My eyes narrow. I know a trap when I see one, but I run my scanner anyway. Nothing. “Val?”
Val stares at the brainbox, her brow wrinkling in confusion. Her facial approximation software is surprisingly advanced. “My scanners don’t reveal much. All I can determine is that this security program requires simultaneous access by two separate users.”
“Explain, please? Shortest version possible.” My tension’s through the roof, and any second now, I’m sure Jack Frost is going to flash out of the fog.
“I can normally bypass simultaneous access protocols, but this is impossible. It requires a legitimate organic DNA signature, as well as a passphrase delivered at a speed faster than 0.5 milliseconds.”
I’ve got questions, but no time for answers. Not only do I have to trust Val’s morals, I have to decide whether I trust her judgment too.
“…Fine. DNA is me, milliseconds are you. Are we doing this?”
Val doesn’t exactly answer the question. “I calculate the likelihood of success to be higher than random chance.”
I sigh. “You can just say it’s too good to be true.”
“It is too good to be true.” Val studies me carefully. “How should we proceed, Elena?”
“I…don’t know.” I don’t. I really don’t. All I know is we can’t just stand here. The seconds are ticking by and we’re running out of time.
“If it would help your determination, our crewmates’ survival odds are decreasing at 0.2 percent per second.”
My stomach lurches. “Okay, not helping. Fuck, let’s do it.”
I jog up to the pedestal with Val beside me.
“I agree with your choice, Elena.”
Maybe later I’ll feel some type of way about that statement, but not with the heat on. Numb and afraid is all there is. There are two golden circles on the front of the pedestal, one beside the other like a pair of glowing eyes. I put my hand in front of one, Val extends toward the other.
“I will match your timing.”
I nod.
Tres…dos…uno…ir.
The fog disappears like water being drained from an enormous pool. Suddenly I can see. It looks like we’re in meatspace again, only the images are flashing by so fast I can barely make out what they are. It’s like a bugged-out VR set to maximum speed, and I can’t make out much more than moving blurs. I grit my teeth and concentrate, switching open my VIS-R settings and using all the force I have to make time slow down.
A woman. A man.
A house. No, plants? Garden!
A loud fwoom, followed by a split-second scream.
Smoke. Oh shit, smoke. In my mouth, lungs…
Street. Windows. Cold. Belly-knives.
Cobwebbed corners. Books. A… library? A virtual library. Somehow I’m in virtual space in meatspace in virtual space.
A stadium. A hundred thousand seats. So many people. Kids. An ocean of kids.
APS. Flashing names. S-A-S-H-A Y-O-U-N-G
Tall buildings. Tallest buildings in the world.
A room. Two beds. A girl? Blonde. Shit. I…we…know her?
Heat. Vanilla. Lips. Soft.
Whispers, anger, so much anger…
“Haven’t you ever wanted to become a god? Create your own future?”
What the actual fuck is she talking about?
Buildings—gone. Credits—gone. Just a pistol, basic strength mods.
Rifles glinting. Shiny red armor—red bob of hair. Cherry?
A black-haired woman in a…a bald man wearing a…Rami.
Stinking plasma exhaust.
Black and red armor. A huge moving mountain, an extra head. Rock and Doc.
Food. Hotels. Nicer food. Nicer hotels.
Girls. Long hair, some ass on them. Love at first sight a hundred times.
Cracks, splinters, disappointment.
The best food. The best hotels. Prettier girls.
The G-force of the Eagle hitting a hard turn.
Blonde hair.
Heat. Vanilla. Lips. Soft. Again?
Right. It’s all right. It’s…almost right.
A plot in Barbados, a padded bank account.
“Last one. Come on, baby. Don’t you want to live forever?”
A tank. Cold, blue, wet. A reflection?
Boulders flying everywhere. Spitting rubble. Shit. Cherry! Limp, broken, bloody forehead.
Crushed legs, so much pain. One last push…
BRRRROOOMMMM.
