Canaan

by David Salvi

  Chris went first with Rob II in tow. He was able reach the top as fast as Lavik. When he did, he stretched his arms out from the vent.

  “Throw the exotic matter up,” he said to Riley.

  She said, “What if you drop it?”

  Rob II said, “Don’t drop it.”

  She said, “I probably can get up there with it. Hang on.” Riley tucked the device under her arm and relied on her legs to push her up the wall of computers. Under her feet she could feel the metal and plastic start to bend, which made her climb at a faster pace.

  Behind her the doors to the elevator opened and several brutish Military Force officers stormed the room. Behind them were three men dressed in fine robes and jewelry. They ordered the brutes around.

  “Those are Arch Canaanites with elite tower forces. They must have detected the elevator down here. We must hurry,” Rob II said.

  “Stop right there!” one of the Arch Canaanites said. He was old with long blondish orange hair, wrinkles, and crackling to his voice like he had endured screaming matches with a lifelong foe. He was a rotund and large man, almost as tall as a brute, but without the age and skill. He waddled toward them as the edges of his blueish robes slid against the ground.

  Riley was more than halfway up the wall when she looked back. She quickened her pace and kept climbing without regard for the Arch Canaanite’s command. They fired up at her when she had only two feet to go. Bullets ricocheted off the plastic and metal, denting and sparking in her face. Several projectiles even bounced off the device.

  Chris leaned over and saw Riley’s eyes. She looked up at him and took the device from under her arm. With what little strength she had left, she threw it up at Chris, but lost her grip at the same time. Chris ignored the device and dove for Riley’s hand, but he lost his balance and started falling forward out of the vent system.

  Lavik hurled his body toward Chris and caught his legs before he slipped down. At the same time, Chris snagged Riley’s wrist out of midair. She dangled there as Military Forces fired on with more fury. Some of them screamed at the top of their lungs like bloodlusting savages. Half of Chris’s body was out of the vent shaft until Lavik pulled them both up.

  That was a close one.

  But when they were pulled up, blood streaked from Riley’s legs and back. She was hit. She winced in pain, but insisted she was fine. Chris asked her for reassurance, which she gave, then looked for the device. Damn, it must of dropped. When he looked over at Lavik in disappointment, his frown turned into a smile. Lavik caught the device with his other hand.

  “I got good hands,” said the big man. “One more thing.” Lavik stuck his head of the opening, smiled at the Military Forces, and ripped off the top of the computer systems, ruining a clear path to follow.

  The group heard incoherent shouting, and turned to each other. Their heads darted around the ventilation shafts, then back to themselves.

  Rob II spoke up. “We must go now.”

  ***

  Three rebellious human beings and one artificial intelligence detractor crawled through the Canaanite ventilation shaft, following Rob II’s directions. The airflow was fresh, but bone-chilling. Their hands and knees felt unusually cold as they touched the metal. Lavik, the largest of them all, squeaked through the maze of tunnels with difficulty. He consistently bumped his head and maneuvered his hips as he slithered through. Mostly there were grunts and breathing, but the group made chit chat when they had a question. Rob II did most of the talking.

  “The complex system of ventilation aids all government-run buildings like the military base, engineering center, Canaanite Tower, and the personal residences of the Arch Canaanites,” Rob explained. His voice bounced off the tight circular walls of the vent system.

  “So they gave themselves free air conditioning while the rest of us lads sweat at night stinking like rotten tigrus fish,” Lavik said. The tunnels already made him moody.

  Chris chimed in, “And made us a bunch of tired souls. Not much drive to do anything except get up and work.”

  They were in the tunnels for almost a half an hour. Rob II gave them frequent updates on time and distance. When they reached a vertical shaft with stairs, they were relieved, Lavik mostly.

  Up they went, one by one. Chris first to check, then Riley, then Lavik. When they arrived at the top, there was a grated cover. Chris found the hand-crank latch and twisted it open. It banged against the ground in the chamber they were now entering. All of them got out and looked around. It was the size of the elevator. Only a door, which Rob said was a maintenance door.

