by G Sauvé
The sight that greets me upon reaching the cavern is even more shocking than the one that now lies behind. The once empty cavern where Kara and I were first reunited is unrecognizable. Five hundred clones are scattered throughout the vast chamber. Most lie about, recovering from their recent physical activities, but some are busy quenching their thirst by the lake’s edge. Others are hunting, an activity that has grown quite common. Though land creatures are oddly lacking in this underground world, the aquatic wildlife is abundant. Fish and other marine animals make up the bulk of the army’s diet. Every once in a while we manage to sneak in some bread, but that’s a rare treat that few get to enjoy.
An area of the cavern has been designated as the official training grounds. There, Jonn spends his days teaching the brute clones to fight. Tentative and weak at first, the men have now become quite adequate fighters. They still appear as mere amateurs compared to Jonn, but I suspect most of them could easily kick my butt. Not only does my last official training date back to the days when Virtuality Trainers were still commonplace in Atlantean military culture, but my time spent in the mines has weakened me more than I care to admit. Luckily, my new role as supervisor means I no longer need to worry about collapsing from exhaustion. That doesn’t mean I spend my days watching my workers mine, but my time putting pickaxe to stone is limited.
Jonn and I rarely see each other as our respective duties keep us busy. Divided into two roughly even groups, the bulk of the army splits its days between mining and training. The first group trains while the second one extracts ros’tal crystals. Midway through the day, the groups switch, thus ensuring everyone spends an equal amount of time training and mining. On the rare occasions when Jonn and I get to interact, he subtly—or not so subtly, depending on his mood—lets me know his work is more important than mine. In other words, it’s life as usual.
Kara spends her days working with the dozen or so smart clones I helped create. She trains them in stealth and strategy. Thanks to A’lara, who managed to get her hands on a small number of glove guns, she also trains them in the use of the Kra’lor weapon. Powered by a small cluster of ‘tal fragments, the gloves are incredibly powerful. A single blast is enough to destroy a sentinel, which could well tip the balance of power in our favour. But no amount of firepower will make up for lack of training. As such, my girlfriend has spent the last two weeks teaching the smart clones all there is to know about the robots. Though she knows far more than me about the inner workings of the sentinel population, there’s much she has yet to learn, so A’lara spent the first few days assisting her. I haven’t seen the alien of late, but I suspect she’s off somewhere, doing whatever she can to help the humans. I don’t know her that well, but I’m quite aware she’s directly responsible for our current progress.
Once I’m done taking in my surroundings, I decide to pay Kara a visit. Our schedules have been hectic of late, and we’ve only spent the occasional moment of solitude together. The prospect of seeing her fills me with excitement.
I head toward Kara’s training grounds. On the way there, I pass by a large heap of stones resting against the cavern wall. It’s hard to believe that, deep beneath the mountain of rubble, stands a tunnel leading to the cloning facility. Though blocked, the mouth of the passageway could easily be accessed, though doing so would require moving the shelving unit A’lara placed in front of it. The thought worries me, but A’lara assures us the lockdown we caused to create our clone army was reversed, and the daily operations have resumed. The odds of the tunnel being found before we put our plan into action are slim. Still, I refuse to grow complacent.
I travel the entire length of the cavern before reaching the smart clones’ training grounds. It’s nothing more than a small area of bare stone, but the black marks that make up most of it tells of the hard work that took place. Speaking of hard work, Kara is currently running a drill. Not wanting to interrupt, I hang back and watch.
The twelve smart clones stand in a row, a dozen metres or so from the cavern wall. Facing it, they impatiently wait for their number to be called. Standing off to the side, Kara retrieves stones from a small pile and throws them into the open space between the clones and the wall. Each time she does, she calls out a number, and one of the clones aims his glove gun at the stone and fires. The blasts are powerful enough to send the rocks flying toward the wall, but inoffensive enough that an accidental misfire won’t result in someone’s death.
“Great Job, Seven,” says Kara after calling upon the same clone twice. I find the use of numbers impersonal, but I understand the need for it. Not only does it make keeping track of the clones easier, but it will make their inevitable deaths less painful. Still, I can’t help wondering if, perhaps, we’re taking things a little too far. Cloning people is one thing, but forcing them to train and mine for a revolution they won’t even get to enjoy seems cruel. But what’s the alternative? Train real humans? No. Enough people have died because of us. Still, the thought of so many clones perishing turns my stomach.
“Let’s try something a little different…” begin Kara, but her voice trails off when she notices me. She smiles and waves. I wave back, ignoring the jealous stares I receive from the smart clones. I can’t quite figure out whether they’re attracted to Kara or merely think of her as a mother figure, but they always act overly protective whenever I’m around.
“All right,” says Kara. “That’s enough for today. Good job, everyone. You did great.”
She rushes toward me and leaps into my open arms. I welcome the feel of her body, but the kiss that follows puts the embrace to shame.
“How was your day?” she asks once our lips part.
“Good. You?”
“Great. They’re really starting to get the hang of the glove guns.”
