Causality (Quantum Gate Book 5)

by Eric Warren

  “Do you think she couldn’t handle herself over there?” Frees asked, walking past Arista as bits of glass crunched under his feet.

  “Six million machines bent on killing humans and it’s just you two to watch her back? I don’t think so.” He took a seat in one of the old chairs strewn around the garage.

  Frees turned back to Arista. “She did handle herself pretty well in Echo’s tower. And in the mag-lev plant.”

  Arista screwed up her face. He was right; she was capable. But would she be able to navigate their world? And it meant another human mouth they had to feed; though if they came back through the colony they could gather supplies before making their way toward Trymian. Assuming there was a colony left to return to and it wasn’t overrun by machines.

  “I don’t think this is about her capability.” She turned to David. “Is it?”

  He shook his head. “I know she could handle herself here, but over there…it’s just so dangerous. From what you’ve told me they can detect humans easily, except for you.”

  Except now Arista’s Device had been damaged it meant the dampener no longer worked. She’d be visible to every machine over there as soon as they crossed over; a detail she’d hadn’t overlooked. All it did was add another level of difficulty in accomplishing their goals, something Arista didn’t look forward to. But she didn’t need to say anything about that right now. David might insist she not go as well and though she didn’t have to listen to him, she was more afraid he might not insist after all. That would hurt more than she was willing to admit to herself.

  “I think she can handle it,” Frees said, looking down the hallway toward her door.

  Arista took the nearest seat beside David. “Are you nuts? We need to travel light, we need—”

  “We need as much help as we can get. We’d never have gotten inside either the mag-lev plant or Echo’s tower without her help. She might be able to give us a hand.”

  Arista gestured with her hand. “And she could just as equally not be able to interpret any of our world’s equipment. It all runs on a different system. She’d have to learn it all over again.”

  “You don’t think she could do it,” Frees said.

  “No, it’s not that. I’m sure she could, given time. But we don’t have any. We’ll have to hit the ground running as soon as we get there. We won’t have time to dawdle.” Arista sighed. “I should go talk to her. Maybe I can get her to come around.” She stood again, pushing up on her legs and following Blu’s path down the adjacent hall to her room. When she reached Blu’s closed door, she put her ear up against it to hear…anything.

  The room beyond was silent.

  Arista raised her knuckles and rapped twice. “Blu?”

  She didn’t respond but the lock on the door clicked. Arista grabbed the handle and turned it, allowing light to filter in on the dark room.

  Blu lay on her bed with her eyes glued to the ceiling and her hands behind her head. Inside her ears were two small devices that blinked on and off. Blu pulled them out and set them on the table beside her.

  “How did you hear me with those things in?” Arista asked.

  “Easy.” Blu pulled up the image of her door on a personal hand-held device.

  “Ah,” Arista replied, searching for the right words to say.

  “I hope you’re not here to tell me again that I can’t go,” Blu said.

  “I’m not here to tell you anything. I just want to listen.” Arista took a seat on the edge of the bed, her artificial arm draped over her leg.

  “Apparently there’s nothing else to say. My decision has been made for me.”

  “I just don’t understand,” Arista said. “Why would you want to leave your dad? Why would you want to leave your life here?”

  Blu sat up on her elbows and stared at her. “I never said I wanted to leave Dad. This isn’t about him. You know how sometimes you have those opportunities in life you don’t take and you end up regretting it forever? This is one of those times. If I don’t go with you, I will never stop thinking about it. I will agonize over it every day for the rest of my life.”

  “That can’t be the only reason,” Arista said, her thoughts doing somersaults trying to figure out what was really going on here. “Regret is a powerful thing, but it fades after time.”

  Blu’s face twisted into abject pity. “You know you’re only like six years older than me, right? I wouldn’t go around spouting wise adages if I were you.”

  Arista cracked a smile. “All I’m saying is it will get easier. Over time. Wouldn’t you regret leaving your family more?”

  “I wouldn’t be leaving my family,” Blu said. “I’d be staying with them. So no, I wouldn’t.”

  Arista furrowed her brow. “What are you—oh,” she said, the pieces finally clicking into place. She should have seen this coming.

  “Tell me you’re not upset about leaving me behind,” Blu said, her eyes pleading.

  “I’m not happy about it. But up until right now I had just assumed it was a given. I hadn’t allowed myself to think about it because I knew it was going to be hard. I figured once I was over there and it was done with, I’d face it then, after there was nothing else I could do about it.” Arista scooted closer to the edge of the bed, overcome with emotion.

  “And now?”

  She took a breath. “Now I don’t know. You’re the only sister I’ve ever had, even though we’re not related by blood. It’s kind of strange we found each other.” Arista actually considered the possibility. What would it look like, Blu coming with them? They’d have an easier time getting to Trymian, especially if they had to get through some high security areas. If they’d had someone like her in Japan things might not have gotten so messy. But even though she was fierce, she wasn’t a fighter. Not like Arista had become.

  “I don’t think you just ignore something like that,” Blu said. “And I don’t think I’m just supposed to let you go back. Not without help.”

