Flesh and Alloy: A dystopian novel

by Nathan Lunn

  “That may have worked before we tortured it, but I reckon it’s gonna be pretty pissed off by now. We can’t afford to have it come near us, anyway – it’ll pull us out of stream again,” Kye replied.

  “The lights are detachable. We just clipped them on as an extra, you see? If Julie gives me control of the arms, I can take them off and angle them directly at the Leviathan’s eyes. We’re going to have to start the engines off first though, and let the vehicle drift so the lights aren’t pulled from their course as we leave,” Douglass interjected, unclipping his belt and shakily standing up from his seat. Julie gave a slight nod, and he pulled her hand away from her temple to connect with the console once more. He slowly started the ignition, as the vehicle drifted to aim below the Leviathan. With another tap of his temple, the robot arms raised once more, disconnecting the headlights and leaving them floating in the water. The creature continued to flounder, as the most intense part of the light had now shifted directly to its eyes. Slowly, but surely, the submersible maintained its course downward, everyone holding their breath, with eyes trained on the moving animal above. Once they were out of reach of the lights, they properly ignited the engines, giving it a wide berth in a slow and purposeful arc. Julie took over, right as they passed by the underside of the creature – for nearly a kilometre behind, the occupants of the vehicle could still see the Leviathan, immense in size, squirming in agony and centrestage in the murky water, before the light dimmed and flipped away, presumably pushed by a new school of fish.

  14

  Another 65 kilometres, and they were in view of Fugurah Station. To the WestMeri Government’s credit, externally, it looked exactly as was portrayed on their advertisements. Kye (who had seen numerous variations of these colonies spread across interactive billboards, PubliCars, even available to visit as a world in some of the more ‘agenda-pushing’ PseduoReality shoprooms) recognised it instantly. To his credit, there wasn’t much else around that he would be able to recognise. At this deep and this far into the ocean, the surrounding area had become nearly entirely alien to him. It was parked atop an aquatic clifface – offering those highest in command the best viewing deck to ponder on the wonders of the trench that ended so far below. This also helped with managing the marine traffic. Along with the work of a couple bio-engineered lightposts, the trench served as a no-go zone for the aquatic life nearby – it assisted greatly with any incoming human visitors. Not before some fatal mistakes took place, of course. The entirety of the underwater colonies were built on a shaky foundation of trial and error, multiple decades of increasing work and innovation leading to where Kye was now. Fugurah Station was no different. Douglass was happy to point out all these details as they drew closer to the south-end landing port, chattering away.

  “And you know, technically it should be called Fugurah Station VII. But, of course, they won’t admit that if you visit them and ask. Oh no. Same with those closer to the WestMeri state, they’re all just made by a series of mistakes and accidental discoveries.” Everyone stayed silent, more unused to the view than Douglass was. He continued in spite of this, “Admirable, really. I mean, they had errors upon errors and kept on going. They evolved exactly the same as we did. Just to look slightly different, of course.” He chuckled to himself, before looking across to the others lining the window and spotting their reserved expressions. Finally reading the room, he settled back into his chair, and tapped on his commlink. “I’ll contact our man.” Kye kept staring at the sight in front of him, mind racing for the second time in this short leg of the trip. He was happy and relieved with his survival, and assumed that Douglass was the same, causing his unusual talkative mood – though based on his knowledge of the situation, he was sceptical – it appeared that the Leviathan was a fairly common occurrence on this voyage. He drew his thoughts back to the present, determined to take in each corner of the station as it came into view.

