Sanctuary

by H C Edwards

  Trey pulled the hammer back on his weapon, training the sight at chest level on the door. His eyes darted to the curtained window, perhaps expecting to see the shadows of guards surrounding the house.

  “Wait,” Quentin said from his seat. “Please don’t shoot.”

  “Why not?” Trey asked.

  As far as he was concerned they were all culpable. It took a majority of votes for the council to pass action on anything, and he doubted Talbot could have pulled off everything that he did without their cooperation. He thought of Charlottesville and the lives lost, the young man whose insides had boiled on that rooftop, and he felt his trigger finger start to squeeze.

  “Stop!” Quentin shouted, jumping up and placing his hand on Trey’s forearm.

  “If they’re here it’s because they know that we know,” Griffin said from behind them, his voice trembling with either adrenaline or dread.

  “No, it’s not them,” Quentin said, stepping in front of Trey’s line of sight and turning towards the door. “Sia couldn’t make her out at first.”

  Trey lowered his pistol slowly.

  “Who are you talking about?”

  But Quentin didn’t answer them. Instead, he walked to the door and turned the knob, pulling it open and stepping partly to the side.

  Despite the evening light the robes of a councilman were easily identifiable, but the figure that stood before them was hooded, features hidden in shadow.

  “Councilwoman Hideshi,” Quentin addressed her.

  She raised her head, though only her jawline was visible.

  “How did you know?” her voice floated to them softly.

  “Sia,” Griffin said, rising to his feet, the look on his face one of disgruntlement.

  Quentin nodded, wondering why Sia hadn’t alerted his father at the same time she did him.

  “Are you alone?” Trey demanded, gun lowered but still ready.

  “I am,” she said, taking the cue to step into the house.

  Quentin shut the door immediately, even as Trey went to the windows and peeked from the corner of the curtains out into the street. After a few seconds he returned, satisfied that she was telling the truth.

  “Why are you here?” he demanded.

  The councilwoman reached up and pulled the hood back, eyeing the three men in front of her with wariness.

  “I think it best if you answer his question,” Griffin prompted.

  She turned her gaze away from the two men and focused on Quentin, looking him up and down for a couple of seconds.

  “I think a friend of yours wanted me to come here, or at least she gave me your name and told me where to find you.”

  Quentin’s mouth suddenly went dry.

  “A friend?” he was able to whisper past the lump in his throat.

  She nodded.

  “Claire Talbot. I believe you know her?”

  Misao sipped the watercress tea, relishing the heat that it sent throughout her body. They sat gathered around the kitchen table, a somber lot, not that she blamed them.

  She eyed the Major, a stoic man she had met on many occasions, though all of those had been in passing. She thought of the last time she had seen him, leaving the council chambers after his audience with Talbot. Now she knew the course of that meeting, and in the telling of her own story, they had all put the pieces together.

  And what a puzzle it was.

  The doctor she had spotted here and there infrequently, but he was more of a mystery than the Major. As for the boy, it was her first time setting eyes on him. He was nothing but a name that Claire had hurriedly whispered in her ear before she was taken away by the guards, but she had mentioned her ‘friend’ from the Outer Zone more than once. Whoever Quentin was, he was important to Claire, important enough to be the last bit of information she parted.

  Had she been aware that his father was the head of the QUBIT program? Misao thought that Claire must have known.

  None of this seemed like coincidence. If she were of a faith, like the majority of non-revivals, she might have seen this meeting as providence, but there had never been religion in her household. Her family had been pragmatists, and never bothered to find the connections others sought between the world and its happenings. And yet here she was, a piece of a puzzle that fit into the bigger picture, a cog in the machinations of the council, except she was now on the other side of things.

  They had listened to her story with silence, and when she came to the end, it was Griffin who had first spoke, delving into a story that would have seemed wild imagination had she heard it just the previous day. It didn’t take long before Trey related his version of events, and by the end as she sat sipping her tea, Misao knew that what they had uncovered might be the end of their world as they knew it.

  There was culpability on her part, and along with that culpability there was guilt. It was her silence that allowed the conspiracy to continue, her attention to Talbot’s ‘greater good’ that kept her from speaking out when she knew it was the right thing to do. Had she done so in the beginning and alerted the citizens to what happened in Charlottesville, perhaps the path of this day would never have begun.

  But then it was also her guilt that made her hunt down the woman Mia, driving her away from the helplessness she had felt to the one course of action she could pursue to an end. Had she not done that, she’d be elsewhere instead of in this kitchen, ignorantly plodding on, secure in the knowledge that her world was safe.

  Misao couldn’t decide which she would have preferred, but it was redundant now. There was no other path but the one she was on, and from what she had learned on this day, there was no going back.

  The young man, Quentin, had been silent throughout all the conversing, sitting still in his chair, brows constricted and face grim. It occurred to Misao that perhaps ‘friend’ had been a loose term that Claire had used.

  “Quentin?”

  Saying his name felt odd coming out of her mouth. He was a complete stranger to her, and yet she already felt the bond that all conspirators must feel.

