Feud, but the dream seems rather unremarkable aside from the fact that androids don’t dream in the first place.”

  “No, it was the summer she died. We spent time at the lake, swimming, gabbing, catching frogs, all the usual stuff. But it was the year she died.”

  “How could you know that? And, even if that was the content, it was a dream. They rarely make sense and certainly aren’t required to.”

  I shook my head hard. “No. This was different. It was like a memory.” I hesitated. “Or like I was there again, only it was now.”

  “Fascinating. Anything else?”

  “Yeah. It got freaky.”

  “It got freaky? It hasn’t sounded that way yet?”

  “We would swim and play, but we talked. I asked her what is was like to be dead. She smiled and said it felt like anything else, just a little different. I asked if she was scared or lonely. She said no, because she was with me. Then she said, ‘Jon, everyone dies. Someday even you will. It’s not a great big deal. Death is kind of like life; it’s just forever.’”

  “That’s it? She spoke like a mystic and the dream was over?”

  “No, then she asked if I wanted a frog sandwich made from the frog she held up in her hands. I said no and shoved her into the water. She dropped the frog. Then she said she’d show me hers if I showed her mine.”

  “Her what? Your what?”

  “Doc, weren’t you ever alone with a girl when you were a kid?”

  He looked embarrassed, then blurted back, “I guess not. I have no idea what you’re talking about. What’s more, I don’t want to know either. If you don’t shut up, I’ll switch your audio off so I can finish these repairs this decade.”

  Son of a gun hunkered down and worked in silence for a good thirty minutes.

  That was fine by me. I couldn’t stop thinking about Jenna.

  NINETEEN

  Tense weeks turned into dull months after the Berrillian assault on Exeter. There were no further attacks and little communi
cation chatter on their side. Our project to map the Berrillian Empire wrapped up during that quiet period. It turned out their control was large, but not terrifyingly so. They had iron-fisted control over hundreds of systems, but their sphere of influence was on par with the Listhelons. I did follow up on their attempt to assimilate Zark, the planet I’d investigated. With Alliance space support repelling any resupply or troop inflows, the spunky Zark were holding their own. The outcome was far from clear, but they had a fighting chance. That we could frustrate the Berrillians so easily put a smile on my face whenever I thought about it.

  What was becoming clear was that our enemy was trying to win against us via subterfuge and guerrilla tactics. They were willing to avoid all military actions in space, fleet to fleet. It must have galled Erratarus to no end to have to chip away at a foe as opposed to bashing armies with them. History showed, however, that guerrilla warfare was effective. While it rarely led to an outright victory, its psychological drag on the recipients were costly. The low intensity but constant vigilance needed to fight against guerrilla warfare often produced a damaging totalitarian drift that damaged its victims. That aspect was sobering, and. more political tension we didn't need.

  As time passed, I began to wonder where I could help the most. It slowly dawned on me. Azsuram was a prime target for the Berrillians. They’d attacked it before, and they were defeated there. That had to stick in their craw. Also, the population of the planet was quite sparse, so conquest would be easy. Sure, there was little to gain from a military or materials standpoint, but as a forward base of operations, it would be a great asset. In fact, I realized, there had to be paws-on-the-ground Berrillian infiltrators there already. Hell, if they tried to sneak them on LH 16a where they totally stood out, why not Azsuram, where they’d be invisible in the lush tropics that were full of game?

  That’s when another tiny bell went off in my head. LH 16a. It still bothered me, that interaction with Gortantor. His actions suggested he had some understanding or affiliation with the Berrillians. I knew there was no such thing as a Berrillian ally, but Gortantor probably didn’t know that. I continued to think of how a working relationship between those two species could hurt us. I wanted to figure out if there was some way to exploit their friendly status to the Alliance’s advantage. I had a lot of balls in the air, and every one I dropped would likely cost a lot of lives.