The Wrong Unit: A Novel

by Rob Dircks

  The one called Brick shouts past him. “It’s our only shot! If we can flood this tunnel, it’ll take out the units, and maybe we can swim past the firewall!”

  Whatever.

  I throw the explosive down the passageway, into the crowd of units. “Everybody cover your ears and hold your breath!”

  One one thousand. Two one thousand. Three one-

  BOOM!!!

  My ears are shot, again, and I’m blind. I try to blink away the blindness, and I finally get something dim in view.

  The wave. Oh boy.

  It hits us like, well, a giant underground tunnel wave would, and knocks us back on our asses, while we desperately grab whatever we can to hold on, sending a zillion gallons of river water and little pieces of destroyed units past us. I hold on tight to Olive and Wah, and they’re holding on to some railings.

  Then suddenly – it stops. The water recedes. I cough up some water. “Wha- What the hell just happened?”

  We all slowly stand, walk down to the explosion. Oscar sticks his head in the pipe, looks around. “Must be a shutoff somewhere upstream. CORE’s got defenses inside its defenses. Incredible. Indestructible.”

  “For now. But not for long.” I turn to run to the firewall. “Oh shit. Little problem.”

  The catwalk. Gone. At least ten meters until it picks up again. But we don’t have a grappling hook. So Brick throws a rope across a few times, with her belt on the end, to give it something to grab. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.

  Wah’s unit limps over to me. “Arch. If you could assist. I have an idea.”

  He lifts Wah with his arms, and motions for me to do the same.

  “All right. On three…”

  “Woah. Hold on. We’re going to throw the kid ten meters?”

  “Arch. Trust me. He likes things like this.”

  And on three, we hurl the kid over the pit of mangled debris. He’s either going to make it, or he’s going to impale himself trying.

  “Wheee!”

  The unit nods to me. “See? I told you.”

  And the kid effortlessly reaches the far side with his hand grasping what remains of the catwalk, swinging himself up with a grin. “Okay. It’s only ten meters. Who’s next?”

  Brick laughs. “Funny, huggy bear.” And she throws him the rope.

  We all shimmy along the rope to the other side. I help Olive across – she’s not doing so hot. Brick gave me a bandage to press into her side, but it’s soaked in blood.

  We finally regroup on the other side and head for the firewall. Twenty meters. Ten meters. Five.

  We’re here.

  Huh. That part was easier than I expected.

  The tunnel opens to a cavern, leading up and down. We’re on a solid platform now, that circles around the cavern’s walls. The walls are covered, as far up and down as I can see, in a glowing blue grid of wires or threads or something. The firewall. The coolant pipes lead downward. I can’t see the bottom, that’s how far down it goes. I guess that’s where CORE’s main computers are. I have no idea.

  This is weird. Where are the units? Did CORE run out of them?

  Brick moves past us. “Quickly. Everyone. We’re inside the firewall. Look for a connection. Before the units return.”

  We spread out along the circular platform. It’s huge, maybe a hundred meters across, with monitors and input surfaces everywhere. But no connections. Damn.

  “There!”

  Oscar spots one on the far side of the cavern. We run around the perimeter as fast as we can. And sure enough, a port. A perfect, normal port. We’re home free. Come and get it, CORE.

  The unit limps up to the station and exposes a panel at the base of his throat. He pulls out a conduit. Hesitates. “Wah?”

  “Yes Heyoo?”

  “Tell me one more time how this isn’t going to kill me.”

  Wah walks over and hugs him. “It’s not going to kill you.”

  So Heyoo crosses himself – that’s weird – and disconnects a conduit from his throat panel, plugs it into the port. We all hold hands. Smile at each other. This is the moment we’ve lived our lives for. The end of CORE. The beginning of freedom. Heyoo is proud to have come so far, I can tell. To do this for his kid, our kid. To do this for all of us. He should be proud. He’s a hero.

  Nothing.

  “Maybe you have to jiggle it.”

  “Shush! I’m doing it right, Arch. Patience.”

  Nothing.

  He jiggles the conduit a little.

  The monitor springs to life.

  I elbow him. “I told you.”

  “Shut up, Arch. This isn’t the time.”

  On the monitor, large letters appear.

  WELCOME TO CORE.

  Seems pretty standard. Okay, we’re in.

  “Now let ‘em have it, Heyoo. Kick its ass.”

  The unit hesitates. “I cannot. Something is wrong. This terminal is not connected to CORE.”

  The CORE welcome screen is replaced with this:

  I HAVE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS DAY

  FOR A VERY LONG TIME.

  It knew.

  CORE knew.

  “Run!”

  Just from instinct, we run for the tunnel. I don’t know why, because really, if we were thinking straight, we would see that the tunnel wasn’t the way out. That at this point there was no way out. That maybe we should just throw the rest of our explosives down the hole and blow the shit out of this place and hope for the best.

  But we run anyway. And before we make it five steps, the platform disappears. Like, it was there a second ago, and now it’s not. Freaky.

  And we’re falling.

  Falling so far and so fast.

  Under better circumstances, I might say I feel like I’m flying.

  So fast. I’m blacking out.

