Copyright
SCOUT
An Exodus Chronicles Short
Copyright © 2015 D. Robert Pease
Cover Art Copyright © 2015 D. Robert Pease
Published by Walking Stick Books
October, 2017 Edition
First published as The Scout
in The Immortality Chronicles (2015)
Edited by Carol Davis
Part of “The Future Chronicles”,
created by Samuel Peralta
eBook License Notes:
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Disclaimer:
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, or the author has used them fictitiously.
Other Books by D. Robert Pease
SPACE OPERA
The Exodus Chronicles
Book 1 – Enslaved
Book 2 – Red Sea (Coming Soon)
Book 3 – Promised Land (Coming Soon)
Prequel Short Story – Scout
YA SCIENCE FICTION
Noah Zarc Trilogy
Book 1 – Noah Zarc: Mammoth Trouble
Book 2 – Noah Zarc: Cataclysm
Book 3 – Noah Zarc: Declaration
Special Edition – Noah Zarc: Omnibus
Prequel Short Story – Noah Zarc: Roswell Incident
YA URBAN FANTASY
Joey Cola Series
Book 1 – Dream Warriors
Book 2 – Cleopatra Rising (Coming Soon)
Book 3 – Third Reality (Coming Soon)
EPIC FANTASY
Shadow Swarm
Short Story – A Chink in the Armor
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Scout
I’D BEEN KILLED a hundred times, and I wished just once it’d stick. Perhaps tonight was the night.
Across the millennia and thousands of worlds, I’d finally been found. Hunted down and cornered on this godforsaken world at the edge of a godforsaken galaxy far from a home I knew I’d never see again.
“You want another?”
I glanced up to see the bartender standing over me, a bottle tipped toward my glass.
“Probably shouldn’t.”
“Ah, why not? You look like you could use another.”
I shook my head.
“Just as well. You couldn’t handle it anyway.” The chrome-skinned bartender gave me a sly smile.
I chuckled at the robot and sighed. “Go ahead.” Someone had done an amazing job on this guy’s AI. Either that, or I didn’t want to leave and face whatever was out there in the dark alleys of New York.
The robot poured me the drink, then moved on to his next customer. The bar was half-full of guys like me, who most likely didn’t have anyone to go home to—or at least, anyone they cared to go home to. Here we all sat, in a crowd, but all alone. I glanced back at the bartender. Of course, I probably had more in common with the circuits and processors that made up this robot than I did the flesh and blood men who sat around trying to quiet the screams in their heads of the billions of creatures they’d massacred all over the universe... Okay, maybe that last bit was just me.
“I’ve seen you in here before, haven’t I?”
A slender man whose skin hung loose on his bones like his worn suit jacket nodded toward me.
I just nodded back, not in the mood for chitchat.
He slid over a couple of bar stools anyway. “Hard to believe, isn’t it?”
“What’s that?”
He bobbed his head toward the room. “This is what it’s come to.”
I grunted, not enjoying the intrusion into my dark thoughts.
“Humanity pulls itself out of the slime, builds what folks a few hundred years ago would have thought to be a utopian society, and yet here we are, doing the same thing guys have done for centuries.”
“Annoying those who want to be left alone?”
“Exactly.” He cupped his beer with calloused hands, staring into the amber light bouncing through the dirty glass. “Why do we feel so alone?”
I nodded grimly. It never ceased to amaze me how these creatures, whose entire existence was merely a blink of the eye compared to my own, would feel just as keenly the pointlessness of life.
“Do you ever wonder if there’s something more?”
How much had this guy had to drink tonight?
“I mean, my mother used to talk about heaven, like that’s where we truly belong. Maybe...” His gaze drifted off as he whispered, “Maybe she was on to something.”
“Listen.” I set my glass down on the bar. “I’ve seen more than you can imagine. Lived longer than you’d guess, and I can tell you there isn’t anything more. The sooner you deal with that idea, the sooner you can find some kind of meaning in this life.”
His soft smile, which had appeared at the memory of his mother, faded. “Yeah, I suppose you’re right.” He grew quiet and went back to staring into his beer.
I hated this planet with all its contradictions—all its false hope for a future that would never be. Why were these stupid humans so hopeful and so depressed all at the same time?
In the end, it didn’t matter. I had a job to do. And somewhere, perhaps in this very bar, was a creature whose sole purpose was to see me fail. I sensed a dull resonance that could only be Hunter—like a ping off a wireless transponder—but I couldn’t gauge distance or location. He could be anyone, or anything, and when he found me he would take pleasure in ripping me limb from limb.
