by H C Edwards
In retrospect, as the guards marched him to the lift and began their descent, he was astonished that he hadn’t been killed outright. Of course, someone might have seen that, and then there was the mess to clean up. He was well known here, and to some degree, liked. Tongues would wag, fomenting fear and rumor, which could turn into questions that would be uncomfortable to answer. Whatever end Talbot had in mind, it would be quick and quiet, and with as few witnesses as possible.
Griffin was surprised when the lift stopped at the main lobby. He had expected to be taken to the lower levels. They were less populated and more discreet, but when the doors opened and they began to walk through the main thoroughfare he realized that something had changed.
It was almost shift change, and yet the lobby was deserted. There was no coming and going of techs, lab assistants, or guards. Not even the secretaries, of which there were more than he could count, were seen rushing to and fro, walking in their hurried and clipped steps that meant whatever they were attending to was too important to stroll.
He had never heard his own footsteps echoing in the hall. The only people in the entire expanse were a female and male guard at their station by the east entrance. They looked up at him and his accompaniment of guards and looked back down again, as if they didn’t want their gazes to stray too long.
There was no help there, nor did he expect any. He didn’t recognize their faces, much like the guards that were marching him along. He knew all by name that worked the entrances, if not most of the guards in the upper levels, and he figured that Talbot had replaced them all just recently.
Griffin was given a shove when he started to stray. He course corrected, following the guard in front as he was lead across the lobby and towards the council chambers. The massive door loomed in front as they approached.
He’d been here more times than he could count, but not in years. His projects were classified and discreet, which meant whenever he needed to talk to a council member, he usually did so in the privacy of his labs or through his viewscreen in his office. The last time he had visited the chambers had been to produce the findings of the successful stabilization of Quentin’s matrix. That had been a joyous, if not mournful, celebration, knowing that his son’s salvation had come at the cost of Rachel’s life.
The council, Talbot included, were near stunned with his success, having believed that such a thing was never possible to begin with. After all, he had spent the better part of three lifetimes working on the answer, and when he finally presented the solution, they were very interested in his findings, so much so that they approved of a joint project that would investigate the possibilities of artificial memories to stabilize partially degraded profiles from the Cloud, so that others like Quentin might someday rejoin their society.
Now, Griffin couldn’t help but wonder if there had been something more sinister at work that day, if his advancements had paved the way for a new type of control. Having delved into the Major’s matrix just recently, he noticed some anomalies in the prefrontal cortex, as if there had been tampering. He didn’t have the time to delve deep, but Trey’s neural degeneration wasn’t just a product of the blocks or the downloaded memories from Charlottesville. In fact, if he had to guess, there were also other memory implants in the Major’s head, and in conjunction with all the other crap that had been done to him, the neural network just couldn’t take it anymore.
It begged the question…how many more people out there had memory implants?
They came to a stop in front of the council chambers doors. The two guards posted on either side, unfamiliar faces again, glanced at him but didn’t question the escort, the lead guard of their group waving at the sensor to open the doors.
The council chambers were empty. He had expected some sort of closed hearing, or sentencing rather, but instead he was led to one of the side doors.
This was new territory for Griffin. He had never been into the private areas beyond the council chambers, where accommodations were kept for all members, as well as temporary ones for visiting governors or others of importance, whose business could not be concluded in a single day.
The hallway he found himself in curved past several doors while also ascending multiple floors. At certain points there were alcoves with plush sofas and chairs so that one could look out through the dome. There was even a lavish waiting room, decorated with pieces of art that mirrored the architecture of the city and a fountain that was in the shape of the Pantheon, the water shooting from the top of the antenna to cascade down the domed sides. If this had been a social visit, he would have been pleased to sit for a spell and admire it.
After the waiting room was his true destination, a pristine office with glass walls that looked out into the Gardens, the palladium glass of the dome preventing anyone from seeing in. It was decorated with a simple rectangular table that looked like oak, five chairs on one elongated side and six on the other, with one chair at the head.
There sat all eleven council members in their robes, Talbot by the windows staring out into the grounds. It was fitting, Griffin thought. Here was the king lording over his vassals, and like the king he stood apart from them.
It had been awhile since Griffin had seen some of those faces. A couple of them he had grown friendly with, enough to pass a lunch in the Gardens with, conversing about this and that, but there were no friendly faces looking at him now. There was only the grim condemnation of his masters, ready to pass judgment and seal his fate.
The guards brought Griffin through the glass door and stopped him near the head of the table. He was acutely aware of how he must appear to them, shackled and bedraggled, fitting the look of the criminal they all thought him to be.
He prayed that Janet had been quick enough, because he knew his time here was short.
Talbot turned away from the windows and walked a few steps towards Griffin, his cane thumping on the hard floor like the gavel strike at sentencing. One side of his face was rigid, but despite this, there was a fire in his eyes that defied death. He seemed thoughtful and disappointed, but not angry.
“Hello, Griffin,” he said.