“Will they be ready in time?”
Kara nods.
There’s a moment of silence during which we share another kiss.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” I ask. Though I don’t actually say it, we both know what I’m referring to.
“We’ve been over this. The plan won’t work unless we interrupt the distribution of the compliance drug, and the only way to do that is for me to return to the kitchen.”
I shiver at the mere mention of it. Kara told me what goes on there, and the thought of my girlfriend handling chopped up corpses repulses me. Unfortunately, Kara’s return to the meat processing facility is primordial to the success of our plan. Freeing the humans will do no good unless they’re of sound enough mind to take advantage of it.
“Don’t worry,” says Kara. “A’lara assures me I will be safe. As long as I’m careful, no one will notice me replacing the compliance drug with a harmless substitute.”
“How long?” I ask.
“A week. Any less and the drug won’t have time to work its way out of the humans’ systems. Any more and the sentinels will notice a change in their behaviour, and we will lose the element of surprise.”
“Are you sure you want to do this?”
Kara nods.
“I’m sure. Stop worrying.”
“I can’t.”
“Maybe this will help distract you,” she says and kisses me.
It does, but when our lips part, the worry comes rushing back. And for good reason. We only have one week left. One week to train five hundred clones. Once the deadline is reached, the revolution will begin, whether we’re ready or not.
Memory 36
W e’re behind schedule. A’lara estimated it would take a week for the drug to work its way through the humans’ systems, yet it’s been nearly two full weeks, and they remain as compliant as ever. With each day that passes, our plan is less and less likely to succeed. To make things worse, tomorrow is a very important day in the brute clones’ lives. Not only will they officially graduate military school—I can’t believe it’s been a full month since we created them—but they will also be reaching their expected expiry date. Though determining the exact moment of their death is
impossible, A’lara assures us it will occur within the next twenty-four hours. In other words, we’re out of time.
“Where is she?” I ask for the hundredth time as I survey the sleeping clones. They lie all around us, snoring away as their life draws to an inevitable close.
“She’ll be here,” says Jonn, but he no longer sounds as certain as he once did.
Kara is late. Really late. Late enough that I can’t help worrying something horrible happened to her. What if she got caught? What if she had an accident? What if—
“There she is,” says Jonn, interrupting me mid-thought. I follow his gaze all the way to my beautiful girlfriend. She advances through the army of sleeping clones, looking exhausted but happy.
“Where have you been?” I ask as soon as she’s within earshot.
“Doesn’t matter,” she says, still beaming. “I have great news.”
Jonn and I exchange a perplexed look.
“What is it?” I ask.
“It worked.”
“What worked?” asks Jonn.
“Our plan. The humans are starting to awaken.”
Relief slams into me.
“How many?” I ask, suddenly giddy.
“A few, but it’s only a matter of time before the rest follow. Soon, every last one of them will be drug-free.”
“How long?” asks Jonn.
“One day.”
Jonn and I breathe a sigh of relief. With each day that passed, our plan seemed more and more unlikely, but now that the humans are emerging from their drug-induced compliance, we can finally make our move.
“It’s settled, then,” says Jonn. “We attack tomorrow at dawn.”
Memory 37
W e’re ready. The brute clones were successfully escorted into the main cavern while the men and most of the sentinels were hard at work. Hiding in the depths of the forest, the clones now lurk in the shadows, waiting. Thousands of ‘tals have been arranged in neat piles by the forest’s perimeter. Concealed beneath a layer of moss, the exploding crystals lie in wait.
The humans have been shepherded to the rear of the forest and will remain there for the duration of the battle. The last thing we want is for more innocents to die because of us. Sure, the clones are technically innocent, but they aren’t real. They are mere replicas, trained for battle. At least, that’s what I keep telling myself.
Everything is ready. All that remains is for us to give the signal.
I glance at my friends. Jonn crouches behind a tree, waiting for his moment to shine. Kara stands nearby, looking grim in the glow of the torch she brandishes.
“Is everything all right?” I ask.
She shakes her head.
“I’m not sure this is a good idea.”
Jonn groans. “We’ve been over this. The clones aren’t real.”
“I know, but—”
“They’re going to die anyway.”
“Not the smart clones. They have no definite expiry date.”
“So?”
“How can you say that? Who are you to say who lives and dies? Who are you to—”
Jonn interrupts her by snatching the torch from her hands. Stepping out of cover, he waves it around, signalling the clones that lie in wait.
Nothing happens.
I wait, unbreathing.
Still nothing.
“Why—” I begin, but that’s as far as I get before blasts of yellow energy light up the darkness. Erupting from the flooded tunnels, the beams cut through the row of dormant sentinels that stand guard by the cavern’s perimeter. I can’t make out the regiment of smart clones, but the blasts of energy that blossom from their gloved hands allow me to follow their path as they mow through dozens of robots.
I watch as sentinel after sentinel falls, melted to formless masses by the choreographed attack. Within moments, nearly a hundred have been destroyed. The sight is so unexpected I allow myself to believe Kara’s soldiers will singlehandedly defeat our enemies, but halfway through the assault, the sentinels emerge from their slumber and retaliate.
