Rebirth (Archives of Humanity Book 1)
Page 22
“I am not going out like this,” he said aloud. He grabbed Clovis and spun the drone around, pointing his light down the hallway. “Let’s see what we can find.”
The corridor had been flawlessly bored, its walls smooth except for where the reverberating missile impacts had caved in small sections. How far had humans gotten in their dredging of Illythia? How big was this place supposed to be? Leon envisioned a bustling underground metropolis, rows of houses edging along streets cutting through the hollowed Atlas Mountains.
In some ways, that seemed a sadder resolution for humanity than extinction. People chased from the great plains of America, the bamboo forests of Asia, the mighty fjords of northern Europe—rounded up from those places of beauty and freedom to be stuffed underground. To live like moles and cave crickets and blind things.
Leon allowed himself to believe, if only for a moment, that the death of humanity would have been preferred by most. But then he shook that thought away like a bad case of fleas. Hopelessness was insidious and once it sank its talons into you, it rooted into your heart and your very soul and never let go.
Had Illythia blossomed as it might have been envisioned, man would have been better for it. Humanity might go down as many things, few of them generous, but they are the great adapters. They’re survivors. In the end, they thrive.
No matter what, Leon thought, we thrive.
The thought chilled him to the bones. He felt a resurgence of murderous rage directed at the Machines.
“Major General Imus,” called Clovis from ahead. “The path ends here. But I have found something of interest.”
Leon jogged ahead. “What is it?”
“This wall is collapsed. There are cracks in the rubble here, allowing my mapping algorithm to return better and more accurate information. It would seem, based on the data I have received back, we are directly across the room in which the Primes were guarding.”
Leon crouched. He gave a triangular chunk of rock a firm pull, but it didn’t budge. “Are some of them still in there?”
“No. The room appears to have partially collapsed. It is sealed off.”
Leon pinched his lips, thinking. “Suppose you can’t determine its structural integrity?”
“No.”
“Well,” he said, plucking at the metal ring of a thermal grenade in his belt, “let’s find out.” He snapped the grenade free and nodded behind his shoulder. “You should probably—yeah, there you go.”
Clovis sped back down the hall, wings drawn in.
Leon took a few steps back, tossing the grenade up and catching it. “All right, Leon,” he said, talking aloud to himself. “Let’s see if you can blow a hole into the room while not collapsing the goddamn ceiling down on top of yourself.”
He pulled the pin, gave the grenade an underhand toss and sprinted for cover.
Fingers plugging his ears, the explosion clapped like a thunderbolt in his skull. The walls shook, and flecks of dirt and rock showered onto him from above.
Clovis curved past him, racing to what Leon hoped was now an entrance and not a larger pile of immovable rubble.
He turned and went after the drone, saying a silent prayer that involved the words please, fucking, and please.
When he saw Clovis’s beam of blue light streak through a window in the wall, he could have screamed in triumph. Best to let the Machines think he killed himself in a mishap, though.
He slapped the drone on the back of his metal body like he would a good friend, then took to his knees and peered through a cavity in the rubble that was large enough for two of him to fit through.
Clovis was right. There were no Primes.
Yet, Leon wavered as if there were twenty. He rubbed sweat from his eyes, and still the madness was there. Right in front of him.
He couldn’t be sure what he was looking at. Frankly, he didn’t want to know. It was a pair of bloodred eyes staring at you in the dark, a shriek in a nighttime forest when you’re all alone, the crunch of leaves when no one ought to be behind you.
Things that seize your heart, make you wish you hadn’t read all those scary books and watched all those horror movies.
But Leon had come here to gain knowledge, not fear it. He dragged himself through the breach, finger ready to pull the trigger of his rifle at a moment’s notice.
A row of computers was anchored into the wall, and beside each lay a bed encapsulated in glass. Beneath the beds were shelves upon which sat a pair of intricate and high-tech Machines. Tubes and wires protruded from the Machines, feeding into holes cut into the glass enclosure.
Had it not been for the body in one of those beds, maybe Leon wouldn’t have gnashed his teeth and wished for a shot of vodka to calm his nerves.
But there was a body, that of a man, with wires placed on his chest, and no fewer than a dozen tubes feeding unidentifiable liquids directly into his veins. His chest heaved and deflated calmly. Slowly.
Leon could see the pulse of his heart. He counted each one.
Thirty beats per minute.
“My God,” he said as he inched closer. He looked away, hand over his mouth as the urge to vomit came over him. He held it in, if barely. “Clovis, that’s… oh, my God. That’s Ivan Kravst.”
“Major General Imus,” said the drone, hovering near the first console—one with an empty bed beside it. “This appears to have been… yours.”
Taste of vomit in his mouth, Leon dragged himself away from the apparent living corpse of Ivan Kravst.
Leon stood beside Clovis, hands quivering. He read the words on the monitor, small white font against a muddy green background.
