by Tobias Wade
“I have other things I need to be doing right now,” Hallum replied impatiently. “The more time we spend discussing the problems, the less time I spend actually solving them. And even if there weren’t any problems, then is it even a committee if you don’t provide your own supply?”
Hallum studied the shadows to perceive how his retort had been received. It felt like sticking a toe in the water to test the temperature, only to pull back and realize a shark had taken off the whole foot. He should have at least earned a smirk out of the cynical Malberry, but the ponderous figure only wrung his hands anxiously over the paperwork spread before the panel. It wasn’t like them to be so worked up over the death of a few innocents.
“The virus,” Nullenbur said gravely. “It has not been destroyed.”
“It’s been neutralized, to an extent,” Hallum insisted.
“It’s gotten out,” Wilmanhall said in exasperation, her angry red wig on full display. “I don’t know what stunt you pulled with your programmers, but if I didn’t know better, I’d say the virus has begun to retaliate.”
Hallum winced. “Draith hasn’t gotten out, exactly. And even if it had, it wasn’t my fault. And even if it was, then it’s not as bad as you’re perceiving it to be, and if even that isn’t true either, then may I say the color red has not served its purpose until it has graced your hair. What a delightful result.”
No smile. Not even a crack. Hallum found sudden sympathy for how the Masks under his supervision must feel most days of the week.
“There were rolling network blackouts all through the Nora and Casum districts this morning,” Nullbenbur said accusingly. “Equipment has been malfunctioning all over Pria, and they’re tracing it back to the Humanist servers. Not only have you failed to destroy it, but now your virus has started retaliating.”
“A virus, yes, but I wouldn’t call it my virus. And I wouldn’t call it a retaliation either, because as far as I can tell, Draith isn’t causing any intentional damage.”
“What the hell are you on about?” Nullenbur interrogated. “As much as I’d like to know how a virus can intend anything, how did it get out at all?”
“I was betrayed.” Hallum let the words hang in the air like a circling vulture as he studied Malberry shift in his seat. Perhaps jiggling is the thing he was doing.
“In order to remove the virus, I plugged in a Cyber from the Morolox Energy company. It would appear that once she scanned Draith, her Cyber components connected to the network where she attempted to transfer her findings back to Gamber Halzey. She isn’t the only one who received it though; as soon as the virus hit the network, it started replicating itself everywhere. The element responsible for Draith’s consciousness was too complex to transfer via the network, however, which is why I believe the virus remains unaware of anything outside the simulation.”
“I don’t follow.”
“Of course not, you’re a leader,” Hallum continued. “Well you can think of it like this: the virus spreading through our networks is like the body, while Draith within my simulation is the mind. The damage caused is purely the body in pain and lashing out. Draith was wounded by the antivirus, he’s taking it out on the network. It is vitally important that I am allowed to resume my work and ensure Draith’s consciousness doesn’t realize there is a higher level reality outside my simulation.”
“He’s just making excuses.” Malberry walrus huffed to Nullenbur, then jutted his finger toward Hallum, adding: “It was your responsibility to deal with the virus, and any damage it causes is completely your fault. And stop trying to shift the blame on Draith, as if we’re stupid enough to blame the program instead of the one overseeing it. Even calling the thing Draith is bad enough, but words like consciousness are just crossing the line. It makes the thing feel so human.”
“My apologies, I didn’t mean to infer humanity and it were on a level playing field. If we’re ever going to catch up though, I had best get to work.” Hallum began to stand.
“Sit down, Senator Hallum,” Nullenbur said threateningly. “We know you ordered Amore not to destroy the remaining egg when she had the chance.”
Hallum glared at Malberry again, who hung his head over the paperwork that he couldn’t possibly be reading in the dim light. Hallum was sure of it now: Amore wasn’t the only the one going behind his back to report to Gamber.
