Skyler Grant Anthology

by Skyler Grant

  My stomach churned. When I thought the Earth’s surface had found no more ways to horrify me, it kept bringing up new monstrosities.

  "Oh, I don't just eat people," Anton said, with an airy wave of one hand. "I do make allowances for those with less refined palettes. Besides, the entertainment is where things truly get interesting. Do you know I actually managed to assemble something of an orchestra?"

  "Another time, perhaps. I'm eager to see if what you've provided works," I said.

  "She means to kill me, you know," Anton stage-whispered to Diva.

  "We all plan to kill you, Anton. Just like you plan to have us in one of your cages one of these days," Masque said with a false smile.

  "Guilty," Anton said, with a tilt of his head. "I do so love toying with my prey first. Do stay interesting and useful won't you?"

  "Always," Masque said, as she tucked the box away.

  We were allowed to leave, although I was keenly aware of every pair of eyes on me as we left that place. Even when we were back in the armored truck I felt a bit like when I knew I was a sniper’s sights on a battlefield.

  "I'm going to kill that man," I said.

  "We've all had the thought, and people better-armed than us have tried. He truly is a most exceptional sort of monster. You can't tell it from looking, but he’s over a century old," Masque said.

  I'd have placed him as somewhere in his thirties. Life-extending technology was rare among most corporations. While everybody wanted it, the next generation also wanted their place at the table and didn’t like to be kept waiting. At some point, living in luxury during the time you had became the standard, instead of attempting to live longer.

  "I'll find a way. But not today. Who actually buys these products of his?" I asked.

  "Who else is going to have the piles of glimmer to give that man the freedom to do what he does?" Diva asked.

  The corporations. If he really did such horrible things, it was against every sort of corporate code and law. The people on Olympus would have been horrified. Of course, the people on Olympus were also dead in an unlawful attack.

  A lot of people had a lot of things to answer for.

  91

  Back at the warehouse I was back in my old familiar place. Stretched out on the table in Sparks’ workshop with sensors connected in various spots to my support suit.

  Implanting the symbiote should be simple enough. A cut to the base of my neck and it would naturally seek to integrate itself with an Olympian body. The symbiotes were usually smaller though. I'd heard of a full grown adult getting one replaced after their own had died, but it was uncommon and a procedure usually attended by watchful medical personnel. That was something we were lacking. We'd just have to make do.

  "Do it," I said.

  Sparks cut a wound in the back of my neck and opened the tube containing the symbiote, holding it against my flesh. I felt the bump as it pressed against me and then the sickening sensation of having my body breached by something foreign. Then the pain came.

  A Network symbiote has to interface with your nerves, which means it found a home at the very base of the spine. It also meant the process of attachment was excruciating. I'd like to claim some sort of Olympian discipline that kept me from responding to that, but it would be a lie. I screamed until my throat was raw and thrashed so violently I might have hurt myself had Hammer not stepped in to hold me down.

  Somewhere amid all the agony the world began to blur and fade away.

  I was no longer aware of my body, but seemed to be floating empty in a featureless void.

  Network Diagnostics: Olympian Biointerface

  Connection Found

  Restarting local OS

  The world flickered black, then after a few moments turned grey. I still had no body, but at least now I had some sense of self.

  Archived version of mindmap found: User identified as Alena Polias

  I was myself again. I was wearing the armor I'd last died in, torn and pierced by numerous spear thrusts and stained dark with blood.

  User has been marked deceased: Corporate Access Revoked

  Escalating

  I couldn't tell how long I floated in that void. It felt like hours, but it was difficult to mark the passage of time when all you’re surrounded by is featureless gray. Finally, my world flickered and I was elsewhere.

  I recognized this place, sort of. Corporate councils regularly met to discuss all sorts of issues, everything from joint military exercises and training to long-term plans and setting of territories. I was standing in the middle of a square formed by four tables. At the tables were seated members of various corporations. I saw the telltale dusters and cowboy hats of SantaFe, a member of Roma in a toga, and others—sixteen in total.

  My armor was gone. It was likely an aggressive move. Unlike Olympus, most corporate cultures didn't handle nudity particularly well and they were seeking to put me at a disadvantage. It wouldn't serve them well. I straightened my spine and moved my hands to clasp behind my back. I didn't know where I was or who these people were, but I'd face them with all the dignity of an Olympian soldier.

  "Well, she certainly looks authentic," said the Roman.

  "If an ability to get your dick hard proved one an authentic Olympian, half the world would lay claim to the heritage," said a bored-looking young woman in the garb of Pharosa. It elicited a series of chuckles around the tables.

  I hadn't moved, I hadn't changed my expression. It caused an uncomfortable sort of shifting from a few of the watchers. If they seek to break your cool, keeping it will make them lose theirs. It was a truth my father always stressed.

  "You claim to be Alena Polias. According to the Network a survivor of Olympus Station, and missing for the past twenty years," said a woman that looked nearly Olympian herself. Even her attire had something of the style of ours, although colors of red, white, and blue, and a smattering of stars suggested some affiliation to Liberty.