“Fuck you.”
He had never used the slang diatribe before, but no situation ever warranted it more.
The other half of Talbot’s face tightened for a moment, the wrinkles of his ancient visage fighting against the emotion that wanted to break free, but then he sighed heavily and shook his head.
“I expected more from you,” the councilman chided.
“What? An apology?” Griffin nearly spat, not even attempting to hide his disgust.
“An explanation at least,” Talbot replied.
“You already know why I’m here.”
“You mean why you’re all here,” he corrected, wagging a finger at him.
Talbot nodded to the guards. They left the room and took a post outside of the glass doors. He then walked towards the table, gesturing to Councilman Yander, a squat and portly man, who tapped on the viewscreen in front of him. In the middle of the table an image projected up for all to see. Griffin couldn’t help but stare at it, some small bit of wonder intruding on his anger.
“Did you know,” Talbot orated. “That this city was never originally intended as permanent?”
Griffin didn’t answer, unsure of where this was going.
“About three hundred and sixty years ago, scientists discovered this moon,” he gestured towards the spherical object floating in the middle of the table. “This moon, the actual name of which is too difficult for me to recall at the moment, has been affectionately dubbed ‘Eden’. It orbits an exoplanet called Proxima Centauri B in the Alpha Centauri system, so close to the planet that it was at first overlooked.”
Griffin couldn’t help himself. He stepped closer to the image, his eyes widening.
“Our government at the time was toying with some interesting technology and were able to send off what they called the ‘StarChip’, a micro-ship if you will, that traveled at nearly twent
y percent the speed of light. Its purpose was to take images of the moon and gauge the chemical composition of the atmosphere, if any, then make the journey back and relay the information, a forty year round trip.”
“But our resources were becoming extremely limited, and the damage done to the planet was past reversible. Our government, as well as a few others, decided to build our sanctuaries to test the viability of self-sustaining ecosystems.”
“Except,” and here Talbot held up a finger. “These sanctuaries, once successful, would be disassembled as much as possible, and sent into orbit, where they would be prepared for the journey.”
“The journey?” Griffin asked through numb lips.
His anger was gone now, replaced by the mind-boggling prospect.
“To our new home,” Talbot stated, again gesturing to the projection of the moon.
“This was always the plan. Our governments knew we could not sustain our species on Earth. We were past the point of no return. But before they could confirm the hopes of the scientists, the War began, and I don’t have to tell you how that ended.”
Talbot gazed at the moon, his eyes almost glassy, voice dropping to a near whisper.
“They were right in the end…the scientists. Eden not only contains the elements of life, but a breathable atmosphere.”
“H-how?” Griffin stuttered, gulped, and spoke again. “How do you know?”
Talbot turned to him, his face almost lighting up with a fervent fever.
“Because I found it, the StarChip.”
He swept a hand upwards.
“After the War, the council had enough on its plate without having to look up, but once I was appointed and read the old records, I knew we had to find it, and it was here all along, in orbit above us, relaying the same messages for over a hundred years. We just had stopped listening for it.”
“Think of it,” Talbot spoke excitedly, the most animated Griffin had ever seen him. “A new world, a fresh start, and with the ion propulsion systems we’ve developed and the new cryo-stasis technology that you have spearheaded, we are finally able to take to the stars. The dome tech will protect us from radiation and deflect any objects we might come in contact with. The time has finally come for us to take the next step.”
Griffin shook his head, the information almost too much for him at the moment.
“The ship,” he mumbled. “In The Mountain.”
Talbot nodded, settling back into himself, his age unable to sustain the fever for long.
“So you know what we have built,” he said thoughtfully. “I guessed as much. But you didn’t figure it out on your own, did you?”
Griffin clenched his eyes shut, blotting out the tide of wonder and awe that wanted to overflow now that he knew the theory had been correct.
A destination changed everything. The ship didn’t seem like such a fantastical idea anymore. In fact, it seemed necessary, especially in consideration of the genome defect. And yet, it had come at such a price, far too large a price that he could never condone it.
When he opened his eyes, he felt tired. It wasn’t just the weariness of the years behind him, but the knowledge that all he had accomplished, the tech he had invented, the strides and breakthroughs, all of it had contributed to the deaths of thousands of innocent people. In a sense, he had been an unwitting accomplice to the greatest mass murder in their planet’s history. It didn’t matter that he had been ignorant of the plan. The blood was on his hands as well, and the stain could never be erased.
“You murdered all those people,” he whispered. “For what? Parts to build your ship?”
Talbot sneered at him.
“To build our salvation!” he shouted, or as much as he could shout, the vehemence coming out like a strangled snarl. “We made a deal years ago, and when it came time for their part, Charlottesville decided it was a fairytale, a pipedream! Even after I told them how little time we had left, they still refused to hold up their end!”
