Fight for the Future: Symbiont Wars Book III (Symbiont Wars Universe 3)

by Chogan Swan

  “We’ll set something up then,” said Ayleana.

  “Cool.”

  “I think you should hang here for a while till Jonah’s security calls with an all clear. They’ll want to make sure you get a safe ride home. You want something to eat? We can order in. I’ll buy.”

  Now that he thought about it, Kest discovered he was hungry. They agreed on Chinese food from the restaurant down the street. After Kest gave her his order, Ayleana spent several minutes on the phone discussing her part of the order, speaking Chinese with clear ease. It sounded like she was talking with several people. When she got off the phone, she said, “They’ll send the order over soon.”

  “They deliver? I didn’t know that.”

  “My aunt and I are good customers when we’re in town.” Ayleana laughed. “And she tips big. Let’s go downstairs while we wait,” she said and jumped on the banister to slide down at breakneck speed. “You’re into music right?” she called as she landed.

  “I don’t think I’ve said anything about that on the discussion threads,” Kest said.

  “Well, there you would be wrong. Because you demonstrated it when you made suggestions for some simulation music two years ago in January. You also have guitar-string calluses on your left-hand fingertips.”

  “Okay, busted. Yeah, I like music,” he said as he followed her around the stairway. But his voice stopped in his throat when he saw the room behind it. A beautiful, blonde-maple, grand piano sat overlooking a wall of windows. Next to it were several guitars on stands. Kest approached the piano with awe to run his fingers over the key lid. “Stuart and Sons? I never thought I would see one of these.”

  “Well give it a tickle,” Ayleana urged.

  Kest sat on the bench, lifted the keylid and touched the chords. The keys moved freely and smoothly, and the tone lingered with resonance. What song had he always wanted to play on something like this? He thought for a moment until one settled inside him. Without waiting or thinking, he launched into the intro for the Dickey Betts classic Jessica, hammering the base to make sure it rocked.

  “Woohoo!” shouted Ayleana, picking up the Stratocaster nearby and putting it on with practiced speed. “Alex, take the drums,” she shouted then flipped on the amp and came in on the lead guitar part just in time.

  She played it, Django Reinhardt style, the way it was intended, only using two fingers of the left hand for the fretboard. The AI followed Kest’s rhythm and dubbed the drum track from the original uncut version through the sound system. They stormed through the driving power-rock ballad anthem to Django Reinhardt, and the music grew like a hurricane. When they got to the piano solo, Kest flew through it, letting the feelings of friends and travel and all the associations tied up in the music flow out of him like a river of light. The piano’s bass notes rumbled and boomed adding all the bottom he could have hoped for, as he led them through the final ritardando.

  At the end, Ayleana whooped again. Then said, “Alex did you get a good take on that “

  “Of course,” said a voice that sounded like a ten-year-old boy’s from the ceiling speakers.

  “Well, play it back for us, I want to see if it worked with only one lead guitar.”

  Kest played an experimental riff up the keyboard. He was in love with the piano. “Can I just stay here?”

  “Dunno, Kest. Looks like you’d never give me a place at the piano. Guitar I like, but I’d miss my time with Betty, and I’d be worried she’d like you more than me.”

  Kest grinned. “I guess we could work something out, joint custody.”

  Alex, the incredibly competent AI, started their rendition of Jessica from the beginning, leaving out Ayleana’s instructions to play drums, but leaving in her whoops of encouragement.

  At the end, Ayleana grabbed his arm and pulled him over to the couch. “Ok, tell me your repertoire on the piano, then guitar and how solid you are on each one. We are going to make MUSIC! Oh, have you written anything?”

  “Yeah, most of it’s on paper, but- “

  “Doesn’t matter. We’ll get to that later.”

  “Ayleana, I’d love to play music with you, but it sounds like you have something specific in mind.”

  Ayleana nodded and paused. “Ok, I was getting ahead of myself, sorry.” She took his hand. “Kest, we are both young, and I know working for a company where we sell most of our waking hours is a habit neither of us want to pursue. We’ve talked about this online. Have you changed your mind about any of that?”