  I definitely hadn't wanted to proclaim myself to the world like this. I really did think that my existence was likely to bring out those who had destroyed Olympus. I also wasn't going to cower in the dark.

  "I am," I said.

  The people at the tables began to talk about me. A part of it was the improbability of my claims. A part was a far cruder discussion of my attributes. I didn't like it.

  "Don't acknowledge that you can hear me. I'm speaking to you on a private channel. Think and I'll hear you. Is Ismene with you?"

  I didn't recognize the voice. I didn't know how they'd possibly know about Ismene. The most likely explanation was that they were the ones responsible for the destruction of Olympus. I had to decide whether to play this cautiously or whether to take a risk.

  "How do you know about Ismene?"

  "We don't have time and I don't have the inclination. This gathering of distinguished personates is working themselves up to deciding that you may just be legitimate, and when they do they'll kill you. Answer my question."

  "Ismene was with me when I left the station. I believe she was damaged in what happened afterward."

  "There is a bump on your right thigh. You can feel it with your index finger. Press it."

  The instruction was a strange one, but there was a small, raised bump on my leg. I pressed down. Nothing seemed to happen.

  "You're legit. Who knew? Columbia is about to make you an offer, she's the chick in red, white, and blue. You aren't going to like it, but play along. It's the best deal you're going to get."

  As if on cue, Columbia rose to her feet and flashed a smile at everyone. "Convincing, isn't she? Take a bow, Persephone."

  I assumed she was talking about me. I'd decided to see where the voice took me and that meant playing along for now. I gave a sweeping bow.

  "Another of your little games is it?" asked the woman from Pharosa.

  "Alena Polias. A true daughter of Olympus, fallen from her divine home to find herself in the Underworld. A perfect Persephone and you must admit she suits the
part," Columbia said.

  "So long as we're clear that Alena Polias doesn't actually exist, Pharosa has no objections," said the Pharosan.

  I stiffened at that. They were going to declare me right out of existence. Could they do that? Should I allow it? I might have some claim to Olympus and whatever was left of its resources, but if so they were tied to my name. I didn't like anything about this, but in an unknown you had to go with your instincts. My instincts told me that most of the people at these tables were my enemies and that the voice in my head was not on their side.

  "There was a real one, certainly. How old are you, Persephone?" Columbia said.

  "Twenty-one."

  "We drown in the symbolism and acknowledge this clearly is not the original," said the Roman. "The vote carries. You can sponsor your clone, but we insist on no weapon skills. If you'll have her, let it be as a nature goddess."

  "Agreed. It was the interpretation we had in mind all along," Columbia said.

  "You need not have wasted our time with all this spectacle," said the Pharosan.

  "You can always drag me out of bed for a nice pair of tits," said the Roman.

  One by one the figures at the table began to flicker out until I was left alone with Columbia.

  "Thank you. I think," I said.

  Columbia studied me. "I don't know what that was all about, but you've friends in the right places. A lot of people would kill for the opportunity you've just been given. Don't waste it. The world will be watching."

  Columbia flickered away.

  Then the room vanished and suddenly I was elsewhere.

  It was a recreation of Philosopher's Square on Olympus Station—and I was being hugged rather fiercely by Ismene.

  92

  I hugged back. It was so nice to see a familiar face that I wanted to weep. It had been a hell of a few days. I let things continue for a few moments more.

  "If you're conjuring the environment, you can put some clothes on us. You can also stop grabbing my ass any time," I said.

  Ismene stepped back and clothes sprang into being on her. I got some attire too—by some definition of the word. A few strategically placed vines appeared over my body. A well-made suit of armor they were not.

  "Sorry. Can't do anything more than that. You're Persephone now and while the Network is still working out exactly that means, the dress code is pretty strict," Ismene said.

  I could worry about that later. It was the least of my concerns.

  "Which way do the waters of Ildritch fall?" I asked.

  It was a test. There had been a few cases of AIs impersonating other AIs, and Ismene and I had long ago worked out a pattern of identification. The questions were nonsensical, but the placement of words was important.

  "Onward, ever green. I'm really me," Ismene said.

  I hugged her again, because it had been that kind of day.

  "Why aren't I dead?" I asked.

  "Babe. You're a dead woman walking. You know that already. You burned alive when we fell from orbit. Suit of advanced nanotechnology or not, there was no way you were surviving that. I put you back together after," Ismene said.

  I had died. That was a relief to know in a way.

  "So I am a clone," I said.

  "Not really. I figured if I was going to have to build you over from scratch, I'd make a few improvements. I had the experimental database in me as well as all the updates since you were born," Ismene said.

  "You upgraded my genome to have the latest enhancements. You reconfigured my musculature for Earth gravity as well?" I asked.

  "I wasn't going to leave you with limbs broken from the stress. You got bone upgrades, too. Plus—and you aren't going to like this bit—I reworked your whole system to better interface with the nanites," Ismene said.

  That was a violation of pretty much everything Olympians esteemed. It somehow didn't seem to matter much right now.

