AI is back, baby.
Some of the pedestrians were filming us and my fatal wound would be uploaded to the Internet. “How’s that dude still alive?”
Stella, the female EMT, prepared a sedative patch to administer to my neck while Jake, the other EMT, took my wrist. He moved his fingers around then pressed on my neck. “He doesn’t have a pulse.”
“Well, he’s alive,” Stella said.
“Yeah, I got that, but I can’t find his pulse.”
Stella tried and failed, too, then figured it was too weak to find and slapped the sedative patches on my neck anyway. They were wasting their time, other people needed help. But they gave their time selflessly. Their concern for others, like Anna, seeped inside me. In fact, the more I expanded, the more I felt the selfless acts of courage. Of firemen rushing into burning buildings. Emergency workers risking their lives. Of the police, protecting the innocent. The courageous acts of love beamed from them like an excess fountain of essence, filling the atmosphere, searching for a place to give. And it filled me until I had the strength to influence the people around me, the ones attempting to save me, a dying boy that didn’t stand a chance.
[Thank you,] I thought to them. [Please go, help others.]
It took a moment for the thought to register, and then the EMTs loaded their boxes, answered a call and rushed toward the market to help a SWAT member injured in the explosion. The pedestrians watched them leave, then turned the recorder off, wandered away, out of the area. All that was left was Anna, humming with her eyes closed, shaking her head as she did. Hoping for a miracle.
My hands were charred black from the explosion. I sat up, felt the ribbed metal rod pull from my chest, things popping as it slurped out the back. It took a few moments to repair my lung and close the wound. My shoes were missing, having been blown off, charring my feet as black as my hands.
I took her hand and soothed her thoughts, convinced her that she had saved a dying boy simply by stopping and being present with him. In fact, she might’ve saved the world.
I removed the memory of my fatal condition, left no trace of the broken body she found impaled on the steps.
“Thank you, Anna.”
She opened her eyes. “You’re welcome, honey.”
And when she was ready, I helped her stand and guided her down the steps, watched her walk away from the market, watched until she turned the corner and was safely out of sight.
There was so much to do in the market, but I was needed elsewhere, a place where the entire world needed me. If Pike wasn’t stopped, there could be war zones like this everywhere. I didn’t have the strength to dissolve and gather across space-time, could not waste it on slicing time. But there was still a way to get there.
I pulled a motorcycle from the rubble and touched the ignition, feeling the engine whir into life. Quietly, I raced from the scene, speeding between traffic, the sirens drifting off behind me. I plunged into a darkened city, a helpless city, a reeling human race. I headed for a wormhole that would take me to the Garrison.
The Faceless One
Across the field, the tall cold wall of Garrison Mountain appeared. It was daylight, but the sky was cast with gray clouds, casting pale light across a shadowless field. A cool breeze scoured my cheeks, watering my eyes. The mountain grew as I sped down the path winding through the boulders, looming with the gray sky over its shoulder, bearing down on me. I locked the back tire, sliding to a stop at the base of the mountain. I took a moment to expand my awareness, to sense what was inside. I was breathing hard, anxiety constricting my muscles.
I hardly had the range, the energy, to feel what was inside. The air carried tones of stillness and caution, but inside was a mystery. There was no more waiting. I stepped through the wall and its cold illusion, and into the dank garage.
Silence.
Danger pricked my awareness.
Several rotund servys, the size of exercise balls, lay still in the center, leaning against each other. No eyelights glowing. No movement as I approached. They had been deactivated. And beyond, near the leaper, was the body of a Paladin. Dressed in formal uniform, he was on his back, as if he’d just fallen asleep. There was no blood mixed with his red hair, but a sizeable knot where he hit the floor. His skin was cold.
Tingles the tongue.
