To Beat the Devil (The Technomancer Novels Book 1)

by M. K. Gibson

  “One issue at a time,” Grimm said, and I knew he was right. “With the use of these machines, the dark rite forcibly strips away a soul and transfers it to a demonic host. This one has been altered in some way that allows for a slower drain. The people contained in here are losing their souls a fraction at a time. Since they are not out living their lives, there is no chance for it to grow back. They are a food source. Cattle to be slaughtered.”

  I let Grimm’s words rattle around in my head for a while. These poor bastards.

  Grimm crossed his arms and began studying the machine. He opened a service panel and after a moment he swore. “Damn it.”

  “What?” I asked.

  Grimm called up a small ball of light. “Look at the circuit board.” I knelt down and looked inside. The Denochian symbols were hard wired into the board itself. Someone had found a way to fuse technology and magic.

  True technomancy.

  That did not bode well for any future. The one thing humans had on demons was their ability to create and build new technology. But now, this was proof that the two were no longer exclusive. Damn it, indeed.

  I looked up at Grimm. “What are we going to do for these people?” I asked in earnest. They were being slowly consumed.

  “Can you get into that supercomputer? See if you can get it to release them?”

  “I tried. But the system is too good. I can’t hack into it. I don’t know of another way in.”

  “Could you not use your nanite Collective? Surely it has the power and ability to break the system? Please do not look shocked. I am old, not inept. T explained to me he was able to commune with the Collective and he gave me a thorough synopsis of its capabilities.”

  I was indeed a little shocked. I had to give Grimm credit; I assumed because of his age that technology was something beyond him. If he truly was that old, then he bore witness to medicine, steam power, electricity, the car, the atom bomb, microchips, the internet, the Ultra Net, and every other invention mankind had produced. I figured he couldn’t program a remote control.

  But the real issue was keeping the conscious firewall between the Collective and my brain functions. We had a deal—they ran the passive stuff and I ran my life and provided them a home. They were genetically keyed to my DNA so they could never be replicated in another.

  However, giving the Collective access now may set a precedent. They may not agree to going back to being Santa’s elves once they have been in the driver’s seat, to use a mixed metaphor. I looked at the DRAGON XV and knew I didn’t have a chance by myself.

  Damn it.

  I opened the access terminal on my tech bracer and ran a neuro trace route on myself. Normally I would use a standalone single-link terminal to access the Collective, but since T found a way to use the wireless port in my head, probably a back door in my tachyon burst sub routines, then he probably left a digital fingerprint that showed the path. All I had to do was establish a semi-permanent link with a pre-planned decay time sufficient for the Collective to do their thing. That way, if they took over, the decay port would close them out. Hopefully.

  Grimm crossed his arms and watched me. “You are going to attempt it then?”

  “Yeah. Listen, I don’t like the thought of the collective mind of millions of nano machines and billions of yocto-bots having access. You ever heard of sky-net or The Matrix? They were programmed to make their host as perfect as possible, while obeying Asimov-style rules. And they did. But what if their idea of “perfect” is me drooling safely in a closet pissing myself in order to keep their known universe safe?” I knew I was being nervous, but I figured I had a right to be.

  Once I finished the connection, I felt the intense connection of my conscious mind touch The Collective in a way I had never felt before. The buffer of the special terminal allowed our conversations to be cordial with all the manners of a phone call. This—this was personal and intimate contact with myself. It was me really speaking to me at the speed of thought. I hoped the rest of me couldn’t talk; I would hate it if my liver let me know I should be cooling it on the whiskey, or else.

  //Greetings Host// I felt the collective send.

  Greetings Collective.

  //You have initiated direct contact - Preemptive Statement: when Collective made repeated requests for direct contact the aforementioned requests were met BY HOST with decisive declination - Query: Why?//

  Well, because I didn’t know what your intentions were if you could reach me directly.

  //Elaborate//

  I was scared you may try and take over. I am my own self, and I wish to keep it that way.

  //CONTINUED QUERY: WHY CONTACT COLLECTIVE DIRECTLY NOW//

  Because I need you to hack a supercomputer and get me root access.

