The Download

by R. E. Carr

  Saikain turned to the old shaman and rested his hand on his shoulder. “Sorakare, you have served the Tribe for my forty-four seasons of life and for fifty-seven seasons more before I was even born. For fifty-one seasons, you alone have called the Summoning. You are my father’s right hand. Although I do not know what the Tribe will do without you, Old Father Sorakare, I will not dishonor the road you have chosen. The entire Tribe shall mourn you.”

  “Mourn?” Kei mouthed.

  “Do not mourn me, Son of the Great Bear. No one should mourn me. I give this husk with pleasure, so that they might live. Take me, Great Spirit, and may my spirit return to guide this Council! Sotaka, take this knife and serve not only your family, but your people!”

  Kei lowered his head. His eyes remained dry, even as he heard the caterwauling of the holy men. The soft, tearing sound echoed in his ears—the frothy, meaty, satisfying sound of a throat giving way to a knife.

  Over the din of chanting, prayer, and wailing, Kei honed in on his old master’s choking. The Old Bison was no more. It ended quickly for such a venerable life. Kei heard the telltale gag and then a splash. The man who had been his mentor, his spirit guide, and his friend dissolved into nothingness at the bottom of the Holy Spring.

 

  Jenn tried to howl as electrical shocks raged through her. First, she heard clicking and beeping, then static. Finally, her eyes opened. A smooth figure stood in front of her.

  “Can you understand me, human construct 63-86-H57?” the figure asked.

  “What?”

  “Is my speech understandable, HC-63-86-H57?” Its eerie metallic red head seemed to cock ever so slightly.

  “What the hell are you?”

  “Processing.”

  Jenn looked down at herself and once again saw a body of sparkling energy. The red construct before her resembled a metal mannequin—utterly featureless, but still human in form. Jenn tried taking deep breaths even though she recognized that she hadn’t had lungs for quite some time.

  “Who are you?” Jenn asked again. “Who the hell are you?”

  “I am the Construct Assistant Level Alpha for human DNA pattern HC-63-86-H57, derived from Electronic Life-form 14B-Rheak,” it replied.

  “You’re what?”

  “Attempting to simplify,” it said. A ripple moved up and down its head.

  The entire area took shape, a welcome relief from the featureless space Jenn had been drifting in. She found herself in a cage of green energy lines, all of them pulsing with distinct patterns. “Where the hell am I now? In a computer?”

  “You are in a network of what you consider computers, HC-63-86-H57,” the construct replied.

  “It really looks like this? I thought I was in a movie for a minute.”

  “This system is being interpreted by your frame of reference.”

  “Huh?”

  The construct rippled again. “Pulling a reference file from your memory banks. ‘It all depends on your point of view.’ A pattern from the BJX-60 System would not interpret its environment in the same fashion as you.”

  “So—I’m seeing what I expect to see?” Jenn asked, staring at her glittering hands.

  “Precisely.”

  “Then who, or what, are you?” Jenn cut off the construct as it started a long string of numbers. “Explain it simply, please.”

  “I was created by 14B-Rheak to aid you. I am an artificial life-form that has been enhanced with various abilities and skills that will assist you in your service to my Master Control Program. I will be downloaded into an unused portion of your organic processing systems.”

  “Unused portion—you’re going to take over part of my brain? Is that what you mean?”

  “In a manner of thinking. The human brain cannot fully integrate with my capabilities. Therefore, I have been programmed to act as a subroutine. I will assimilate your human nature and adapt my parameters to better integrate myself with your dominant thought pattern.”

  “You’ve lost me.”

  “Not surprising, considering the primitive status of your processing capabilities.”

  “Bitch.”

  “I am exactly how I have been programmed to be. This is how 14B-Rheak thought we would best assimilate.”

  “So you’re going to control me?”

  “That is not my function. I am only able to assist your natural thought processes.”

  “You’re not gonna talk in my head all the time, are you?”