The councilman ended his rant in a coughing fit that seemed to pull itself from his very depths. He struggled to maintain control, but the display of emotion sapped most of his strength. His cane was supporting the majority of his weight, and Griffin flirted with the brief idea of attacking the man.
Councilman Yander, who like the others, had been silent the whole time, stood up and addressed Griffin.
“Charlottesville had agreed to hand over one of their quantum processors,” he said, sounding very much like a man on the defensive. “Without it to power the Cloud systems for the ship, there would be no point in sending anyone up.”
There it was, another piece falling into place.
“You need a workforce to man the ship while the crew is in stasis,” Griffin grunted. “That’s why you destroyed them? Because they said no?”
Talbot found his breath again, and some measure of strength. He sent a glaring look at Concilman Yander, freezing the man in place.
“That is enough out of your mouth,” he growled at him. “No one asked you to speak.”
Yander, looking slightly wounded but more embarrassed than anything, sat back down in his seat. It was obvious that the council members were there as a show of unity, but there was no question as to who was in charge. Griffin wondered how long they had been under his thumb, or were they just scared and desperate? It didn’t matter. They were as culpable as their king, co-conspirators to mass genocide. He marveled at their ability to be so aloof at this moment. Had they accepted these atrocities and moved on, or were they already dead inside?
Talbot’s scowl faded as he turned back to Griffin.
“The ship is almost done. We have everything we need now.”
“Then why am I still alive?” Griffin asked.
“You don’t understand, do you?” Talbot said, shaking his head. “We are doing this to ensure the continuation of our species. You know what little time we have left. I know you do. This journey, this voyage, is our only chance at survival, and we will give it every chance it needs.”
“You need me,” Griffin said, realization sinking in.
Talbot shrugged.
“A thousand different things could go wrong. We need the best and the brightest on those ships.”
Griffin shook his head.
“I won’t help you, not like this.”
Talbot frowned.
“Think of the others. We know your plan. We heard it all. It was smart, I have to admit, developing Sia for such a contingency, but that’s all over now. The Major is being detained at the ASF headquarters as we speak and Councilwoman Hideshi is on the run. She won’t be harmed,” Talbot said, sending a quick glance to Councilwoman Egbert who stiffened in her seat at the mention of her daughter’s name. “But I can’t say the same for the Major…or for your son.”
Griffin jerked at the mention of Quentin. He was thinking of Janet and what he asked her to do. It was a desperate move born of desperation, and now he regretted it. With Trey captured and Misao in the wind, his brief rebound of a plan only spelled certain doom, for their little group and for his son.
“Quentin has nothing to do with this.”
“I think you and I both know that is a lie,” Talbot said.
The councilman stepped to the table and pressed a comms button.
“Get in here,” he said.
At once, the guards posted by the door to the office room entered, surrounding Griffin.
“You have a little time to consider your predicament, long enough for my guards to pick up your son and bring him back here. By then I hope you have made the right decision.”
Talbot walked to Griffin then, close and closer until he was standing right in front of him, only a foot away. He leaned in, dropping his voice to a whisper so that only the two of them was privy to his words.
“You could save his life,” he said breathlessly. “The both of you on your way to a new world. Be smart, because I promise you the alternative will not be pleasant.”
Talbot stepped back then, his e
xpression almost pained, as if he found the threat to be distasteful.
“But then, you wouldn’t remember it for long.”
Griffin felt his body grow cold, knowing full well what the councilman meant.
Uprising
It was difficult not to look around in awe, mouth agape as the eyes drew in as much as it could before the sensory overload caused one to avert the gaze.
Everywhere she looked there were workers busy as ants, assembling, welding, connecting nodes and testing circuit boards, installing tubes and seats, bolting down tables and chairs.
She had never seen such coordinated construction before. It was how she imagined the assembly of the sanctuaries must have looked over three hundred years ago.
Rumbling above the construction of the object was the constant drone of voices, sending instructions and directions, voicing opinions or debating about protocol, and above it all the shouts of the foremen, who were readily recognizable as humans. The rest, she was shocked to notice, were all synthetics. Not just dozens but hundreds, maybe even a thousand, a workforce comprised solely of QUBITS.
They were easily identifiable by the smooth movements of their bodies, the somewhat blank expressions on their faces, the subtle and quiet gestures and nods to their brethren as they followed the instructions without complaint.
It was eerie in a sense, as if they were drones at the behest of the queen. Mia had never had this thought before, but then she had never seen synthetics in such banal circumstances before.
A few of them caught her eye, and though their glances invoked curiosity, she did her best to ignore them. They recognized her, or at least they recognized what she was, and their lingering gazes seemed to suggest that her guard’s uniform was a flimsy disguise.
As Mia’s group made their way along the wall of the tunnel, she realized rather quickly that they stood out, an odd bunch of mismatched jumpsuits unnecessarily escorted by a trio of guards. It worked in the reservoir because entrance into the maintenance tunnel required a guard’s security clearance, but here in the Red Zone, they looked conspicuous, not that there was anything they could do about it now.