  //WHY//

  Because I need to try and save people.

  //UNDERSTOOD - COLLECTIVE REQUESTS FUTURE CONTACT WITH HOST - QUERY: WILL HOST ALLOW COLLECTIVE LIMITED ACCESS TO HOST IF COLLECTIVE ENABLES HOST ACCESS TO FOREIGN COMPUTER//

  Damn it. The Collective was trying to strike a deal. The Nano machines were in their own way aware of themselves and wished to experience the world. My father taught me long ago they would never directly harm me, or allow me to be harmed. But I didn’t need them riding shotgun in my mind. It was bad enough my parents could. It made one-night stands awkward enough when mid-act my father would ask about the location of a tool or my mother would recommend a book she just read.

  Or worse, a new kinky position. Yuck.

  Maybe I could allow the Collective access, but on my terms.

  Collective, I will allow you limited access. You may not address me directly unless I address you directly first. The exception would be if my life or the lives of those I call ally are in mortal peril. You may experience my experiences; however, at no time now or ever are you to attempt to take control away from me. Do we have an accord?

  //UNDERSTOOD HOST - ACCORD ACCEPTED - DECLARATIVE STATEMENT: COLLECTIVE DOES NOT WISH TO DOMINATE HOST - COLLECTIVE WAS CREATED TO ENHANCE HOST TO HOST’S FULLEST POTENTIAL – CREATOR ABRAHAM DESIGNED COLLECTIVE TO SUPPORT ONLY//

  Yeah, that’s what all the machines say in the movies right before they go all ‘Kill All Humans.’

  //HUMOROUS METAPHOR RECEIVED - COLLECTIVE ENJOYED THE MATRIX - HUMOROUS STATEMENT: HOST SHOULD NOT TAKE RED PILL//

  I laughed a short bark. Did my nano machine hive-mind cyborg system just make a joke? I turned to Grimm and nodded. “I made contact and the Collective is willing to help.”

  “That fast?” he asked.

  “Speed of thought, brother.” I pulled up the holo terminal again on my bracer and began the hack program. This time, I informed the Collective directly, along the new neural pathways we had just built.

  //COLLECTIVE WILL BEGIN BYPASS OF DRAGON XV FIREWALLS - WARNING: HOST MAY EXPERIENCE DISCOMFORT//

  Before I could ask what the Collective meant, my mind was assaulted and the pain dropped me to my knees.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Paul Goddamn Atreides

  I could hear Grimm asking if I was all right, but he sounded miles away. I held up my hand for him to stand back. I felt the ebb and flow as the tide of the Collective’s will and computing power flooded through my own personal wireless burst transmitter in my head into the tech bracers and created the bridge to the DRAGON XV. I felt nails in my eyes and spikes in my ears. The movies had it wrong: Hacking a computer wasn’t a virtual reality battle of shapes and avatars. It wasn’t Tron; it wasn’t Johnny Mnemonic. Despite their awesomeness, they were just movies.

  My senses shut down. At least my physical ones. What I interpreted was pain and intrusion. The Collective invaded the DRAGON. The DRAGON fought back, shutting down the Collective’s attempt while trying to counterattack and invade the Collective and thereby, me. I felt and saw light and hate and acceleration. It was something no human mind could really perceive.

  Digital synesthesia.

  Attack and riposte. I could feel each dig
ital strike, surgical and precise. The DRAGON was relentless and perfect in its defense. It was a blind zen master, knowing the attack before it ever came and blocking and countering with perfect ease. It was designed to outsmart any computer attack.

  However, the Collective wasn’t just a computer. The Collective was a synthetic life form, a hive-minded AI designed to perfect a human body while mimicking and enhancing the brain. The DRAGON was a top-of-the-line supercomputer, capable of over 50 million computer instructions per second. The average human brain was capable of 100 million. The Collective could use my own brain as the raw power it needed. It was only a matter of time.

  Soon, I felt the pain and sensory overload recede. The Collective was winning. And in that moment, I felt it. I was at the core of the DRAGON. And, at the core of it, I felt the DRAGON response: violation. I had never thought of a hack as such.

