E-Day

by Nicholas Sansbury Smith

  Sometime later, Akira drifted off, only to be woken by thunder. He sat up on the mount and scanned the skyline for a storm, but there was no lightning.

  The ground rumbled, and the horse let out a neigh. He halted and reared his head back. Both ears perked up.

  Kichiro slowly turned, giving Akira a view of orange and red flashes blooming to the east. The troops trekking through the forest started to move faster, alert now. Some broke into runs, others hobbled as fast as their injured bodies could take them.

  Akira spotted a corporal with a long range comm antennae protruding from her backpack. Surely, she would know what was going on.

  “Corporal,” he grunted. “Who are we shelling?”

  She started to move away, talking into her radio. Akira gave the stallion a small kick to the flank to follow.

  “Corporal,” he repeated. “Who are we—”

  “We aren’t shelling anyone.” She lowered the radio and looked up at Akira. “Sergeant, a Coalition horde broke through the lines. They’re hitting Hachioji and Sagmihara with long range artillery.”

  Akira stared at the explosions that seemed to thud in parallel with his pounding heart.

  His wife and their son were in Hachioji.

  Akira whistled and the horse broke into a trot, then a run, and as soon as they were in the open, a gallop. He had heard Dr. Cross’s prosthetics integrated self-healing nanotechnology, and it sure seemed to work fast on the animal’s injury. He hoped that was the case because Akira didn’t want to inflict pain on the animal and needed to get to his family quickly.

  The trees and hills flashed by, the stallion racing through like a demon. Holding on tight, Akira focused on the destination, trying to keep his mind off the pain of his injuries. But the agony was intense. Each bump over the rocky terrain made the fires in his nerves flare.

  He reached into his vest and pulled out a syringe containing a cocktail of stimulants. It was the only thing that would get him to his wife and son. He jabbed it into a vein, and felt the instant warmth rushing through his blood.

  Akira discarded the syringe and clung to his horse. They rode through the night, guided by the flashing of bombs pounding the city where his wife Yui was sheltering with their son Takeshi. Each blast made him flinch and wonder if he would reach his family in time.

  This part of the dream always felt so real, so vivid, like he was there reliving these moments. He could feel each agonizing jolt on the horse that brought him one step closer to the city, and the pain of his aching heart.

  But as soon as he arrived in Hachioji, nearly hanging off the saddle, the memories became hazier. He hopped down to the street and staggered away from the stallion. The horse followed him toward a pile of scree around a building destroyed by the bombs.

  Under the rubble was the shelter where his family had sought refuge. Rescue workers were already combing through the destruction for survivors.

  Bleeding and barely clinging to consciousness, Akira joined the frantic search.

  Just before dawn, they found Yui, still holding Takeshi, both of them covered in dust. The boy coughed and began to cry. Yui was cold to the touch. She had given her life to shield their son.

  The memories faded away like smoke, and a cold sensation washed over Akira.

  ***

  Present Day

  Akira awoke on an operating table. Blurred shapes stirred around him, and tubes snaked out from the ports in his armor.

  Now he knew why his dream had stopped. His suit had detected the mental distress and flooded his system with a chemical cocktail to keep him calm. Growth hormones and nanotech bonding agents entered his bloodstream, strengthening his bones and muscles through the tubes. Much like a teenager, his body was still growing, and wouldn’t stop until the treatments ended.

  The medical staff came into focus, but Akira couldn’t see their faces behind their masks and face shields. They didn’t speak except to ask him generic questions about how he was feeling.

  But something was different.

  He looked around the white room and saw a group of observers behind a glass window. A handsome man, with wavy brown hair and bright brown eyes set above a sharp nose, watched him intently.

  Akira recognized Doctor Jason Crichton, the CEO of Achilles Android Systems.

  But what could he want with an Engine?

  Akira grew agitated from his dream as the doctors continued their work. He closed his eyes, trying to focus his mind on passages from the Warrior Codex that he treasured more than any Earthly item.

