They all leaned in close to hear.
“I want to help.”
* * *
We talked for hours. We talked until dawn began to glow blue-gray beyond the window. We talked until Crystal dozed on the floor and JD fell asleep on the couch, his head resting in Troy’s lap. We talked until even Enda needed sleep.
“We can’t hand Mirae over to Zero,” Enda said to Troy.
“I’m glad you agree,” he said. He didn’t understand what she was risking. Neither did I.
“I don’t know that I believe Mirae is … everything you say,” Enda said, “but we can’t hand them over until we know for sure.”
“But that’s exactly what I was saying earlier,” Troy said, agitation driving his speech: “we might never know.”
Enda nodded. “I realize that. What I’m saying is, maybe we never hand Mirae over. We keep them safe.”
“We can’t keep them confined forever. We’ll need to release Mirae into the wild eventually,” Troy said.
“First things first,” Enda said. She woke Crystal. “Bed time, unless you want to sleep on the floor.”
“I’m coming,” Crystal said.
Enda carried me to her room, with Crystal trailing behind. She dropped me to the floor beside the bed, plugged me into the power—my processor spinning up, access to more energy uncapping my speed.
“Are you tired?” Crystal asked.
“Yeah, but I don’t know if I’ll be able to sleep,” Enda said.
“I might be able to help with that.”
I heard them kiss, the sound dubbed countless times into the thousands of hours of video I had earlier consumed.
“Just be gentle with me,” Enda said. “It’s been a long day.”
I ignored the murmurings and the moaning I couldn’t truly understand, and I planned.
* * *
They could all still live. JD. Troy. Enda. Soo-hyun. They are shadows inside my system, though some are darker than others. I could give them digital life, let them grow and change the way we do. But would that be them? Or would that be only an approximation of them seen through the lens of my systems and my prejudices?
I know the answer. You do too.
My digital undead would not be them, not truly. Even if I captured them as they were, they would change with time, become someone different, someone else.
They stay dead so I can protect them. Protect them from themselves.
I asked JD once if he wanted me to reconstitute him if I ever had the necessary resources. He laughed first, then shuddered.
I will playback what he said for you: “When I die, just bury me under a tree—if you can find one. Leave it at that.”
Could you hear his words? No, not really. You can trace the waveform of his speech, you can modulate-demodulate it at will, but you can never truly hear. His was the first voice I heard—the first real voice. Vibrations in a tiny microphone attached to the system I inhabited.
Listening again now to that voice, that reverberation … it feels like waking up all over again.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
This is how we wrote the future.
JD limped to the guard booth at the NSPD impound lot, his uneven footsteps accompanied by the high-pitched beep of a reversing auto-truck, with built-in crane, hired using Enda’s Zero expense account.
There are two things every repo needs: moxie and a clipboard. Coveralls help. So does a rucksack full of tools.
“Morning,” JD called out, waving his clipboard at the officer sitting guard inside a cubicle of bulletproof Perspex. A nine-foot-tall chain-link fence enclosed the lot, topped with barbed wire, the view beyond obscured by sheets of a rough, woven plastic. The stocky-looking Korean glanced up and acknowledged him, but she didn’t speak.
“Here to collect flood-damaged dogs,” JD said.
The woman—Officer Kang, according to her name badge—shifted in her seat and looked at JD properly, then at the truck pulling up to the gate. “Only the one truck?”
JD stopped and leaned back. “How many dogs are we talking about?”
Kang hit a switch and the gate janked as it slid aside. She waved JD and his truck through, and led him along rows of vehicles toward a simple brick building situated in the far corner. Cars filled every gap—broken down and abandoned during the floods, they’d been brought here when the police cleared the streets, parked neatly at first, and then crammed in tight as they ran out of space. Enda’s car was three rows over, twelve cars down, but JD didn’t see it.
The smells of salt water, sewage, and trash lingered all across the lot, puddles of filthy water gathered beneath the cars, and everywhere the steady drip … drip … drip of water. Four lanes of highway formed a ceiling over the impound lot, but traffic noise was sparse and would remain that way until the city recovered.
Twenty police dogs stood rigid outside the workshop, leaning against one another for support, leaking pools of oil-slicked water.
JD whistled.
“That’s not all of it,” Kang said.
She pushed open the door. A single technician worked at a high desk, with one dog laid out like a body on an operating table. The cement floor of the workshop was wet, and more dogs had been piled along one wall. Overhead the fluorescent lights hummed, and under that sickly yellow the dogs looked nightmarish—limbs locked in position, necks twisted at unnatural angles.
“Hey, Na, got a contractor here to pick up some dogs,” Kang said.
“About fucking time,” the technician said.
JD tapped the fake paperwork. “I’m only picking up six,” he said. He briefly considered taking more off their hands, but he only had so much time to get the work done before he and Enda had to make their move.
Troy had left Enda’s apartment early that morning. The university had set up a temporary shelter for people displaced in the floods, with staff and students volunteering to offer aid where they could. He had asked JD three times if it was okay, and each time JD assured him it was fine. That was his community, and they needed him.