  “Where are we?” Chris said.

  “The military base. This is the safest place for an escape given its proximity to the Eden Gardens and Harod Hills,” Rob II said. “The valley is too dangerous. The Marshland is the wrong direction. Since most of the Canaanite forces are deployed, the base is left virtually defenseless.”

  Chris winked at Riley, who smirked back with a weak smile. She had carried the burden of the Canaanite ambush. Chris then urged her on with a look to say “come on, we can do this.”

  The most desperate to escape the confined spaces, Lavik pushed ahead to lead, and opened the door. Craning his neck left and right, he scouted the area.

  Just a hallway. Clear.

  “Down the hall and to the right,” Rob II instructed.

  “Where are you taking us, Rob?” Chris asked as he toted the self-aware computer program around in the monitor.

  “The least crowded exit at the moment. My sensors show the northeast corridor is vacant.”

  They hustled down the hallway, but Riley stopped in front of window that showed another area of the base. She grinned with a sinister stare.

  “Wait,” she said.

  Lavik and Chris skidded to a halt and turned their heads back.

  “We are riding these beautiful ladies out of here.” Riley was giddy.

  June 2065 Entry -- Yukon Territory, Canada

  I write these for future generations. Always make progress possible.

  No. No. No. Not now. This isn’t the right time to do this to me. We leave tomorrow! I am presented with an existential question I never thought I’d have to answer twice.

  Should I save the world or not? This version feels like an impossible choice.

  Our geneticists and physicians approached me with an urgent expression on their faces. There were five of them. We went into my office for a chat. I did not think much of it. In fact, I thought they’d rule out one of our breeders for a genetic disorder they found. It happened only once before.

  Unbeknownst to me, the laboratory had communicated with the outside world. They wouldn’t tell me who, not that it mattered now. They promised our position had not been compromised. What they did, however, was almost as potentially damning.

  Someone had shipped samples of the Bios Plague to our facility! I couldn’t believe it and nearly destroyed my desk in anger. But they quickly tried salve my rage by telling me their “good” news.

  They discovered a cure to the wretched disease.

  Moments after, I thought I was suffering a heart attack, beating as fast as my heart ever had. I asked them to explain how, and they did. Then they showed their test results. Some of them even tested the disease and cure on themselves in quarantine!

  Again. They discovered a cure to the disease that had ripped through our population of billions, leaving corpses and rotting livestock in its wake. And now they presented me with an existential and moral question.

  “We felt like we had to do something.” That’s what they said. At first I couldn’t believe the nerve. But I diverted to the implications.

  What if we took the cure and helped repair the world by first saving the population? People must have developed a different mindset as a global population and the results from our collective irresponsibility, correct? They would have to change their ways. They would have to.

  So, should I save the world or not?

  Everything up to this p
oint tells me I’ve been doing just that. I am transporting our existence from a dying planet to a younger, vibrant, and bountiful one. That is the correct formula, no? Replace what’s old with something new.

  There is a reservation deep in my soul about the remainder of the human race. I worry for them, as a father worries about his children. I’m leaving them in the wilderness, am I not? The cold, bitter, and unrelenting wilderness that is the Earth. I leave no flint or kindle for fire. I have no food or water for them to consume. The air is hardly breathable.

  They are sick and dying, thanks to their own poor decisions and selfishness. Is it not better to let them die and allow natural selection truly run its course? It is without that food, water, and air that will cause them to die. And I am abandoning them. I am taking the strength of my kin and starting anew on something fresh and wild, ready for taming and settling.

  No, I have decided to leave. I ordered the immediate destruction of the cure and all of their research. Humanity must learn their lesson.

  We must go to Canaan.

  The world will suffer the fate it deserves. I am the eleventh-hour hero who leads them to the promised land, not to fight the enemy that is their inner demons and worst selves. They are a spoiled species who have consumed to the point of ingesting their own tail. Let them finish the job.

