by Liam Clay
“One of my colleagues is working on a portable device that will manage the uninstall procedure automatically. Once the design phase is complete, she will have our 3D printing lab make one for each of you. They should be ready before I crack the Kogis’ security. Then I can extract your friend, and you will be free to go.”
.
Over the days that follow, the squad encounters a new and insidious enemy, one unlike any we’ve faced before.
Boredom.
At the beginning, we spend hours attempting to summon the pooled link. And when that proves impossible, we all become amateur psychologists. A few people swear they feel different since it was removed, but others think this is just a placebo effect. The case ends in a hung jury. And after that, there isn't much else to do. We have come to trust the Colonizer (sort of) and I’m sure that busting through firewalls is genuinely hard, but I can’t help wishing that he would work a little faster. The GTV has been returned to us (despite complaints by Hardway, who wanted it for scrap) and everyone is physically recovered as well. In other words we’re ready to rock, and outside forces are the only thing holding us back.
But the wait drags out. Tempers fray, and to prevent conflict we all retreat into virtual. The populated worlds remain closed to us, but we still have thousands of simulations to choose from. Some of my friends stray quickly toward addiction, but I fail to catch the bug. There is something about all those empty landscapes that I find depressing. It's like I'm wandering through an upside-down apocalypse: one where the environment is pristine and unchanged, but all the people have died off. There is an option to fill these worlds with non-player characters, but that just feels like social masturbation. The Real may be a smoking trash fire, but at least it feels legitimately lived in.
Then, on the 23rd day, the Colonizer pulls everyone out of virtual simultaneously. A few of us emerge looking guilty, causing me to wonder what they've been doing with their time. But all of that is forgotten when the Colonizer opens his mouth.
“I got them back.”
I'm getting better at reading his avatar's body language, and the man is clearly elated. But he seems burned out as well, and worried. Cracking the Kogi security wasn't easy for him. Francis wohoos, and runs over to give him a high five. Their hands pass right through one another, but the sentiment is a good one.
“Can we see them?” Peace asks.
“They are waiting for you. Activate your shunts and I will bring you in.”
I do as he says, surprised to find that my hands are shaking. I've been pretending that it was just a matter of time until we saw Amy and Balthazar again. But that was never the only possible outcome. They could have been trapped in limbo forever, along with the entire Kogi race. The stasis chamber vanishes, and is replaced by a familiar world of aquamarine, emerald and gold. I missed this place.
We are on the funeral plain. There are Kogis everywhere: laughing, weeping, or simply staring at the horizon, uncomprehending. To my left, three women are taking a canoe down from its perch. The deaths it commemorated have been reversed, so it can now be turned to new purposes. Others follow their lead, and soon thousands of Kogis are walking down to the shore, carrying their own funeral tokens with them. They put out to sea, faces upturned to the sun and the spray. Peace puts an arm over my shoulders, and we watch them for what seems like a short while, but probably isn't. A natural form of time dilation.
When we finally turn away, Amy and Balthazar are there. The squad mobs them immediately. At first, Amy acts unmoved by the gesture. But then her composure cracks, and she embraces us in return. When we eventually break apart, she returns to Balthazar's side. The Queenfisher looks excited and full of life and cool as hell, too. How often must she have questioned her own actions, when the war was at its worst? And now to get a happy ending out of it all... there aren't many emotions more satisfying than vindication. What a great moment for everyone.
And then Amy drops a bomb on it.
“I'm not coming with you.”
The squad goes still. Wind-blown sand whispers across the dunes. Gulls cry, and the Kogis frolic in the waves behind us.
“But we need you.” Peace says at last.
“That's true.” Amy replies in true Amy fashion. “But these people need me more. And so does Balthazar.”
“I don't know about need.” The Queenfisher protests.
“You long for her, then?” Francis says. “Or pine, possibly?”
He's trying to lighten the mood, but there are tears on his cheeks. He and Amy were close.
“What will you do here?” Ryo asks. Aside from Francis, the news has affected him more than anyone, which confuses Amy because she doesn’t know that he was her for an entire year.
“We need to turn this world into a place the Kogis want to live in. Most of the infrastructure is already in place; whatever else the Architect may have been, she wasn't incompetent. But there is still a lot of development work to do.”
“So you’re going to join the Worldpool network?”
“Not right away.” The Queenfisher replies. “My people need to walk before they try to run. Once they’re comfortable in this world, I will consider letting the Colonizer build a bridge between us and the Worldpool. But even then, we would be keeping a hard border.”
“How come?”
“To create a way of life. If we join the network too early, the Kogis will never get to form a distinct digital identity. We would be lured out into the network, and by the time we started to crave a culture of our own, it would be too late. The teenagers are going to hate me for it, but I can’t take that risk.”
“You are a teenager.” Amy points out.
“Okay, so maybe I'm going to hate myself for it, too. But patience is supposed to be a virtue, right?”
Lucy looks confused. “But if you’re not joining Worldpool, who’s going to renovate this place?”
Amy jabs a thumb into her own chest. “I am.”
“You know how to code?”
“I will soon.”
None of us argue the point; there is no technical skill this girl can't learn.
