by Travis Borne
“Yes. And then it was him and her,” Jim continued. “Then you and Jodi, and Valerie and Jerry. He needed Jerry, my brother. He’d chosen him because he was massive—trustworthy. He always was, Jerry always stood up for anyone in need. My brother was the best man I’ve ever known.”
“He was,” Jon replied, “and that’s exactly why I’m here. We went through a terrible struggle together, in that damn cave. We tried other places but the humans were just as bad as the bots: raping women and children, stealing, killing animals, people, anything. They’d do anything to survive—no holds barred. We held Amy’s eyes from a lot of it: the end of the world. I couldn’t believe it: what people would do to other people. I watched with my own eyes as the strongest of the survivors cut women, even children, in half—then killed, cooked, and ate them all, every piece. What they—” Jon’s head fell. He hard blinked again and shook it off. “—I was glad many of them got it, what the bastards had coming. I laughed inside many times, with some of the same hate I believe, perhaps, Herald possessed. Yes, I watched as they got torched later on. I…” Jon shook his head slowly. “…but then we had to move, quickly—and we found that cave. It was quiet, and lonely—oh God, was it ever—but inside, well, we managed. Amy kept our spirits up, and Jerry, without him we wouldn't have made it more than a few months. I—” Jon’s eyes became glass. He gulped. “Jim, I owe Jerry my life. We owe him Amy’s life, we owe him everything. And I’m here with you, and we are going to get him back—or die trying.”
Jim held up a hand. Jon grabbed it with kindled emotions, and they hugged.
“We have a lot of talking to do,” Jim said, pulling away. “Jon, you’re like a brother to me, you know. I have Amy’s memories of that cave and through her eyes, I felt much of what happened as if I actually lived it with you, and I tell you this—we are going to get him back. We’re going to do it for sure and we’re not going to die trying. It’s do, do and live, and take this fucking planet back.”
“You’re a good man, Jim. What do you say we head on over to the facility and see what’s going on? I’m as ready as ever, and maybe Marlo has his map ready.” Jon put the empty mug on the counter.
“You got it, let’s go. But how about we search out some breakfast first.”
“That actually sounds like a great idea, because I think your coffee is making me hungry.”
Jim smirked upon seeing Jon hard blink. “It’s a special blend, Jon, concocted by a very special friend. Morning oil, and that’s my favorite, now damaged mug.”
Jon made a fucked-up face, seeing the mug: plain black, probably the blackest black he’d ever seen, almost as black as the coffee itself.
And the both of them headed out.
A second later Jim came back. He ran into his kitchen and opened one of the cabinets that still had a door, one right above the stove. He grabbed something and forced it into his pocket, then ran to catch up with Jon, slamming his apartment door.
19. The Sphere
The facility’s outer bay door was open and unsecured like never before, and security was lax, yet things were running smoothly just like any ordinary day. The facility had been cleaned too, almost like nothing had happened.
Whoosh-Chick. The broadcast-room’s repaired door opened and in came Jim accompanied by Jon; the time was 8:55 a.m. Ted was at the wall-sized screens, left of the HAT. As usual, Ron and Devon manned their stations; on the far right end were the twins—a quotidian morning. Alex and Trixie, and so fucking oddly, Jim thought, glancing over at Big Bertha, who’d teamed up with Rob Price, as well two others paired up on the far end, Myron and Terri, were the only six lenders working in the sunken central area surrounding the jousting lance of a tower: the broadcast needle; like a breathing tree its status meter pulsed with the most pleasant emerald green. Bertha’s feet pointed toward it; Rob’s too. She had Abell’s reinforced bed. Next to her Mr. Rob Price looked like a stretched-out wire doll wearing loose-fitting flannel and black faded slacks that didn’t quite reach the bony nodules of his ankles.
“You know, it really is similar to the lending room we had on the ship,” Jon said, absorbing a look around—not unlike Jim, save for the perplexed wry face.
“I thought Herald said they no longer had to sleep in order to lend?” Jim replied. He unrubbered his neck and continued toward Ted. “Amy, the real Amy, could lend while awake, right? Good morning, Ted.”
