“Yeah, I think those are some of the vehicles headed to intercept us,” Drexil responded to my unspoken question.
“Any suggestions?” I asked.
“Away,” Rewan replied, “Let’s just keep walking until we’re far away from this particular village.”
. . .
We walked and walked until the Earth’s local star made it a quarter of the way through the sky. We spent the time discussing the local foliage, the odd signing, and most of all, curiously examining the random vehicles that passed us by. Without even peering inside at the machinery of the vehicles, it was safe to assume that they operated on a non-efficient oil-burning engine of some fashion.
We discussed such technologies, reinventing their engines in our shared mind. Each time we thought we had it operational, we realized we were missing some aspect or we were including a technology far beyond this particular race.
“The refined oil ignites in the controlled environment of a metal engine, exploding the two pistons up in opposing directions, which would turn a shaft attached to the wheels,” Rewan said, “The ignition of the oil would be done by a styrid filament attached-”
“They couldn’t have invented styrid filament yet and besides, two pistons moved by controlled oil explosions wouldn’t be enough to propel such massive vehicles at the speeds we are witnessing,” I replied, cutting her off, “At least not without a metal alloy that couldn’t exist in this era.”
“Technically, two pistons are the minimum. You could actually make the engine bigger and bigger, adding two more, four more, six more and so on. You could make the engine operate on twenty pistons if you wanted,” Rewan replied, “I was just throwing out a number.”
“And the ignition? What explodes the oil to keep the pistons moving?” I asked.
“Just forget it, you two!” Drexil interjected, “We’ll open one of these up later and get a firm answer to all our questions. Why are you so interested in these oil-burning technologies anyway?”
“Killing time, Drex,” Rewan replied, “What’s your problem anyway?”
“My problem is that we’ve got a lot more to talk about than just how primitive their vehicular propulsion systems are. Like, ‘who am I’ and ‘where do I live?’ These are questions that are sure to come and probably soon from the looks of that human up ahead,” Drexil replied, drawing our attention to the road ahead.
An elderly man was looking our way as he seemed intent on supporting an angled vehicle on his frail shoulders.
“Well, who am I and where do I live?” I asked, “That’s a fair question, Drexil, and I’m willing to put my name up for a vote.”
We continued toward the man and his yellow machine. The person was now looking quite frustrated as he kicked the tire of the vehicle.
“Cyan,” Rewan said, “The color of our sky when Alpha and Beta are near the horizon. I guess I’m just not used to such a pure blue as the sky here on Earth and I sort of miss the blue-green evening sky of our world.”
“So my name is a color?” I asked.
“Hey there, boy. Can I get a hand with this?” the man hollered as we approached, “I was plowin’ the back quarter when my tractor slid into this-here ditch.”
“I like Cyan. I can almost see the color in my own mind,” Drexil added.
“Sir?” I asked, not quite sure what he wanted me to do.
“Little help,” the man said, nudging his shoulder again into the vehicle as though he was trying to keep it from falling, “I’m stuck in the ditch. If we can get it out, I won’t have to get the mule.”
I got the gist of his request, and nodded quickly as I joined him in the ditch beneath the vehicle. I wanted to ask what a mule was, but I was fairly certain it was of no consequence and he’d probably state as much anyway.
“Rain did a number to back quarter of my corn field. This is the second time my tractor slid,” he said, kicking at the muddy hill beneath our feet.
“This is all the traction they offer on the tires of work vehicles?” I asked, patting the fairly smooth rubber.
He laughed, then shook his head.
“I know, I know,” he said with a chuckle, “Maisy’s been on me to get new tires for five years now, but when you can’t make end’s meet, tires just aren’t in the budget.”
I realized suddenly that I’d made a blunder or a joke, depending on how you looked at it. He took it as a joke apparently, so I just grinned and went along with it. It wasn’t hard to see what happened to his tractor and where he needed it to be, so I put my shoulder under one of the metal ridges at the back and pushed.
The man seemed intent on helping me at first, but as I dug my feet into the mud and pushed the tractor upward, he backed away. Since he was an elderly man, I figured at first that he just didn’t want to get hurt. Instead, he was watching me in a state of awe as I ignorantly performed an impossible task.
“What the…” he muttered, taking two steps back.
I continued to push the tractor up the small incline until it rested on flat ground. I realized by his words that I must have done something I shouldn’t have.
“A single person couldn’t move a tractor this size by himself,” Drexil inserted in my head, “Even with two people, there should have been some struggling involved.”
“Would ‘oops’ cover it?” I asked my fellow committee.
“I think we might need a little more than that,” Drexil said.
“Military,” Rewan said, “All forms of military have people who are tougher than the rest. We needed to answer the other question anyway. Cyan is our name and we are from some special branch of the military.”
“Good one,” I nodded.
“How in the world did you move that by yourself?” he asked even before I finished the thought conversation in my head.
“I… I used to have to move a lot of stuck vehicles in the military,” I said, “It happened all the time.”
He nodded, wiping his hands on his pants as he followed up the muddy incline.
