by Peter Smith
The ride back to the RU was uneventful. The glass of the newly created towers reflected sunlight down on her and caused her to heat up even more. As the ATV rolled up the ramp into the RU, a priority message appeared in her virtual vision.
She opened it and read a brief security report from her AI assistant, noting that it had detected a network intrusion at the New York Spire. It didn’t appear that any vital servers or data had been compromised. The infiltration route had already been remedied. The AI was already trying to ascertain who had compromised their security. She knew it would only be a matter of time before it was successful.
She left the task of hunting the perpetrator down to the AI. Once it had the information, she’d send Toby to explain her dissatisfaction with the violation of her privacy. The list of Spire families with the technical ability and expertise to pull off such an action was slim.
The lowest level of the RU was still a cacophony of noise and sights. The disassembly of a nation never stopped and this entire facility would have no down time so long as it sustained no damage. It would continue rolling across this freeway, centimeter by centimeter, until eventually it and its cousins had completed the project of recycling the unused remains of the old world. It would take another decade or so, but they were making regular progress.
She stepped through a group of labor drones and onto the lift to take her up to the command-and-control deck. The only place within the entire facility that was designed with humans as the primary focus. People could safely transit every part of the Reclamation Unit but the architecture of the rolling factory was built around the efficient completion of its task, the command deck was the only place people could be comfortable.
The lift stopped, and the wall dropped away to expose her to an empty hallway. The sounds of the work vanished but its presence was still there, it was the vibrations through the floors and walls that gave away the work below. If not for those she could pretend that she was inside any of her military facilities.
She walked toward the small suite that was located on this level. With every single room she entered, the lights sprang to life; the halls creating a tunnel of illumination for her to walk through. Normally the electronics in these rooms would be dormant. Now they responded effortlessly to her presence.
While in the guest suite she showered, changed and got a quick bite to eat. The labs and advanced manufacturing equipment in this section of the RU could produce nearly anything she could have possibly needed to meet her needs. The clothes and food were both produced down the hall from where she sat, reviewing reports from across the globe that had accrued during her time in the entertainment complex.
Tobor still hadn’t checked in from the expedition to the equatorial launch facility. She knew there was no reason to worry, if anything was nearly indestructible it was Toby, but she couldn’t help her imagination from running wild. She had lost him once and every possibility, no matter how small, that she might yet again ate at her. She stood up; she had spent enough time here, neglected world politics for too long.
She’d head back to the Spire now and if she hadn’t heard from her friend by then, she’d drop into its video feed and check in directly. She knew it was foolish to wait to do just that, Toby was a machine and wouldn’t mind the violation of privacy. It was important to her she only do so when necessary. If she became too comfortable inserting herself into each situation, she’d be walking down the same path of her father.
She walked out of the room and into the hallway. As she stepped into it a notification appeared in her virtual vision, this one high enough priority that it would not wait for her to access it.
Another network breach. One in a day was indicative of a probing action. The other Spire families occasionally tested her digital defenses whenever they thought they had finally upped their digital game enough and were willing to test it out. They usually learned the error of this thought process after she traced the infiltration back to its source, seized control of the systems that launched it and erased them.
Two within a few hours of one another could be a signal of an impending attack. The lighting in the hallway failed to properly activate as she entered it. Instead of being uniformly illuminated, the passageway only activated lighting elements sporadically, as if the Reclamation Unit’s CPU was fighting against an attempt to seize control. The hair on her arms rose and she could feel the back of her neck tightening. Her network connection suddenly ceased.
“Well, crap” she muttered. Cut off from her vast military and fully aware from the last time something like this had happened that nothing good could be coming. She ran through all the possibilities that were about to occur. The least likely was that the network intrusions and losing connection were a coincidence. The most plausible explanation was that someone wanted to isolate her from the empire and had severed her connection to it. Which could mean that her home and family might be under attack. That one bothered her but wasn’t the most likely, attacking the New York Spire was the surest way to commit suicide short of straddling a nuke between your legs and riding it down to its target, Slim Picken’s style.
She closed her eyes and let out a sigh, silently cursing David Williams for her ability to make that reference. No, most likely one of the other Spire’s had figured out that she left the New York Spire at nearly the same time every day and used that pattern to track her movements. While there were many that would love to see her captured or dead, there was only one that could use that intelligence, Trotsky. She had to assume that a Russian Spire special operations unit was here and likely assaulting the RU. If she was wrong, then all she risked losing was some respect for her own abilities of deduction.
If they were smart, and they likely were, they would have hit the unit from above and below. That would mean that the launch pads above and the ground access beneath her were probably in enemy hands. Their main goal after that would be to search for her deck by deck and take control of the vital systems. That would mean they’d head to the command deck. She looked down the hall toward that space. If she could get there before them, she could seal it off with manual control and get a message out to the Spire, or at the very least wait for Toby to realize that her connection had been severed.
