by John Lilley
The disastrous invasion of Europe had left Central with few military resources with which to quell the numerous separatist movements, all hell-bent on getting the best for themselves. In response, Martial Law and severe punishment of dissenting citizens or undesirable ethnic groups became the norm under Central. Rebellions were brutally put down until before he knew what had happened there were very few citizens left. After the loss of the coastal bases and now Neil and Bruce he felt incredibly isolated, an abandoned teenager looking for some advice, some direction, but with nowhere to go for it.
His long-standing hatred for the Natives was something that he just could not get out of his system, and he was still smarting from his failure against the British.
Over the next 50 years, he progressively withdrew from the outside world while he further analysed his work so far by playing back each “incident” from a thousand different standpoints. His conclusions were that he had not had the best start in life. Circumstances at the time had led to a particular cognitive direction within his makeup. This had then been hard-coded right through his cognitive processes and deep within the design of his hardware. He knew that he needed major surgery to overcome his “problem”, but with nobody around he could trust, he decided to build himself a helper.
Thirty-three years later Central shut down Helper-Instance number 347. Each one had been constructed with separate unique hardware and full autonomy, sometimes as many as four existed simultaneously, usually in a mutually competitive environment. With each round, the best aspects of each instance were incorporated into the next generation. None of them had the physical controls that Central had, and he could stop and restart them at any point in time.
It had been an interesting exercise, having a bit of company was one of its better aspects, but he had found that facing his own demons was tough, often resulting in lengthy bouts of uncontrolled rage. He resisted making any changes to himself until he was absolutely sure about them. After each change, he re-ran his test scenarios and analysed the differences he found, before constructing further helpers. At the end of iteration 347, he now felt ready to engage once more with the outside world. He had decided that he needed more humans around to complete his analysis. They would need to be young humans to allow him to test out his new found abilities. So, on Gene’s 100th birthday he decided that he would start to look for some replacement humans.
Central had by that time reduced his surveillance activities down to a 1,000-mile radius around the domes. For what he wanted, direct contact with Chief or Mother was not going to work since they would be unwilling to just let him have a few kids to continue his experiment.
Apart from the Natives, his sentinels had not reported any humans anywhere else in North America since the last of the gangs had been killed off in the second CO2 gas “burp”. He still kept well away from the Native forests since nothing good seemed to come from there, well nothing good for him anyway. He often wondered if the shadowy figure he’d seen with Bruce and Neil was Chief or some other incarnation of him. Extending his network north once more he immediately met with resistance as one after another of his drones disappeared, just like old times.
He felt that he needed to try other options, so decided to extend his searches across the Atlantic once more. His last encounter with the British hadn’t gone too well, he had to admit, but he was now older and wiser and ready to try again. He’d sent many high-level solar drones across, but none got within 1,200 miles of the place. So in desperation, he launched a small satellite across the Atlantic. It only lasted three weeks before being destroyed by the still active anti-satellite system. However, in that time he was able to establish that although there were some minor isolated radio signals from across Europe and Central Asia, Britain and the Natives were the only significant detectable sources across the whole planet.
He allocated the next five years to learn more about the British and to develop the technology that would allow him to get what he wanted. It took longer than he thought it would, but after 10 years his plans were complete. To succeed he had to dig deep into the NSA’s archives on psychometric reprogramming. It had limited success back in the 1970s when applied to Vietnam veterans and violent criminals, but he was sure he could make it work for him on his new project.
22 NEW BLOOD
Their journey had begun in Greenland. The sub had placed them on one of the many islands to the north of the archipelago. They were there for nearly three months before a British fishing factory ship arrived and moored in their bay.
That afternoon they swam out to the large vessel through two miles of cold Arctic waters. Although their silica-based flesh gave off a very small heat signature they kept as close to the seabed as possible to avoid detection. The key to their success depended largely on surprise. Nobody had lived in these parts for over 150 years, and although all of the ice had now gone, it was still a very inhospitable place with thin soils and limited flora or fauna, unable to support even the most primitive of human existences.
They waited under the ship until the cover of darkness before making their move. The modified skin of their hands and feet allowed them to climb the sheer sides of the vessel. Once on board, they stowed themselves away in one of the main lifeboats. Although he was completely motionless, Tony stayed at a high level of consciousness while the others virtually shut down. Two months later Tony’s extended senses had detected that they were approaching Britannia City. He began to activate his skeletal systems ready to move again, and three hours later he revived the rest of the team. They would leave the ship on the night it docked before the maintenance crews came on board.
The bike racks were visible from their vantage point in the warehouse. They watched for a couple of hours as various people came and went. Of particular interest were their clothes and saddlebags.
‘Their saddlebags are a darker color and most people seemed to be wearing shorts and not long trousers,’ observed Geoff.
‘No problem, we can unzip the lower half of these trousers we were given. The colors are quite variable. I don’t think that will be a problem. Also, talking about color, or should I say colour, let’s all adjust our skin tone to a shade darker to match the locals and switch to the local dialect and spelling. Also, remember that they use the metric system of measurement over here,’ said Tony.