  Nature is a harsh yet just preserver of life, even when it has to force death. The great circle must take this turn.

  We leave tomorrow. For a bright future, escaping our irresponsible past.

  End of Entry.

  Oscar Marian

  CHAPTER 18

  “YOU SURE you know how to fly these things?” Lavik asked.

  “How hard could it be?” Riley replied.

  “Canaanite Bi-Copters are extremely fast and agile. You will all need to gently maneuver the stick,” Rob II reported.

  “Enough juice to get us to Antiquity?” Riley asked.

  “Yes, and in record time too.”

  Rob II’s increased his volume while sharing specific instructions on starting the aircraft for Chris, Lavik, and Riley. Press this button. Pull this lever. Adjust flaps. Initiate thrust. Liftoff. Easy peasy.

  They each flew their own. And once the hanger opened its sky gate, they had to hurry out of the military base before detection.

  “I’ve never flown a bi-copter before, that’s all, Cap. I’m more of a boat man, myself.”

  “Well, when we get to Antiquity, I’ll put you in charge on the line. For now, shut up and listen to Rob!” Riley shouted.

  “Sorry, Cap.”

  They spoke through the bi-copters’ radio communication systems. There was a slight static in each transmission, but you could hear fine.

  Rob II said they could isolate comms to specific frequencies and chat on those channels as long as other Canaanite radios weren’t tuned in. The A.I. system told them to adjust to an unused frequency, which they did before getting started.

  Chris listened intently to Rob II, not wanting screw anything up. He was never a technical person. Only a dreamer with a singular dream that rested in the cargo hold of his bi-copter. With Rob II in his monitor and the exotic matter stored safely, along with his trusty knapsack, he had all he needed.

  To think his first departure from Canaanite City was highlighted by a bi-copter chase, and now he was escaping on one…life is funny, he thought.

  “Set.” Riley was ready.

  “Set.” Lavik too.

  “Me too,” Chris said.

  Increase the thrust was Rob II’s next command.

  Collectively the three bi-copter electric engines hummed in the hanger. Because of their collective power, the engines sent vibrations that shook all three aircraft and the ground beneath them.

  “Opening the hanger,” Riley said, pressing a button in the cockpit. And the hangar opened at the command of her aircraft’s remote control.

  One massive metal shield retracted several feet above them in a diagonal fashion. The light of Apollo streaked through as crepuscular rays with smoke still billowing around them.

  Riley took lead and exited the hangar first. Lavik left second. But before Chris could engage full thrust, Rob II warned him.

  “Someone is coming. Wait.”

  Two bi-copters dove in from nowhere and fired their guns at Riley’s aircraft. She shouted into the comms. She said she was okay after their initial attack, and steered her bi-copter out of the hanger and away from the military base. Lavik followed as a wingman.

  “I have to go help!” Chris said to Rob.

  “Yes, go now.”

  Full thrust, Chris fired his bi-copter straight up into the air, pushing him into his seat and testing his intestinal fortitude. He closed his eyes and felt the innards of his body fight against gravity, leaving most of his feeling like it was at the bottom of his entire being. At first he felt queasy. Then he recovered to gain his bearings.

  He leaned over the side of the cockpit and saw it all. Smoke clouds lingered in Canaanite City. People, both civilians and soldiers, ran amok like insects scurrying from a predator. Little pops that were grenades from Motus companies lit up the scene, adding more smoke like gray and black swabs of paint on a canvas.

  The two bi-copters chasing Riley and Lavik closed in like the more experienced pilots they were. Despite Riley’s rash aerial maneuvers, the Canaanite pilots were able to match and stay close on their tails. Chris watched from afar and charted his course their way.

  Chris said on their private frequency, “Coming to you.”

  When Riley noticed, she urged him away, “No, Chris! Get out of here! Your cargo is too important.”

  “We’ve got this, Sir Christopher!” Lavik declared valiantly. He laughed into his comms shortly after, cursing the Canaanite pilots.