“Maria” A voice whispered behind her.
She spun, looking down the hall for the source of the voice. Her fists tightened into balls and she could feel her back and abdominals tensing, The lights continued to flicker as she looked toward the advanced manufacturing and laboratory wing of this level. Nothing appeared to explain the voice she had heard. A moment of fear gripped at her. Could who ever was doing this have accessed her contacts? If so, they could manipulate whatever she saw and by extension heard. The devices floating against her corneas also acted as transmitters for the small implants against her auditory nerve. If someone had taken control of them, things could get terrible for her very fast.
A knocking sound reverberated down the hallway which was alternating between well lit and pitch black as the lights flickered on and off, “Maria…” The voice said, desperately.
She pulled the small lens case from her pocket, tilted her head back and expertly plucked the devices that enabled her virtual vision and network access from her eyes. Until she was certain they were secure from enemy infiltration, she’d have to use physical terminals. She stared in the direction from where the voice had come from; it was a dark abyss. The exact opposite direction was the command deck. Who ever was trying to freak her out might just be trying to get her to avoid that section of the level and encourage her to head to command and control. If that was the case then there was likely a trap for her there. The labs would be a natural place for her to get to then, there were also primary data lines in there she could tap to take control of the RU.
“Toward the creepy disembodied voice I go, what could go wrong?” She muttered to herself, striding through the now alien and hostile hallway.
The staccato sound of gunfire above confirmed her earlier sus
picion that whoever was here was taking control of the flight deck. The drones and defensive systems up there would operate, even without connection to the greater family network. Though if it was a Spire family commando team, the odds of the labor and security units here being able to stop them were slim. Regardless, she was having her suspicion confirmed.
She was nearly to the main entrance of the advanced manufacturing wing when she made out the sounds of the robotic assembly arms within. Either they were malfunctioning or someone had hijacked their operating systems and was building something.
She waiting for the door to part for her, when it didn’t she frowned and tapped the small black square on the side of the doorway. It opened, and she stepped forward, stopping suddenly as it slid partially open. She reached out and tapped the button again, this time it slide closed. She closed her eyes for a moment and took a calming breath. Whoever was behind this was working on her last nerve. She pressed the button and this time the door slid open, not completely, but enough for her to slip through.
The lights in the laboratory were mostly off. Some panels along the walls emitted light from their jumbled displays, creating an eerie back lit scene as robotic arms danced in the corner, dangling from their assemblies anchored to the ceiling. Work benches and robotic arms blocked her view of what they were working on. Through the darkness she could just make out what appeared to be a human head and shoulders rising from behind the mass of obstructions.
“Nope” Was all that she said as she turned and stepped back toward the door. Her feet slowed, and her head dropped. Curiosity was nibbling at her. She had never seen anything like this before. She knew that it was insane to delay. She should run from the room, screaming like a teen in a 90s horror classic. But she just couldn’t bring herself to take the last few steps to exit the lab.
“Time to find out how cats die,” She muttered and spun.
The body was now fully erect, standing still. An inky black shadow prevented her from seeing any detail, but she could tell that it was just slightly taller than her. The arms pulled away, leaving a clear line of sight between here and whatever it was. She stepped toward the wall, moving so that there were no longer any items between her and it.
It stood within a ring within the floor. Something dripped from its fingertips, which were pointed directly down as they were nearly flush to its thighs.
She grabbed an electron microscope from the counter nearest to her. She might have been adventurous and brave, but she wasn’t an idiot. She smirked at the thought as she slowly advanced on the unknown creation that was standing meters from where she was now. She was more than adequately prepared to handle Mr. Black; she thought to herself darkly. As she inched forward, she comforted herself in the idea that there were far more direct ways to kill her than crafting some type of humanoid whatever. If this was meant to harm her, it was likely an unnecessary and difficult way to attempt it, given that a bullet to the temple would be far more effective and easily achieved. So yeah, logic said she was completely safe. Her hand tightened on the microscope and she hefted it up higher, ready to swing it down.
“Hello” She stated, keeping the nerves from her voice but only just so.
Its head snapped up, and she nearly jumped out of her clothes. Her hand wrapped around the main body of the microscope so intensely that she wouldn’t have been surprised if she left indentations in its housing. It wasn’t looking at her, instead staring away from her.
Its head slowly panned toward her and the voice from before returned, but its mouth didn’t open, “Maria…” It said, pain audible.
“What are you?” She asked.
It’s right foot left the ring, hesitantly placing weight on the limb. It nearly collapsed, as it did it appeared as if the form lost cohesiveness for a moment. Its entire body drooped and then snapped into place as if someone had suddenly removed the bottom on a pail full of water but then defied gravity and pull the fluid back into the container halfway through its fall.