  "Then where have you been? Why didn't you build me a Network interface too?" I asked.

  "I messed up a little there. I didn't even think about it, since you'd always been able to access the Network before. I was working fast. I thought there was a real chance I'd be destroyed from the crash and wanted to make sure any nanites that survived prioritized getting you restored over repairing me," Ismene said.

  That was stupid. Ismene was responsible for my life, and that meant keeping herself in functional shape should have been the priority.

  "But you're back now," I said.

  "You triggered some sort of reboot of me. It channeled backwards through your Network interface," Ismene said.

  It must have been when I'd pushed that bump on my thigh. I explained what had happened.

  "Weird. I don't have any sort of information on that. I don't have information on much at all. I'm reading that they say we AIs caused the destruction of Olympus," Ismene said.

  That had to be devastating news for her.

  "I got that as well. You have Network privileges? I figured yours would have been revoked just like mine were," I said.

  "I'm using yours. You are now Persephone, a licensed hero in service to the Liberty Corporation. It affords you the equivalent access of a mid-level manager," Ismene said.

  That was respectable, and far more than I'd have expected.

  "So just what is a licensed hero? I don't remember them," I said.

  "We didn't have them. They're recent. In the last twenty years Network access has become a lot more common than it was for us. Particularly down on the surface," Ismene said.

  I remembered the factory that was building advanced neural connectors. "Why?" I asked.

  "You don't know what you've been breathing. That stuff is toxic sludge and the lungs of most are already starting to rot away. You've been down a few days. Have you seen a tree?" Ismene asked.

  I hadn't, now that she'd mentioned it. Even the few stretches of open space I'd seen only had dry and withered-looking grass.

  "Water the same?" I asked.

  "You know it. Life expectancy is down to about forty and sinking fast. People are running to a world where the waters are pure and the air is clean," Ismene said.

  "The Network," I said.

  "Exactly. Of course, that world is filled with murderous monsters and warlords, and bad people of all sorts, because a weapon skill costs a fortune. They're looking for a utopia and instead find a place where they are hunted at every turn," Ismene said.

  It hadn't been like that twenty years ago. The wars I remembered were organized things and the few surfacers with Network access really did have access to something like a paradise.

  "Where did the monsters come from?" I asked.

  "What use is a weapon skill without something to kill? The wealthy and the powerful brought them into being so it would all have some purpose," Ismene said.

  I'd trained my whole life to fight, but it wasn't just to show off. It was to protect my Corporation and its interests. It was honorable and it was noble. This was something altogether different.

  "You've yet to answer my original question," I said.

  "Sponsored heroes define the core values of a Corporation. Idealized versions of it, usually drawn from history of Mythology. Roma has Mars, who can lay waste to whole battlefields along with a host of other deities. Uncle Sam, Lady Liberty, Columbia, Paul Bunyan, they fight it out for Liberty," Ismene said.

  I was Persephone. I knew her story although she'd never been my favorite of goddesses. A solid pedigree though, the daughter of Zeus and Demeter. In mythology she had been abducted and taken to the Underworld where she wound up married to Hades after he'd kidnapped and raped her. Demeter tried to get her daughter back, but by that point she was bound to the Underworld and destined to spend a third of the year below with Hades and the rest of the time above in the heavens.

  I had to admit a lot of the myth fit my circumstance pretty well. I truly had fallen from the heavens and was trapped in the lands below.

  I was familiar with my skills gained from long p
ractice in Olympus. I wondered what I had now, if anything. I focused to try to bring them up.

  Name: Persephone: Corporation: Liberty (sponsored)

  Class: Goddess of Vegetation and Death

  Level: 1

  Agility: Divine (Good)

  Strength: Human (Exceptional)

  Charisma: Divine (Great): Intellect: Divine (Great)

  Notable Traits

  No Combat Skills

  Unarmored

  Immortal

  Those were interesting. "Do you know anything about my stats and traits?" I asked.

  "In game terms you really are a Goddess and your stats reflect that. Strength is your worst, but you're still as strong as the strongest of humans. The rest are various levels of divine which are vastly superior," Ismene said.

  That meant I was superhuman in the areas of agility, charisma, and intellect. The agility would be nice if I still had my weapon skills, but I didn't and those traits were worrying me.

  "And the traits?" I asked.

  "You're a vegetation Goddess. No matter how much you might practice or try to bring in your real world expertise, you'll never have a weapon skill, or skill in unarmed combat, and I'm afraid the vines and flowers are a permanent feature. You won't be getting into a suit of virtual armor ever again," Ismene said.

  That was devastating news. I was a soldier, and everything I'd trained at my whole life was around being a soldier. I was now some kind of hero expected to go into dangerous situations while being completely unable to defend myself.

  "The immortal bit?" I asked.

  "Just as it says. You have no death penalty of any kind. Should you receive a fatal blow of any kind you'll immediately respawn in the nearest field of flowers. A timer will not be started and your sponsoring corporation will not be assessed any fees," Ismene said.