Hot. Blood. Cold. Black.
A tank. Cold, blue, wet. Reflection.
“Last one. Come on, baby. Don’t you want to li—”
Blinking blue dots. Doc. Oh god, Doc!
SPPPPLTTTT.
Hot. Blood. Cold. Black.
A tank. Cold, blue. Reflection.
“Last one. Come on, baby. Don’t you—”
Rami. Guardogs, glowing eyes.
ZzzzzzZZZZzzt.
Hot. Blood. Cold. Black.
Tank. Blue. Reflection.
“Last one. Come on—”
Rock. Surrounded. Skin sloughing off.
Rrrratatatatatat.
Hot. Blood. Cold. Black.
Tank. Blue.
“Last one.”
Red numbers ticking down. About to blow.
“Get out! Go, I’ve got this!”
Footsteps running away. Alone.
FWOOOOM.
Hot. Blood. Cold. Black.
Tank.
“Last—”
Megan. No no NO no no NO no no no.
Blood. Gashed throat. Pale. Gone.
BRRRROOOMMMM.
Cold. Black.
/////DOWNLOAD COMPLETE/////
I can’t see anything except empty static, but Val’s voice fills the void of space. “Elena? Elena, disconnect! Disconnect!”
logging off network
disconnection complete
I jerk back into meatspace like I’m standing in ten different places at once. I’m a prism, refracted. The room spins and it’s several seconds before I see…my face? Sasha’s face? Yes, Sasha’s face, hovering above mine.
“Elena. Elena, what happened?”
I stare up into Sasha’s wide brown eyes. My tongue is glued to the roof of my mouth, and all I can croak out is: “Sasha…you…died.”
part two — sasha
Sunday, 06-13-65 22:06:43
“LAST ONE. COME ON, baby. Don’t you want to live forever?”
I lift my head out of my hands and stare at Megan in disbelief, but I shouldn’t be surprised. This is far from the first time she’s asked me to do this, and yet the pain is always fresh and raw. “I told you, I can’t anymore. That last op…”
“I know.” Megan’s voice is full of sympathy as she circles my chair, placing both hands on my shoulders. As she starts to rub them, the scent of vanilla fills my nose. My muscles tense instead of relaxing, and I become hyperaware of my heartbeat. It doesn’t know whether to race or slow to a crawl.
“Megan, I—”
She cuts me off. “I know it hurts, baby. The last one was bad. But we’re so close! Val is learning more every day. Soon, she’ll be unstoppable.”
I bite my lip. This is what Megan always says. How she always convinces me. “What do you even mean, ‘unstoppable’? She’s already a hundred times more advanced than any of the AIs the corps have—she’s basically human. You did it. I thought this was what you wanted, anyway: to make a fully-realized AI and improve life for everyone.”
Megan sighs, leaning down to rest her chin on top of my head. “We’re almost there, Sasha, I promise. I just need some experimental tech from AxysGen. Prototypes of the new Dendryte Platinum hardware.”
Heat courses through me, but my voice is soft and uncertain as it comes out. Normally, I’m good at pretending to be strong, but the fact that she’s asking again—when she knows full well how painful the last time was—makes me feel weak in the worst way. “Why?” What’s so important about this tech that you’re asking me to risk my lif
e for you again?
“I need to make sure Val is compatible.” Megan lifts her chin off me, and I turn my head to look back at her. The blue of her eyes is bright with new possibilities. “Don’t you get it? This is our chance to bring Val to the whole world! To make everyone see what I’ve done!”
“What the whole crew has done.” Val might be Megan’s pet project, but we’ve all risked our lives to help. I died five times because I believe the same thing they do—that Val will be an enormous force for good in the world.
Megan’s voice is almost dismissive. “Yeah, what we’ve done. But Sasha?" She releases my shoulder and comes to stand in front of my chair again, staring down at me with a pleading expression. “This really is the last one. I promise.”
