by J G Smith
“The elevator responded to his call,” replied the despondent scientist, harshly.
“He’s different.”
“Of course he is.”
The two of them continued back and forth before eventually quieting down. Reuben then brought up the question of his sister’s whereabouts.
“We’re going to the facility’s control room,” answered the gentler scientist. “We’ll have a look for her there.”
The other scientist shook his head. Reuben ignored him, thanked the other and then asked, “How many people used to be here?”
“Before the war?” Reuben nodded. “Before the war, the Albatross Neuron Facility had an employee list of just over six and a half thousand.”
Reuben’s eyes opened wide. “I can’t even imagine that many people in one area.”
The disgruntled scientist rolled his eyes and made a snide remark about his colleague conversing with an Artificial.
§
As they reached the two-hundred-and-ninety-eighth floor, the elevator door opened with its soft ping. The third scientist, from the laboratory, greeted the other two and hurried them over to a monitor.
The room was filled with them, along with a large dashboard. It flickered with the same red light as the elevator and the room downstairs. The siren, however, was softer – a lot softer.
As the third scientist pressed a button on the dashboard, a scene from the laboratory played – from just after the flash of red light. Questions followed – from “A shapeshifter?” to “Is it an Artificial?” They commented on the dragon, but there was a more immediate threat, “Where did it go?” They were all shocked—bewildered.
They moved around the room and began watching scenes from different parts of the building – from just after the light-wielder’s escape with Aht—her, and just before it arrived dressed as Desiree, Dr Heldrain’s assistant.
“Here,” called one of them, presenting a scene from the ninety-sixth floor.
The monitor revealed the section in the armoury where Reuben was – where the weapon racks had been toppled over. Natalia was there with Private Martin and Desiree. They were speaking with one another before Natalia’s eyes glowed red.
“No,” whimpered Reuben, stepping backwards.
Natalia’s right hand began to glow red, followed by her veins. Desiree picked up a small phase gun. Private Martin pulled out his orb. But it happened too quickly. Natalia’s hand grabbed Desiree’s neck and there was a flash of red light. When the light dispersed, a few of the racks were toppled over and Desiree’s form stood where Natalia was. Piles of ash were what remained of Desiree… and Private Martin.
Just like every other person that died by a light-wielder’s hand during the great war of reality.
Reuben struggled to stand and fought even harder to hold back his tears. Accusations flew against his sister, that she was a traitor to Organics across Alpha Irrilium Prime. Reuben contended that the imposter was not his sister, trying to figure out when she could’ve been replaced. That’s when he remembered the ashen pile before evacuating the garrison.
The arguing continued, until the tolerant scientist from the elevator stepped in. “We can’t turn on each other,” he said. “Not now.”
“He’s not one of us,” retorted the other two.
“Whatever the case,” replied the first, “we still have a dangerous and unknown entity lurking around – not to mention a kidnapped civilian.”
With heavy sighs, and forced steps, the scientists continued to search the recorded footage.
What they found was another flash of red on the one-hundred-and-third floor, just moments after the light-wielder teleported from the laboratory. He had her with him and she was fighting before he said something to her which kept her quiet. It was probably something about Robert.
“The portal,” muttered one of the scientists, fearful.
The light-wielder, still in Dr Heldrain’s form, approached a large steel door and placed his hand on a pad alongside it. The door opened and revealed an awkward white light, warping the area in which it stood.
Reuben recognised some of the formulae from the distorted region. They were a lot like the ones that drew him out to no man’s territory, where he found… you know.
Reuben, wiping the tears from his face, and the scientists, awestruck, watched as the two walked through the transversal anomaly.
“That’s where the other perfect Artificial is,” said the level-headed scientist.
“Robert?” questioned Reuben.
All three scientists turned to look at him with their jaws dropped. “How do you know about him?” There was an unnerving pause.
“Let’s make a deal,” began Reuben. “I’ll tell you what I know if you tell me what you know.”