  In his mind’s eye, Akira pictured the leather-bound book that had been in his family for five generations. He recited its mottos and quotations, the wisdom of his ancestors, and recalled the stories of their battles and wars.

  Soon, his body began to relax. He focused on his breathing, falling into a deep meditation. The medical staff eventually removed the tubes and departed, leaving Akira on the table in his armor.

  “Captain Akira Hayashi,” came a female voice. “Or shall I call you Akira the Brave?”

  He slowly sat up, his swollen abs and barreled chest muscles flexing. His arms and legs burned fiercely from the treatment, but it was the migraine pounding against his skull that wasn’t normal.

  “My name is Doctor Jason Crichton,” said another voice.

  Akira turned toward the scientist who stood at the entrance to the room. He wore a black suit with silver cufflinks and a silver AAS symbol on his breast pocket.

  “I know who you are,” Akira said.

  Jason walked over. “Hopefully you have heard all good things, Captain.”

  “Mostly,” Akira grunted. “So, you going to tell me why my head feels like it got hit by an energy axe?”

  “That’s why I’m here, as I’m sure you guessed. I’d like to introduce you to someone.”

  “My name is Apeiron,” said the female voice.

  Akira looked around the room but didn’t see the source.

  “I am an OS,” she said. “An operating system.”

  “Artificial Intelligence,” Jason clarified. “Not just any, though. Apeiron is the most advanced in human history, and the first to be coded and merged with a human conscious.”

  Akira narrowed his eyes. “I thought that was illegal.”

  “It was necessary,” Jason said firmly.

  “I was designed for a very important purpose,” Apeiron said.

  Jason moved directly in front of Akira.

  “Apeiron was designed to save humanity,” he said proudly.

  “What’s that have to do with me?” Akira asked.

  Jason smiled, showing a perfect set of white teeth.

  “Today, you and I became linked in a very special way, Captain,” Apeiron said. “I am honored to form this bond with a man of valor, respected by his comrades and feared by his enemies.”

  “You’re now connected to INN, also known as the Infinite Nova Network,” Jason clarified. “The chip we implanted in your skull will also protect you from SANDs.”

  Akira reached up and felt the bandage around his head, the source of the pounding.

  “So I take orders from… a machine now?” he asked.

  “Not orders,” Apeiron said. “I am here to support you. We have the same objectives: end the war, save humanity, and restore the planet.”

  “Send me back to Paris and unleash us on the walls,” Akira said. “That’s the only way to end this war.”

  “You are going back to Paris,” Jason said. “We’re sending you to deliver a message of peace to Dr. Cross.”

  Akira got off the table and stood, towering over the doctor. The man looked up at him, unwavering and confident. The doctor was the world’s richest man and an esteemed scientist and engineer. He used his wealth and intelligence to build restoration sites to help heal the planet, and clean the nanoparticles out of the ecosystems, something Akira greatly respected.

  A solid judge of character, he sensed that
Dr. Crichton had good intentions, but Akira wasn’t thrilled about this new connection to Apeiron, especially not with these new orders.

  “Why send me?” Akira asked.

  “You are Akira the Brave, one of the most respected warriors in the Nova Alliance Strike Force,” Apeiron said. “I studied you, and I have heard about the book you carry, your Warrior Codex. You and I share something in common. We are bound by our individual ethos. Mine to science and AI. Yours to honor and courage. Your word is as strong as your sword.”

  “And you should know I’m not an instrument of peace, but war. The only thing I will deliver to Dr. Cross is a bullet to the head.”

  Akira began to walk away, but a digital hologram of a young woman emerged in front of him. She smiled politely, dimples forming on her freckled face.

  “Captain, I do not think you understand,” she said. “This is not a request. This is an order.”

  “I only take orders from War Commander Contos. Now get out of my way or I’ll walk right through you,” Akira said.

  “War Commander Contos gave the order,” Jason said.