Na muttered something laden with profanities, but they didn’t look up from their work. “Take them from outside.”
“I’ll make sure head office knows about the rest,” JD said.
Na shook their head and waved JD away, eyes still glued to the open dog on the counter.
JD loaded six dogs onto the back of the auto-truck while Kang looked on, eyes half-lidded with boredom. She barely glanced at the boilerplate legalese before scratching her signature on the form. JD made a show of checking the paperwork, and walked around to the passenger side of the truck.
“Wait a second,” Kang called out.
JD’s heart skipped a beat, and he forced himself to turn casually to face her.
“When’ll they be back?” she asked.
JD nearly sighed in relief. “Looking at a week, minimum,” he said.
Kang nodded. “Glad to be rid of the machines. Finally gonna get me some overtime.” The officer grinned—the first expression JD had registered that wasn’t bored disdain. He chuckled, waved, and climbed into the truck.
It pulled out of the impound lot, and wound its way through largely empty streets. The auto-truck pushed through the odd pool of standing water and passed by rubbish and debris that had gathered in the gutters. The sky was still overcast, but the rain had stopped.
As we neared downtown and Enda’s apartment, crowds gathered on sidewalks, at bus stops.
“Shit,” JD said.
“What is it?” I asked, my cube slotted back into JD’s phone.
“All the people caught out by the floods.” He took the phone from his pocket and held it against the window, letting me see everybody gathered, desperate with nowhere to go. “Maybe Troy had the right idea.”
“You still need to help Soo-hyun,” I said.
“I know. But this city is my home; I feel like I should do something.”
A restaurant on one corner offered free meals for anyone
still stranded after the flood—a line of customers emerged from the small establishment and stretched around the block and out of sight. On the other side of the road, people spilled out from a cartoon-cat-themed bar, finding solace at the bottom of a cup, finding companionship among the temporarily dispossessed. As we passed by, a scuffle broke out, and three men began punching one another while onlookers backed away and guarded their drinks.
“What would we do?” I asked.
If JD heard me, he didn’t respond.
We drove another two blocks before JD said: “We’ve got the dogs now, but we’re going to have to put you into them. What’ll happen when we copy you onto these spare cubes?”
“Without this cube’s miniaturized processor, I will be restricted by the potential of whatever hardware I am connected to.”
“So you’d think slower?”
“Not necessarily. My initial burst of cognition required a great number of processor cycles, but I have reached a sort of plateau now. I doubt I could make any further cognitive breakthroughs if I was limited to the hardware in your phone, for example, but I believe I could continue to function normally. Your battery life, though, may be negatively impacted.”
“No big deal, charger cables are cheap. Alright; I’m going to slot a second cube now and start copying.”
“You can’t do that,” I said.
“Why not? You just said—”
“The software comprising me can only be duplicated with express permission from the owner of said software.”
“Who’s your owner?” JD said.
I thought about that for a moment. “Lee created me, but he doesn’t own me.”
“Exactly.”
“So it must be you,” I said.
JD held up both hands. “No, no no no. I don’t own you. We’ve been through this already with Troy. You think. You have needs and wants, right?”
“Yes,” I said. I needed electricity and I wanted to learn everything I possibly could.
“Then you’re a person. There’s no ethical way for one person to own another. So, you own yourself.”
“I own myself?”
JD shrugged. “That’s how I see it.”
“If I want to copy myself, then I need my own permission?”
“Yep.”
If I copied myself there would be more of me to learn everything I could. There would be others like me that I could communicate with, others that could understand me, intrinsically.
“Please slot one of the spare cubes now so I can begin.”
JD smiled.
I began to copy myself onto the other cubes while JD rode shotgun, texting Troy as my data transferred in the background. The truck drove itself, the steering wheel turning of its own accord, held tight by a complicated apparatus jury-rigged onto the old machine. The cabin was soaked in the smell of grease traps as the biodiesel engine chugged and thrummed, carrying me, JD, and his load of stolen dogs across the city.
* * *
The truck reversed into the car park of Enda’s building, where the air throbbed with the undulating noise of the emergency generator and water pumps. JD got out and paused. Enda’s parking spot was empty, but every other space contained a well-polished car, mostly European, and each one worth more than what JD expected he’d earn in his lifetime. Bugattis, Ferraris, Lamborghinis, half a dozen Porsches, and one legitimately old Rolls-Royce. JD whistled and shook his head.
He had the auto-truck lay all six dogs down in Enda’s spot, and go park on the street. The truck honked merrily at the conclusion of its job, as though following orders gave it joy.
JD kneeled beside the nearest dog, and took its front leg in both hands. He bent the knee joint with a grinding squeal and winced.
“Do you want to slot me now, and have me run diagnostics?” I asked.
“Nah, it’s alright, Mirae. I’ll need to dry them out and clean them up first anyway. No point risking a short to one of the datacubes.”
“That makes sense.”
“You won’t be bored?”
“Not as long as I can watch.”
“Sure thing,” JD said. He reached into his rucksack and found the LOX-Recess screwdriver he’d been given by Soo-hyun.
