by J. S. Morin
Anticipation? Anxiety? Difficult to tell. Female reactions unreliable.
“Fine,” Alex said dismissively. “I’m off the menu on every social calendar for the next two months. After that, I’ll have to make up some new excuse.”
Gerry breezed in from the kitchen carrying a sealed plastic crate. “Why not just clear further ahead?” he asked on the way by.
Second-guessing. Insubordinate. Reminder that my position is tenuous.
“Because I’ve got better things to do than spend all day on the Social changing plans with every robot I know,” Alex snapped. Of all his father’s lessons, the one he most wished he could unlearn was the currying of favors for possible future use. His schedule wouldn’t be so cluttered if he just ignored his robotic colleagues.
Footsteps pounded up the stairs from below. Irene panted for breath before reporting in, finally providing an island of competence amid the sea of nagging and flippant advice. “I’ve got the food acceptance system hooked into the bio recycler. It’ll look like you’re eating the food that comes here.”
“Digestive ratio?” Alex prompted.
“I programmed it to vary from 65 to 87 percent,” Irene stated confidently. That sounded reasonable, though Alex had little use for the wet sciences. He’d trust that she’d chosen a range that wouldn’t raise suspicions if analyzed.
Alex rubbed his hands together. It was all coming together. He’d programmed the power usage himself. The house would simulate daily living by matching the ebb and flow of Alex’s typical activities.
“Automatons are ready too,” Stephen reported. “They’ll respond adaptively to the power usage to make it look like they’re helping with whatever mirage-you is up to.”
This was all coming together. “Are the skyroamers ready?” He hated being at someone else’s mercy for transportation, but for this plan to work, he couldn’t let his own personal skyroamer out of the hangar.
“You’re flying with me,” Leslie said matter-of-factly.
Possessive. Alpha female. Irritation.
One of these days, Alex was going to have to decide whether to indulge his reproductive urges or risk losing her as an ally. Her fixation was understandable but highly counterproductive.
“Fine,” Alex said brusquely. “But let’s get a move on. The longer we linger here, the greater the chance someone disrupts the ecosystem we’ve set in motion.”
Lie to mask impatience. Will anyone challenge? No. Compliance.
Everyone murmured their assent, and the group headed for the skyroamers.
Alex liked compliance.
Chapter Seventeen
It wasn’t quite the same sitting at Quelle Suprise without her friends, but Abby sipped at a chai tea latte and waited. There was a brisk chill in the air, and one of Rosa’s hand-knit shawls helped keep the breeze at bay.
She could have waited inside. The quaint, retro interior held a certain time-capsule charm. However, since Abby was trying to make a good impression on her aunt, braving the outdoors was a small price to pay.
There was no warning whine of skyroamer engines to herald Olivia’s arrival. When a hand rested on Abby’s shoulder, she jumped in her seat, spilling her drink with a startled yelp.
“Wow,” Olivia said as she slipped into the seat across the table. “Not a lot to work with. You’re more skittish than a doe.”
Abby wiped the front of her dress with a napkin. “I didn’t hear you coming. I figured a skyroamer and a cloud of dust would be plenty of warning.”
“I hiked over from Phoebe’s place,” Olivia explained as she tapped a beverage order into the concealed console in the table. “Hadn’t seen her in months.”
“You mean while I waited two hours for you to get here, I could have just met you at Phoebe’s place?” Abby asked through a scowl.
“No,” Olivia explained patiently. “If I’d wanted to meet you there, I would have said so. I don’t like crowds.”
Only Aunt Olivia considered three people to be a crowd.
“Well, I assume you’ve come with a plan to take me to one of the restricted areas.”
Olivia looked Abby up and down. “Not dressed like that.”
Abby studied her own attire. She wore a sundress and sandals. Not exactly spelunking gear. “I assumed I’d head home to change once I knew the climate we were heading for.”
Olivia set her jaw. There was little argument on the subject. Of the twenty-three designated zones that were off limits to unauthorized personnel, climate and hazards varied wildly. “OK. Let’s settle on a locale then and get on with it.”