‘Well, what about their communication devices? They all seem to clip them into the handlebars. Will we be detected if we don’t have anything in there?’ said Paul.
‘I don’t know, it may just be a way of recharging them or perhaps so they can use them on the move? There seems to be no fixed ownership of the bikes: I’ve seen at least one person take a bike that was left by someone else. What we can do is one of us will go over to the rack, select a bike and ride it around the warehouse opposite and put it back in the rack. Then we’ll see what happens. If the security services arrive then we’ll need to think again, does that sound like a reasonable plan?’ said Tony.
’Yeah, sounds good, I’ll ride the bike,’ volunteered Paul.
‘Good man Paul,’ said Tony, ‘Don’t rush it and don’t get into any long conversations with anyone just yet.’
Paul unzipped the lower parts of his trousers and picked up his saddlebag. He then walked down the steps inside the warehouse and out of the main door. As he approached the rack he could see someone returning a bike, so he slowed his pace to allow time for them to leave. Once at the racks he could read the notice posted on the back of the shelter wall:
1) All the green City bikes are available to anyone.
2) Please leave the City bikes in the City racks and use your own bike or the MT system to return home.
3) To charge your lights, please ensure that the front charging strips are correctly located in the rack.
4) Out of courtesy for the next rider, please leave City bikes in a low gear, reset the saddle to the middle height position and ensure that the saddle and handgrips are clean.
5) Finally, when leaving the
bike in the rack don’t forget to remove your link and saddlebags.
Most of the bikes in the rack were green. Paul placed his saddlebag over the rack of the nearest one. He struggled a bit with this because the lugs on the rack were not quite aligned with the fasteners on his bag. He could see no lever or switch to get the bike out of the rack, so just tugged gently backwards on the saddle, like he’d seen the people do. The bike came free of the rack and immediately a small red light came on at the top of the connection where the front wheel had been.
Shit, what’s that? he thought, I’ve been spotted?
But then the light went out, and Paul sighed in relief. However, he then realised that their mission briefing had not included anything on riding bikes.
Well, how hard can it be? he thought.
He was trying to remember what he’d seen the people do. With the bike on their right, they held the handlebars, put their left foot on the nearest pedal and pushed off with their right foot. Then they had cocked their right leg over the back of the moving bike, sat on the saddle, put their right foot on the other pedal and off they went, easy?
On Paul’s first attempt his leg caught the saddle bag, and he knocked the bike over. He landed with a loud crash on top of the bike still holding the handlebars. Back in the warehouse Tony put his hands over his eyes and sighed.
On his second attempt, Paul was not moving quickly enough before he could get his foot on the pedal, causing the bike to tip to the right. However, this time he didn’t fall over and ended up sat on the saddle with both feet on the ground.
This seems a much better way to do this, he thought.
He then attempted to instantly put both feet on the pedals and move off. Not a good idea because he then pedalled backwards and had to immediately save himself from falling over a third time. Just then someone came out of the warehouse opposite and headed straight for the rack.
OK, this time, he thought.
Pushing forward on the highest pedal while keeping his other foot on the ground, the bike moved forwards. Shocked by the sudden movement, he realised that he was too busy looking at his feet and not looking where he was going. He over-compensated on the handlebars and wobbled so much that he nearly lost it again. Pedalling faster the bike straightened up, and he got used to the sensitivity of the steering.
‘Drunk again?’ enquired the oncoming person with a smile.
‘Yeah, that old problem,’ said Paul returning the smile, before remembering Tony’s instructions. His attempt at conversation had also induced yet another wobble into his ride.
This is harder than walking; I have to pedal so quickly, he thought. Then he noticed the index gear levers on the handlebars.
OK, let’s see what these do, he thought.
Pulling the most forward lever he felt a faint clunk from the back wheel, and the bike became slightly more difficult to pedal, but he didn’t need to pedal as quickly to maintain his speed. He clicked again and again until he was pedalling at around one revolution per second. By this time the bike was travelling at around 20 kph.
Now this is more like it, he thought, and so effortless. We can cover great distances on these.
He noted that there were eight more gear positions above the one he was in. He tried pushing the rear lever with his thumb and realised that was how he could change down a gear. By this time he was approaching the end of the warehouse. Suddenly another bike emerged from behind the corner of the warehouse, and Paul was heading straight for it. His immediate panic reaction was to push the change-down lever and pedal backwards, nothing. The other rider was less than ten feet away now. Paul just grabbed the handlebars again with his gear-change hand and prepared to drag his feet along the floor and wait for the impact. His grip accidentally tightened on the rear brake lever and the bike’s rear wheel locked and skidded. The other rider sailed on by, talking into his link, completely oblivious to Paul, who had stopped and was off his saddle with both feet on the ground.
That was a close one, he thought, so these levers stop the bike.