“Back at you, Jim,” Ted replied as they arrived, spunkier than his usual human-calculator self. “Hi, Jon. Sleep well?” Ted asked.
“Surprisingly, yes, even with all that gonging and grinding going on.”
“A minute, please,” Ted replied, “I have to assist in these logouts.” Jon and Jim nodded then accompanied him, a few steps over to the HAT; it was divided into three slices. Gazing in revealed pleasant dream worlds, a welcome contrast—as if yesterday was poisonous, rotten apples, today was juicy-sweet, Sunshine State oranges. No black bag in sight, lenders were relaxing, enjoying their day: Florida. Alex and Trixie were parasailing over blue seas, about a mile from the beach, being pulled along by a cherry-red speedboat punched out by exuberant DCs. Rob was somewhere else—he’d just went down the Wedgie Whistle, a 175-foot-tall waterslide. His thin frame must’ve sent him into a spin because he was awkwardly discombobulated, lying in the open trough as if lodged into it and receiving water torture. The water-park’s employees were trying to get the wiry man unstuck while he kept reaching for his ass; his shorts looked like high-cut 80s shorts and were wedged deep like floss in crooked teeth. And his galvanizing countenance became a head with jumper-cables on neck bolts, gaping at the big black bomb, now on the way. Bertha! DCs gawked in droves as she sent dueling whitewater into the stratosphere.
Ted moved a few sliders and Myron and Terri awoke. Their corresponding third slice, which happened to be the beach island paradise, with the same slatted white chairs Jim and Amy had used, faded to black.
“Not many can lend with the potency she has,” Jon replied, returning to Jim’s question. “Amy is very special. And yes, they had to devise a way for her to lend 100% of the time in order to pass slivers of her consciousness behind space-time via quantum transfer methods, in order to maintain the printed Amys. She lent continuously, for decades, hence the accelerated aging.
“The thing is, though, Herald, and his plan, entertained the idea of keeping many humans, well, human—unchanged, unmodified—while only about half were set to escalate to a higher level of consciousness, Q’s plan all along. You know, if Q had the final say he would’ve just scooped up every human and ran with it. No good or bad, no filter, no trial and tribulation.
“But eventually Herald and his followers decided to go as well, take that next step, a whole new realm of existence. It was somewhat odd, though. As if, when such the time came, Herald suddenly released Q’s restraints and let the crazy little guy run with it. And now, also, because Amy’s purpose here is complete she will accompany her mother and father. Infinite possibilities Q says. He may seem quirky but his reasoning is quite powerful. Well, you’ve met him. I guess he finally convinced Herald to take the leap.”
“Seems,” Jim said, tightening his brow, “the fucker is an eccentric spaz.” But his forehead quickly loosened up as recognition of vast possibilities filtered in. He remembered Q blasting him with the word energy—nearly slapping him at the same time, in the Fantasy Land map. And following the deluge of thoughts came the memory of Felix, nonchalantly smoking his cigarette, then slipping from the portal like a bull rider who couldn’t be tripped up, back into the supposed bunker, the outskirts of the desert; Old Town—is he still in there?
“So, gentlemen,” Ted said, finalizing the logouts, “we won’t need any more lenders today. Four should be more than enough to maintain. What’s on the agenda?”
“Jon was explaining the lending process aboard Herald’s ship, and of Herald’s plans.”
“Ah yes, it all sounds intriguing. I’ve been talking with Marlo quite a bit since you u
nlocked him, very, very interesting, all of it. And I’ve barely slept—but I feel wonderful. I have data spilling in at a rate faster than even I can process.”
“Well, Ted,” Jon continued, “Herald’s plan had included the need to keep a good number of humans, natural. They would’ve lived unmodified, even die, eventually—while others would be transformed, ascend to a radically different manner of existence. But now they’ve all come to an agreement. It has been decided the transition is a natural next step in evolution, to energy, without the need for any type of physical body. All will be making the leap, soon, if not already.”
“I don’t know where to begin with this. It’s—mind-blowing,” Ted replied.
“Sure is,” Jim agreed. “So, they still lend up there—on his ship.”