  Arista raised her eyebrow. “You mean this is some kind of divine intervention?”

  Blu smirked. “Maybe just the multiverse coming into alignment. I don’t care what Dad says, I’m going back with you. And I dare you to try and stop me.”

  Arista stared at the floor for a long while. “I won’t try to stop you. You deserve to determine your own fate.” She glanced up. “But believe me when I tell you it is nothing like here. Things are hard over there.”

  “What?” Blu said, raising her hands. “And they’ve been a cakewalk over here? I’m not afraid of things getting tough. I care about losing people I’ve become close to. Because for me, it doesn’t happen very often.”

  “I just want to make sure you know what you’re getting yourself into,” Arista said.

  “Trust me,” Blu said, hopping off the bed. “I definitely do.”

  SEVEN

  “Some days I don’t know what I’m going to do with that girl,” David said, returning to his desk. It was overflowing with all sorts of components, reminding Frees of his old apartment where he’d built three different versions of an early-warning-device in the event a human crossed into its range. Which, of course, Arista had. It was hard to believe it had only been a few months since they’d first met. It felt like a lifetime ago.

  “She’s so headstrong. I wish I could say it’s genetic, but that’s not the case,” David continued. He seemed to be talking more to himself than anyone else. He opened one of the lower drawers, pulling out some kind of small housing that looked like it could hold a small item or projectile. But Frees wasn’t thinking about David’s project. He was too focused on his own problems.

  When they first realized they would be stuck here, he had been convinced it wouldn’t take him very long to finally admit his feelings for Arista, thereby moving the process along as naturally as he dared. But here he was, six weeks later and virtually zero progress had been made, despite all the constant needling from Blu. She’d apparently decided to become his personal therapist and had been adv
ising him on how he could start the inevitable conversation with Arista. Unfortunately, it seemed Blu was about as clueless in the realm of personal relationships as he was. The past few years living as a hermit with little or no contact with anyone other than Jill had really stunted his ability to relate to people. And so far, he’d managed to get by on pure adrenaline. They’d had to deal with so much so quickly he’d barely had time to tell her to dodge bullets much less start a long and complicated discussion about his feelings. And wasn’t this what he had rallied against in the first place? Complex relationships in high-stress situations? Hadn’t that been Arista’s entire problem with that other guy? Maybe if it had become clear the gate wasn’t going to work he could have found the courage and the time to sit her down and talk to her. But things had begun moving rapidly again and any further attempts would be nothing less than futile. He wasn’t going to bombard her with something else to worry about. Not until Charlie was finished and they’d figured out just how to navigate their own world again. It wasn’t like he’d had a lot of relationship practice anyway. The deepest relationships he’d had over the course of his life had been shams.

  “It’s hard when your children are ready to grow up and leave,” Frees said.

  David glanced over his shoulder so one of his eyes met Frees’. “Have personal experience with something like this?”

  Frees approached him. “I had a son once. He was stuck in a continuous loop, forced to relive each year as if it were his last year in high school. He had ‘dreams’ and ‘aspirations’,” Frees said, using his fingers to make the quotations. “And then every year he’d reset back to the previous one and we’d start the whole song and dance all over again. He was going to play college football. Or at least that’s what his programming told him he was going to do. And while I was still a husk, I experienced longing, loss, and apprehension about him leaving. Maybe it isn’t the typical human experience. But it’s something.”

  “Where is your son now?” David asked.

  Frees’ lip curled. “He’s not my real son. And she wasn’t my real wife. They were just programmed for those roles. After I awoke, I left. I have no idea what happened to them. More than likely they’re still out on that farm, performing the same roles with a replacement Mortimer for the father. That is if their spans haven’t run their course.”

  “Does that bother you?” David asked.

  “No. Nothing was ever real with them. It isn’t as if I have any loyalty to them. I care about them as much as any of the rest of my people. If we succeed and manage to grant freedom to my people, I may check on them. Make sure they become full individuals.”

  “So you do care,” David said, working on the device he’d pulled from the drawer. “You’ve led a very interesting, if short, life.”

  “Interesting for you perhaps.” Frees glanced down the hall. “What are you going to do if she insists on going?”

  David sighed, laying the device he was working on back on the workspace. “I don’t know. I just want what’s best for her. It’s all I’ve ever wanted. I never expected to be presented with this kind of problem. I always figured if she wanted to go off on her own, I’d still be in her life in some way. But this…even if she manages to survive in your world it will be like she’s dead over here. I’ll never see her again.” He examined the small device. “Do you have Arista’s arm schematics on you by any chance?”

  Frees frowned. “No. Why?”

  “Could you get them for me? I’m building something for her. A going-away present. I thought I’d have more time to finish it but it seems our time is almost up.”

  “Seems that way,” Frees said, still staring down the corridor.

  ***

  Arista pulled out the holo tablet holding all the information about the philanthropic organizations she’d been meeting with. Jennings stood before her, still in his police uniform.

  “You sure you can handle all this?” she asked. “I can’t ask David and Blu to expose themselves anymore. After we’re gone, I don’t want there to be any backlash.”

