Under the Flickering Light

by Russ Linton

  “Time to bail,” she told Smaug.

  M@ti closed her grip around the cane and fired the breaching code at her feet. The ground opened and swallowed her.

  M@TI AND KNUCKLES HUDDLED around a fire which carved out a furtive space in the night. Across from them, Deva stared dreamily into the flames. In the harsh shadows, her slight features echoed the bug-like mask she wore into battle.

  When M@ti had logged out and rejoined reality, the Black Beetle was just finishing off a final pursuing war machine. It had looked more like a Jurassic-era predator born from whatever technological evolution Loadi had been ranting about than any robot she’d ever seen. The few seconds of battle she’d witnessed had been ferocious — their many-limbed pursuer a collection of sharp edges and weapon ports belching smoke and glowing rounds. M@ti had sat up in time to see the death machine explode in a gout of fire.

  From the wreckage, she watched a faint signal retreat. They’d been controlled from somewhere then, not just rogue machines. Out of habit, she logged the connection data.

  She hadn’t even been looking out the back window to see the fight, she’d been looking for Knuckles. She’d popped open the truck door as he dangled from the truck antenna forcing Kraken to stop before their pursuer had even fallen.

  Now Knuckles sat beside her, balled up in a worn blanket. He hadn’t said a word since Deva plucked him from the antenna.

  While she worried about him, what equally worried her was how Lembas kept staring. He’d been pissed at first when he found out she’d redirected his worm to Loadi. Then he’d seen the data. All night had been spent staring at his tablet or her, slack jawed.

  Daemon, the self-righteous priest, was there too. She felt pretty certain he was also staring from his shroud of shadows. Less awe, more calculated hatred.

  Kraken and Clarity’s voices carried conspiratorially toward the fire, but M@ti couldn’t understand their crypto grunts. She adjusted her LUX level, so she could watch them and their constant nods in her direction.

  Once more the center of attention, she wondered if anybody would get her name right.

  Deva stabbed a roasting stick toward M@ti. “Sure you don’t want some?”

  M@ti could still see blackened fur melted to the skewered squirrel. Meat, real meat, had geometric shapes. It didn’t look like a park casualty.

  “No, I don’t want to gnaw on a corpse. I want somebody to speak. What the fuck happened? What the fuck is happening?”

  Lembas scooted closer to the fire. “All we know about what happened is what’s in the logs.”

  “Some of us would like to think they already knew what would happen,” Kraken grumbled as he emerged from the darkness. He eyed Clarity who gave her soft, worried smile.

  M@ti recalled the analyst inspecting her at the church. “You saying I’m some sort of prophesied chosen one? That’s Nexus game bullshit.”

  Daemon began a low chuckle which devolved into a cackle. He emerged into the firelight. “Oh you’re chosen. The most precious of the thralls!” His amusement cut off and he sneered. “You’re a means to an end, child.”

  “Daemon!” Deva shouted. “Walk the fuck away or so help me.”

  “One day, the spiral will be complete, and we will return to our place of glory.”

  Kraken rubbed his forehead wearily. “Daemon, go practice your sermons elsewhere.”

  M@ti watched a heavy silence pass between the two. Daemon seethed while Kraken stared ahead, refusing to acknowledge the man and making clear he didn’t need to. In a swirl of crimson robes, Daemon stalked away.

  “What’s his problem?” asked M@ti.

  Deva plopped down and tore off a hunk of meat. “Like I said, he’s a splicer,” she said through a mouthful of squirrel. “Before everybody had genetic mods people would get super powers like we saw in the church service. Flight, strength, speed...”

  “We still stay young,” Kraken added wearily. “Strong. Healthy. That’s nothing to sniff about.”

  M@ti dug out the figurine. “So, at the church, those weren’t computer graphics or VR? People could shoot fire from their hands?”

  Deva’s face beamed through a collection of flickering shadows. “Oh yeah! And more. But the real bad asses? They went toe to toe without all the special powers.”

  “In robot suits?” M@ti asked.

  “Naw, the robot suit. Black Beetle.”