  “Hmm,” Kest said. “I realize I’m having trouble connecting a thread discussion with you as the person I’m sitting next to now. For me, it’s still like I’m just meeting you. You never told me about your personal life.”

  “No, my bad,” Ayleana sighed. “Ahead of myself again. I’m working on it. This wouldn't interfere with what Jonah wants to talk about, by the way. My idea was that we could make money selling what we are good at in an online business.”

  “It may be a good idea,” Kest said, “but Ayleana...” He waved at the condo. “You aren’t hurting for money.”

  “No, but I don’t like depending on my aunt. I mean... she’s great, but I need to branch out on my own. It’s important, but I don’t want to do it in a way that compromises my values. In this society, that means I have to do it on my own or with someone who shares the same framework. So, I get it that you don’t know me. Because when I worked for SST, I couldn’t get to know you because of the guidelines for my job. Now I’m working with them, not for them. And, even though they pay me for what I do, I can’t grow a passive income from that. Sure as hell, I will not invest what I earn in the vile stock market.”

  Kest smiled. When he was four, he’d started lessons from the best piano teachers his mother could find. Kest had loved the music, but refused to play for recitals, much to the disappointment of his teachers, but his mother had backed him. Later, she told him that it made no sense to kill the joy he had in music by tying it to something he didn’t want to do. On thinking it over, Kest decided it may have been the wisest, most beautiful present he’d ever been given. Now though, maybe it was time to branch out.

  “Ok, I get it,” he said. “Let’s leave that on the table. We can just play together, for now, and see what happens.”

  Ayleana grinned. “Don’t worry, I will knock you on your ass.”

  “Pretty sure you could do it in the roda,” he said. “So let’s see about the rest.”

  Kest ran his fingers down the keys in a glissando to start the next song.

  They hit the highlights as he worked through his favorites by type and composer: classical; romantic; modern, delving into the nuggets he enjoyed from each. Ayleana followed his progress as he switched to jazz, samba then skipped around in experimental pieces.

  After a solid sampling, he described the arrangements he liked of more popular and current music.

  “My guitar repertoire and the stuff I’ve written is either rock or jazz.”

  With a far-off expression, Ayleana tapped her fingers on the back of the couch. “Well, you sure have the chops to play anything on the piano.” She jumped up and grabbed the Stratocaster, bringing it back to the couch. “Here, just play stuff you like on this. I’ll join in when I know where you want to go.”

  Kest stood up, adjusted the strap then slid into it. He played a few scales and adjusted the tuning pegs.

  “You’re flat a touch on A,” said Ayleana.

  “I know,” Kest said. “I always drag that string down, so it tightens up when I hit the fret. It’s a flaw in my technique, and I don't do it when playing rhythm. I'm still working on it.”

  Ayleana nodded. “Not a big deal then. If you don’t mind, would you do your harder, more technical repertoire first? Play stuff you like, but show me what you can do.”

  “Okay, but I wasn’t expecting a Spanish Inquisition.”

  Ayleana laughed. “I hear nobody ever does. Now just quit your griping and play or I’ll poke you with the soft pillows.”


  Kest grinned, hit a chord, adjusted the volume, and then lit into his favorite Joe Satriani song, Always with Me, Always with You. When he started with the arpeggio intro, he noticed the AI shadowing him, so when he got to where the lead guitar came in, the supporting track was in place. He played the lead part, echoing Satriani’s clean melodic style, with just a touch of fuzz, then moved ahead to voice it in his own interpretation of the mood of the song—wistful but powerful and expressive. He continued with Circles from the same album then moved on to Crazy Joey from Shockwave Supernova. Alex brought in the drums and rhythm so he could focus on the lead.

  “Ok, Alex,” said Ayleana. “Let him take the rest alone. We know you’re good; now let me concentrate on him.”

  Kest smiled and continued. Alex—AI or not—was the best backup band he’d ever heard. Kest hit parts of songs from Steve Morse to Jimi Hendrix. After that, he did interpretations of songs from everywhere, from Alternative bands like Nirvana to New Jazz groups like Snarky Puppy.

