Gun crime wasn’t uncommon in Mexico City. Gun crime involving foreign nationals was unusual, though. Gun crime involving foreign nationals with no paperwork, no identity, no bank account, and seemingly, no personal history older than twelve months was rarer still. And the tranquilizers they’d pulled out of the back of one of the dead men had been fired by high velocity sniper rifles from neighboring buildings. Rifles that cost a small fortune, and operated with the kind of accuracy that was unheard of outside specialist military units. So the guards on Meera’s door, that changed every eight hours, were not rookies but proven officers. The Federales assumed a drug-connection was the most likely explanation, but everything about this case was giving a headache to everyone assigned to it.
Mee was currently the Federales’ best hope for information. They’d had one other lucky break, capturing one of the snipers. She’d almost got away from them on the way back to headquarters, as she tried to escape from a police car. It had taken eight of Mexico City’s finest to finally bring her down. One of them was now in the morgue, and four of them were in the same hospital as Mee. The sniper had no ID and seemed completely impervious to any attempts at interrogation. She was a cop killer, so some of the attempts had been a little outside of the law. She hadn’t said a word. The sniper had showed no fear, despite the mound of evidence against her. The Federales’ chief had taken no chances—she was in solitary confinement in the most secure compound in the city. Still she said nothing. So they were hoping for some solid leads from the gunshot victim they’d found on the roof.
Mee’s private room was on the fifth floor. Inaccessible from the outside, but a cop had been posted on the roof. Someone with access to professional snipers might think of abseiling down the roof, but a locked access door with an armed police officer behind it would slow them down long enough to call in a chopper.
All in all, it was a mysterious case, but the key witness was safe and locked up tight. The Federales had done a thorough job. They were confident the witness’s statement would give them a breakthrough, and the doctors had assured them she would be well enough to be interviewed after her operation, currently scheduled for 6am.
Seb Walked directly to Mee’s room. He had forced himself to wait until he could guarantee no witnesses. A nurse was due to check on her at 3:30am. The previous check had finished at 2:06am.
Seb put his hand on Mee’s. She stirred, but didn’t wake. The morphine was the last thing Seb dealt with. First he re-made her femur, extracting the splinters from her knee at the same time. He closed up the entrance and exit wounds as the muscles and tissue knitted back together underneath the surface of the now unblemished skin. Then he stopped the morphine having any effect by making Mee’s body’s opioid receptors reject the drug.
At that point, she opened her eyes.
“Spoilsport,” she said, her voice low. “I was actually enjoying that.”
Seb just looked at her for a long moment.
“I’m sorry,” he said, finally.
“Oh, shut up,” said Mee. “Come here and kiss me. Then tell me how we’re supposed to get out of here when I can’t do your clever walkie trick.”
Seb did as he was told, then went over to the window and put both palms against it. Windows on any floor higher than the first story were designed to open no more than three inches, but as Seb moved his hands away, the entire pane of glass came too. He leaned it carefully against the wall. Mee was out of bed and looking for clothes. The sight of her bare ass in the hospital gown distracted Seb for a moment. He smiled, then a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt appeared and removed the temptation to let his mind wander. Mee looked down at the new clothes.
“You have no fashion sense,” she said.
“Tell me something I don’t know.”
Mee joined him at the window. They were at the back of the building. Five floors below was a small unlit yard with a dumpster in one corner.
“Ok, smart guy,” she said, “how do we—oh!”
Seb picked her up in one swift movement.
“I know you’re not a screamer,” he said, “but bite your lip.”
“You’ve made me scream before, Seb Varden, “ she said, eyeing him. He laughed.
“There’s a time and a place, Meera Patel,” he said. “Now, hold on tight.”
He stepped onto the window sill, paused briefly, then jumped.
Physics is a rigid science, particularly when it relates to Isaac Newton’s laws of motion. The mass that was Seb and Mee’s bodies was now accelerating due to the force of gravity. They would reach just under fifty miles per hour before hitting the ground. Seb held Mee in his arms, so his legs would bear the brunt of the combined mass when they made contact with the hospital concrete, at which point they would be subject to the third of Newton’s laws. The third law was the one that ensured people who jumped out of fifth floor windows rarely lived to regret it. A force (Meera and Seb’s fall) was about to act on an object (the ground) which would respond with an equal and opposite force. An elegant theory, taught in schools for hundreds of years. The theory was certainly more elegant than the practice, which involved bones shattering, internal organs puncturing, quick and heavy blood loss and, often, death.
So when Seb’s feet hit the concrete and the concrete responded by yielding like sponge, then firming again quickly, so that Seb ended up waist deep in what looked like thick oatmeal, any theoretical physicist observing it would have been horrified. Fortunately, none were present to express their objections.
The ground moved again and lifted Seb upward, becoming solid concrete once more. Seb lowered Mee to the floor.
“You’re just trying to impress me, aren’t you?” she said. “If you’re trying to get into my pants, I feel it’s only fair to warn you that it’s probably going to work.”
“Come on,” said Seb, “Let’s go check into a hotel.”
“One condition,” said Mee. “We don’t talk about it till the morning.”