  An outside entity demanding to be at the very center of something else. Because it could, because it had to power to take. It felt wrong somehow. I felt the DRAGON resist and the Collective push harder, not taking no as an answer. It was a digital rape, and I felt shame.

  Before I knew it, I saw everything. I saw the DRAGON’s programming and what it was meant to do. I saw at the center of it the essence of a human mind—a weak one, but a mind nonetheless. I knew its mission. The mind spoke one sentence before the contact was broken. And then, blissful silence.

  Slowly, I could perceive time and space again. Grimm stood over me and tried to help me up. My legs were wobbly, and I could barely stand. I felt like I had gone through a digital hell. Grimm helped me to my feet and had to hold me because I couldn’t support myself. The world swayed and I reached my hand out to steady myself. Grimm leaned me against one of the racks of soul-draining machines. I reached for a smoke and lit it.

  “We will destroy it all. Hail the mark,” I said absently. Grimm gripped my shoulder and leaned down to eye level with me.

  “What did you say?” I could sense the gravity in his question, but my mind was still a blurry mess.

  “It was what I heard the spirit in the machine say before the Collective destroyed it. There was something almost living in there. Like…like it was T or my parents. Echoes of a digital mind.” My eyes were still kind of closed, but I heard Grimm exhale deeply. I could tell that meant something to him. But I also knew from my time with him that he wouldn’t speak about it until he was ready.

  My heart grew heavy quickly. As my head cleared, more of the hack settled into my head, and I knew the horrible truth of our situation. Before I could inform Grimm, my holo-terminal began to flash.

  *AWAITING COMMAND* The DRAGON XV’s prompt read.

  //ATTENTION HOST: FOREIGN AI HAS BEEN SLAVED TO COLLECTIVE//

  Thank you, Collective. I can take it from here. You will now retreat from direct contact per agreement?

  //AGREEMENT HONORED - COLLECTIVE WILL MONITOR ONLY, UNLESS HOST CONTACTS DIRECTLY, OR UNLESS COLLECTIVE PERCEIVES MORTAL DANGER TO HOST AND HOSTS ALLIES. COLLECTIVE WILL CONTINUE TO FUNCTION PER ORIGINAL PROGRAMMING AND SPECIFIED DUTIES - BE WELL HOST//

  At that, I felt The Collective retreat back into my mind. I could sense its presence, an alien set of eyes over my shoulder. It was both comforting and unsettling.

  “We have a problem,” I said as I finished my smoke. I flicked the butt randomly off in the dark room and lit another. “A big problem.”

  “Yes?”

  “The people. We can’t save them.” I felt nauseous. One hundred thousand people. People who had been pulled off the street with their only crime being they had a full rich life and soul to match. Ethereal food for demonic appetites.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, when the Collective was inside the DRAGON, I saw the fail-safes. The people are basically only kept alive by the DRAGON. There is no way to free them. They have been operated on and dissected to the point where if we remove them, or shut down the machine, then they will die.”

  “I do not see the issue.” Grimm’s cold response sobered me up. I stood up and got uncomfortably close to him. Right into that personal zone that usually elicits fight or flight. Grimm did neither. He stood his ground and leaned in, the brim of his hat millimeters from my face.

  “That is the demonic fail-safe. Humans would not want to kill other humans, especially not on that scale; therefore, the demons keep their food.”

  I leaned in closer, bending the brim of his hat. “You going to tell me some line of shit that they are dead already and we are helping them in the grand scheme of things?”

  “Precisely.” Grimm was steel. Solid and unbending.

  And deep down I knew he was right. It was a kick in the balls. I knew there was no way to save them. And by freeing them, we would rob Abraxas of his power. “If we kill them, what will happen to their souls?”

  “I do not know. Not for sure, anyway. I believe that they will find new vessels; new babies being born will possess some. Those in desperate ways will gain pieces. The lives they inhabit will be richer and fuller. The numbers here may seem like many, but in truth it is just a drop in the ocean. However, every drop counts.” Grimm backed away, putting space between us. He knew it was for the best.

