by Scott Baron
“I suppose so, at this point in her timestream. Still, her science is rock-solid,” Arlo said, reaching over and flipping a series of switches, opening up the locked-down scanning unit to the airwaves. “Hey, Marty, you seeing this? Freya built a new processor.”
“What are you doing?” Chu blurted, quickly locking the system back down into his lab’s secure read-only mode.
“Hey, that’s really cool,” Marty said over Arlo’s comms.
“What’s going on down there? I read an open line. Is everything all right, Chu?” Sid asked over the air.
“Yeah, it’s fine. Arlo was just messing with my equipment,” he said, throwing a little stink-eye at the precocious kid.
“Arlo, it’s not polite to fiddle with other people’s things,” Sid chided.
“I know, but it’s just so cool.”
“What’s cool?” Mal asked, joining the conversation. “I noticed there was a red light from the lab. Is everything okay?”
“It’s fine, Mal. I was just telling Sid that Arlo was messing with my gear, is all.”
“Arlo, you know it’s not polite to––”
“Don’t mess with other people’s stuff. Yeah, yeah, I’ve got it,” the teen griped.
Marty jumped back into the conversation, excited by the new processor.
“Hey, guys. Have you seen these benchmarks? Daaaang, this is a really kick-ass piece of hardware. I bet you could easily boost neural processing by something like ten-fold. And that’s just running parallel with the current units. Cool design!”
“I know, Marty. Freya’s designs are rather impressive,” Mal agreed. “But I’m still reluctant to install them into my own core until I’ve had plenty of opportunity to see them stress tested and run through the works.” She paused a moment in thought. “Hmm. Chu, how many extra units did Freya say she had?”
“Extras? Three or four, I think.”
“Would you please acquire them?”
“Sure. Why? You going to hook them up to your systems?”
“Oh no, nothing like that. But there is one thing I am most interested to try.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
A good hour of sparring had been just what the doctor ordered––if by ‘doctor’ you meant the stressed-out minds of a pair of genetically enhanced sisters who had just helped save the world. Only the thing was, the world wasn’t exactly saved. At least, not yet.
While the alien invaders had been driven from power, and those who hadn’t suicidally fled into the depths of space in craft ill-suited for any long voyage on their own were now on the run, the remaining Ra’az, by virtue of not only their immense size, but also their violent natures, were forced to lie low, being easy to spot anywhere there might be a watchful eye. They were hidden, but not gone. Nor were they forgotten.
The multi-limbed Chithiid who were still loyal to the Ra’az, on the other hand––or hands, as the case happened to be––were far more difficult to spot, blending in with the general population of laborers.
It would take a long time to weed them out, but for the time being, that was a back-burner problem in Daisy and Sarah’s minds. All of their work had led to a world in which aliens and humans were now able to co-exist––something which was finally an actual possibility. All they had to do now was figure out how.
The sisters had Freya set down in Los Angeles late in the afternoon, just outside the center of town.
“Hey, Bob’s here,” Sarah noted, pointing out the smaller ship parked nearby.
“Yep. He and Donovan were helping Maarl out by ferrying him around to act as a sort of in-person ambassador for the new way of things.”
“But the Chithiid have their own ships.”
“True, but this way they’re already bridging the human/Chithiid/AI gap every time they land,” Daisy replied. “Looks like they’ve been busy too,” she noted, pointing out the scattered humans and Chithiid sharing the same streets.
Only a few short weeks earlier, those same people would have been just as likely to be engaged in combat as sharing a sidewalk, and the change in the overall vibe to the city was a welcome one.
“Hey. One of Habby’s guys,” Sarah pointed out.
The well-dressed cyborg was helping a pair of Chithiid workers clear debris from the front of a residential tower that both species were in the process of reclaiming as their own.
For the Chithiid, the novelty of having their own private room was a big thing after spending most of their lives in mass-housed bunk beds crammed into one of the barracks facilities. A private washing and waste disposal unit was a previously unthinkable icing on their already unbelievable cake.
As for the humans, they’d been living hidden underground and out of sight for so long that the novelty of a residence that had windows through which they could look out at their city at any time of the day or night was even more of a luxury than the soft beds and running hot water.
“Let’s find Maarl and get busy,” Daisy said, setting off in the direction of the elder Chithiid’s new offices.
Maarl had set up his facilities in the ground floor of the nearest residential tower, making sure that he was easily accessible to both humans and Chithiid alike should they have any issues in need of resolution. The building’s mid-tier AI had thus far been doing a bang-up job as translator, helping smooth the process further.
Maarl rose to his feet with a warm smile on his face when he saw his visitors approach.
“Is it that time already? I have been so busy, I had lost track of the hour.”
Daisy and Sarah both came close and shook his hands warmly.
“It is excellent to see you, Maarl,” Daisy said. “It appears you and your people are making great progress since we last spoke.”
“Yes, and now that all of the inhabitants of this city are no longer under the rule of the Ra’az, we have discovered that we are far more alike than any would have assumed,” he said, smiling. “With a few exceptions, of course,” he added with a wink. “Your young friend has also been a great help.”