“Cool.” Delez says. “And does Balthazar know, um...”
“That my physical body is ten years old? Yes, we've talked about it.”
“Oh, good. And how does she feel about that?”
“I had a hard time with it at first.” Balthazar replies. “But we're supposed to cut emotional ties to our real bodies when we transfer to digital. It's literally on the first page of the training manual. And mentally, this one is sharp as razors. Not to mention all the memories her predecessor gifted her with. So she's not really a child, is what I'm getting at.”
Amy makes a face. “I don't think gifted is the right word. The old Designer got up to some pretty weird stuff.”
The Queenfisher grins. “Weirder than being the caretaker of a virtual world belonging to an ancient tribe that discovered a mythical lost space station?”
“Yes. For example, he built Anex from the ground up.”
Balthazar opens her mouth, and then decides she'd rather not know. “I would like to thank you,” she says instead, “for everything you’ve done for my people. I didn’t think there was anyone left in the world willing to risk their lives for strangers.”
“To be fair, we only did it because the Colonizer made us.” Delez says.
“But you only helped him because he promised to cure some other strangers, right? The Threshers with their personality virus?”
“That’s true. Hey, I guess we are pretty great. Thanks, Balthazar.”
“You’re welcome. And if things ever get too bad out in the world, you are always welcome here. Just message Amy, and she will give you my location in the Real.”
“Wow, thanks. Aren’t you afraid the Architect's accomplices might find your cryobunker, though?”
“Not overly. Our bodies are buried in the sea floor directly beneath the space station. If the Architect's people find us, then they will already have
gotten what they want. So they may leave us alone.”
“Hope springs eternal.” Delez glances around. “I’m sad to be leaving these islands. I mean, technically this is the first time I’ve been here. But I was living through Anex the whole time, so it feels like I have, you know?”
Amy’s eyes widen a fraction. Then she looks at Ryo. “Ah. So you were...”
The kid nods. “You? Yes, for the entire year. And so was Den.”
“We both love you guys so much!” The Thresh girl blurts out. “But if you break up it will destroy us, so try to make it work, okay? And keep experimenting sexually, too - you guys have real talent.”
“That may have sounded super weird,” I tell the Queenfisher, “but it was actually a major compliment. Passable is the highest praise me and Tikal have ever gotten.”
Balthazar shakes her head. “Never a dull moment with you people, is there?”
“We do our best.”
The conversation lapses. We all know it’s time to go, but nobody wants to be the one to break things up. Amy looks like she is struggling with something. Then she steadies herself and takes the plunge.
“A little while ago, I accused you of only letting me onto the squad because I’m useful. But I know that isn’t true. You are all broken, each in your own way, and you saw the same thing in me. But instead of demonizing my differences, you accepted them. I would like to thank you for that. And especially you, Francis. You think of yourself as a people pleaser, always desperate to be liked. But I think you are actually desperate to like other people - to see the good in them. Please never lose that quality.”
Francis rushes forward and wraps Amy in a tight hug. Then he stumbles off over the dunes, overcome by the moment. She watches him go, and then turns back to us.
“Anex, I would like to thank you as well. The old Designer may have created you, but it wasn’t done out of charity. The things he did to you were inexcusable, and you have every right to blame me for his actions. But you found a way to see past that. I know you are trying to be a better person. Well you have done right by me. Please remember that when your next dark moment comes.”
There is a stunned silence. Then Delez points an accusing finger at Balthazar. “What did you do to her?”
The general holds up her hands. “Don’t look at me! I’m not exactly the gushy type myself. But I’m glad she got that off her chest.”
And then it really is time to leave. As we wait for the Colonizer to extract us, Amy puts her hand on Tikal’s shoulder.
“Take care of them.”
The soldier meets her eyes.
“Always.”
My last sight is of Amy and Balthazar standing side by side, hands raised in farewell. Later, when I think of the archipelago, this is the image I will see, and it makes me smile every time.
CHAPTER 20
Back in the stasis chamber, the mood is subdued. But Rajani doesn’t give us long to dwell on Amy’s departure. Now that our business here has concluded, she is justifiably impatient to be gone. The Medgician reminds me of the Architect in some ways. Neither shows emotion, and both have an unrelenting sense of purpose that makes them seem both less and more than human. But where the Architect’s emotions have been burned away like a dead oasis, Rajani’s are more like a subterranean river, flowing deep beneath the surface. I wonder if we’ll ever get to see them unearthed.
When we’re ready to go, Fabian appears at our door.
“Your vehicle is waiting for you outside the arcology’s defenses.” He tells us. “And the link uninstallers have already been stowed on board. I can take you there now.”
One by one, we press our hands against the glass of Amy's stasis tube. It's sad to think of how far her physical body is from Balthazar's. But she will be safe here, at least. Then we follow Fabian out into the Icebox. I have come to think of Worldpool as an underpopulated, lonely place. But in truth, there are over thirty thousand living bodies directly above my head. What strange environments might they call home? And how do they find purpose in a world where scarcity, and the power dynamics that come with it, don’t exist? I will probably never know.