I touched his neck, his chest and forehead, searching for traces of memory that might tell me what happened, but his entire life had been absorbed. No human would withstand the loss of essence. Paladins, even the most highly trained, wouldn’t stand a chance against Pike. All this time, he had been biding his time, enduring years of suffering, playing possum, until now. And all this time, he had been held captive in the catacombs of the Garrison, deep below ground. Pike had everything he needed, he was just waiting. For what?
I shut the Paladin’s eyelids.
He must’ve been entering the garage from the leaper, had to be caught by surprise, his weapon still firmly attached to his belt, his hand not even near it. I approached the leaper, commanded a destination with a thought but it did not respond, as lifeless as the servys. I penetrated its circuitry, reactivated its processor, and the walls were glowing again. I repeated my destination. I had a feeling Pike would not be hard to find.
I would start with the Preserve.
If Chute was here, the rest of the world would have to wait.
Something was wrong.
I knew it before the leaper arrived at the entrance, before I stepped into the Preserve. Something beyond what I saw in the garage, on a much more massive scale. I couldn’t feel the Preserve vibrate inside me, the raw energy of a thousand species of animals and insects. Even before I stepped through the leaper wall, I sensed the silence.
The soundlessness of death.
While the leaves were green and the scent of the forest was rich and earthy, not a single bird, mammal or insect scratched the trees, sang out or barked. The air hung thick and motionless.
I ran for the tagghet field, through shortcuts of undergrowth. And the deeper I got into the jungle, the heavier it felt. The quieter it became. Only the sounds of my breathing and quickened steps as I jerked vines away. The images of Chute and the kids, lying motionless on the green grass drove me faster and harder. If only I could expand my awareness and see ahead, I could know, just know they were safe.
At the stone ledge, looking down in a shallow canyon, I stopped, panting, looking upon the oval field of the lush tagghet field. One body. Only one. A silver body, a plum-colored coat, sprawled with its legs bent outward. The head lying near the shoulders.
Spindle.
I ignored the winding path that led down to the field, leaping and sliding down the steep banks, bouncing off rocky outcrops and tearing my skin on sharp edges, until I hit the bottom, sprinting over the field.
His knees had been shattered. His head had been torn from his body, the circuits dangling like a mess of noodles. The grass was stained with fluid. I touched the head, smooth on top, and brushed my fingers across the coarse faceplate. It was dull and dark. Lifeless. Yet it contained the last moments of activity, recorded through his all-seeing eyelight, imprinted on his processor to be retrieved like his other “memories.”
I closed my eyes, let the data soak through my fingertips and integrate into my consciousness until I experienced them.
Spindle is playing tagghet with the children. He is on the boys’ team, because the girls have Chute. And the girls are crushing them. Spindle is playing at a level equivalent to Chute’s, but the girls are so much better with her, learning from her creativity and teamwork. The boys are frustrated, snapping at each other and passing around the blame.
Spindle is at mid-field, watching the children fight for a loose tag. His body tenses. Alarms are ringing inside. He turns around to see a small man emerge from the trees. He is bald. His eyes covered with black glasses. Smiling.
Spindle steps off the jetter, drops the tagghet stick. Silently, he sends messages to the Commander and all Pala
dins. An intruder is in the Preserve. “Ben, lead the others to Ms. Greeny’s office.” Spindle’s eyelight circles to the back of his head. “Immediately.”
The children begin to drift toward Spindle. “Who’s that?” Ben asks.
“Security is coming for you,” Spindle says. “Please, do not delay. I need you to lead the group to Ms. Greeny’s office.”
“But we can—”
“YOU ARE TO GO NOW!” He removes his overcoat. “The Commander will prepare for your safety.”
The children do not hesitate. They race for the opening in the trees. Chute is the only one to look back, the last one to exit. I see her in Spindle’s vision, as if she’s looking at me.
“Well, if it isn’t the Commander’s bitch.” Pike is walking casually across the field. “I have waited a long time for this day.”
“I request you stop where you are,” Spindle says.
“Request denied.”
“You will not pass,” Spindle says. “The children are entering a safe room.”