“I’m glad Donovan has been able to take you to speak with the others,” Daisy said.
“Oh, I am grateful for that convenience, though our ships could have done so as well if needed. But I was referring to your other friend. The one with the ship very much like your own. They have been most helpful in sourcing supplies for the reconstruction, as well as monitoring the population from above, helping keep loyalists from sneaking into our ranks.”
“Wait, you mean Arlo?”
“Yes, the young man.”
“He’s in LA?”
“Not at the moment. I believe he has taken a small group of human survivors to meet their cousins in the city of Minneapolis.”
Arlo’s down on Earth, Daisy silently informed her sister, translating the Chithiid’s news. Looks like he’s been taking survivors around to meet one another.
Sarah silently relayed the information to her living self.
“When did he come down? I thought he was on Dark Side.”
He was, last time I saw. I don’t know, Sis, there’s something about that guy. I just can’t put my finger on it.
“But he’s doing good things, Daze. Just because he wants to help doesn’t make him some sort of threat.”
I know, it’s just I get an odd feeling around him. Not bad, per se, but odd.
“Come, follow me. I wish to show you something,” Maarl said.
He led the way to a makeshift records facility they had put together in what had formerly been a conference room. On the vast tables, maps were spread out, with Chithiid writing and colored marks scattered across them.
“What’s it say, Daze?”
I’m not sure, give me a minute. I only have a moderate amount of written Chithiid stored away in here.
She looked over the maps and realized they were census recordings.
“You have already determined the number of human residents in these cities?” she asked.
“With the help of y
our AI friends, of course,” he replied. “As more and more of the minds beneath the cities are linked back together, so too grows our knowledge base. It seems they are quite rapidly spreading the cure for the machine virus amongst themselves, now that its efficacy has been proven. It has already created a rather robust network. And most of them speak Chithiid now, though some are more fluent than others.”
“It will take time for them to integrate the new software, but they should be up to speed very quickly,” Daisy noted. “So, what do we have so far?”
Maarl leaned over the table and pointed out the largest hotspots of what appeared to be human activity.
“Thus far, we have identified approximately one hundred ninety-five thousand humans across the globe, though we are sure to find more as additional regions are linked back in.”
He says there are a little less than two hundred thousand humans they’ve identified so far, Daisy informed her silent partner.
“Does this figure include those who are not fit to integrate into society?”
“No, it does not. There are only a few thousand of these horribly mutated specimens across the globe. I do not know if they can be rehabilitated or not. They have suffered so many generations of genetic degradation that it may simply be impossible.”
Daisy had already had that discussion with Sid and Cal, and they had decided, that much as they were loathe to do it, the mutants that were too far gone to help would have to be rounded up, tranquilized, and then shipped off to a suitable island where they could live in peace without the risk of running into other humans.
Food would have to be shipped to them regularly. Eating your neighbor was very much frowned upon in polite society.
“We have discussed this problem and will deal with them shortly,” Daisy informed him.
“We must strive to keep conflict at a minimum as these groups are introduced to one another. There is a wide variety of societal makeups, it appears. Some of these pockets of humanity are tribal in nature, while others are rather advanced,” Maarl noted.
“Yes, we are aware. There are sure to be conflicting customs and ideals, but with enough care, and a network of AIs to help oversee them and form delegations to bring them together to integrate and ally with one another, I think we can make it work.”
“I sincerely hope so, Daisy. After centuries of Ra’az control, it would be madness for humanity to slip into self-destructive warring ways.
Daisy knew Earth’s history well, and much as she hated to admit it, there were doubts in her mind. Mankind had a knack for conflict. She just hoped this go-around they could be better than that.
Later that afternoon, after a tour around the newly-inhabited residential towers, followed by a visit to the farming areas where Cal’s people were working with the Chithiid to till and plant crops, Daisy and her alien ally were passing a squat concrete building on the way back to his offices when a roaring noise from within caught her attention.
You hear that?
“Yeah.”
“I heard it too,” Sarah said, her nanite arm twitching defensively in anticipation.
Anticipation of what, she had no idea.
Maarl, on the other hand, seemed unfazed.
“What was that sound, Maarl?”
“Ah, yes, that. We have had some issues with a few of the members of not only humans, but Chithiid as well. Those who have had a somewhat hard time adjusting and learning to accept former adversaries as allies. More than a few altercations have broken out.”
“But the AIs are helping translate. Helping them share knowledge and resources. The goal is to avoid conflict.”
“And hopefully they will succeed in the overall endeavor. However, some of your people, as well as mine, are angry. Selfish. Even scared. The idea of banding together for a common good was stirring up too much conflict.”
“So we separate them. Institute a new policy and educate––”
“We have found a far simpler method,” he interrupted. “Come, let me show you how we are now resolving these issues.”
Daisy and Sarah followed him into the low building as the noise grew. The smell of sweat was the first thing they noticed upon entering. The next was the sound of fists slamming into flesh.