An automaton waiter delivered black coffee, which Olivia scooped up and tilted back in one smooth motion. She winced as she gulped the steaming liquid.
Inwardly, Abby sighed. There was just something about being raised in a mad robot’s laboratory that toughened a girl in ways no parent would ever sanction. Abby had been coddled, pampered, and indulged her whole life. While she would never envy the original Eves their horror-movie childhoods, Abby often wished she’d somehow turn out like them anyway.
Olivia gasped as she set the empty cup on the table. “So, little missy, where you want to go? I’m thinking a few days hiking the Outback, getting in touch with your hunter gatherer roots, might warm that tree sap in your creative veins.”
Abby blinked. “Project Hammond? How about we don’t go camping in dinosaur country?”
Olivia rolled her eyes. “They’re not really dinosaurs. They’re just Elizabeth56’s best guess. More birds with reptile DNA than anything authentic.” She grinned. “But I’d still love to see them up close.”
“Wait. You haven’t? I assumed you’ve been everywhere.”
“Restricted areas are restricted,” Olivia said. “I don’t tinkle in the Transportation Committee’s fuel cells.”
“So you were willing to take me into a bleak wilderness filled with dinosaurs—”
“Dinosaur-esque creatures.”
“Whatever,” Abby snapped. “Without ever having been there yourself?”
Olivia sighed and crossed her forearms on the table. “Look, I get it. You were hoping for the safari version. All the jungle and savanna from the comforts of an animal-proof jeep, with a guide who’s lived there her whole life. Newsfeed update: there’s no such thing. If you want to tour restricted areas, you’ve got two options. One: I go as your guide. Two: you try to convince the Transportation Committee to let Charlie7 or Plato take you. They’re the only two fools with the free time and lack of self-preservation to guide you.”
“I hardly think Charlie7 is lacking self-preservation,” Abby pointed out.
“Well, he’s also not getting released from surveillance and trusted in a restricted area.”
“Maybe my dad…”
Olivia pinched the bridge of her nose. “Yeah. Drag poor Plato out into dino country. You’d both be kibble.”
Abby pursed her lips but couldn’t argue the point. Dad had been on the decline for years. He meant well, and if she asked, he’d almost certainly agree to escort her. That meant it was incumbent on Abby never to ask him. Her conscience wasn’t built to handle that kind of guilt.
“What about Mars?” Abby blurted. Unless there was a geneticist who’d not only created life on Mars but taught it how to live without a breathable atmosphere, there would be no wildlife to worry about. “There hasn’t been a human on Mars since the First Human Era.”
“Good reason for that,” Olivia replied. “No one wants to go.”
“But you’re an adventurer,” Abby pointed out. “We could get someone to make a habitable spaceroamer. Or maybe refit a mining vessel.”
“Actually, good point,” Olivia said. “There were humans on Mars. Dale2’s hybrid army. Pass.”
Abby scowled. “You’re afraid of space travel. Aren’t you?”
Olivia’s silence cooled Abby’s latte. “You want to go to Mars? Fine. But you’re on your own.” The metal legs of Olivia’s chair scraped against the ground as she stood
.
Abby lunged for her aunt and caught her by the sleeve of her jacket. “No! I’ll pick someplace else. There must be someplace that’s both exciting and free of human-eating monsters.”
Olivia tugged free of Abby’s grasp and shoved her hands in her pockets. “I’ll take you anywhere on Earth.”
Abby’s mind whirled. So many options. She’d been hoping to lean on Olivia’s expertise to select a destination but didn’t dare dodge making a decision of her own. Olivia might just give up on her rather than pick Abby’s adventure.
“The city.”
“Which one?” Olivia asked wearily. “Pompeii? Chernobyl…?”
“Atlantis,” Abby said firmly. Though unofficial, it was the name that had stuck for the alien dome beneath the Baltic Sea.
“Not exactly getting in touch with your cultural roots, is it?” Olivia said with a smirk.
