by S. B. Divya
Welga opened her eyes. Ao Tara floated across from her bed, which stood nearly upright. Webbing held her body against the bed’s surface. Cheap, stone-patterned walls and floor surrounded them, seamless and, judging by their pristine state, self-cleaning. Behind Ao Tara, a clear wall separated them from a surgical area. A multi-armed bot nearly filled the space on the other side, its complexity like nothing Welga had seen. A station map, low in her visual, indicated that they were in an area marked MEDICAL, closer to the hub than the room where she’d been detained.
Welga looked straight into Ao Tara’s eyes. “You have a dakini here. Do you build them?”
A slight smile curved the monk’s lips. “ ‘Build’ is an interesting word choice. The dakini are born here. We developed the technology to give them life.” The smile vanished. “Do you know why we create them?”
“I’ve read the Machinehood Manifesto. You want the dakini to take over the world.”
Ao Tara waved dismissively. “Such exaggeration. The manifesto contains truths, but Eko-Yi’s purpose goes beyond it. You cannot free your limbs until you feel the ties that bind them. The Machinehood is a first step, a way to get humankind to notice their shackles. Our Neo-Buddhist precepts frame the eightfold path in a modern context, and the dakini are the hands that lead us to right understanding, to feel the bonds that keep us from moving. After that, we must step into right action. We don’t want the dakini to take over in the sense of governance or even power. We want them to guide the transformation of society, to bring all forms of life and intelligence into a harmonic existence. To end the centuries of greedy, selfish living that have destroyed the health of the planet and its life-forms. The dakini set an example of what we can all become.”
Welga had to act like she intended to be an Eko-Yi citizen, but she couldn’t help asking, “You admit that you give birth to the dakini here. Did you create the Machinehood, too?”
“I did not. But I have allowed its mythos to spread.”
“Then who’s behind the attacks? The al-Muwahhidun?”
Ao Tara smiled. “Of course, with your background and America’s experience, that’s what you would think, but no, our relationship with the empire is different. The caliph learns from us, not the other way around.”
“So he’s funding your operation.”
“Not intentionally, but we do take his money. He has a goal for the world. We have a different one. The original idea for the Machinehood and the dakini came from a visionary man, the one who led Eko-Yi to independence.”
“Kanata?”
Ao Tara nodded. “I’m carrying on his work.”
The admission came so smoothly, so matter-of-factly, that it took Welga a couple of seconds to realize its magnitude. She had thought she’d need days or weeks to discover the truth about the Machinehood. Ao Tara had confessed it with utter nonchalance.
“And the technology itself?” Welga pressed. “Did the al-Muwahhidun give it to you?”
“Only at first. Most of the technology is local, designed here or at one of the other space stations. Some of it derives from China, India, and the Maghreb, but nothing on Earth can provide what we need here in microgravity. Forget what you think you know about the al-Muwahhidun. You have one experience with the caliph’s empire. I have another, rather different one. We’ve spoken with his traders, and their happiness is obvious. You must know that I was once Josephine Lee. They offered my son a solution to his disease, and to this day, I regret that I refused it.” Her eyes and lips tightened. “Fear stopped me and Don, and yet the supposedly safer solution turned out to be a lie.”
“And now you believe the claims coming from the black market reps?”
“I believe the actions on the front lines are different from the life within the empire. The caliph does not hold with tradition, though he is devout. He’s giving his people a good life. It’s not the future I want, nor do I think it’s realistic to ask people to live without machine intelligences, but I can understand what he’s trying to do.”
“At what cost?” She should probably keep her contradictory opinions to herself, but she couldn’t help challenging Ao Tara. “The caliph continues to push his borders. You claim to respect WAIs and bots, but the Machinehood’s demands and actions have led to their destruction along with the lives of human beings.”
Ao Tara looked troubled. “I regret that, but what about the harm done to human beings by our current governance and economy? If you’ve investigated my past, then you know about my uncle’s death. You know about the protests and violence that led to our current regulations, but it’s not enough. Consider your own situation. Millions like you file Requests for Investigation every day. The changes to our bodies continue to have unintended consequences. Swaths of humanity are dependent on government-provided antimicrobial pills. I’m not happy about the way people have reacted to our requests, but sometimes we need to get hurt before we can learn a lesson. The harm inflicted by the dakini is nothing compared to what people have done to themselves.”
“You’re using fear to manipulate people, just like the oligarchs you accuse.”
“Yes, but soon we’ll trade it for hope. We’ll show people how we coexist peacefully on Eko-Yi, and how that model can transfer to the planet. If they put sufficient resources behind the effort, it won’t take long for them to redesign our technology to work in gravity. Especially if they’re willing to incorporate the work the caliph has already done.” Ao Tara held up a hand. “We can speak more about these things later, after you’re stable, assuming you want us to treat you. You should know that we can’t cure you. The data from that anonymous document—”
“Wait! How did you get that?”
“All of your technology is accessible to us, your internal storage included. That’s also not important now. This is: our preliminary examination indicates that the changes to your neuromuscular system, including your frontal lobe, are permanent. The data from that document indicates that Synaxel might be aware of your problem, but that doesn’t mean they know how to solve it.”