  Perched across the top of the clifface was Fugurah Station. It was a sleek and beautiful piece of aquatic architecture, standing out in a stark comparison to the sandy slopes that ran level for miles in all directions, save for the trench – which spanned so wide, that when the station first came into view, the opposite end was not visible, and it appeared as though Fugurah Station was sat above the end of the world. An upturned metal dish, eight kilometres wide, held the systems necessary to generate the vacuum seal that maintained pressure inside the station. Coloured coral and vines were growing along the grooves and panels of the bowl, wrapping themselves around rivets the size of thumbs. At the edge of the dish, the vacuum seal began – a sphere continuing around the entire colony, translucent and rigid in shape. It looked as though a gigantic bubble had risen halfway out of the earth, before affixing itself to its silver base, and solidifying. Shadows of spires and buildings stowed away behind the diluted material, a shifting barcode of accommodation and leisure centres – an intense brightness came from within, casting psychedelic veins of shadow and light, shifting and rolling as the sand swirled around with the changing currents. At its base, a few landing pads jutted out at each end of the points of the compass – the most commercially used being on the north-end. Once they were close enough, the steady stream of submersible shuttles entering the colony disappeared behind the shadow of the bubble; travelling there through the western route had provided a way to avoid the traffic, and more importantly, a way to enter Fugurah Station securely and privately – they needed to take all the proper precautions to avoid detection. They approached from the South. Douglass sat up in his chair once more, as the vehicle moved; Julie manoeuvred them away from the patches of light until they arrived at the South-end landing pad.

  He spoke. “Okay, we’re good to pass through. Just keep the lights off, and the engine running low.”

  Once more, they fell silent. Kye noticed Julie’s face, a mask of concentration: typically the south-end landing pad was used for automated transport, and the margins for error were incredibly tight. Slotting in behind a modified cargo-holder, they waited in line for the checking agent to call them through. “No talking until we’re through. I’ve got him to patch into my commlink anyway, so he can just wave us past.” As Douglass had said, they stayed silent – watching as the security check (a figure dressed all in black, wearing a pair of scanning goggles) flapped his hand impatiently to move them forward. Julie stopped the engine for a final time, as they washed into the pool for arrivals, a large robotic arm picking them up and placing them on the conveyor belt. After a minute of steady travelling, they were picked up once again and deposited in a numbered bay for parking. They had arrived at Fugurah Station.

  “This place is not what I expected at all. Where the hell is all the shit from the adverts?” Danny pondered aloud as he walked through the endless steel corridors, following the suit of Douglass, Julie, Kye and Eddie in that order. “I mean, this is almost exactly the same layout as my apartment block?” Kye winced as he remembered all too freshly the cold steel walls and irrigation pipes running through the entirety of Danny’s apartment complex, though the details were rather hazy still, as his playback had finally died down.

  Douglass called back, both replying and reprimanding, “It’s not like you’re seeing the side military tourists get to, Danny. This is what the real underwater colonies are like. Dirty, cramped, and secretive.” His voice bounced off the floors, ricocheting down the corridor in front and behind, until it hit the thick double doors that were set deep a few hundred metres ahead into the equally thick steel walls. “That’s our turn off. I shouldn't have to remind you again, but I will do the talking. Okay?” He reached the door, unwilling to wait for an answer, and tapped his temple. Gravely, he turned back and whispered something to the crew that instantly threw them off guard, leaving them no time to prepare. “Don’t stare.”

  With a light swish, the door slid open, and they filed in one after the other. Upon entering, Kye was greeted by their arms dealer. They all immediately understood what he meant. A scrawny man sporting a
brown beard, stippled with slate grey, unkempt and scrawling across his face; a thin mouth fixed into a shrewd and anxious frown, bushy brow pinched over both of his eyes – one forest green, one glassy white; swathes of wrinkles lined his entire head, running from his scalp to his chin, all emanating from a single point – his temple. In the area where his commlink should have been, there was instead a dent, his skin pulled taut over the dip – dark in colouration from the centre, moving out to a translucent and veiny halo dug in around the ridge of his imprint. Kye had found it incredibly hard to avoid staring. The man spoke through his teeth, his words masked in an imperfect Asian accent.

  “I’m Wei. This is Fugurah Station. I provide weaponry.” The crew did not speak as Douglass had told them to, waiting for his input, eyes taking glances towards his temple when they thought he couldn’t see. Douglass watched them watching, noticing Wei begin to grind his jaw. His irritation rose as the silence continued, scratching at the side of his head and only serving to bring everyone’s eyeline back up again, culminating in a raised voice directed at the most recent person whom he caught looking – Eddie.

  “Go on, get it over with!” Wei said gruffly, loud and abrasive. “Ask.”