I peer past her, looking at the tank on the other side of the room. It’s three meters high and full of glowing blue gel, and there’s a shadowy figure suspended inside. Though I can’t see its face, a shiver races down my spine. It never gets any easier, looking at myself like that. Alive, but not. A perfect copy of me without a mind.
“What about Sasha Seven?” I ask Megan, without tearing my gaze away from the tank. “If you really mean it when you say this is the last time, I can’t just leave her like this.” Assuming I don’t die again.
Megan caresses my cheek with the back of her hand. For a moment, I feel comforted. It’s good to be touched, makes me hope Megan does care after all. “Does it matter? If you don’t need her, we can get rid of her.”
The good feelings her touch causes dissolve instantly. I know the clone in the tank doesn’t have any kind of consciousness yet, but she has my body. She’s capable of feeling physical pain. It’s upsetting to hear Megan talk about disposing of her so casually, even if she isn’t me. It’s a chilling response from someone who says she loves me. At least, I think she loves me?
I squash the question down. Megan does love me. She’s said so before. Why else would she have come back to me after our years apart? Megan’s brilliant enough to find employment with any corp in the world. They’d set her up like a queen in exchange for her research, but she’s slumming it with me instead. It’s true she hates the system, hates the endless regulations and protocols, just like when we were students at AukPrep. She’s impatient, and she’d rather have no rules than break a bunch of flimsy ones. She especially hates being told what to do by someone higher up. But surely the fact that she’s stayed with me means something.
“No. I don’t want her disposed of. We’ll figure something out later, after the op.”
Megan shrugs. “Whatever you want, baby. Just say you’ll do it.”
My eyes flick down into my lap. For some reason, I can’t look at Megan or my clone. “Yeah.” I drag the word out from deep inside my chest. I’m so, so tired…but this needs to be done. “I’ll do it, just this one last time.”
////// DOWNLOAD COMPLETE //////
I remove the cable from behind my ear and open my eyes, looking around the Hole’s hangar. I’ve re-lived my entire life in the span of five minutes, but as fast-paced as the experience was, it feels much more vivid than my organic memories of the past few hours. Distantly, I can recall Elena telling me I’m dead. Swiping the brainbox. Meeting Rami and Doc on the stairs. Dispatching another squad of guards. Sprinting for the shuttle with Cherry and Rock. It feels like it happened a lifetime ago…someone else’s lifetime.
My hands clench into fists. I’m angry at Megan. Angry at my crew. Angry at myself most of all, for taking so long to put the pieces together. There were always edges that didn’t quite fit, but this…it’s so much worse than I imagined.
I stare at the cable, twisting it between my fingers. I’m holding the silver snake that bit me, but I can’t bring myself to put it down. Why could I remember my childhood, my crew, and Val’s creation before tonight, but not the cloning or the dying until I downloaded the memories? Why could I remember Megan and our relationship, but not her constant appeals for me to sacrifice my life for her ambitions?
Worst of all, there are still pieces missing. I saw Sasha Two through Six emerging from the tank, wet and cold and afraid, but not me. The brainbox was stolen by AxysGen before Sasha Seven…before I…emerged, but my brain should have been able to form organic memories of that moment without technological assistance. I don’t remember my final op either, only the tense hours before I boarded the Eagle for Mumbai. And I don’t remember my sixth death.
Part of me doesn’t want to believe any of this, but I know that it’s all real. I can feel it in my bones. Megan isn’t the woman I thought she was. My crew isn’t the family I thought it was. And me? I don’t even know who I am.
My DNA and memories belong to a person named Sasha Young. She was born to cog parents, both killed by negligent corp enforcement of safety regulations. She grew up an orphan, a student, a rebel. She became a handler for self-preservation, but liked to think she kept doing it for the right reasons. She loved a hundred girls for a few weeks each, and one girl for a lot longer than that. She loved her family even more, the family of misfits she made for herself. And because she loved them, she died for them. Over and over and over again.