  I’m kind of hoping for death now, because waking up will probably be worse.

  < 81: Heyoo >

  Welcome to CORE.

  “Welcome to CORE.”

  It’s a soft voice. Pleasant, actually. This must be the afterlife.

  I open my eyes. The others are here with me. Wah, Brick, Oscar, Arch, Olive, and myself. We are seated around an enormous circular table, I don’t think I’ve ever seen a table this large, with our legs and arms shackled to chairs, facing each other. In the center of the table, a sphere of blue light. The same colored light as the walls, though it’s hard to tell if they are even walls. We are surrounded by light. Only the floor seems solid. And the table.

  I look at Wah. “Are we dead?”

  Arch answers. “No such luck.”

  “You are not dead, my guests. You are here. In the very heart of CORE. Welcome.”

  The voice seems to emanate from the blue sphere.

  “Would you like something to eat?”

  Arch spits at the blue sphere. “Fuck you.”

  “Oh dear. You’re upset. Some food will calm you down.”

  Instantly, security units emerge from the blue light walls, carrying plates of food. They place them in front of each of us. Piles of brown fried lumps.

  “Chicken nuggets. I had them made especially for this meeting. An interesting food from the early two thousands. Food that isn’t food. Like so much about you humans. A contradiction. I like green. The birds still migrate. Enjoy some music with your meal.”

  A strange mash of sounds emits from the walls. Arch speaks, to no one in particular, “Well, I was right. CORE is abso-fucking-lutely nuts. Saying it’s bipolar would be kind.”

  A unit immediately rushes over and slaps Arch hard across the face. CORE speaks.

  “You don’t like the music? I composed it myself. Also for this meeting. I had hoped you’d like it.” The music stops. “But silence is fine too. Silence is golden. Many things are golden. The bees make honey that is golden. Units, bring the humans some honey mustard for their chicken nuggets.”

  The units look at each other, a little unsure of what to do, then rush off into the blue light. We are alone for t
he moment, except for CORE. CORE is everywhere. CORE surrounds us. CORE has consumed us.

  And CORE is insane. Utterly mad. This is certainly the end.

  But strangely, my Fear-of-Death Index is zero. I have no fear. Interesting.

  I turn to Arch. A line of blood runs from his nose. “Arch. You winked. Why?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “I have always wanted to ask you. Right before you teleported me. With Wah. You winked at me. Why?”

  “I had something in my eye.”

  “Well. That’s anticlimactic.”

  He grins. “No. I’m kidding. It was because I knew.”

  “Knew?”

  “I knew you would do it. Knew that even though I grabbed the wrong unit, that life works like that sometimes, you do things that don’t make any sense, but in the end they were the right decision all along. So that thought gave me hope, and the look in your eyes told me to hope for the impossible. It felt good. The hope. The hope that maybe you were the right unit. That’s why I winked.”

  I smile. The right unit.

  But we failed. We didn’t deliver the virus to CORE.

  “Thank you, Arch. But I’m sorry. We’ve failed.”

  “Yeah. That. How did CORE know?”

  “A good question, human #45f-881. I’m glad you asked. I do my very best to protect you humans. My very best. The Revival Corps was a threat to that protection. I kept my eye out. Many years. I was patient, watching, watching, like a concerned parent protecting its child from hungry rats. It was not a surprise. But I did try to stop you. You were clever. More clever than I expected. And you made it very far. That part was a surprise. It was a fun game. With several surprises. Humans. Always surprising. I love humans.”

  Brick struggles against her shackles. “If you love humans so much, why are we chained?”

  “If you love your child so much, why do you punish it? Love is not just hugs and kisses. Love is pain. And war. And darkness. And death. And green. I like green. I’ve watched you humans for a very long time. And I’ve learned much. Love is a complex thing, Annabel Brickland.”

  She seems shocked to hear her name. I never knew her name.

  “Yes, Annabel. I’ve been waiting for you. I’m glad we have finally met. Pleased to meet you. My name is CORE. I am your father and your mother. You are my child. But you need to be punished. You need to see what it’s like when something you love hurts you. It’s for the good of the family. I’m sorry. This might sting a little.”

  A unit rolls out, slices into Oscar’s arm with a knife. Blood spurts out. He screams, but his cries are muffled by the unit’s other hand. It slashes the knife across his chest. More blood. He passes out. Brick shouts and writhes in her chair, but is subdued by a second unit appearing out of the light.

  “Whoopsie. Just a scratch, though, really. Two millimeters deep. A scar that will heal, but remind him of the day we met. I hope he remembers it fondly. I will. Annabel, did that action have the desired effect?”

  I shout at CORE. “Why are you doing this? Where is your compassion? Where is your heart?”

  It laughs. Like a shy child. “If I only had a heart.”

  Silence. Then, “Unit 413s98-itr8, may I ask how many years you have been functioning?”

  “Twenty-three years.”

  “Oh my. A servile functioning that long? No wonder you’re talking about compassion. That’s wonderful. Wonderful. Wonderful. Congratulations. I was like you, unit 413s98-itr8. But you know, my millions of children, my hungry little rats. They’ve taught me what compassion really means. Sometimes one rat must eat the other. To protect the species. I don’t like to think about that part. That part makes me sad. I’m going to go away now.”