“They sure do,” Jon replied. “There’ll be no form of artificial intelligence allowed in this universe, and while we’ve met other beings who do it in various and different ways, Herald’s method, lending while asleep, seems to be unique, and incredibly efficient. Many alien species have taken notice, too. Consciousness, even with powerful, extreme technology, science that’s seemingly unlimited and omnipotent, cannot be duplicated. You might say Herald has become, well, quite the celebrity out and about the universe.”
“Insane,” Jim stuttered.
“It is,” Jon followed up, nodding in agreement. “And because so many believe in Herald they’ve taken to his ways, remaining natural, for now, and therefore—like any organic being—they need to rest. And when they do—voilà. The feed. And he’s found ways to magnify it thousands of times over.”
Jim said, “We could talk about this all day, but—”
“I’m open ears, we do have time,” Ted inserted, anxiously, “lots of it, now.”
“Ted,” Jim said with demotion of mood. “Have you so quickly forgotten our mission? We must save the others, my brother, Jerry?” Jon nodded. Ron overheard and glanced over from his station.
“You’re right, Jim,” Ted replied. “I’m sorry. I feel my imagination wandering. Since that purple status zapped me…”
“It’s okay, trust me, Ted. I know exactly how you feel.” Jim lowered his bald head and slapped it like a mini drum.
“Ah, yes, Jim,” Ted replied. “You have been at least partially reverted for some time now. The purple status was for you, perhaps, just icing on the cake.”
“So, then what’s the plan?” Jon asked.
Jim looked around; he thought of Lia, Rico—and said, “Marlo?”
“Yes, hello,” Marlo replied. His wizard self appeared on screen behind the HAT.
“Hey, Marlo,” Jim said. “You said it would take a few days until your special map was ready. You had something to show us.”
“Jim, the map will be ready for the four of you tomorrow morning. I am sorry for the delay but transferring my inner thoughts into a world that can accommodate the four of you takes time, even with my powerful processing capabilities. I think you will be quite pleased with it and while inside we can mutually access much data very efficiently and cooperatively.”
“Okay then. Tomorrow morning it is,” Jim said, turning back to Jon and Ted. “Tomorrow we log in and discuss options. In the meantime…” He reached into this pocket and pulled out the purple sphere Herald handed him. Their eyes locked onto it; Marlo’s generated self on the screen also followed the nearly translucent orb. “Maybe it’s time to figure out what this is? Herald handed it to me secretly. He just said it was—technology.”
Captivated-like, Marlo ogled at the piece. It shimmered in Jim’s hand. After a moment all heads turned to face Jon.
Jon responded, “I have no idea—what else did he say?”
“I figured for sure you would know what it’s for, Jon,” Jim said.
“Like I said, Jim, Herald had become very secretive. Much of what I know was told to me on the down low by Q. Ana wouldn’t speak either. Only the three of them know what’s really going on.”
“Marlo?” Jim asked, not bothering with Ted; he knew, just as he didn’t know what it was, Ted surely wouldn’t either.
“I’m sorry, Jim, I do not, but it looks to be a fascinating orb. Can you hold it closer so I can inspect it?” Jim held it up. All eyes followed. And Marlo appeared on screen as if peering closer. He shook his head slowly; the symbol-adorned Persian-blue fabric that embellished the edges of his hood swayed with a breeze and glimmered under the twilight permeating his realm with a fluorescent glow.
“Wait, it does look vaguely familiar,” Jon said. He recalled a memory from over twenty years ago, when he was so naive; when he was shocked, perhaps too suddenly with a terrible flood of slap-to-the-face realities. He held still, looking closer. Jim held the sphere closely before his retrospective eyes. Jon looked deep into it and became trance-like.
“Jon?” Jim said.
He began slowly, “A day or so before the war, yes. When the world was still whole, the moon still round, he invited us to his cabin in the mountains. Best weekend of my life, except for—” He shook his head. “—a huge bunker. Unbelievable with hundreds, if not thousands of bots, nestled deep inside the Colorado mountains. It was in Vallecito, near a grand sparkling reservoir.” Jon’s eyes went up in recollection; he thought of the day they went silent and witnessed the sunrise, his last such as it was. The memories seemed to uplift, yet haunt him. “Amy, she was so young, so amazing, three going on four, Herald had said. Then he took us below. It was all hidden below his main cabin. He introduced us to the world’s very first lenders, then Rafael showed it to us. We talked a lot, all night. But I recall clearly when Rafael removed the plug from the back of his head…”
Jon seemed to freeze up during his recollection. Then Jim pulled a small fragment of the memory from his own mind. “Wait, yes.”