  He glanced up at Ayleana and raised an eyebrow to say, “Enough?”

  “Yeah,” she answered him aloud. “I was just enjoying your performance. You had me at Spanish Inquisition. Let’s play something together,” Ayleana said. “Take Five?”

  “Why? Are you tired already?”

  “Pendejo. Don’t make jokes about Dave Brubeck! You take piano first. After your piano solo, we’ll switch guitar and piano with a handoff.”

  “After my drum solo, you mean,” Alex’s voice came from the ceiling.

  “Okay,” Ayleana said, “but you have to keep it under three minutes this time.”

  “Humph!” said Alex.

  Kest shook his head. Alex had passed the Turing test with flying colors as far as he was concerned. His estimation of the computing ability at SST—already high—had become stratospheric.

  As Kest sat at the piano, the doorbell rang.

  “It’s Hwei Yu with your supper,” Alex announced.

  Kest stood up again, looking toward the door. Just the mention of food made his mouth water.

  “All right, all right,” Ayleana said with a sigh. “Boys, always thinkin’ ‘bout they stomachs,” she said, putting the guitar down and gliding to the door where she greeted the girl there with a flurry of Mandarin. As they exchanged good-natured remarks, Ayleana replied to a question, and the girl giggled, glancing at Kest. Ayleana grinned, stuffed money in her hand and shooed her out the door.

  Kest opened his order of ‘golden mountain’ and used the chopsticks to shovel it into his mouth. “This stuff is as addictive as crack,” he confessed between bites.

  Ayleana smiled without opening her mouth as she chewed what looked like dark green kelp leaves from her own box.

  “What’s yours?” he asked.

  Ayleana said the name of the dish in Mandarin and smirked at him.

  “What is that in English?”

  “Kelp leaves,” she said.

  “That’s what I thought.”

  “Don’t you want some of this too?” she said, innocence dripping off her tongue.

  “No, and you aren’t getting any of my crack mountain either.”

  With a lightning-fast flick, her hand darted to his chopsticks. Then, she held her pointer finger out to him where the one golden grain of rice she’d taken sat like a trophy.

  Kest looked down his nose at it. “Very well, you can have that one,” he condescended.

  With casual ease, she transferred it to the next fingertip over and rotated her hand.

  Kest grinned. “Maybe we should see how good you are at Brazilian Jiu-jitsu,” he mused.

  She shrugged.

  Kest put his empty box on the counter.

  “Now sweetie, you don’t want to be starting something like that after eating so fast,” she said.

  Kest stood.

  Ayleana put down her food. “You’d have to catch me to find out, and you don’t have a prayer at that.”

  “So, a game of tag then, eh?”

  She grinned. “Go for it.”

  Kest feinted a touch toward her with his left, following with a right-hand sweep to catch her as she reacted.

  She avoided both with casual speed.

  Interested now to see how fast she was, Kest made a series of darting lunges like a fencer.

  Ayleana giggled, avoiding every move then vaulted the couch and streaked up the stairs with Kest in pursuit.

  After a few minutes of chasing her around the garden containers, Kest’s phone rang with his mom’s ringtone. He pulled it out of his pocket and hit the answer icon. “Hi mom,” he said, panting.

  “Kest, where are you? Something came on the news about a shooting at the university, and I was worried.”

  “I’m at a friend’s house, mom. I’m okay.”

  “Why are you breathing so hard?”

  “Umm, I was chasing a girl?”

  Ayleana giggled.

  “Kest! “

  “Relax, Mom. It’s like a parkour thing.”

  “Can you tell me where you are so Daniel can come get you?”

  Ayleana stepped up to Kest’s ear where he was holding the phone and said. “That’s okay, Ms. Avsar, my older brother will drive him home. He’s very responsible.”

  “Oh, thank you— “

  “He’ll be there soon.”

  “I’ll see you soon, Mom.” Kest disconnected and leaned against the post that held up the screen that shaded the garden and the circle. The lights of the city spread out like a garden of stars; he’d almost forgotten about the earlier event at the theater.

  “I’ll get your clothes for you,” Ayleana said.