This consciousness server belongs to…
Leon R. Imus
DOB: 4-2-2035
Inception of Consciousness: 9-2-2078
Decoupling of Consciousness: 8-14-2572
Inception administered by: Mattias Varugus
Decoupling administered by: UNKNOWN ENTITY
Leon backed away, hand against his temple.
“Major General Imus,” said Clovis, “will you be all right?”
No, thought Leon. He wavered, legs unsteady. It felt like this mountain was the belly of an unwoken beast, digesting reality morsel by morsel. In his wildest imaginations, he saw himself venturing into Illythia to find humans preserved through cryogenics, but this… was something more.
Something infinitely worse. Incomprehensible.
Bent over at the knees, Leon drew a deep breath and straightened. “All right,” he said softly, swallowing the knot in his throat. He inspected the second console.
This consciousness server belongs to…
Orissa A. Servoni
DOB: 2-18-2036
Inception of Consciousness: 9-2-2078
Decoupling of Consciousness: 2-30-2571
Inception administered by: Mattias Varugus
Decoupling administered by: UNKNOWN ENTITY
Onto the next one he went, jaw aching as the muscles in his face tensed.
This consciousness server belongs to…
Rebecca M. Servoni
DOB: 11-13-2006
Inception of Consciousness: 9-6-2078
Decoupling of Consciousness: 03-22-2573
Inception administered by Mattias Varugus
Decoupling administered by: UNKNOWN ENTITY
September sixth, thought Leon. Four day after Orissa and I surrendered our consciousnesses. Why the gap? He recalled then that Rebecca wasn’t present when the council had departed D.C. But who found and brought her here? Further, why had Doctor Varugus administered each inception?
It stood to reason that a third party was required to begin the process of transferring consciousness into the server, but then who transferred Doctor Varugus’s?
Perhaps no one. Could have been that the transferring occurred because there weren’t enough resources available. Maybe they all had agreed on a plan: shiftwork, as it were. Varugus would research the Governor for some time—weeks, months—then decouple another’s
consciousness and transfer his.
“Major General Imus,” said Clovis.
Leon quieted the drone with a raise of his hand. He stared at the screen before him, eyes taking in the words, but his brain didn’t process them. He was deep in thought, solving a complex equation.
That theory doesn’t hold up, Leon decided. The Machines had gained access to Illythia at some point, before the electromagnetic pulse shield should have expired. That was evidenced by Orissa’s and Leon’s decoupling dates. Those dates—February and August, respectively—matched the seasons when they were selected as Rogue Hunters. Leon remembered it being extraordinarily hot when he woke, and Orissa told him she recalled snow on the mountains.
Doubtless the “unknown entity” was a Machine.
Neither he nor Orissa would have agreed to surrender their consciousnesses knowing the Machines could access the servers without protection from the shield. He figured the rest of the president’s council would have rebuffed such a suggestion as well.
He needed more information. To the next console he went. Two more until he reached the intact body of Ivan Kravst.
This consciousness server belongs to…
Susana R. Gilliad
DOB: 10-19-2012
Inception of Consciousness: 9-2-2078
Decoupling of Consciousness: 11-22-2569
Inception administered by Mattias Varugus
Decoupling administered by: UNKNOWN ENTITY
Susan R. Gilliad. The last President of the United States of America. Long gone now, thought Leon.
This consciousness server belongs to…
Mattias H. Varugus
DOB: 10-01-2000
Inception of Consciousness: …
Decoupling of Consciousness: …
Inception administered by…
Decoupling administered by…
Leon freed his flashlight and aimed it around the room. “You see any bones in here? A skull?”
“No,” answered Clovis. “I’m not sure I understand the reason for your question.”
Clicking his flashlight off and stowing it away again, Leon sighed. “Looks like the doctor never had his consciousness uploaded like everyone else. I was hoping for a simple answer as to why. Like, you know, maybe he offed himself. Quiet desperation set in while everyone was asleep, and he put a bullet in his head. Because the alternative—” Leon rapped a nail against the glass screen. “I don’t like the alternative.”
The drone spun attentively.
Leon went for his rifle. “What is it?”
“There are now numerous Machines within this refuge. Their communications over the global Machine Network are ceaseless.”
“Give me a number, Clovis.”
“Over fifty.”
“That’s numerous all right. The Frigg’s blown to hell, we’re in a dead-end hole in a mountain, and there are over fifty very unfriendly Machines wanting to get at us like fingernails at scabs. I hope Orissa’s doing better than us.”
Some might say humor would be misplaced in such dire circumstances. But indeed, when everything is taken from you, humor is the only remaining refuge you have left.
Humor kept Leon’s mind from turning on him. It kept him in the present, kept at bay the loathsome reality that he’d never again see Orissa.
Humor was the only weapon he had left.
He stood before the last console, arms crossed over his chest.
This consciousness server belongs to…
Ivan Y. Kravst
DOB: 3-3-2013
Inception of Consciousness: 9-2-2078.
This server is currently active. To decouple consciousness, please follow the Decoupling Guidelines. For Decoupling Guidelines, please press F2.
Leon watched his finger press the key. It was as effortless as breathing. As autonomous too. The screen flashed.