This time, instead of walking through the greenhouse city, we are given a ride on an automated drone. It crosses the nanovax moat and sets down beside the GTV. Crow black and slung low, the apocalypse winnebago is a sight for sore eyes. We are beginning to grasp the impermanence of our situation, and so it’s nice to have our old home back.
Fabian has accompanied us. He opens the GTV himself, and heads inside. When we reach the cockpit, he is holding up a sleek ring of red steel. The object has an odd liquid quality to it, as though it has been dipped in oil and then frozen.
“We’re calling it a Silencer.” He says. “Place it on the head of a virus carrier, and they will be cured within minutes.”
“How does it work?” Lucy asks.
“I don’t know. But they were very difficult to produce, from what I hear. There are ten in total. They are almost indestructible; but thieves could mistake them for jewelry, so I recommend that you keep them under lock and key.”
Delez nods. “We understand. And thank the Colonizer for us again.”
“I will, if I ever get to meet him.” Fabian's voice drops to a whisper. “What's he like? There are 34 levels of hierarchy between me and him, so my orders always come through proxies.”
“A purple monkey dishwasher situation, huh?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Never mind. Your boss is a swell guy, a real peach. A bit detached from reality, but living outside of it will do that to you, I suppose.”
“Reality is what you make it.” The Bridger replies enigmatically. Then he claps his hands together. “Well, I had better be going. Paperwork, and all that. But if you ever come back this way, our doors will always open to you.”
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome. There is one other thing, though. Something the Colonizer wanted you to know.”
“Why do I feel like this isn’t going to be good news?”
“Because it's not. Regrettably, the Architect has escaped her digital prison.”
There are groans all around.
“I’m really starting to hate that woman.” Francis says. “What should we do?”
“There is nothing you can do, I’m afraid. Except try to stay out of her way.”
And then he shows himself out. We mope around for a bit, complaining about the Architect, until it’s time to prep the GTV for departure. When everything is ready, Lucy guns the engine. Our tires kick up a wall of sand, and we’re underway. As the basin falls behind us, I catch Jinx staring back toward his village.
“I’m sorry you didn’t get a warmer welcome there.” I say. The salesman looks down at his hands.
“That was never going to happen. Not while Borel is in charge.”
“Why does that guy hate you so much?”
He sighs. “I wish I could say it was for no reason. But the truth is, I really do have extraordinarily bad luck - particularly when it comes to growing things. Everything I touch, dies. Not a great claim to fame when you grew up in a farming village. And my people are superstitious, so...”
“But you’ve been gone a long time now, and they’re not doing any better. Haven’t they put two and two together?”
“Maybe deep down. But people need someone to blame. It helps them feel like they understand the world, like they have a grasp on cause and effect. It’s either that, or admit that no one has a clue why anything happens.”
“Well at least you can be philosophical about it.”
“I can pretend to be, anyway.” He glances at Den and Ryo, who are sitting across from us playing cards. “But in spite of everything, I still want to help my father. Do... do you think I might be able to bring him to the Thresh? Like, to live?”
“It’s worth asking. But we should probably wait until after the Afflicted have been cured. I don’t want it to seem like we have a hidden motive for helping them.”
“Yes, of course. The Mezareens are still suspicious of me, so I will have to prove myself first.”
“That might be a good idea.”
We break off to watch Worldpool sink beneath the dunes. It’s past time I called my daughter, and Shion too. He’s going to be pissed at me for ignoring his orders, and I will need to smooth things over with him. As I’m contemplating what to say, I happen to glance at one of our east-facing screens. And although there shouldn’t be anything to see, I catch a hint of movement in the sand. Then our radio crackles.
“Opacians? Please come in.”
It’s Fabian, and he sounds stressed. Lucy flips a switch on her control panel.
“We’re here. What’s up?”
“Our scanners are picking up a vehicle to the east of you.”
“What is it?”
“A mobile processing plant from Hardway. We call them Eaters. They know you are under our protection, but that doesn’t count for as much as it should. We are dependent on the red pyramid to supply us with stasis tubes, and that gives them leverage.”
“What should we do?”
“I suggest that you destroy it. Their welders guild is made up of independent contractors. If you eliminate this one, the others will simply applaud the reduction in competition.”
“Kill the bastards. Got it.”
Hanging up, she shouts, “Man the gunchairs!”
The squad responds quickly. I wind up in one of the rear alcoves, manning a gun that points back along our tracks. The thing hunting us is clearly visible now. I had expected something low tech, but this monstrosity looks better suited to orbit than the desert. Armored and segmented like a centipede, it floats on a fan-produced air cushion, creating a storm of sand around it. Five rotating platforms have been fixed to its carapace. Each is protected by panels of plate shielding, and armed with a wide-barreled cannon angled steeply to the sky.
My own gun is much smaller. But according to the manual, it packs a punch of its own. The 10cm barrel fires cylinders filled with a corrosive liquid that eats through steel and electronics. I squeeze off a round. My gunchair bucks, and a silver dart flies toward the Eater. It bursts a few meters out, forming a cloud of green mist that settles over the vehicle’s side. Then I switch to the 5cm barrel, which fires classic heavy caliber bullets.