  “Ayleana,” said Alex from the ceiling. “I messaged Sergeant Daniels to come around with a car.”

  “I told his mom it would be someone responsible,” Ayleana protested.

  “Staff Sergeant Daniel’s combat-mission reliability is well-documented,” said Alex.

  “That was when he was in the military. I’ll have to go with them to make sure he stays in shouting distance of the speed limit,” she muttered, heading back to the stairs.

  After another few seconds of contemplating the lights of the city, Kest followed her.

  Ayleana brought his clothes back, still hot from the dryer, and in a few minutes, they were on their way to Kest’s house with the reliable Staff Sergeant Daniels.

  “Thank you again for having my back tonight,” Ayleana said, hugging him hard when they pulled into the driveway. “It’s good to know I can trust you. Can I talk to you tomorrow, so we can arrange the talk with Jonah?”

  “Sure,” Kest said, returning the hug. “I know it’s not a contest, but thank you for your help earlier today too.” He took a deep breath.

  She brushed his arm with her fingers. A tingle like electricity followed her touch. “You’ll be fine. Have some chocolate; it’s supposed to work well against dementors.”

  Kest chuckled. “And plenty of other things,” he said, climbing out of the car. His mom waited at the door, and Kest trotted up the steps to the porch.

  Daniels backed out of the drive and, with a toot of his horn, left the neighborhood at a speed well within shouting distance of the speed limit. Kest went inside, prepared to disavow any knowledge of what had happened at the theater.

  When his head finally hit the pillow that night, he was thankful he was so exhausted.

  Chapter 7 — Brave New World

  As tired as he was, Kest woke early after a night of strange dreams.

  The dreams had started with him in the SST chat rooms. Except, the chat rooms were real rooms instead of conversation threads. The people had hats, t-shirts or costumes that identified them. At times, he spotted Ayleana wearing a robe of black feathers...

  Nightowl/Nighthawk.

  The people in the room were talking about the incident three years ago in Maryland and the mysterious disappearances. They all spoke while glancing over their shoulders at Ayleana then people started vanishing.

&n
bsp; Soon he and Ayleana were the only ones left, and—though they talked with comfort—her appearance changed each time he looked at her. Her hands and arms moved at peculiar angles and her fingers waved like the fronds of an anemone. The room darkened, and he heard her body changing, but he couldn’t see.

  The feeling of relief when he woke eroded the more he considered the dream. Events from last night paraded before his mind’s eye: Ayleana’s incredible speed, her flexibility when she wrapped the shooter with her legs, the half-gloves that covered her hands to the knuckles, her ability to snap up a grain of rice and move it from the tip of her forefinger to the tip of her middle finger.

  Kest tried to mimic that, but it required not only a high level of double jointing, but side-to-side finger movement too. More information marched through his memory, he considered the baggy harem pants that concealed much, but—when they brushed her body—what showed beneath wasn’t always what he expected.

  Sound drifted to him. His mom was in the kitchen, moving around and talking to someone. A moment later, she tapped at his door. “Kest, are you decent? One of your capoeira friends is here to see you. Shall I let her in?”

  Several friends from the roda had texted him about meeting today. It was probably Calypso, so of course she should come in the house. “Yeah,” he said and slid to the floor, looking for his t-shirt.

  The door opened, and Ayleana and his mom stood in the hall staring at him in his pajama bottoms and no shirt.

  “So you didn't mean let her in the house?” Kest said, sliding his arms into his shirt.

  His mom shook her head, put her hand over her eyes and went back down the hall to the kitchen.

  Ayleana stepped in and closed the door.

  Kest looked at her, his eyes flickering to her hands, still gloved. “Mom might freak out if she comes back to find the door shut.”

  Ayleana snorted. “Seriously? She thinks I’m like ten years old.”

  “Is that one of your powers?” said Kest. “You can read minds?”

  Ayleana’s face became still. After a moment, she spoke. “No, I’m not a super being from Krypton. But mothers have a certain tone of voice and exude a distinctive odor when they interact with someone they perceive to be a pre-pubescent female.”