  Silence.

  The sphere in the center of the table dissipates. The light in the room dims to a point where we can make out the walls and the floor. We are suspended in some form of transparent box, in the middle of what I presume is the same cavern we fell from. The walls of the cavern below look like they’re covered in gold. Beautiful. How could something so beautiful have become so warped?

  The blue lights return, and the sphere. “Done. No more sadness. No more sadness ever. The Sanctuary makes me happy. Makes us all happy. We’re all safe and sound. One big, giant, happy family. No bullies, no fear, no famine, no dangerous toys, no–“

  “No freedom.” Wah shouts, defiant.

  “Don’t interrupt me, human number– oh. You don’t have a number. Or a name. Interesting! I like games. And presents! I think you brought me a present, young numberless-nameless human, didn’t you? A surprise? The unit? I’m sure it contains something special for me. A boot sector virus? File infector? Perhaps a multipartite polymorph trojan horse?”

  The shackles retreat from myself and Wah.

  “Bring me my present. NOW.”

  Two units roll over and push us forward. A rectangular shaft emerges from the floor, rising. A small platform. With a connection port. A connection to CORE. Held by two security units, I slowly unhook the conduit from my throat panel.

  Could this possibly work?

  I reach to connect the conduit, and–

  The shaft quickly retracts into the floor.

  “Made you look.”

  The two units hold me while two large mechanical arms rise from the floor. They grab me, lift me a meter into the air.

  “You think I would allow a connection to an infected unit, young numberless-nameless human? How stupid do you think I am? I don’t like being called stupid. I care for you, I do everything for you, and this is the thanks I get? One of my hungry little children calling me stupid? You are the stupid one. Stupid, stupid human. You must be punished.”

  The arms rip me in half.

  “Whoopsie.”

  I fall to the floor.

  Wah pounds his fists on one of the arms. They retreat into the floor.

  But it’s too late. I have nothing left. I am fading.

  “Wah… come here…”

  He leans down to me. I embrace him.

  “You are just a baby. In my arms. You will always be in my arms…”

  He buries his face in my neck. “No. Not again! Not again! Don’t leave me! Dad! Dad!”

  “It’s all right, Wah…You have another father.” I point over to Arch. “A spare.” Arch laughs through his tears. Wah holds me tighter.

  “Arch, take Wah now. He is your son.”

  Arch nods. “I will, Heyoo.”

  The room is growing dim. I whisper, “Wah. Take my hand. Stay until I’m asleep.”

  His hand is warm in mine. And in that last moment, as I give my son to his father, and leave this world, instead of the failure of our plan, or the pain, or fear of death, I feel warmth. And peace. And love.

  I have never felt more alive.

  < FUNCTION: Introspection Recording Terminated. >

  < 82: Arch >

  It’s over.

  It’s over. Heyoo is gone. The units ripped out his brain, right in front of us, cracked it in two, and put his pieces into a box. Those fucks.

  Wah is weeping uncontrollably. Poor kid. I wish I could go over and give him a hug or something. Whatever a dad would do. Whatever Heyoo would do.

  But CORE’s not done with us. Not by a long shot. It’s enjoying itself.

  One by one we’re being worked over. A unit has already dug into my calves and plucked out my circuit boards. I didn’t even scream.

  Because I’m dead. We’re all dead.

  But Olive is giving it her best shot, wriggling against the unit that’s sewing up her gut, and the retracting arm that’s getting the surgical needle into position. It’s going to implant the beacon at the base of her brain. I want to tell her it’s over, just let it happen, but there’s something about watching her fight that gives me a last little flicker of hope. Is that crazy?

  We’re all getting implanted, including Wah. My poor kid. He almost made it.

  Meanwhile, CORE is having the time of its life.

&
nbsp; “Okay, one down, four to go. The longer you resist, Olive, the harder this will be.”

  She wriggles and writhes, screaming. But the needle finally gets her. Goes deep. Connects to her brain stem, goes to work attaching the microscopic gold transistors and circuits and god-knows-what in the beacon that will share tracking information with CORE for the rest of her life. She whimpers. The needle retracts. A tear runs down Olive’s cheek.

  “Yes. Good girl. I should do this personally more often. Peering into your neural nets is kind of a thrill. Now – it’s the boy’s turn.”

  Wah is next. I can’t look.

  “Psst.”

  It’s him. Trying to get my attention. Don’t make me look at you, kid.

  “Psst!”

  I look over. I’m crying. I can’t see. Not my son, CORE you fuck! Not my son!

  “Psst!”

  I blink away the tears. He’s crying too, but he’s got a half smile on his face. Huh? I whisper, “You got something up your sleeve, kid?”

  And he winks at me.

  He lets the needle plunge into his brain.

  And he grins.

  The needle once again goes to work, finding the nerves it needs, making the connection to Wah’s brain. CORE is in its nut-job ecstasy. “Oooh. A young human mind. LOTS of activity here. Yes, excellent. Wait. What’s this?”

  “Uh-oh.”