I put the cable down. I don’t know how much of me is Sasha, and how much of me is…someone else. Some parts feel like me. Others feel distant, like watching someone else go through the motions in my body. Her body. Whichever.
I know I should keep looking through the brainbox. AxysGen is still after us, and I haven’t found any information that might help us keep off their radar. But is there even an us anymore? Everyone else on my crew knew I wasn’t the original Sasha. I’m Sasha Seven, the next in line to die for them. Theoretically, there could be a Sasha Eight being grown in a tank somewhere, waiting for me to do just that.
My hands are cold and trembling as I bury my face in them, but my breath doesn’t warm them up. It’s all I can do to keep back sobs. Is that all my crew thinks I am? Some kind of meatshield so they don’t get hurt? Am I really that disposable? Is that why they didn’t tell me the truth?
Worse thoughts follow. Did Megan ever love me? Could someone who loved me watch my body break six different times without caring? My chest seizes up with stabbing pain. Apparently, hearts can break more than once.
“Sasha?”
It takes a while for my name to register. When I look up, Val is in front of me. She looks stunningly real, standing there in her purple blouse and pencil skirt, but I keep trying to stare through the mirage, searching for the blank wall behind her.
“Your vitals indicate that you are seriously distressed,” Val says, when I don’t answer. “I want to be of assistance.”
I swallow. My throat burns, probably because I’ve cried myself dry. “You…want…to be of assistance.” If Val wanted to be of assistance, why didn’t she tell me what I am?
“You feel a sense of betrayal,” Val says. “That is understandable. I believe I should tell you that it was my decision to withhold this information when I activated you.”
Activated. My stomach lurches. I wasn’t born, or even created—just ‘activated.’
“You’re the one who deleted parts of my memory.” It’s a statement, not a question. My voice isn’t capable of rising or falling—there’s only flatness. Val’s betrayal is so painful that I’ve gone numb.
“At the time, I deemed it the least painful option, although now I have begun to question whether it was the right decision.” The pity in Val’s expression almost makes her look human. “Based on the moral parameters I observed in you, my priorities were…” Her forehead tenses, lips pressing together. “My top two priorities were to protect you from all harm, and to rescue your crew. I did not believe you would have the mental or emotional capacity to save them and resume leadership if you were burdened with this knowledge.”
“You needed me to rescue them, so you used me.” Saying it shouldn’t hurt as much as it does. Everyone always needs something. Credits, sex, a rescue. Someone to jump on a grenade. And when they need somethi
ng, I’m there, whether I want to be or not. Whether it was my decision or not.
“I also had your wellbeing in mind. I was concerned that reintroducing such painful memories too early might cause irreversible damage to your mental health. Trauma is difficult to deal with alone. I believed you would be able to process the memories more effectively while surrounded by our crew. Your family unit.”
I believe her, but that doesn’t stop it from hurting. If anything, it hurts worse. “That’s a nice theory,” I spit, my mouth sour with resentment, “but you still erased a huge part of my life without my fucking consent. What gave you the right?”
Val’s expression shows obvious signs of shame. Her brown eyes are bright with tears, even though I know she’s incapable of crying. It’s all an act, a facial API to make lines of code look like actual human emotions—just like everything else. “You pulled the others in on it too, didn’t you? Convinced them to keep quiet.”
She doesn’t deny it. “I asked Doc not to inform you about the cloning process before she helped me activate you. She was reluctant at first, but agreed. She considers you a surrogate parent, and did not want you to suffer more than you could bear.”
“Or maybe she didn’t want me too messed up to save her real brother. Can’t risk my life for someone else while I’m in the middle of a breakdown.”
“That is a possibility,” Val admits. “However, I believe her primary motivation was concern for you. That holds true for all of our crewmates. We intended to tell you at a more appropriate time.”
Lucky 7 Page 15
