The Circuit, Book 1

by Rhett C. Bruno

  “Creator, this unit has arrived undetected.” ADIM’s voice announced through Cassius’s com-link, snatching him from his reverie.

  Cassius had been waiting there with the intention of trying to spot the Shadow Chariot as it pierced the veil, but apparently his gift to ADIM had slipped right by him. It pleased him. Despite Joran Noscondra’s endorsement, the frequency of Tribunal patrols around Edeoria had increased in recent days. From her citadel on the nearby moon, Enceladus, Nora Gressler was the overseer of Saturn and Cassius knew Benjar Vakari was coaxing her to keep an eye on him. The time hadn’t yet arrived for them to discover ADIM, whom he had built in secret. The construction of all androids was forbidden by Tribunal Law. They were considered ‘cheap imitations of life’ that could never feel the presence of the Spirit of the Earth. They were considered abominations.

  “ADIM, I’ll meet you at the docking bay,” Cassius responded before exiting the terrace into his personal chambers.

  It was a spacious room, the smooth, metallic enclosure bearing a shimmery, white tint. A wide bed with sheets of silken, red fabric rested in the corner. It was made cleanly, as though it had never even been used before. Other than that, the room was empty. There was nobody else inside. There were no pictures on the walls. It was just how Cassius liked it.

  He turned out into the adjacent hall which was lined on either side with soundless, holographic busts of his ancestors. Two shallow troughs of water ran beneath the podiums, the water sitting still as stone.

  When he arrived at the corner of the next hallway, he was surprised to see ADIM already standing there. The docking bay was on the other end of the compound, but there ADIM was, standing in front of a sealed doorway with his eyes spinning rapidly.

  From only listening to ADIM’s voice, it was almost impossible to tell the connotations behind his words, but Cassius had learned that the manner in which the smaller lights rotated around his red eyes was an indicator. The faster they spun, the more tirelessly his cognitive functions were working to fully comprehend the situation. The slower, just the opposite. But there were thousands of variations in between. He wasn’t always sure, but Cassius imagined what he saw at that moment to be vexation.

  He approached slowly, but there was no reaction. ADIM’s sensors were fixed on the stark door nested unassumingly into the wall. There were no words on the serrated metal, but through it was a shaft descending into the depths of Titan where an underground lab resided. He had forbidden ADIM from ever seeing the contents of that place, where he claimed all the recorded memories of Caleb resided. In truth it was where heartbreak drove him to create ADIM, and where the mechanisms required to construct more, similar androids remained very operational.

  “This unit would have desired to meet the creator’s son,” ADIM stated without averting his gaze.

  Cassius made a concerted effort to ignore the comment. “ADIM, are you alright?” he asked. He placed his hand on the android’s back in an attempt to guide him away from the door. It wasn’t the first time he had caught ADIM standing vigil at the one place in the compound from which he was prohibited. Cassius wasn’t sure if it was frustration that drew him there. He wasn’t even sure if ADIM could truly get frustrated. Instead, he often figured it was the same type of curiosity that draws a child to defy what he is told to do, just to gauge the consequences.

  “Yes Creator.” He turned his face toward Cassius. It was without expression, but for those stirring, red eyes. “This unit was merely curious as to whether a son, by definition, must be human?”

  Cassius pulled ADIM away and they began walking down the corridor. “What do you mean?” he asked, unsure why his voice suddenly held a hint of apprehension.

  “Before losing transmission within the Earth’s atmosphere, the Creator inferred that this unit may be a son, as Caleb Vale was to you.”

  Cassius took a moment to consider his response. I’ll have to be more careful with what I say around him. Sometimes I forget how malleable the mind of a juvenile is, whether metal or flesh. “Biologically, no,” he answered. “But we humans are so much more than meat and blood. A son, you cannot be, but my child, yes you are.”

  “But not like Caleb,” ADIM inferred as they turned into the hall of holographic busts.