“You’re in no position to be making demands,” was the immediate response. But, to his aid, the same saving scientist stepped in, again. “We may as well,” he said. “If we can bring Robert back, then we’ll have all three perfect Artificials together. We might just stand a chance at ending this war.” He then added, “That was Dr Albatross’ dream.”
The other scientists glared disapprovingly. “Dr Albatross isn’t even here,” responded one. “And you heard Dr Heldrain, we may have stood a chance if the three of them were kept together and trained to fight from the get go.”
The last scientist added his two cents, saying, “And at the end of the day, they’re still Artificials. Who’s to say that they won’t turn on us like the others?”
Reuben, himself, understood where they were coming from. Though, he still refused to believe that he, himself, was an Artificial. He didn’t want to believe it. He couldn’t.
“What other options do we have?” asked the advocating scientist. “If that thing’s an Artificial—”
“It isn’t,” interrupted Reuben. They asked how he knew and he replied, “Artificials and Organics have unique signatures. I can see those signatures.”
“Yet you couldn’t see that you’re an Artificial,” retorted one of the less than satisfied scientists.
Reuben’s face turned pale. He always knew there was something different about his energy readings, but never considered that he could be an Artificial. But it was more than that. His chemical readings still held Organic traces as well as readings that even the Artificials didn’t have. Some of which he saw in Ahte—I almost said it… Some of which he saw in her. And some of which he saw in the transversal anomalies.
He gulped. And, for the first time, thought that maybe… just maybe he was.
He shared those thoughts with the scientists, paused and, with his head held low, continued, “But that shapeshifter doesn’t have any Artificial readings. He’s Organic. He’s… human. But different. I think he’s from another world.”
The consistently pessimistic scientist threw his hands in the air. “We’re not equipped to deal with that. We have our own war to worry about. Which we’re barely surviving, I might add.”
“Let me go,” begged Reuben, asking to go after her. Right now, she was the only person he trusted—the only person he knew he still had left.
“No,” said the pessimistic scientist.
“There’s been a plan set out from the beginning,” retorted his sanguine colleague. “We just need to make a few adjustments.”
The third scientist just shook his head. But it was eventually agreed that Reuben would go, on condition that he return with Robert.
The web binding Reuben’s hands was removed. He was asked a few questions about where she came from and what he knew about Robert and his universe. He told them everything he knew.
“And you’ll be fine with the language?” they asked.
“Yes,” he asserted. “But I’ve actually been working on a translator, if I can have the tablet back.”
“That won’t be necessary,” answered the advocating scientist. “We already have one. There are scientists on the other side that we’ve been working with—”
“Who
oppose Dr Heldrain’s views,” snarked the antagonising colleague.
“They make more money in their universe following Dr Albatross’ outline,” said the third, shrugging his shoulders. Private Martin’s tablet was returned to Reuben. “We’ll brief you on what we know about that universe,” they said. “But first you need to hear from Dr Albatross.”
“I thought Dr Albatross was taken by the Artificials?” questioned Reuben.
“That’s part of the plan,” they said, “but, no. These are recordings. They’ll help you understand why he did what he did and what we’ll need you to do when you return with Robert.”
This was a lot for Reuben to take in. But, right then, busy was good. Busy held back the tears—the anger—the confusion.
§
Meanwhile, she and the light-wielder stood face to face with a pack of woodsma in the Phantom Forest. That is, the Phantom Forest of the Spectum universe, on planet Lithon. It’s moon, Lunarea, allowed them to see just enough while Hyacintho and Caerulea continued to proclaim day on Alpha Irrilium Prime.
The light-wielder began glowing red. He was a little confused by their location, but he was ready to face the woodsma. His hostage stepped backwards until she felt herself press against an inya tree. They were in the same spot she first recalled being before Robert found her. The same place she was thinking of before they stepped through the transversal anomaly.