  Eddie stayed quiet, shocked at hearing his openly unflinching attitude to his condition. Nearly paralytically, he found his voice, “What’s wrong with your head?” The rest groaned – Eddie never really had a way with words, but that was particularly vulgar. Danny shoved him with his elbow, as Wei turned apoplectic.

  “What’s wrong with it?”

  Douglass sighed, expecting Wei to settle into his routine rant. “What’s wrong with it? What is wrong with you! Arrogant, technologically obsessed morons, walking around with their head in the clouds and the cloud in their heads. And you! So sanctimonious!” He moved on from a flinching Eddie, to a prematurely wincing and unprepared Kye. “You propose that my head is wrong?”

  Kye stuttered, trying to edge in a lie masked as his own opinion, “Well, I didn’t actually–”

  “Wells are for when you’re thirsty, son! You thirsty? Can’t even buy a bottle of water without tapping away–” he tapped vigorously at his temple, each hit attempting to drive his point home– “without confining yourself a slave to the machine. But you’re better? ShadowWalker, and you can’t even commit to the craft. I’m real. You get me?” He nodded casually towards Julie, throwing disdain in her direction. “She’s nothing better an’ all. I know your types, the draft dodgers-kind. You know what I reckon your story is? One day you're sitting there, just happy and calm – and you get a notice through your Comms letting you know you'd been selected for Military duty. You ain't seen any action before, not of the regimented and unhinged warfare kind, maybe a relative has, lost them just a little too soon." Julie bristled, and he smiled, knowing he was correct. "At any rate, you don't want to fight. You can't bring yourself to fight. And so you don't – you run away, become Shadow and avoid serving your country. Am I right?” Julie remained quiet, lips tight and beginning to turn white, determined to not give him the satisfaction of admitting he was correct.

  Rant over, he slammed his hand back onto the table, shocking everyone to move behind Douglass. With a reluctant sadness undertoning his blatant anger, he began to explain. “I got thoughts. You got thoughts too, ‘cept you can use yours to control your commlink. I can’t do that kind of thing. My mind’s wired different, I don’t know. Had it since I was a kid, only became more of an issue as time went on – can’t control the commlink with my thoughts. They control me sometimes and I…” he paused, scrambling his mind for the right words, waving his fingers aimlessly. “I had enough.” Suddenly, his anger bubbled to the surface once more, erupting with great force. “Do you know what that’s like? No! You have no idea!” Lowering his tone, he spoke quieter, “You could never know.”

  Nearly casually, as though he was moving on from his issues at this very moment, he threw out his final line, sitting in a chair and waving his hand at the others to take their own. “So, I just cut it out. One snip and it was gone. But the thoughts – they stuck.” With a final tap to his temple, and a shrug, his steam appeared to be running low, so Douglass took the opportunity to move in and provide an overdue diffusal to the bomb that had clearly already detonated.

  “That’s okay, Wei. I know the story, you don’t need to lose your temper. My colleagues were just interested in your condition. That’s understandable, yes?” Wei nodded, that same frown chiselled into his face. Everyone visibly settled. “Now, shall we do business? Skip the usual formalities?”

  Wei nodded again, twisting around and tapping on the physical monitor on his desk; at the same time, slipping a hand to his pocket and pulling out a small and thin portable display. He spoke with his back turned. “This is how I operate now. Through the physical commlink system.” He shrugged. "Meh. It is not so bad. Gives me time away from the machine, you see? I only have to turn and then I am no longer plagued.” He finished his tapping with a resolute ‘clack’ and turned back to the mute crew. “Better. A note to add, it makes it a lot easier to be discreet in my weapons business. I mean, nobody knows where I am at all times. That is a miracle in this troubled age." He shook his head, clearing his own cluttered brain. "Less chatter, less chatter.” Intent on moving onward, he pressed his thumb to a pad on the desk in front of him, and the wall to their left flipped over. The metal clanked, sounding heavy, as the thick panels swung around, displaying the range of high-class weaponry that was on offer. With a gasp, Kye began to look around, himself and the rest of the crew wholly enamoured like a kid in the world's most dangerous sweet shop.