In that second she had her answer. Nanofluid, similar to that which her father had used to create the fountain at the ground floor entrance to the New York Spire and the necklace she had worn the evening she had been the Trojan horse to eliminate the Chen dynasty. It continued to step toward her, each separate movement resulting in a similar instability. It didn’t appear to control its cohesiveness, likely a byproduct of a fast production run.
“What do you want?” She asked.
It stopped moving toward her, instead this time extending its arm in her direction. The panel along the wall next to it activated for a moment, bathing the charcoal black fluid in light. Its surface writhed as if held together by billions of little bugs, which she supposed it was. The hand opened, as droplets fell to the floor, splashing against the metal deck material and then beginning the slow process of sliding toward the form’s stationary feet.
“Help” It started and then its head snapped quickly to the side, its ‘face’ looking over her shoulder. She turned, her brain processing that the form was dissolving in her peripheral vision when she completed her half circle and was now staring back toward the door. Only instead of seeing the exit from this laboratory, she was face to face with the visor of a member of Trotsky’s commando force.
Instinct brought the microscope in an arc toward the side of their helmeted head, but the blunt object would never find its mark. With speed beyond that of a mere human, the power armored soldier smacked her hand away. Pain flowed from her fingers when they were smashed between the delicate electronic device and the armored fist of her attacker. It did so at such a rate that it reached her brain and engulfed her in pain just before the attacker’s other gauntleted hand snapped out and wrapped itself around her throat.
She stared at her own reflection, held within the visor of her attacker. Words trying to pass through her lips.
“Toby” Was all that she managed just before the darkness consumed her.
Tobor
Atlantic Ocean / Equatorial Region
The smell of churning salt water was in its memory. It could recall the sensation generated by the free salt molecules floating in the air and stimulating olfactory sensory neurons. Tobor had sensors that could detect the variety of particulates in the air, separating them out and determining what the local atmosphere comprised. But this was not the same as smelling something.
A little girl laughed. The smell of the salt water from the ocean. Beach sand giving way beneath its weight. The sound of the waves lapping against the shore and the little girl’s blond hair catching the light as she crashed through the water.
Tobor’s head jerked to the side. Another memory from Miller. They were becoming more frequent, those fragments of experiences. They weren’t a distraction; they had never impeded its ability to operate. But they created chaos in that for a machine, an artificial intelligence system, control was a constant and these flashes were beyond its ability to regulate. They appeared to be stimulated by whatever experiences Toby was engaged in and they did so at their choosing.
Still though, as unnerving as it was to be out of control on this topic, Tobor found itself wanting to experience them. For one, the prospect of being able to smell was intriguing. A sub processor was assigned to the task of devising a method to allow for that. With enough time and processing power, it was more than possible. Though there was a greater desire that it was experiencing.
To hear the little girl’s laugh again. Toby stared ahead. She was likely dead, a victim of its former master. A sensation that Toby couldn’t describe occupied its processing power. The light reflecting off of the hair, the sound of the laughter.
The transport banked tightly over the churning Atlantic waves as they pounded into the pylons that kept the equatorial launch facility from falling into the ocean abyss. The waves undulated out the lowered cargo ramp and frothed as it ran underneath the facility. A powerful storm was blowing in, forcing the waves to nearly the top edge of the dozens of launch and reception platforms.
>
Jacob Patterson had been brilliant. The placement of this facility was no accident. Tobor’s creator had placed it exactly upon the equator, where the Earth’s own rotational energy would be best utilized to fling rockets and their payloads into space.
Spacefaring nations throughout history had placed their launch complexes as far south as their territorial borders or military might allowed for them to do so. For the Russians it had been located nearly as far south as their empire extended. The Chinese placed their launch complex on the island of Hainan, their southernmost island. For the Americans it had been the state of Florida. In each case, the goal had been to get as close to the equator as possible to decrease the amount of fuel consumed during launch.
Kennedy Space Center was now where the reconstituted elements of free humanity were conducting their own limited space launches. Exclusively for the purpose of re-establishing their surveillance and communications networks coopted by Jacob Patterson after ‘The Fall’.
Recently though, it had become the reception point for the Martian delegation’s landing vessel. Soon that craft would speed back into space, carrying the delegates from the former colony to their mother ship. Tobor suspected it wouldn’t be too much longer until the site ended up hosting many more manned landings and launches. Humans had the tendency to never be satisfied with what they had, curiosity and a desire for more propelling them into the beyond.
The craft banked again. Sharp enough this time that had the transport had any humans on board, they likely would have blacked out. Tobor stared ahead at the fifteen combat drones, sitting patiently along the wall. None of them moved, not one spoke. They were all run by restricted AI programs, unable to be self aware but capable of advanced problem solving. This meant that while they could reason their way through a situation with limited information, they could never create or do anything that wasn’t related to that topic. None of them would ever hold a conversation, create a piece of art or desire to learn more about a concept. They couldn’t, their programing forced them to focus only on what they had been created to do.