“Army?” he asked.
“Yeah, I just got out,” I replied, figuring I didn’t need to offer anything he could check up on.
“Never seen anything like it,” he chuckled, “You moved The Beast like it was no big deal at all. Wish I had a farm hand like you around every time I’s in a pinch.”
I tried to make sense of his words, but I was too busy processing my own lies into my memory banks. So far, I had to remain a strong man who just got out of something called ‘Army’. What I could however make sense of was the fact that the man needed further help in some way.
“What do you need?” I asked.
“Need?” he asked.
“Sorry, it sounded like you… you needed me around more,” I said.
He laughed in that pleasant way that must have been ordinary for him. He took a small red cloth from his back pocket and wiped his forehead.
“I wish I could hire you on, my friend, but as I said before, I’m just trying to make end’s meet,” he said.
“We just need a place to stay, Steine,” Rewan said, “I think he’s saying he doesn’t have money to pay you.”
“And we definitely need to settle in somewhere,” Drexil added.
“Indeed,” I replied.
“I don’t have any need of payment,” I replied, “I just don’t have a place to stay.”
“Are you kidding, boy?” he asked.
I shook my head, then looked off toward the horizon wondering how I would explain my lack of a home or destination for that matter. His eyes squinted as he examined me for a moment.
“My parents are gone. They… they died while I was in the military. I guess I was going to just roam around until I found a job or a place to stay,” I said, hoping it would suffice.
He shook his head, then looked at his tractor.
“What’s your name, boy?” he asked.
“Cyan,” I replied.
“I wasn’t kidding about not having much money. If you’re looking for
-”
“I just need a place to stay,” I interrupted, “I’m willing to help out just for that.”
“And food, of course,” he added.
“Can we throw in another ‘oops’?” Drexil whispered in my head.
“We should pretend to need nourishment at least,” Rewan said.
“Yes, of course,” I replied, “Food and lodging is all I require. I’ll never require a single bit of money if you could assist me in that.”
He nodded, then motioned for me to follow him onto the tractor.
LEGACY
201 AfEl (After Elix)
“How can this be?” Febri asked, touching the watery container that contained a small rectangular processor on the desk in front of him.
“How can this not be?” Thrian replied, “Our brains are a computer in itself. The only difference is that we are 100% biological. The processor you are looking at is 28% biological and it’s a computer.”
Febri scowled as he looked at the wiry device floating in the yellow fluid. Febri may have been classified as a scientist, but he was first and foremost a surgeon. His life revolved around saving the lives of others. His life revolved around LIFE – not computer processors.
“She’s alive, Febri, and she’s completely conscious in every way you can define the term,” Thrian said.
“She’s dead! I watched her die on my operating table!” Febri replied.
“And you spent twenty harvests trying to find a cure for her. You spent twenty harvests talking to her and getting to know her. You spent twenty harvests learning to love her, Febri,” he replied, “So you know her better than anyone in this hospital. Ask her.”
“I’m not playing this game,” Febri said.
“It’s not a game. It’s reality. I scanned her two days before she died on your table. If you don’t believe me, and I know you don’t, ask her anything you want,” Thrian said, sliding the keyboard toward Febri, “Ask her anything that only she would know. She’s alive and she’s waiting.”
Febri shook his head, the scowl never leaving his face. He stared at the yellow liquid, wondering if anything Thrian stated could be true. Finally, he typed the question.
“What if I saved your life?” he watched his words appear on the viewing screen.
The reply came immediately “Is anyone else around?”
He stared at the screen, worried at the response that was printed before him.
“Yes,” he typed, “But I don’t care.”
“If you save me, I promise to be yours forever – no matter what that entails,” her words came.
“No matter what that entails,” he repeated aloud, “She said that in a seductive way which made me laugh.”
As much as he didn’t want to believe she was still alive inside the vat on the table, he found a bit of comfort in that concept. He pulled the keyboard closer.
“Where are you?” he typed.
“Here,” the words appeared with a short pause, “I was scanned by one of the assistants, then I came here.”
“Where is ‘here’?” he typed.
“Actually, I don’t know. I can’t open my eyes and everything seems very strange,” the words came, “It’s like I’m lying in a bed, but I’m paralyzed. I can see your questions though and I can think my replies.”
“You’re not typing on a keyboard?”
“I’m just thinking my replies.”
Febri gasped, then turned to Thrian in accusation.
“Where is she?” he demanded
“She’s inside the processor.”
“But where is she in her point of view? Is she paralyzed?” he asked.
“I… I never really thought of how she would view the world. I just wanted to see if I could scan a mind and insert it into a system,” he replied.
Febri leapt from his seat and lunged at Thrian’s throat. Thrian fell back from his seat, grasping at Febri’s forearms.
“She thinks it’s the same day you scanned her, you idiot,” Febri growled, clamping his hands around Thrian’s throat, “She thinks she’s still alive but she’s trapped in a stupid processor.”
“I’m working on it,” Thrian choked out, struggling against Febri’s grasp, “I… I intend t-to insert scanned people into IX units. This will give her all the senses of a regular person.”