“And it’s a good thing I did, lest ruin follow,” Hallum replied, cooler than a snowman in space. “It would have been foolish to destroy the virus before we’ve purged the rest of the network, unless you want Draith to take the whole thing down with him.”
This defense was absurd, of course, but that wouldn’t be an issue considering how much conviction he put into his voice. He’d first ordered Amore not to destroy Draith even before she scanned it into the network, but he could use that to his advantage to buy some time. It was still certainly more convenient to offer this explanation, compared with something true like: ‘I did it for the good of humanity’. If humans really knew what they were doing, they wouldn’t have designed a system where the incentive to be moral is so often political malpractice.
“I told you he wasn’t being responsible,” Malberry whined. “You know what I would have done, Senator Nullenbur? I would have unplugged the whole system the moment I found out how dangerous this thing was. I wouldn’t have put the network in danger, not on my life.”
“Not possible, without risking the lives of the remaining eighteen prisoners,” Hallum cautioned.
“I know first hand that the populace would vote for a murderer over someone who turned off the internet,” Malberry said. “And since you like to boast about the stats of your program, try this out for size: Do you know the recidivism rate for dead prisoners? Close to zero, I would imagine.”
“Not quite, actually,” Senator Wilmanhall interjected. “Back taxes, continuing to receive payments while no longer eligible, failing to file their funeral permit correctly—dead people break the law all the time, really.”
“Entirely besides the point,” Malberry dismissed. “I’m saying eighteen deaths aren’t such a big deal. We’d lose more than that just from home renovation projects if people couldn’t connect to the network. Can you imagine those idiots thrusting a power drill around without proper instruction? A disaster waiting to happen, and that’s just the tip of the iceberg.”
“You don’t really mean for them to be executed,” Hallum said. “I trust you remember that Gamber’s precious daughter is one of the prisoners. How do you think next quarter’s fundraiser will go after that?”
“I don’t know what you’re insinuating.” Malberry coughed like a bird. “I would never put my personal prospects above the safety of my Pria. Come now, Nullenbur, appoint me to supervise block D14, and your only worry will be a bit of brain on the walls. You know how people passed the time before the network, don’t you? Riots, murders, barbecues right in the middle of the street. All without permits! We must act now to prevent this lawless wasteland.”
“You don’t know the first thing about the depth of my simulation—” Hallum began, silenced by one of Nullenbur’s crusty old claws scouring the air.
“Enough!” Nullenbur rasped. “Malberry, you’re in. Hallum, out. The next thing I want to hear about this damned simulation is how well it has been converted into a virtual pleasure island. That would be a better use of the technology, don’t you think?”
“Oh yes, I’ll support that,” Wilmanhall chimed in. “With chocolate that you can taste, but won’t need to be sucked out through a tube later.”
“Or endless cocktails without needing a new liver every few years,” Nullenbur added thoughtfully.
“I’m doing serious work here,” Hallum protested. “I don’t see how prisoners can pay their debt with—”
“Done and done,” Malberry interrupted. “That’s the first thing I’ll do after I’ve polished off this virus. I’ll even throw in some soft young virtual women who will never ask if you’re married.”
“I’ll remind the committee that my time is limited…” Hallum prodded in vain.
“Watch how easy this is,” Malberry said, his finger tracing the back of his ear. “Hello, IT department? Shut it down, shut it all down. That’s right, all the cords. The big black one, the little green ones, those pronged ones that you have to unscrew, yank them all right out… oh I see. I didn’t realize your union doesn’t permit any yanking. Well who do you think allows unions? Never mind, never mind, I’ll do it myself once I get down there. In the meantime, have that pretty young thing destroy Draith for good. If that doesn’t work, then pop goes the… do you think the prisoner’s union has anything against them popping?”
“Nullenbur, do something!” Hallum pleaded, hating the desperation in his voice. “I’ve already tried unplugging them from the Galactic Express, that’s what killed Eisen in the first place! Draith is the only thing keeping the virus in the network in check. We can’t attack him without risking disaster across Pria. You have to let me purge the network first, and then let me isolate Draith where he can’t do any more damage. All Malberry will achieve is to wake Draith from the simulation and turn him against us. Please, I just need a little more time.”