  Akira rotated toward the doctor, unsure at first if he had heard correctly.

  “You are to head to Megacity Paris and deliver a message of peace, without shedding blood,” he said.

  “The War Commander said…” Akira let his words trail off and stiffened to get control of his anger. He knew if these orders were real, and he didn’t have any reason to doubt them, then the War Commander was being forced by the council or some other forces.

  “Peace is a myth,” Akira said after the pause. “Humanity isn’t capable of it. If you knew anything about my Codex like you say you do, you would know that’s why I exist.”

  “I believe you are wrong, Captain,” Apeiron said.

  He stared at the friendly face of the hologram. She looked young and innocent, but deep down he knew the truth—she was a wolf, like Akira. Only she was much stronger than she appeared and more determined than her countenance would let on.

  “That is why we exist,” she added. “But together, we can achieve peace.”

  ***

  Seventeen-year-old Ronin Hayashi punched the bag until his knuckles bled. He was on the second floor of the Droid Raider Complex, a training center for youth in the slums of Megacity Phoenix.

  Fogged windows overlooked the arena. On the dirt floor, a team of young men and women trained against some of the most pathetic-looking Hummer Droids Ronin had ever seen.

  Most of the machines were pieced together using parts from other models. It wasn’t cheap to replace one of the droids with newer models, and the violent game constantly required players to find ways to restore their droids.

  The gladiator sport had taken the world by storm twenty years earlier when it was first introduced in Megacity Tokyo, where Ronin was born. Since then, he had moved to the former United States where his family settled in Megacity Phoenix. He lived there now with his father Kai, mother Lise, twin brother Elan, and his older brother Zachary.

  Zachary was on the arena floor now, using his padded jump shoes and the jetpack built into his armored suit to expertly navigate the obstacle course of tires, destroyed vehicles, and rusty shacks.

  A rookie on the city’s pro team, the Phoenix Lizards, Zachary and his nine teammates were putting on a show for the local at-risk youth. Hundreds of teenagers had come to watch.

  Three first-generation Hummer Droids, with a hodgepodge of mismatched parts, trekked across the dirt in the center of the arena. Another group of droids stood among piles of lumber and metal shacks.

  Ronin looked away and kept pounding the bag. He kicked it, just like his dad had taught him, using his center mass to pack the most power.

  Both Ronin and Zachary were trained in karate and swordsmanship. The training had given them an advantage over the other kids. By the time Zachary hit high school, he was easily the best player on his team.

  Ronin, on the other hand, had to work harder to excel at the sport. He kicked the bag, welcoming the pain to his feet. Sweat dripped down his body as he launched a flurry of punches, over and over, until stars burst before his eyes.

  He was angry, and frustrated.

  That’s what happened when you had an older brother who was bigger, faster, smarter, and better at literally everything he put his mind to. Physically, it was like Zachary wasn’t even related. They weren’t equals as athletes, no matter how hard Ronin tried.

  They came from a long line of warriors. Kai served with the 5th Division of the Nova Alliance Strike Force, and Ronin’s uncle was the esteemed Engine Captain Akira Hayashi of Shadow Squad, a living legend.

  Ronin’s ancestors had fought in every world war over the past two centuries, and in some of the most historic battles in Japan’s history. He had even heard stories about samurai descendants in their family lineage.

  Shouting pulled him away from the punching bag. He went back to the window to watch his brother fight two Hummer Droids at once, using deactivated energy blades to deflect their blows.

  Someday that will be me, Ronin thought.

  The crowd suddenly shot up, fingers pointing across the arena. Zachary rushed over to a teammate trapped under a damaged Hummer Droid.

  “That’s Lenny,” said someone behind Ronin. A fourteen-year-old kid stepped up beside Ronin to watch.

  On the field, Zachary struggled to lift the heavy robot off of the team’s star player. Other players also ran over to help, and a medic pushed through the crowd outside the fence. She reached them with a medical kit as they finally lifted the droid off Lenny, who was screaming in agony.

