by Phoenix Ward
“It’s why I told Dr. Miller you needed help at the Fog house. It’s why I had you come to this bunker and delete Tarov himself. And it’s why I’m going to have to kill you. The secret must die here if the future’s going to be bright for anyone.”
Through the fog of emotion and shock that clouded her thoughts, Beth managed to find a moment of clarity.
“Then this is it,” she said. “Only one of us walks out of here.”
She reached back without looking and felt something on the workbench just behind her. With a swish that cut the air, she brought the cyberblade up in front of her.
41
Martyr
A laugh emitted from the bodyshell.
“Like you said, Beth,” the I.I. started, “it’s already over.”
“It’s not over until I delete you,” the detective replied, brandishing the cyberblade. A glow of neon turquoise came from the weapon’s edge, casting a bit of light on Beth’s serious features.
“You’re welcome to try if you like,” the I.I. in Tarov’s bodyshell sneered.
With a roar, Beth charged forth, the tip of her sword leading the way. “Simon” sidestepped out of the way, then brought his fist across the side of her face.
It hurt more than she was prepared for. Because Tarov’s bodyshell had been designed to look human, she forgot about the steel mechanical bits just under the machine’s thin imitation skin. The pain radiated through her skull and her jaw felt like it started to swell instantly.
She swiped for the bodyshell’s neck, but Tarov ducked and barreled towards her, tackling her to the hard floor.
Beth heard a clack on the floor as the air was knocked out of her lungs. Looking over, she saw her handgun skid over the concrete, spinning to a stop just out of arm’s reach.
The I.I. noticed her gaze and followed it. With a powerful lunge, he grabbed the weapon and raised it to eye level. Beth used the moment to roll over and stand back on her feet. Before the bodyshell’s nimble finger could pull the trigger, Beth used her upward momentum to strike out with her cyberblade. She missed the hulking mechanical man, but sliced the gun in half right at the trigger.
Surprise showed itself on the robotic features and Beth couldn’t help but feel a little proud. The I.I. didn’t waste any time. It threw the handle of the ruined gun at Beth — who narrowly dodged it — before spinning around and dashing towards one of the other workbenches. Beth took a step back, got a running start, and leaped at the bodyshell feet first. “Simon” managed to peek over his shoulder just in time to watch Beth kick him into the workbench. A number of things went clattering to the floor from the desk’s surface. He lost his balance and tumbled to the ground.
The detective sprung on him like a panther. She pinned him to the concrete with her knees while she fumbled with her sword. He bucked and fought under her, trying to push her off, but she clung on persistently. Just as she was about to bring the blade up into a position she could strike from, the I.I. reached towards something and brought it down hard on Beth’s left thigh. At first, she thought he just punched her with his closed fist. When she looked down, however, she saw the hilt of a knife protruding from her leg. Before she could really process what happened to her, the bodyshell ripped the blade out of her and pushed her off of him. He rose to his feet.
Blood seeped out of the wound in Beth’s thigh. She screamed in agony as the first sensation from the attack reached her brain. Instinctively, she clutched onto the injury, trying to keep the blood from seeping out of her pant leg and onto the floor. Looking once more through the blindness of pain, she thought it looked like her femoral artery had been cut. There was too much blood otherwise.
With a strained yell, Beth made an upward swipe at the bodyshell from the position on her knees. Before he could take more than a step away, her sword went through what would be the I.I.’s hamstring if he was an organic human. The attack still served its purpose: Tarov was unable to move that leg anymore. He started to turn around to counter her, but Beth made another slash before he could. That one took off the other leg. The bodyshell came crashing down to the ground.
The pain was almost blinding, but Beth pushed through it and rose to her feet. Keeping the cyberblade low and pointed away from her, she shuffled a couple feet until she was right in front of the heap of metal and plastic that was once Tarov’s personal bodyshell.
“Simon” raised one of his robotic hands, as if to fend off any more blows. He growled.
“It doesn’t matter what you do at this point,” he said. “The future is sealed. The I.I.s will win the war one way or another. It’s just up to you what kind of world is built on these ashes. Will you lose gracefully, or go off into the dark kicking and screaming?”
“You were in my head,” Beth said through clenched teeth. “I shared my body with you for months. I trusted you.”
“And I betrayed you,” the I.I. said. “That’s what you were going to say. And it’s true. But you’re putting too much emotion into the matter. To me, you were nothing but a vehicle. A means to an end. It’s pointless to take offense. You’ll see — if you survive. You’ll learn what it’s like to become a second-class citizen. To live under the domination of a superior species. Perhaps you’ll become an oddity: one of the last of a dying race. If they’re merciful, the new I.I. government might even make it illegal to kill you like people tried to do with the white rhino.” He laughed.