Hallum’s pride would forgive him for begging like this in time, but the guilt of not having tried would no doubt outlast him. He surprised himself by how strongly he felt about the matter, but he couldn’t spend all day watching these prisoners live their lives without feeling a certain camaraderie with them. It would be like watching all the characters of a favorite television show being lined up and executed on the screen.
“Don’t ask me, Malberry is the one in charge now,” Nullenbur replied dispassionately. “My only suggestion is not to name the thing pleasure island when you’re finished. I have it on good authority that the budget of anything labeled ‘Cyber Security’ never gets checked. It’s actually Senator Cyber overseeing that department, and he still thinks the whole thing is about protecting him. Come to think of it, we probably should have invited Senator Cyber to this hearing. Does anyone know—oh never mind, we’ll just tell him he was here, he’ll believe us.”
Senator Hallum stormed from the room, not waiting to be dismissed this time. He may not have the authority anymore, but he liked his chances of beating Malberry to a foot race. He had to get back to the prison before Amore received orders to destroy Draith. Hallum could still save the prisoners and safely isolate the virus. He could still capture his genie in a bottle. His fantasy for harnessing the unlimited potential of this code had not yet died. As long as he got there first.
“If it’s all just a simulation, then do you think anyone could take a turn at being the soft young women? I’m asking for a friend, of course,” Nullenbur considered soberly. “Senator Hallum? Where are you going, so soon? We’ve only just got to the most important part of the hearing.”
“Yes Senator Malberry, I understand,” Amore replied.
“I understand,” echoed Draith. The child was trying to crawl around the chamber, but he couldn’t get very far on account of the vine leash tethered around his neck. It’s amazing how much easier it is to be a parent with a leash.
“And you’re sure I’ll be able to log off after that?” she asked.
Amore checked the door for the third time. The electronic lock still read E04, the broken gadget offering no privacy. The sleeping pod chamber wasn’t an ideal place for a covert conversation, but there weren’t that many structurally sound rooms left on the Galactic Express. Amore listened for the sounds of the electric drill to start again on the other side of the ship. Sali had been reconstructing nonstop ever since they docked, and Amore failed to imagine anyone less fortunate than herself for having to listen to the incessant work.
“He’s just so…” Amore’s voice trailed off. She watched Draith standing unsteadily on his feet, overbalancing, and then falling to float gracefully through the air. It was particularly odd considering the artificial gravity was still functioning. The occasional radiant octopus patterns flickered across his deceptively human skin. Amore pulled sharply on his leash, bringing the boy back down to the ground.
“No, it’s nothing,” Amore added thoughtfully. “It’s just a shame, that’s all. I’ve really never seen anything quite like him. Okay, I’m going to do it. This will only take a moment.”
The light had already begun to pool around Amore’s hands. Draith whimpered, straining on his leash as he leapt off the ground once more. He hadn’t pulled that hard, but the vine still snapped in half, smoldering in the middle as though the oxygen around it had spontaneously combusted. Draith’s yellow eyes narrowed, and he snarled to reveal all those needle-sharp teeth. Amore thrust her glowing hands before her, driving the boy into the corner of the room.
“It’s stupid to feel sorry for a bit of code,” she said to herself. The light in Amore’s hands grew stronger as she advanced on the cowering child. “You’re just pretending to be a person, isn’t that right Draith? You’re just a CGI effect, or a monster in a video game that people shoot for fun. Senator Malberry is right: we should just get this over with.”
The light crackled in the air, probing through the space toward Draith in ever expanding arcs. The atmosphere became heavier as a dense fog began to permeate the room. The fog was scattering the light and causing the whole thing to glow with an inner life.