“IX units? The robots that look like uplanders?” Febri asked, releasing Thrian from his grasp.
Thrian cleared his throat, then slid out from under his attacker.
“They only look like uplanders right now because they are planning something important. We can make the IX units look like ourselves if we wanted,” Thrian said, leaning against the wall.
Febri sat down against the other wall and wiped the tears from his face. It was in that moment that Thrian realized the true depth of Febri’s attachment to his patients. He immediately regretted his decision to include the surgeon in this portion of his experiment.
“I’m sorry, Febri,” Thrian said, “I will insert her into an IX unit the first chance I get. Unfortunately, I have to wait until after the Violation testing is done.”
Maisy
“I don’t think Maisy is too pleased with her husband’s decision to take us in,” Drexil said, “Or am I reading her expressions wrong?”
“No, I think you’re reading her correctly. She does keep glancing over at John as though he’s just lost his mind,” Rewan replied
Maisy welcomed me warmly as I followed her husband into the house, but that was before she learned the details of my visit. John, to his credit, introduced me as a war hero who had recently lost his family. I had yet another story about myself that I’d need to keep track of. I was now a hero.
John’s intentions were to probably allow me to stay in the house with his family, but after ten minutes of whispered disputing between them, I was offered a comfortable bed in the barn’s hayloft. I gladly accepted, of course, and responded with an abundance of appreciation.
He took me quickly to the barn to show me the room he was offering me, all the while apologizing for his wife’s behavior. I didn’t quite understand what he was apologizing for since he truly was still offering me a fully furnished room in the hayloft. The room was small, containing barely enough space for a bed, a window, a small electrical fan, two lamps, and a dresser with a tall mirror that startled me. I hadn’t actually seen myself in the flesh until the moment my reflection joined us in the room. For a human, I discovered that I was a fairly handsome man with extremely short brown hair, a strong square jaw, and broad shoulders that made my supernatural strength not seem so “supernatural.”
John turned the fan on, apologizing over and over again for the condition of the room, but I made sure he knew I appreciated it completely. That was when he invited my back to the house for dinner, and that was when I found myself at the dinner table listening to Drexil and Rewan evaluate the expression on Maisy’s face.
“Do you have any experience in farming, Cyan?” she asked, finally taking the seat directly in front of me, “Do they do any farming in the Army?”
“I studied horticulture for two years before pursuing my medical degree,” Rewan whispered in my head, “Too boring, but indeed I do know a bit about farming.”
“And I pursued Rewan while I was studying Law & Justice,” Drexil added.
The voices in my head were getting really distracting especially since I had no way to turn them off. I nodded as I took a bite of a dinner roll, pretending that I wasn’t replying because my mouth was full at the moment.
“You didn’t pursue me,” Rewan stated.
“Apparently you didn’t know about the hole I drilled into the cavern walls by the hot springs,” Drexil stated, “I was always watching you.”
“I never went to the hot springs because that’s where all the perverts gathered, like yourself for instance,” Rewan replied, “Nice try though.”
“PLEASE!” I screamed in my own head.
“Ma’am, we didn’t do any farming in th
e Army, but I did work for my uncle at his farm when I was a young man,” I replied, “And I offer whatever services are needed and I’m willing to learn whatever you’re willing to teach.”
“And are you willing to get up at four A.M.?” she asked, still giving me that frightening glare.
“Blazes! What is this woman’s problem?” Drexil muttered.
“I’m at the service of you and your husband, ma’am,” I replied with a shrug, “I’ll get up when you need me to get up and I’ll quit working when it’s time to quit.”
“Leave him alone, dear,” John inserted, winking at me, “Cyan helped me with my tractor when he probably had better things to do.”
She didn’t appear to even hear her husband’s voice as she forked one of the small round potatoes from her plate.
“I just never heard of any self-respecting man who would wear purple trousers, let alone a purple shirt,” she said, shoveling the potato into her mouth.
John laughed, then pointed to my shirt with his own fork.
“I never questioned another man on his clothing choices before, but I have to admit, I ain’t never seen that color shirt or trousers before in my life,” he said, chuckling, “Didn’t want to say nothing though.”
“Is this why everyone has been giving us the evil eye?” Rewan asked.
“Must be,” I replied, “How could we have known what the clothing styles on Violation would be.”
“Violation?” Rewan prodded.
“You know what I mean,” I replied, “The uplanders wore purple all the time though. As a matter of fact, this outfit was based on the clothing they actually wore.”
“And just how many years separate the uplanders from this primitive world? I’d guess a few hundred at least,” Drexil offered, “Better come up with a reply pretty soon though.”
“I just bought them on the base because I lost all my luggage,” I replied, trying to imagine a way I’d lose everything, “Everything I had was with me on the boat before it sunk.”
“Really, Steine?” Drexil laughed in my head.
“Boat? Were you in the Navy or in the Army?” Maisy asked.
The Mystic Saga Omnibus (Books 1 - 5) Page 29