  Right the way from the top to the bottom, carbon fibre shelves poked out of the silver panel, displaying green hardlight holograms of various weapons resting flat on top. Each shelf held an individual firearm – varying in both size and design, and decreasing in their grandeur as you got closer to the bottom of the wall. Even Kye, who was slightly versed in the language of armaments, recognised only a few of the different weapons. Like the others, he moved straight away to inspect, picking the nearest hardlight hologram off the shelf and turning it over in his hands. Douglass watched on from his chair, as Wei explained to him what was on offer.

  “Those at the top are in the range of RP9 missile launchers – mainly used for highly armoured vehicles or building removal; those on the row below are the newest light machine guns, fire up to 670 per minute, holds 33,500 nano-rounds in a single drum; then you have your normal sub-machine guns, pistols and other handheld firearms below that; before you get into the real interesting stuff. That’s all on the fourth and final row.”

  Danny spoke, breaking the vow of silence with confusion seeping into his voice. “What final row? There’s only these three?”

  Douglass shook his head in disapproval, as once more, Wei began to shout, “I was waiting! For dramatic effect! Ever heard of it? God, you criminal type are all the same, so jumped up and impatient like tiny crows begging me for something shiny. There’s your fucking shiny–” he tapped his middle finger onto the pad, and a hidden panel below the first flipped over– “now go enjoy it! Mr Douglass, how can you handle these delinquents?”

  Douglass shook his head, and continued shaking it whilst Danny turned around sheepishly. Dropping his hardlight pistol to the floor, he ran to his new toys. Once the hologram hit the ground, it shattered, dissolving into tiny pieces right before disappearing entirely. Just as soon, it had reformed back on top of the stand – and Danny had moved on to his next weapon. He was holding what looked to Kye as a normal pair of goggles, adorned with various screw bolts along the top, though it was lacking any sort of strap to pull around your head. He held them up to his face, stifling his breath as he looked through them – though only a hardlight hologram, they were clearly fully functional to provide a proper demonstration of their powers.

  “Caw Caw! You like that shiny?” Wei mocked, giggling for a moment then growing serious. “Those are the Amaterasu Goggles. All-seeing eyes �
� not like your basic alterations to commlink packages, they are a physical upgrade which you can attach and remove at will. Pretty good for reconnaissance and any sort of sniper-based positions: their zooming capabilities rival that of a small industrial telescope, and they have night, heat, even radiowave vision functionality. On top of this, their auto-enhance tracking can help you identify and stick with various targets, even using our advanced motion-based AI to predict their movements at choice times, based on a variety of behavioural readings and changes in wind pressure.”

  Danny, a wicked smile creeping across his face, looked to Douglass, seeing his brow crease and then to Wei, who was busy typing on his portable display. He flicked the switch to the left, and activated the radiowave signalling.

  The world around him immediately washed out into monochromatic colour. The blacks and whites of the faces disappeared under the sea of pink-red thin cables crossing over the room, jumping out from each crew member’s temple and flying in numerous different directions: to meet with the others, some slipping down their bodies into their pockets and the devices held in their hands, some fusing with the display in the corner near to Wei and the device in his hand – Wei’s face itself was the only thing he could make out in the cluttered and cramped room space, a dark abyss standing out from the bright lines that swarmed his sight. He saw Wei smile and begin to talk – a floating head in a sea of warping blood vines.

  “Interesting to see, isn’t it? The living anatomy of the commlink? Seeing it twist and move, watching the information passed around? That right there is the digital age – you’re seeing what we all should see at some point in our lives.” Enchanted, Danny could only nod. Slipping the goggles off, he once more carelessly dropped the hardlight hologram to the floor, again shattering and dissolving. He slumped into a spare chair, clearly deep in thought. Intrigued, the others took turns looking through the goggles and slipping them into radiowave view – Wei watched and judged each person’s reaction with interest, properly devoting his whole attention – until Kye finally had his turn. Slipping the goggles on, he pulled his right arm up to flick the switch, and that was when Wei noticed it – the light glinting off his prosthetic, flashing back layers of purple across the room.