  Riley commanded, “Get over the Albertrum Mountains and back to the ships. Alert the others!”

  Chris changed course, following orders, and headed toward Lake Albertrum. Since Riley and Lavik had diverted the Canaanite pilots toward Herod Hills, he had a clear path to safety, and at a high altitude. Ground troops wouldn’t be a problem. Given his energy capacity, he’d make it over the mountains and to the coast with little worry. He was home free.

  As he approached the edge of Canaanite City, he saw his old walking path—the one he’d take after work everyday. Not many Canaanites would go out of their way for a view, but Chris did. He knew the vista of the lake and mountains was enough of a pleasure in life for the extra effort. If he hadn’t taken that time, he would not have kept his dream alive. Likely he would have spent the rest of his days at the garden. Maybe become the administrator one day. Eventually dying, enduring Canaan’s mess of problems, including the pesky Motus clanspeople, who were the civilized, sophisticated, and beautiful people he had learned to know and love. And that was enough of a reminder for him. It’s the extra effort that defined him and will define him.

  He banked right toward Herod Hills.

  “Make your way toward the lake. We have a three against two advantage. The only way we are getting out of here is if we get out of here together,” Chris said into the comms.

  “No, Chris. Head back. That’s an order,” Riley said back. Her voice was struggling through breaths. Her aircraft had tried every maneuver she could think of, and still she had taken fire and some hits. Her one engine on the right side had slowed. She was in trouble.

  “I’m ignoring that order, Riley. I’m coming to you.”

  “Dammit, I love you, Sir Chris!” Lavik cheered.

  Chris put his craft in full thrust and dropped his altitude. His heading was Herod Hills. It took him only a few minutes to find their dogfight and engage the action. He saw his Motus compatriots and their two enemies.

  Riley’s bi-copter was laboring, taking turns and dips at short angles.

  Lavik fired back, but he missed. Luckily his maneuvers got him out of trouble and he fought on unscathed.

  “Get in front of me, Riley!” Lavik said.

 
Riley did not reply. You only heard a series of grunts on the other side of the comms. She willed the aircraft to turn greater or lift higher, but it struggled. This continued for longer than she had liked. She felt the world closing in around her. Popping of bullets disoriented her. She thought the fire came from everywhere.

  “Just go, guys. I don’t want anything to happen to you. Get outta here,” Riley said into the comms. Chris heard wet sniffs and choked up breaths.

  Bi-copters would not simply explode on their own. The weaponry is meant for ground fire, not dogfighting. Only thousands of rounds, which the aircraft have, penetrating the engines and cockpit windshield could result in a downed aircraft. Their armor was made durable and strong. But the Canaanite bi-copters had struck both Riley’s cockpit and right engine. There was little she could do except await the inevitable.

  But Chris arrived.

  “I have an idea. You’re going to have to trust me…” Chris’s voice had confidence, but his heart was aflutter. Lavik and Riley received the plan. What the hell, they thought.

  Chris took his bi-copter and baited one of the Canaanite pilots with provocative maneuvers, sprees of gunfire, and by sticking out his tongue like a child. The bait worked because he pursued Chris with gunfire of his own.

  Lavik conducted his own maneuver to adjust course toward Riley’s aircraft, which was practically stalling in midair.

  Moving about the air, the aircraft looped and tangled each other, enough to infuriate both Canaanite pilots.

  “How the hell I’m so good at this, I’ll never know!” Lavik declared while pulling his eyeballs backwards in an aggressive loop. The rush of thrusting his body weight every which way invigorated him. He hooted and hollered like a fighter who enjoyed taking blows as much as giving them.

  “Okay, ready, El-Vee?” Chris asked.

  “You better believe it, Sir Chris!”

  Riley opened her cockpit hatch to watch.

  Chris’s bi-copter aimed his nose right at Riley. Lavik did the same, but on the exact opposite side of her aircraft.