“How is it not?” Abby countered. “What’s one subject that no one from the Human Era ever wrote about?”
“No such thing. Ten billion people managed to address every topic just through sheer numbers and boredom.”
“Wrong. Extinction. Sure, some guessed, but no one covered the event itself. I want to taste for myself the city of the things that killed our ancestors.”
Olivia bit her lip and frowned. It was like watching Mom think. Abby did it too. Some hard-coded bit of brain tissue linked decision-making and lip-biting in the Madison line of clones. She took it as a sign that Olivia was giving the matter due consideration.
“Fine. I’ll bounce it off the Transportation Committee to make sure—that was probably the last place they expected you to pick—but I imagine they’ll agree. Go home and get packed.”
“What should I wear to explore an alien city?”
“Hiking boots and a portable air supply,” Olivia stated. “I’ll take care of the rest.”
Chapter Eighteen
A thousand kilometers away, beneath the floor of the Baltic Sea, an expedition of a different sort was already underway.
Dust from the drilling drone clogged the tunnel and appeared as a fog in the glow lamps the explorers carried. Alex watched through goggles, breathed through a filter, and felt through the fabric of gloves. It was almost as if he weren’t there in person at all.
If not for the presence of other humans, reacting and interacting all around him, he might as well have been handling the excavation by remote.
“How much farther do we have to drill?” Gerry asked. His voice came out muffled, echoing inside his breather before being transmitted on weak-signal radio that wouldn’t penetrate the rock above them.
Alex referenced his portable computer. “Another ten meters and we break through.”
One of the humanoid automatons that’d been toiling on this job for months came by with a wheelbarrow to haul away another load of the rubble. The humans all made way for it. They were merely biding time until the drone workforce finished. Real labor was needed, and none of them begrudged the machines the job.
“Should we slow down?” Xander asked. “What if they have acoustic sensors? Seismographs?”
Alex grinned behind his mask. “That’s the irony, isn’t it? They don’t. If you believe my father’s version of the events between the fall of mankind and the rise of robots, the alien invaders couldn’t tell resistance forces were tunneling up right beneath them. That same blind spot is going to get us inside the city undetected.”
“How do you know?” Gerry chimed in. “What if they catch us down here?”
“Do you remember who I am?” Alex demanded. At times it felt like they didn’t. With a quick punch of a few commands, the automatons paused in gathering the rubble. The drill ground to a halt. Alex tore the mask from his face to let them hear this from his own voice, not some digital broadcast from a meter away. “You think these robots are a threat to us? I made them. They’re my creations, and if you think I’m scared of them finding out what we’re doing, you can crawl back home and play lab assistant to someone who has the vision and drive to make real scientific breakthroughs.”
Wendy sneered. “I think you’re confusing being a clone of Charles Truman with having actually been Dr. Truman.”
Leslie snatched the mask from Alex’s hand and shoved it in his face. “Put that back on! The air down here isn’t safe.”
“Safe. Safe…” Alex muttered, shaking his head despite it making it harder to fit the mask back over his face. “That’s all everyone harps on. Did you know that life wasn’t safe in the Human Era? People got cancer and died. They got hit by ground vehicles. They murdered one another in fits of anger.”
Dr. Toby had been lurking along the carved tunnel walls this whole time. Now, he spoke up. “All true, sadly. But there were ten billion people. There was a margin of error for—”
“For greatness,” Alex interrupted.
Ganging up. Need to drive narrative.
“You tell me there were ten billion people, but I’ll counter that when you boiled the fat from the bone, there were only thirty-three that mattered. Why? Because they had the vision. They had the drive. I’ve read the project files. The news feeds of the day. There were death threats. Synaptically challenged crusaders accused them of playing God. Any of them could have saved themselves the hassle and just gotten a cushy university post. Taught undergrads. The greats take the risk.”
“But there aren’t ten billion spare humans anymore,” Wendy pointed out. “We’re worth more.”