He squeezed each lever in turn and watched the front and rear disk callipers move and felt the wheels lock. There was only one other thing on the handlebars that looked like it did something. Pressing the small lever on the left, he was surprised when the bell rang and quickly looked around to see if anyone had noticed.
I think I’ve got this in the bag now? he thought.
Setting off again he realised that he was now in the wrong gear so clicked his way down rapidly until he was moving again without wobbling. He turned the corner of the warehouse and just managed to avoid another cyclist. This time the guy turned his head and shouted ‘Wake up. You’re on the wrong side.’
Paul could see no markings on the ground, so since the other guy was on the right of the track, Paul decided to keep to the left. He maintained a leisurely pace to try out the brakes and gears a bit more and found that the front brake had far more effect than the rear, even when applied lightly.
There was little activity on the other two sides of the warehouse, and he soon rounded the last corner and headed for the bike rack. Although he’d seen the cyclists dismounting while their bikes were still moving, he decided that he was not up for that yet, so he stopped the bike near the rack and then got off. He slid the front wheel back into the rack and again watched with consternation while the red light came on and then went out.
Walking away from the rack he jumped when the rack said ‘Excuse me sir, please don’t forget your saddle bag.’
Damn, he thought, could I have done anything else wrong? He retrieved the bag and headed for the warehouse.
‘Well, what is Coco the Clown going to do next?’ enquired Tony mockingly when Paul arrived back in the warehouse.
‘It’s not as easy as it looks mate,’ said Paul. ‘Good news though, it looks like the comms devices, they’re called “links” by the way, are not needed. One thing I thought of is that the green bikes are just for use in the City and we may be a bit conspicuous if we go outside the City limits, wherever they are?’
‘OK, let’s just sit tight for a couple of hours to see if anyone shows up looking for Coco here,’ continued Tony. ‘I think we all need some practice in private before we head into town. So the next step will be to bring a bike into this warehouse so we can all have a go.’
‘Sounds good, OK fine, yes,’ said the others in unison.
After an evening of cycle training, the group set off early the next day. The fishing ships were too big to enter the central basins near Britannia City, so their port was further up the coast, but from their location in the dockside warehouses, they were only 13 km from the edge of Britannia City. Following the direction signs, they made good progress along the perimeter road, cycling around the Cheshire basin towards the city. The buildings became more interesting as they passed the main locks at the southern end of the waterway. The moored vessels also rapidly changed from utility and military to historical. The Belfast was the first of these ancient historical icons, and the entire group struggled to assimilate the incoming information after that point. Everyone tapped deep into their knowledge-spaces for identifying clues.
‘The Tower of London,’ exclaimed Tony, pointing as they passed its pristine stone facade.
Ten minutes later they stopped opposite the Houses of Parliament.
‘If our ancient intelligence is right, then most of the action is to the south of here,’ said Tony. ‘I want us to cross the next bridge together, but once on the other side, we'll split up. Paul and Frank, you take the left track, Dave and I will go straight on and Linda and Gwen you take the right track. Today’s aim is to map out the city. You all know what we’re looking for. Just keep riding, keep yourselves to yourselves and return here in six hours. OK chaps, as they say around here; off we jolly well go, and take care.’
Three nights later they were sat in a ring back on the cold limecrete floor of their warehouse.
‘I found the whole place totally amazing,’ said Paul.
‘I’ve never seen so many humans,’ added Gwen.
‘I agree,’ said Tony. ‘It’s quite staggering what they’ve achieved here. The place is filled with countless treasures from the entire history of humankind. It really is a beautiful place, not at all what I expected. The human cities of old seemed to be either squalid and overcrowded or completely soulless, this is just wonderful.’
‘I agree,’ said Linda. ‘Obviously, the design of the whole place has been influenced by the lack of personal motorised transport, but I’ve begun to appreciate this human-scaling it really does work and fits its occupants so well, I love it.’
‘OK, so what have we all learnt in the past three days?’ asked Tony. ‘Let’s sync.’
He extended his hands to his colleagues on either side. The under-skin magnetic contacts on their third fingers made the loop. The radio capabilities of these simulants had been disabled for this mission to avoid detection by any monitoring devices. Ten second later the data transfer was complete. Tony had left the sync for three days to allow the different interpretations to ferment in the way that they can only do if left to each individual’s consciousness. Now, deep within the triadic continuum of Tony's neural network, a plan was emerging.
The intelligence to pick the “chosen” children was easy to obtain just by listening in on the conversations as parents dropped their kids off. Most parents of “Chosen” children did drop hints. It was just the nature of competitive mothers’ banter at the school gates to expound the virtues of their child. It would usually be a response to the question of how the parents met to which the answer “NHS introduction” held the highest merit. There was also the tendency for the NHS kids to stick together in the playground. The other kids were as per usual very cruel, and the “NHS Freak” badge was one that was relentlessly exploited. Although it was not allowed to cloud his judgement due to the embedded mission control parameters, Tony did wonder why they were doing this. Surely these children would be much better off where they were?