It was the same on every planet. Sometimes Hunter found me and killed me in the most unpleasant ways. Sometimes I failed to deliver to Master a world worthy of her conquest, and she did even more unpleasant things to me. But every once in a while, I succeeded. I helped mold some despicable creatures into an army whose might nearly matched that of the Muradine. During those rare occasions I’d given Master the opportunity to achieve the highest acclaim back on our home world. Each time she’d promised me the next success would be my last, and she’d give me my greatest desire: a permanent death.
Earth held more promise than any other world I’d scouted, but first I had to crack the puzzle that was humanity. This crazy race seemed to defy all that was proper and all that should be in a universe that, to the unskilled eye, seemed without order. But within the disorder I’d discovered a pattern—a natural progression all life seemed to follow. Not here. Not on this watery world. No matter how I labored, applying the knowledge I’d gleaned over millennia, men would not be molded into the worthy opponents I knew they were so capable of being.
Something in their flesh resisted.
Understand this: mankind was nearly as accomplished at doling out death as any species I’d discovered. Their minds raged with turmoil. The history of this planet, they called Earth, was filled with war after war. But always they stopped short. Always
they held back. I was running out of time to discover why.
My partner in misery didn’t notice when I stood. Any joy he’d hoped to find in this life was draining onto the sticky floor beneath his stool.
I had that affect on people.
One last glance at the patrons in the bar revealed no signs of Hunter. I pulled up my collar and headed for the door.
Outside, the air was cool. A wisp of cloud between the skyscrapers passed over the nearly full moon. How I hated this planet, with its lonely cratered moon—nothing like home. Nothing like the immense sphere that unraveled around me, no matter where I stood on its inner surface, with its star, much warmer than this one, always gleaming in the same place overhead. Never dark. Never cold.
Sometimes I worried I’d lose that memory, but like everything else I’d experienced in my blasted unending life, it was burned into digital storage, never to be erased, never letting me live in peace. I shook my head. It was going to be one of those nights.
Pulling my coat tight around me, I dialed up my light sensors and headed down the street. Not that I’d be able to see Hunter. Not until it was too late, at least.
Even at this late hour the streets teemed with people, both living and robotic. Bright lights flashed, displaying every kind of entertainment possible. In a world where folks hardly needed to work—where robot-kind did all the manufacturing, cooking, cleaning and every other labor that required lifting a finger—mankind had a whole bunch of free time. Instead of figuring out better and more efficient ways to kill each other, they spent their time involved in anything that took their minds off the meaninglessness of it all. This was where I’d failed. This was where she would find me guilty.
The hair on the back of my neck stood on end and I glanced over my shoulder, sure Hunter would be there. I wasn’t certain who’d sent him, only that he’d come. If Master had sent him because she already knew of my failure, then Hunter would wait for a moment that was just right to cause me the most pain. If it were some other member of the Muradine, then a blessed death could follow. Of course, I hoped for the latter, but it was always the former. Master didn’t give her subjects a long leash. She had to know I’d failed.
Picking up my pace, I headed for Central Park. If Hunter tracked me now, there was only one place I’d be safe.
* * *
Like mankind, I had a proclivity for places of solitude—places that resembled the way things had once been. It hadn’t taken much influence on my part to have the land set aside for a park all those hundreds of years ago, a place for me to recharge—literally. Even as I entered the well-lit paths between centuries-old trees, I felt the energy of the cosmos surging through my limbs. The ground all around me hummed, giving me strength.
The moonlight glinted off the reservoir in the middle of the park, highlighting the surface as it began to vibrate. Droplets of water separated from the lake and streamed toward me. I basked while the liquid power poured over and through me. The few people nearby slowed for a moment, then went on as if they hadn’t seen anything unusual. Thus was the strength of my glamour—or the weakness of their minds.
Time stilled until it was just the deep, cool water and me. The lake churned and was thrown back as I stepped into its depths. Geysers thundered twenty feet into the air. I walked until the surface of the lake was over my head. The churning cauldron above collapsed, smothering me in its cold embrace. Time continued on—with those outside unaware that a creature from another world had passed by. A thin line of blazing light appeared before me, and I strode forward through the water, allowing the glow to bathe me just as the water did. The line widened while I pushed into the light. The water stayed behind.
I was home. At least as much of a home as a gypsy who endlessly wandered the stars could hope for.
Home was my respite from the world outside. I’d moved it from place to place around the Earth as the need arose, but it had been in Central Park for a few hundred years now. I suspected I wouldn’t be moving again and hoped that perhaps, one day soon, it would become my tomb.
Of course that would never happen, because she wouldn’t allow it.
It was meant to be a simple task. Master, who was on the cusp of being empress, had created me to be the perfect scout and sent me across the universe in search of worlds that had the makings of greatness. This little blue planet was to be my highest achievement, the world that would propel her to ultimate power.