Three smart clones fall within the first few seconds. The rest retreat, but most are mowed down before they can take more than a dozen steps. Only one clone reaches the forest, but he collapses moments after he arrives. One look is all it takes to reveal he won’t be getting back up. A smoking crater of charred flesh and bones stands where his back used to be.
Kara stares at him, expressionless. I half-expect her to break down into tears, but she merely approaches the fallen clone and, flipping him onto his back, closes his eyes in a sign of respect and gratitude. She then retrieves the glove gun and, putting it on, comes to stand by my side.
I glance at my friends. Both stand tall, staring at the approaching army. The sentinels number in the hundreds. The sound of their feet pounding the stone floor fills the air. The glow of their chests lights up the battlefield. The sight of their powerful frames should scare me, but it doesn’t. My friends and I aren’t alone. We have an entire army backing us up. And we’ll need it because the real battle is about to begin.
Memory 38
T he sentinels advance, chests glowing and eyes ablaze. They march in perfect synchronicity, their metallic feet hammering the stone floor. Closer and closer they get until they seem to fill my entire vision.
I glance at my friends. Jonn stands tall, shoulders back and head held high. Kara is equally unafraid, but I can tell the death of the smart clones weighs heavily upon her.
My gaze returns to the advancing army just as they come to a stop. They now stand midway between the tunnels where so many men worked themselves to the brink of death and the forest where they joined their relatives in the vegetal afterlife.
“What are they—”
“Shut up!” interrupts Jonn.
“But—”
“Shut up, Won’t!”
We stand in silence for nearly a full minute. The beating of my heart is all I can hear. It echoes throughout my ear canals, overpowering. Time stretches on until I can’t take it anymore.
“What are we wa—” I begin, but my grey-haired friend cuts me off yet again.
“ADVANCE!” he bellows. His voice echoes throughout the cavern for a moment before fading away. Silence returns, now more deafening than ever. It persists for a few moments before a new sound drowns it out.
War cries. They erupt from the glowing forest by the hundreds as the hidden brute clones emerge from hiding. They march through the trees, chanting of their upcoming victory. They advance until they reach the treeline. Soon after their arrival, the concealed stacks of ‘tals are revealed. They glow with fierce intensity, lighting up the cavern like never before.
Our plan will work.
The clone army stands at attention, awaiting their general’s orders. The mass of sentinels stands equally still, waiting for us to make the first move.
Silence reigns supreme for nearly a minute before Jonn shatters it.
“Are you ready?” he asks. He speaks the words, but the question is heard by all.
“YES!” cheer the clones.
Jonn smiles.
“In that case,” he says, more to himself than to his soldiers, “ATTACK!”
A powerful cheer rises. It shakes the entire cavern, this time with even more intensity. A stone fragment breaks free from the ceiling and emerges from the darkness. It plummets to the ground, where it explodes in a small cloud of dust and stone fragments. Though innocuous, this small event marks the beginning of what will either prove to be our salvation or our demise.
The sentinels remain frozen for a moment before leaping forward. They march as one, and for a brief moment, I allow myself to be overwhelmed by fear. But then the first ‘tal is thrown, and the apparent inevitability of our downfall is revealed as the impostor it is.
The crystal hits the first row of sentinels and explodes on impact. A shockwave of yellow energy expands outward like the ripples of a watery collision and engulfs all within range. The sheer force of the blast sends th
e neighbouring robots flying. But then the ball of energy flickers and dies and the truth is revealed.
The sentinels are, for the most part, undamaged. Only the automaton that received the brunt of the explosion was affected, and the damage is minimal.
Uh-oh.
I fear our plan may have just been proven inadequate, but we’ve come too far to give up now. The war has begun, and nothing short of death will put an end to it. Unfortunately, the apparent futility of our situation hasn’t gone unnoticed. The clones stand still, staring at the advancing mass of sentinels.
“What are you waiting for?” barks Jonn. “Attack! ATTACK!”
It takes a moment, but the clones finally emerge from their stunned immobility. Fetching ‘tals from the stacks that stand by their feet, they cock their arms and throw them at the advancing army. Not all find their mark, but the sheer quantity of ros’tal crystals that rain down upon the robotic army is sufficient to wreak havoc in their once ordered ranks.
Hundreds of explosions light up the cavern. The powerful blasts send the sentinels flying, but few are those that sustain more than superficial wounds. It takes several direct hits to destroy a single robot. Given the vast number of sentinels and the sheer amount of ‘tals that miss their mark, it quickly becomes evident our supply will run out long before the metallic army is vanquished.
“STOP!” yells Jonn.
It takes a few seconds, but the downpour eventually ceases.
“Conserve your ammunition. Wait until you have a clear shot.”
A ripple of murmurs spreads across the clone army, and soon every last one has been made aware of the new order. Moments later, Jonn gives the command, and the assault resumes.