Decoupling Guidelines
1. Turn Preservation Dial on Preservation System to 1.
2. Ensure mylosynicide levels within clear capsule on Transfer System are full.
3. Press F9 to compose message to present consciousness. This is not required, but it is highly recommended to prevent psychosis upon wakening.
4. Activate transfer from main menu (F1)
WARNING: DO NOT OPEN PRESERVATION CHAMBER!!! PRESERVATION CHAMBER WILL OPEN AUTOMATICALLY ONCE CONSCIOUSNESS IS TRANSFERRED. PREMATURE OPENING OF PRESERVATION CHAMBER WILL RESULT IN SUDDEN DEATH OF BOTH BODY AND MIND.
“He’s been in purgatory for four hundred and ninety-five years,” said Leon. “I don’t remember ever being ‘decoupled.’ Don’t remember what led up to this. What are the chances Ivan does?”
“It is possible,” began Clovis, “that the Machines altered your memories when electing you as a Rogue Hunter.”
Leon nodded. He looked at the drone. “You say you have emotions, Clovis. Have you ever been scared of the truth?”
The drone’s lens shuttered. “I have never sought a question whose answer might be so revealing or disturbing as the one you are presently asking.”
Leon chuckled. “Good answer.”
“There are now over two hundred Machines in the antechamber, Major General Imus.”
He gave the drone a nod of acknowledgment, then pressed F1, returning to the main menu. At the bottom of the screen there were two words, capitalized and bolded.
ACTIVATE TRANSFER
Leon tapped at the arrow keys, moving the blinking cursor until it highlighted that command. He crouched before the enclosed bed holding Ivan Kravst’s preserved body and examined the two Machines sitting on the table beneath.
They didn’t seem to be labeled, but only one had dials—more than a dozen of them—suggesting it was the Preservation System. Leon counted at least twenty tubes and half as many wires leading out of the Machine.
He inspected each dial with his flashlight. Upon finding the labeled Preservation Dial, he turned it from 10 to 1, then turned his attention to the second Machine.
The apparent Transfer System. It had a running network of crisscrossing wires that fed straight into Ivan’s skull, and several connections that went into the Preservation System and the consciousness server.
How this macabre setup worked, Leon hadn’t the faintest idea. Nor did he wish to know. Sometimes secrets are best left buried.
“Does this look like the mylosynicide c—” Leon paused. “Never mind. It says M-Cap right here, so I’m going with yes. Looks full to me. Can’t imagine what mylosynicide is needed for.”
“Possibly—”
“No,” said Leon. “I don’t know, and I don’t want to know. Let’s just… get this over with.”
Returning his attention to the console, he tapped F9 to compose a message to Ivan’s consciousness.
He started, stopped, thought, second-guessed, and ultimately concluded this hesitation with, “What the hell do you say to someone’s consciousness that’s been imprisoned for five hundred years?”
“Be kind,” Clovis offered.
“For now, I guess so.”
Ivan,
This is Major General Leon Imus. A lot has happened, and I need answers. I’m freeing you. Stand by.
Leon looked at Clovis, who nodded his spherical body excitedly. He sent the message, then navigated back to the main menu, cursor still blinking over the ACTIVATE TRANSFER command.
He held a finger over the ENTER key. He was entirely prepared for the key to click and then the mylosynicide to trigger an explosion that’d rip his teeth from his skull. That’d be par for the course given his fortune so far inside Illythia.
There was no grand display of fireworks, however. No thunderous roar. No fanfare whatsoever besides a series of valves opening and closing, gasses hissing.
The screen turned to a black canvas, a white cursor blinking atop it.
A pair of robotic arms unfolded from the bed like aircraft wings, each fully equipped with five metal digits. They worked with seamless precision to remove tubes and wires from Ivan’s body, staunchin
g blood flow, applying gauze and bandages. Every beep of the Preservation System matched a new action taken by the arms.
After several minutes, the only wires and leads that remained were threaded into Ivan’s head. The robotic arms meticulously remove each of them, plugging the holes with long, cylindrical membranes that were inserted deep into Ivan’s head—perhaps into his brain. The endcaps lay flush with his skull.
Both the Preservation System and Transfer System emitted a screeching beep that sunk into Leon’s ears and clawed around in his skull. He was nearly brought to a knee when the noise finally ended.
The Preservation Chamber heaved a great sigh, a gasping release of pressure as it unlocked and opened.
Leon stepped back, tense as a bowstring. The body that lay before him flinched. Its breathing hastened, and the ball in its throat plunged. Eyes moved behind the lids like larvae in their cocoons.
There was a gasp, sharp and brief, followed by the resumption of normal breathing.
Fists clenched, fingers moved.
Wrists rotated, toes flexed.
Feet curled, shoulders arched.
If a Machine dressed in the skin of man were to bootup, this was exactly what Leon imagined it would look like.
Finally, the lids flicked up to reveal a set of blue eyes that could have been mistaken for polished sapphires. Apparently the preservation of a human body led to very colorful retinas.