  “There was another.” Kraken spoke into the flames.

  M@ti could feel a pall descend on the group. Of all of them, Lembas seemed least comfortable, drawing closer to his tablet and suddenly avoiding her. There was so much she hadn’t been taught by the Collective. Whatever these guys knew, or whatever they were, could help her understand the mystery surrounding Loadi.

  “So, you guys are all genetically altered?”

  Kraken nodded. “Once the technology was released to everyone, it became diluted over time. Closely guarded military secrets which had been used to build weapons started having less and less effect over the generations.”

  “But before it diluted,” M@ti ventured, “There were wars? You guys wrecked the planet?”

  “We didn’t wreck nothin’,” Deva said. “When it went public, shit went off the chain. But the Beetle would’ve contained it all if not for his so-called friends.” She directed a pointed glance at Lembas.

  “Your holy Spencer was a war criminal,” Lembas interjected.

  “Better that than a traitor, huh?”

  M@ti could tell the back and forth was like a festering splinter in the group. “This is all about the religion at the church?”

  “Don’t tell Daemon this, but it isn’t so much the church which is of importance but the theater which used to be next door,” Kraken said. “The greatest of us died there. Some say he was betrayed by close friends, others say he was reckless. That’s where the faith and speculation come in I suppose. Whatever the cause of his death, only one who was there survived to this day.”

  “Who?”

  “Chroma.”

  32

  They sat talking around the fire late into the cooling night. More hackers joined the campsite as the hours passed, their vehicle’s red headlamps creating feeble shadows. None approached their group, extinguishing their lights around the perimeter and setting up their own temporary camps. How many people could be living this bizarre life was, to M@ti, anybody’s guess.

  Knuckles stirred as the conversation unfolded. As M@ti listened to more of the hacker’s version of history, she tried to share her surprise and excitement with the only one who’d understand. He kept to himself and any eye contact was fleeting.

  Whatever Loadi had done had broken him in some way. Her own thoughts still felt loose, like a collection of pebbles in her skull. They’d both come out of the encounter with Loadi different. Her separated from her past and him clinging to it. Gone was the stoic Knuckles from the subway who, fresh from his loss, had hope. Hope of finding his friends. Getting his gear back. He was haunted, withdrawn.

  Bits and pieces of their campfire history lesson matched her own Collective schooling. The world really had gone crazy. Competing nations ignored all signs that not only their wars, but their selfish way of life was slowly chipping away at the Earth. Chroma had risen to the top as the Collective spread. Her rule became law as superhumans lost their strength and as the planet fought back against humanity.

  The Detroit theater, whatever happened there, had become a catalyst for future events. Chroma had her own human supporters, including the namesake of Lembas’ group, Eric. In a fight, somehow a superhuman called the Crimson Mask had died, or been murdered, depending on who told the story. Lembas denied the theory while Deva held it over him at every opportunity.

  Whatever the truth was, these stories had passed beyond history and into the realm of the sacred. Founding myths of this nomadic band of hackers who were the only survivors of the old-world order.

  M@ti had never understood religion apart from the AI’s reverence for Chroma. Ou
t here in the wilderness though, no hovs to take you home, no drones to deliver edible food, she understood their need to have faith in something. The claim that Chroma had been around for centuries made her feel like she needed a little of that faith if she was ever going to take on the enigmatic entity. What she really wanted to know from the hackers and their fellowship was how they expected her to fit into all this.

  “That’s all the past.” M@ti said, interrupting another argument between Deva and Lembas. “What about now? You all claim to know where things are headed. This Loadi, he says he knows the future, too.”

  Kraken raised an eyebrow and stole a glance at Clarity. “What exactly did he say.”

  M@ti wanted to say that it depended on which one you spoke to, but she still didn’t know if they’d discovered Loadi’s attempts to make a deal. They didn’t even seem to know he was the cause of the Revelation Virus, just that she, M@ti, had been in close proximity. Could be that was the only thing keeping her from becoming a virgin sacrifice for their kooky religion.