  Jennings shook his head, smirking. “I think I can handle it. We’ll make sure the money gets to the right people and for the right causes. But I was over on Manhattan this morning and people are pissed.”

  Arista smiled. Good. Not only had Jennings been instrumental in her first meeting with David, he’d helped keep Arista out of jail after Echo’s declaration. Because Echo owned a large portion of the police department he argued it didn’t make much sense to arrest Arista as that ownership now transferred to her. But the bourgeois establishment hadn’t been too happy about Arista giving away large swaths of Echo’s fortune. Even though it had only been a few short weeks, there had already been some changes. With their most basic needs met people were beginning to fight back against a system that had kept them oppressed for so long. Not with weapons, but with words. If nothing else, she’d at least been useful in that manner. But she didn’t want all her hard work to fall to the wayside once they left.

  “I’ll have to admit,” Jennings said. “I’m surprised you were willing to put your face out there as much as you did. Taking on such a public battle.”

  “I thought I was going to be here a lot longer than this,” she admitted. She’d thought the chances of returning home were less than zero. But life was surprising sometimes; Blu was right about that much. “At least you won’t have to keep the criminals off me anymore.” She smiled.

  “It was no big deal. For as much money as you possess you received relatively few threats. I think people see you more as a Robin Hood type figure than anything else. They love you here.”

  Arista turned away from him. That was more than she deserved but she wasn’t about to get into it. Not with Jennings. “So, you’ll take care of everything, yes?”

  “Safeguard it with my life. Trust me, your legacy will live on long after you’re gone.”

  “Don’t make it my legacy,” she said. “Just make sure the people get what they need. And don’t let those Manhattan idiots get to you.”

  Jennings took the tablet from her, depositing it in his pocket. “Best of luck. I can’t imagine what you’re headed into.” He tipped the brim of his hat to her and turned, leaving through the office door back onto the assembly floor. He nodded to David as they passed each other.

  David headed toward her. “All taken care of?” he asked, sticking his head in the door.

  She sighed, watching Jennings walk away. “I hope so.”

  “Good. I think we’re almost ready. But first…” He made his way into the office, leaving the door open behind him. “Can I see your arm for a moment?”

  Arista furrowed her brow but held her artificial one out to him, rolling up the sleeve of her jacket. He pulled a small cage-looking device out of his pocket. “Got a surprise for you,” he said. Her eyes widened and she backed away. “It’s nothing harmful. It’s for the key.”

  “The key?” she asked. Ever since Frees had returned it to her after the subway incident she hadn’t let it out of her sight, despite David’s insistence on scanning it a few times to understand better how it worked.

  “This is an auto-activator for the key itself, so you don’t have to worry about accidentally turning it on and off and killing Frees,” he said with a sardonic smile. “May I see the key as well?”

  She hesitated a moment, but reached into her pocket and retrieved the small six-sided device. They’d determined it required a specific series of actions to activate but it could be turned on and off at will. Arista could only take Echo’s word that touching a machine with the key would destabilize and eliminate their consciousness. It wasn’t as if she was going to test it on the only sentient machine around.

  David took the key and inserted it into the small cage, the sides of it locking down. “Now. Your arm should have a small port on the inside, large enough for an expansion pack.”

  Arista rotated the inside of her arm and sure enough, right below the elbow was the faint outline of a rec
tangular port. “How do I…?” as soon as she thought about it, the tiny door jumped open, as if on a spring. She pulled the door back, revealing a cavity inside.

  “Here you go,” David said, handing her the key inside the cage. “Just make this side is facing the front.”

  “What will this do?” she asked.

  “It will give you innate control over the key,” David said. “Just like you can control the extensions on your fingers, this will allow you to activate and de-activate the key at will, allowing its energy to be transferred through your hand. All you’ll need to do is activate it and touch Charlie and the key will do the rest.”

  Her eyes grew even wider. “Really?” She placed the small cage inside the port, pushing it down until there was an audible click. She closed the port door and pulled her sleeve back down.

  “This way you won’t have to worry about losing it, or you can turn it on when you’re in a pinch.”

  “Wow,” Arista said, staring at her arm as if she could still see the key. “Thank you. How do I…?”

  “Just touch your thumb and pinky fingers together. I tried to make it as simple as possible.”

  She stared at him with her mouth agape. Had he done that on purpose? How could he have known?

  “What?” he asked, concern etched across his face. “What’s wrong?”

  Arista shook her head. No, it was just coincidence. There was no way this David could have known about the hand Sy had installed on her. “Nothing. Thank you.” Creepy similarities aside, she was grateful. She’d never received a present like this before, especially not from the only father figure she had left. She couldn’t help but feel regret at leaving him, knowing she’d be returning to a world in which he was dead and her machine father was long offline.

  As if he could read her thoughts, he spoke again. “Has Blu spoken to you about…?” Arista nodded. “She’s going anyway, isn’t she?”

  “I think you’d have to strap her to a bed and lock her in a room to stop her,” she said, her eyes on the floor.