“We’re worthless,” Alex snapped. “We are worth the sum of our accomplishments. None of us has done a damn thing.”
“Yet,” Gerry added. “Our value includes our potential future successes.”
Alex stabbed a finger at him. “Aha! Exactly. We’re only worth the things we will do. We’re taking out an IOU against future greatness. We dare because we will wrest the secrets from the closed fist of the universe. And anyone who stands in our way will be judged by history.”
“Big gamble, if they catch us,” Gerry pointed out, idly poking at the rubble with one booted toe.
“Gamble?” Alex echoed.
Use his own word. Turn its meaning. Come up with gambling metaphor.
“I was born with aces up my sleeves. I have the genes of the greatest scientist mankind ever birthed. I was raised by the robot who holds that man’s memories and a thousand years’ experience on top of that. I’m not just the heir to Charles Truman, I’m Charles Truman reincarnated.”
Skepticism. Disbelief. Alienation. Attempt inclusion.
“All of us are gods reborn,” Alex rambled on. “Handpicked from the finest genomes the Human Era left behind. Pruned like bonsai trees of any imperfections. Raised with the weight of an entire civilization’s resources behind our education. We will shape this planet not with our bare hands but with our minds.”
“How ‘bout you turn the drones back on and get this over with?” Wendy suggested dryly.
Chuckles. Tension broken. Do they see themselves as newborn gods? Too early to tell.
“Sure,” Alex agreed amiably. With a flourish, he reengaged the drilling and hauling.
Machinery rumbled to life. It wouldn’t be long before they were inside the alien city.
Chapter Nineteen
Less than two kilometers away, in a far older tunnel, two women who could have been mistaken for sisters stood before a giant airlock. The younger one hung back with her fists clenched at her sides while the older one accessed a console, tapping in a passcode supplied by the Transportation Committee. Both wore padded protective suits as a precaution. In the sixteen years since the revelation of the alien fabric’s existence, it had been replicated but never properly explained.
“You ready?” Olivia asked, sounding a little nasal. The air in the alien city had been deemed non-toxic, but that didn’t mean the air quality was sustainable for human exploration. Both Olivia and Abby wore oxygen tubes that ran over both ears and under their noses, with a spigot supplying clean air directly into their nostrils
.
Abby swallowed, then gave a nod. “Do it.”
With a final command from Olivia, the gateway to the undersea alien dome opened. Bathed in eldritch light, the city spread before Abby’s disbelieving eyes like a wonderland of imaginary structures.
She stepped forward, mouth agape. Pictures and computer models were no substitute for the rising dome she entered. A thousand years had passed since cephaloid creatures had massacred humanity—including the very woman Abby herself had been cloned from. And yet, Abby could imagine one of the creatures rounding a corner from a side street.
If anything in this place could be called a street.
The domed city resembled a snow globe version of a habitat. The buildings all stood there as if posed for a picture. There was no sign of the purpose behind any of them. Twisting spires and trough-like walkways hinted at how the inhabitants might have traveled around it, but as to function, Abby was completely at a loss.
“Kinda something, huh?” Olivia observed.
Abby had nearly forgotten her aunt was there at all. “They were here. They walked where we’re standing now.”
“Slithered, more likely.”
“Right. Of course.” It was a struggle to remember that the inhabitants of this structure had been both intelligent, independent creatures and, at the same time, utterly unlike any human or robot of Earth. It was all too easy to fall into the trap of thinking that any intellect would result in human-like thinking. “I wonder why they came.”
Olivia grunted. “Who cares? Plenty of robots bitch about Charlie7, but he got rid of the things that built this place and exterminated our species. I think if everyone got a tour of this place, maybe more robots would forgive him.”
An idea flashed in Abby’s mind. That was it. That was Abby’s project. She needed to convey this place in a way that no existing medium had. There was no way the Transportation Committee would open the gates and turn the cephaloid city into an amusement park. But if Abby could bring it to life in the robotic and human zeitgeist of thirty-second century Earth, maybe Charlie7 would look less the villain.