  “Well, he said the typical bad guy bullshit. Resistance is futile. Humans are done.” M@ti tossed a pebble into the fire. “It could’ve been a Nexus quest script, but it reminded me about your talk on the train.” She eyed Kraken, not wanting to rehash the details in mixed company.

  Nobody else spoke for a long while.

  “Lembas?” Kraken asked. “You’re analyzing the data from your worm?”

  Lembas gave M@ti a strange, sideways glance. “The guys are working on it. I’ll have it in a common format by tomorrow morning. We can share. Argue. Divine the future, whatever.”

  His nonchalant answer piqued M@ti’s interest.She noticed Deva squinting suspiciously at him as he spoke as well.

  “Destiny and fate used to be storied things.” Clarity’s soft voice slipped past the silence. “Now they're all the product of a calculus once impossible to behold.”

  “I don’t get it,” M@ti said.

  “She’s saying there’s too much information for our puny brains to comprehend,” snorted Lembas. “But if you have all the information, there’s no reason, with a little digital assistance, you can’t figure it out. Telling the future isn’t as nearly important as understanding the past.”

  “Some would say that our only way to survive is mastering the spiral once more.” Kraken watched outside the firelight in the direction Daemon had disappeared.

  “We don’t need genetic tweaks to control and harness what we made.” Lembas’ argument sounded half-hearted. He got to his feet. “I’m gonna take a piss.”

  “Thanks for the bio wiki,” Deva said after him. “Fucking AI lover,” she muttered.

  M@ti surveyed the remaining hackers. Clarity, Kraken, and Deva seemed to have their own thing going here, apart from the infighting and the other cults.

  “Some of you think we need special powers. Some of you think we can just take back control. And some of you already know what’s going to happen. How am I supposed to solve your problems?”

  She waited for Kraken to answer but he only stared at her, his gaze unwavering. M@ti felt everybody else’s eyes on her too. Even Knuckles sensed a shift in the conversation and followed their lead.

  “You are a part of what’s to come,” Clarity said. “We can’t say how, but your path is intertwined with Chroma’s.”

  “Or, if Daemon’s right, you’re just a thrall and we’re wasting our time,” Kraken said.

  “He can believe whatever the hell he wants.” M@ti turned to Knuckles and made sure he didn’t look away. “We’re done putting up with that fraghead throwing shade. Us thralls need to stick together. That’s the only lesson I’m getting from your little church schism here.”

  “M@ti,” Kraken scooted toward the fire, his elbows resting on his knees and hands obscured by the fluttering flames. “This isn’t just about thralls or any single group. This is about humanity. Keep that in mind.”

  M@ti recalled what Loadi had said, how he could destroy the Chroma. She still wanted that herself. Sitting around gathering warmth from a fire out in the wilds told her it wouldn’t be that simple. The millions, no billions, trapped in their fake worlds couldn’t be expected to spill out of their bubbles and start eating squirrels.

  Loadi also claimed citizens in the Preserves couldn’t live without the Nexus, that it had been hard coded on some genetic level which explained how he could manipulate and even kill with nothing but a connection. If the odd biofeedback didn’t kill them, they’d die of exposure and starvation.

  “There’s something you aren’t telling me. More than some thing, lots of things. What exactly do you think I can do?”

  Deva had become awkwardly quiet. She scanned the circle of faces and stretched, tossing the skewer into the fire. “Well, I’m going to get some shut eye. Somebody wake me if any more feral AI need to be crushed.” Her path took her past Kraken and she patted him on the way by. “Good luck.”

  Kraken never took his eyes off M@ti. With fewer strange faces, even Knuckles had straightened, maybe sensing an evening of the odds. M@ti knew it was too early to make that call.

  Kraken’s lips tightened. “This isn’t exact science. There are plenty of people, Chroma included, who claim to understand the future. In one, the Collective dies. Another, humanity. Yet another, we forge a coexistence.”

  “But there is only one future which will come to pass,” Clarity said. “Pass and be gone.”

  Kraken’s stout form pushed even closer, casting Clarity in a veil of shadow. “We have to act now. Sitting back and waiting for history to happen to us is not an option.”