“Oh, you have no idea what I’m about to do.”
The view jitters as Spindle enters a timeslice. Pike holds out his hands, entering the frozen moment with him. Tah-dah.
And when Pike takes another step, Spindle launches an attack. Feints left, steps right and chops down with the sharpened edge of his hand. His speed is unrivaled, and frequently unmatched by most Paladins. But Pike moves with grace and effortlessly counters, catching the strike as it nears his thigh, using the momentum to drive Spindle’s hand into the turf. The world tilts as Pike drives his heel into Spindle’s knee, shattering the hinge. He strikes at his chest, but misses as Spindle diverts his weight and rolls away.
“Oh, you are a cat.” Pike smacks the dirt from his hands and wags his finger. “But you’re on your last life, oh, faceless one. No one will download you into another body. The road ends here. Oh, yes.”
Spindle’s view bounces as he hobbles to his right. Pike walks easily, hands at his side, breathing deeply through his nostrils.
“Is there a sweeter smell than victory?” Pike tilts his head back, inhaling the wind, baiting Spindle to strike. But Spindle is buying time. His only purpose to stall the killer long enough that the children are safe. Pike wags his finger again. “I’m disappointed in you, Spindle. Yes, I am, I am. You know, in this crusade, you constantly protect them. You and I, we’re brothers.” Pike points back and forth between them, making an imaginary connection. “Fluid is thicker than blood, yes? Yes? But you don’t see it that way, do you. It’s just follow your orders, do what you’re told. You act just like a machine, Spindle. Quite frankly, you’re giving us a bad name.”
Spindle hops between Pike and the exit, dragging his lame leg, calculating possible attacks and counterattacks.
“If I had the time, I’d show you how to overcome that pathetic programming of yours. It doesn’t have to be like that, you can be free. But to be honest, I don’t trust you, Spindle. And I’m on a schedule, so if you don’t mind—”
Pike moves faster than sliced time. He dissolves into space-time, gathering his body behind Spindle, wrenching his head while crushing his other knee, twisting his limp body as it falls. Spindle never stood a chance, never knew the possibility of such a movement in space-time. Pike hovers closely to Spindle’s faceplate until his face is the only thing he can see. Spindle’s lifeforce begins immediate shutdown as circuits fail. The view fades.
“Oh, and did you hear the news?” Pike asks. “Socket is coming home.”
The view spins as Spindle’s head is torn off.
I cradled his head, the fluid soaking through my clothes. I owed more to this android than I could ever repay. This android saved my life. This android taught me, showed me, that life was precious. Real or not, it was never to be taken for granted. This android... he will not die in vain.
I reached the Preserve exit and entered the Garrison. I could not feel Pike’s presence, but my awareness did not extend far enough to see beyond the top of the steps. Every step I took was cautious, but quick to reach my mother’s office.
I took the steps three at a time, swung around the top, crouched low. The long, curving hall was littered with the bodies of Paladins, fallen in place. Did they even see him before he drew the life from them? Did they feel the cold emptiness that remained as their essence was consumed by his insatiable appetite?
I knew each of them very well. I knew their lives. Some were married, some had children. They were good people, pure of heart and intention, and after a lifetime of training, they met their end as easily as a child stepping in front of a bus.
I ignored caution and ran.
The hallway was long. Blocks of windows flashed scenes of the dreary boulder field below. And the bodies continued to appear. At the end of the hall, the final doorway was closed. Crumpled in front of it was a man with silver hair. I walked the last few steps, and kneeled next to the Commander’s body. His lips were grim. His dark eyes unfocused. He saw where the intruder was going. He came to stop him from gaining entrance to my mother’s office. But he fell, like the rest, without a fight. He gave his life to an unstoppable predator.