  When he looked up at her she understood the expression he exhibited was troubled and agitated.

  “Claire will be fine.”

  The words sounded hollow even as they came out of her mouth. The truth was she wasn’t certain of that at all, and from everything that Talbot and the council had already done, she doubted that even the daughter of the senior councilman was completely safe.

  “Where would they take her?” Quentin asked.

  It was obvious, but the words needed to be said nonetheless.

  “The Pantheon,” Misao replied. “They were going to take her to Talbot.”

  Quentin made fists out of his hands, and for a moment she thought he would slam them down on the tabletop in frustration. Instead, he closed his eyes and breathed heavily, placing his hands in his lap.

  “Those people in The Mountain,” he said. “The ones from Charlottesville. What will happen to them?”

  Misao shook her head.

  “I don’t know. I don’t even know why they are there.”

  Griffin was rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

  “I might,” the doctor replied.

  They all looked to him, but when he spoke he addressed his son.

  “The ship they’re building. Councilwoman Egbert said that part of the plan was evacuation. That could only mean they plan on going offworld.”

  “That’s impossible,” Trey interrupted.

  “It isn’t…not in the least. She said they had to make sacrifices to save the species. The ship, this ark that Claire mentioned…it has to be for colonization. That’s the reason why the council took out Charlottesville. They needed the resources to build their ship, big enough to house the thousands it would take to start over again.”

  “And the survivors from Charlottesville?” Misao asked.

  “From what Claire described to you,” Griffin said somberly. “It sounds like they’re test subjects for prolonged cryo-suspension.”
/>   This time it was Quentin who turned sharply to his father and replied.

  “What?”

  “Yes…it’s my program.”

  When he was met with questioning stares from Trey and Misao alike, he lowered his gaze to the table and continued in a heavy voice.

  “The cryo-program is one of many I’ve developed over the years, but this one was specifically requested.”

  “By whom?” Trey asked.

  “Who else?” Griffin replied. “The council…I was asked to develop a long-term cryo-stasis as a precautionary measure, as a last resort in case something happened to the sanctuary or we had a failure in the field, a catastrophe to be short. The cryo-stasis would preserve the citizens indefinitely, or at least until we could wake to a world with less radiation. One of the main components was the Cloud. Degradation would be kept to a minimum if the subjects were in the Cloud, in their memories. It’s the only way to preserve brain function for any extended period of time in stasis. If they really plan on colonizing, the trip could take several lifetimes.”

  Quentin spoke what was on all their minds.

  “What will they do to those people when they’re done with their tests?”

  The silence he was met with was all the answer that was required. Misao knew that those survivors technically didn’t exist, and she knew how good the council was at keeping things quiet.

  “There’s nothing we can do for them…not now,” Trey finally said.

  When Quentin spoke again, his voice was hollow and drained.

  “That means they can’t let Claire talk to anyone about it.”

  “Talbot would never kill his only living daughter,” Misao said, and she believed that was true despite everything.

  Trey looked solemnly at her.

  “Maybe…I wouldn’t bet her life on it.”

  Quentin stood up from his chair so forcefully that he startled Misao.

  “We need to stop all this,” he said.

  “Son,” Griffin said, reaching over to grasp his son’s arm.

  “We do what we said we were going to do,” Quentin replied evenly. “And then we find Claire.”

  Misao glanced from the young man to the other two men, confused and caught off guard.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “Do what exactly?”

  Griffin looked over at the Major, who nodded his compliance. The doctor began to speak, explaining about the program, Sia, and her ulterior purpose, the idea to shut down the quantum computer, which would ultimately cause the disruption of the field. As he talked, Misao finally understood that this gathering was not just a few concerned citizens piecing together the truth of a massive conspiracy, but people with the intent and means to do something about it.

  “Wait,” she interrupted Griffin. “You want to shut down the quantum computer – the Cloud – everything?”

  She was more than disturbed. What they were planning was terrifying.

  “You can’t do that. This whole city runs on that machine,” she said heatedly. “Every vital system we have is integrated with that computer. Without it this sanctuary would fall.”

  The doctor held up placating hands.

  “We have backup systems for everything, even a power grid. This city wasn’t built on the predication that the quantum computer would never fail. We would have some power, enough to get by until we figured something else out, and the dome would be preserved. That’s all that really matters.”

  “And everything else?” Misao asked in alarm.

  Griffin stared hard at her.

  “Nothing can last forever…not even a utopia. If we don’t do something soon, how long do you think Akropolis will last? Every day that electromagnetic field stays up the genetic code is unraveling, and the process is speeding up. Right now it’s the reproductive genes but in another twenty or thirty years it’ll be the pattern genes that regulate and build organs. When that happens, no fetus will develop to birth and the human species will be extinct just like that. We’ll be a city of synthetics…and what would be the point after that?”

  Misao felt the breath wheeze out of her lungs. Twenty or thirty years? Could it be? Is that why the council was so desperate to complete The Plan?