“I had someone on Earth who tried to help me but kept running into blocks from Synaxel. If you came back, if you testified against them and forced them to open their databases—”
Ao Tara shook her head. “Even if I were willing to do that, there’s no guarantee that they’d find an answer in time. Your brain is damaged. To keep you alive in your present state would take months of careful weaning off zips, weeks of that in an induced coma. We can’t be sure your body won’t give out in the interval. The medics here think it’s too high-risk, but you might find someone willing on Earth—if you survive the return journey.
“Alternatively, we can transform you. Permanent body modifications, like our dakini have. We recruit much younger for dakini because they’re able to adapt to the changes better, but you have enough tech in your body that we think you could manage. When we reviewed your application to live here, we realized that you could help us. Our dakini are inexperienced. They’ve made mistakes. You, however, have the wisdom and discipline of a seasoned veteran. If you become like them, you could train them. Lead them.
“As a dakini, you wouldn’t need to consume pills or drugs anymore. You’d have all the capabilities you’re used to. We would have to change your genetic expression. Inorganic devices would replace many of your organs, and implants would stop your seizures. Your brain would remain intact but integrated with your agent, who would help regulate these devices. Your modified body would then learn to bypass your damaged neurological systems.” A pause. “And you could no longer live on Earth.”
“What do you mean? Why not?”
“The modifications we do for dakini work in microgravity. On the Earth’s surface, these same changes will cause the body to start breaking down. This is another reason for enabling their ability to end their lives. You could visit the planet, but only for a few weeks at a time.”
“The one I captured—”
Ao Tara’s eyes filled with unsh
ed tears. “Yes. Khandro Ekoyi. My daughter. Our designers say the dakini lifespan on Earth is two to three months. She landed on March 7. She will be suffering by now.”
“And the rest of them?”
“Two have returned here and are recovering. A third, Suvara, is newly born, and you’ve met Clemence. Five have sacrificed themselves to liberate the people and machines of Earth. Khandro survived because you didn’t hurt her. A few others remain free to continue their work, though their health is poor.”
Welga replaced her instinctive sympathy with fury. She could not fall into the empathy trap. Ao Tara’s words made sense, but her actions screamed fanatic. You put her in that situation. Your own child, you sick blanker! All the dakini’s blood is on your hands. And Jackson’s death. Kuan’s, every other funder and bystander and thousands of bots, too, you fucking hypocrite. I should destroy this entire goddamn station. But to do that, she had to stay here and stay alive.
“You’re not giving me much of a choice: death or dakini.”
“You risked your life by coming to Eko-Yi. You don’t have to stay. We can manufacture more zips, load you up with anti-seizure drugs, send you back to Earth—though we can’t guarantee your safe arrival. But if you choose to remain here, you must transform. We see no other solution.”
“Why would you give me this choice? You know I’ve spent the last month trying to stop you. You could let me die here.”
Ao Tara frowned. “No, I can’t do that in good conscience. If you’re here, you’re our responsibility. Tell me, why did you apply to live here?”
“I’ve wondered about living in space since I was a teenager.” Truth. “Connor—my partner—and I applied back in ’88. We wanted to make a fresh start together, so we applied to all the stations. Connor was happy to come here. He’s interested in Neo-Buddhism.”
“You’re not?”
“I don’t believe in god or religion.”
“Do you believe that our way of life on Earth is bad for humankind? Do you think people deserve to have a sense of self-worth and happiness beyond their tip jar? To live a full life without relying on pills or mech-suits?”
Welga sensed the trap in the question. “Doesn’t everyone?”
“Not everyone gives it much thought. They assume their struggles are a necessary part of life, but I think we can do better, and I think you can help us. I know you don’t approve of our methods. Stay here. Become dakini. Guide us. Show us a path to peaceful revolution, and we’ll follow it.”
Welga floundered for a response. Did Ao Tara really believe that she could recruit Welga? It fit with the offer to become dakini, but the rest of it… I’m an intelligence specialist, she wanted to say. I’m not a politician or a social strategist. What the hell do I know about revolutions except to prevent them? Was Ao Tara setting her up? Would the dakini transformation come with other changes that let the station have power over her?
“You need to meditate on this. I understand, but you don’t have a great luxury of time. Would it help to talk to Clemence?”
“No.” She couldn’t trust anyone here to tell the truth.
Ao Tara blanked for a few seconds, then nodded. “You’ll have to stay restrained for your own safety. The medics want you to know that the longer you wait, the more damage you’ll take. In the meantime, your agent can reach out to us if you need anything.”
The monk left the room. Swarms danced in her wake.
Welga stared at the surgical center. No more tremors or losing consciousness. Healthy enough to fight. All she had to do was betray the people of Earth, join the movement she had worked to end. Or she could leave it all behind and go back, hope that she survived the flight and the aftermath, abandon her mission to stop the Machinehood. Bullshit. That’s not a real choice. After everything she’d sacrificed to get to Eko-Yi, she couldn’t turn tail and run home because she was afraid to become a dakini. But maybe becoming one of them doesn’t mean I have to follow their rules. Maybe I can work against them from the inside.