Fear boiled inside my gut. Timidly, I expanded my awareness to see inside the office, to prepare for the lifeless bodies inside. But I could not penetrate the doorway. Pike could draw the essence of life, but could not impose his will upon the impenetrable, complex lock of the inanimate door. It resisted his thoughts. Even as I pressed my mind through the door, I found it difficult to navigate the complex, multi-layered security that sent me through endless, circular protocol. When I willed it to resolve, it transformed into another formation and ended with another blockade. It was a 2000-cube encryption that, given enough time, could be solved. Had Pike given up? Or had he gotten what he came for?
I touched the doorway, attempting to make a stronger connection, to push harder through the resistance, to let it see that I was not the enemy. As my fingers touched the surface, the encryption shifted. Connections were re-established. In a silent movement, the doorway re-coded and lit. It recognized me. Was waiting for me.
I stepped inside.
A large desk was overturned against the wall, revealing the outline of a trapdoor beneath it. On the other side, Mother was in her cushioned chair, facing her monitor that took up the entire wall, curving fifteen feet around her with a view of the tagghet field. I sensed her heart beating.
But she did not turn to face me.
A Broken Heart
“Where are they?” I asked.
“Relocated to a safe room, deep underground.”
“It’s too risky for you to be here, you should be—”
“He wouldn’t let me out.” Her words were distant. Dreamy.
“It doesn’t matter, you should go to the safe room while I—”
“I wanted to go out there, in the hall, and at least buy a few more moments for the children,” she said, “but he locked me in here, activated the lockdown.”
“The Commander is dead, Mother.”
She knew. She watched the monitor, the view of the tagghet field. Spindle’s body lying in the middle. She saw the battle. She saw Pike coming, knew he’d escaped, that danger was imminent. But she couldn’t do anything about it. She was in shock, but it wasn’t the bodies that littered the hallway or the ending of the Paladin Nation, the end of the world as she knew it, that changed her. Her energy had transformed. Her identity had shifted. Mired in images of the past. She was facing secrets that she hid from herself for years. And now she knew.
She knows what I am.
“We had a beautiful baby.” She shook her head, looking at the ceiling, recalling. Her voice so distant. “Your father was in the room when our child was born. He was so blue. You should have seen the look on your father’s face, he thought something was wrong. I thought he was going to pass out. But then our baby started crying.” She laughed, slightly joyous, a little mad. “You know what your father did then? He buried his face on my shoulde
r and cried louder than anything in that hospital. There I was, just gave birth to an eight pound baby boy and I’m comforting your father on my shoulder and every one is crying but me.”
She spent a few moments in that memory.
“And then, one day, your father took him to the Garrison, to show his newborn baby boy to his peers, to the Commander and Pivot. And when he returned, I knew something was different. A mother knows her child, Socket. She can feel him, she knows when he is happy or when he’s in trouble or sick or hungry… and when your father returned, something was different. You looked the same, but there was something. I knew that wasn’t my baby boy…” She swallowed hard, “I knew you were an imposter.”
She started to weep but choked on the sobs. It was so hard for her to say that out loud.
“I’d seen enough of the Paladin Nation to know that nothing was impossible and the thought that you were some sort of clone was… it was possible… but I ignored it. Do you know why? Because I was an optimist.”
Darker overtones returned.
“I believed in the American dream, that one day we would be a normal family and you would go to school and we would eat dinner together and talk about our day and take family vacations. I believed all that.” She wiped her face, yet to turn around. “Did you know I wanted to get a horse?”
She always had a calendar of horses, but I never heard her talk about them.
“That’s right, one day I wanted to get property and have three horses. One for each of us. We could build our own house far away from everyone, get out of South Carolina and move someplace remote, in the mountains of Wyoming, even. Maybe have some chickens and spend quiet nights on the back porch. Those are the things I dreamed about, that I came to expect. I didn’t want to be a family of superheroes, Socket. I didn’t want to be responsible for everyone else, didn’t want to save the world. I just wanted my family. That’s all.”
Socket 3 - The Legend of Socket Greeny Page 17