  “It’s true,” Griffin said gently, looking around at the stunned faces surrounding him. “The model proves as much…if you know what to look for. I can’t explain the sudden acceleration but it’s happening nonetheless. Maybe if there was more time...”

  He trailed off.

  Quentin sat back down, but he no longer looked distressed, only determined.

  “Then we don’t have a choice. We need to get that virus uploaded and destroy the computer.”

  “And how exactly would we do that?” Griffin replied exasperated.

  “We blow it up,” Trey said, cutting into the conversation.

  “What?” Misao asked, not sure if she had heard the Major correctly.

  Trey turned to the doctor.

  “You upload the virus, drop the field, and I’ll blow the damn thing up with explosive charges. I can get them from the ASF armory. Hell, I’m about the only one who can.”

  Griffin was shaking his head.

  “That would be pointless,” he returned. “Neither of us has the clearance to get to those lower levels, and we certainly wouldn’t get it from the council now. You can’t just walk into the quantum computer chamber.”

  Trey looked to Misao, who squirmed inwardly under his intense gaze.

  “You can if you’re on the council,” the Major replied.

  Quentin watched as the Major and Misao took the transport that had been parked in front of the house, his father crossing the street and heading to the nearest charging station.

  The light was starting to fade. In a little while it would be what passed for night in Akropolis. The next few hours would see their world changed forever. That is, if they succeeded. In retrospect, if they failed the same outcome would apply.

  The consequences were uncertain should they be apprehended. There had not been a crime of this magnitude in the history of their civilization. A wipe hardly seemed appropriate. It was safe to assume that consignment to the Ether could be the penultimate response, death to warrant the permanency they would condemn upon the rest of the city.

  The real question that preyed on his mind, however, was whether it would save them in the long run. Could the genetic mutation be reversed as his father surmised? Would the next generation be born without the unraveled strands of DNA coding, or might the four of them be the harbingers of their own demise as a species?

  It was overwhelming to consider these questions. The doubt he felt was not for the lack of proof, but for the unknown their situation presented. He knew this was the only option available to them, but their course of action felt like the last desperate attempt of revolutionaries against an oppressive regime, and from all the history books he’d poured over in his time, their fate looked bleak indeed.

  “Sia,” Quentin addressed the program as he closed the porch door, his father’s figure now nothing more than a shadow in the distance.

  “Yes, Quentin,” she replied softly.

  Was it just him or did she sound solemn?

  “What do you think our chances are?” he asked.

  “I would prefer not to calculate such chances,” Sia returned.

  He was surprised. She had sometimes refused a request due to a previous command from his father, but she had never optioned not to respond. He wondered, and not for the first time, how real she had become as a consciousness. How often had he taken that voice for granted, preferring to think of it as an automated system that was programmed for thousands of situations. What if she had been intuitive all this time?

  “Why not, Sia?”

  There was no response for a moment.

  “Sia?”

  “I am processing my reply.”

  Again, he was taken aback. Sia was capable of quantum computing, calculating thousands of equations in the space of a split second. H
er ‘reply’ should have been ready the moment the question was presented.

  “Sia,” Quentin said. “Why does calculating our chances make you hesitate?”

  “Because…”

  A pause.

  “Because,” she repeated, also another first. “There is a preferential course to pursue other than computations.”

  Quentin hesitated before replying.

  “What course it that, Sia?”

  “Hope.”

  He didn’t know how to respond. There had always been moments where he thought her programming was more sentient than either his father or he could account for, but this progression was something he had never believed possible. On top of all that had happened recently, to brush it off seemed not only irresponsible but almost…cruel.

  Everything around him seemed to be changing so fast, or perhaps he was just seeing it all differently.

  “Thank you, Sia,” Quentin said, feeling the artificial tears well up in his eyes.

  “What is it that you are thanking me, Quentin?” came her reply.

  “For being you.”

  She didn’t speak for the longest time, and just when he thought she wouldn’t, Sia’s urgent voice resounded in his ears.

  “There is something of importance I must tell you. My program has just decoded a signal that was being broadcast from our position,” and if he didn’t know any better he would have sworn her tone portended doom.

  Quentin listened with growing horror, and when she was finished speaking, he immediately tried to call his father through his forearm computer, only to find that the network wasn’t working.

  Survivors

  The lowest level of The Mountain housed the machines that ran the sanctuary. Much like Akropolis and the other sanctuaries, it subsisted on renewable energy sources discovered long ago that helped the cities become self-sustained.

  When the lift reached the bottom and Chase opened the gate, there was not a single soul in sight, which was more than a little odd. They stepped out into a large cavern that had tunnels branching from left to right and one in front of them. These tunnels, Mia recalled, took workers to the main sections of the maintenance facilities. The quantum computer mainframe and cooling rooms were off to the left, which required several checkpoints and access codes that were given to only a handful. Any maintenance workers would get ‘passes’ or temporary codes that had a timestamp on them, meaning they’d last for only the estimated time it would take to complete a job. Mia had never been allowed to tag along with her father on one of those trips for obvious reasons.