“Deal,” said Seb.
***
Seb woke in a pile of tangled sheets. He slipped quietly out of bed and stood by the hotel window. It was dawn, but they were very high up and the windows were triple glazed, so all he could hear was the whisper of the AC and Mee’s long, deep breaths. He looked back at her, her brown body topped by untamable hair. Against the white sheets, she looked like an exclamation mark.
He was struggling to shake off a dream. Dreams often had meanings worth teasing out, particularly now that he shared his consciousness with two other versions of himself. Well, one version now. But for how much longer?
In the dream, he had been back in Richmond Park, exactly like the first time he had met Seb2. It was winter again, the branches of the ancient trees groaning with snow. He’d walked toward Penn Pond, just as he had before. The figure had been waiting for him, sitting on the bench. But this time, as he approached, Seb2 stood and walked into the pond. The water wasn’t frozen, but Seb expected his double to walk across the surface. This time, it didn’t happen. With every step Seb2 took, he sank a little deeper. Seb broke into a run, but stopped short at the edge of the water. Then, he saw clearly what he had begun to suspect from a distance. Seb2 wasn’t sinking, he was dissolving. His hands, outstretched as he walked, had drifted outward, becoming thinner and more translucent as they floated away. His arms did the same. Now waist high, Seb2 half-turned toward Seb so he had a clear view of the transformation, the liquid creeping up the body, claiming clothes, hair, flesh and bones. All becoming water, a slowly expanding set of ripples taking five or six seconds to gently lap at the stony ground where Seb was standing.
As dreams went, the meaning was probably plenty clear enough, but Seb didn’t want to think too hard about it.
He shivered and put on the thick white toweling robe that the hotel supplied. He wasn’t cold—his body always maintained a comfortable temperature without any conscious input from him. The shiver itself had been deliberate. He’d noticed he was losing certain common human gesture
s and—when he remembered to pay attention to what was happening—it worried him.
He never coughed, never sneezed. He breathed twice a minute and his heart rate was so slow as to be barely perceptible. His blood didn’t need to be pumped organically and inefficiently when it could propel itself around his body unaided. He never scratched himself, never yawned, never rubbed his eyes, never stretched after sitting for a long period. He never farted. A few weeks ago, he had stood in front of the bathroom mirror for ten minutes to make sure his suspicions were correct. They were. He didn’t need to blink.
He could stand completely still for hours. He could run all day without a break. Sleep was unnecessary. He could use Manna to produce food, but even that was starting to look like an affectation. He’d once spent forty-seven hours straight extinguishing a forest fire in Australia, re-homing animals, repairing scorched trees and making the soil fertile so that the damage wouldn’t have a long-term effect. It was only when he’d got home that he’d realized he hadn’t eaten or drunk anything the entire time. Seb2 explained his body could absorb nutrients constantly, like a solar farm harvesting the energy of the sun. He was even more efficient though, extracting humidity, solar energy, and protein from the rich airborne supply constantly available. Seb2 also explained that even this would become unnecessary as his body’s cells, as they died, were replaced by Roswell Manna cells. Self-replicating. Inexhaustible.
Immortal, probably. But would he still be human?
“I’d kill for a cup of tea.” Mee was pulling herself into a sitting position. Seb walked toward her, the cup appearing in his right hand, steam curling from the hot liquid.
“Assam?” he said.
“Actually, I could really go for Earl Grey,” she said. The color of the tea lightened as she raised it to her lips and sipped. “Perfect.”
There was silence for a few minutes. Seb stood by the window again. Seb2 faded into being outside, seemingly floating above the city below.
“How long?” thought Seb.
“Not long,” said Seb2. “Days, perhaps.”
“It’s weird. I’ll miss you,” thought Seb.
“I am you,” said Seb2. “I’m not going anywhere. We will be you again. Seb3 is already so bonded with the nanotech, there’s no separation as such.”
“I know. And I know this separation is artificial, but—,”
“But it gives you someone to talk to. The only person who can fully understand how you feel. The only one who knows you’re starting to wonder what happens to you and Mee if you keep changing.”
“Yeah,” thought Seb. “That.”
“One step at a time,” said Seb2 and faded away.
Mee put the cup down and ran her fingers through her hair, which instantly sprang back into the same condition.
“So,” she said, “you’ve got a plan, right? ‘Cos this whole ‘people shooting me while wearing your face’ is more your department. I’m delegating the responsibility to you.”
Seb nodded. “Yes Ma’am.”
Mee started looking for her bag, forgetting it was still in police custody. Seb watched for a moment, then gestured toward the bedside table, where a rolled joint was suddenly waiting. Mee picked it up with a smile, then pointed out the no smoking sign and the smoke alarms.
“No need to light it,” said Seb.
Mee drew heavily on the unlit joint and felt the unmistakable sensation of hot, sweet smoke coursing down her windpipe into her lungs. She exhaled, but no cloud of smoke emerged.
“Clever bugger,” she said. “Pray continue.”
“You first,” said Seb. “Tell me what happened.”