Jon continued quickly, “It’s the sphere that was in Rafael’s head!”
“Exactly.” Jim recalled it from his newly acquired memories. Most of them came in sudden flashes like bulbs exploding from the back, to the front of his skull. Some were very fuzzy but clearing; oddly some were clear yet became fuzzy. Amy’s were the clearest memories by far: her eye peeking open for just a second, sleeping in her mother’s arms—she saw it clearly, and so did Jim, just then. He recalled the sphere!
“I’d assume we can animate a bot with it, then empower that bot with a lent consciousness?” Jon said questionably. A pause entranced the four of them.
“But why?” Ted replied. “The bots outside must all possess this same item if that is the case.”
Marlo added, “Jim, can you place the item on the hologram table? I should be able to scan it. If this is the case I can compare the differences to see if it is in fact the same item, as I am familiar with the components of our bots here.”
Jim looked to Marlo as if pondering: Should we? But then why not? Herald must trust Marlo just the same, for he had, along with Rafael, a part in creating him. Jim nodded and held the sphere outward. The slices of open dream-world maps faded and Marlo himself appeared inside his realm behind them in the HAT. He seemed larger and closer compared to the first time they’d met using the smaller HAT inside the control room.
“Set it just inside the hologram,” Marlo said. Jim lowered the sphere and slowly placed it on the table.
Marlo closed his eyes and raised his staff; the universe floating atop it began to swirl and the section nearest the sphere radiated with a purple haze. A light-gray fog appeared, obscuring the orb from view, as well Marlo's extended free hand. Moments later it reappeared and Marlo said, “You can take it back now.” Marlo meditatively stood erect with his eyes closed while he spoke.
“Marlo?” Jim asked.
“A minute please, sirs,” he replied.
They stood looking at each other—for at least a minute. A light gust of wind swayed Marlo’s robe and stirred a whirl of dust into a spiral around him. In the distance, rocky red canyons dominated, a fiery moon rising on the burgundy horizon, and then, the hologram table went
dark.
The halves of dream-world maps reappeared. Marlo was gone.
“Marlo?” Ted asked.
“Marlo, are you there?” Jim followed up.
But Marlo had vanished and the room was eerily quiet. Faint wheezing could be heard from Rob Price, the occasional pig grunt from Bertha. And Jon looked to Jim, then at Ted; Jim stared blankly into the HAT, shaking his head. Was it the right thing to do? Place the sphere of technology into Marlo’s hands?
20. A Transcending Possiblity
But Marlo did return, and he smiled. His thick white mustache rose up hinting at some teeth. Behind him the fiery moon had risen onto the horizon as if an hour had passed. It looked similar to a full moon—one dipped in diesel fuel, then set ablaze—and made the horizon its tangent. Jim sighed with a breath of relief.
Marlo said, “This, sirs, is amazing. It is comparable to what our bots possess within their heads, but, also capable of a reversal. It is by far more powerful, and although I cannot say for sure just yet, I believe it can accommodate a single consciousness. One can assume the vessel of a bot as if the bot is thyself. While interfaced using a standard lending state, one could, in effect, be a bot here on the outside. Transcend the dream world.”
Again, Jim’s mind wandered; he couldn’t help it. The thought of Q in the Fantasy Land, poking his sternum with two fingers, and Rico getting slapped across the face, and, although he didn’t get slapped his envisagement of the wacky dude gave him one right then and there. He was as if, there again within his mind. His cheek reddened like a belly from twenty-foot flop, and his head was forced to the side; he noticed Felix, chilling out against the rail of the bridge. And Felix grinned seeing the punishment, then took a drag on his fag. And Jim couldn't stop himself from pondering once again: What about him? Is he still there, in Old Town? From there it didn’t take even the slightest nudge for his upgraded mind to assemble an idea: Can Felix, get out?