  Quicker than a human child, he sees right to the depth of my words, Cassius thought before saying: “You may have not been birthed from the womb, ADIM, but I created you nonetheless. I loved Caleb more than I can ever convey—”

  ADIM stopped moving, and the abruptness of it made Cassius forget his train of thought. The android was staring toward the tall window at the end of the passage, the images of Cassius’ ancestors lined up down his peripheries.

  “Do you love…” ADIM held out his hand and rotated it to examine both sides. “This unit?”

  Trying not to get choked up from the talk of his son, Cassius turned to ADIM and offered the only answer he could think of. “I gave birth to you. I am your Creator, and you are my progeny. No mere word can express my devotion to you.”

  “Is that what love is?” ADIM’s eyes began to churn more wildly than Cassius had ever seen them before.

  How can I explain such a thing? Cassius wondered. It didn’t take long for him to realize that he couldn’t. How could he define an emotion so powerful that it stirred up tears and blood and war without relent? An emotion so profoundly Human. He settled on the truth. “As best as I can define it, ADIM, yes,” he said. Then he turned and placed his hand on the podium which bore the holographic effigy of his father, Nilus Vale. “All I know is that the significance of blood is a manmade conception.”

  “A man can feel love for whomever he chooses,” ADIM said categorically as he glanced at the bust.

  “Or whom he chooses not to,” Cassius sneered as he steered his gaze away from his father.

  “Did you not love your creator? Your biological father?” ADIM used his holographic camouflage to cover himself in the very image of Nilus Vale.

  “I remain indifferent,” Cassius said, immediately realizing how the bitterness in his tone betrayed the words he thought he meant. “I can’t say that I hate the man, only that he was unworthy of this great gift our ancestors left for us. When the Tribune arrived to occupy Titan; when they came with their massive fleet before the height of the Earth Reclaimer Wars and demanded our unwavering patronage, my father handed over this place without so much as picking up a gun.”

  “This Unit has learned much of the wars from you. Based on the size of their fleet that would appear to be the proper course. Probability of victory was minimal.” ADIM deactivated the projected skin of Nilus and leaned forward over the bust. He extended his index finger through it, the tiny pixels of light splaying around it.

  The response slightly irritated Cassius, but he did his best not to let it show. “A human does not simply lay down his rifle and kneel before his enemies without a fight. That was the day I witnessed the cowardice of my father. The colony of Titan died that day. It became just another righteous arm of the Tribune, and so did I. Once we see our parents’ failures, there is no room to remain a child. I chose to serve those strong enough to take all that he had, and I didn’t see him again until his body was burning to ashes, rejoining the Spirit of the Earth, or whatever it is they call it these days.” Cassius sighed and patted the altar of the effigy a few times. The memories alone were enough to make him weary.

  “Is this why many of the humans aboard the Tribune vessels combated this unit? They must have known death was inevitable, yet they too raised their weapons.” ADIM tilted his head around, his neck twisting so much that it sent a chill up Cassius’ spine. He had killed many men by snapping their heads around that far.

  “We are often not rational beings,” Cassius said. “The best of us can balance that emotion in order to use it as both a shield and a pointed edge. It has taken me a long time to learn to do so, and I realize now that my father’s cowardice may also have saved thousands of pointless lives. But at what cost? The
culture of Titan died with his memories, as it has long escaped mine. A miraculous victory or even a narrow defeat, and our names could have been celebrated for centuries to come.” Cassius paused. The silence from his creation could only mean that either he understood, or was waiting to process more information before judgment. “One day my bust is meant to be featured in this hall amongst my ancestors. To be seen by nobody. I wouldn’t have it here.”

  “The Creator does not wish to be remembered?”

  “I do!” Cassius affirmed, his words coming out sharper than he intended. He moved down the hall until he was beside the bust of Caleb Vale. Caleb, you don’t belong here, he thought sullenly as his eyes unfolded upon the projection of his human son. Just looking at the static face made his blood boil and the hairs along his arms stand on end. He turned back to ADIM. “I just want to be remembered as more than a face of stone or a painting on the wall. I want them never to forget.”

  “This unit will never forget.” ADIM moved in front of the statue and assumed its identity; the youthful, expressionless face of Caleb Vale. “This unit will make sure all humans remember.”