As she watched the light-wielder, an image from the end of her dream on Alpha Irrilium Prime returned, as clear as day. She saw, and remembered seeing, Robert and the light-wielder running in the forest – at the same spot she now stood with that same light-wielder and the woodsma.
She clenched her fist and pressed it against her chest, almost as firmly as her back was against the tree. The vision flashed… and flashed again. There was a red light flickering rapidly from the light-wielder and a continuous electric blue surge from Robert. The two of them kept blinking from one spot to the next until…
Tears rolled down her cheeks.
She pushed herself to her feet and wiped her face dry. “I won’t let it happen,” she whispered to herself, firmly. “I’ll prove that shadow from the tombs wrong.”
That’s when she realised the light-wielder had killed the pack of woodsma. He had a few scratches on his face and arms which burnt away with the red light seeping from his skin. Well, Dr Heldrain’s skin.
“…I hope,” she ended her words, accompanied only by the beeping of nighlops.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
HOWL, DECEIVE, PLEA
The scientist that defended Reuben returned to the control room with a flash drive in hand, allowing Reuben to groggily set up a wireless link between it and Private Martin’s tablet. The two other scientists left as the files loaded—to make preparations of some kind. It was evident that they were afraid and that they had no idea what they were doing. But I don’t blame them. I remember what it was like when the light-wielders came… and the army of Artificials.
The red light across the facility continued to saturate every corner, but the siren had sung its last note. The stage was set for the first recording. Reuben sat down with his back against the foot of the dashboard, yawning, while the scientist continued to stand.
“Testing. Testing,” began the playback, as loud as the tablet allowed. “You’re listening to Dr ZK Albatross. I am a DNA Reconstructionist and Experimental Physiologist. Seventeen years, eight months and fourteen days have passed since the extinction prognosis. The human population is down to two point three billion and the number of eukaryotic species remaining on Alpha Irrilium Prime is estimated to be one point seven million. The council has sanctioned my research proposal to create Artificial life capable of withstanding atmospheric degradation and increased solar radiation, and then to fuse it with Natural and Organic life. The intention is to accelerate the evolutionary process.”
“If we can’t stop the environment from changing, we need to change with the environment,” muttered Reuben in unison with the recording. He had been taught this in his schooling for as long as he could remember. The scientist standing over him watched concernedly. “But he couldn’t have been more wrong,” added Reuben on his own, softly, remembering more of what he had been taught growing up. “Artificial life is a threat to Organic life.” He felt a lump in his throat. “So far as I know.”
The recording continued, “There are forty-seven scientists and administrators assigned to my team. If it is a success, more will be added and a new facility will be established for this assignment alone. This is day number one—my first report. A more detailed report is attached in writing.”
The tablet almost fell from Reuben’s fingers as he listened, prompting the progressive scientist to ask, “When was your last sleep phase?”
Reuben shook his head. “There’s no time for sleep. Do you have epinephrine?”
The scientist’s face stretched, flabbergasted by Reuben’s response. “You’re going to burn yourself out,” he warned.
Reuben barely flinched. He didn’t even blink. The scientist shrugged, giving in without much of a fight. “Okay,” he muttered, before passing the request on to one of the other scientists from his tablet. “I’ll ask them to bring something to eat as well. I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.”
Reuben tried forcing a smile, but all he managed was a heavy exhale. Still, it was clear that he appreciated the offer. “I never asked your name,” stated Reuben.
“Amé Bourdon,” answered the scientist, without missing a beat.
Reuben nodded, managing a small simper, and selected the second file on the flash drive. Amé then joined him on the floor, and against the dashboard, as Dr Albatross’ voice continued to play.
“This is Dr ZK Albatross. Report number two. It has been seventeen days since the Artificial life project began. The human population has dropped to two point one billion and the number of eukaryotic species is down to an estimated one point five million. Since the project began, we’ve had sixty-seven failed batches and thirteen team members abandon ship. Our current facility has been exposed to increased solar radiation—the atmosphere in this region remains with only trace amounts of ozone. Two of our team members have been exposed to radiation sickness…” His voice faded. Even he seemed to be doubting his project’s potential. There was a cough—as if Dr Albatross was pulling himself together. “It doesn’t look good,” he continued. “We’ll be searching for a new location and starting from a different angle—DNA.”