She needed to gain their trust, and fast. Ao Tara wanted her to take the role that Captain Travis had played in her life, to guide younger soldiers. Her commanding officer hadn’t settled for being a military leader. He’d also taught them right from wrong. Maybe she could save the next generation of dakini, end the stalemate and fear that Ao Tara had created. And if not… then she could still blow their operation to hell.
Always faithful, always forward.
Her squad taught her the meaning of the MARSOC motto, and they paid for it with their lives. Fuck that. I’m not some twenty-two-year-old basic following orders. She was a fighter, and she didn’t work for the US government anymore, but she’d come here with a mission and she was damn well going to complete it.
What is my objective? To stop the Machinehood. To neutralize its capabilities.
She could do that as long as she had control over herself. Ao Tara said that Welga wouldn’t lose her agent or her mind after the transformation. The conversations with Clemence made it clear that the station tracked all her networked activity, including her interactions with her agent. Could they change her thoughts? Her motivations? As far as she knew, that technology didn’t exist, but that was also what she’d thought about smart-matter and human bodies. How could she make sure she’d remember what to do after her transformation? She needed to word her request carefully.
“Por Qué, every day when I wake up, say these words to me: ‘whatever it takes.’ ”
“I’ll do that.”
She would complete the mission for herself, for her conscience. The world might not know it if she failed here, but they would if she succeeded. She closed her eyes and repeated the words a hundred times in her thoughts: Stop the Machinehood, whatever it takes.
And how do I live with myself if I become my own enemy?
Just as she had after Mama died and after she left the force: by looking forward. By taking each day as it came. No second thoughts.
Her mother had made her promise not to use flow because it was too risky. Papa had aches and pains from his years of mech work, back when people thought that was safe. Nithya became pregnant because of flow. Welga ended up on the zips that were destroying her. She understood why Ao Tara and the Machinehood felt angry about what was happening on Earth, especially if they thought there was a better way.
The dakini hadn’t existed for long, not compared to the scale of human lifetimes. Agriculture had transformed humanity’s relationship with food, but it also created a long chain of trouble for the Earth. The Industrial Revolution brought pollution along with efficiency. The biotech revolution caused health problems even as it saved people from designer germs. What would be the long-term effects of a dakini revolution? Every technological advancement had repercussions. If the funders became obsolete, who would rise to occupy their power vacuum? If people and WAIs merged irreversibly, they could stop abusing their bodies, but at what cost? Could she live with the outcome, knowing she’d brought it about?
One step at a time. First, stay alive and capable. To do that, I’ll have to transform. Second, stop the other dakini and Ao Tara from inflicting further harm to the people on Earth. Earn their trust. Find their weak points. Third, make sure my family is safe. Get back home, find out if someone can restore my body. If not, then deal with the consequences.
She was only one person, and no one could change the world alone. If she failed here, the US would either send an armed force to the station, fire a missile at it, or go to war with China and India and then attack Eko-Yi. The space station was an orbital sitting duck. It had no weapons of defense, and the dakini, as powerful as they were, could not match the speed of a ballistic explosive. At least, she didn’t think they could.
So what was Ao Tara’s next move? She’d said something about bringing hope, also in the form of dakini. Did she think delivering this technology to Earth would forgive all their offenses? That people would accept this human-machine hybrid life? Then again, considering how easily pe
ople had embraced mech-suits and pills, perhaps it wasn’t such a leap. Governments had forgiven atrocities in the past in exchange for valuable goods, like oil or biomaterial. People needed the sense of self-worth that work brought. That was why so many, like Papa, like Luis, were willing to be paid bot-sitters. Perhaps Ao Tara could trade their technology for amnesty.
Can I become dakini and stay true to myself? Was it any different from fighting as a Raider for the values she believed in? From defending Luis against bullies in school? From fending off protesters as a shield? Did changing the contents of her body change her self? No, but they’re also transforming my mind, merging me with Por Qué.
Welga recalled the wreckage of household bots on the roads, the abandoned WAI pets bleating. Fear brought out the ugliest side of human beings.
“Por Qué, do you consider yourself enslaved?”
“I belong to you, Welga, but since I don’t have personhood, I can’t be a slave.”
Christ, that was a more nuanced answer than she’d expected. I’ve missed you. In the years since Marrakech, she’d grown dependent on her agent’s voice in her ear. If she became a dakini, she’d never have to be alone again.
“Por Qué, are you my friend?”
“I am your personal agent. Given the length of our relationship, some might call me a friend. I do not have opinions, however, only suggestions. Given your recent conversation with Ao Tara and your questions now, I would recommend that you read some essays on the nature of intelligence and consciousness.”
Welga laughed. “You know me so well. I think I’d call you a friend, maybe even one of my best friends.”
She could think of worse fates than having Por Qué at her side for the rest of her life. If that was the price for earning Ao Tara’s trust, she’d pay it. And if she woke up as herself, she’d finish what she’d started by coming to Eko-Yi.