  Cassius turned to his creation and grasped him by the wrist. “We will together,” he said earnestly, his hand trembling as he looked upon the image. ADIM quickly shifted back to his ordinary state.

  Cassius let go and staggered backwards, as if snapping from a deep stupor. He cleared his throat before turning ADIM around and heading back toward the docking bay. “Now, let me show you the fruits of your work on Earth.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN—TALON RAYNE

  Strength Enough to Fight

  The Elder Muse wasn’t much in the way of luxury, but the mining colony of 22 Kalliope had little to offer in such regards. It was literally a hole in the wall. The cold metal shed was half-submerged into rock beneath the asteroid’s upper crust, with walls so austere that it looked like it was never intended for use. The hanging lights fizzled and chattered as the tremor of miners working deep below resonated. It was like something out of the old world, but for the miners it was a second home.

  “Another fuckin’ ace?” Julius flicked a group of cards out of his hand in obvious frustration.

  “I’d say that makes two of a kind, eh Talon?” Vellish smirked, twiddling a pick between his teeth.

  “By the end of the night you’re gonna’ be a poor man,” Talon snickered. He took his time placing the winning hand down, enough to rub it in.

  “Night’s keep endin’…I still wake up poor,” Julius grumbled. He leaned over the table and hauled in the cards.

  “Don’t we all?” Vellish lifted his drink and everyone at the table clanked their mugs together.

  There were four of them, each dressed in their casual garments. Creases sat beneath all of their eyelids from a long day’s work. Julius sat across from Talon. He was a tall, burly man with big, expressive eyes and skin as dark as charcoal. The others were Ulson and Vellish. They were fairly generic looking men amongst miner-types, with not much to distinguish them apart from Vellish’s crooked nose and Ulson’s neck-length hair.

  They were playing a game of cards, one of the few sources of entertainment available in a mining colony. There were no women except for the few brazen enough to work the pits, and they were rarely considered worth looking at. Gambling made the days go by. A slot in the table in front of each of their seats allowed them to place in their CP Cards. There they could access their Pico Credit and put money on the games. Big bets were prohibited so nobody got rich, but a good player could double his profit from a single mining cycle if he was careful. Talon was that player, so crafty he could hardly get a game outside of his own crew anymore.

  “Aye, bot!” Julius signaled to a rusty android strolling around the bar with a tray on its outstretched palm.

  It was fairly archaic in appearance, built years before the Tribune’s genocide of unpiloted automatons took place during the Earth Reclaimer Wars. Afterwards, robotics had become a mostly forgotten art. The settlements of the Ceresian Pact made use of the few models that managed to survive the Circuit-wide cull. Their simple programming, however, only allowed them to fulfill basic services.

  “Another round over here. On me.” Julius tapped the table a few times. The android took its time reaching them.

  “Fucking things take forever,” Talon groused. Watching the bots work only ever made him irritated. Worse now that he knew his lease on life was steadily hurdling toward its end. They moved stiffly, like they were being worked by talentless puppeteers, and always stared forward with impassive, white panels for eyes.

  When it finally arrived, Julius handed over his CP Card and the machine read it with a scanner fixed into its wiry chest before rigidly placing down five glasses filled with greenish liquid. It was Synthrol, or water infused with a certain synthetic toxin that mimicked the effects of liquor. Real alcohol was one of the rarer commodities throughout the Circuit considering the New Earth Tribune refused to produce it, so much so that Talon was sure none of the men sitting in that room had ever been fortunate enough to try it. But Synthrol did the job well enough, and for a small fraction of the price.

  “Thank you for your purchase at The Elder Muse,” it said with its impassive voice. Then it swiveled its hips and it proceeded to another table.

  “Cheaper than a man I suppose. But ain’t no way one of them could ever handle the mines,” Julius said. He wasted no time snatching up his drink. Everybody else followed his lead and lifted their glasses to say cheers to the sentiment.

  “Couldn’t have said it better myself,” Talon replied. As everybody else took a hearty gulp of their drink, he barely took even a sip. He didn’t want any more. One sip was enough to take away some of the ache from his muscles, but he had to make sure he kept his edge mentally. Everyone around the table may have been his friend, but he desperately needed the Pico.