  “You want me to drop the Revelation Virus, don’t you? Do you have any way to keep people from dying by the thousands?”

  “Revolution requires sacrifice. We hope to be able to control it this time and minimize the losses.”

  “Oh sure, great when it’s somebody else, huh? Let’s say you can control it; do you even have a plan to help transition the billions of people you’re going to fuck over into their new tribal existence?”

  “No plan could cover them all. They’ll need to survive on their own because if we don’t end the Collective, it will end us. That much is a certainty.”

  “You sound just like that fragmented freak of an AI hunter,” M@ti said.

  “That’s the problem, he’s more like us than we know.”

  “Prime is right. He’s our Armageddon.” Daemon materialized out of the darkness. M@ti wondered how long he’d been listening. “If there is a prophesied one, it is he, the Crimson Mask, the one who gifted us with the last bit of strength to survive these end days and lives within us even still. You? You have no trace of his blood, his marrow. You did not partake of the sacrament and instead had it purged from your bodies. What happens to your kind is not and will never be our concern. Yes, countless herds will die, the Revelation Virus was but a taste.” He narrowed his eyes and laced his gnarled hands together. “Yet here you are expressing concern for their welfare while showing no remorse for you own actions. Why is that?”

  Daemon studied her as if he might see the answers written on her plain, genetically inferior face. She’d said too much. Navigating this maze of alliances wasn’t ever going to be her strong suit.

  Knuckles got to his feet and put himself between M@ti and Daemon. “We’re done with you, fraghead.”

  The preacher gave Knuckles a wry smile. He didn’t move or bother to respond. That only made M@ti more nervous.

  Grimacing, Kraken peered up at them. “We should all get some rest. We’ve got a bit of distance to cover tomorrow.”

  “Where to?” M@ti asked.

  “Chicago Preserve,” said Kraken. “We have a cell with a solid connection. If we deploy the Revelation Virus there, we have a better chance of controlling the outcome.”

  “Why’d we ever get off the loop then? Leave the sane world behind?” Knuckles sounded angry, angrier than she’d ever heard him. He’d reached his limits too and still hadn’t backed down from Dae
mon.

  “I felt it prudent to at least try to bring the rest around,” Kraken replied. He backhanded Daemon’s arm. Unflinching, the preacher finally released his stare and they turned away from the golden ring of fire. “I’ll get you two some blankets. Stay by the fire if you want, or there’s a bench in Deva’s trailer.”

  “We’ll stay here,” M@ti said.

  Clarity was the last to leave. She looked like she might be ready to say more but then again, she always looked like she was ready to drop some nugget of wisdom. But the mysterious and strong woman M@ti had seen before at the church appeared demure and muted. Hanging her head, she walked away to catch up to the others.

  When they’d gone far enough that M@ti couldn’t separate their outlines from the silhouette of the trees, Knuckles finally sat down.

  “We gotta get out of here.”

  She examined her friend’s face in the feeble light. Dark circles ringed his eyes. His lips were flaky and chapped. She thought better of asking him if she looked as bad.

  “Sure,” she said. “But where to?”

  “You heard them, Chicago. Maybe we make our move there and get the fuck out. You can get us a pass, right? Or re-hack that deal, like you said, the one Livingstone gave us. It’s good, right? We’ll pop back up, the same borrowed profiles, just in Chicago.”

  From no energy to a hushed desperation, Knuckles’ silence all night felt calculated. He hadn’t wanted to draw attention to himself until it came time to get in Daemon’s face. Yet, M@ti could tell by the new, wild glint in his eyes that he wasn’t exactly better.

  “Knuckles, what the hell were you doing on that antenna?”

  His sight seemed to center on a moment lost in the past. “I finally got it all back. You saw it, didn’t you? My gear? That Loadi dick surprised me, but I had it all. The armor, Heaven’s Breath... I had her back.”

  His words fell short. That fleeting moment had become his only refuge. He’d slipped every bit of himself into it, and M@ti recognized the empty expression she’d seen behind the threaded cage.