For millennia I was on track. I helped mold humanity into creatures who constantly warred with one another. I laughed when they called World War I the war to end all wars—for there would be many, many more.
The main difficulty was, their skill in battle had more to do with the weakness of their flesh than their prowess at killing. That was the standard course on the worlds I’d developed in the past. The next step was always an enhancement of the flesh and the mind—a putting aside of weak tissue for something much stronger, something worthy of Master’s interest.
Here, my failure becomes apparent. At every turn, humanity resisted an upgrade.
* * *
Lights flared to life as I walked down a long silver hallway. The power of the universe still coursed through me. I thought back to before I’d built my lab—before I had begun to use its framework to focus the cosmic rays pouring through the planet from the deep reaches of space. My constant weakness was almost unbearable at times. That Master had left me in that state—that she somehow gained pleasure from dropping me off on some half-formed world so far from home—
I stopped, pressing my hands against the orbs these humans called eyes. No, I wouldn’t allow the fury to overtake me again. I’d put that aside eons ago.
The door to my lab opened and I strode in. My gaze immediately fell on the robot lying on the table. It was perfect in every way—indiscernible from a natural-born human. Under intense scrutiny, even dissection, it would be seen as human. Only if its cells were viewed under an electron microscope would the truth be known. Billions of tiny nano-bots made up its biological structure, designed to allow infinite variation in its form at will... if it had a will, that was. I could program it to talk like a human, interact like a human, but in the end it would be a facsimile. It would still be an imposter. I shook my head. I’d done this on hundreds of planets. Nudging the technology along. But something was different here.
I turned to the small cage in the corner. A grubby woman huddled there, her face hidden beneath a mound of matted hair. She used to cringe when I opened her door. Now she gazed at me dully.
Pushing aside her hair, I saw the sensor band was still in place. Those first months, she had torn it off at every chance, but now she was truly broken. I felt a twinge of sadness for this despicable being. Why did these humans move me at times? They were so weak. So unworthy of pity, and yet…
I grimaced. The years were finally taking their toll on me.
“Perhaps today will be the day you’ll be free.”
She made no response.
I closed the cage and moved over to the computer terminal next to the robot. A stream of numbers rolled up the screen. Patterns that showed some semblance of the consciousness locked inside the woman in the cage, even if she displayed no outside appearance of being aware.
What nightmares she endured.
This technology should be sufficient. Humanity had already mapped the brain down to the smallest level. They knew what memory looked like. They had delved deep into the subconscious and learned the secrets of how a human life came to be self-aware. But some barrier stood in the way of mapping that to an artificial life form. I’d worked for centuries to help them along. I’d done it on other worlds with much less effort. So why couldn’t I bring humanity to the next stage, one that would make them a truly formidable opponent?
“Computer, initiate transfer.”
A slight crackle from the paper sheet under the robot and a soft moan from the cage told me it was working. The display on the screen lit up. I’d done this long enough to see pa
tterns, to know the difference between pain and pleasure. The test subject was definitely not enjoying the process. A second monitor presented the robot’s brain activity. A simple stream of zeros scrolled up the screen. Then some numbers changed. More and more, until patterns began to emerge. Patterns that started to match the ones on the other display. Within moments both monitors showed the same scrolling code. The robot was now synced with the woman.
I let it run for a few more minutes, let the transfer bake into the hardware. “Computer, sever the connection.”
Glancing back and forth between the two monitors, I watched as the patterns diverged. The human’s thought waves softened. Her pain diminished. The robot’s pattern continued to show the same pain and fear—but something else, too. Something I hadn’t seen before. Was it independent thought? The minutes ticked by, and I began to hope. Perhaps I’d done it. Perhaps this time—
The numbers on the screen went haywire. A massive spike of agony rolled through the code. The robot on the table bucked once, twice, and grew still.
Rows of zeros on the monitor mocked me, shouting out my failure.
Master wouldn’t like this at all.
* * *
Back out in the streets of New York, I searched for my next test subject. The rational side of me said I’d done this a hundred times before, without success. But perhaps this one would be different.
The screaming still haunted me. Though it was only a pattern of numbers on a screen, I felt the horrendous agony of the life I’d attempted to transfer into the robot. Something had fought against the process. It was almost as if—
I stopped short. A man walking behind me yelped as he swerved around.
All of my human test subjects, every single one, had been part of the experiment unwillingly. Yes, most of them came for the promise of a warm meal, after spending long, cold nights out in the brutal New York winter, but once they saw what I wanted from them, every man and woman had rebelled—even the children. Perhaps willingness was the key. Maybe something within the human psyche fought so intensely against being used in such a way that their consciousness refused to be transferred.
Scout by D. Robert Pease Page 1