  I nodded silently. His words were true, and I knew it. A minute or two ticked by without either one of us speaking. I knew what had to be done, but I could not find the strength. After another minute, Grimm broke the silence.

  “I will do it. My soul is already tainted with the blood of innocents. The needs of the many—”

  “Outweigh the needs of the few. Or the one.” I finished the famous Star Trek: Wrath of Khan quote. “I appreciate the gesture, but you can’t do it. The DRAGON is now linked to my gear, and my gear only works through my genetic link.” The knot I had in my stomach had doubled. “Just give me a moment.”

  “Certainly. However, please bear in mind, every second wasted makes Abraxas and his followers stronger.”

  I snapped a harsh look at Grimm. I did not need to be rushed into committing mass murder. He raised his hands palms up in a sign of surrender and took a step back. I took out another smoke from my emergency supply, put it between my lips, and fished out the matches. I struck the head of the match against the machine and it burst into a little flame. I lit the smoke and let myself zen out.

  Before that moment, I had done some horrible things. None of which seemed that bad in comparison to what I was about to do. This was something you couldn’t laugh off. This was something you couldn’t drink away. This was something after which you’d tell yourself every day, “You did the right thing,” but deep down you’d know you might have been able to do more if you had been smarter, or better, or better prepared.

  “I am sorry,” I whispered. “I am so sorry. I don’t know what happens now when you die. God closed the gates. Maybe you will be reborn as someone nice. Maybe the world will get better. Maybe you will become a great leader and bring down the demons and we can all lead happier lives. I wish I knew the future, goddamn it, I wish I did.” I hung my head and felt the tears at the corners of my eyes.

  Damn it. I hadn’t cried in over fifty years and now it seemed like I was bawling every other minute. In those moments though, there was the simple truth: When things were truly real to the soul, tears were warranted. Before now, before Grimm, before all this, I was asleep. Now I was Paul Goddamn Atreides.

  I whispered to the bodies in the machines. “I wish I knew if things were going to be better when your souls are reborn. I wish I knew if the lives you will be entering are better than the ones you are leaving. I hope you don’t hate me. I understand if you do. But we can’t let you go on this way. Your suffering makes them stronger. And if we ever want a better world, it has to start here.” I pulled up the holo-terminal and started the mass shutdown sequence.

  “I promise I will try and make it a better world. I—I am sorry.” I pressed the glowing “EXECUTE” icon. Thirty floors of machinery stopped. One hundred thousand people died in moments.
The flow of souls to Archduke Abraxas stopped.

  And I wept while I smoked my last cigarette.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Slurp My Backwash

  Father Grimm stood beside me not saying a word. I felt his presence, which meant he was allowing me to. It was his way of showing me he cared, his way to reach out to me. From what I’d learned of him, Grimm had killed many people in his long life. Something tells me he never killed that many people at once, no matter what the motive. I knew what I did was needed. I knew those people were already dead. I knew I was freeing them and their immortal souls.

  Still felt like I was kicked in the balls. Hard.

  I reached for a smoke out of habit, and I forgot I’d smoked my last one. Great. I was going to get real grumpy real fast. Grimm then produced a pack of the newer synthetic smokes, cigarettes made in the modern age that were supposed to be tobacco genetically grown to simulate the classics. They were OK, but any smoker knew the difference. I accepted them with a nod of thanks and lit one up. Synthetic menthol. Mmm, now I was in flavor country. I looked at the smoke and then Grimm. He shrugged.

  “You had to run out sooner or later. I determined it was best to be prepared.”

  “Sound logic,” I responded, taking a drag. “You know, there will be some sort of alarm somewhere notifying security. Abraxas will have to know that the system is shut down.”

  Grimm nodded.

  “Well, we can’t sit here and wait,” I said. “We need to make our way back up through the citadel. Make sure Cat and the survivors are OK. And we need to stall until either Maz or Kuma follows through with their part of the plan.” I stood up again and made my way back over to the computer terminal where we first came in. Grimm followed as I reached the terminal and logged my way back in. I was scanning the security plans and schematics for the building and the citadel.

  “I recommend we cause as much havoc as possible. Keep the security busy and troops decentralized,” Grimm said.