by Liam Clay
“Ship Ho!” Balthazar calls out from across the room.
I look to the window. And there, the morning sun glinting off its silvered sides, is the spacecraft.
“Well I’ll be a monkey’s uncle.” I say. And then, “You’re right - it is crazy that humans can make things like this.”
The ship is a kilometer tall cylinder of reflective steel. It looks less like a spacecraft than an alien monument - similar to the Timestone outside Medival. The figurehead I saw in the factory crater has been fixed to the cylinder’s peak, like a sight on the barrel of a gun. I wonder who the man was, and what he did to merit such an honor. The ship sits vertically atop a floating platform that has been tied to the Stormline's terminus tower. Ninetown sprawls behind it, melted sides looking crude and ugly by comparison.
Further east, I can see a barge pushing through the swell. It is being pulled along the Stormline, and should be arriving within an hour or so. It will not be the first. Or the hundredth, even. Nem was successful in conquering the Outpost. And the albino is still there, overseeing what has become the largest mass migration in history. Well over a million people have answered the call, drawn in by my warning or by others who have heard it.
I would like to take full credit for this, but the black hole itself is the true hero. It consumes a quarter of the sky now. Nobody could look at it and still scoff at the idea of apocalypse. And so they have come in their multitudes, desperate to flee the planet before the end. Ninetown is already full to bursting, and feeding everyone has become a challenge even with the stores the Hive has been sending.
Our airship sheds altitude, dropping down toward the spacecraft. Its curved flank is soon all that we can see. Calendo is awestruck, and she is not alone in that sentiment. To date, my thoughts have mostly been focused on the prospect of losing my body. But now, for the first time, I am able to seriously consider the prospect of traveling between worlds. And of one day, finding a new one to call home.
We drop down the spacecraft's side, closing in on the platform upon which it rests. In any other company, this platform would be the most impressive feat of engineering I’ve ever seen. At over five hundred meters to a side, it is so massive that the waves have no effect on it. A labyrinth of tech is spread across its breadth. As we float in toward a landing pad, I get a good look at the setup. Multi-colored cables snake in and around a host of heavy metal chairs. Electrode headnets hang from their backrests, supported by segmented wires. The scale of the installation is mind-boggling... there must be 25,000 chairs down there. And at the center of it all sits the Mindrack. Like a winter moon, it casts its sickly light over the surrounding steel, creating strange refractions that confuse my retcom's imaging software.
This, taken as a whole, is the transfer zone. It is a place that once seen, cannot easily be forgotten. But the most striking aspect of its design are the trapdoors positioned in front of each chair. They conceal cremation chambers, for bodies that no longer house working minds. And while I’m sure the system is efficient, it is also a nightmare made real. Any engineer with a scrap of emotion to their name would have hidden the zone behind closed doors. But the Null don't go in for that sort of thing.
We land smoothly on the deck. Null workers tie the airship down with ropes. Then they attach a wheeled gangway to its exterior. Hive airmen open the door, and the passengers start to file out onto the platform. Sophie takes my hand with one of hers, and Kalana’s with the other. Tikal stays close as well. And together, we walk out into the sun.
CHAPTER 36
A delegation has gathered to greet us. It is led by Peppin, Belinda and Bruin. The deputy mayors look exhausted, which I take as a good sign. It would be far more concerning if they looked well rested. Sea birds wheel above us, and tiny crabs scuttle across the deck. Nobody seems quite sure how to proceed. Then Bruin kicks things off with an uncomfortable bang.
“Who's this?” He says, pointing to the Architect. “Nem's long lost cousin?”
Someone laughs nervously. Thankfully, Kalana is used to dealing with these types of situations.
“Deputies, I would like to introduce you to the leader of the Null, and our newest ally.”
“What's her name?” Bruin asks curiously.
“She doesn't have one, as far as I am aware.”
The Architect clears her throat. “I did have a name once, actually. And if it helps you work with me, feel free to use it.”
Realizing that my mouth is hanging open, I return it to a more appropriate position.
“Now this I gotta hear.” Calendo exclaims. “What was it?”
The Architect turns toward her.
“For the first half of my life, I was called Josephine.”
“Josephine.” The mercenary repeats, as though she's never heard the name before. “For real? That's your actual, honest to god name?”
“Yes. Were you expecting something different?”
“Absolutely. I thought you'd be called something like Azriela or Vortrix. Or anything with a Q in it.”
“I would say that I'm sorry to disappoint, but of course that is not the case.”
“Well met, Josephine.” Belinda cuts in. “We have prepped the transfer zone as per your people's instructions. Would you like to do the honors?”
The Architect (we only have a few days left on earth - not nearly enough time for me to get used to Josephine) nods and moves toward the Mindrack. She is joined by Amy (who, know that I think about it, suits her name almost as poorly). Together, they approach a stand-up control panel that has been erected beside the white sphere. Their fingers start to fly over the screens. And now, the transfer zone comes alive.
First, the Mindrack turns a soft pink color. Then lights flash to life on the chairs, and a wave of static electricity washes over me. Amy and the Architect check each other's work, and then my friend nods.