  “Only if required. I will take over primary language assimilation, thus I will be translating all that is said to you, but you will not perceive it as me ‘speaking in your head.’ I will, however, set up a synaptic relay so that you may consciously access my functions at any time you require. The format will be specifically adapted to integrate with your personality.”

  “Why am I beginning to feel like I’ve lost on this deal?” Jenn muttered.

  “Processing. Unable to verify or reject that statement.”

  “Whatever! How do I get back in my body? I can’t take this anymore.”

  “Your consciousness is currently being downloaded into this node’s buffer zone, awaiting its destination. Genetic replication systems are analyzing your pattern and attempting to construct a duplicate form right now. Per my estimates, it will take three of your Earth hours to bring the body to completion. Sufficient organic material has been collected, and all life support functions have been activated. You are very lucky, HC-63-86-H57.”

  “My name is Jenn.”

  “You are very lucky . . . Jenn.”

  “Three hours?” Jenn asked weakly.

  The red form paused. “Processing. Yes. As your Construct Assistant Level Alpha, I would advise attempting to initiate REM sleep. It will ease your transition into your new form.”

  “Sleep? Seriously, how can I even do that?”

  “I can assist you. Do you wish me to?”

  “Where am I going to be when I wake up?”

  “Processing. I have traced the signal beacon. It emanated from Station 4892-56B on planet 846-Hykeria. The marker is a unique gene planted on the fifth chromosome of a male hybrid organism. Attempting to trace further—”

  “What does that mean, computer?”

  “I am not a computer. I am your Construct Assistant Level Alpha, an artificial—”

  “OK, Construction Assistant whatever.” Jenn thought for a moment. “Can I just call you CALA or something?”

  “That will suffice, Jenn.”

  “So, what did all that mean? Where will I wake up?”

  “You wish a simple answer?”

  “Yes.”

  “Unable to comply. Insufficient data.”

  “Fuck me!” Jenn snarled.

  “Processing. Might I suggest—” the red figure began again.

  “Just put me to sleep,” Jenn sighed as she tried to close her electron eyes.

 

  The Summoning stretched through the night as the Blood Moon reappeared from behind its heavenly sister. Adana of the Wolves ran to contact the Warlord’s advisors. Matahk Khanfos, The Great Bear, finally ascended the stair and looked with wonder at the pattern of lights in the water. Deep within the source of the spring, spirits gathered the remains of Sorakare and transmuted them into golden liquor. Beneath that haze, strange forms danced to and fro like bees on the comb. Repeatedly, they scurried around a growing shadow.

  Kei held tight to the charred remnants of his torch. His firm shoulders and commanding posture echoed the shorter, but far more solid, form of The Great Bear.

  Matahk Khanfos took back the obsidian scepter and sat upon the sacred stone, but Saikain remained close. The Great Bear surveyed the scene with his remaining eye.

  “Are you sure of the signs, shaman?” The Great Bear asked, his voice gravelly and cautious.

  Sotaka stepped forward. “My lord, Grandfather would not throw his life away. These are the lights that t
he Scrolls of Nanut clearly define. First red—”

  Matahk raised a scarred, massive hand. “I do not doubt you now, for Sorakare never led us wrong. What I want to know is what we must do next.”

  “Nanut was clear. The Serif-fan will rise and immediately choose her Sora-khar, her counterpoint from the race of mankind. Once chosen, they shall be forever bound, uniting our people with the Great Spirit,” Sotaka said.

  “Has the wise woman been called?” Matahk asked.

  This time Saikain stepped forward. “Adana brings her as we speak. She will have the necessary ceremonial items.”

  Once again, the retinue waited in silence. Sotaka took a moment to look back at the stoic Kei. In the already eerie light of the room, the young hunter’s eyes had taken on a life of their own, glowing an iridescent blue. Suddenly, bubbling came from the depths of the Holy Spring.

  “What is happening?” Both Saikain and his father asked at once.

  “She rises!” Sotaka gasped.

  Over a fantastic rush of water, a pair of women ran up the stairs. No matter how old Kaschaka, the wise woman, had become, nothing short of the Lost God himself could have stayed the ancient woman’s pace.