Mee told Seb everything that had happened since she’d left the apartment. The feelings of imminent danger in the market, the moment on the roof when she’d realized it wasn’t Seb coming to save her but Westlake coming to kidnap her. She described her shock and dismay at seeing Walt again. Then she described Walt’s bravery and his sacrifice to save her, crying as she did so.
In turn, Seb told her about his experience on the alien craft and his escape. He’d only been missing sixteen hours this time, but since he had Walked back, the sixteen hours must all have been the outward journey. They were close. Seb2 said the Rozzers would be in orbit within a day.
“And what happens then?” said Mee.
“Well,” said Seb, “it’s not good.”
“The Unmaking Engine?”
Seb nodded, glumly.
“What does it do?” she said.
He sat on the edge of the bed.
“First of all you have to understand who they are—the Rozzers—what they do. And what they did, the first time they visited.”
“The first time?” said Mee.
“About two and a half billion years ago,” said Seb. “I told you they were scientists. Earth is just one of their experiments.”
“What?” said Mee. She realized her joint wasn’t shrinking. She also knew she wasn’t getting stoned. Under the circumstances, this was probably both a good, and a bad thing. She’d be able to understand what Seb was about to tell her, but she wouldn’t be able to distance herself from its impact with the aid of chemicals.
“They were here with two devices last time. The first was a container filled with a soup made up of multicellular lifeforms, carefully created to adapt to a wide variety of conditions and kickstart the process of evolution. The second device seeded the entire planet with deposits of Manna. It created tens of thousands of Thin Places, waiting for a sentient species to emerge, discover them and become Users, triggering the next period of evolution. Conscious evolution.”
“Whoa, back up a bit. They kickstarted evolution here? On Earth?”
“Yup.”
“So, they created us? Humans?”
“In effect,” said Seb, “yes, they did. They didn’t have any control over the environment, so they couldn’t know how their organisms would react, how they would adapt to the conditions on a planet. But yes, all life on earth evolved after their first visit.”
“All life,” said Mee, quietly. Not a question, just a simple statement. Humanity’s sense of itself had just been turned on its head. There was a creator, but he was a glowing seven-foot alien with a pen leaking into his shirt pocket. Or rather, one of his ancestors.
“I think I need to sit down,” said Mee.
“You are sitting down.”
“Oh. I’m going to lie down, then.” She lay back and looked at the ceiling. There were dozens of tiny LEDs pushed into the flat white ceiling, changing color gradually as she watched. Warm blue, ivory, green, red. An ever changing pattern. It was an expensive hotel. “What’s conscious evolution?”
“It’s why Manna was left here,” said Seb. “Manna should trigger the process. Eventually, on every planet the Rozzers visit, a dominant sentient species will emerge. A small percentage of that species will discover Manna. In most cases, the species as a whole will benefit from the discovery. Within a few generations, every baby should be born aware of Manna, in the same way they are aware of milk, food, its parents’ voices. Evolution follows, but the whole species chooses it, lifting itself to a new level of consciousness. Awareness of, then communication with, other sentient species in the galaxy—then the wider universe—is next, followed by intergalactic travel. The species joins others who have undergone the same process.”
“They’ve done this a lot, then.”
“Don’t know the exact total, but in the millions. Millions of planets.”
Mee couldn’t think of an intelligent response to that information. In fact, she was struggling to think at all. She finally managed a non-committal, “Ah.”
“Earth was a petri dish, Mee. They’re coming to see what’s grown in it.”
“But we haven’t evolved like you said.”
“No. It doesn’t always work. Some species discover Manna, but its use never becomes universal. Instead, it becomes another way for the few to exert power over the many. Those species, if left, eventually beco
me a threat to themselves and others.”
“So what’s next? What do the Rozzers do when that happens?”
“They’re scientists, Mee. If an experiment fails, they take notes and start over.”
“Start over?”
“The Unmaking Engine.”
Mee lay there for a few minutes, still and quiet. She had the same feeling she’d had when the police had come to her door after her dad had been killed in a car crash. Her mother had opened the door. Two uniformed officers. One male, one female. Both carrying their hats. Mee knew her dad was dead right then. So did her mom. But her mom still had to ask, “What’s happened?”.
It was the same now.
“What does it do?” she said, finally. “The Unmaking Engine. What does it do?”
“It resets the species,” said Seb. “They drop it into the atmosphere, it falls into the ocean where it releases nanotech adapted to the DNA of the dominant species. The Engine spreads out across the water, reproducing itself at an atomic level. It is sucked up into the sky, becoming clouds, and soon afterward, rain. The rain falls across the face of the planet over the next few weeks. It’s quick and painless. Every human being will die.”
The silence that followed was a long one.
“They don’t see it as aggression,” said Seb. “Our species failed. They clean up the mess and leave the planet with the potential for another species to step up. They might make a better job of Using than we did.”
“Well, I feel much better knowing that,” said Mee.
Seb lay down next to her. They were silent for a long time. Finally, she squeezed his hand.
“I’m guessing you have a plan, right?”
Seb didn’t reply at first. She squeezed his hand again. “Right?”
World Walker 2: The Unmaking Engine Page 23