  “Alright, my turn to deal.” Talon grabbed the deck from in front of Julius and began to dole out cards in as nonchalant a manner as possible.

  “You hiding something under those gloves?” Vellish joked before straining to swallow too big a mouthful of his drink.

  The remark caused Talon to freeze for a moment. From his perspective the world went silent. Across the table, Julius almost choked. He was hiding something, only it wasn’t what Vellish was joking about. The truth was that he was dying. Slowly and surely his body was withering away from the Blue Death—an untreatable affliction caused by direct exposure to Gravitum. The effects were beginning to show themselves by making the veins of his hands slightly glow blue. He’d been wearing gloves daily for the past few weeks to hide it since only Julius knew what was wrong.

  “Tal?” Vellish snapped his fingers in front of Talon’s eyes.

  Talon snapped out of it and the familiar din of The Elder Muse filled his ear drums. “Just hands,” he affirmed and began dealing again. He tried not to make eye contact with Julius, who was solemnly shaking his head. “I promise.”

  “Bet he’s got his girl watching us from the rafters or something,” Ulson chimed in.

  Talon placed down the remaining cards. “Or maybe I’m just better,” he boasted. “Enough talk. You guys still have Pico for me to steal!” He took a long sip of his Synthrol, throwing aside his original strategy in favor of peace of mind.

  “Not this time,” Julius declared before peeling back the corner of the cards to see what he was dealt. What he saw made his eyes droop. “I hope,” he sighed.

  The game went on. The drinks kept flowing, and for once Talon didn’t seem to have an edge on his competition. He didn’t care. It was a small price to pay for how good his body started to feel and how clear his troubled mind grew.

  Suddenly the door of The Elder Muse burst open.

  “What a surprise!” Bavor scoffed as he stormed through. “Too weak for your shift, but here as usual playin’ mindless games.” His face was caked with grime and his brawny chest seemed ready to tear through the fabric of his boiler suit.

&nb
sp; “Leave him alone, Bavor,” Vellish said without bothering to look up.

  His head dizzy from too many drinks, Talon decided not to back down a second time. “It’s a game of cunning and percipience,” he declared. “Seeing as how you probably don’t even know the meaning of those two words, we’d all probably be better off if an intelligent man such as yourself stayed out.” Talon took a long sip of his drink, swishing it around in his mouth before slamming the glass down on the table. “You know. Just to give us a fighting chance.”

  The Synthrol may have eased the soreness, but it didn’t make him any faster. Before he knew it, Bavor had hoisted him up by the chest.

  “What the fuck did you say?” Bavor growled, his nostrils flaring as his nose pressed against Talon’s. His breath smelled as foul as the very depths of the mines. The rest of the table quickly got to their feet and it seemed like all the others throughout The Elder Muse were caught in a collective gasp.

  “Comon’ Bavor. We’re all just trying to have a good time after a long day,” Julius said. He put his hand on Bavor’s shoulder, but was immediately shrugged off.

  “Didn’t realize your hearing was just as poor as your brain,” Talon sneered. As he went to grin, a heavy fist crashed into his jaw. Before he could fall back he was flung across the table, tumbling onto his stomach with the wind knocked out of him.

  “He was just kidding!” Ulson shouted as the rest of the crew grabbed Bavor to hold him back. The entire room jumped to their feet, crowding around the spectacle.

  “What? Lil’ girl can’t take a proper beatin’?” Bavor broke free of the others with ease. “Bet his bitch’d be tougher than him. I ought to give her a run back home.”

  Talon snapped. Snarling like a madman, he jolted forward from his knees. Another blow met his ribs, but intoxicated and in such a blind rage, he felt nothing even as they crunched. He grabbed a glass and smashed Bavor across the temple with it so hard that the big man howled and lurched over. Then, evading a wild swipe, Talon grabbed him by the head and slammed it into the edge of the table. Blood spurted out. Frantic hands pulled at Talon before he could hit the head again, causing him to stumble backward onto a pile of squirming bodies.