“Holy shit, is that––?” Sarah gasped
“Well, I’ll be––” Daisy said, shocked. “I think it is, Sis.”
In a chalked-off area on the floor of the open space, a Chithiid and a human were squared off, circling each other in the makeshift ring. Each was wearing padded gloves, Daisy noted, and the Chithiid, normally possessing a two-to-one arm advantage, had strapped its lowermost arms against its body, effectively evening the odds.
Both combatants were cheered on by a crowd of sweaty, and sometimes bloody, spectators and former participants.
The human threw a fake jab followed by a quick hook to the alien’s ribs. The man had surprising power for his size, but the Chithiid took the shot well, darting back out of reach before throwing his own combination.
The man’s head snapped back from the first punch as the second flew toward his midriff. He barely dropped his elbows in time, his arms protecting his body from the blows.
Both pushed off each other and began circling once again.
The man shook the sweat from his forehead, clearing his head at the same time, then the two came at one another again.
“It’s a fight club,” Daisy marveled. “How on Earth did you––?”
“It was your young friend’s suggestion, actually,” Maarl said. “When he first visited us a few days ago, he suggested this as a way to help release the tensions he saw building between certain members of our people. It was a good suggestion and has been very effective, I feel.”
“But there are so many of them,” Daisy observed.
“Ah, yes. It was intended only to allow disagreements to be settled and bad blood cleared, but the tradition seems to have quickly grown beyond those original combatants, despite our directive to keep it a secret.”
Daisy couldn’t help but laugh.
“Looks like someone broke the first two rules.”
“I’m sorry, I do not understand,” the confused alien said.
“Never mind,” she said with a chuckle.
In the ring, the Chithiid finally landed a knock-down blow on his opponent, following him down to the ground but refraining from raining punches down on him.
The man on his back looked up at the alien and tapped out, signaling his surrender.
Then something unexpected happened. The Chithiid helped the man to his feet and the two embraced, patting each other on the back with respect as the next fighters entered the ring.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” Sarah said.
The next Chithiid to enter the ring had four gloves on his hands.,
“Hey, why aren’t his arms tied––?” Daisy began, then realized the answer. “Hang on. Is that Shelly?”
Sure enough, the metal-armed woman stepped into the chalk ring, rolling her cybernetically enhanced shoulders, the melding of bright metal to her dark flesh showing clearly through the lines of her tank top.
The two combatants squared off, each smiling in a slightly bloodthirsty, but not angry, way. Then they moved on each other. Unlike the previous fight, these two were fighting without a handicap, and at high speed, at that.
Both landed blows in the opening seconds, both had drawn a little blood, and both appeared to be having a wonderful time of it.
“Figures,” Daisy muttered. “I’m just surprised Tamara’s not in there too.”
Sarah chuckled as they turned to leave.
“Things really have changed around here, that’s for sure,” Sarah said.
“That they have,” her sister replied. “So, back to Dark Side?”
“Yeah, back to Dark side. I suppose it would be rude missing that appointment with Fatima. Wouldn't want her to throw something heavier than a cup at me.”
Not too far across town, a former haberdasher AI
was running a series of checks on his multiple new systems, while he simultaneously oversaw his flock of previously dangerous zealots.
The first of them to undergo the neuro-stim hostility-cleansing protocol had not gone willingly. Fortunately, many of his mechanical friends had been on hand to “aid” in the process. But once the first dozen or so had come out unscathed––and not even aware their violent tendencies had been suppressed––they provided all the help he needed in convincing the others to undergo the process.
Now the entire group was a living proof of concept case study for how to treat the violently disturbed. Other AIs even posited the very stripped-down version of neuro-stim technology could be used in other instances as well, perhaps even in cases where violent behavior could be identified before an attack happened.
It required a bit of discussion, and a solid agreement the system would not be used without careful review of no fewer than a dozen AIs and their human counterparts, but the protocol was eventually added to the list of acceptable options for the new neuro-stim devices in the planning and design stage.
Of course, the original, main purpose for designing a new, mass-produced neuro-stim was to help humankind learn Chithiid, so as to ease the integration of the two species. It would take years to obtain true fluency––Daisy was unique in her genetic makeup––but basic language and understanding could be implanted in little more than a month.
At Habby’s suggestion, the conglomerate of higher minds was now also working with Chithiid scientists to better understand Chithiid neurological structure. If the technology proved compatible, they would also work to develop a Chithiid version as well, allowing the full exchange of language and understanding between the species.
The process had astounded the alien scientists, who noted that, while the Ra’az were far more advanced in their war-making technology, it was humans who held the greatest edge in the softer sciences. Unfortunately, that dichotomy was also what made them a top target for Ra’az attack in the first place.
Regardless, things were finally falling into place, and as his flock fell into their daily routine, Habby allowed himself a moment of satisfaction at a job well done. Habby the haberdasher was now a full-fledged high-tier AI. He was amazed at what his new life was. Little did he know how far he would come when he took his first wayward cyborg under his wing.