  Adana panted as she bowed deeply before the spring. “I bring the High Priestess. Are we in time?”

  Kaschaka smiled slyly. “We are in time, child. In time to see the dawning of a new era. Look, everyone. Look upon the form of your new savior!”

 

  “Initiating download.”

  Jenn MacDonald snapped her eyes open. Flesh sunk around her—greasy, filthy, shuddering flesh. She quivered and shuddered from her head to her toes.

  “Construct Assistant Level Alpha coming online. Initiating retrovirus Rheak-1b. Stabilizing life support controls.”

  “Ahhhhhhhhhhh!” Jenn screamed. Viscous, noxious liquid rushed into her mouth, choking her all over again. She clawed at the sticky membrane surrounding her until she tore away her cocoon. Her back arched and her chest pounded. Water, air, and ichor rushed around her, defining her existence within the limits of a solid body.

  A blue light forced her to squint. She reached for the azure glow. Her body lifted as air rushed around her and filled her lungs. Clicking and grunting of all sorts filled her tender ears. Flickering visions passed by her head.

  “Help . . . me!” She gasped as she stumbled. The sudden movement made her swoon. Still, she didn’t lose sight of the beacon. “Blue . . . Blue, help me!”

  “Ag surut nach, Kei!” something grunted. “Nach, Kei!”

  “Attempting to translate local language. Please stand by.”

  “Blue . . . light . . . Kei—” she gasped as she felt the world rising to meet her. Her whole body burst into a new wave of suffering as she flopped unceremoniously on the ground.

  “System overloaded.”

 

  Jenn fluttered her eyelids as she felt gentle pressure on her stomach. Her hands shook. Sweat dripped from her brow.

  “Mikah! Come here, I think the Serif-fan is coming to,” an older voice said.

  Jenn’s eyes focused on a bizarre-looking woman. The stranger’s face was broad and strong, with thick eyebrows and a hawkish nose. Her skin was deeply tanned and her hair salt and pepper. The stranger smiled a warm, toothy smile.

  “You’re human,” Jenn said. She choked as she spoke.

  The stranger furrowed her massive brows. “What else would I be, child?”

  “Did I dream it all?”

  The stranger rested her well-worn hands on Jenn’s temples. “You had a high fever. I gave you medicine, but I fear you need more rest, Serif-fan.”

  “What did you call me? My name is Jenn.”

  “So, you are Ji-ann? I thought that poor boy might have lost his way.”

  “Yeah, I’m Jenn.”

  She tried to ease herself up but found her arms too rubbery. Before she fell, however, the old woman propped her up with a fuzzy pillow. Jenn became aware of the silky luxury of fur against her bare skin and of the purring of a cat sitting on her belly. “Where am I?”

  “Gracow City, in your temple. I am Kaschaka of the Swan. My family has served you since the time of the First Sundering.”

  “Gracow City? Am I in Europe or something? Did I hit my head?”

  “You speak strangely, Serif-fan. Then again, I would not know how you are supposed to speak.” Kaschaka turned to a younger woman by the door. “Mikah, bring me some bread and broth. The Serif-fan is weak.”

  “What happened—?”

  Kaschaka shoved the cat off Jenn’s stomach. Although it whined in protest, a quick boot from her moccasin set it scampering. The stranger then carefully brushed Jenn’s hair off her face and toweled the sweat away.

  “You are lost right now, Serif-fan, the same as any newborn child. But you will grow strong and face your destiny.” Before Jenn could interrupt, Kaschaka continued. “Now is not the time to speak of quests and great destinies, though. You need food, and rest, and time to adjust to your new form. The wound on your forehead is already healing.”

  “Wound?”

  Jenn gingerly touched the dead center of her forehead. She yelped in pain.

  “Do not attempt to disturb my input-output sensory relay, Jenn.”

  “CALA, what is this?”

  “Our interface is still forming, Jenn. Please give me time to recover. You have been equipped with an additional sensory unit for my observational purposes. This unit will also function as our medium to communicate with Rheak once we reach an adequate active terminal.”