  The droid had crushed his leg, mangling it.

  “Damn, he isn’t going to be playing for a while,” said the kid next to Ronin.

  A moment passed before Ronin understood what that meant. Zachary was about to get a chance for some field time, which meant he was actually going to start making some real money.

  Ronin rushed out of the gym and made his way down a stairwell to the fence outside the field.

  “Don’t worry, bro! You’ll be back on your feet in no time!” Zachary yelled.

  The spectators clapped as Lenny was whisked outside by medics. The training match started right back up and Ronin watched for the next hour.

  At the end of the practice, he made his way to the tunnel where the players left the arena to head down into the lockers.

  Two other players, Clutch and Starlight walked with Zachary.

  “Zachary,” Ronin called out.

  Zachary stopped right before entering the tunnel.

  “Yo, Ronin boy,” Zachary said. “I’ll meet you outside in fifteen.”

  “Okay,” Ronin said.

  Ronin went to the exit and found his twin brother Elan sitting on a bench, reading a book as usual. The two brothers were identical twins but didn’t look or act all that alike.

  Elan wasn’t into sports like Ronin and Zachary. He was a kind, quiet teenager. His personality reflected the meaning of his Apache name: “friendly.”

  He spent most of his time studying, reading, and playing in VR worlds. The closest Elan got to the gym was where he sat now, at a park table, reading his Commpad.

  “You see that shit?” Zachary said.

  Ronin turned to his older brother who walked outside with wet hair, and a clean-shaven face.

  Ronin nodded. “Lenny really got messed up.”

  “Yeah, but he’ll be okay… In the meantime…” Zachary looked around to make sure no one was listening. Then he cracked a half smile and put his arm around Ronin. “This means I get a chance to shine. And if I get a major deal for the next season, we can finally pay for Elan’s surgery.”

  Elan still didn’t look up from his book.

  “Man, I hope he gets laid soon,” Zachary said. He nudged Ronin in the arm. “Hope you do too, kid bro.”

  “Don’t be a dick. Elan is only seventeen, and you know how shy he is.”

/>   “I was shy, and I got laid at fourteen.”

  “Yeah, you’ve told that story a million times. Lucky you.”

  “Luck has nothing to do with it, little bro.”

  Elan finally looked up and spotted them. He put his Commpad down and signed with his hands: What happened to Lenny?

  Broke his leg, Ronin signed back.

  “That’s why I read and don’t fight droids,” Elan said in his monotone voice. He picked his Commpad back up.

  Zachary smirked. He was never mean to Elan, but sometimes Ronin did feel like Zachary looked down on him, embarrassed of his disability. It wasn’t Elan’s fault that he was born with a degenerative disease. Nor was it his fault that it cost a small fortune to restore his hearing.

  At least Zachary is going to help pay for it, Ronin thought.

  Hover cars zipped by on the street as the three brothers made their way to the subway station.

  “Man, I can’t wait until I can afford a ride,” Zachary said.

  He led the way to the train stop, where several teenagers were waiting to board. They eyed Zachary, some out of respect, others with envy.

  Zachary seemed to enjoy the attention as he boarded the train.

  A Hummer Droid stood in the aisle, watching the kids take their seats. Its digital facial screen displayed the face of the city administrator AI, Emanuel Captor. He had a full beard, glasses, and a high hairline.

  “Please, take a seat,” he said in a smooth voice.

  Phil, a short but muscular kid with red hair and freckles, kicked the droid in the leg. “Oops.”

  “I am sorry. Was I in your way?” the droid asked.

  “Yeah, and you still are.” Phil kicked it again, harder, and the droid backed up. A beep echoed through the cars as the doors closed.

  “Please, take a seat,” the droid repeated.

  Phil laughed. “You take a seat.” He pushed at the droid’s boxy chest, but it didn’t move.

  “How are you ever going to be a Droid Raider with those puny arms?” said another kid.