“It's ready. So, who wants to go first?”
The Architect raises her hand. “I would like to nominate Anex. If it wasn't for him, none of this would have been possible.”
Dozens of faces turn my way, and I can feel myself panicking. I hadn’t expected to be called upon so soon.
“Um... this is going to sound ridiculous after all the effort we’ve gone to, but I’m not super keen on the whole digitization thing. And I was thinking it might be fun to crew a spaceship. I know I'd be pretty useless at first, but I'm a fast learner.” I turn to Sophie. “What do you say? Want to become an astronaut?”
Her face lights up, but the Architect is quick to dash our dreams.
“I'm afraid that won't be possible. This ship will take just over a thousand years to reach its destination. And for all but the last few days of that time, there will be no one onboard at all. I have trained a crew who will be deployed into vat-grown bodies shortly before arrival. Their job is to land the ship, and to make it ready for habitation. The colonists will be deployed only after the ship has been made ready.” She pauses to draw breath. “But when you do receive your new bodies, they will imitate your current ones exactly.”
At these last words, some of the tension drains out of the crowd. I am less attached to my body than most, but I can feel the relief as well. And yet still, I hesitate.
“This could just be me trying to delay the inevitable, but somehow it doesn't seem right for me to go first. I just convinced millions of people to abandon this planet. So in a weird way, I feel like their captain now. And the captain is always last off a sinking ship, right? So I’d like to wait until the end, if it's all the same to you.”
The Architect shrugs. “Aside from the crew, each batch of colonists will be selected for deployment randomly. So it doesn't matter which order you are uploaded in.”
This throws me. “You mean once we arrive, people will still have to wait for their new bodies?”
“Of course. There are only so many gestation vats onboard, and we will be sending far more minds than expected.”
“Right. I guess that makes sense. Anyway, I would d
efinitely like to go last please.”
“Me too!” Sophie shouts, startling a seagull from its perch atop a nearby transfer chair.
“And me.” Tikal says.
Peace adds her voice a moment later, and Amy hers. In the end, all of my friends decide to stay back with me. And so instead of leaving our bodies, we turn to face the bridge that connects Ninetown to the Stormline tower. A few minutes later, the first volunteers emerge. They come in their thousands, bringing a restless energy with them.
Reaching the tower, they descend the steps to its base level. From there, a pontoon walkway brings them across to the transfer zone. When the volunteers see me, they stop to stare. Then a few of them start to cheer. The sound catches fire, and now the entire crowd is going off. There are wails of anguish woven through the moment - of that there can be no doubt. But somehow, it all sounds like the same emotion being expressed. Something far too layered to describe in words. What had begun as an homage to me quickly becomes an ode to their own lives, and the world they are leaving behind.
The first volunteers reach the transfer zone. Some balk at the sight of it. But then they look skyward, and the black hole spurs them on. In a surprisingly short time, all of the chairs have been filled. Kalana leads Sophie back to the airship at this point. Tikal watches them go.
“Do you think we should leave too?” She asks me softly. “In a few minutes those trapdoors are going to open, and all of these people are going to be incinerated. If your followers in Ninetown see that, they might change their minds.”
“These people aren't being incinerated, Tikal. Only their bodies are. And... I think I need to watch. My followers deserve to know what they're walking into. Maybe it will help them to prepare.”
And so I stay where I am. It has long been my habit to describe what I'm seeing and feeling to you, my viewers. This narrative is meant to act as a supplement to the senses, emotions and surface thoughts you already have access to. It adds a personal layer to the experience, I think. You get to live not just what I see and feel, but how I choose to interpret my surroundings and the reactions of my own mind as well. Even after my retcom was destroyed, when I was roaming the earth with my dark army, I never fully kicked the habit. And I suspect that this narrative, more than anything else, is what has made me so popular. But the transfer process, I refuse to describe. It would not be right.
That first group completes their journey into the digital realm. I watch the next one as well. The sun climbs the sky and still, I keep my vigil. My friends take it in turns to stand beside me. Night comes on, but I'm fully committed now. For three days straight, I watch as our species takes this unprecedented evolutionary leap. I don't drink or eat. My body is strong enough to fulfill its last purpose without further fuel.
On the first day, I bid farewell to Belinda, Bruin, Peppin, Farakul and Nem, aka the White Shade. The Amateurs take their final walk as well, as do a group of Hawks who avoided retribution following the Ninetown revolution. I even see a handful of villagers from Stonewall, the mountain commune where we stayed after our escape from Worldpool.
On the second day, a contingent of Threshers reaches the zone. I say my goodbyes to Den, Ryo, Tesla, Minus and others. Jinx and his father pass through as well. The Kogis are next. They arrive at the platform in outrigger canoes just like the ones I remember from the archipelago. A few green skinned Gravs make the transfer as well, although none will look me in the face.
But the third day is all about Opacity and the Hive. Shion and his Realist party make an appearance. My old friend Five and his partner Ella do too. I see Topsiders and Underworlders and everyone in between. From the Hive we have Nina, Elias and the New Jamaicans, and everyone who helped us liberate the island from Raka’s rule. Even Ven has led his people here from the Iron Lung.