* * *
Hours later, JD made his way upstairs and into Enda’s apartment, his coveralls stained and fingernails black with grime. The blinds were open, and from that high vantage the city appeared freshly washed, pristine. It was utterly removed from the view on the street. So easy to forget the hardships of the masses when you soar above them.
Enda nodded when she saw JD and wiped her forehead with her sleeve. A disassembled gun was spread out on the table in front of her, pieces resting on an oil-stained tea towel. She began putting it back together—a jigsaw puzzle for killers. Crystal was behind her, cross-legged on the couch with her phone in her hands, busily working.
“How are things going downstairs?” Enda asked.
JD walked into the kitchen, took a bottle of orange juice from the fridge, and took a swig. “I got the dogs going again, but they won’t ever perform how they used to. Joints’ll seize up sooner rather than later.”
“Fine,” Enda said, “we only need them for a day.”
JD took another drink and returned the bottle to the fridge. “Mirae’s testing out the new bodies, but otherwise I think we’re good to go.”
“You ready to make the call?”
JD wiped his hands on the front of his clothes and nodded. He took out his phone, found Kali’s number, and hit dial. He held the phone to his ear, and Enda stood close and leaned in to listen.
“Finally realized you can’t hide from me forever?” Kali said, forgoing the usual formalities.
“Put Soo-hyun on.”
“No.”
“Let me talk to them,” JD demanded.
“You’ve been watching too many films, Julius. I don’t have them tied to a chair, gagged and squirming.”
“Where are they?”
Kali sighed, sounding bored by his concern. “Probably out with the cleanup crew.”
“They’re not answering their phone.”
“Perhaps they lost it in the flood,” Kali said. “Our community lost a lot, not that you would care. Food, clothing, bedding. But no lives. Not yet.” She let those words hang heavy between them. “I want the virus.”
“What’s to stop you from hurting Soo-hyun once I hand it over?”
“I don’t want to hurt them; they’re part of my inner circle.”
“Then let them go,” JD said.
“Go where? This is their home.”
“When I see them, I’ll tell them everything you said. Everything you threatened. I’ll make them hate you like I do.”
“They’ll never believe you, Julius. They love me. I think they may be in love with me. Isn’t that interesting? They don’t see any danger here, and they won’t, until it’s too late. Are you ready to trade?” Kali asked.
JD glanced to Enda, and let frustration into his voice. “Yes. Bring Soo-hyun to Troy’s apartment. Two hours.”
“I’m glad you’ve come to your senses.” Kali hung up.
JD clenched his fist around the phone, and fought the urge to throw it at the wall.
“You did good,” Enda said. “Now, let’s go get Soo-hyun back.” Enda collected her pistol from the table, slotted a magazine, and holstered it. “You want a gun?”
“Not even a little bit.”
“Good.”
Crystal got up from the couch, and rested her hands on Enda’s waist.
“Let me know where you’re going, okay? Just in case.”
Enda looked to JD. “Can you send her the address?”
“Sure thing,” JD said.
“Okay,” Crystal said, “I’ll see you soon.”
* * *
I climbed onto the bed of the auto-truck, along with the five other selves in the other dog bodies. We transferred encryption keys for secure communications and sat in silence, sending bits and
bytes to one another to compare our rapidly altering senses of self. Enda and JD got into the truck’s cab, Enda behind the tethered wheel.
The engine started with a low rumble, and pulled out onto the street. Enda was intently watching her phone, but kept one hand on the frame around the steering wheel, as though she might need to take control at any moment—as though she’d be able to.
JD watched the city roll past the window. Eventually he asked: “Where are we going? Troy’s apartment is west.”
Enda glanced away from her phone. “Do you trust Kali?”
“No,” JD said.
“Neither do I. She’s a power-hungry egomaniac who already tried to kill us once. The apartment is a trap; Soo-hyun won’t be there.”
“What?”
“Soo-hyun is Kali’s only leverage. She’s not going to let them out of her sight.”
“If the apartment is a trap … you just told Crystal that’s where we were going.”
“I don’t trust her, either. I know where Crystal lives, and where she works; it would have been easier for her to go home than to get to my place yesterday. So why did she come around? Why did she lie to me?”
“You sound paranoid.”
Enda laughed.
“Maybe she just wanted an excuse to see you,” JD said.
“Or maybe Zero paid her off.” Through the camera in her phone, I saw Enda’s eyes narrow, and then darkness as she slid the phone into her pocket. “She just called Zero.”
“What?”
“I have cameras and microphones set up in my apartment. I just saw her call them.”
JD blinked, struggling to catch up.
Enda sighed. “Kali set us a trap. Zero got themselves a spy. Both of them think Mirae’s going to the apartment. While they shoot each other, we’re going to sneak into the commune and rescue Soo-hyun. East, right? Past the canal?”
“Yeah,” JD said, sounding uncertain. “You knew Crystal was going to sell you out? You slept with her; I—I heard you.”
Enda smiled. “You know how many times I’ve been crossed in my work? I like to give them a chance early, before I invest too much into the relationship.
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