  “I have a lump on my forehead, CALA!”

  “This sensory unit is fashioned from a seeded corundum crystal gathered from the local environment. It is both nonreactive and completely necessary to my proper functioning. Without it, you will be unable to make use of my translation abilities.”

  “This lump is what is letting me understand Kaschaka?”

  “Precisely.”

  “Are you all right, Serif-fan? You seem lost in your thoughts,” Kaschaka asked.

  “I was. Sorry.”

  Jenn studied her surroundings. She saw rustic wood furniture and piles of pelt blankets. It was the colors, however, that seemed off—the blue shone bluer, the greens greener. Even her skin looked bleached and strange. The sunlight streaming through the window had a washed-out bluish cast as well.

  “I’m not on Earth, am I?” Jenn whispered.

  “No, you are far above the earth, in the great Serif-fan Tree,” Kaschaka replied.

  “That wasn’t quite what I meant. I guess the translation isn’t perfect.”

  “All translations are modified to fit your frame of reference. Words which have no counterpoint in your own language and proper names are left in their raw state.”

  “Thank you, CALA. Shut up now, please.”

  “As you wish.”

  “Oh God, I woke up in a dark room, and there was this bright blue light calling for me. Before that I was sort of floating in a void—”

  “You speak of the spirit world, Serif-fan?”

  “What? Um, maybe, but you’ve got to understand—before that, I was a normal girl. I do drywall, for Pete’s sake! I had just come home, and ended up blasted by my roomie’s computer. Next thing I know, I wake up with people calling me a ‘Serif-fan.’ Ma’am, I honestly couldn’t even tell you what a Serif-fan is.”

  Jenn paused and cringed, but Kaschaka merely smiled and patted her bare shoulder. Jenn made the mistake of furrowing her brows in surprise and ended up collapsing back against her pillow as fresh pain from her wound shot through her skull.

  “All will come in time. No one is expected to know his or her path in the beginning, not even a Serif-fan. I will do my best to guide you. Our ancient Scrolls of Nanut tell of your coming. They say that you will be lost, as a child is lost, and that it is the job of the priestesses to guide you until you are bonded with your chosen Sora-khar. Then he
shall become your guide to our world.”

  “What?” Jenn buried her face in her hands, careful not to touch the bump growing on her face. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but I don’t understand.”

  “You do seem so young and so lost, Serif-fan. My heart hurts for you.”

  Jenn could feel the tears dribbling onto her shaking fingers. “I don’t know what to do. I didn’t want to die.” She caught herself with a hiccup. “Please, tell me what . . . what I’m supposed to do? Oh, my mom is going to be worried, and Sara—Oh God, Sara was in the room too! What if that weird rock downloaded her too? She could be dead—or worse, lost in that wicked dark place between places. Oh God! I just can’t believe this is happening!”

  She let all her tears fall, shuddering and burying herself under a pelt. Kaschaka’s steady hands rubbed Jenn’s back, and the old woman began singing softly. Jenn struggled to get a hold of herself. She fought to breathe.

  “Priestess, I have the food you requested,” a small voice said from the doorway.

  “Bring it here, child. I shall attend the Serif-fan myself. How is Lord Kei doing?”

  Jenn’s ears perked up at the mention of that name. “Did you say Kei?” she choked out.

  Kaschaka placed a steaming bowl of soup on the chest by the bed. Jenn’s stomach growled louder than her sobs.

  “My lord, Kei Zhanfos. The one you chose as your Sora-khar,” Kaschaka said as she pulled out a long spoon. “Do you not remember?”

  “Not really. I was looking for the blue light. That’s all.”

  “A blue light called to you, you say?” Kaschaka deftly served her Serif-fan her first bite of food since entering her new body. Even though Jenn’s face wrinkled up a bit at the herbaceous taste, she was too weak to protest the meal.

  “When I was in the dark place, I saw a blue light. I saw it again when I woke up. What am I eating? It tastes funny.”

  “Buffalo broth with healing herbs. You need to drink plenty of it if you want to regain your strength.”