The third recording started with a heavy sigh. “This is Dr ZK Albatross. Report number three. It’s been thirty-eight days since the Artificial life project began. We’ve found a location for the new facility, but the space and resources appointed to our team is limited. One of the other teams have found a way to stabilise Alpha Irrilium Prime’s electromagnetic field and to generate new ozone. Perhaps there won’t be a need for Artificial life after all – not that we’ve had any successes to speak of.”
With a big yawn and eyes barely open, Reuben piped, “Yes! Forget the Artificials. That’s what you should have done.”
The recording ended with a despondent Dr Albatross, “And with a team of thirty-two…” There was a long pause, white noise, then nothing but silence.
“We’ve done it!” exclaimed Dr Albatross at the start of the fourth recording. This just about startled Reuben wide awake, as well as Amé. “This is Dr ZK Albatross reporting for the fourth time. It has been eighty-seven days since the project began and we’ve finally done it!” He panted as he rushed through his words, excitedly so. “We’ve successfully created Artificial self-replicating—”
The elevator doors opened with a soft ping, disrupting Reuben and Amé’s focus on the recording. One of the other scientists walked through, into the control room, with a sealed injection and a paper bag. Reuben paused the playback as Amé accepted the two packages.
“I hope you know what you’re doing,” breathed the scientist to his colleague, eyeballing Reuben.
“I do,” replied Amé, albeit not very convincingly. “How are things downstairs?”
“As good as can be expected,” he replied, with a shrug. “I don’t know. After that commotion earlier, I’m surprised the Artificials aren’t already on our tails. But with only three of us—”
“Six,” corrected Amé. “There will be six of us and they will be ready. They have to be.”
His colleague shook his head and, walking off, chirped, “I hope so.”
Amé removed the seal for the injection and prepared it for Reuben – who picked himself up from the floor. “I can do that,” he asserted.
“You sure?” questioned Amé with a crooked brow. Reuben simply put out his hand, unfazed. “Okay,” relinquished Amé, handing over the injection and watching as Reuben pumped himself with the adrenalin, without much conscious effort. This prompted another disconcerted comment, “You’re surprisingly good at that.” But, again, Reuben wasn’t compelled to respond.
The two of them sat back down and opened the paper bag to find two well-preserved sandwiches.
“Wait, that’s food?” asked Reuben, puzzled, but also pleasantly surprised. It wasn’t the kind he was used to.
“Yeah,” snickered Amé, understanding the overall dearth of food on Alpha Irrilium Prime. “We have quite the reserve this side.”
Reuben’s eyes glistened in delight. He opened the clear packaging and took a bite. “Scrumptious,” he said, actually smiling. He nestled himself closer to the ground and pressed play on the tablet.
Dr Albatross’ voice continued, “While the electromagnetic field and ozone generation project managed to decelerate the extinction prognoses for humans, the estimated number of eukaryotic species continues to rapidly decline. Artificial life may prove useful after all. Once again, this is Dr ZK Albatross. More to come.”
Reuben was already halfway through his sandwich when he selected the next file. “This is Dr ZK Albatross. Report number five. One-hundred-and-forty-nine-days have passed since the initiation of the Artificial life project. The human population is at a steady two billion, but it doesn’t help that most people are refusing to breed. I suppose they don’t want to bring anyone into this dying world. I get that. But if we don’t fight, the world dies faster—we die faster. Right now, my team consists of three-hundred-and-ninety-seven and we’ve been granted seven floors to operate in here at the ever-expanding facility. We’ve progressed from self-replicating DNA to forty-eight well-developed Artificial foetuses in incubation.”