The fourth day dawns. And suddenly, there are no more people on the Stormline bridge, or on the stairs leading down to sea level. The pontoon catwalk too, is empty. Only the platform deck is still populated - mostly by those dearest to me. My days without sustenance have left me feeling lighter than sunlight. The world seems brighter, thinner, and more transitory than ever before. Having convinced her mother that this was something she needed to see, Sophie has spent the last few hours at my side. She seemed to understand the gravity of my vigil, and did not say a word throughout. Nor does she now.
One by one, my friends emerge from the airship. We congregate near the water's edge, facing away from the Mindrack and the field of chairs surrounding it. My mind is lost. Rationally, I know that nobody has died here. They have just shifted to another state of consciousness. But watching all of those bodies being incinerated... nobody could experience that and come out the other side unchanged.
And now, at last, it is our turn. When we're ready, the Architect leads us to chairs in the front row. Then she straps us in facing the white sphere. My limbs are shaking. Sophie is crying quietly beside me, but her expression is one of iron determination. It feels strange to be alone with my thoughts again, so quickly after regaining my feed. All of my viewers have either been digitized, or have pronounced me mad and found other entertainments to fill their last days. I feel sadness for this latter group, but there is nothing more I could have done.
Delez is assisting with the preparations, along with dozens of other Null. So far, none of them have made the transfer. The Architect reaches my place in line, and starts to fix electrodes to my skull.
“It is remarkable that this is possible at all, you know.” She says as she works. “For all their intelligence, my ancestors never discovered how to transfer human minds between bodies. The Designer has secured a place in history for that breakthrough.”
“At least modern tech has contributed something then. Speaking of the process though, will you be okay to run it on yourselves once we're gone?”
Her hands go still. And when she speaks again, the words are pitched for my ears only.
“Anex, you of all people should know that the Null are an abomination. I have accomplished much with my life. Saved humanity, you might even say. And yet I can derive no pride, joy or sense of accomplishment from that fact. I am simply tired. And now that I am no longer required, I can finally lay down my burden.”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying that we are not coming with you.”
“No. You deserve to see the new world that we create.”
“But to say that I deserve something implies that I would take pleasure from receiving it. Which I wouldn't. No, I would much prefer to stay.”
I look around the deck. All of these surgically altered souls, toiling to save us while waiting to die themselves... It is a tragedy. But I suppose I need to honor their wishes. All except for one.
“Delez can't stay behind. Peace will never go without him, and I'm not going without her.”
“He can simply lie to her, and say that he will be right behind you.”
“No! This is non-negotiable. Either he comes, or I stay.”
She studies me with her graveyard eyes.
“Very well. But this is not what he wants.”
“Then he will just have to pretend.”
She nods, and gestures for Delez to choose a seat. He obeys dutifully and without hesitation. When he's been strapped in by another Null worker, the Architect takes a step back.
“There are a few last things to tell you.” She says, speaking to everyone now. “Only the crew and a few of my civilian operatives have access to this information, but I think you can handle it. The ship some of you helped build can only grow a thousand bodies at a time. So even after you reach your destination, it could be decades before you receive one. Or centuries, if your transfer batch is randomly placed at the end of the deployment list. When you do wake up, it will feel as though no time has passed. But your memories of earth will quickly start to fade - particularly if you've spent a long time in digital stasis. For this reason, files documenting your lives will be sent with you. But with the exception of
Anex, who will have his feed, these will be nothing more than words on a screen. So when you awaken, I would urge you to latch onto what you can, before it fades forever.”
So here it is: the final betrayal. Will I even remember Tikal in the new world? Or Sophie? I should be furious, terrified, despairing. But somehow, I am none of these things. The Architect has been working within technological constraints from the very beginning. This is simply another of the many compromises she was forced to make along the way. And honestly, this final push has never been about saving ourselves. It is about continuing as a species, any way we can. So I decide to speak up.
“None of us is happy about this. But it’s the hand we’ve been dealt, so I intend to play it to the best of my abilities. Does anyone feel different?”
A bird cries in the heights, but otherwise there is no sound.
“I love you all.” I continue. “Even Arella, god help me. And if I don’t remember you when we wake up, then I will just learn to love you again.”
“Daddy?” Sophie says in a tiny voice.
“Yes, honey?”
“I can learn to love you again. I promise.”
“Thanks Soph. So, shall we do this?”
Everyone agrees that we shall. And as the Architect prepares to flip the switch on my life, one thought blots out all the rest.
Holy shit, I'm going to space.
THE END
NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR
And that, my friends, is that. But I’m excited you’re here, because now I get to share two MASSIVE REVEALS (and one annoying teaser) with you. Just keep turning these pages...
REVEAL #1
Live Soldier is about to get a full length prequel called 9th Pyramid. The story takes place a hundred years before the trilogy, and delves into key mysteries about - well, the title should give you some clues. If you sign up to my mailing list here, I will send you the first 5 chapters with immediate effect. And now for...