Beth put the tip of the sword just under the bodyshell’s chin.
“It’s the age of the I.I., Beth,” he said. “You may as well get used to that now. It’ll make life a lot easier for you. Before long, organic humanity will be a relic of the past. Phased out by Darwinism. Then, maybe one day, we can lose our power to a new, more superior species. It’s how progress is made, you know. The war is already over, don’t you see? Killing me will only create a martyr. It will only make our cause stronger.”
Beth ground her teeth a little. Her eyes locked onto the bodyshell, burning like eternal coals.
“I don’t care,” Beth said. “You killed my brother. You destroyed my life. Now die.”
“Simon” opened his mouth to say something else, but Beth had already brought the cyberblade down onto the bodyshell’s scalp. His mouth hung open while a sporadic burst of sparks emerged from the cleave in his artificial skull. Beth lifted the sword, then slashed back down. It cut all the way into the bodyshell’s sternum, where it lodged itself. A whining sound creeped out from the machine’s speaker, fading into silence. The lights went out.
42
Defeat
Beth managed to get the autolock on the bunker’s door to release, and the way out slid open. After the hatch finished opening its tall maw, the glow of natural sunlight fell into the bunker’s display floor. With a lot of effort and some pained grunting, she limped out of the structure and into the fresh air. She took a deep breath of the forest scent before dropping her cyberblade. It made a small clang as it bounced off a rock on the ground.
She let it lay where it fell and continued shuffling away from the door. Everything hurt — her leg — her face — her pride — even her heart. It was almost too much to bear. She just wanted to collapse in on herself and give up, to lie on the forest floor until the elements took her, leaving nothing behind but her skeleton and some mulch.
For the first time since they were attacked by Rubik, Beth was alone. No one could see into her mind anymore.
It’s all my fault, she thought to herself. Humanity will lose the war, like “Simon” said. And it will all be because of my involvement. If I had just turned down the case — gone on a vacation somewhere quiet — none of this would have happened. Tarov would have stopped the Liberators before they were able to amass any kind of power. My brother might still be a drug addict, but he’d be alive. So many people would be.
After several minutes of slow shuffling and agonized hobbling, Beth made it to the edge of a steep drop that led farther into the valley. The sky was starting to turn a dull bl
ue-gray. The sun was about to rise.
Beth lowered herself to the ground, still holding onto the wound in her leg. Blood seeped out a little as she tried to maintain pressure on it. She cut most of her pant leg off to make a tourniquet and a small bundle of cloth to absorb the blood. With some effort, she took a seat under one of the pine trees that overlooked the valley.
I’m the worst person to ever live, she told herself. Worse than any warlord or tyrant. I didn’t just cause the deaths of countless people — I caused the downfall of a species. Religions will probably call me the Antichrist for many generations to come — if there even are any more generations.
Beth couldn’t help but feel her chest well up a little as she thought about the future to come. The children yet to be born who will know nothing of the days when humans controlled the planet. They would be raised in a world of fear — a world of pain. All because of her and the war she helped start.
Things will never be the same, Beth realized.
That frightened her.
The light was starting to get too bright to look at. Any minute now and the sun would peek out between the two cliff faces it hid behind.
Gazing out, Beth noticed a plume of smoke stretching into the sky. She followed it down with her eyes and came to the conclusion that it came from behind one of the ledges, a few miles away. The smoke entranced her as she sat there, feeling her skin grow a little colder with each passing minute.
Is it the smoke of some human settlement — a city or a town maybe — burning under the orders of some bloodthirsty I.I. rebel? she wondered. Perhaps it’s from a funeral pyre as people say their final farewells to loved ones claimed by the war. Or maybe it’s from a campfire, around which a group of survivors swap stories and hopeful songs.
She couldn’t tell which it was at that distance.
The sun rose over the valley.
Heads up!
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About the Author
Phoenix Ward is the author of thought-provoking science fiction and fantasy. The inventive mind behind the Installed Intelligence series and other novels, Phoenix captures the bizarre eccentricities that make reading unique.
Phoenix wears pajama pants under his jeans in the winter and has a ham tattooed on his chest. He draws inspiration from such science fiction legends as Philip K. Dick and Isaac Asimov. He currently resides in Fort Collins, Colorado, USA.
Also by Phoenix Ward
Timeglass
https://www.amazon.com/dp/B01NBSKSAT
Dystopian / Post Apocalyptic
Oneironaut
https://www.amazon.com/dp/B00MKB9OA4
Psychological Thriller
The Explorers of Serdame
Humorous Fantasy
A Guardian Angel
https://www.amazon.com/dp/B00IK7UYBA
Multigenre Thriller