“Oh yeah? What if I just grab you then?” Amore clenched her teeth, charging through the fog and flailing her radiant hands toward Draith.
“Don’t take my body!” Draith howled, bounding through the air to cower in the corner of the room.
“Hey what’s going on in there?”
The unlocked door snapped open, banging the steel wall behind. Sali saw Amore and Draith facing off. She decided to brandish her drill in Amore’s direction, finding her marginally less trustworthy than a mysterious alien who had already killed the entire village. Amore didn’t stop though—she caught hold of Draith by the ankle just as he was about to fly off again. The light exploded on contact, bursting into a soft rain of sparks which dissipated harmless in the air. Amore frowned and thrust her hands forward again, this time not even producing the smallest spark of light. There was a sound instead: an ugly, slurping gulp like the last of the ketchup had runout. Amore put her hands down quickly, unwilling to risk producing such an unflattering sound again except in the most dire of situations.
“The little beast tried to bite me!” Amore lied, pointing at the child. “Your Crystal Goddess demands another sacrifice! No questions allowed!”
Draith slowly lowered his trembling hands, confusion and terror evident upon his small features.
“Out of power?” Sali asked, lowering the drill. “So Senator Malberry is the one who has been giving you orders, is that right?”
“You couldn’t have possibly heard—something I didn’t say,” Amore finished lamely. Her composure was shattered with her power though, and Draith’s slightest move in her direction sent her backpedaling against the wall. “Elden! I’m being attacked! Why aren’t you helping me?”
“Coming, my love!”
“I know Senator Malberry,” Sali said, lifting the drill once more and giving it a few warning buzzes. “Malberry is one of my mother’s pets. Is he nearby? How have you been communicating with him?”
“I’m trying to save you too, you stupid, ungrateful girl,” Amore hissed. “We’re all going to get home if you just…” her voice trailed off, as though she was listening to something only she could hear.
“Is that what he promised you?” Sali asked urgently, distracted by the footsteps in the metal corridor behind her. “He promised he’ll bring you home if you destroy Draith? Is that the reason we were sent here in the first place? Then why didn’t you do it when you first had the chance? Answer me!”
“I’m so sorry my love, I told you not to be alone with that monster!” Elden shoved past Sali in his haste to enter the room.
“Not a monster. Am human now,” Draith
insisted earnestly from the corner.
Amore swooned in Elden’s arms. Elden had never known Amore to swoon before—she’d certainly never done it around him—and he was unprepared to support her sudden weight. Both of them tumbled to the ground in a messy pile of arms and legs. A moment later and both Harris and Ramnus burst into the room as well.
“Everything is alright now,” Amore insisted, propping herself against the wall. “Hush hush, I’m having another divine vision, everyone be quiet…”
“No getting out of it this time!” Sali protested.
“The Quasi Crystal is now instructing me how we can get home from here. Someone ask computer where the nearest black hole is.”
“We’re not doing that. She’s insane, and she’s lying,” Sali cut in, throwing the drill against the ground in frustration. “She’s been lying ever since she came here.”
“I take full responsibility for this as your Captain,” Harris said. “I never should have been so lenient on the rampant disorder in the ranks. The fact is that the Crystal Goddess has kept us safe so far. So let’s all stop interrupting and hear what she has to say.”
“Yes, thank you Harris. Because the Crystal told me something else. If you want someone to blame for our situation, then it should be that disagreeable cyber. Sali is the only reason we’re here in the first place.”
Her smile as sweet as saccharin, her voice an executioner’s axe. In that moment Sali changed Amore’s classification from annoyance to loathing. Amore’s gloating face would be the thing Sali thought about the next time she destroyed an inanimate object.
It wasn’t the first time Elden had seen that particular expression. It was a reflection of the face that sneered down at him while he fought her lover on the floor. It wasn’t the face of someone who would have gone back like Eisen had, not one to be a martyr like Tareesh. For Amore, winning wasn’t everything. It was the only thing.
